Before We Were Countries

England: Part 2

Ms. Periwinkle was collapsed on her knees, tears burning in her eyes as she watched her house burn. Behind her, a few men stood, watching the burning with venomous gazes.

I felt my heart skip a best as I watched helplessly for a minute, unable to process what was truly going on. Then I ran to them. "Hey! Stop that, you bloody idiots! What are you doing?!" I nearly screeched. One of the men looked towards me, raising an eyebrow before stopping me a bit roughly, large frame keeping me from Ms. Periwinkle.

"You should know better than anyone, you've lived next to... Next to this witch!" The villager said while the other looked to me, the sweet old woman just behind him crying.

"Are you playing some bloody sick idea of a prank? She's no witch, I even doubt that she deserves anything punishing even if she is; she's a good lady, never hurt a fly in this community!"

"This community, maybe." The one closest to Ms. Periwinkle hissed. "Who knows what this witch has done! Who knows how many she's cursed!"

"That's enough!" I finally had gotten fed up; gone was the gentlemanly attitude. "What are you even going to do to this innocent lady?!"

"Burn her of course." A new voice joined in the prosecution; Marcus, the shop owner. I grimaced on reflex, turning to him.

"You can't be serous! That's bloody barbaric-"

"Why are ya standing up for 'er Arthur. Are you the warlock, in fact?" Marcus smirked, seemingly happy to have infuriated me.

"You bloody little- there's no such thing as either!! Just let her go, please!" I said, slowly growing desperate. She had been there since I had moved here, are the poor woman had just been the kindest to everyone.

"Why? Why are you defending her so much Mr. Kirkland?" Markus laughed, eerily calm. "Is it because you're the witch in town? Is it that?"

I barely heard myself reply, I was just desperate now. If only my brother were here, he would tell him...

"Alrighty then! Grab him!"

I snapped back to reality, eyes widening as I was roughly grappled, arms forced behind my back as I was forced the slouch. The two men were on me now, Marcus watching me with a grin; was it fearful, or sadistic in nature? I wouldn't know to this day. The pulled me along the cobbled streets, my own feet having trouble keeping up in the odd position they held me.

We arrived at a shed; that was when it began. The torture, the hair cutting, searching for horns and pin pricking. I shivered after just an our of this, my hair in clumps at my feet, golden locks somewhat bloodied clumps if they had mistakenly cut my scalp. I just wanted it all to end. It hurts..

My mind was a jumbled mess as I watched the sun set, marking the end of my day in torture. It had been such a whirlwind, had I answered yes before? Had I let myself be subjected to this torture?

I let out a sigh when the men finally returned, but this time Marcus wasn't with them. A younger boy and one of the men from before were there, little boy giving me a pitying, disgusted look and the man remaining stoic and aloof from this. What did I even look like? They grabbed my bruised black and blue wrists, dragging me along to the final destination. The stakes.

It wasn't exactly a completely new sight, I'd seen it elsewhere of course, though it did strike me as stark and different, a bad different, for this town. There was another unfortunate soul besides myself, his red eyes definitely a haunting sight amid the lit torches staked into the ground around. They reflected the light in a way I disliked, therefore I began to look away stubbornly.

He stared a moment longer at me, drilling gaze lingering before the men pushed me forwards, pushing me on the stake and tying me upright to it.

It seemed like quite the while until they were ready with preparations, and though the albino next to me seemed scary, he chatted up a storm while waiting.

"So who are...-"

"Gilbert." He didn't skip a bit, giving me a toothy grin. "I'm Prussian too, as you could tell I'm not from around here."

"Yeah, just slightly..." I amended, raising a bushy eyebrow. "Germanic then? What were you doing all the way up here?"

"Looking for Britain." He shrugged.

"Well you certainly found it, though I doubt there's anything to be found in the landmass aside from burning. You were falsely accused as well I presume?"

"Yeah, but it was you!" He chuckled. "We've really met in the worst situation. But anyways, I am wrongly accused mostly."

"Mostly?" I dropped it, scrunching my eyebrows at the completely confusing sentence. "You wanted to see me? I'm not exactly a note worthy scholar yet..."

"No, but I mean... I am Prussia. You're England. Understand?"

Now I just thought he was spluttering nonsense, though I perhaps could see why, so close to our untimely deaths. The men decided to return that moment.

I turned my head to ignore his rambling, much to his annoyance, red eyes flickering away in annoyance, muttering something in German with a pout.

The fire was lit under our feet.

It was smouldering, charring at our feet, then slowly traveling up our bodies, arching up my I'll clothed, bloody back.

That was the last of Arthur Kirkland, or per say, he as a human.

Fret not, though he wasn't a great scholar yet, perhaps 200 years changes a person.