"Prelude..." HOLY CRAP I WROTE SOMETHING. DKAFJDL

(( Hey all! So, you guys have been bugging me about how I should write a fanfic. Right?

Well, I wrote one.

This here's a tiny snippet of what's to come. This idea has been nagging at me for months now, and here it is put to paper.

Try and enjoy, lol. XD ))

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She raced down the cobblestone streets, her hard breathing rasping in the cold air.

It had been weeks since the attacks had started. As always, the North-men were unrelenting.

Their target this time, the Kingdom of England.

Her brown hair whipped around her as she rounded another corner, heading for the harbor. She had to see this for herself.

Horns and warning shouts blared as people ran past her. In the eyes of others, she was running in the wrong direction.

She halted against the wood of the docks, her chocolate eyes widening in pure horror.

They were here.

She could glimpse the faint flicker of red flags amongst the ships' masts, their bows intimidatingly drawing closer.

She couldn't bring herself to move. All this time she had assumed that the attacks from the North-men were nothing more than legend, a fools tale.

Oh how she was wrong.

She gasped as anchors were thrown overboard, the North-men departing from their ships onto the dock.

Cries of war could be heard as the gruff men raced passed her, not even noting her existance. This was both a blessing and a confusion to the young girl. She was used to being overlooked, especially by men of war.

Their target was England, not her.

She turned on her heel, dashing off the docks. She had to find him. She had to warn him before it was too late.

It was already too late. Her tracks halted as a strong hand gripped her arm, dragging her backwards into the bulk of a man.

She gulped, turning her head to meet her captor.

Piercing sapphire eyes met hers, an eyebrow raised in confusion.

His eyes narrowed, his voice a deathly whisper. "Who are you?"

She stammered at his question. 'How can he see me? They never see me!'

"I...."

"NO MARIANNE! GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

The familiar voice pulled the brunette from her daze, her eyes widening in sudden hope.

Her captor pulled her harder against his chest, sapphire eyes blazing. His lips quirked up into a tight smirk. "Ah. I was wondering when you would show your face."

Emerald eyes narrowed, swift hands drawing a rapier. "Let her go, damn you! I'll cut you down where you stand!"

The man behind her erupted into a ferocious laughter, hand clasped over his eyes. He met the man's gaze once again. "Why would you care so much? Is there something special about this girl I should know?"

Fear glazed her features. She knew just what this man would do.

"No! Don't listen to him Arthur! He's here to invade you, like the other North-men have done to those other nations!"

The emerald eyes softened upon her form. "Marianne...."

"NO!" Her gaze fell. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless, not when you've become so strong..."

His voice cracked. "Marianne...I won't let-"

An obnoxious snort interrupted them. "I had no idea. No idea. Where've you been hiding someone like this, England? And how can she know who you are?"

The English-man snarled. "That's none of your damn business! Now, are you going to let her go? Or do I have to kill you?"

The North-man shrugged, shoving her towards the Brit.

Marianne fell into his grasp immediately, though that emerald gaze never left the North-man's.

England shoved her behind himself, sword raised. He began pacing slowly.

The North-man snorted as he reached behind his back. Marianne's eyes widened at the sight of his weapon, one which made England's seem so meager.

A war axe.

Sapphire eyes met with emerald as the two locked in a deadly dance, their pacing matched.

It was the North-man who struck first, the metal of his axe clashing with the Brit's rapier. Marianne knew this wouldn't last long.

The English-man was shoved back as the North-man struck again. This time though, the blow from the war axe caused the Brit to stumble.

And fall.

Brown eyes widened in horror as the rapier skidded uselessly away, leaving the English-man unarmed.

"Arthur!"

The North-man stalked towards him, victory written all over his features. He raised the axe, prepared for the finishing blow.

The Brit closed his eyes, excepting the inevitable.

"ARTHUR!"

The sudden movement surprised him more than anything. Before the axe could be lowerd she was sheilding him, the fallen rapier in-hand.

Tears streamed from her horrified eyes as she pointed the blade at the North-man. "I-I....I won't let you kill him."

Every conflict, all the fights the two had ever had came flooding back now, like an instant-replay. She didn't care, the thought of losing him was even worse.

Slowly, the North-man lowered his axe, sapphire eyes holding something she hadn't expected from his rutheless type.

Sympathy.

Axe to the side, he knelt down on one knee, gaze locking with hers.

"Your name is Marianne, right?"

Her head nodded, hand on the blade still quivering.

He reached a gloved hand out, ruffling her hair slightly. "I'll remember that."

He rose then, sliding his axe back into its sling. He eyed Marianne first. "We'll meet again. I'm sure of it."

The smile he offered was strangely comforting.

The blue eyes hardened as his gaze flicked to the English-man. "As for you, this isn't over. Kirkland."

And with that, he was gone, motioning his troops back to their ships. The two merely watched them sail away. It was then that she caught glimpse of the flag on the masts.

A white cross in red.

She turned back to Arthur, a small smile playing on her lips. He placed a hand on her head, chuckling. "I'll never know where you get that bravery from."

She laughed. Eyes darting back to the departing ships. "He seemed nice."

The laughing instantly stopped. She turned her gaze back to a now annoyed Brit.

"Nice? How the -THE BRITISH ARE COMING THE BRITISH ARE COMING- hell was he nice?!"

More giggles slipped past her lips. "Well, we're alive. Aren't we?"

That shut him up for a minute.

She broke the silence. "Maybe the North-men aren't all as bad as they're cooked up to be. Maybe there's hope for their hearts yet."

The blonde huffed, blowing a strand of hair from his face. "I doubt it. Wankers, the lot of them."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "You need to have more faith in people Arthur. How else will you maintain friendships?"

He rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. You weren't the one being invaded."

Her gaze turned towards the ocean, the ships smaller now.

"Yes, but I was born here..."

No matter how much she cared for Arthur, and no matter how young she was, she knew she would have to leave eventually.

Their seperation was inevitable.

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(( Okay, fun history lesson time.

I got the inspiration for this one from my medieval history class, learning about Scandinavia. That's right, Vikings. This was based on the Scandinavian Vikings' invasions to certain regions of Europe. Their attacks were highly feared and, well, they kinda whooped everyone's ass. They were often referred to as "North-men".

I'll give anyone a cookie who figures out what group of Vikings invaded England here. *Hint: There are only 3 to choose from!*

I'll explain Marianne's role in history with the other nations later, as I continue to write this.

OC Marianne belongs to me~ ))

(( I knooowwww

Spoiler:

(( You, my friend, win a virtual cookie. ))