Anon’s caption: [i hope every hws ireland enjoyer rests well tonight we’ve been fed today (also i had to redraw quite a bit (particularly on the panel transparent) so if anything looks a bit odd apolocheese)]
Hey there! Here’s a preview of one of two illustrations I did for The World, a Hetalia fanzine featuring BIPOC creators! There’s lots of wonderful art there, and all proceeds will go to a charity dedicated to women’s education in Oaxaca, so if you can please make sure to have a look through the link here!
Summary: Based off the story ‘The Prince and the Pauper.’ Alfred is a prince who must sacrifice his freedom for the sake of his people, and along the way meets Matthew, a man who looks strikingly similar to the young prince. Will this single meeting change the future of the kingdom or will it become a small trifle of the prince’s life?
Characters: England, France, America, Canada, Scotland, Japan, Netherlands
Arthur paced the upstairs corridors endlessly, hands held in a firm grip behind his back. He’d been offered a seat at least a dozen times, a cup of tea nearly twice that. He politely declined each time with a wave of his hand. He hadn’t a clue how collected he looked to the servants, clearly not as much as he hoped if they all still hovered a little too closely. He brushed his fringe from his eyes for the umpteenth time. It was nearing sundown as he made his way onto the balcony that overlooked the sea. Taking in a deep breath of the salt air, he tried to relax his shoulders and put his mind at ease. He closed his eyes and listened to the waves crashing upon the rocks, the steady ebb and flow clearing his mind of worry. He only reopened his eyes when he heard a faint tapping on the glass paned door.
“Your Majesty.”
Francis, in all his frills, gave a flourished bow to which Arthur met with a nod of simple acknowledgment.
“Please, tell me the news is good.”
The man stood upright and pressed his forefinger to his bottom lip. Arthur waited impatiently for an answer, the slight hesitation was enough for him to know that all was not well. Something had gone amiss and Francis was mulling over the prettiest words he could use to describe whatever tragedy was likely upon them.
“I begin with the Queen is well. Her health is good, you needn’t worry about her a moment longer,” Francis’s voice was smooth as it always was. It was the kind of voice that sounded as if a portrait could speak. It set Arthur’s mind partially at ease.
So about two years ago I went to Franklin D. Rosevelt Library and Museum in New York state and drew this for one of the tour guides who was a fan of mine. I was backing up files when I re-found this and thought the fall colors would be a nice post.
