North American Hurricane (Hetalia)
Author: Ashynarr
Summary: In the same vein as Bunnies For Your Amusement, I now bring you my collection of oneshots and short stories featuring the North American twins, America and Canada! Now including non-LJ drabbles.
Disclaimer: Hetalia's not mine.
Warning: Random Shit, Bros Being Bros, Blue Butterfly!AU, implied onesided AmeCan
So if you haven't read the 'Blue Butterfly' bunny in my Bunnies collection, go do that first. This is basically the ending for it, inspired by a gif I saw on tumblr. It's dumb and cliché and unedited and cute as fuck so yeah.
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Alfred emerged from the dense woods only to wince, his eyes unadjusted to the bright sunlight streaming through. After taking a minute to adjust, he looked out across the field he'd stumbled into only to suck in a breath. Tens of thousands of those strange butterflies fluttered, perched on every available spot they could find or else fluttering around over them.
A few, disturbed by his stumbling about, had risen up in protest before realizing his suitability as a resting spot and promptly settling on him. He held one up, still in awe at their unearthly patterning that reminded him somewhat of the art that decorated old books, elaborate and swirling and all encompassing.
He stepped further into the field, each step setting off a burst of blue that either settled on him or behind him, although a few instead hovered in the air around him as tiny ethereal bodyguards. The one he'd originally followed to this place (and, he was certain, had been his guide all this time), was hovering with others near the center, a rich dark blue in contrast to the smaller, paler attendants around it.
"Alfred? What are you doing here?" Alfred turned, seeing Matthew looking at him with pleading eyes. "It;s not safe here - let's just go home."
"I am going home." He truly realized that now, could somehow see the slight wrongness about everything around him now. Was this because of the butterflies?
"This could be your home, though." Matthew stepped forward, sending more blue flying than Alfred had. "You were happy, you were safe… you had everything you wanted."
"But none of this is real." Alfred sighed, aching at the reminder. "I can't be happy living in a dream forever. I have responsibilities to my real family and friends, my country, my people… it's hard, but I can't make other people hurt because of me."
Matthew lunged forward, clinging tight, eyes wild now. "Just forget again - stay with us - you don't owe them anything -"
"I owe them everything!" Alfred felt the trickling burn enter his veins, his frustration matching with the pity for Matthew - whoever or whatever this was - that was unable to let go. The butterflies that had settled on him took off, fluttering around the two with the same agitation. "They're why I exist, why I keep fighting, why I am who I am. I can't forget them, not again."
"But you'll lose me forever." Matthew pleaded. "He can never love you like I can."
That was the breaking point. "I don't care!" He shoved the frightened not-Matthew off of him, looking him square in the eyes. "You're right; he won't love me the way I want him to. But he's my brother and I'm his, and that's more real than anything you ever gave me!"
He shoved the fake away, watching him stumble and collapse backwards into the field, sending up an explosion of blue butterflies. The body burst apart on contact with the ground, thousands of angry red butterflies rising up like a cloud to engulf him, only to be stopped when the disturbed blue rushed forward to surround them and keep them back.
It was strange watching such normally peaceful creatures fight; he wasn't even sure if it could be called a fight if not for the bodies that twitched and dissolved, losers in the strange dance that'd started because of him. It was depressing really, that they were fighting because of him.
The dark blue butterfly came around to hover in front of him, distracting from the carnage and directing his attention back towards the center of the field. Whether it was the fight or some other reason, the remaining butterflies had all taken off, filling the sky with shimmery blue as they flew towards the quickly darkening sky. If he looked, he could see a dim red light before them, steadily brightening as more and more of them flew into it.
The butterfly flew ahead, once again patiently waiting for him to follow.
Alfred gave one last glance back to the battle that was now winding down, giving a quiet goodbye to what could have been, and walked away, heading towards the wooden door that had formed, its designs perfectly matched to those of the butterflies. He pressed lightly, and it opened silently to inky black.
He hesitated, glancing back to the butterfly that had not proceeded in front of him.
"...thank you."
It rose briefly higher, an acknowledgement, and with a deep breath he stepped through. The door shut behind him, and for a long time he couldn't see anything. He panicked, briefly, wondering if he'd been tricked, before realizing his eyes were closed. Rather anticlimactically, he opened them to see he was standing in a field much like the one he'd left not a minute ago, but for the lack of butterflies.
But he knew this one was different, because the earth under him sang in welcome and familiarity - his land, warm and wide and all encompassing. A deep breath left him energized, abuzz with life and people and sun in the first time in what felt like ages.
He was as much America as he was Alfred, and all it'd taken to remind him of that was being kidnapped and trapped from himself to realize that. He laughed, a grin stretching across his face, and he began to run, endless energy filling him and overflowing.
It only took a few hours to reach his colonial house - it was, after all, built close to where he was born and reborn again, even if no one knew that but him. He pushed open the door, the house quiet but not empty as he walked down the hall, heading for the only place that mattered right now.
It took a minute for Arthur and Matthew, who had been sitting on the couch solemnly, to realize he was there, and another three seconds to fling themselves at him, foregoing all dignity in favor of wrapping around him in heavy relief and joy. He laughed, holding them back and crying with them as they just clung tight to one another.
He was finally home.
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AN: The fey in old mythology are truly fascinating, and I really want to explore them more. I might write all the in between stuff sometime.