Fredrick looked up at the meeting hall. He was in Moscow and freezing, sleepy and starving. He had to leave late at night to get to Moscow with a crossover in Tokyo, Irkutsk, Omsk and finally Moscow. That took about 15 hours. The meeting was a late night one, so he had time to sleep. For about five hours. Then Fredrick had to get up and clean up his image. Then he got a taxi and told the driver in broken Russian to take him to the meeting hall. So, here he was, standing in ankle deep snow. It was snowing so the snow was getting deeper by the minute.
Fredrick rubbed his upper arms and shivered, starting to trudge inside the hopefully warm meeting hall. Curse his luck, it was cold. 'The heating must've broke', He thought. 'They'll fix it soon. Hopefully.' He hugged his thick, grey jacket closer and sat down at his seat, beside a young man who had THICK eyebrows and emerald green eyes. He glanced at Fredrick, blinked and snarled, "Well, you're late again, wanker." That made Fredrick want to punch something, mostly that green eyed twat. But he restrained himself and put on an oblivious grin.
"Dude! I missed you too!" He inwardly cringed. How did Union pull this off every single meeting? Freddie knew that Alfred was quite the warrior when he wanted to be. He became a superpower for a reason. The green eyed guy rolled his eyes like he was saying, 'This bitch serious?'. He looked away, sighed and put on a fake smile.
The meeting was actually pretty quiet compared to normal. Sure, arguments erupted here and there but it was really, REALLY quiet. Probably because of the cold. Fredrick made a few bad jokes which sparked an argument between him and 'Brows'. Here he was, sitting in the meeting hall alone, on break. Freddie had picked himself up a good old ham and cheese sandwich, not the stereotypical 'hamburbur' of Alfred (Yes, Union pronounces things like that). He just sat there in the cold, quiet meeting hall, alone when someone walked in. His footsteps were rather loud and heavy. It sounded like the person had steel-toed boots on but Freddie could be sure. Matthew had gone out for lunch, so it couldn't be him. Freddie didn't turn around when the person said, "You look lonely, Amerika." The persons accent sounded Russian. Freddie still didn't turn around.
Until someone grabbed his shoulder.
Freddie spun around and punched someone's chest. He then looked up to see wide violet eyes. Fredrick suddenly recognised him: Russia. The taller nation chuckled coldly and a dark aura erupted from around him. Freddie wasn't scared, as he was used to Wendigo and this guy was nothing, but to play the part Alfred, he had to pretend to be scared. He jumped backwards and halfheartedly screamed, "OH SHIT! I'm sorry, dude!" He then covered his face with his arms. Behind them, he quietly gagged. He kept backing up until he felt a mitten covered hand on his shoulder. Freddie jumped again, then quietly sighed in relief. It was just Matthew.
"Can you please stop bothering him?" Matthew asked quietly. No one heard him. Confederate rolled his eyes. He knew that Canada could be louder then that. In fact, he was louder the Union when he wanted too. Freddie was ready to kick some shins when the rest of the Allies came in. Russia smiled creepily at him one last time and walked off to join the three other nations.
Matthew then pulled him to the side. "Protection is up. Don't worry about the Wendigo, which, by the way, followed you. I saw one outside but I took care of him." He winked at him, in a brotherly way, and walked off. Freddie sighed. This was going to be a long second half.
*********
"So, zat's a vrap." The blond at the front sighed. Freddie sighed quietly in relief. Finally that unproductive meeting was over. The second half was just as bad as the first. Not only it was quiet but it was silent. No one was speaking when asked, no one speaking in general. Maybe because of the cold. Suddenly, there was a almost silent but audible scritch, scritch, scritch. All heads shot around, slightly annoyed at the sound. "Alright, vho ish zat?" Ludwig asked, also somewhat annoyed. Silence. Then Matthew finally spoke up, "It's... It's not us, Mister Germany. It's... Something else." He said this with enough fear to make his voice quiver. Ludwig paled ever so slightly. He knew to fear Matthew from both World Wars so he knew to be scared of something when Canada was scared as well.
Dead silence. No one dared to move, not even Freddie. Canada, who was on his right, leaned over and whispered, "Wendigo. I can feel it." CSA shuttered. Matthew addressed the rest of the room, "There is most likely a malevolent spirit, outside the door, that makes Russia look like a small puppy." Absolute chaos for a few seconds. Ludwig then turned to Freddie, "Jour alfully quiet. Zat's never a gut shign." CSA stayed quiet until 'Brows', as he still called England, piped up, "That's not America." Freddie couldn't hold it back anymore. "Now listen here, sweetheart. I'll have you know..." He was cut off by England. "FIRST OFF!" He yelled. Then he sighed, calming down. "First off, you have two different coloured eyes." Freddies hand flew to his brown right eye, then touched his blue left eye. Sighing, he sat back. Two different colors for him meant annoyed or angry. "SECONDLY, America doesn't call anyone 'Sweetheart'." He put the word 'sweetheart' in quotations. A few whispers from the nations, but they died off when the scratching came back. They were louder this time.
"Everyone, out the window!" Freddie whisper yelled. He then hands Matthew a leather bound journal, whispering, "Just in case." He then lead everyone to the window. France was making flirty comments about CSA, saying how much skinnier he was compared to Union and some other weird stuff about the Southern states. Freddie wanted to beat France up on the spot and leave him to the Wendigo, but he caught Matthew's eye and Matthew shook his head. CSA looked away and sighed, defeated but he made France go last. Once the country of love jumped from the second story window, the spirit burst into the room, ready to create havoc, it's dark eyeholes scanning the room. It's head spun toward Freddie. It then gave an oily growl and charged straight at him.
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Wooo! That was long and it took waaaaaay too long to write. 1081 words
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The Youngest ((Hetalia story))
Genel KurguThe youngest, the last brother. That's what they called him. His name was Frederick Jones, The American South or, if you prefer, the Confederate states of America. He was dissolved but, like Prussia, he didn't fully die. When America falls ill, he g...
