Hetalia Kink meme part 9 -- CLOSED
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hetalia kink meme
part 9
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( Christmas Reveals )
September 4, 1666 ; during the Great Fire of London
The fire had begun a few days ago, and had burned steadily and fearsomely since then. All of Pudding Lane was now destroyed, including Tom’s father’s bakery. They’d been even more alarmed when the Cathedral had begun to burn; at the last word, it was reduced to smoke and ash. Tom’s father had joined the efforts to help evacuate the people; he had told Tom and his mother to take the younger children and get out of the city.
Tom had never really been one to obey, and he was even less likely to abandon those in need. However, before he could run down to the burning residential districts, his mother grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him away.
“Let me go, Ma!” he cried, fighting against her formidable grasp. Tom’s little sister Elizabeth was strapped to their mother’s back, and his younger brother Richard was clinging to her leg as she rushed through the panicked streets. “I have to see-”
“Why?” his mother demanded of him, her voice hoarse. She was out of breath and thick ash was blocking everyone’s breathing. “Why do you have to see people dying? For once in your life, Thomas, do as you’re told and come one.”
“But, Ma-!” His voice was full of outrage and concern, and he finally manages to wrench his arm away. “I can help!”
“You’re only eleven, Thomas! What could you do?” His mother’s voice was sharp with anxiety. “Please, just come on!” Seeing the look in his mother’s deep brown eyes, Tom hung his head and followed her. She sighed in relief and led the way out of the city. They had gone only a few feet when they had to stop and pull kerchiefs up over their noses and mouths to block out the smoke.
They had just reached the outskirts of the city when Tom spotted him. A man, lying aimlessly in the middle of the road, seemingly blind to the sight of the refugees streaming past him with carts and horses loaded with salvaged belongings.
“Ma, look!” But his mother wasn’t paying attention, trying to balance Elizabeth and Richard in her arms. “Ma!” When she didn’t respond again, Tom slipped slowly away and went to the man, his head cocking to one side quizzically.
“What’re you doing? You’re gonna be crushed!”
The man was dressed like a wealthy merchant, in a drab brown suit highlighted by accents of deep emerald green. His corn-colored hair was mussed over his forehead, and his bright green eyes opened and shut spasmodically as he lay there. His cheeks and hands were streaked with soot.
“Excuse me, Mister? Mister!” The man didn’t respond again, only let out a deep, guttural cough from the pit of his stomach. Thomas leaned forward and grabbed him by the collar of his suit, practically dragging him to his feet. He was a small man, only a bit taller than Tom was.
The man coughed again and fell against Tom, almost staggering him. “My heart is on fire,” he moaned.
Thomas hadn’t breathed in much of the ash, but he imagined it would feel very much like his insides were on fire, if he had. Thinking that was what was wrong with the strange man, he smiled softly. “It’s alright-they’re trying to put out the fires, even now! My Da’s helping!”
“It’s burning,” the man continued, as thought he hadn’t even heard Tom, “even the Globe, even the Cathedral…” His voice trailed off.
“Hey, it’ll be alright,” Tom said, trying his best to sound reassuring, as his father had, that morning. “Come on, we’ll get out into the hills, with everyone else.” He tried to keep walking, taking the man with him, but the stranger’s feet were planted.
“Are you bloody mad? I’m not leaving.” His voice was a mixture of arrogance and incredulity. Tom rolled his eyes.
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“Didn’t you hear me?” the man demanded. “My city’s in danger-I’m not going to abandon it!”
“Don’t be stupid!” Tom returned, growing frustrated. Why was it so hard to help people? “You’re not a firefighter, or anything. How d’you expect to help? You’re just gonna get yourself killed!”
Not taking no for an answer, Tom grabbed the man’s elbow and began dragging him towards the city gates, in a gesture comically similar to the way his mother had grabbed him earlier.
“Let-me-go-you-little-brat-!” The man roared between coughs. His lungs really must have been in bad shape. His cheeks grew red and hot and he fought Tom with every step.
Dragging him along, Tom eventually found his mother and siblings. “Ma, can this guy stay with us, for a bit? He’s not in good shape.”
“Thomas! Were have you been?” His mother’s first concern was for his safety, but, glancing the stranger, her eyes soften. “Oh, he doesn’t look very well, does he? Load him onto the cart, Thomas-we’ll see what we can do for ‘im.”
Worn out from resisting Tom, the stranger fell asleep as soon as he was lying down amongst Tom’s family’s clothes and food. Tom pulled the cart along and his mother followed behind with Richard and Elizabeth in her arms.
They stopped once they were outside the city, along with another group of refugees. Safe enough in the foothills, they sat down to make camp. Tom’s mother passed out bread and milk-the last stores from the now ruined bakery.
Tom took a loaf of bread and an apple and went to sit beside the man, who’d woken up. He still just stared back at the city with a dead look in his eyes, though.
“Here you go, Mister,” Thomas said, passing him a slice of bread.
“Arthur,” the man replied absently. “My name is Arthur.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Thomas said, his ears turning red, “but I had to get you away from that.” He waved a hand sadly at the city, high with flames and black with smoke.
“Yes,” Arthur murmured quietly. He slowly at the bread, without even glancing at it. “So many people I love are still in that city.” His voice was hollow.
“My dad’s there, too,” Tom said glumly. “He stayed behind to help put out the fires. I wanted to help, but Ma wouldn’t let me stay.”
Arthur turned to Tom with an unfathomable expression in his green eyes. He coughed roughly, and then patted Tom affectionately on the head. “You did all you could. You did well.”
For some reason, the stranger’s praise caused the pride to well in Tom’s chest. “Thank you, Mister.”
The two of them lapsed into silence after that, a young boy and a young man sitting on the hillside, watching quietly as their city burned.
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-- The Great Fire of London was a major conflagration that swept through the central parts of the English city of London, from Sunday, 2 September to Wednesday, 5 September 1666. The fire gutted the medieval City of Londoninside the old Roman City Wall. It threatened, but did not reach, the aristocratic district of Westminster, Charles II's Palace of Whitehall, and most of the suburban slums. It consumed 13,200 houses, 87 parish churches, St. Paul's Cathedral, and most of the buildings of the City authorities. It is estimated that it destroyed the homes of 70,000 of the City's ca. 80,000 inhabitants. The death toll from the fire is unknown and is traditionally thought to have been small, as only six verified deaths were recorded. This reasoning has recently been challenged on the grounds that the deaths of poor and middle-class people were not recorded anywhere, and that the heat of the fire may have cremated many victims, leaving no recognizable remains.
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Aww Artie...you don't want to leave your people, do you? Good boy, Tom.
I can't wait for more! ;P
*Totally doesn't care her own fill is now overshadowed*
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Adored this anon! Something about England being dragged to safety by a stubborn child is a wonderful image.
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