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Post by Sadiq Adnan on Nov 25, 2011 3:54:19 GMT -5
Not finished yet. This is a story that I thought as to be one of the many ways HRE could have became Germany. I hope you like what I have so far. Please tell me if I have made a mistake or anything of the like. I know some of the characters are a bit ooc, if you have an idea how to make them more ic, please let me know.
He was going to die.
It shouldn’t have been like this. He was fighting the Holy Roman Empire, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, he was just trying to get Holy Rome to surrender.
France watched as Holy Rome failed to block his sword and time seemed to slow down as it disappeared through Holy Rome’s chest.
Holy Rome fell to his hands and knees, breaths coming in short gasps as blood seeped out from the wound in his back, turning his already dark cloak a deeper shade of black. His eyes were dulling as the seconds went by and his hair was out of its normal style.
Dropping to his knees, Frances pulled the injured nation to him and attempted to stop the bleeding. He knew it was a useless endeavor with the wound going from his chest to back.
The sword that had pierced the nation now lay under him, dyed crimson red as if to mock them both.
“Hold on Holy Rome, I’m going to get you some help. Think of Italy and hold on.”
Carefully lifting the smaller nation, he quickly made his way across the battlefield, not caring that blood was staining his uniform.
“England, England, he needs your help!”
France had to stop suddenly as he found a sword in his face. Following the line of the sword, he found a very angry England on the other side.
“What did you do to him?” England sneered at the blond Frenchman.
“It was an accident. He didn’t block a stroke that he should have. Please save him. Not for myself, but for a small nation that is in love with him.”
Sighing, England sheathed his sword and reached out for the slowly dying nation. “Give him to me and go get Prussia. You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself, you bloody frog.”
As France rushed off to get the red eyed Nation, England laid Holy Rome down and tried to stanch the bleeding as best as he could. He needed Prussia there to help save the Nation, but he could prepare without him. Closing his eyes, he gathered his magic around him, and in turn, summoned his familiar.
“You called for me England?”
Opening his eyes, England smiled sadly at Flying Mint Bunny.
“Yes I did. What would the cost be to save the life of this young nation?” England looked down at Holy Rome, worry growing when he noticed that his breath was growing shallower and his eyes were growing duller.
Mint bunny flew lower and looked at Holy Rome closely. Shaking his head, he flew back up to England and explained what was going on.
“The cost would be high England. To save him would cost him his memories of being the Holy Roman Empire, and he would need to be bound to another Nation until he can get a Nation of his own again.”
Frowning, England was about to respond to Mint bunny when he hear a ruckus coming his way. He knew it had to be Prussia, that man felt the need to announce when he was in the vicinity, whether anyone cared or not. Arriving on the scene, England had to laugh at France. It appeared that Prussia didn’t take France’s sudden appearance as well as England did. France had a bloody lip, an eye that was turning black, and multiple bleeding cuts and was walking with a limp.
Cocking an eyebrow, England decided he didn’t want to know. Well, he kind of did want to know how France stopped Prussia from killing him since he nearly killed Prussia, but there was no time to ask.
“What do you want with the Awesome me? I was busy… Holy Rome!!”
Rushing over to his brother’s side, he dropped to his knees and pulled him into his arms.
“I can save him Prussia, but it will be at great cost to him. He would need to give up his memories of being Holy Rome, and I would need to bind him to another Nation until he has a Nation again.”
Nodding in understanding, Prussia held out his arm, knowing how the binding process worked.
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Post by Sadiq Adnan on Nov 25, 2011 3:54:47 GMT -5
I'll re-post it when I finish it.
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Post by Emily Jones on Nov 25, 2011 8:19:31 GMT -5
What you have sounds good, I definitely want to see more of this.
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Post by Carina Jones on Nov 26, 2011 11:49:18 GMT -5
This is good so far. ^-^
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Post by ludwig on Nov 29, 2011 2:43:32 GMT -5
It's really good. Not as I had done it myself contentswise, but possible and interesting. I admit that I find it surprising how fast England agrees to help. France and him were deadly enemies at that time and England didn't get along with the HRE too well either (even though their relationship wasn't as bad as with France, I guess). But other than that I am very impressed and curious what will come next. :3
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Post by Sadiq Adnan on Dec 16, 2011 19:21:04 GMT -5
Well, here's all of it. Please let me know if anyone is out of character or events aren't clear. I think I have prussia out of character. Anyway, please let me know what you think.
He was going to die.
It shouldn’t have been like this. He was fighting the Holy Roman Empire, but he wasn’t trying to kill him, he was just trying to get Holy Rome to surrender. France watched as Holy Rome failed to block his sword and time seemed to slow down as it disappeared through Holy Rome’s chest.
Falling to his hands and knees, Holy Rome’s breaths were coming in short gasps as blood seeped out from the wound in his back, turning his already dark cloak a deeper shade of black. His eyes were dulling as the seconds went by and his hair was out of its normal style.
Dropping to his knees, France pulled the injured nation to him and attempted to stop the bleeding. He knew it was a useless endeavor with the wound going from his chest to back. The sword that had pierced the nation now lay under him, dyed a crimson red as if to mock them both.
“Hold on Holy Rome, I’m going to get you some help. Think of Italia and hold on.”
Carefully lifting the smaller nation, he quickly made his way across the battlefield, not caring that blood was staining his uniform. The fighting continued around them, but he seemed unaware of it.
“England, England, he needs your help!”
France stopped in his tracks when he found a sword point in his face. Following the gleaming metal of the sword, he found a very angry England on the other side.
“What did you do to him?” England sneered at the blond Frenchman.
“It was an accident. He didn’t block a stroke that he should have. Please save him. Not for myself, but for a small nation that is in love with him.”
Glaring harder, England shrugged. “Young love or not, it’s still not my problem. Why should I waste my energy just so you can have a clean conscious?”
France was starting to despair. He couldn’t let the young nation die because of a misplaced sword stroke. He looked down at Holy Rome and thought of how young he was; he was barely beginning as a nation. “What if it was Alfred; would you say not my problem then?” England looked at the child nation and turned away. “That won’t work France; I know what you are trying to do, it would have been better if America was never in my life. I will not save him just because he looks like America. As far as I’m concerned, his death is on your hands, not mine. France held the smaller nation close to him, feeling his heartbeat faltering against his own chest.
“You want me to beg, fine I’ll beg, please save this child. I know he means nothing to you, but does this child not deserve a chance to grow, does any child not deserve a chance to grown? Arthur…please…he’s running out of time.”
Still glaring, he hesitated. Sighing, England sheathed his sword slowly and reached out for the slowly dying nation. “Give him to me and go get Prussia. You’re lucky I don’t run you through myself, you bloody frog.” As France rushed off to get the red eyed Nation, England laid Holy Rome down and tried to stanch the bleeding as best as he could. He needed Prussia there to help save the Nation, but he could prepare without him. Closing his eyes, he gathered his magic around him, and in turn, summoned his familiar.
“You called England?”
Opening his eyes, England smiled sadly at Flying Mint Bunny.
“Yes I did. What would the cost be to save the life of this young nation?” England looked down at Holy Rome, worry growing when he noticed that his breath was growing shallower and his eyes were growing duller.
Mint bunny flew lower and looked at Holy Rome closely. Shaking his head, he flew back up to England and explained what was going on.
“The cost would be high England. To save him would cost him his memories of being the Holy Roman Empire, and he would need to be bound to another Nation until he can get a Nation of his own again.”
Frowning, England was about to respond to Mint bunny when he hear a ruckus coming his way. He knew it had to be Prussia; that man felt the need to announce when he was in the vicinity, whether anyone cared or not. Arriving on the scene, England had to laugh at France. It appeared that Prussia didn’t take France’s sudden appearance as well as England did. France had a bloody, fat lip, an eye that was turning black, and multiple bleeding cuts and was walking with a limp.
Cocking an eyebrow, England decided he didn’t want to know. Well, he kind of did want to know how France stopped Prussia from killing him since he nearly killed Prussia himself.
“What do you want with the Awesome me? I was in the middle of…” His eyes fell on the Nation lying on the ground in front of England. “Holy Rome!!”
Rushing over to his brother’s side, he dropped to his knees and pulled him into his arms.
“I can save him Prussia, but it will be at great cost to him. He would need to give up his memories of being Holy Rome, and I would need to bind him to another Nation until he has a Nation again.”
Nodding in understanding, Prussia held out his arm, knowing how the binding process worked. Reaching down, England fingered Prussia’s Iron Cross before moving his hand away and started drawing a figure on the ground.
“I know how much you cherish that Iron Cross of yours; do you have another one on you?” Prussia narrowed his eyes at England’s question, but he nodded before withdrawing his arm and reached into a pocket and brought out another Iron Cross. Taking the cross from Prussia, he placed an empty vile in his hand.
“Mix your blood and his in that vile, this is the fastest binding spell I know. Once you’re done with that, I’ll need to see your Iron Cross also.”
As England did whatever he needed to do with the extra Iron Cross, Prussia shifted Holy Rome so he was lying against his left side, leaving Prussia’s right hand free. Sticking the vial in his mouth, he reached down and grabbed the dagger in his boot. Shifting Holy Rome a bit more, he brought his left hand up and made a slash across his palm, deep enough for the blood to start welling and it wouldn’t heal quickly. Putting his knife on the ground next to him, he shifted the vial in his mouth so the stopper was between his teeth. He pulled the stopper out of the vial and held it under the slash, pushing it into the skin slightly as to force the blood into the vial.
Once he had deemed he had enough of his blood in the vial, he moved it to the open wound on his brother’s chest and laid the vial under the wound. Pushing slightly on his younger brother‘s wound, Prussia flinched when he heard a slight whimper from below him.
“Es tut mir leid Bruder.”
Once the vial had an equal mixture of both brothers‘ blood, he caped it and sighed as he took off his own Iron Cross. “Here England, do what you must; I cannot lose an awesome brother.”
Taking back the vial and Prussia’s Iron cross, he quickly sketched out the needed rune on the Nation’s Iron cross. Muttering over the vial, he uncapped it and pulled a dagger out of his boot and trickled the blood over the dagger. Using the dagger, he traced the rune in with the mixed blood. He quickly repeated the same actions with the second Iron cross.
Once the blood runes were on both crosses, the muttering changed and the winds picked up. England’s eyes started to glow. The sounds of the swords ringing around them became silent and all was silent, not even a breath could be heard. Suddenly a bright light shone from both of the crosses and the runes disappeared, leaving the crosses appearing how they were before. All the sounds returned and the winds died down. The glow left England’s eyes and he handed back the Iron crosses to Prussia, along with the left over blood in the vile.
“Put them on and never take them off. Keep them and the vial safe. If anyone gets a hold of the vial, they can affect the spell.”
Nodding in understanding, Prussia whispered and old prayer to his brother as he placed the Iron Cross around his brother’s neck, and then his around his own. Once both crosses had touched skin, a soft light enveloped the two for a few moments before vanishing. Right before his eyes, Prussia watched the wounds on Holy Rome slowly start to heal, before vanishing all together. England cleaned his dagger then walked off; satisfied that he had done all that he could do. All that he could do now was to return to the fighting. Prussia watched England go, happy that he still had his brother. Picking up Holy Rome, he started walking back to his place, trying to think of the things he needed to reteach his brother.
Looking down, he saw that his brother was regaining his color and his breathing was evening back out to normal. Prussia held him closer, not wanting anything to take his brother from him. He started talking to his brother, knowing that he couldn’t hear him.
“Well, I can’t call you Holy Rome anymore, and you don’t have a Nation anymore to call you by, I guess I have to give you an awesome new name until then. I’ll call you Ludwig, that’s an awesome name.” After walking for a while, they finally arrived at Prussia’s house. Walking inside, he took his brother to one of the guest rooms and tucked him into bed. Halfway out the door, Prussia turned around and smiled slightly.
“Welcome to your awesome home Ludwig.”
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Post by Carina Jones on Dec 16, 2011 19:41:19 GMT -5
Awwww. I really like this, especially the end.
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Post by Emily Jones on Dec 16, 2011 19:42:20 GMT -5
Oh wow... *likes muchly*
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Post by Angelica Vargas-Jones on Dec 16, 2011 22:38:01 GMT -5
O.O Silv, this was awesome! I love the ending best. Tell me, is there more? Like another chapter?
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Post by Sadiq Adnan on Dec 16, 2011 22:39:52 GMT -5
I probably could make a sequal, though if I did it might focus on the dissolution of Prussia and why Gilbert is still alive stuff. I would have to think about it though.
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Post by Elena Jones on Dec 16, 2011 22:40:57 GMT -5
That would be cool! I bet you could. *puppy-dog eyes* pwease Silv.
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Post by Feliciano Vargas on Dec 17, 2011 23:26:18 GMT -5
Interesting, interesting indeed. *nods* I really like this. The ritual was definitely interesting, but I could see that, if you wanted to tinker some more, maybe go into a bit more detail about what shapes he was drawing, a few images of the scenery as things went down, and other little things like that. But that's just me being 'nit-picky' in a sense. This is a really good story and I like it very much. And don't worry about Gilbert supposedly being OOC, because I think he was quite in character considering the situation. *nods* Very very nice job.
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Post by Sadiq Adnan on Dec 17, 2011 23:35:14 GMT -5
Its just a first draft, I'll think of adding some of those things. Thanks!!
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Post by josephseidl on Dec 21, 2011 8:30:52 GMT -5
That's a very interesting idea for a fanfiction, I can only repeat what I wrote earlier. *nods* How you described everything, like the ritual, was understandable and interesting. Just one question, are Ludwig and Gilbert forced to carry the crosses forever, or just until Ludwig is strong enough to live on his own again? *scratches head* The end was really very cute. Awesome! :3
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