[Fanfic] England during the 100 Years War

[haruki-emishi.livejournal.com]

Title: Eve of War (Chapter 1)
Author: haruki_emishi 
Characters: England, France, Spain, Italy, and more later.
Warnings: Plagues!
Rating: PG because damn is used




 
  England tossed about in his bed weary and delirious from his on setting illness that he became stricken with. The outside world beyond his darkened room had the same tumultuous and melancholy feeling of sickness and dread. Feverishly he grasped at his sheets and moaned out in pain his entire body aching terribly. Taking in deep and shaking breaths he opened his green eyes slowly, and took in the dark room he was laying in. Outside the wind whistled every so slightly through the cracks of his wooden shutters and, every so often one of them would creak and move ever so slightly with the wind’s current. It was an eerie feeling that had been creeping up over the city of London for the past week now and had only grown stranger. Europe had been struck with the onslaught of a terribly sickness that was killing people in the hundreds, thousands, unprecedented numbers. A letter from Veneciano stated that the plague had begun there, or so he believed, and laid claim to half the population of Venice or more. The biggest issue there was Veneciano’s home resided within the walls of Venice and he was trapped there. Letters stopped coming after some time and Arthur dreaded it was because the letter carrier probably dropped dead himself. Now this accursed melancholy had fallen upon his homeland and started to kill off the citizens of London one by one. It was a frightful thing for him to witness as he walked about the streets just a few days prior to the outbreak.

 

 

It was a glorious and beautiful day so calm in fact that perhaps it was a little too peaceful in some regards. One could believe that there would scarcely be a reason to fret or worry over something at all. However it was that beautiful day that whispers of a man within the closest street had become ill. This was not big news because people always got sick back then as the temperature shifted. Arthur stood near by and glanced idly over some wares a merchant was selling when he overheard a peculiar conversation.

 “The man I believe was said to have ghastly black marks on his legs.” A man spoke softly as if he were whispering inside a church. Arthur strained his ears to listen and moved closer to the two men without being conspicuous.

 “They say he is in such great agony and that it seems even his flesh is rotting right off his bones!” The other exclaimed in a excitable but hushed tone. Arthur moved away from them and lofted an eyebrow thinking over their words. Flesh rotting right off the bone? Why that was completely impossible unless the man was sitting in a tub of boiling hot water. Clearing his throat he decided to inquire more on the subject and walked over standing a few feet from them.

 “Flesh rotting off his bones you say? That does sound terribly dreadful but if I may ask how did you come about this information?”

 “His wife of course she was crying and going on about the state of his condition.” One of the men said looking over at Arthur. He nodded and walked away thinking over this shocking twist of events. An illness that could do such a thing to you, he wouldn’t believe it unless he saw it himself.

 

The times were already tumultuous to began with as a war had begun to erupt in France. Though Arthur could scarcely care less at times about the state of Francis this conflict seemed serious. At least the last time he had contact with the man Francis stated that a battle was beginning over the throne. The tone of his voice showed England that it was not going to be a quick nor a peaceful resolve either. King Edward III had gained allies and from what Arthur had become aware he promised them a handsome amount of money in return for their services. It was 1339 and the English-Flemish relations were becoming all the better when a man named Jacob van Artevelde secured his position in Flanders. The Flemings themselves were surely ready to join an anti-French coalition but, Arthur knew to many of his time to speak out against your king was a high crime. So now here he was lying in bed stricken will illness and now worrying over his health and home. Too hill was he to even think about setting foot in Parliament and he was beginning to sorely miss his job.

 The hours ticked onwards and he seldom even knew what the time was except the sky was darkening. Forcing himself to sit up his breathing became labored as he heaved over and coughed loudly. With a groan of discomfort he moved shakily and wearily from his bed to go and light a candle in his room before it became too dark. He breathed heavily out of his mouth, his nose had become completely stopped up. Finally lighting the candle he carefully sat it back down on the table and rubbed his eyes. This plague they were experiencing had begun to slowly cripple the war from what he had witnessed. It was mostly wreaking utter havoc on the mainland of Europe but, slowly and surely it began to creep it’s black hand of death around his homeland. Arthur sat in the dim room and rolled up the sleeve of his bed clothes looking at his pale skin. There were a few sores that had appeared on his arm and a few had even popped up on his leg.

 “Veneciano mentioned these weird lesions.” He said to himself examining them closely. Rather frightening looking if you asked him and his whole body was racked with pain. Like everyone else who was going through this living hell he was not even fully sure what was wrong with him. These large swollen bumps had painfully made themselves known under his arms and embarrassingly on his groin. He had witnessed, before his infection, that many of those infected gave off a terrible odor not unlike that of a decomposing body. Upon closer inspection however Arthur found those persons who were sick were in fact beginning to decay alive.

 

A chill went up his spine.

 

If this plague was spreading like a wildfire then who else did he know who was infected? His mind kept going back to poor Veneciano who must have been rolling in his bed in utter pain right now. England was not too sure why but he found that he felt more inclined to worry over him. Perhaps it was because the young man was barely able to defend himself most of the time, and he also seemed to do none too well with illness and suffering. That and the plague had begun from what he was led to believe in that area and the worst of it was there. Another bone rattling cough surged from his body and he doubled over. His stomach began to revolt against him and his eyes grew wide as he emptied it’s contents onto the floor. Disgusted by this involuntary act of dirtiness he leaned back against one of his tables practically knocking it over.

 “My god….my head….my….” He was barely able to make out words in his sudden delirium. The vomit on the floor was mixed heavily with blood and Arthur felt his stomach tighten. He reached his hand out pressing his palm onto the wall of the bedroom and slowly inched his way to the small water basin. There was little left and he used it to wash the vomit off his face and hands. Turning he started himself back towards his bed but his legs were weak and gave way under him as he crashed unceremoniously onto the floor. He let out a yelp and rolled over onto his side taking in deep breaths, his chest rattling, his breathing was wheezing and he felt like he could barely breathe.

 “I need…..please….something…someone…” Helplessly he began to speak to a force that would listen, anyone. Right now he would not even began to care if it were the devil himself! The cold draft in the room barely began to even affect him now as his eye lids grew heavy. Exhaustion from a whole day of coughing and vomiting had begun to take it’s toll on his tired mind. Soon a sort of unconscious state began to wash over him and he gladly welcomed the sleep as his world went black.