The Ruler and The Hunter //Original Countryhumans Au

Chapter 3: Beasts and Memories

The sun rose gradually, its golden light radiating through the creamy and purple clouds, carrying warmth over the nearby forest and distant fields.
Birds sung sweetly, robins and sparrows chirping and flying about, landing on the window sill. Sat together and preening themselves, wings fluttering, tiny fluffy feathers hanging loose and being dragged away by the light wind.
The golden and pine-coloured grass swayed, their movements almost resembling the ripples in a pond.
Flowers were blooming, early berries hardly visible yet bringing their vibrant colours.

Light flickered in through the gap in the curtains, crawling up along the floor and onto the side of the bed where America lay, fast asleep, buried into the pillows and heavy blankets. His eyes squinted in his sleep, pulling the blankets closer with a tight grip.

It was so dark but America knew where he was. Surrounded by a dark abyss that stretched until forever.
His dreams were always like this. And yet they always seemed to scare him everytime.
America swallowed and looked around nervously, gripping hands into fists by his sides, blood ran down from his wound, dripping and hitting the floor. It was all he could hear.

He was waiting.

The darkness started to morph with dark greens and shades of grey, flowing around like the wild and untamed sea before shapes started to appear, forming into objects.
And soon America found himself standing there, a small forest before him, shrubs splotched about.
Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he looked at his hands, met with the ones of the child he used to be. His clothes were different, loose and small, the colours sending fear through his body, shivers up his spine. Unwanted tingles.

He could feel his small body trembling and he was soon walking forward, stuck in his childish body, going through a horrid memory he had tried to forget. A memory that haunted him, scared him. 
Blood was dripping, splattered across the trees, darker, more than there had been in the real thing. At this point his mind was playing with him.

There was distant shouting, yelling and curses, loud cracking noises which made him flinch. Figures ran past him through the trees in the distance, all wearing dark and recognizable uniforms, armed with weapons.
Those people... they always frightened him...
It wasn't long until America was running, going as fast as he could, following after the trail of blood, trying to keep as quiet as possible, not wanting to bring any unwanted attention.
He stumbled, shouldering his way through the bushes and the low hanging branches of the trees until he abruptly skidded to a halt, eyes widening.

There was so much blood, an arrow discarded on the ground in a puddle of crimson, the dirt disturbed and looking like something had been dragged across it.
And a werewolf slumped against an oak tree, eyes closed, ears slightly flat.
An arrow wound clear to the eye, straight in the chest.
America tried to move, he tried to speak. But he couldn't, frozen in place, watching in agony as the memory started to fade away, once again engulfed in black.

And then he woke up.

America's eyes snapped open, he sat up quickly, gripping his chest tightly and looking down, trembling lightly. He could still hear it all, the shouting and the screaming, echoing through his head and he whimpered, hugging his knees to his chest and pushing his down. Waiting as the horrid sounds soon disappeared.
That memory always haunted him along with many others... but that one..? A scarring, horrific event a child should never go through, a scene one should never witness...

It was quiet now, the singing of birds hardly audible outside.
He sighed and shook his head, tiredly rubbing at his eyes and surveying his room.
It was like the one he had been brought too, at least a little larger. There was a small bookshelf off to the side next to the desk, a notebook, quills and ink set atop it for his use. There was also a small pile of fresh clothes on the nearby seat and America was surprised when he saw his dagger ontop, the blade shining.

Ukraine had brought him to his new room a day ago, smiling and talking about how he was going to be served breakfast as well as offering him some dinner which America quietly refused to. Not exactly trusting the supplements in this castle... full of beasts... monsters...
America scowled. He still couldn't believe he was in this place, this horrid place which he had been learned to hate and fear and so much more. His fate in the claws of a ruthless King.