Once and Future King (1/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 04:36:30 UTC
Author's note: this can be set during the Blitz, during some unspecified future disaster, apocalypse scenario, what have you. I made up a lot of stuff about - well, about a character who's practically an OC. Fun, though! Anon, I know you have a thing for Churchill=Arthur, but I chose a bit of a different route. Hope you don't mind.
The Once and Future King
Alfred shivered as Arthur moaned yet again, a helpless, bitten-off sound of pain. The younger nation held the elder closer, feeling another wound break open; warm blood dripped beneath his fingers as Arthur writhed in his grasp. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, Arthur, I’m here.” He blinked rapidly, helpless to hold back his tears. “You’re not - youre not dead yet, right? Because - because you can’t be. I’m the hero, right? So just - just hold on until my boys get here, okay? I’ll save you, okay?” His grin wobbled dangerously. “It’s what heroes do, right?”
“Prat.” Arthur breathed, shoulders going slack. He wiggled in the blonde’s grasp, managing to twist enough to glare up at the worried nation. “They’re not going to get here in time, and you know it.” Another wave of pain hit him; he doubled over, agony stealing away his breath as he screamed soundlessly.
Alfred glanced up, meeting France’s eyes; the older nation stared at them helplessly, shaking his head slowly. America swallowed hard. “You - you can’t die, Arthur. Just hang in there, okay? Hang on…” His voice broke. “Please, don’t talk like that. Please, Arthur, please, don’t die…”
“I’m dying, you berk!” Arthur still managed to sound prissy even in the throes of agony. “I can sound however I damn well please!” He spat blood on the carpet, coughing helplessly. “Damn it all…” His fingers twitched convulsively.
The other nations had gathered around them by now, eyes wide and faces pale as they kept a respectable distance from the two kneeling nations. Alfred paid them no mind, his entire focus on the writhing figure in his arms.
Arthur couldn’t die. England couldn’t die. Not England. Not the Nation who had raised him from a child, his old sovereign state - not Arthur, not the man who cooked the worst food in the universe, who drank like a fish and smoked like a cinderblock and insulted him with every other breath and who he - he… England couldn’t die. It was a simple fact of the universe. Arthur could not die… The sound of the door opening shocked Alfred from his stunned thoughts.
“Please let me through.”
The voice was calm and commanding; the assembled nations found themselves moving automatically even as the last echoes faded from the air. Alfred glanced up, seeing a ripple going through the assembled Nations as a man, a human - what was a human doing here? - pushed his way through the crowd, squatting before the two of them as he stared at them in honest concern. Untidy red hair framed two piercing blue eyes as he hesitantly reached towards Arthur. “Albion?” His voice was soft.
England jerked at the name, turning slowly in Alfred’s arms; he stiffened instantly, going absolutely still at he stared at the man. “You…”
“Me.”
“I never knew insanity was a symptom of encroaching death.” Arthur was suddenly eerily calm. “This is a hallucination. You can’t be here.”
The man smiled hesitantly, worry in his eyes. “And why not?” His voice was gently imploring.
“How dare you.” Arthur breathed, glaring at him through red eyes. “How dare you!” He howled, heaving himself upright. His fists clenched. “This is some kind of sick joke, isn’t it. How dare you impersonate him!” He staggered to his feet, gritting his teeth and swaying back and forth as his wounds re-opened. “I’m going to kill - “ He lunged forward with the last of his strength, fists upraised.
Alfred made an abortive move to catch him, but the stranger was faster still; he left forward, easily deflecting England’s feeble blows as he caught him by the shoulders. “Easy there, my lion.” He stared down at the weakly struggling nation with unabashed concern.
Arthur went suddenly, abruptly limp. He stared upwards, eyes wide. “What did you just…” He took a stumbling half-step backwards. “What did you call me?” The words were less then a whisper, something bright and horribly exposed crossing his features.
Re: Once and Future King (2/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 04:37:44 UTC
“My lion.” The redhead smiled, a helpless grin twitching across his face.
Arthur stared at him for a long moment before taking a hesitant step forwards. He stumbled, catching himself as he forced himself to walk forward, the unabashed emotion on his features almost painful as he reached out a hand, trailing the edge of the stranger’s face. He stared hard at the man for a long moment.
“My king.” The nation breathed, and were those tears in his leaf-green eyes?
Arthur bowed suddenly, the long, formal bow given only to one’s liege-lord. He knelt on the patterned carpet, head bent, unaware - or uncaring - of the other nations’ shock and sudden shock. Arthur never bowed like that, not since the signing of the Manga Carta; some nations still bore the scars of his violent refusal. The nation in question seemed oblivious to their surprise; he stared upwards, at the man who had entered the room, awe and adoration spread across his features as his mouth went slack with shock. “You came back.” It was a disbelieving whisper.
The auburn-haired man’s eyes were kind as he knelt beside the country. “I said I would, didn’t I?” He chided gently, smiling softly at the nation before him.
“Arthur?” Alfred drew cautiously nearer, putting a cautious hand on England’s shoulder. “Who’s this guy?”
The redhead quirked a quick grin at the kneeling nation. “Arthur?”
The blonde flushed. “It seemed fitting at the time.” He shrugged, solemnity stealing across his features as he stared up into dancing blue eyes. “I have kept your name safe, my lord. Shall I return it to your keeping?”
The redhead laughed. “My friend, you do me honor.” He smiled downwards, placing one hand on England’s head as he rose. “I am proud” he stated gently “It could not have found a better keeper.”
England - and it was England now, stripped of all human names - smiled like the rising sun. He looked suddenly younger, stripped of the cares and fatigue of war and age, as if light ran in his veins instead of blood. “What now, my lord?”
“What else, my lion?” The man laughed. “I hear we’ve gotten into a spot of trouble at the moment.” He grinned down, gently pulling the nation to his feet.
England steadied himself, leaning against the other man as he steadied suddenly trembling limbs. “Nothing serious, my lord. Hardly even worth the trouble.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m ashamed they managed to stir you.”
“Well then.” And the man grinned, smile sharp and deadly. “High time I had a bit of sport.”
England grinned back, his expression unfolding like a switchblade, a terrible promise of death and pain. “Will you call the hunt, my king?” He practically purred in anticipation; France sat up sharply at the sound, blanching at long ago memories of red seas, bright swords, and unconquered laughter beneath an endless sky. “I have waited so long…” He spread his hands in a gesture of helpless supplication.
The man chuckled. “We’ll have to make a quick stop first. These are splendid weapons you’ve come up with these days; I really must congradulate you.” He grinned, placing a hand on the nation’s shoulder. “I rather like the automatic revolvers. But I feel like doing things the old-fashioned way this time. You do still have my sword, don’t you?”
“Safe as houses, milord.” England leaned into the touch. “I gave it into her keeping; no surer guardian could be found.”
“Save yourself.” The man bantered back, chuckling. “As always, you sell yourself far too short. And how many times must I ask you to call me by my name?”
England grinned impishly; it was an expression the stunned nations had never imagined could ever cross those craggy features. “At least once more, my king.”
“England…” The man made a face.
“All right, Arthur.” The two turned, beginning to make their way from the room. The assembled nations parted for them, stunned into immobility.
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 04:38:44 UTC
“We shall fight on the seas and oceans.” England said dreamily, keeping step. A hungry, expectant smile crept across his features. “We shall fight in the air. We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be.” With ever step years and fatigue seemed to fall away and he stood tall and proud. “We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills, we shall never surrender…” He strode forward, eyes bright and clear, wounds forgotten as he followed his liege lord.
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 09:28:03 UTC
THIS ANON AGREES WITH PREVIOUS ANONS, AND YES FFFFFF THIS IS INCREDIBLE. In my head!canon England has always been in love with King Arthur and this is exactly what I've ben craving, ksjjdkhsk, author!anon, I adore you for this ♥♥♥
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 09:59:29 UTC
I love you so much for this you have no idea. My face was inches away from my computer in excitement when Arthur showed up and grew closer with every line. You filled me with childish glee Anon. Did I mention I love you?
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 15:10:13 UTC
The lyricality of this is absolutely amazing. Just that transformation that England goes through... it's frightening and wonderful and just vivid. Oh, England, you vicious, glorious bastard-
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 23 2009, 16:34:20 UTC
Holy shit. Holy shit.
Why...why did this make me tear up!? *cackles* Ohhh, this was absolutely fantastic. Tally ho, indeed! Whatever the heck it was that hurt England is in for a world of hurt now. ljfds. *a smidge beyond coherency, yes*
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 24 2009, 14:15:37 UTC
MOTHER OF GOD, WRITER!ANON! That was absolutely fantastic. England and King Arthur are just... Holy shit. I seriously enjoyed every single fucking word of this fill afaksdfjhaslk
too incoherent to leave a proper reply, but please know that I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY BEING.
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 24 2009, 18:28:28 UTC
oh Oh OH OH! Dearest author anon this touched a part of me that I can't even begin to explain how I felt when King Arthur appeared calling UK lion. My insides roared at the devotion and loyalty UK had to his favorite king. I'm a mess now because I don't know whether you will understand this blerb. JUST KNOW I WILL STALK YOU IF YOU EVER DE-ANON!
Re: Once and Future King (3/2)
anonymous
May 24 2009, 20:24:36 UTC
I. I. ...
*gets down on one knee* Have my hand in marriage and my illegitimate internet-children? Arthurian-Geek!Anon practically came while reading this, and humbly requests a sequel? <3 Mostly because you, Write!Anon, are secretly Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, and all 9 Muses rolled into one. :D
Captcha: goode the. Wai yes. IT WAS GOOD. GOOD DOES NOT DO IT JUSTICE. <3
The Once and Future King
Alfred shivered as Arthur moaned yet again, a helpless, bitten-off sound of pain. The younger nation held the elder closer, feeling another wound break open; warm blood dripped beneath his fingers as Arthur writhed in his grasp. “Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, Arthur, I’m here.” He blinked rapidly, helpless to hold back his tears. “You’re not - youre not dead yet, right? Because - because you can’t be. I’m the hero, right? So just - just hold on until my boys get here, okay? I’ll save you, okay?” His grin wobbled dangerously. “It’s what heroes do, right?”
“Prat.” Arthur breathed, shoulders going slack. He wiggled in the blonde’s grasp, managing to twist enough to glare up at the worried nation. “They’re not going to get here in time, and you know it.” Another wave of pain hit him; he doubled over, agony stealing away his breath as he screamed soundlessly.
Alfred glanced up, meeting France’s eyes; the older nation stared at them helplessly, shaking his head slowly. America swallowed hard. “You - you can’t die, Arthur. Just hang in there, okay? Hang on…” His voice broke. “Please, don’t talk like that. Please, Arthur, please, don’t die…”
“I’m dying, you berk!” Arthur still managed to sound prissy even in the throes of agony. “I can sound however I damn well please!” He spat blood on the carpet, coughing helplessly. “Damn it all…” His fingers twitched convulsively.
The other nations had gathered around them by now, eyes wide and faces pale as they kept a respectable distance from the two kneeling nations. Alfred paid them no mind, his entire focus on the writhing figure in his arms.
Arthur couldn’t die. England couldn’t die. Not England. Not the Nation who had raised him from a child, his old sovereign state - not Arthur, not the man who cooked the worst food in the universe, who drank like a fish and smoked like a cinderblock and insulted him with every other breath and who he - he… England couldn’t die. It was a simple fact of the universe. Arthur could not die… The sound of the door opening shocked Alfred from his stunned thoughts.
“Please let me through.”
The voice was calm and commanding; the assembled nations found themselves moving automatically even as the last echoes faded from the air. Alfred glanced up, seeing a ripple going through the assembled Nations as a man, a human - what was a human doing here? - pushed his way through the crowd, squatting before the two of them as he stared at them in honest concern. Untidy red hair framed two piercing blue eyes as he hesitantly reached towards Arthur. “Albion?” His voice was soft.
England jerked at the name, turning slowly in Alfred’s arms; he stiffened instantly, going absolutely still at he stared at the man. “You…”
“Me.”
“I never knew insanity was a symptom of encroaching death.” Arthur was suddenly eerily calm. “This is a hallucination. You can’t be here.”
The man smiled hesitantly, worry in his eyes. “And why not?” His voice was gently imploring.
“How dare you.” Arthur breathed, glaring at him through red eyes. “How dare you!” He howled, heaving himself upright. His fists clenched. “This is some kind of sick joke, isn’t it. How dare you impersonate him!” He staggered to his feet, gritting his teeth and swaying back and forth as his wounds re-opened. “I’m going to kill - “ He lunged forward with the last of his strength, fists upraised.
Alfred made an abortive move to catch him, but the stranger was faster still; he left forward, easily deflecting England’s feeble blows as he caught him by the shoulders. “Easy there, my lion.” He stared down at the weakly struggling nation with unabashed concern.
Arthur went suddenly, abruptly limp. He stared upwards, eyes wide. “What did you just…” He took a stumbling half-step backwards. “What did you call me?” The words were less then a whisper, something bright and horribly exposed crossing his features.
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Arthur stared at him for a long moment before taking a hesitant step forwards. He stumbled, catching himself as he forced himself to walk forward, the unabashed emotion on his features almost painful as he reached out a hand, trailing the edge of the stranger’s face. He stared hard at the man for a long moment.
“My king.” The nation breathed, and were those tears in his leaf-green eyes?
Arthur bowed suddenly, the long, formal bow given only to one’s liege-lord. He knelt on the patterned carpet, head bent, unaware - or uncaring - of the other nations’ shock and sudden shock. Arthur never bowed like that, not since the signing of the Manga Carta; some nations still bore the scars of his violent refusal. The nation in question seemed oblivious to their surprise; he stared upwards, at the man who had entered the room, awe and adoration spread across his features as his mouth went slack with shock. “You came back.” It was a disbelieving whisper.
The auburn-haired man’s eyes were kind as he knelt beside the country. “I said I would, didn’t I?” He chided gently, smiling softly at the nation before him.
“Arthur?” Alfred drew cautiously nearer, putting a cautious hand on England’s shoulder. “Who’s this guy?”
The redhead quirked a quick grin at the kneeling nation. “Arthur?”
The blonde flushed. “It seemed fitting at the time.” He shrugged, solemnity stealing across his features as he stared up into dancing blue eyes. “I have kept your name safe, my lord. Shall I return it to your keeping?”
The redhead laughed. “My friend, you do me honor.” He smiled downwards, placing one hand on England’s head as he rose. “I am proud” he stated gently “It could not have found a better keeper.”
England - and it was England now, stripped of all human names - smiled like the rising sun. He looked suddenly younger, stripped of the cares and fatigue of war and age, as if light ran in his veins instead of blood. “What now, my lord?”
“What else, my lion?” The man laughed. “I hear we’ve gotten into a spot of trouble at the moment.” He grinned down, gently pulling the nation to his feet.
England steadied himself, leaning against the other man as he steadied suddenly trembling limbs. “Nothing serious, my lord. Hardly even worth the trouble.” He sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “I’m ashamed they managed to stir you.”
“Well then.” And the man grinned, smile sharp and deadly. “High time I had a bit of sport.”
England grinned back, his expression unfolding like a switchblade, a terrible promise of death and pain. “Will you call the hunt, my king?” He practically purred in anticipation; France sat up sharply at the sound, blanching at long ago memories of red seas, bright swords, and unconquered laughter beneath an endless sky. “I have waited so long…” He spread his hands in a gesture of helpless supplication.
The man chuckled. “We’ll have to make a quick stop first. These are splendid weapons you’ve come up with these days; I really must congradulate you.” He grinned, placing a hand on the nation’s shoulder. “I rather like the automatic revolvers. But I feel like doing things the old-fashioned way this time. You do still have my sword, don’t you?”
“Safe as houses, milord.” England leaned into the touch. “I gave it into her keeping; no surer guardian could be found.”
“Save yourself.” The man bantered back, chuckling. “As always, you sell yourself far too short. And how many times must I ask you to call me by my name?”
England grinned impishly; it was an expression the stunned nations had never imagined could ever cross those craggy features. “At least once more, my king.”
“England…” The man made a face.
“All right, Arthur.” The two turned, beginning to make their way from the room. The assembled nations parted for them, stunned into immobility.
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King Arthur grinned. “Tally ho.”
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Oh God, so fucking badass, these two are.
I LOVE YOU SO HARD. This is the Arthur/England fic I've been searching for all my life. ♥♥
MARRY ME, AUTHOR ANON!
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A good fill, a damnably good fill.
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Why...why did this make me tear up!? *cackles* Ohhh, this was absolutely fantastic. Tally ho, indeed! Whatever the heck it was that hurt England is in for a world of hurt now. ljfds. *a smidge beyond coherency, yes*
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too incoherent to leave a proper reply, but please know that I LOVE YOU WITH ALL MY BEING.
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GODDAMNIT
I CAN'T EVEN
i am so incoherent right now omg
THIS WAS AMAZING I LOVE YOU SO HARD FOR THIS OH GOD
brb going to read this again
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*gets down on one knee* Have my hand in marriage and my illegitimate internet-children? Arthurian-Geek!Anon practically came while reading this, and humbly requests a sequel? <3 Mostly because you, Write!Anon, are secretly Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, and all 9 Muses rolled into one. :D
Captcha: goode the. Wai yes. IT WAS GOOD. GOOD DOES NOT DO IT JUSTICE. <3
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