You sat watching the stars on a hill overlooking one of your favorite cities, the vast, steady slopes of green around you making your spot completely isolated. It was as if you were in another world altogether; no matter how bright the lights of the city grew they still managed to resemble nothing more than fireflies dancing in a dark meadow, flickering and fading in and out of life as time passed by.
Time... That was one thing you had quite a lot of.
You, _(first name)(last name)_, were the human representation of a country called Draconia. You were both its guardian and leader- in a manner of speaking. Your country was ancient, or at least, its lore and roots were.
You liked to compare yourself to a tree. Your roots were ancient, reaching and twisting in so many ways that you might never be able to decipher them from one and another, but in whole you made up something that was both ancient and modern. After all, a country was more than just politics and titles. You were part of the very earth itself.
You glanced down at the speck of the city below you while more and more of the lights began to flicker to life as the moon made its way fully into the sky. 'Not much longer now...' you thought. A fiendish smile slowly spread over your face, your serpentine (e/c) eyes shining. Tomorrow you and your army would set out across the sea, swords at the ready and banners flying high. You would show your enemies the true meaning of terror.
They didn't call you 'Dragon' for nothing.
"I've been exiled,
left alone with no defense.
When I think of what that brute did,
I get a little tense."
"But I dream a dream so pretty,
that I don't feel so depressed.
'Cause it soothes my inner [girly],
and it helps me get some rest."
Your country's flag fluttered proudly in the wind as you walked through the city, its design consisting of a pure black background with a white dragon curling around a crescent moon in the center, five stars in turn curling around its arched wings. Its design wasn't based off of some past war or hero- no, it was much more than that. Even your country's flag was weaved from your legends and lore. Five stars for the five elements, and a dragon that had long ago been said to have captured the moon, making it fade and shine in turn as it flew across the starry canvas of the sky.
Although many had thought dragons horrid beasts, you had always befriended them. A shame that none of the other countries seemed to be able to see them. Except, of course, for England.
England... The gentleman pirate of the sea, the dreaded Captain Arthur Kirkland. How you loathed his very existence. Even the thought of him caused your blood to boil, your mood to darken. Saying that you wanted nothing more than to brutally murder him was quite an understatement.
He was the main reason you and your army were setting across the sea. By the time you arrived it would be well into the dead of night- hopefully. The perfect time to strike. Although you, personally, couldn't really care less if anyone saw your ships as they neared the British harbors, if the black wood and blood-red sails of your vessels were the last thing they ever saw.
You would show no mercy.
Being on a ship gave a person a lot of time to think. Unfortunately for you that also meant more time for your thoughts to haunt you.
You hadn't always been so cold and distant, intimidating even. To be honest, you still weren't.
Many of the other countries thought you cold, viscous, and prone to violence. Hell, even Russia didn't mess with you- although, you saw no reason why either your subarctic friend or any other country would ever want to try attacking you and your people. You were, and always had been, a large island country that was separated from the rest of the world- both geographically and politically. Like Switzerland, you were more or less neutral. You had no problem dealing with people, in fact you 'dealt' with them quite often. Quite swiftly, too.
You were exceptionally good at what you were. And in all blunt honesty, you were an assassin and a pirate. You saw no point in sugar-coating the truth.
You took what you wanted from your enemies after defeating them and loyally guarded what was yours like the creature you were nicknamed after. Once you claimed something, you didn't let it go.
"I wonder... Is it wrong for me to say that I don't feel the slightest remorse for my actions?" you murmured aloud, resting your chin on your hands. A small smile crept onto your lips as you closed your eyes in thought, completely unaffected by the sounds of a storm outside your cabin and the swaying of the ship.
Although you completely hated England, even you had to admit you were alike. You both took whatever you wished and refused to give it up, even to the point of direct conflict... You also had to admit that that fact bothered you immensely.
It was that similarity that had caused you so much trouble, lead you to the situation you were currently in at the moment, actually. It was that whole 'steal and keep' factor that was pushing you to even wage war with the British Captain and his fleet.
As childish as it seemed... England had stolen from you, and you had no intention of letting it go quietly.
"The sound of [England's] dying gasp,
his [brother] squealing in my grasp.
His [people's] mournful cry,
that's my lullaby!"
"Now the past I've tried forgetting,
and my foes I could forgive.
Trouble is I know it's petty,
but I hate to let them live."
The crescent moon rose gradually into the sky, illuminating your shadow colored ships in faint slashes of moonlight. You smiled to yourself, gazing at the sky. How ironic that the night you reclaimed your little... 'Treasure' would be one bearing the same moon as the one on your flags.
Perhaps you could scare your opponent's crew away with some superstition. How would the infamous Captain Kirkland react then?
An amusing thought, to be sure. Too bad your 'boss' never let you off your little leash.
'Good, _____. Sit. Stay. Now, go fetch!' You gave a small chuckle and got up to set your plan in motion. Rousing the rest of your crew you took your usual place at the stern, checking first to make sure you had all the 'proper' equipment before giving out the orders to get ready.
You saw a light somewhere on the shore, but whoever it belonged to was too far away to do anything to what was about to happen. You wondered briefly who it could possibly belong to before raising your hand into the air, your smile taking on an edge of malice as you threw your arm out to the side, your voice booming over your crew.
"So you found yourself somebody,
who'll chase [him] up a tree.
Oh, the battle may be bloody,
but that kind of works for me."
"The melody of angry growls,
a counterpoint point of painful howls.
A symphony of death,
That's my lullaby!"
It took only a few minutes for your crew to throw the place into total chaos, the rest of your ships following suit after seeing your command. However, laying waste to this harbor was only the beginning. Your troops began to flood off of your ships as they shored, marching through the small town and raising it to the ground. You had nothing against these people personally, but as far as symbolism went, this would make your message pretty clear.
As horrible as you must have seemed in that moment, attacking a harmless harbor town in a country across the ocean, you actually weren't the one who had started this unannounced war.
England stole from you, but he did it by kidnapping the young Prince of Draconia. And he was holding him for ransom.
"The pounding of the drums of war,
the thrill of [our] mighty roar!
The joy of vengeance!
"I can hear the cheering!
[Name], what a guy!
Payback time is nearing,
and then our flag will fly,
against a blood-red sky!
That's my lullaby!"
You brandished your sword as the cause of all your aggravation came into sight, that signature smug grin on his face. Little to your surprise, he was holding onto a small boy of no more than six years old, his hands tied and his mouth covered with a dirty rag. To be honest, you didn't really care all that much about the kid. He was a Prince, sure, but you were only here because your 'Emperor' had ordered you to, not because of any emotional attachment.
"I see you've finally arrived, love. Come to take back your little Prince?" England asked, patting the boy roughly on the head. You tightened your grip on your sword, already feeling your temper rise from his mere presence. You never could place it, but there was something that really pissed you off about the man.
His smugness? Perhaps that ridiculous feathered hat he wore? Maybe it was that he had the audacity to steal something- eh, someone- from you? Or could it be that every time you two encountered each other he made a point of using the term "love" instead of "Captain" or "Draconia" or even just "_____ _____". Did he seriously think to charm you, or was he simply trying to piss you off?
'It's probably the latter...' you thought irritably. 'Though who knows.. With his ego I wouldn't be surprised if he thought he could charm me into doing something. I'm surprised he hasn't choked on his own hubris yet.'
"Exactly what the hell do you want, England? As much fun as burning and destroying your cities are, I really don't have the time to be playing with you. Be a good boy and play dead, eh?" You threw at him, your voice icy. Out of the corner of your eye you saw your soldiers flinch, a dark aura practically pouring out of you. England simply frowned, wrapping an arm threateningly around the boys neck "Well, from one Captain to another, I just want to make a trade..."
You quirked a brow. "A trade? What could you possibly want from me for a stolen Prince?" you asked, suspicious. You were expecting some bold demand, perhaps even an attempted ambush. But a trade? He simply gave you a small, cruel smile and tightened his hold on your Prince, the arrogance of the gesture making your eye twitch.
He acted like he had total power over you, despite the fact that you had just undergone a march of destruction across a portion of his lands.
"Well, it's something very simple, really. But only something you can give me, love..." he replied casually, giving you an odd look. You honestly couldn't tell if he was examining you or glaring at you. Maybe it was a mix of both. You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing slightly "Simple, eh? And what might that be?" you asked, edging closer. However, his next few words made you stop in your tracks.
"Yourself, of course."