[Axis Powers Hetalia] Croatoan (England/America)
Title: Croatoan
Author/Artist: halflight007/lenarix_klinde (beta by konishii)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America/England, mentions of Greece/Japan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Supernatural, Action/Adventure
Warnings: Language, mild crossover, violence in this chapter
Summary: On a crisp Halloween night, America disappears into the forests with no warning, and England will have to fight his way through a corrupted world to save him.
Disclaimer: Himayura-sensei lets me play with them as long as I clean ‘em off before I give them back. All other series mentioned are copyright their respective creators.
Author’s Notes: Thank you to everyone who has commented so far!
Prologue
___
Halloween, 2008
Arthur remembers.
He feels the hot taste of blood and sweat at the very back of his throat, feels the sharp bite of winter air against his face.
Even though he’s not moving at all, Arthur remembers and feels his limbs grow weighty with exhaustion as panic rises.
Arthur skids to a stop, turning his head, watching his breath billow from his mouth in gentle clouds. “Cobweb,” he cries, and hears Titania’s distress in his own voice. “Cobweb!”
No answer, except the whisper of winter wind through thick branches. Arthur swears and picks up his pace.
He can’t be far, Arthur thinks, as he sees Titania’s clearing up ahead, recognizing moonlight on her pond. He’s fine. Cobweb - Cobweb will be all right, he’s just -
Arthur shoves a branch aside, bursts into the clearing.
He skids to a stop, and the pain his toes feel through the snow’s chill falls dead.
Cobweb was always small, the smallest of his fairies; when he complained, Arthur would chuckle and hold out a palm. “You are also the only one who can fit in my hands still,” Arthur would tell him, and watch with tenderness as Cobweb broke into a very small smile.
Arthur walks around the frozen pond, cups his hand, and lifts Cobweb from the cold, snowy earth.
Arthur thinks about how small he looks in death, and how fragile. It takes him a moment to realize the drops of water on the mound of snow in his hands are from his tears, and not from freezing rain.
“Cobweb,” he murmurs, and bows his head. “Cobweb. No. Not you, too.”
Arthur recalls how it feels as his heart breaks again- not just for Titania, but for himself. He can’t protect any of them from the monster that descends softly and swiftly to rip their precious lives away. He can’t protect those that only he can see.
“So it’s happened here, as well.”
Arthur’s head snaps up, and he snarls, pulling Cobweb’s body to him. “Who are you?” he asks, scowling at the man-shaped shadow just out of reach. (Even then, there’s something funny about him - how even he seems to stand out in sharp definition against the landscape, as though he were real.)
“Just an observer for now,” the man says. “The tengu told me something was wrong. And they were right.”
“‘They’? Something’s off? What the bloody fuck are you talking about, man?” Arthur says. “Who are you?”
Why do you only show up when I remember this? Why weren’t you there when I found Cobweb? Why couldn’t you save him? he thinks, but for some reason the words lodge in his throat and won’t come out.
The man seems to ignore him, glancing around the clearing. “The rest of this place feels fine,” he says, “For now, anyway. I won’t have to interfere yet.”
The man turns and starts to walk away. Arthur feels anger burst out of his chest through his mouth.
“And what if you do?”
The man stops and turns his head. Even in the darkness, Arthur can feel the power of his gaze.
“I am praying that it does not come to that, Arthur Kirkland.”
___
“Arthur?”
Matthew shakes him awake. Arthur comes to and finds he has tear stains on his cheeks and a white-knuckled grip on the flashlight in his hand.
“Arthur, Francis and Kiku are ready to head in whenever you are.”
Arthur blinks for a few more seconds, gathering his wits from a sleep he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. “I - I see. Right, then.” Arthur braces one hand against the tree behind him, curls a leg underneath him on the pine needle-carpeted ground and uses both to help himself up. He stretches, arching his back and groaning when it cracks.
That dream, he thinks, as blood rushes through his sleep-relaxed muscles. And that man. He frowns, his brow furrowing. He’s never seen him clearly. They never met at the clearing - only Titania and her entourage arrived later to see Arthur curled over Cobweb’s limp, frozen body. Only in dreams does he see the figure.
“Arthur….”
Arthur shakes his head, clearing it, and looks at Matthew, who has a strange expression on his face. “What is it?”
“I….” Matthew breaks off and drops his eyes to the ground. “I…I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here, especially considering what -”
“I have no idea what you’re on about.” Arthur walks past Matthew with swift, even strides, listening to the other sputter a moment before stumbling to catch up with him.
“I - I mean, it’s not healthy for you. Alfred’s been gone a year, I don’t think -”
“You’re a fool if you think this is about Alfred. I don’t miss the git at all - he up and left his entire Nation behind. Really, it’s a testament to his people that they’re able to hold each other together.”
Arthur keeps his words flat, clipped, and angry.
“Then what are you here for, Arthur?” Matthew takes two broad steps, whirls around, and comes face-to-face with Arthur. “Why are you coming back now, on the anniversary of Alfred’s disappearance?”
“Because the nephew of a dear friend of mine perished here some years ago,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “I come here as often as I can to pay my respects to him.”
Matthew blinks. “Oh. Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry, I -”
“Let’s go.” Arthur ducks his head and steps around Matthew. “I don’t want to keep Francis and Kiku waiting.”
“A-ah. Right. Let’s go, Kumajirou-chan.”
“Who are you…?”
Arthur shuts out Matthew’s whining and instead focuses on not running into the crowd around him.
He tells himself he wasn’t lying. He really did come to pay his respects to the dead. He tells himself that he came to remember and mourn a girl hundreds of years dead. That much is true.
Arthur sighs, lifts his head, and wonders if truth by omission is still a lie.
About halfway between maybe and no he sees something hiding in the boughs of a great fir. It’s the size of a three-year-old child, curled up and watching him through the needles.
Except Arthur’s pretty sure that children aren’t that pale.
And don’t have indigo irises…
And don’t have hair that blows in the wind even when there’s no breeze…
“Kirkland-san!”
Arthur’s head jerks to the side, and he sees Kiku and Francis trying to wave him over. He chooses to ignore them, turning his face back up to the fir -
- only to find that the child is gone.
“Arthur, I did not pay ten dollars to stand here all day!” Francis yells. “If you do not get over here right now, I will come to you and proceed to give you the best French kiss of your -”
“Sod off, I’m coming!” Arthur snaps, whirling around and stomping over to them. He sees Kiku lift an eyebrow at Francis, who only smirks and says something like, “Told you it would work,” but Arthur’s not sure because he doesn’t really care.
Neither does Kiku, it appears, who seems more interested in Arthur’s hands. “Um, Kirkland-san, I don’t think you need….”
Arthur blinks and looks down at his hands. The flashlight he’s holding refuses to work; it’s muddy, and the American flag decal is starting to wear off.
Arthur scowls at it before shoving it into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Let’s just get this bloody walk over with.”
“Erm, Arthur, we are forgetting someone, non?”
“Guys, waiiiiiiiiit!”
“Are we, Bonnefoy-san? …Yes, I do think we had another person with us.”
“Kumajirou, come on, they’re leaving without us!”
Arthur growls and ducks his head, starting to walk down the path. “I’m going on. You can stay if you want.”
There’s a pause before Arthur hears footsteps on the path behind him. He doesn’t really care, anyway. His focus is all on the path and on the trees around them.
His mind is far in the past, in a harbor bound for this very island.
“Arthur, are you sure you can’t come with us?”
“I’m sorry. There are things here that I need to do. I’ll visit someday, though.”
“…It’ll be awfully lonely without you reading to me at night.”
“How about this. While you’re gone, have your mother help you read a page of your Bible stories each night. And I’ll do that, too, over here - and when I come to see you, you can show me how much you’ve learned.”
“I can do that! I’ll be the best reader in the colony!”
“I have no doubt you will.”
And Arthur feels sick. His body and mind carry so much history, so many stories, that he can’t recall anything about the child. He can’t even see his face.
Yet somehow his mind can summon Alfred’s cocky smirk and blue eyes up perfectly fine. And it wasn’t fair that the stupid git’s face is so clear but the little girl he’d been so fond of was -
“Kirkland-san.”
Arthur blinks out of his frustration and looks up. Kiku’s hand is firm on his shoulder, and though his face is stoic as ever Arthur sees the sympathy lingering behind those brown eyes. Behind them, Arthur hears rapid, angry French.
“Kiku, you don’t have to call me that. Just call me Arthur.”
“Old habits die hard,” Kiku smiles, an apologetic upward flick of his mouth. “I just…I know how hard you took Alfred’s disappearance.”
Arthur snorts. “Are you bonkers? Blimey, did you not notice how quiet the meetings are now? An improvement, I say, quite capital. A-and it really is better without him blustering around, trying to be the hero and making everything worse.”
Kiku frowns. “But Kirkland-san, why did you want to come here to -”
“I’m not here because of Alfred. I’m here for someone else,” Arthur sighs. It’s not Kiku’s fault, he’s just getting tired of reliving the pain. “I think he was a nephew to a dear friend of mine. I think, it’s just…the details feel foggy. You know how it is.”
Kiku makes an understanding noise. “Yes. We are human and Nation at once - and that burden can make things hard to recall.”
“Right,” Arthur chuckles, closes his eyes, and tries to will Alfred’s face away. “I assure you, it has nothing to do with Alfred. Hell, the bastard’s probably still out here somewhere, just waiting to spring his Halloween joke on me -”
The angry French sounds behind him go from sharp to muffled and dimmed in an instant, and Arthur feels something coagulate in the pit of his stomach.
When Arthur opens his eyes and finds his world swathed in the colors of suset, he realizes that it’s dread.
“What the bloody….” But Arthur can’t finish his sentence.
He knows where he is. He’s walked through enough toadstools and looking glasses to know the feel of this world - a world close, yet parallel to theirs.
But that doesn’t answer what this place is.
This world is blighted, and the black trees with their knots and twists are crippled elders. Arthur can almost feel their cries of agony in the black specks that float and flit around the air. (One brushes his arm, and Arthur yelps as though he’s been burned; it’s sinister, and evil, and he doesn’t like it.)
There is a high, sweet, cruel sound that makes Arthur feel dizzy, and the scent of autumn leaves hangs about him like a heavy, oppressive cloak. It presses into his body and thrums through his bloodstream.
Arthur’s eyes flutter as he tries to fight it off (for it is not a good idea to sleep in the land of the Fey, as even the benevolent ones will try to keep mortals for their own). He lifts his heavy head, his thick eyebrows knit in defiance against this twilit, beautiful world.
He sees something very out of place.
A childlike fairy sits on one of the bare branches. It shines a bright white in this forest, and Arthur feels a gentle breeze blow around and past him. Arthur inhales and feels his mind clear.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me I don’t belong here, aren’t you?” he says to the fairy.
(“Kirkland-san? Kirkland-san, are you all right?”)
“No,” the creature says, and its quavering voice betrays a fear its face doesn’t show. “You’re expected. But I - I don’t know if he realizes what danger he’s putting you in -”
A dark shape moves towards Arthur, interrupting the fairy, and he can’t move as that dread shoots through his body and roots him to the path -
“Arthur!”
Arthur blinks again. Afternoon sun filers through the green pine needles, and Francis is about an inch away from his lips.
CRACK.
Arthur remedies that with his fist.
“The bloody hell were you trying to do to me, you bastard?!”
“Merde, Arthur, that was my nose! I was just trying to wake you up like le princes in those fairy tales you’re so fond of -”
“Well don’t,” Arthur huffs, snorting and turning away.
“It was Mattieu’s idea!”
“Oh no, don’t you dare try to pin this on me -”
Arthur sighs and looks up - right into Kiku’s face. Beneath the stoicism, Arthur can feel more than see his worry.
“What happened, Kirkland-san? One second we were talking, and the next you just…blacked out, it seemed like.”
“Did I.” Arthur doesn’t phrase it as a question.
“Francis was caressing your cheek and you didn’t even notice.”
“Thank you for making me feel dirty, Kiku,” Arthur grumbles, and starts down the path again. “You do realize I will need a scalding shower tonight, right?”
“Kirkland-san.” Kiku’s voice is a hand on his shoulder, turning Arthur around and clamping down so he can’t turn away. “Did you see something?”
Yes, Kiku, yes I did. I stumbled into a pocket of reality that shouldn’t be here in the first place, and said pocket is corrupted and warped beyond recognition.
Arthur wants to tell Kiku that. But Kiku’s time of understanding passed long ago, and Arthur’s all-too-familiar with the looks he’ll get if he says anything.
“It was nothing,” he says. He breaks his gaze with Kiku and turns around. “Come on. Let’s keep walking.”
_
When they reach the fork in the road that leads off to the lavatories, Arthur finds he can’t walk any further.
It’s not that he’s crying. It’s the nostalgia inside of him. He hasn’t realized that by ignoring it, he’s just letting it steep in his bones and wear him out.
He wonders if there’s any real way of avoiding guilt and the resulting regret. Then he doesn’t think about it anymore.
“Kirkland-san?”
Arthur lifts his head, but he doesn’t look at Kiku. His gaze fixes on the small path that bends into the trees and disappears towards the bathrooms.
“Last year, he waited right here for me,” he says, “The bloody git didn’t want to come with me when I took a bathroom break, so he just sat here when I went on.” Arthur feels himself deaden a little further as he bows his head. “When I came back, Alfred was gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Kiku murmurs, and his voice is soft and genuine. Arthur chooses to ignore it for now. His vision is narrowed on the path; his mind is focused on the chattering French approaching them from down the road.
“He dropped his flashlight,” he murmurs. He thumbs the flashlight in his front pocket. “Stupid bastard never went anywhere dark without his flashlight. Guess he wasn’t as scared of the dark as I thought.”
And he left me alone, he thinks. It always comes back to that.
You stupid git, you left me all alone.
He’s about to tell himself that it’s the winds that are causing him to tear up at the corner of his eyes, but the air goes still and dead. Arthur blinks and glances around.
Dread knots itself in the pit of his stomach again when he sees a pocket of golden light just beyond a close-knit group of trees.
“Kirkland-san?”
Arthur’s gaze breaks away for a moment and focuses on Kiku. “You can’t see it, can you, Kiku?” he murmurs.
“See what? …Kirkland-san, I think we should go.”
“No,” he says. One hand moves from his hoodie pouch and presses off the tree behind him. Arthur steps off the path and makes his way to the gate of trees in front of him and what they hold back.
If I leave now, he thinks, Kiku will not let me come back.
And I won’t be able to find out what’s wrong with this place.
“Kirkland-san, no,” Kiku’s hand grips his shoulder again, “I do not think you are in your right mind.”
“I guess that’s what it looks like to you,” Arthur says back, shaking off Kiku’s hand and continuing to move forward. He’s close now, close enough that he can reach out a hand and touch it, so he lifts one and stretches his fingers towards trees that look soft and blurred around the edges.
“Kirkland-san, that is enough!”
Arthur swears as Kiku grabs his wrist and tugs. He stretches his arm one last time and only just manages to touch the warped air with the tip of his middle finger.
But it does the trick.
The air swirls and surges through the cracks in the tree. It wraps around Arthur, suffocates him with sweet noise and sweet scents and warmth that’s just comfortable enough to sleep in.
When the feeling has passed, he opens his eyes and finds himself back in…whatever this place is. It’s almost the same as before.
But something is different. Arthur frowns and looks around. Yes, something has been added that wasn’t here before. He just can’t place a finger on -
“Kirkland-san.”
Arthur whirls around, his eyes growing wide, and nearly runs into someone standing behind him, someone who still has a grip on his wrist.
Kiku Honda stares at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. His paling skin stands out against this yellow world, and his grip slackens on Arthur’s wrist.
“Kiku,” Arthur whispers, the horror not yet worn off, “Kiku, get out of here.”
“Where are we?” Kiku whispers, his voice tremulous and frightened.
“Kiku, you can’t stay here,” Arthur says, and pulls his hand away, “Go. Try to find a way out.”
(Arthur doesn’t see the dark shape just out of sight, hidden behind a hem of pine trees.)
“It’s like I’ve been here before,” Kiku whispers, a little breathless breathless, “It’s -” Kiku cuts off, coughs and clutches his chest. “I can’t breathe,” he wheezes out, “Why can’t I breathe?”
“Kiku, please -”
The dark shape moves fast, too fast, and Arthur can’t stop the blade headed right for -
“KIKU, WATCH OUT!”
The blade slides into Kiku’s chest with an easy thrust. Arthur nearly throws up when it comes out the other side, somehow mortified at the lack of blood. (Fairy blades are not meant to tear flesh, blood and bone asunder, he remembers in rough chunks.)
Kiku’s eyes go wider, if possible. He pitches forward, held in place by the sword, and his limbs flail askew.
“Ah….”
A dark-clad arm pulls the blade out. Kiku stumbles forward one step, slips, starts to tumble to the ground. Only then can Arthur move and speak again.
“KIKU!”
Arthur catches Kiku before he hits the ground, lowers them both so that he’s kneeling with Kiku’s head in his lap. His fingers touch Kiku’s neck, and just beneath the skin he feels a pulse.
He’s alive. Only just, but he’s alive, thank God -
Arthur blinks when the tip of the sword falls into his vision. Arthur sees red and whips his head up, eyes narrowed and blood boiling. He’s got a What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing, you bastard? for this guy on the tip of his tongue. Except it never gets out.
Gold bangs hang down into the man’s face. And his body goes numb with chill at the sight of a face he hasn’t seen for a year. He looks into those eyes, such a gentle blue, but it looks so wrong. He doesn’t want to believe it.
But he knows when Texas winks at him from underneath a black hood.
Arthur’s mouth goes dry.
“…Alfred.” He doesn’t hear so much as feel himself speak. His mind starts buzzing, loud and enough to cover up the sickly-sweet sound of this realm’s air. “Alfred…no, it’s-”
It is
Confusion yanks at his mind, which follows without hesitation. “Alfred, what the fuck are you doing Kiku’s your friend why are you -”
“My name isn’t Alfred.” The words are low and even. The voice sounds stone-cold and dead, and Arthur feels his indignation rise in spite of himself.
“What are you - it bloody well is, you git, now stop this and -”
He’s focused on Alfred’s dead eyes, so he doesn’t see Alfred’s arm lift. He has a second in which he sees the blade flash before Alfred’s arm swings down.
Arthur feels the tip of the blade slice across his throat. He gasps; air escapes him in little chokes as warmth seems to spurt from his body through his neck, leaving him numb and so very cold. It feels like life seeping through his neck, instead of blood.
Arthur fights down the panic lacing itself through his nerves.
“Al….” He can’t finish, his eyes growing heavy as his body starts to curl forward over Kiku’s body.
Red eyes remain unmoved. “My name isn’t Alfred,” he repeats in deadpan.
Arthur’s focus narrows to Alfred’s face and to what feeling his fingers still hold. He doesn’t see a white little flicker behind Alfred, just behind the branches. He doesn’t hear footsteps on the ground.
All he hears is Alfred’s voice, chilling and clear.
“My name,” Alfred lifts his arm again for a killing strike, “is Caliban.”
And Arthur’s eyelids slide shut, too heavy to stay open.
His body slumps over Kiku’s, and he waits for the slice that will sever his life from his body. It doesn’t come.
As darkness closes over him, Arthur hears a sharp wind whistle over his head, hears Alfred cry out from a distance.
Arthur feels something cool and gentle touch his throat.
“I’m afraid it has come to that, Arthur,” the man says.
Arthur passes out before he can properly react.
___
Endnotes: This one has been edited a bit from the kink meme version, with some added content at the beginning. I decided I want to give the impression that something’s been wrong with the Fairy Realm for a while now, give a bit more of a lead-in regarding to that.
Titania and Cobweb are from The Midsummer’s Night Dream, by Shakespeare.
Comments are always welcome. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy this.
Author/Artist: halflight007/lenarix_klinde (beta by konishii)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America/England, mentions of Greece/Japan
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Supernatural, Action/Adventure
Warnings: Language, mild crossover, violence in this chapter
Summary: On a crisp Halloween night, America disappears into the forests with no warning, and England will have to fight his way through a corrupted world to save him.
Disclaimer: Himayura-sensei lets me play with them as long as I clean ‘em off before I give them back. All other series mentioned are copyright their respective creators.
Author’s Notes: Thank you to everyone who has commented so far!
Prologue
___
Halloween, 2008
Arthur remembers.
He feels the hot taste of blood and sweat at the very back of his throat, feels the sharp bite of winter air against his face.
Even though he’s not moving at all, Arthur remembers and feels his limbs grow weighty with exhaustion as panic rises.
Arthur skids to a stop, turning his head, watching his breath billow from his mouth in gentle clouds. “Cobweb,” he cries, and hears Titania’s distress in his own voice. “Cobweb!”
No answer, except the whisper of winter wind through thick branches. Arthur swears and picks up his pace.
He can’t be far, Arthur thinks, as he sees Titania’s clearing up ahead, recognizing moonlight on her pond. He’s fine. Cobweb - Cobweb will be all right, he’s just -
Arthur shoves a branch aside, bursts into the clearing.
He skids to a stop, and the pain his toes feel through the snow’s chill falls dead.
Cobweb was always small, the smallest of his fairies; when he complained, Arthur would chuckle and hold out a palm. “You are also the only one who can fit in my hands still,” Arthur would tell him, and watch with tenderness as Cobweb broke into a very small smile.
Arthur walks around the frozen pond, cups his hand, and lifts Cobweb from the cold, snowy earth.
Arthur thinks about how small he looks in death, and how fragile. It takes him a moment to realize the drops of water on the mound of snow in his hands are from his tears, and not from freezing rain.
“Cobweb,” he murmurs, and bows his head. “Cobweb. No. Not you, too.”
Arthur recalls how it feels as his heart breaks again- not just for Titania, but for himself. He can’t protect any of them from the monster that descends softly and swiftly to rip their precious lives away. He can’t protect those that only he can see.
“So it’s happened here, as well.”
Arthur’s head snaps up, and he snarls, pulling Cobweb’s body to him. “Who are you?” he asks, scowling at the man-shaped shadow just out of reach. (Even then, there’s something funny about him - how even he seems to stand out in sharp definition against the landscape, as though he were real.)
“Just an observer for now,” the man says. “The tengu told me something was wrong. And they were right.”
“‘They’? Something’s off? What the bloody fuck are you talking about, man?” Arthur says. “Who are you?”
Why do you only show up when I remember this? Why weren’t you there when I found Cobweb? Why couldn’t you save him? he thinks, but for some reason the words lodge in his throat and won’t come out.
The man seems to ignore him, glancing around the clearing. “The rest of this place feels fine,” he says, “For now, anyway. I won’t have to interfere yet.”
The man turns and starts to walk away. Arthur feels anger burst out of his chest through his mouth.
“And what if you do?”
The man stops and turns his head. Even in the darkness, Arthur can feel the power of his gaze.
“I am praying that it does not come to that, Arthur Kirkland.”
___
“Arthur?”
Matthew shakes him awake. Arthur comes to and finds he has tear stains on his cheeks and a white-knuckled grip on the flashlight in his hand.
“Arthur, Francis and Kiku are ready to head in whenever you are.”
Arthur blinks for a few more seconds, gathering his wits from a sleep he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into. “I - I see. Right, then.” Arthur braces one hand against the tree behind him, curls a leg underneath him on the pine needle-carpeted ground and uses both to help himself up. He stretches, arching his back and groaning when it cracks.
That dream, he thinks, as blood rushes through his sleep-relaxed muscles. And that man. He frowns, his brow furrowing. He’s never seen him clearly. They never met at the clearing - only Titania and her entourage arrived later to see Arthur curled over Cobweb’s limp, frozen body. Only in dreams does he see the figure.
“Arthur….”
Arthur shakes his head, clearing it, and looks at Matthew, who has a strange expression on his face. “What is it?”
“I….” Matthew breaks off and drops his eyes to the ground. “I…I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here, especially considering what -”
“I have no idea what you’re on about.” Arthur walks past Matthew with swift, even strides, listening to the other sputter a moment before stumbling to catch up with him.
“I - I mean, it’s not healthy for you. Alfred’s been gone a year, I don’t think -”
“You’re a fool if you think this is about Alfred. I don’t miss the git at all - he up and left his entire Nation behind. Really, it’s a testament to his people that they’re able to hold each other together.”
Arthur keeps his words flat, clipped, and angry.
“Then what are you here for, Arthur?” Matthew takes two broad steps, whirls around, and comes face-to-face with Arthur. “Why are you coming back now, on the anniversary of Alfred’s disappearance?”
“Because the nephew of a dear friend of mine perished here some years ago,” he forces out through gritted teeth. “I come here as often as I can to pay my respects to him.”
Matthew blinks. “Oh. Oh, Arthur, I’m sorry, I -”
“Let’s go.” Arthur ducks his head and steps around Matthew. “I don’t want to keep Francis and Kiku waiting.”
“A-ah. Right. Let’s go, Kumajirou-chan.”
“Who are you…?”
Arthur shuts out Matthew’s whining and instead focuses on not running into the crowd around him.
He tells himself he wasn’t lying. He really did come to pay his respects to the dead. He tells himself that he came to remember and mourn a girl hundreds of years dead. That much is true.
Arthur sighs, lifts his head, and wonders if truth by omission is still a lie.
About halfway between maybe and no he sees something hiding in the boughs of a great fir. It’s the size of a three-year-old child, curled up and watching him through the needles.
Except Arthur’s pretty sure that children aren’t that pale.
And don’t have indigo irises…
And don’t have hair that blows in the wind even when there’s no breeze…
“Kirkland-san!”
Arthur’s head jerks to the side, and he sees Kiku and Francis trying to wave him over. He chooses to ignore them, turning his face back up to the fir -
- only to find that the child is gone.
“Arthur, I did not pay ten dollars to stand here all day!” Francis yells. “If you do not get over here right now, I will come to you and proceed to give you the best French kiss of your -”
“Sod off, I’m coming!” Arthur snaps, whirling around and stomping over to them. He sees Kiku lift an eyebrow at Francis, who only smirks and says something like, “Told you it would work,” but Arthur’s not sure because he doesn’t really care.
Neither does Kiku, it appears, who seems more interested in Arthur’s hands. “Um, Kirkland-san, I don’t think you need….”
Arthur blinks and looks down at his hands. The flashlight he’s holding refuses to work; it’s muddy, and the American flag decal is starting to wear off.
Arthur scowls at it before shoving it into the front pocket of his hoodie. “Let’s just get this bloody walk over with.”
“Erm, Arthur, we are forgetting someone, non?”
“Guys, waiiiiiiiiit!”
“Are we, Bonnefoy-san? …Yes, I do think we had another person with us.”
“Kumajirou, come on, they’re leaving without us!”
Arthur growls and ducks his head, starting to walk down the path. “I’m going on. You can stay if you want.”
There’s a pause before Arthur hears footsteps on the path behind him. He doesn’t really care, anyway. His focus is all on the path and on the trees around them.
His mind is far in the past, in a harbor bound for this very island.
“Arthur, are you sure you can’t come with us?”
“I’m sorry. There are things here that I need to do. I’ll visit someday, though.”
“…It’ll be awfully lonely without you reading to me at night.”
“How about this. While you’re gone, have your mother help you read a page of your Bible stories each night. And I’ll do that, too, over here - and when I come to see you, you can show me how much you’ve learned.”
“I can do that! I’ll be the best reader in the colony!”
“I have no doubt you will.”
And Arthur feels sick. His body and mind carry so much history, so many stories, that he can’t recall anything about the child. He can’t even see his face.
Yet somehow his mind can summon Alfred’s cocky smirk and blue eyes up perfectly fine. And it wasn’t fair that the stupid git’s face is so clear but the little girl he’d been so fond of was -
“Kirkland-san.”
Arthur blinks out of his frustration and looks up. Kiku’s hand is firm on his shoulder, and though his face is stoic as ever Arthur sees the sympathy lingering behind those brown eyes. Behind them, Arthur hears rapid, angry French.
“Kiku, you don’t have to call me that. Just call me Arthur.”
“Old habits die hard,” Kiku smiles, an apologetic upward flick of his mouth. “I just…I know how hard you took Alfred’s disappearance.”
Arthur snorts. “Are you bonkers? Blimey, did you not notice how quiet the meetings are now? An improvement, I say, quite capital. A-and it really is better without him blustering around, trying to be the hero and making everything worse.”
Kiku frowns. “But Kirkland-san, why did you want to come here to -”
“I’m not here because of Alfred. I’m here for someone else,” Arthur sighs. It’s not Kiku’s fault, he’s just getting tired of reliving the pain. “I think he was a nephew to a dear friend of mine. I think, it’s just…the details feel foggy. You know how it is.”
Kiku makes an understanding noise. “Yes. We are human and Nation at once - and that burden can make things hard to recall.”
“Right,” Arthur chuckles, closes his eyes, and tries to will Alfred’s face away. “I assure you, it has nothing to do with Alfred. Hell, the bastard’s probably still out here somewhere, just waiting to spring his Halloween joke on me -”
The angry French sounds behind him go from sharp to muffled and dimmed in an instant, and Arthur feels something coagulate in the pit of his stomach.
When Arthur opens his eyes and finds his world swathed in the colors of suset, he realizes that it’s dread.
“What the bloody….” But Arthur can’t finish his sentence.
He knows where he is. He’s walked through enough toadstools and looking glasses to know the feel of this world - a world close, yet parallel to theirs.
But that doesn’t answer what this place is.
This world is blighted, and the black trees with their knots and twists are crippled elders. Arthur can almost feel their cries of agony in the black specks that float and flit around the air. (One brushes his arm, and Arthur yelps as though he’s been burned; it’s sinister, and evil, and he doesn’t like it.)
There is a high, sweet, cruel sound that makes Arthur feel dizzy, and the scent of autumn leaves hangs about him like a heavy, oppressive cloak. It presses into his body and thrums through his bloodstream.
Arthur’s eyes flutter as he tries to fight it off (for it is not a good idea to sleep in the land of the Fey, as even the benevolent ones will try to keep mortals for their own). He lifts his heavy head, his thick eyebrows knit in defiance against this twilit, beautiful world.
He sees something very out of place.
A childlike fairy sits on one of the bare branches. It shines a bright white in this forest, and Arthur feels a gentle breeze blow around and past him. Arthur inhales and feels his mind clear.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me I don’t belong here, aren’t you?” he says to the fairy.
(“Kirkland-san? Kirkland-san, are you all right?”)
“No,” the creature says, and its quavering voice betrays a fear its face doesn’t show. “You’re expected. But I - I don’t know if he realizes what danger he’s putting you in -”
A dark shape moves towards Arthur, interrupting the fairy, and he can’t move as that dread shoots through his body and roots him to the path -
“Arthur!”
Arthur blinks again. Afternoon sun filers through the green pine needles, and Francis is about an inch away from his lips.
CRACK.
Arthur remedies that with his fist.
“The bloody hell were you trying to do to me, you bastard?!”
“Merde, Arthur, that was my nose! I was just trying to wake you up like le princes in those fairy tales you’re so fond of -”
“Well don’t,” Arthur huffs, snorting and turning away.
“It was Mattieu’s idea!”
“Oh no, don’t you dare try to pin this on me -”
Arthur sighs and looks up - right into Kiku’s face. Beneath the stoicism, Arthur can feel more than see his worry.
“What happened, Kirkland-san? One second we were talking, and the next you just…blacked out, it seemed like.”
“Did I.” Arthur doesn’t phrase it as a question.
“Francis was caressing your cheek and you didn’t even notice.”
“Thank you for making me feel dirty, Kiku,” Arthur grumbles, and starts down the path again. “You do realize I will need a scalding shower tonight, right?”
“Kirkland-san.” Kiku’s voice is a hand on his shoulder, turning Arthur around and clamping down so he can’t turn away. “Did you see something?”
Yes, Kiku, yes I did. I stumbled into a pocket of reality that shouldn’t be here in the first place, and said pocket is corrupted and warped beyond recognition.
Arthur wants to tell Kiku that. But Kiku’s time of understanding passed long ago, and Arthur’s all-too-familiar with the looks he’ll get if he says anything.
“It was nothing,” he says. He breaks his gaze with Kiku and turns around. “Come on. Let’s keep walking.”
_
When they reach the fork in the road that leads off to the lavatories, Arthur finds he can’t walk any further.
It’s not that he’s crying. It’s the nostalgia inside of him. He hasn’t realized that by ignoring it, he’s just letting it steep in his bones and wear him out.
He wonders if there’s any real way of avoiding guilt and the resulting regret. Then he doesn’t think about it anymore.
“Kirkland-san?”
Arthur lifts his head, but he doesn’t look at Kiku. His gaze fixes on the small path that bends into the trees and disappears towards the bathrooms.
“Last year, he waited right here for me,” he says, “The bloody git didn’t want to come with me when I took a bathroom break, so he just sat here when I went on.” Arthur feels himself deaden a little further as he bows his head. “When I came back, Alfred was gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Kiku murmurs, and his voice is soft and genuine. Arthur chooses to ignore it for now. His vision is narrowed on the path; his mind is focused on the chattering French approaching them from down the road.
“He dropped his flashlight,” he murmurs. He thumbs the flashlight in his front pocket. “Stupid bastard never went anywhere dark without his flashlight. Guess he wasn’t as scared of the dark as I thought.”
And he left me alone, he thinks. It always comes back to that.
You stupid git, you left me all alone.
He’s about to tell himself that it’s the winds that are causing him to tear up at the corner of his eyes, but the air goes still and dead. Arthur blinks and glances around.
Dread knots itself in the pit of his stomach again when he sees a pocket of golden light just beyond a close-knit group of trees.
“Kirkland-san?”
Arthur’s gaze breaks away for a moment and focuses on Kiku. “You can’t see it, can you, Kiku?” he murmurs.
“See what? …Kirkland-san, I think we should go.”
“No,” he says. One hand moves from his hoodie pouch and presses off the tree behind him. Arthur steps off the path and makes his way to the gate of trees in front of him and what they hold back.
If I leave now, he thinks, Kiku will not let me come back.
And I won’t be able to find out what’s wrong with this place.
“Kirkland-san, no,” Kiku’s hand grips his shoulder again, “I do not think you are in your right mind.”
“I guess that’s what it looks like to you,” Arthur says back, shaking off Kiku’s hand and continuing to move forward. He’s close now, close enough that he can reach out a hand and touch it, so he lifts one and stretches his fingers towards trees that look soft and blurred around the edges.
“Kirkland-san, that is enough!”
Arthur swears as Kiku grabs his wrist and tugs. He stretches his arm one last time and only just manages to touch the warped air with the tip of his middle finger.
But it does the trick.
The air swirls and surges through the cracks in the tree. It wraps around Arthur, suffocates him with sweet noise and sweet scents and warmth that’s just comfortable enough to sleep in.
When the feeling has passed, he opens his eyes and finds himself back in…whatever this place is. It’s almost the same as before.
But something is different. Arthur frowns and looks around. Yes, something has been added that wasn’t here before. He just can’t place a finger on -
“Kirkland-san.”
Arthur whirls around, his eyes growing wide, and nearly runs into someone standing behind him, someone who still has a grip on his wrist.
Kiku Honda stares at him with wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth. His paling skin stands out against this yellow world, and his grip slackens on Arthur’s wrist.
“Kiku,” Arthur whispers, the horror not yet worn off, “Kiku, get out of here.”
“Where are we?” Kiku whispers, his voice tremulous and frightened.
“Kiku, you can’t stay here,” Arthur says, and pulls his hand away, “Go. Try to find a way out.”
(Arthur doesn’t see the dark shape just out of sight, hidden behind a hem of pine trees.)
“It’s like I’ve been here before,” Kiku whispers, a little breathless breathless, “It’s -” Kiku cuts off, coughs and clutches his chest. “I can’t breathe,” he wheezes out, “Why can’t I breathe?”
“Kiku, please -”
The dark shape moves fast, too fast, and Arthur can’t stop the blade headed right for -
“KIKU, WATCH OUT!”
The blade slides into Kiku’s chest with an easy thrust. Arthur nearly throws up when it comes out the other side, somehow mortified at the lack of blood. (Fairy blades are not meant to tear flesh, blood and bone asunder, he remembers in rough chunks.)
Kiku’s eyes go wider, if possible. He pitches forward, held in place by the sword, and his limbs flail askew.
“Ah….”
A dark-clad arm pulls the blade out. Kiku stumbles forward one step, slips, starts to tumble to the ground. Only then can Arthur move and speak again.
“KIKU!”
Arthur catches Kiku before he hits the ground, lowers them both so that he’s kneeling with Kiku’s head in his lap. His fingers touch Kiku’s neck, and just beneath the skin he feels a pulse.
He’s alive. Only just, but he’s alive, thank God -
Arthur blinks when the tip of the sword falls into his vision. Arthur sees red and whips his head up, eyes narrowed and blood boiling. He’s got a What the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing, you bastard? for this guy on the tip of his tongue. Except it never gets out.
Gold bangs hang down into the man’s face. And his body goes numb with chill at the sight of a face he hasn’t seen for a year. He looks into those eyes, such a gentle blue, but it looks so wrong. He doesn’t want to believe it.
But he knows when Texas winks at him from underneath a black hood.
Arthur’s mouth goes dry.
“…Alfred.” He doesn’t hear so much as feel himself speak. His mind starts buzzing, loud and enough to cover up the sickly-sweet sound of this realm’s air. “Alfred…no, it’s-”
It is
Confusion yanks at his mind, which follows without hesitation. “Alfred, what the fuck are you doing Kiku’s your friend why are you -”
“My name isn’t Alfred.” The words are low and even. The voice sounds stone-cold and dead, and Arthur feels his indignation rise in spite of himself.
“What are you - it bloody well is, you git, now stop this and -”
He’s focused on Alfred’s dead eyes, so he doesn’t see Alfred’s arm lift. He has a second in which he sees the blade flash before Alfred’s arm swings down.
Arthur feels the tip of the blade slice across his throat. He gasps; air escapes him in little chokes as warmth seems to spurt from his body through his neck, leaving him numb and so very cold. It feels like life seeping through his neck, instead of blood.
Arthur fights down the panic lacing itself through his nerves.
“Al….” He can’t finish, his eyes growing heavy as his body starts to curl forward over Kiku’s body.
Red eyes remain unmoved. “My name isn’t Alfred,” he repeats in deadpan.
Arthur’s focus narrows to Alfred’s face and to what feeling his fingers still hold. He doesn’t see a white little flicker behind Alfred, just behind the branches. He doesn’t hear footsteps on the ground.
All he hears is Alfred’s voice, chilling and clear.
“My name,” Alfred lifts his arm again for a killing strike, “is Caliban.”
And Arthur’s eyelids slide shut, too heavy to stay open.
His body slumps over Kiku’s, and he waits for the slice that will sever his life from his body. It doesn’t come.
As darkness closes over him, Arthur hears a sharp wind whistle over his head, hears Alfred cry out from a distance.
Arthur feels something cool and gentle touch his throat.
“I’m afraid it has come to that, Arthur,” the man says.
Arthur passes out before he can properly react.
___
Endnotes: This one has been edited a bit from the kink meme version, with some added content at the beginning. I decided I want to give the impression that something’s been wrong with the Fairy Realm for a while now, give a bit more of a lead-in regarding to that.
Titania and Cobweb are from The Midsummer’s Night Dream, by Shakespeare.
Comments are always welcome. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy this.