The Once and Future King (Hetalia)

III: Turning Tables

Black.

It was mostly all black, but green occassionally found its way into view.

No. It was the black that was appearing, not the green. It danced in and out of focus.

God, his head hurt. Everything burned. There was an insane knocking at the back of his head. And someone . . .

Someone calling his name.

"—thur! Arthur, are you all right?!"

It was frantic. And so familiar.

Arthur's eyes snapped open.

"Alfred, get back!" he shouted, searching frantically for his friend. "They're here! We need to form a circle, and—"

"I know, Arthur." Alfred's face came into view. "I think we're good now."

"Good?" Arthur thought he'd gone mad. "We're in the middle of a battle!"

"No, we're not," Alfred said. "Francis took 'em all out."

"He did what?"

Arthur blinked back the blurriness. The sun was scorchingly bright overhead; Arthur felt as if his eyes were going to burn out of their sockets.

"Take it easy, Artie. You got hit over the head pretty badly."

Arthur picked up his sword and Alfred helped him up. Together, they went over to where Francis was standing. The warlock was in the middle of interrogating the attackers.

"If any of you have learned anything after that," Francis was saying, "it's that you should never mess with a Master Socière such as myself. I may not be so courteous as to tie you up next time."

The bandit in the middle, who seemed to be the group's leader, growled at Francis. "Don't go doing us a favour, magician. Don't want to ruin your pretty fingernails, eh?"

Francis' lips curled in distaste. "Oh, you insult me."

"How'd you defeat them?" Arthur wondered in amazement. "There were . . . at least a dozen of them."

"I told you I could handle myself," Francis said, winking at his King. Arthur reddened.

"Never doubted you! I just keep wondering why you don't show the same skill when defending others!"

"And how do you know I wasn't doing that?"

"That—" Arthur bit back another scathing remark. "Never mind! Never mind, you bloody fool."

Alfred marched up to the bandit leader. "Who are you people? Why did you attack us?"

"Why do you think?" the leader shot back. "The question is, why are a bunch of city dwellers marching through the forest? Don't you have somewhere to be? Living in your luxurious homes, perhaps?"

"What are you . . ."

"Why do you say that?" Arthur interrupted. "Is it wrong that we come from the city?"

"Wrong?" the bandit leader said. "Wrong? Wrong, no. But it is Camelot that we blame for throwing us out of our homes and into this mess. It's because of your city that we're forced to attack travellers just so we could feed ourselves."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Camelot? What crimes are Camelot to answer to?"

"You don't know? No, of course not. You lot think your King is so wise and so humble. But he's just a selfish bastard."

Alfred stepped forward threateningly. "Do you know who you're speaking to, coward?!"

"No," the bandit replied. "Care to enlighten me?"