Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 1/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:25:00 UTC
Yay, new chapter, finally here! Took longer than I'd like, but I had vacation, and my iguana died recently, which sucked... But enough about me, it's story time!
Warnings: This should go without saying, but from here, there's some serious gore, along with possible trigger-inducing material. Also, a minor warning for England's potty mouth. (He was a pirate, can you blame him?)
Taiwan looked left and right, stumbling over her long, ornate dress on occasion. She had given up trying to carry her weapon long ago, in favor of attempting to keep her dress hitched up and out of the way of her feet.
She had been given a semi-automatic rifle, one that looked quite familiar. She soon recognized it to be a Type 56, one of the many kinds of guns produced by China after WWII. Despite the fact that she was rather familiar with the gun, she wasn’t keen on the idea of using it - or worse, accidentally firing it off in her haste to find a hiding place - so she kept it tucked in her bag.
Lately, Taiwan had turned into a bit of a worrywart. Feelings that had once been a bit trying but harmless overall were now amplified, and every tiny sound she heard sent her spiraling into another fit of panic. A branch snapping, a bird flying, the wind blowing; anything and everything could be a potential enemy.
She tried to rationalize, to tell herself that no one would really try to kill her, but it was hard. She had to believe that there were other nations out there who would protect her, like Japan (always a noble one), or China (she would even accept help from him at this point), or even America (who was always sure to stick his nose into other nations’ business and give out money for charity like it was candy). China was on… relatively good terms with Russia, so perhaps the largest nation would respect the members of China’s family and let her go if they came across each other.
All of her frantic, scrambled thoughts did nothing to still her rapidly-beating heart, because the fact of the matter was that there would be nations out there playing to win, and if there weren’t, all of them would die.
Eventually, Taiwan saw something in the distance that most certainly wasn’t another rock or tree. She squinted and kept running, and soon enough, a small cottage came into view. She let out a breathless laugh, speeding up until her feet carried her up the three wooden steps leading to the cottage’s entrance. She turned the knob, happy to find that the door wasn’t locked, and walked inside, shutting the door behind her.
The cottage was dark, but the light of the moon outside gave off just enough light to illuminate the interior of the building. It was a simple place, with a worn sofa, a polished wooden table surrounded by a few chairs, and an old-fashioned kitchen all in the same room. There were two doors opposite her, which Taiwan assumed lead to a bedroom and a bathroom.
It was then that Taiwan became aware of just how sore her legs were from running non-stop for who knows how many miles. She sighed and stumbled forward, collapsing onto the old sofa. Though it was ratty and had little cushioning, compared to the forest, it was heaven. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder, relieved to get rid of the extra weight.
She took a few deep breaths, her lungs burning. Though every bit of her ached, it felt wonderful to finally be allowed to relax. Under her, the cushions turned to clouds, and the dull ache in her legs began to fade into the background. Against her better judgment, Taiwan’s eyes began to slip closed. She settled into the thin cushions, her breath slowing down to a normal rate.
‘Just a short nap,’ she thought. ‘No one’s here… It won’t hurt…’
Re: Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 2/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:30:43 UTC
A short time later, Taiwan awoke on the floor, the side of her head blooming with pain. She turned over, trying to get her eyes to adjust to the dim light, and barely made out a tall, broad figure standing above her.
“Damn,” the person said, “didn’t think you’d wake up. Stupid fucking thing…”
Taiwan scrambled backwards, her breath beginning to speed up. She was able to make out a few more details about the person. He was blonde, stylish, and glaring down at something flat and circular in his hand. Was that a pot lid..?
“Thought they were supposed to give us weapons,” he went on, easily stepping over the couch. Taiwan scrambled backwards until her back met one of the legs of the table. “But I guess this’ll have to do, eh, lille blomst?”
Taiwan grabbed at the edge of the table, pulling herself up and gaping at the man in front of her. She opened and closed her dry mouth a few times, trying to force out words that got stuck in her throat.
“Denmark!” she said, backing up along the length of the table as the man advanced on her. “Wh..? No!”
“Come on,” Denmark said, baring his frighteningly white canines in a grin. “It’s nothing personal. I just don’t want to die. If you come over here willingly, I’ll snap your neck. Nice and painless. Would you like that?”
Taiwan wasn’t swayed. She pushed off of the table, rushing into the small kitchen area. In her haste, she forgot to hold up her dress, and she stumbled forward, a new pain sprouting in her ankle. On her way down, she grabbed the knob of the nearest door, trying frantically to open it. If there was a back door or a window or something, she could get out and run into the forest, safe and sound. But the doorknob kept slipping out of her sweaty palms, and Denmark was closing in on her fast.
“Go away!” she yelled, grabbing the handle of a drawer above her head and pulling it out.
The contents of the fallen drawer spilled out between the two of them, a mess of all kinds of kitchen utensils. Taiwan grabbed a large, sharp knife, holding it in front of herself with quivering hands.
“Don’t be like that,” Denmark said, his smile momentarily changing into a frown. Reaching out, he said, “Gimme the knife.”
In response, Taiwan let out another yell, slashing the knife out before her. Denmark cursed in his native language, drawing back his now-bleeding hand. He kicked and stomped, sending some of the fallen silverware skittering towards Taiwan.
Taiwan used this opportunity to lock her eyes on her bag. If she could get to that, she’d have a proper weapon. Or she could grab her supplies and run, no violence necessary. With Denmark still swearing up a storm, she stood up, remembering to hitch her dress up as she ran. As soon as she was close enough, she dove forward, grabbing the straps of her bag with the knife still clutched in her hand.
She fumbled when trying to unzip it, becoming increasingly anxious when she heard Denmark’s heavy footsteps quickly approaching. She had just managed to unzip the bag, the rifle sitting there on the top of the pile of supplies, when pain exploded in the formerly uninjured side of her head. Denmark had brought the edge of the lid down on her, and a few drops of blood splashed onto the wooden floor.
Taiwan grabbed for the rifle, a frightened “Stop!” escaping her lips, but before she could get to it, Denmark kicked the bag away. She rolled over, crossing her arms in front of her head just as Denmark delivered another blow with the lid. Taiwan screamed, and almost immediately, her wrist began to swell. Moving the fingers on her left hand was now a chore.
Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 3/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:33:37 UTC
He reached down and grabbed Taiwan by the hair - the long, pretty brown hair that was matted with blood - and Taiwan, with her uninjured hand, reached up and scratched the side of Denmark’s face, her long nails leaving bloody trails in their wake. Denmark let her fall back to the floor, hissing in pain.
Free again, Taiwan stumbled over to her bag and pulled out the rifle. She struggled to pull the handle back with only one arm, muttering quiet pleas in Taiwanese until she finally got it all the way back. The handle slid back forward quickly, and Taiwan raised the rifle, finger on the trigger. Denmark was no longer standing in front of her.
Taiwan’s breathing was shallow, sweat and blood running down her face. She hadn’t heard Denmark move. She scolded herself for not paying more attention to the sounds around her when she was struggling with the weapon, and turned her head. She only saw a flash of black and red clothing before Denmark’s foot connected with her ribs, making a stomach-churning cracking sound and knocking the breath right out of her.
“Is this in bad taste, attacking a girl..?” Denmark wondered aloud as Taiwan coughed and spluttered underneath him. “…Nah, she’s got a gun. It’s self-defense, really.”
Now, rather than her short breaths being a product of her anxiety, they were because of her punctured lung. With every cough, Taiwan’s body shook, sending tremors of pain throughout her body. Heavy drops of blood splashed onto the floor, and the taste of copper was thick on her tongue.
“Please, I don’t want to die…” she said, her voice small and raspy.
She looked up at Denmark, her big brown eyes rimmed with dark circles. Her face was pale and streaked with blood, sweat, and freshly-fallen tears that cut trails through the grime on her cheeks. For just a moment, she looked weak and vulnerable, but in a split second, it changed to something much stronger, much more intense. For a moment, Denmark was stunned. Then, suddenly, Taiwan moved, lifting the rifle with a surprising burst of strength.
“No! I don’t want to die!” she shouted, pulling the trigger.
The kickback knocked the gun backward and threw her good arm out of socket, and she wailed in pain, an echo of Denmark’s pained cry above her. Now on her back, Taiwan struggled to turn her body to get a good look at the man. Denmark was cupping his shoulder, the pot lid discarded at his feet, and Taiwan could just barely see deep red blood seeping out from between his gloved fingers.
Her chest heaved as she tried to suck in air, but with every breath, her broken ribs cut into her lung. Her right arm was completely immobile, bent backwards at an odd angle, and the blood gathering in her throat began to choke her. Every cough sent a few drops of blood flying out of her mouth, only to land on her face seconds later. With a great heave, she rolled over onto her swollen forearm, spitting out all of the blood that had accumulated in her mouth.
She had no power left to scream, so she groaned. It was a tiny, broken sound, and even something as small as that noise made her feel as if her chest was on fire. The sound of Denmark’s loud swearing seemed to reach her brain through a filter, sounding farther away with every passing second.
As the edges of her vision began to blur and her body began to tremble from a chill that seemed to come from deep within her, Taiwan thought, ‘Please… I don’t want to die… Japan… J-Japan, help…’
Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 4/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:35:55 UTC
Her weakened body could no longer support her weight, and Taiwan fell face-first into the puddle of blood beneath her. She sucked in short, gasping breaths, her body going limp. Everything hurt. Her arms, her legs, her torso, her head, inside and out. Starting from the outside and working its way in, darkness consumed Taiwan’s vision.
Everything was pain. Pure, unfiltered pain. She could no longer see anything but darkness, and couldn’t hear anything but her own ragged breaths. Mere seconds ago, the desire to live had propelled her forward, but now, the pain of living was near unbearable.
Soon enough, another sense - taste - was robbed of her, and the coppery flavor of her own blood on her tongue disappeared. After that, blood and mucus clogged her nose, and the scents of the rustic wooden floorboards and her blood overwhelming the sweet pine outside were no more. No sight, no taste, no smell, no hearing, just feeling.
Everyone had described the wonders of touch, and how wonderful and sensual it was to have your eyes shut while absorbing every detail of, say, your lover’s fingers trailing over your body. But Taiwan disagreed with them. Just touch, nothing else, was horrible. Pain no longer overshadowed her senses. Pain was her senses.
It felt like hours that she laid there, her wounds throbbing with every quick beat of her heart. When the frantic muscle began to calm down, it felt like a blessing. Her slowed heart rate meant a few more seconds where the pain had died down before the inevitable flare that accompanied the beat. The hardwood floor began to feel just as soft and airless as the dingy couch cushions she had been lying on before. Then, starting with her feet and ending with her head, the pain began to fade away.
Taiwan, using the last bits of her strength, smiled. Because while living seemed to bring her nothing but pain, dying was nothing.
Re: Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 4/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:37:41 UTC
“A gunshot…”
Estonia winced, trying to pinpoint the area that the noise had come from. He shifted his weight, adjusting the two bags that he was carrying and looking down at his smaller companion.
“Come on, Sealand, we have to go,” he said, trying to remain calm for the micro-nation’s sake.
They had run into each other shortly after Estonia had been released. A few yards ahead, Sealand was struggling with his bag, which was about half his size (and most likely, twice his weight). He’d tried to flee when Estonia first announced his presence, but Estonia, the “family friend” of sorts, was able to convince him to stay.
Estonia couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Sealand hadn’t even been a registered member of the meeting, as always. He’d snuck in, as he usually did, and as a result, he’d gotten wrapped up in this mess with the larger nations. Estonia wasn’t the biggest or the strongest nation around, and truthfully, he’d been shaking in his boots since he woke up, but he wouldn’t chicken out of helping a weaker nation (and the child of a friend, at that).
Sealand gulped and nodded, squeezing the older nation’s hand tightly. He didn’t dare to speak, afraid that someone would hear him (which wasn’t an irrational fear by any means). Estonia led the way, taking the path of least resistance through the forest. Every now and again, a twig would snap under their feet, or a branch that they pushed out of their way would bounce back with particular force, and the pair would freeze for just a moment, still like deer in headlights. When there was no sign of anyone coming after them, they continued on, beads of sweat forming on their brow despite the cool breeze blowing around them.
After a while, the noises of the forest around the pair began to sound a bit less peaceful. Along with their soft footsteps, a soft rustling could be heard up ahead. At first, Estonia dismissed the noise as a stray animal, but it only got louder as they got closer. Sealand must have heard the noise as well, because his vice grip only became tighter, his knuckles turning white.
Abruptly, Estonia came to a stop, but the rustling of the trees up ahead - along with distinct footsteps - continued. He put a finger to his lips and looked down at Sealand, who pressed his own lips into a thin, tight line. The older nation ducked behind a tree, and soon enough, a soft voice could be heard, though the words were unintelligible.
Estonia took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes locked on the foliage before him. As Sealand clung to his leg, he began to make out the low-hanging tree branches moving, and a distinctly human shape cutting his way through the place none-too-gently. The figure stopped and turned around, cursing under their breath and looking as if they were trying to tug their foot out from under a root. Then, with a great yank, they fell backward, accompanied by a loud, rather distinct swear.
“Bloody fucking piss-!”
And just like that, in a rather undignified manner, England tumbled onto the ground before them. Leaves adorned his hair and clothing, along with the occasional twig, and a nice layer of dirt topped it all off. He had just barely managed to avoid landing on the cutlass he was holding, and a scowl ten times nastier than his usual one graced his dirt-caked face.
Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 5/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:41:01 UTC
“J-jerk England!” Sealand squeaked, letting go of Estonia and standing up straight.
Estonia let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as England sat up, brushing a bit of dirt off of his suit (as if it would make a difference). He turned towards the pair, squinting a bit before his eyes opened wide.
“Sealand?!”
He stood up, his face showing a mixture of confusion and anger. Sealand notably moved to stand on his toes, attempting to look as large as possible.
“What the bleedin’ ’ell are you doin’ ’ere?” England asked. His accent, usually posh and a perfect example of the Queen’s English, had turned into a garbled mess of borderline-cockney. “You weren’t even at the meeting!”
“That’s what you think!” Sealand said, still shivering like a wet puppy, but standing tall all the same. “You just didn’t notice that I was there because you’re old and stupid!”
“You- I-!” England started, flushing. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, then continued on. While his accent was no longer as thick, and his scowl had disappeared, the changes had somehow managed to make England look even more intimidating (at least, in Estonia’s humble opinion). “We don’t have time to argue about this. Now, come with me.”
“What?” Sealand asked. “Why should I?”
“Why the hell shouldn’t you?!” England snapped, one generous eyebrow twitching. “I’m your big brother. I’m going to take care of you, and that’s that!”
“No way!” Sealand said. “You’ll probably end up leaving me somewhere by myself, jerk!”
“I would never-!” England said, but this time it was Estonia that cut him off.
“Gentlemen, please,” he said, stepping between the two. “I understand why you’re both a bit upset right now, but I implore you, keep your voices down… If you keep screaming, the, ahem, others will flock to us…”
Once he finished talking, Estonia coughed gently into his fist and averted his eyes. By his tone, it wasn’t hard to guess who he meant by “others.” England’s brow furrowed, and he sighed, grabbing one of the bags from Estonia and slinging it over his own shoulder, in no hurry to meet a certain large, cold nation.
“Throw out your back like that, you will,” he said. “I’ll take that.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to…” Estonia said, but England ignored him.
He looked down at Sealand, ready to prod some more, but the boy was white as a sheet, looking around at the gently-swaying leaves and branches that surrounded them.
“Sealand?” he said, making sure to speak softly this time. “We have to-”
“Shh!” Sealand said, doing a double-take. “I heard something.”
“What?” England asked. “Don’t be silly, it was probably a rabbit or something. Now, we should really-”
“Get down!” Estonia said suddenly, grabbing both boys by the shoulder and forcing them to the ground.
No sooner than their knees had hit the forest floor, a gunshot rang out above them. Sealand screamed, covering his head with his hands, and England struggled to get a good look at their attacker through the brush.
“Who the hell..?!” he asked, wincing as another shot was fired. Next to him, Sealand let out a frightened cry. “Whoever you are, cut it out! We’re not playing!”
The person either didn’t hear England or didn’t care, and a rustling in the trees alerted them that the person was moving closer. England kept low to the ground, unzipping one of the bags and rooting around in it quickly.
“Shit, shit…” he said, picking up a box cutter and turning it over in his hand. After a second, he tossed it back into the bag and zipped it shut, then turned and grabbed Estonia’s.
Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 6/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:44:30 UTC
“Weapons, you bloody moron, weapons!” England said, pulling a gun out of Estonia’s bag and half-smirking in appreciation. He quickly checked to see if it was loaded, then zipped the bag back up, giving the other nation the pistol. “Can’t bloody well fight off a gunsman with a sword and a razor, now can we?”
Another shot rang out above them, even louder this time. England stood, ducking under some underbrush and calling for the others to follow him. Estonia took Sealand’s hand once more, coaxing the whimpering nation to walk in front of him, behind England.
“Mr. England,” Estonia said, “Sir, I don’t think… I mean, shooting something like this…”
“You’ll do it if you have to,” England insisted, his cool tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll do it, or we die. Simple as-” Another gunshot, this one a bit farther away. England frowned. “-that.”
Estonia bit his lip, but didn’t protest any further. The gunshots had stopped, but the rustling behind them continued, as if their attacker had lost sight of them, but had no will to let them go.
‘Who could be doing this?’ Estonia thought, brow furrowing in concentration. ‘Russia? No, this isn’t like him… He never preferred guns. But Switzerland… No, no, he wouldn’t… Would he?’
Estonia’s thoughts were scrambled as another gunshot was fired. Much to his shock, the shot had come from in front of them, and the bullet narrowly missed its target, landing with a sharp crack in the tree just behind Estonia.
“Shit!” England said, swerving sharply off to the side. “The bastard got in front of us.” Estonia was ready to point out that that was obvious enough, but an intense look from England shut him up. He looked Estonia in the eyes, then down at the pistol. “Get ready to use that thing,” he said, pushing Sealand behind a bush before ducking behind it himself.
Estonia shivered and made a weak noise of protest, crouching down beside the pair. To be frank, the idea of using a gun sickened him. While he wasn’t a war-free nation, he always favored the diplomatic approach over the violent one. He would always choose a night of debugging a computer or breaking through a government firewall over a night of violent slaughter, no matter who his opponent was.
In front of them, there was a sharp ridge, covered in tangled foliage that would prove challenging for any normal person to traverse. But, as luck would have it, Estonia was on an island filled with nations. Each was hundreds, if not thousands of years old, and they had all seen their fair share of the world. Even a young nation such as America or Canada would have gotten tangled in the thickest of bushes at some point in their lives, and with time, would have learned the ins and outs of the land. And in a time before processed foods and supermarkets, hunting was an essential skill.
The rustling of leaves moved closer, but while Estonia’s first instinct was to flee, England was standing his ground.
“Don’t move,” England whispered harshly, gripping the handle of his cutlass so tightly that the palm of his hand was sure to bear the handle’s imprint. “No matter what happens, protect Sealand. And for the love of god, do not get yourself killed, you got that?”
Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 7/???)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:46:35 UTC
Estonia nodded, feeling numb, and kept his eyes locked on the ridge. All of a sudden, one dark-skinned leg planted itself firmly onto a patch of ivy. Tiny beads of blood and red scratches painted the muscular (but distinctly feminine) leg, as whoever it was had worn shorts on the day of the meeting. With a bit more time, Estonia could have figured out who it was, but his skills of deduction were rendered useless when the rest of the person emerged from the brush.
Standing tall with her dark hair in a ponytail and a luger in her hand was Kenya. While she was expertly built - and swift enough to get in front of the trio while they were running at top-speed, apparently - Estonia couldn’t help but think that she was a woman, and to shoot at her would be horribly unfair.
“Kenya!” England called, peeking cautiously over the bush. “Stop this! If you don’t, we’ll have to hurt you!”
The corners of Kenya’s mouth twitched, and for a moment, Estonia thought she would have a change of heart. But she raised her gun, and England ducked a second before she pulled the trigger.
“Fire, damn it!” England said, grabbing Sealand’s head and forcing him closer to the ground. “Fire!”
“But-” Estonia said, but England cut him off.
“Now!”
Estonia looked down, fiddling with the weapon. He was no stranger to it, but his hands were terribly shaky, and turning off the safety proved to be a challenge. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, and he didn’t hear what England was shouting, a flood of relief washing over him when he finally clicked the safety off. He placed his finger on the trigger and looked up, just in time to see Kenya pointing her gun at him.
Before he knew it, he was on his back, too confused to see anything for a moment. He’d heard two gunshots, and shut his eyes tightly, expecting to feel a burst of pain at any moment. Nothing. A few seconds passed, and he dared to crack his eyes open. England was sitting over him, his hands on Estonia’s shoulders. However, the target of his gaze wasn’t Estonia, but rather, Kenya.
Estonia strained to see her, his glasses askew. She had dropped her weapon, and her hands were raised to her chest. When he saw blood seeping out of her shirt, Estonia’s stomach sank with the realization that, in the confusion, he had pulled the trigger of his own gun.
For a moment, everything was still. Even Sealand’s whimpering had stopped. Then, Kenya placed one foot forward, onto the very edge of the ledge. The ground crumbled underneath her foot, and she tumbled forward. She fell down the ledge limply, as if she were a ragdoll, without making a sound.
Her body landed less than three feet away from the bush the trio was hiding behind. Estonia, whose limbs had locked up under him, suddenly sprang to life, scrambling backwards.
“I… I didn’t..!” Estonia said, his voice a few octaves too high. “I wasn’t..!”
“It’s all right,” England said, one hand on Sealand’s shoulder, the other wiping sweat off of his brow. The micro nation rose, trembling all over, his hands over his eyes. “You didn’t mean to. She was… It’s all right.”
England’s voice, smooth as it was, did nothing to calm Estonia. His eyes were locked on the gun he held loosely in his hand, and everything else seemed to fade away. His mind was bombarded with thoughts; with little, scolding voices telling him that he should have been more competent, paid more attention, aimed for an arm or a leg or somewhere else non-fatal.
Hetalia Royale (Chapter 3, Part 8/9)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 01:48:32 UTC
Locked in his stupor, Estonia had no idea just how much time had passed. He was unaware of Sealand’s hand on his arm, nor of the shaky voice in his ear, urging him to move.
“He’s out of it,” England said, keeping a tight grip on Sealand’s shoulder. “The gunshots will have attracted attention. We have to go.”
“But… But what about-?” Sealand started, only to be pulled away from the numb, wide-eyed Estonia.
“Leave him,” England said.
“What the heck, jerk?!” Sealand asked, his bushy brows furrowing. Glaring at England, he went on, “You’re just gonna leave him here? All by himself?!”
“I can’t afford to be slowed down by more weight,” England said, lifting his shoulders to indicate the two bags he was carrying. “If I have to carry him around, we’ll never get anywhere. We’re sitting ducks out here, don’t you understand?”
“But he-! We can’t just-!” Sealand said as England began to tug him away.
“No buts!” England, who had raised his voice, took a second to take a deep breath and compose himself. “I don’t want to leave him, but I just can’t drag him along. Please, Sealand, try to understand.”
Sealand blinked back a few tears that had sprung up from a mixture of anger, fright, and uncertainty, and stumbled along beside England without voicing any further protests. As they continued on, farther from the scene, he managed to convince himself that Estonia would be okay. He was smart, after all. Though he didn’t talk to the Baltic nation much when he came to visit them (well, “Mama” Finland, mainly), that much was apparent. He would snap out of it soon enough, and be right behind them.
A few minutes later, the pair heard a single, dull gunshot in the distance behind them.
1. United States 2. Canada 3. Cuba 4. England 5. France 6. Germany 7. Austria 8. Hungary 9. N. Italy 10. S. Italy 11. Spain 12. Switzerland 13. Liechtenstein 14. Poland 15. Sealand 16. Belarus 17. Ukraine 18. Prussia 19. Belguim 20. Bulgaria 21. Iceland 22. Sweden 23. Denmark 24. Norway 25. Finland 26. Greece 27. Turkey 28. Egypt 29. Lithuania 30. Estonia 31. Latvia 32. Russia 33. China 34. S. Korea 35. Japan 36. Taiwan 37. Hong Kong 38. Vietnam 39. Seychelles 40. Kenya 41. Zimbabwe 42. Australia
Re: Hetalia Royale (More Notes, Yay)
anonymous
June 15 2010, 22:21:59 UTC
God, Taiwan's section was so desperate and full of anguish...it made me feel incredibly bad and strangled, myself.
England is SO BADASS! <3 And yes, leaving Estonia like that is something he would totally do. I'm glad you don't shy away from England's mean pragmatic streak. Now he has a mission, protecting Sealand. Will he meet with America or France soon? Gosh, I hope you update sooner, because I can't take this any longer! I need moreeeeee
Warnings: This should go without saying, but from here, there's some serious gore, along with possible trigger-inducing material. Also, a minor warning for England's potty mouth. (He was a pirate, can you blame him?)
Taiwan looked left and right, stumbling over her long, ornate dress on occasion. She had given up trying to carry her weapon long ago, in favor of attempting to keep her dress hitched up and out of the way of her feet.
She had been given a semi-automatic rifle, one that looked quite familiar. She soon recognized it to be a Type 56, one of the many kinds of guns produced by China after WWII. Despite the fact that she was rather familiar with the gun, she wasn’t keen on the idea of using it - or worse, accidentally firing it off in her haste to find a hiding place - so she kept it tucked in her bag.
Lately, Taiwan had turned into a bit of a worrywart. Feelings that had once been a bit trying but harmless overall were now amplified, and every tiny sound she heard sent her spiraling into another fit of panic. A branch snapping, a bird flying, the wind blowing; anything and everything could be a potential enemy.
She tried to rationalize, to tell herself that no one would really try to kill her, but it was hard. She had to believe that there were other nations out there who would protect her, like Japan (always a noble one), or China (she would even accept help from him at this point), or even America (who was always sure to stick his nose into other nations’ business and give out money for charity like it was candy). China was on… relatively good terms with Russia, so perhaps the largest nation would respect the members of China’s family and let her go if they came across each other.
All of her frantic, scrambled thoughts did nothing to still her rapidly-beating heart, because the fact of the matter was that there would be nations out there playing to win, and if there weren’t, all of them would die.
Eventually, Taiwan saw something in the distance that most certainly wasn’t another rock or tree. She squinted and kept running, and soon enough, a small cottage came into view. She let out a breathless laugh, speeding up until her feet carried her up the three wooden steps leading to the cottage’s entrance. She turned the knob, happy to find that the door wasn’t locked, and walked inside, shutting the door behind her.
The cottage was dark, but the light of the moon outside gave off just enough light to illuminate the interior of the building. It was a simple place, with a worn sofa, a polished wooden table surrounded by a few chairs, and an old-fashioned kitchen all in the same room. There were two doors opposite her, which Taiwan assumed lead to a bedroom and a bathroom.
It was then that Taiwan became aware of just how sore her legs were from running non-stop for who knows how many miles. She sighed and stumbled forward, collapsing onto the old sofa. Though it was ratty and had little cushioning, compared to the forest, it was heaven. She let her bag slip off of her shoulder, relieved to get rid of the extra weight.
She took a few deep breaths, her lungs burning. Though every bit of her ached, it felt wonderful to finally be allowed to relax. Under her, the cushions turned to clouds, and the dull ache in her legs began to fade into the background. Against her better judgment, Taiwan’s eyes began to slip closed. She settled into the thin cushions, her breath slowing down to a normal rate.
‘Just a short nap,’ she thought. ‘No one’s here… It won’t hurt…’
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“Damn,” the person said, “didn’t think you’d wake up. Stupid fucking thing…”
Taiwan scrambled backwards, her breath beginning to speed up. She was able to make out a few more details about the person. He was blonde, stylish, and glaring down at something flat and circular in his hand. Was that a pot lid..?
“Thought they were supposed to give us weapons,” he went on, easily stepping over the couch. Taiwan scrambled backwards until her back met one of the legs of the table. “But I guess this’ll have to do, eh, lille blomst?”
Taiwan grabbed at the edge of the table, pulling herself up and gaping at the man in front of her. She opened and closed her dry mouth a few times, trying to force out words that got stuck in her throat.
“Denmark!” she said, backing up along the length of the table as the man advanced on her. “Wh..? No!”
“Come on,” Denmark said, baring his frighteningly white canines in a grin. “It’s nothing personal. I just don’t want to die. If you come over here
willingly, I’ll snap your neck. Nice and painless. Would you like that?”
Taiwan wasn’t swayed. She pushed off of the table, rushing into the small kitchen area. In her haste, she forgot to hold up her dress, and she stumbled forward, a new pain sprouting in her ankle. On her way down, she grabbed the knob of the nearest door, trying frantically to open it. If there was a back door or a window or something, she could get out and run into the forest, safe and sound. But the doorknob kept slipping out of her sweaty palms, and Denmark was closing in on her fast.
“Go away!” she yelled, grabbing the handle of a drawer above her head and pulling it out.
The contents of the fallen drawer spilled out between the two of them, a mess of all kinds of kitchen utensils. Taiwan grabbed a large, sharp knife, holding it in front of herself with quivering hands.
“Don’t be like that,” Denmark said, his smile momentarily changing into a frown. Reaching out, he said, “Gimme the knife.”
In response, Taiwan let out another yell, slashing the knife out before her. Denmark cursed in his native language, drawing back his now-bleeding hand. He kicked and stomped, sending some of the fallen silverware skittering towards Taiwan.
Taiwan used this opportunity to lock her eyes on her bag. If she could get to that, she’d have a proper weapon. Or she could grab her supplies and run, no violence necessary. With Denmark still swearing up a storm, she stood up, remembering to hitch her dress up as she ran. As soon as she was close enough, she dove forward, grabbing the straps of her bag with the knife still clutched in her hand.
She fumbled when trying to unzip it, becoming increasingly anxious when she heard Denmark’s heavy footsteps quickly approaching. She had just managed to unzip the bag, the rifle sitting there on the top of the pile of supplies, when pain exploded in the formerly uninjured side of her head. Denmark had brought the edge of the lid down on her, and a few drops of blood splashed onto the wooden floor.
Taiwan grabbed for the rifle, a frightened “Stop!” escaping her lips, but before she could get to it, Denmark kicked the bag away. She rolled over, crossing her arms in front of her head just as Denmark delivered another blow with the lid. Taiwan screamed, and almost immediately, her wrist began to swell. Moving the fingers on her left hand was now a chore.
“Give up already!” Denmark said, growling.
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Free again, Taiwan stumbled over to her bag and pulled out the rifle. She struggled to pull the handle back with only one arm, muttering quiet pleas in Taiwanese until she finally got it all the way back. The handle slid back forward quickly, and Taiwan raised the rifle, finger on the trigger.
Denmark was no longer standing in front of her.
Taiwan’s breathing was shallow, sweat and blood running down her face. She hadn’t heard Denmark move. She scolded herself for not paying more attention to the sounds around her when she was struggling with the weapon, and turned her head. She only saw a flash of black and red clothing before Denmark’s foot connected with her ribs, making a stomach-churning cracking sound and knocking the breath right out of her.
“Is this in bad taste, attacking a girl..?” Denmark wondered aloud as Taiwan coughed and spluttered underneath him. “…Nah, she’s got a gun. It’s self-defense, really.”
Now, rather than her short breaths being a product of her anxiety, they were because of her punctured lung. With every cough, Taiwan’s body shook, sending tremors of pain throughout her body. Heavy drops of blood splashed onto the floor, and the taste of copper was thick on her tongue.
“Please, I don’t want to die…” she said, her voice small and raspy.
She looked up at Denmark, her big brown eyes rimmed with dark circles. Her face was pale and streaked with blood, sweat, and freshly-fallen tears that cut trails through the grime on her cheeks. For just a moment, she looked weak and vulnerable, but in a split second, it changed to something much stronger, much more intense. For a moment, Denmark was stunned. Then, suddenly, Taiwan moved, lifting the rifle with a surprising burst of strength.
“No! I don’t want to die!” she shouted, pulling the trigger.
The kickback knocked the gun backward and threw her good arm out of socket, and she wailed in pain, an echo of Denmark’s pained cry above her. Now on her back, Taiwan struggled to turn her body to get a good look at the man. Denmark was cupping his shoulder, the pot lid discarded at his feet, and Taiwan could just barely see deep red blood seeping out from between his gloved fingers.
Her chest heaved as she tried to suck in air, but with every breath, her broken ribs cut into her lung. Her right arm was completely immobile, bent backwards at an odd angle, and the blood gathering in her throat began to choke her. Every cough sent a few drops of blood flying out of her mouth, only to land on her face seconds later. With a great heave, she rolled over onto her swollen forearm, spitting out all of the blood that had accumulated in her mouth.
She had no power left to scream, so she groaned. It was a tiny, broken sound, and even something as small as that noise made her feel as if her chest was on fire. The sound of Denmark’s loud swearing seemed to reach her brain through a filter, sounding farther away with every passing second.
As the edges of her vision began to blur and her body began to tremble from a chill that seemed to come from deep within her, Taiwan thought, ‘Please… I don’t want to die… Japan… J-Japan, help…’
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Everything was pain. Pure, unfiltered pain. She could no longer see anything but darkness, and couldn’t hear anything but her own ragged breaths. Mere seconds ago, the desire to live had propelled her forward, but now, the pain of living was near unbearable.
Soon enough, another sense - taste - was robbed of her, and the coppery flavor of her own blood on her tongue disappeared. After that, blood and mucus clogged her nose, and the scents of the rustic wooden floorboards and her blood overwhelming the sweet pine outside were no more. No sight, no taste, no smell, no hearing, just feeling.
Everyone had described the wonders of touch, and how wonderful and sensual it was to have your eyes shut while absorbing every detail of, say, your lover’s fingers trailing over your body. But Taiwan disagreed with them. Just touch, nothing else, was horrible. Pain no longer overshadowed her senses. Pain was her senses.
It felt like hours that she laid there, her wounds throbbing with every quick beat of her heart. When the frantic muscle began to calm down, it felt like a blessing. Her slowed heart rate meant a few more seconds where the pain had died down before the inevitable flare that accompanied the beat. The hardwood floor began to feel just as soft and airless as the dingy couch cushions she had been lying on before. Then, starting with her feet and ending with her head, the pain began to fade away.
Taiwan, using the last bits of her strength, smiled. Because while living seemed to bring her nothing but pain, dying was nothing.
And nothing was peaceful.
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Estonia winced, trying to pinpoint the area that the noise had come from. He shifted his weight, adjusting the two bags that he was carrying and looking down at his smaller companion.
“Come on, Sealand, we have to go,” he said, trying to remain calm for the micro-nation’s sake.
They had run into each other shortly after Estonia had been released. A few yards ahead, Sealand was struggling with his bag, which was about half his size (and most likely, twice his weight). He’d tried to flee when Estonia first announced his presence, but Estonia, the “family friend” of sorts, was able to convince him to stay.
Estonia couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. Sealand hadn’t even been a registered member of the meeting, as always. He’d snuck in, as he usually did, and as a result, he’d gotten wrapped up in this mess with the larger nations. Estonia wasn’t the biggest or the strongest nation around, and truthfully, he’d been shaking in his boots since he woke up, but he wouldn’t chicken out of helping a weaker nation (and the child of a friend, at that).
Sealand gulped and nodded, squeezing the older nation’s hand tightly. He didn’t dare to speak, afraid that someone would hear him (which wasn’t an irrational fear by any means). Estonia led the way, taking the path of least resistance through the forest. Every now and again, a twig would snap under their feet, or a branch that they pushed out of their way would bounce back with particular force, and the pair would freeze for just a moment, still like deer in headlights. When there was no sign of anyone coming after them, they continued on, beads of sweat forming on their brow despite the cool breeze blowing around them.
After a while, the noises of the forest around the pair began to sound a bit less peaceful. Along with their soft footsteps, a soft rustling could be heard up ahead. At first, Estonia dismissed the noise as a stray animal, but it only got louder as they got closer. Sealand must have heard the noise as well, because his vice grip only became tighter, his knuckles turning white.
Abruptly, Estonia came to a stop, but the rustling of the trees up ahead - along with distinct footsteps - continued. He put a finger to his lips and looked down at Sealand, who pressed his own lips into a thin, tight line. The older nation ducked behind a tree, and soon enough, a soft voice could be heard, though the words were unintelligible.
Estonia took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes locked on the foliage before him. As Sealand clung to his leg, he began to make out the low-hanging tree branches moving, and a distinctly human shape cutting his way through the place none-too-gently. The figure stopped and turned around, cursing under their breath and looking as if they were trying to tug their foot out from under a root. Then, with a great yank, they fell backward, accompanied by a loud, rather distinct swear.
“Bloody fucking piss-!”
And just like that, in a rather undignified manner, England tumbled onto the ground before them. Leaves adorned his hair and clothing, along with the occasional twig, and a nice layer of dirt topped it all off. He had just barely managed to avoid landing on the cutlass he was holding, and a scowl ten times nastier than his usual one graced his dirt-caked face.
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Estonia let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as England sat up, brushing a bit of dirt off of his suit (as if it would make a difference). He turned towards the pair, squinting a bit before his eyes opened wide.
“Sealand?!”
He stood up, his face showing a mixture of confusion and anger. Sealand notably moved to stand on his toes, attempting to look as large as possible.
“What the bleedin’ ’ell are you doin’ ’ere?” England asked. His accent, usually posh and a perfect example of the Queen’s English, had turned into a garbled mess of borderline-cockney. “You weren’t even at the meeting!”
“That’s what you think!” Sealand said, still shivering like a wet puppy, but standing tall all the same. “You just didn’t notice that I was there because you’re old and stupid!”
“You- I-!” England started, flushing. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath, then continued on. While his accent was no longer as thick, and his scowl had disappeared, the changes had somehow managed to make England look even more intimidating (at least, in Estonia’s humble opinion). “We don’t have time to argue about this. Now, come with me.”
“What?” Sealand asked. “Why should I?”
“Why the hell shouldn’t you?!” England snapped, one generous eyebrow twitching. “I’m your big brother. I’m going to take care of you, and that’s that!”
“No way!” Sealand said. “You’ll probably end up leaving me somewhere by myself, jerk!”
“I would never-!” England said, but this time it was Estonia that cut him off.
“Gentlemen, please,” he said, stepping between the two. “I understand why you’re both a bit upset right now, but I implore you, keep your voices down… If you keep screaming, the, ahem, others will flock to us…”
Once he finished talking, Estonia coughed gently into his fist and averted his eyes. By his tone, it wasn’t hard to guess who he meant by “others.” England’s brow furrowed, and he sighed, grabbing one of the bags from Estonia and slinging it over his own shoulder, in no hurry to meet a certain large, cold nation.
“Throw out your back like that, you will,” he said. “I’ll take that.”
“Oh, you really don’t have to…” Estonia said, but England ignored him.
He looked down at Sealand, ready to prod some more, but the boy was white
as a sheet, looking around at the gently-swaying leaves and branches that surrounded them.
“Sealand?” he said, making sure to speak softly this time. “We have to-”
“Shh!” Sealand said, doing a double-take. “I heard something.”
“What?” England asked. “Don’t be silly, it was probably a rabbit or something. Now, we should really-”
“Get down!” Estonia said suddenly, grabbing both boys by the shoulder and forcing them to the ground.
No sooner than their knees had hit the forest floor, a gunshot rang out above them. Sealand screamed, covering his head with his hands, and England struggled to get a good look at their attacker through the brush.
“Who the hell..?!” he asked, wincing as another shot was fired. Next to him, Sealand let out a frightened cry. “Whoever you are, cut it out! We’re not playing!”
The person either didn’t hear England or didn’t care, and a rustling in the trees alerted them that the person was moving closer. England kept low to the ground, unzipping one of the bags and rooting around in it quickly.
“Shit, shit…” he said, picking up a box cutter and turning it over in his hand. After a second, he tossed it back into the bag and zipped it shut, then turned and grabbed Estonia’s.
“What-?!” Estonia said, jumping in surprise.
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Another shot rang out above them, even louder this time. England stood, ducking under some underbrush and calling for the others to follow him. Estonia took Sealand’s hand once more, coaxing the whimpering nation to walk in front of him, behind England.
“Mr. England,” Estonia said, “Sir, I don’t think… I mean, shooting something like this…”
“You’ll do it if you have to,” England insisted, his cool tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll do it, or we die. Simple as-” Another gunshot, this one a bit farther away. England frowned. “-that.”
Estonia bit his lip, but didn’t protest any further. The gunshots had stopped, but the rustling behind them continued, as if their attacker had lost sight of them, but had no will to let them go.
‘Who could be doing this?’ Estonia thought, brow furrowing in concentration. ‘Russia? No, this isn’t like him… He never preferred guns. But Switzerland… No, no, he wouldn’t… Would he?’
Estonia’s thoughts were scrambled as another gunshot was fired. Much to his shock, the shot had come from in front of them, and the bullet narrowly missed its target, landing with a sharp crack in the tree just behind Estonia.
“Shit!” England said, swerving sharply off to the side. “The bastard got in front of us.” Estonia was ready to point out that that was obvious enough, but an intense look from England shut him up. He looked Estonia in the eyes, then down at the pistol. “Get ready to use that thing,” he said, pushing Sealand behind a bush before ducking behind it himself.
Estonia shivered and made a weak noise of protest, crouching down beside the pair. To be frank, the idea of using a gun sickened him. While he wasn’t a war-free nation, he always favored the diplomatic approach over the violent one. He would always choose a night of debugging a computer or breaking through a government firewall over a night of violent slaughter, no matter who his opponent was.
In front of them, there was a sharp ridge, covered in tangled foliage that would prove challenging for any normal person to traverse. But, as luck would have it, Estonia was on an island filled with nations. Each was hundreds, if not thousands of years old, and they had all seen their fair share of the world. Even a young nation such as America or Canada would have gotten tangled in the thickest of bushes at some point in their lives, and with time, would have learned the ins and outs of the land.
And in a time before processed foods and supermarkets, hunting was an essential skill.
The rustling of leaves moved closer, but while Estonia’s first instinct was to flee, England was standing his ground.
“Don’t move,” England whispered harshly, gripping the handle of his cutlass so tightly that the palm of his hand was sure to bear the handle’s imprint. “No matter what happens, protect Sealand. And for the love of god, do not get yourself killed, you got that?”
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Standing tall with her dark hair in a ponytail and a luger in her hand was Kenya. While she was expertly built - and swift enough to get in front of the trio while they were running at top-speed, apparently - Estonia couldn’t help but think that she was a woman, and to shoot at her would be horribly unfair.
“Kenya!” England called, peeking cautiously over the bush. “Stop this! If you don’t, we’ll have to hurt you!”
The corners of Kenya’s mouth twitched, and for a moment, Estonia thought she would have a change of heart. But she raised her gun, and England ducked a second before she pulled the trigger.
“Fire, damn it!” England said, grabbing Sealand’s head and forcing him closer to the ground. “Fire!”
“But-” Estonia said, but England cut him off.
“Now!”
Estonia looked down, fiddling with the weapon. He was no stranger to it, but his hands were terribly shaky, and turning off the safety proved to be a challenge. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow, and he didn’t hear what England was shouting, a flood of relief washing over him when he finally clicked the safety off. He placed his finger on the trigger and looked up, just in time to see Kenya pointing her gun at him.
Before he knew it, he was on his back, too confused to see anything for a moment. He’d heard two gunshots, and shut his eyes tightly, expecting to feel a burst of pain at any moment. Nothing. A few seconds passed, and he dared to crack his eyes open. England was sitting over him, his hands on Estonia’s shoulders. However, the target of his gaze wasn’t Estonia, but rather, Kenya.
Estonia strained to see her, his glasses askew. She had dropped her weapon, and her hands were raised to her chest. When he saw blood seeping out of her shirt, Estonia’s stomach sank with the realization that, in the confusion, he had pulled the trigger of his own gun.
For a moment, everything was still. Even Sealand’s whimpering had stopped. Then, Kenya placed one foot forward, onto the very edge of the ledge. The ground crumbled underneath her foot, and she tumbled forward. She fell down the ledge limply, as if she were a ragdoll, without making a sound.
Her body landed less than three feet away from the bush the trio was hiding behind. Estonia, whose limbs had locked up under him, suddenly sprang to life, scrambling backwards.
“I… I didn’t..!” Estonia said, his voice a few octaves too high. “I wasn’t..!”
“It’s all right,” England said, one hand on Sealand’s shoulder, the other wiping sweat off of his brow. The micro nation rose, trembling all over, his hands over his eyes. “You didn’t mean to. She was… It’s all right.”
England’s voice, smooth as it was, did nothing to calm Estonia. His eyes were locked on the gun he held loosely in his hand, and everything else seemed to fade away. His mind was bombarded with thoughts; with little, scolding voices telling him that he should have been more competent, paid more attention, aimed for an arm or a leg or somewhere else non-fatal.
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“He’s out of it,” England said, keeping a tight grip on Sealand’s shoulder. “The gunshots will have attracted attention. We have to go.”
“But… But what about-?” Sealand started, only to be pulled away from the numb, wide-eyed Estonia.
“Leave him,” England said.
“What the heck, jerk?!” Sealand asked, his bushy brows furrowing. Glaring at England, he went on, “You’re just gonna leave him here? All by himself?!”
“I can’t afford to be slowed down by more weight,” England said, lifting his shoulders to indicate the two bags he was carrying. “If I have to carry him around, we’ll never get anywhere. We’re sitting ducks out here, don’t you understand?”
“But he-! We can’t just-!” Sealand said as England began to tug him away.
“No buts!” England, who had raised his voice, took a second to take a deep breath and compose himself. “I don’t want to leave him, but I just can’t drag him along. Please, Sealand, try to understand.”
Sealand blinked back a few tears that had sprung up from a mixture of anger, fright, and uncertainty, and stumbled along beside England without voicing any further protests. As they continued on, farther from the scene, he managed to convince himself that Estonia would be okay. He was smart, after all. Though he didn’t talk to the Baltic nation much when he came to visit them (well, “Mama” Finland, mainly), that much was apparent. He would snap out of it soon enough, and be right behind them.
A few minutes later, the pair heard a single, dull gunshot in the distance behind them.
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North America: 3 - Europe: 17 - Nordic Europe: 5 - Mediterranean: 2 - Baltics: 3 - Asia: 6 Africa: 2 - Down Under: 1
1. United States
2. Canada
3. Cuba
4. England
5. France
6. Germany
7. Austria
8. Hungary
9. N. Italy
10. S. Italy
11. Spain
12. Switzerland
13. Liechtenstein
14. Poland
15. Sealand
16. Belarus
17. Ukraine
18. Prussia
19. Belguim
20. Bulgaria
21. Iceland
22. Sweden
23. Denmark
24. Norway
25. Finland
26. Greece
27. Turkey
28. Egypt
29. Lithuania
30. Estonia
31. Latvia
32. Russia
33. China
34. S. Korea
35. Japan
36. Taiwan
37. Hong Kong
38. Vietnam
39. Seychelles
40. Kenya
41. Zimbabwe
42. Australia
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I keep forgetting to correct my spelling mistake on the roster. I misspelled Belgium's name. Sorry, Belgium. orz
And I hope you guys like it! Concrit is much appreciated!
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So much angst (T.T) and scary Denmark, though it was lovely. Keep going!
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England is SO BADASS! <3
And yes, leaving Estonia like that is something he would totally do. I'm glad you don't shy away from England's mean pragmatic streak. Now he has a mission, protecting Sealand. Will he meet with America or France soon? Gosh, I hope you update sooner, because I can't take this any longer! I need moreeeeee
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