AN: So, this is my first on-going Hetalia Fanfiction ... I've yet to conclude how many chapters there will be but I really do hope it will be satisfactory for you all! This is a Cardverse AU ... The Main character's personalities will be portrayed a bit differently ... Forgive me if you don't enjoy OOC-ness ... I hope you all enjoy my latest addition to the FF community! Reviews, critiques, and criticisms are heavily appreciated!
Title: The Land Where Butterflies Never Die
Description: A few sweet words, empty promises, and shattered dreams is all it takes to lure the Queen away. A night of passion, an ultimate betrayal ...
"See you again, in the place where the Sun never rises, my Queen."
Rating: NC-17 for mature audiences only.
Warnings: This fanfiction contains mentions of death, suicide, sex, homo-erotica, and contains moderate swearing. If you don't approve of any of the following, I suggest you turn around now.
Fandom: Hetalia - Axis Powers
Pairings: Ameripan, and implied GerIta.
"You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you."
― C.S. Lewis
The Land Where Butterflies Never Die
Chapter One: Queen of Hearts
It was often like this, Kiku realized with a start of anxiety; how their nights always beheld such monotony, such desperation, such vies ... It hadn't always been like this- in the very beginning the oriental pearl had made fervent attempts to win the affection of his King, and had tried just as hard to feel affection toward his King. The beginning months had been exciting, though quite incredibly lacking in passion and burning romance; they had touched, they had consummated ... But neither of them had felt that minute tremble of bliss one received when gently caressed by their source of affection; never had their bodies quivered in anticipation or yearned the way newlyweds should ... They had always been void ... Every kiss, every touch, every word ... Void ... So they had simply stopped trying all together, and they went their separate ways once and for all-
No, neither felt desire to break apart their ties; marriage, oath, and Kingdom still bound the two together heartily, however ... Their mannerisms; their affairs; their whereabouts ... Were no longer a concern. And they simply never would be, again.
And so Kiku watched, brown eyes bleary and dark, as his King fondled his newest toy, a young Jack by the name of Feliciano, once a slave rued and resented by their demanding King, turned to Royalty as his affections grew ... And the Asian man wasn't sure what he felt inside of his chest- jealousy? rage? pity? ... Or perhaps plain apathy? ... Deep within his beating chambers, something stirred, though unplaceable and vague at best. And every whimper, every growl, every light titter fleeing that Italian bastard's lips made that feeling grow and grow, 'til his heart was filled with a dull ache and his throat filled with bile.
No, Kiku did not love King Beilschmidt.
But that did not mean he was lacking in feeling, nor emotionless at heart, nor unable to grow jealous or vengeful or full of spite.
The Honda heir's eyelashes trembled as he cast his eyes upon the ground, tension growing within the pit of his stomach; his delicate and shamisen-trained fingers grasped at the fabric of his silken kimono, and he fought back years worth of unshed tears that dared bubble forth. Nudging the door closed, Kiku decided quite readily that he was simply unable to view any more of such lewd and brazen encounters, nor could he bear to hear their voices so full of wanton. And thus, he descended briskly through the foyer, scrubbing very brown eyes to keep his tears at bay, nearly tripping over his steps.
The two Royals had married, not out of love, but simply out of Political desire. Prince Ludwig Beilschmidt of Germany, second in line for the throne but granted lead as his elder brother was shamed and ridiculed, and Honda-no-Kiku-Oujisama of Japan had been thrust into such a position by their Governments, both holding desire for a powerful foreign alliance and, since there was no female heir to the Honda name, Kiku was chosen to act in place of a Queen, much to his blunder. And thus the two were wed, King and Queen reigning side by side in the fair and beauteous land of the Germanic Nomads ... Strong and mighty ... Unstoppable ... Unimpassioned ...
Kiku was known as the "Queen of Hearts", for many, whom had never once seen a person of oriental descent, much less someone who spoke fluent another language, often called him anything but lustrous or romantic names, enthralled by his foreign appearance and young, delicate beauty.
It was a jest, the Asian was sure.
To be called a Queen of "Hearts" would require one to have a heart ... Kiku was most certain he had not a heart; he felt, in his chest, a festering of apathy and silent anger, and not a single ounce of love or passion towards even the most innocent body ... He had no heart and knew good and well that he would never fall in love, or likely even smile, ever again.
He rubbed attentively at his watering eyes once more, wiping away the liquid crystal that dared rebel and seep through, and the delicacy stumbled over his feet once more as he hurried to gain distance between Ludwig and his night-time lover, falling forward with a gasp of start, squeezing his large eyes shut in anticipation for when he made contact with the naked ground-
And it never came. Rather, something had been wrapped securely and snugly around his thin, lean torso, halting him in his descent- or rather not something, but someone.
"You really must watch your step, Your Grace. That might well have been a terribly nasty fall."
Kiku's breath hitched in his throat at the sound of a voice from behind - a very unfamiliar one ... He knew that Royals from another country were staying at the palace on political business, but never once had he expected any of them to be awake at such an hour. It was well into the morning hours, Kiku was sure!
The Oriental elegance turned around in the person's grasp, looking the stranger in the eyes, albeit a bit coyly.
"H-Hai?" He was met with a pair of alluring cobalt irises; eyes much like Ludwig's, but rather quite full of humor and vivacious life- human eyes; eyes that stared at him with purpose ... Eyes that made his heart patter in his chest, and allowed his cheeks to dye light pink. Adorned in nothing but Night-clothes and a Dressing Gown, the aris appeared as if he were an ordinary Working man, fine golden hair tousled with sleep, and thin-framed glasses accessorizing his features of porcelain ... But alas, Kiku recognized him from earlier in the day ... He was the King of his land (what was it called again?), a Hero among Heros, or so it was said.
He also had a nickname of his own.
The King of Spade ...
Honda's eyes fluttered shyly towards the ground, studying with sudden great interest at his feet, which were bare and bland, small and dainty ... And then his gaze flickered towards the Foreign King once more, very bashfully.
"Pardon me, Your Majesty ..."
Kiku's mumbles were delicate and quiet, cultured and eloquent.
"Thank you very much, for rescuing me from my fall; indeed, it might aught have been ... Dreadful."
The King stared at him with very amused cobalt eyes. "Yes ... Of course, we would not want such a beautiful face to become scarred, would we?" He laughed quietly as his gaze beheld reddening cheeks and sheepish, timid chocolate eyes. And with such a reply, he held out his arm towards the Queen, silently prodding him to take it, and as if to confirm his desire, he parted his jaws to speak properly, a dubiousness lacing his voice of baritone: "Please, let me escort His Grace to his destination. We wouldn't desire such an occurrence again, would we?"
With quite a bit of bashfulness, Kiku wrapped his small hands around the width of the King's arm, surprised by how strong and hard they were- Kiku was a twig in comparison; the King must have taken care of himself well. "My destination ... Are the gardens out back ..." Though he'd no idea of where he desired to go initially, he quickly made something up on the spot- there was no need to inconvenience this man, when he went out of his way to be polite. And anyways: the Royal quite found that he wasn't ready to part from the delicate and pristine face just yet; it was tantalizing to gawk at, and it sent his blood rushing through his veins. Such a person ... Was captivating and sugary to the eyes.
And so they walked, allowing for littler chatter on the sides. The King had revealed his name, King Alfred Franklin Jones of a land whose name still continued to escape Kiku, no matter how terribly hard he attempted to remember it, nor how many times he'd heard it spoken. It was a strange, foreign-sounding name in which Kiku had never once heard in the past. Alfred had also gone on to explain that his late-night exploration had merely been in search of a bit of company ("It is lonely at night when it's just myself" he had said, expressing the will of a young child who needed the companionship of another person in his bed), and had merely stumbled by chance upon the descending angel, and it was a good thing he had, Alfred stated once more. And as they progressed, Kiku said little to nothing in return, quite happy to listen to the King ramble, who appeared just as satisfied to be heard.
As their forms stepped into the milky moonlight, ground cast ivory in its essence, Kiku could not quail the sigh of utter relief that passed by his lips as the cool night air enveloped his skin, and the song of crickets and frogs tolled in his ears. Alfred noticed this, and a gentle smirk dared pull the edge of his lips upwards. It appeared as if the concept of "ruining the moment" completely escaped the blonde Royal, and he spoke, rudely interrupting his companion's dream-like state.
"You really must enjoy the nature; it is an affiliate I adore, more-so because it is you who beholds it."
Such sweet language ... It was alien to the ears. However, a reply was eloquently mumbled.
"Hai, Jones-sama. I have always enjoyed nature, ever since I was a young child. The Maids would often catch me out by the streams, bathing with the fish like a peasant," At such a personal statement, his cheeks grew pink, "I gave them quite a bit of trouble." He cast a glance upwards at the other male, his eyes lingering upon the soft quality of his skin; the distant, ghostly hue of his eyes ... Bathed in the velvety caress of the moonlight, he appeared beautiful as a siren, if not more so ... It was increasingly difficult to take his eyes off of the King, Kiku noticed. He was such an exotic beauty: though his appearance lay akin to that of a European fellow, it was distinctly different; his eyes were sharper, and his jaw-line chiseled, yet it held the quaint affinity of a child's cheeks; his shoulders were broad and strong, yet his waist startlingly slender and modest ... "A sight for sore eyes", as many would say.
He traveled along through the garden, silken kimono trailing delicately behind him, supplying the illusion of the fluttering wings of a butterfly; shy and graceful, just as this being was. Despite his surprising incoordination earlier in the eve, he was actually quite balletic in act, from every sweep or the arm, to every step, was dexterous and agile as a feline. He appeared as a phantom among the endless array of lilies and moonlight, sweeping through the endless multitude of flowers and vegetation, his already pasty skin cast white in the luminescence of the night, and his hair acquiring a glossy sheen, dancing and sparkling as the white fire reflected off of the raven strands. He appeared at dance, weaving amongst the thriving petals as if he were at home for the first time in ages, and a look of jubilee lit up his features.
Perhaps he was at home for the first time in ages.
Two decades and six summers had passed since Kiku had seen the fair lands of Japan, and he was positive many more would come to pass before that chance ever dared show its beautiful face.
And this garden was cultivated by him, for him, in the prospect of his fair, fair home- lilies littered the ponds and banks; Lotus Blossoms bloomed in regal grace amongst them- cherry and maple trees (Sakura and Momiji, as he called them), cast their shadows along the ground, and yet there were too, poppies and freesias, orchids and lavender ... Such a dazzling array; such refined beauty ... Lightening-bugs doused the vegetation in their warm, inviting yellow lights, giving the appearance akin to that of a story-book tale ... And among them all, rest a single chrysanthemum, tended to specifically by Kiku himself, and it thrived, oh, how it thrived! Beautiful orange petals stretched like the web of a spider, catching every bit of moisture as it fell, and creating for such a lucid, and almost lonely atmosphere ...
Upon being questioned of its sole presence, (after all, why plant only one beautiful flower when you could have dozens?), Kiku turned to look at him, a delicate, sad look gracing his doll-like features. "My name beholds the meaning of chrysanthemum in my Native tongue," He turned his attention back to the flower, long and instrument-trained fingers tracing the delicate outline of its petals. "... And it was planted here as a reminder ..." He said nothing more about the plant, feeling quite readily that anything more was far too personal, and Alfred allowed it to remain as such. If he desired not to disclose such things, then so be it.
And thus they sat atop a stone bench-face, cold as ice to the touch, watching as the moon waned in the sky, lowering and lowering, hovering amongst the black abyss of nighttime, surrounded by dancing, twinkling flames, each painting a picture in the wind like the most kindred of portraits on canvas.
A cool, welcoming spring breeze mumbled by, bringing with it promises of prosperous life and rejoice ... Such a humble beauty, Kiku thought, lips parting minutely as a delicate sigh slipped by fragile lips, and as the winds picked up tresses of his silken locks of hair, and along with it the fabric of his kimono, tailored perfectly to his slender body. He felt light, almost ghostly, sitting next to the other Royal, in a way they he had not in a long time- he felt something festering at the edge of his mind, making haste in an attempt to brake, yet wires held it at bay. It were as if something were reminiscent about such a quaint moment, yet his mind dared not bring solace.
Quietly, quietly, he edged closer to Alfred, resting his petite body against his arm- his eyelids were growing heavy, and heart growing wary. He was about to fall into slumber, when the rumbling of Alfred's harmonious voice stirred him and startled him.
"Do you truly love His Majesty?"
Kiku turned his gaze somberly towards the blonde, expression startled and quite certainly taken-aback. What an awful question to ask so suddenly!
"Because it does not seem that way, to me."
The Queen of Hearts was brought to silence at that, gazing upwards at the golden-skinned God, eyes wide with bewilder, and cheeks beaten red with humility; fuming on the inside, but remaining quite cool and collected on the outside, he merely held onto Alfred's steady scrutiny with a glare of his own, blue meeting brown in an eternal rondo for dominance. Neither were inclined to look away, because looking away meant that there was a victor- neither felt desire to allow the other the thrill of winning. And so they remained hard and steady.
"What a bold statement to make, Jones-sama! How did you come to such a conclusion? Please enlighten me!" His voice, though laced with sleep only seconds earlier, ebbed with the heated passion of solemn fury. "For reasons unknown even to me, you claim I do not love my King; you, who knows not of hither nor thither, dares to make such a jest! How cruel, how inappropriate, how-"
He was silenced.
Not by words, nor by a place of the fingers, nor even a gesture or an alien noise, but by a kiss. A kiss so gentle; so delicate, that it aught not be considered such a thing- rose petals falling to the ground caressed amongst the grass- it was so brief and so fleeting, that it lasted not a heartbeat, yet failed not in bringing Kiku to peace. And in his new-found advantage, Alfred spoke once more, his voice low and embroidered with a knowing reminder.
"I have noticed the way you gaze upon each other, as if complete strangers; you spend your good time apart, and frankly, why else would His Grace be wandering the halls in a tizzy, if not for the fact that His Majesty were not in his favor?"
Alfred was strangely perceptive- Kiku had not expected such a thing.
"But ... Why did Jones-sama kiss me?"
And with such an innocent question, a smile, dubious in nature, pulled Alfred's lips upwards in a gentle slope.
"I merely desired to sample; to see if you tasted as I remembered. I need not say that I was displeased."
"R-Remembered? Blasphemy! Never once had we-!" And Alfred kissed him once more, this time, with a bit more fervor; a bit more effort, nipping away playfully at Kiku's lower lip, and sucking upon the plump bud. Once he retracted once more, the King of Spade stood, bowing low at the waist. "It grows late. I'm afraid I must take my leave, Your Grace." He bowed once more, teeth peeking past his lips, glimmering white in the moonlight. "Sleep well." Before Kiku had time to respond, the beauty was already well on his way to the palace, every step graceful and pristine- measured well ...
And despite the buzzing in Kiku's head, he felt a queer nausea and coiling in his lower-stomach that he had not felt in such a long time- oh, something about that dear pain-in-the-ass King was tantalizingto behold, however inappropriate ... And with delicate fingers, he reached up, brushing his lips with a careful touch, a shiver immediately rolling down his spine- something about that man, yes, it reminded him of home; of comfort; of desire ... Oh, sheer passion! He could not choke down the wanton murmur that ebbed past his beautiful lips. If he saw him now, Kiku knew, that Alfred would be amused- very amused indeed- gazing upon his form with very cynical, very beautiful, and very blue eyes.
He wanted to see them again.
And perhaps, he desired to know Alfred's reasoning of the kiss- something so precious and so private, explained with deceit ...
But perhaps most of all, he desired to feel those tactful lips another time ...
And over again.