It was warm.

A field of grass rippled like water as the wind blew by. Golden blades swaying gently. Flowers bloomed and waved gently, bees and hoverflies landing on the colourful petals and enjoying the comforting sunlight. Poppies, cornflower, knapweed, agrimonia and marigold growing everywhere.
And so it went on and on.
The hills of grass that rolled over and over and into the distance, full of golds and greens and the colours that were dragged on by lawless flowers that bowed down to nothing. Where butterflies and insects grew and fluttered about.

A flock of sparrows flew through the blue sky. Bounding around through the air with beating wings as they sang to each other, gliding into the edge of the forests and lines of shrubs and brambles. Amongst the glowing blackberries and wild raspberries that shone from where they sat upon the branches and thorns. And even clumps of tall foxgloves grew with the grass and moss. Pink and purple flowers splattered with white.

It seemed like a dream.
Felt like a dream. Another world.
Something so different compared to the cruel and hard laws of reality.

Laughter filled the air. Innocent little giggles and squeals of joy echoing across the wild and rolling hills.

Two children bounded through the tall grass and through the meandering paths that had already been flattened out through the fields. Sprinting and stumbling past the flowers and insects which scattered at their small feet.
Hair messy and freckles splattered over their chubby cheeks, eyes bright and wide with happiness and so many other wonderful things that couldn't be named.

The two wore loose white short-sleeved shirts which bounced on their shoulders as they moved, loose baggy brown pants around their short legs and finished off with small little boots.
A brown belt wrapped around their waists and holding the rest of their outfits together-
One of the two wore a bandanna around their neck. Splotched with gold, blues, whites and reds. Matching the flag on their face and their bright blue eyes, contrasting to the bright green eyes of the other child who grinned- a bit older in age and taller.
And yet, despite their differences in age, they had a strong and emphatic bond that held them tightly together.

The blue-eyed child leapt into the grass, followed by his sibling who laughed and leapt in, landing beside him and grinning with excitement. Rolling around in the grass and watching with gasps as grasshoppers and butterflies burst from the growth, jumping and fluttering away with speed into the undergrowth.

Eventually, the two calmed down, and they stared up at the sky. Smiling and watching the massive white clouds float slowly through the blue sky. Watching as the sun shone through them and warmed their skin.
Listening to the sound of the grass swaying around, the distant singing of the birds in the sky and the nearby forest.

"What can you see?" The blue-eyed boy mumbled as he pointed towards the clouds with a hand, flopping it back down onto his chest.
The other tilted his head and squinted his eyes, humming and chewing on his lip, looking at all the clouds that went by. And once he had spotted one, he squealed and pointed, "Oh oh!!! That one!"He exclaimed, his companion trying to find the one he was pointing at.
"That one looks likeeee... a horse!" A dorky grin appeared across his freckled face, dimples appearing.

"Noo, it looks like a fish," the blue-eyed boy said with a huff, sitting up and looking around with a smile. Still happy and energetic as he had been before.

They ended up talking in the field for hours, giggling and laughing at the little remarks and jokes the other would make, nevertheless childish and innocent. And when they grew bored and had nothing else to talk about, they'd poke and prod at each other before scrambling to their feet clumsily and sprinting into the fields of gold.

All the colours.
All the shapes and shards of space.

All of them began to turn and merge into each other like a river. Winding together and running away.
The two children faded away into the grass along with everything else that surrounded them, giggles and laughter echoing and quieting into silence. Light shimmering and dying until it was no longer present.

Until there was nothing but black.

•·················•·················•

His room was cold. As was everything else in his life.

The wood and the stone was dead, the curtains blank, the floors dark.
The blankets weren't warm to him. Just piles and piles of useless sheets of fabric and materials which did nothing to help him nor comfort him.
Even when he dragged himself out of bed and over to the windows. Even when he drowsily yanked back the curtains with strong hands to let the light shine in.

It was still cold.
And it seemed like even the light, the pure sunshine, was blank and dull and meaningless.
So empty.

He was a lonely Prince. A lonely boy who had had his happiness ripped away from him in all possible ways. Who had lost the person who had made him really smile. Who he used to run after when he was a child in the fields of gold, green and poppies.
All those wonderful thoughts and memories...
Plagued with nothing but the harsh realities of war, training, violence and the seemingly infinite standards he had to live up to.

His life was filled with nothing but deceit; the manipulation that was thrown down on him and the power that people had over him.
A frown curled across his face, staring out towards the stone walls, the guards and soldiers who marched and lingered about with stone-cold grimaces, armed to the teeth and blinded by nothing but the relentless thirst for innocent blood.

He turned and stretched his arms, wincing at the aching of his muscles and joints before he grabbed his uniform from his desk. Fidgeting and prodding at the material with no emotion, eventually bringing himself to get changed for another day of training and mediocrity.
Pulling on his shirt and making sure to tuck it into his pants, adjusting the sleeves as he stepped in front of the mirror, then yanking on his navy blue blazer and doing up a couple of silver buttons that matched the silver bands on his shoulders.

Then came the belts and hoops which he tightened around his waist and thighs, wincing as he pulled at the ends until he was comfortable.
And once he had got on his black boots and done up the lace. He grabbed his two favourite parts of his outfit.
A jacket that harmonised with the colours of his flag and the blazer he wore. The collar was a lot larger; pointing out in front of him with the tips covered in gold and silver, golden buckles clasped over his chest. Finished off with his crimson-red cloak which swayed and creased ever so slightly at every movement. Clipping upon his shoulders with a few extra pieces of silver shards and clasps.

He scowled at himself in the mirror, trailing a finger down the cuffs of his jacket.
The jacket his mother had made for him when he was a child. A jacket which he had watched her make and smiled about as they talked.
She had made it for when he would inevitably grow up.
And now he had.

His eyes softened for a second as if he was reliving the moment, the memories.

But he shook his head and headed over to his desk as he ran his fingers through his red and white hair, ruffling it about slightly before plopping his coonskin cap ontop of his head. Adjusting it and pushing it around so that the tail brushed and swayed over his shoulder.
Another object which he cherished and kept safe. Picking up his belt and eying the sheath that hung from it; the sword that swung about inside before wrapping it around his waist and tightening it.


There was a knock at the door and he flinched when a voice called out to him from the other side. Female and tender.
"Prince Canada," she requested, "your breakfast is sitting in the hall. You're expected to have your training a little later today, as inquired by the General."
Canada -although still tired and drowsy- straightened his posture and replied with a young and steady voice.
"Thank you, I'll make sure to eat and be there on time."
And with that, he listened to the soft patter of the servant's footsteps retreating from the door and down the hallway.

Canada eventually stepped into the hall, greeted by silence and the quiet crackling of the fireplace which hardly made a difference when it came to the temperature of the room.
An inaudible sigh left him and he walked over to his seat. Sitting down and rubbing at his eyes as he tiredly looked at the food, and then the tea and then the emptiness of every other seat that had been pushed into the table.
Quiet and desolate.

He poured himself a cup of tea, trying to drag his thoughts onto something which could distract him for the time being.
Most of the time he spent alone, he read books, much to his father's disgust and lingering dismay which hardly meant anything to the Prince at this point. After countless years of being treated and looked down at like he was some sort of a failure; a puppet. He was now used to it.

Although, sometimes his facade of strength and lack of emotion broke.

The burning sensation of low emotions and memories he craved to grip onto for eternity always seemed to hurt him, haunt him.

He winced and raised the cup to his lips, taking a small sip as he stared at the table in silence. Hardly noting the servants who walked in to restock the fireplace with wood and the two guards who stood at some of the doors. Silent with their arms hanging loosely by their sides almost lifelessly.

They were easy to ignore.

After a few minutes of struggling to swallow down some food and the rest of the cup of his tea, Canada flinched at the light when he headed outside. Biting the inside of his lip when a sudden cold draft brushed against his cheek.
He gripped his jacket lightly, shoving the collar up further so that it pressed against his neck a little tighter. Some sort of attempt to calm himself as he trodded down the path of stone which he took every day.

Tall, dark-leaved bushes of crimson roses bloomed around him. And though his father loved and craved the sight of the flowers, he despised them. The sight of them disgusted him and the burning desire to rip them apart with his sword and even his bare hands always flared at the back of his mind every time he saw the cursed petals. But he did his best to contain his thoughts and turbulent ideas.

The path turned and Canada headed through a vague iron gate, frowning at the sight of the guards who stood on the other side.
But his gaze slightly softened when he made out the faint figure of his uncle who stood in the distance, watching him swing his sword about through the air, listening to the singing metal as he approached him with an unadorned smile.

"Uncle!" He called, eyes brightening up every so slightly.

The man perked up and looked over his shoulder, warily staring at Canada for a moment before a smirk spread across his face. Eyes gleaming slightly in the light as he turned to face his approaching nephew; lowering his sword to the beaten ground.
"Nice to see you on time, "he chuckled softly, looking him up and down with the smirk still on his face.

Canada rolled his eyes, clearly enjoying the presence of the family member, "when have I ever been late?"

"Well there was that one time-" His uncle started before holding his mouth shut when Canada shot him a sharp yet friendly glare.
Canada's uncle was a soft yet assertive man. High on his reign and road to becoming the strongest man he could be both mentally and physically for the Kingdom he lived in and fought for. And though he was trained and armed to the teeth in so many ways, he was a lot different from his brother and some of the soldiers who guarded to Kingdom's gates.
Not as bloodthirsty or lusting for violence and the slaughter of beasts.

The Prince sighed and pulled his sword out from its sheath with a stable grip. "So what will we be doing today, "he asked almost absent-mindedly. His mood visibly dropping at the thought of having to train for another few hours as he had done for years.

And his uncle noticed.

With a shuffle, he stepped over and pushed his sword against Canada's, pushing it so that it was pointed to the dirt. "We're not training today." He stated reassuringly, eyes glinting before he pulled away and slid his sword into its sheath, dusting his gloved hands off.

Canada was a little taken back, raising a brow, "but what about father?"

His uncle rolled his eyes with a bit of a grumble, "don't bother thinking about him. He's a coward anyway," he muttered the last part. Clearly, he wasn't on good terms with his brother, despite being high in command and a well-trained General who unquestionably had some power over the soldiers and their orders.

The Prince shook his head slightly before putting his sword away with a small hint of hesitation, making eye contact again. "So what are we going to do?"

The look on his uncle's face was nowhere near reassuring.

Canada found himself glancing around warily as he anxiously stepped down the bitter and scarred cobblestone stairs; his uncle noiselessly walking slightly ahead of him, eyes locked ahead. The stone shone strangely as if water had been poured over them, and Canada squinted his eyes at the distant noise of dripping water. Ignoring the torches he hiked past.

He turned and looked back to watch his uncle.
His name was Ireland. And Canada cherished every moment with him, especially the moments where it wasn't just training. Bonding was important to him, and he was thankful for the man who he followed after. A man who had stuck by his side for most of his life and supported him throughout his time living in the Kingdom.

Sure, the Prince could admit that he couldn't exactly let his emotions and feelings completely wash over to Ireland. But at least he could feel a little happier and more like himself around him without being criticised or punished.

It seemed like he had lost himself in his thoughts for a few minutes. The conflict in his head silent yet violent, the immensity bringing on the derivation of a fleeting headache. But it wasn't long until he was pierced from his mind and those thoughts, blinking at the hand that waved about in front of him, and the cold look on Ireland's face. Something Canada hadn't really seen before, and the glint and lingering plead in his uncle's eyes made him perk up.

Ireland frowned slightly, a muscle in his jaw twitching before he pulled away and put a gloved finger to his lips. Turning and hurrying down the steps with Canada in tow.

Soon, Canada could hear voices and the distant clatter of what sounded like metal and wood. The air getting increasingly more humid as his anxiety rose. Brushing a thumb against his brow as he chewed on his lip.

Eventually, Ireland stopped walking. Standing at the bottom of the stairs and glancing around, his pupils flicking around as he surveyed what was in front of him. Waiting and listening patiently; stagnant. His eyes were pinned on something, and Canada grimaced and guardedly glanced up the stairs, making sure no one was coming down. Thankfully met with nothing but the quiet sounds of dripping water.

"It's clear," Ireland mumbled, emotion lacking in his quiet words before he turned to face the Prince. Gazing down at him and fidgeting very slightly.

"I'm not supposed to be taking you down here... I'm not supposed to tell you or show you anything that's here but..."He paused with hesitation, glancing back over his shoulder as if contemplating his decision to take his nephew down into the dark.
"I need you to see this. Even if I get caught and punished, you need to see it." His demeanour and tone changed to something confident and concrete, and he offered a hand to Canada who swallowed the lump in his throat with force before taking it. Gripping it tightly as a sign of his appreciation and agreement towards the older man.

And so, the General led Canada down a hallway silently. Their boots clicking against the wet floor as they passed the burning torches that hung from the walls. Light gleaming and running across the stone floors and ceiling like a ghost.
The Prince glanced down at Ireland's hand as a way of distracting himself as they approached the end of the hallway. Closer and closer to the rising sounds of clicking metal and a new sound that made Canada's hair stand on end, even flinching whenever the fur of his hat brushed against his neck.

Ireland sighed shakily, glancing around again before proceeding to step out from the hallway. And into what looked like a massive hall that caught Canada off-guard.

Canada winced at the change in lighting, jolting slightly at the feeling of his uncle letting his hand go. The air was both musty and damp at the same time. The smell of smoke and something like rot lingering in the air as well as the panging scent of iron. Which only meant two things.

His uncle sighed quietly and then stepped away from Canada, allowing him to look forward.

Right at the center of the room.

And at the cage that stood in the middle.

Thick dark chains spread across the floor. Tightened and hooked into the walls that arched around the cage like ominous and cruel gods. Splattered with blood and a black substance that drenched the stone like the floors of a murderous and merciless butcher.

Canada hadn't been listening to the dripping of water.
And the thought and sound made his stomach twist and his chest tighten with a heaviness he couldn't control.

Black feathers stuck out from the ooze, dripping and sticky. Canada almost gagging at the sight before he began to follow the chains with pupils now suffering from miosis. The chains that looped and arched and slithered into the cage like a million vipers. Clattering curtly and brazenly against the blemished rock.

And as Canada slowly rose his head to stare further up at the metal structure. He almost stumbled and choked on his breath. His uncle staring up at the same thing his eyes were shakily pinned on.

The creature.
The monster.

Who kneeled into the stone and metal. With chains choking its skin and bones.
With cruel and ragged wings arching over its body like a god with massive and yet delicate looking feathers that were embedded with rivers and speckles of what looked like tarnished gold.
Its claws almost pitch black with gold running through its skin. Gripping onto the stone and bars that kept it in its state of dangerous and friendless solitude.
All dripping with black and blood.
Scars wreaked havoc across its body and the bars that loomed around it. Covered in the tales of pain and anguish.

And with a small and hardly noticeable jolt.
The creature nonchalantly moved to raise its head.

Facing the two with a cold expression.

Amidst the eyes of the night and the pupils of the stars.

A creature of wonder.

And what Canada thought he was looking at-
an immortal being.

But he didn't know what to think.

So struck with awe and frozen by the beauty of the creature's wings and eyes that glimmered behind its hair. Its dark body was almost concealed amongst the darkness of the dim room, but its eyes and golden features still shone gently.

And yet also struck by horror and dismay. The feeling of sickness and nausea and anxiety haunting his mind. The squeezing and ebbing pain that began to rise in his lungs and throat.

What was he staring at?
What was this thing doing in the middle of his father's kingdom?

And why was it chained and contained?

But the noise of fabric snapped him back to reality, and he snagged his gaze away from the being that had been staring back at him.
Looking up towards his uncle who continued to grimace at the spectacle before he looked down to meet the eyes of his nephew.

Quietly watching and thinking before he took Canada's hands and opened his mouth and shakily spoke the words which Canada hadn't been expecting.

And Canada could almost feel the sensation of his life come crashing down all over again at the soft and apprehensive sentence.

"I need your help."

-------------------------------------

;)
What'd you think of that?

Finally, Canada is here! I couldn't wait to belatedly get him into the story and I promise you a load of characters will be dragged in very soon c:

I'm pretty sure the introduction to this 'creature' was my most favourite scene- although, the image of the scene looked a lot better in my head than how I wrote it so eh c':

Anyway-

People have been wondering when tf China will be included in the story and though I don't have any plans for him yet- I decided to draw him with his original design because I'm pretty proud of it!

someoneoninstagramtoldmei'mgoodatcharacterdesignandi'mveryhappy

anyway

He's gonna have bootiful long hair because why not c:

Pretty boy.

As well as this!

Thank you so much to Amaura1406 who made some wonderful art for this chapter! :D She's an amazing artist and writer so please go and check out her stories!

Please show her some love and support!!!! ^^

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! :D

Sorry for being slow

Word count: 3690

11/07/2021 EDIT: I changed the song in the link above the chapter. It fits too fuckin well with Canada's feelings and stuff. Especially towards the end of this chapter so PLEASE. if you have the time, try reading this chapter with the song in the background playing. and tell me what you think

*it's currently 4am and I'm having a hell of a fun time aA