No one mourns the wicked. (No one?)

by Evilkat23

Summary:

Peter, Matthew, Tino, and Feliciano were kidnapped and brought to a world where they're not only still at war, but a world where it's dog-eat-dog. Where the weak will not survive. These versions of themselves being crazed and blood-hungry. They're separated and unsure how to get back home. Yet, they all slowly learn that not everyone in this world is as wicked as they seem However; they learn that those that are wicked are to be feared.

Feliciano, Tino, and Matthew all learn this the hard way, as they're all helped by the unexpected but hunted in return.

Notes:

Marius= Romania.
Sven= Ladonia.

"Why is Romania named Marius and not Vlad?" because way back in the day I named him Marius before I knew that the fandom named him 'Vlad' okay? Besides, I like Marius better.

Chapter 1: A mirror, three nations, and a birthday party

Notes:

A little fun fact about this story. This story was originally 3 separate stories that I realized I could mash together into one solid story.

It started simple. It started with a mirror. A mirror in the back of Arthur’s basement covered by a white sheet. A mirror that no matter how hard Arthur tried he just couldn’t get rid of. He tried. Obviously, this was not a normal mirror. Not if it was stuffed in Arthur’s basement. This mirror was a doorway, original right? But it’s the truth! It’s a doorway to, what Arthur can only presume to be, another universe. He would know, he nearly crossed it when the mirror first appeared. He didn’t buy the mirror, didn’t put a spell on it, no it just appeared one day in his basement. 

 

Arthur had always been a curious soul and so when this mirror just showed up; he couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t afraid, it was just a mirror. That’s what he was telling himself anyway as he approached and looked at himself and the mirror as a whole. 

 

It was a full length floor mirror on a stand. The stand and the border around the mirror was a beautiful dark cherry wood, what’s more it was a levon carving. Beautiful was the only word that could describe such a mirror. Arthur remembered feeling almost entranced by this mirror as he watched his own reflection get closer and closer. Arthur had thought about leaning in, to get a closer look at his reflection, but he didn’t make it to be this old for nothing. A more logical part of his mind had him stay a good two inches away from this new mirror; something that saved Arthur, no doubt. He reached for his reflection and watched as the surface started to ripple the closer his hand got. 

 

It had happened so fast, when his hand was just close enough another hand had suddenly reached out of the mirror and grabbed his wrist. Again, because Arthur had stood back, he was able to hop back and jerk out of the hand’s grip. However; because of how fast and quick Arthur jerked away he had tripped over his own feet and hit the ground. His breath hitched as he looked up at the mirror now. 

 

The once silver of the mirror had turned an inky black, but it was still just as reflective however; it wasn’t reflecting him . There stood… Well, Arthur wasn’t sure. It looked like him but at the same time not . There was something off about this reflection of himself that something being everything . His eyes were blue and his hair was too light, almost pink, his shirt an awful shade of pink, his whole outfit a weird pastel theme. Something Arthur would never wear. Not only that but this version of himself was smiling . He was smiling from ear to ear. It made Arthur reach up to touch his mouth just to make sure he wasn’t smiling that crazed smile. 

 

This weird version of himself then leapt to his feet and banged his fist against the mirror so hard that the surface rippled. This Arthur never dropped the smile as he continued to pound his fist against the mirror. 

 

Arthur let out a shivering breath from his spot on the ground as he stared at this weird version of himself. The hairs on his arms stood up as a shiver ran down his spine. Arthur’s breath hitched ever so slightly. He was looking at a dangerous being; he was very much aware of this fact as his whole body started to involuntarily tremble. 

 

Arthur was then on his feet in a second. He quickly took his jacket off and threw it over the mirror. Once it was covered… there was silence. It was like that interaction had never happened. His old heart was racing and he clutched at it with his hand as he doubled over. He knew he had to be rid of this mirror, that the universe, that version of him, was nothing but trouble. He tried to throw the mirror out, but a week later it was back in his basement. He immediately took a hammer to it when that blasted version of him had tried to snatch him again. A week later? You guessed it, it was fully repaired and waiting for him. So, in a last ditch effort, Arthur covered it. He covered it with an old sheet and tucked it away in the farthest corner of the room. 

 

Arthur would occasionally hear a hush whisper in his basement should he be alone, but that version of him apparently couldn’t do anything should the mirror be covered. Good.  

 

So, Arthur mistakenly thought that maybe that’d be the end of it. That he’d just never use the mirror and leave it to collect dust in his basement the years that followed. 

---

“Do I have to go to England’s birthday?” Peter half whined to Tino.

 

“Peter, we’ve discussed this. I get that England has his faults. I understand that you guys don’t get along, but he’s still your father.”

 

“England didn’t care when I sold myself on Ebay, why should I care about his birthday?” Peter grumbled as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

 

“We know, Peter, we know. We’re only going to be there for a few hours. So, relax, have some cake, and please remember to actually wish England a happy birthday.”

 

Peter let out a deep sigh. “Finnnne. Ladonia and Sweden got lucky.”

 

“More than you realize.” Tino whispered. Last year Berwald took Peter, now it’s Tino’s turn. Not only that but the duo used the randomizer wheel annnnd Tino lost. So now, here he was, in a car going down the lonely road in the England countryside. Tino had asked Ladonia if he wanted to come and that went about as well as one could imagine. 

 

Sven laughed. Sven laughed hard. Right in Tino’s face. He then paused to catch his breath, pointed at Tino, and laughed even harder. 

 

Tino wasn’t impressed in the slightest by that, but Sven made himself crystal clear and Tino could only respect that. So, now it was just Peter and him, but that was fine. As said, Tino was going to have some cake, make some small talk with England, give him a gift, and then leave. It was going to be a two hour deal, tops . Hopefully.

 

The rest of the car ride to England’s country home was rather quiet with begrudging silence from Peter in the back. ‘At least Norway will be there.’ Tino thought. He offered to carpool with Lukas, but was turned down as Lukas was actually going to be staying the week. Lukas and Marius both, in fact.

 

As they were pulling up to Arthur’s driveway Peter spoke for the first time in a while. “You know his favorite flavor is vanilla. Meaning it’s going to be a plain vanilla cake, no frosting because ‘it's too sweet’. For him.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It’s bland.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Like him.” 

 

“I’m aware.”

 

“And his cooking.”

 

“Yes, Peter.” 

 

Tino found a parking space and was pleasantly surprised to see that there were more than a few cars in the driveway. “Hey!” Peter suddenly visibly perked up. “Canada is here! Cool, maybe this won’t be so bad!”

 

Tino snorted. “Who?”

 

“Oh come on! You know Canada! America’s twin! My older brother!...Half brother because he’s also France’s son?”

 

“Uh…” Tino rubbed the back of his head. “ Sure . Whatever you say, Peter.” If Peter wanted an imaginary friend then Tino wasn’t going to stop him. 

 

Peter pouted at this as he undid his seatbelt. “You’ll see him when we get inside.” He then got out of the car and stretched his legs.

The UK was rather typical, rainy and cold. Peter groaned as he stretched his arms above his head and gave a yawn. “Okay, we’re here, can we go now.” 

 

“No, Peter,” Tino sighed at his son. Tino opened the backseat and grabbed Arthur’s present from the trunk. “C’mon.” He urged Peter towards the front door. “Maybe Wy will be here.”

 

“Wy?” That was a possibility. Australia would most likely be there and therefore so should Wy, if he opted to bring her that was. They approached the door and Tino rang the doorbell while Peter grumbled softly and kicked his foot against the front step. 

 

The door opened seconds later. “Ah, Tino!” Norway greeted. 

 

“ Moi !” Tino said as he smiled. Then he and Norway kissed each other on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you.” 

 

“Likewise, hello Peter.”

 

“Uncle Lukas. Where’s the old man?” 

 

“ Peter .” Tino hissed and gently nudged the back of Peter’s leg with his foot. “Behave.” 

 

Peter sighed softly and Lukas chuckled. “He’s in the kitchen. Come on in.” Lukas moved to the side to let them in. “Oh, Peter. There’s Bluey playing in the living room for you and the other micronations here.” Lukas told him. 

 

“ Bluey ? Do I look five ?” He could only ask. 

 

Lukas only shook his head. “Go on, Peter.”

 

He took his shoes off at the door and then walked fully into the house. 

 

Peter let out another sigh as he begrudgingly trudged his way into England’s home. He exhaled through his lips as he looked around for Arthur to wish him ‘Happy Birthday’. He didn’t see Arthur, but he did see Matthew!

 

“Matthew!” Peter dropped down an inch and Matthew got the hint immediately. He also dropped down an inch, there was a second, maybe two, before Matthew let out a playful roar and lunged for Peter. Peter let out a squeal as Matthew lifted him up like he weighed nothing. Peter let out a squeal of delight when Matthew started to turn around in circles. 

 

“How’re you doin’, frère? ” Matthew asked with a grin as he then put Peter over his shoulder. He held onto the back of Peter’s legs with his arm so Peter was now upside down. Peter let out a shrill cry at this and then giggled. His laughter only grew when Tino came into his field of vision, this time upside down. 

 

“Mama! It’s Matthew! This is Matthew!” Peter pointed upwards towards Matthew’s face. 

 

Tino blinked and then looked at Matthew. The confusion was evident across his face for a moment. “I’m sorry about him, Alfred.” Tino whispered as he then patted Matthew’s shoulder and walked towards the kitchen. 

 

Matthew huffed very audibly and then put Peter down. “Ah. I tried.” Peter said with a snap of his fingers. 

 

“That’s alright, Peter,” Matthew then ruffled Peter’s hair. “I’m used to it by now. I think Wy is in the living room if you want to go and catch up with her.”

 

“Aw, you can’t hang with me?” 

 

“Oh, I would but—”

 

“Mattie? C’mon dude, don’t leave me with all the work.” Came Alfred’s voice from the kitchen. 

 

“Coming!” Matthew called. “I’m busy. Maybe another time, okay, Squirt?” He told Peter and before Peter could respond Matthew vanished into the kitchen. 

 

Peter puffed his cheeks out before walking into the living room. If anything else he might as well enjoy the show, maybe Wy changed it from Bluey to something a little better. Well, no . Not only was Bluey very much playing but Wy wasn’t alone in watching it? 

 

Feliciano , a grown nation, was sitting on the couch, feet up on the cushions (shoes off, of course.), arms wrapped around his legs. His eyes were open as he stared at the TV. Wy, Wendy, was sitting next to him on the couch. She was completely engulfed by the show. “Hello.” Peter greeted them politely as he stepped into the living room and sat next to Feliciano. 

 

“Buongiorno, Sealand.” Feliciano greeted him warmly as he scooted over to give Sealand some more room. 

 

Peter put his hand to his cheek as he rested his elbow on the arm of the couch. “So… Bluey? ” He inquired after a second. 

 

Feliciano gave a weak and awkward laugh. “It’s rather funny, actually. I was just passing by to see if Wendy needed anything but then… I just couldn’t stop watching? It’s been like…ten episodes now. I’m sure Germany is fine setting up outside.” Feliciano laughed. 

 

“It’s addicting.” Wendy commented as she didn’t take her eyes from the screen. “I’ve watched every episode like three times. Not today, of course, at home.” 

 

“Hm.” Peter hummed and turned his attention towards the TV. Now, he will admit, the show was good ? It was clearly for little kids, but he found himself paying attention and enjoying it the same as the others. Still, after a while Peter felt his attention start to wane. He was maybe three episodes in and growing bored. “Where’s England? I suppose I should wish him a happy Birthday before I forget.” Peter jumped from the couch. 

 

“Kitchen, last I checked.” Feliciano responded as he pointed in the direction of the kitchen. “But that was twelve episodes ago.” 

 

Peter only nodded and wordlessly left the living room, leaving the duo to their show. However; he was sure Feliciano’s binge was done when he heard Ludwig’s yell of: “ There you are! Get up and help me!” 

 

“Ah! I’m sorry!” 

 

 Peter walked past Australia, who was carrying plates of food in his hands. “Hey, lil’ dude.” Australia greeted him warmly when Peter ducked under him. 

 

He walked down a small stretch of hallway. Really, it was small, maybe less than a foot from the hallway to the kitchen, but the stars aligned at that moment. Nobody was walking down this hallway, everyone was busy in the kitchen, or in Australia’s case, setting the table for a birthday lunch. So, color Peter curious when the basement door opened on its own right as he passed it. 

 

Peter stopped and walked a big step back. “England usually keeps this locked.” He commented to himself as he grabbed the door handle and peeked down the darkened room. No lights were on so all he saw was the void staring back at him. Curiosity tickled the back of his mind as he looked around. He saw nobody coming his way. He was in the clear and because of that he just couldn’t help himself. 

 

Peter opened the door a little more before he stepped down the first stairs. He then shut the door behind himself, not all the way, of course, he still needed some light, or else he’ll fall down the stairs. These stairs were old and rickety, probably about as old as Arthur was, no doubt. They had no backing to them either. So he really had to be careful. He walked step by step. The further down the steps and more into the darkness he got the more unsure he suddenly became about all of this. 

 

The basement smelt like it hadn’t been dusted in centuries. It also felt stifling, telling Peter that the AC did not run down here.  Peter was getting to the point that he couldn’t see what little light he allowed himself to have was long gone past the third or fourth step.. Why did the lightbulb had to be at the bottom of the stairs? Who thought that was ever a good idea?

 

Still, after nearly falling on the last step and nearly giving himself a heart attack because of it, Peter made it to the bottom. The floor of the basement was made with thick concrete, and so were the walls and ceiling. He knew this because his footsteps echoed all around him and left him feeling exposed and vulnerable to whatever creepy crawlies could be down here. 

 

As mentioned, this place was almost always locked and Peter was never ever allowed down here. So he just couldn’t turn this down. He had to see what Arthur had locked away down here. He had to. 

 

Peter jumped when something long and thin hit his face. It nearly made him scream, thinking he had stepped right into a spider's web however; he quickly realized it was the string to the light bulb and he clicked it. 

 

The basement was illuminated by a bright bulb and Peter let out a sharp breath at what he was seeing, and more importantly what he was standing on. A pentagram. He was standing right on a pentagram. “Whoa…” He breathed and stepped off of the pentagram. “Who knew stuffy ol’ Britain was into the occult?” He spoke to himself as he looked at all the basement had to offer.  

 

He saw books, old, and leather bound on the shelf. There were jars filled with mysterious liquids on another shelf just below the one with the books. A giant table that Peter walked up to. This table had scribes and tomes. On this table was some sort of… alchemy station? Peter wasn’t sure about that, but still, it looked so cool as he looked through a glass vial in amazement. 

 

‘Peter…’ 

 

Peter perked up and looked around the basement immediately. The skin on the back of his neck started to prickle and he swallowed hard; his throat feeling dry all of a sudden. 

 

‘Peter!’ He heard this voice a little more clearly. It was sharp and to the point. Peter looked around to where that voice could be coming from. He felt on edge as he couldn’t find the source. 

 

‘Over here, Peter.’ The voice was husky; nothing more than a whisper. It beckoned Peter towards it, commanding his attention. The more logical part of Peter’s mind was telling him that he should turn around and run, but there was something so… enticing about that voice.

 

‘I’ll recognize you as the nation you were meant to be. You just have to do something for me.’ 

 

Peter continued to look around, but he just didn’t see anyone. “Where are you?” He felt silly, well, in all reality he felt like he was losing his mind. He didn’t expect the voice to answer him. 

 

But it did . 

 

‘The mirror.’ 

 

The-? 

 

Peter did a quick sweep around the room and at first he didn’t see any sort of mirror. Yet, on his second look around, he realized how he missed it. The mirror was wrapped up in a sheet so it was covering the whole thing. The sheet had a cord around the middle so the sheet wouldn’t accidentally dislodge. “This mirror?”

 

“Yes.” The voice was stronger now. So strong that there was no mistaking it for anything other than a voice. The voice was weird . It almost sounded like Arthur’s own voice, only slightly higher and a little more…erm… deranged ? For lack of a better word. 

 

That little voice in the back of Peter’s mind was telling him to turn around and high-tail it out of there. Yet, that little voice was drowned out by the pure curiosity that hung in the air. The curiosity that overpowered Peter and made him reach for the cord around the mirror. The knot Arthur used was a simple knot that came undid with a simple pull of the string. Once freed the cord fell to the floor. 

 

“Who are you?” Peter found himself asking as he grabbed the sheet but didn’t pull it down just yet. 

 

“A friend, Peter. A friend that wants to help you, but first you need to help me.”

 

“How can I help you?”

 

“Just lower the sheet, my boy. I want to see you.” 

 

Peter hesitated for just a moment… Then he removed the sheet to look at the mirror and all it had to offer. Immediately he was disappointed when all he saw was his own reflection back at him. 

 

“Bah!” 

 

Peter let out a short scream when a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder from the side, so he didn’t see them coming. He tried to wriggle away from the grip, but the owner of the hand pulled him in with a laugh. “Sorry, sorry, it’s me. It’s me .” Matthew reassured Peter. “What are you doing down here? You know Arthur doesn’t like us down here.” 

 

“I— The door was open and I just…” He looked at Matthew. “Canada, I thought…” Peter let out a scared and shaky laugh. “I thought someone was talking to me through the mirror!” He laughed a little louder. “But it was just you , what a relief!”

 

“What?—”

 

“ Ve~ I heard a scream? Is somebody hurt?” Feliciano inquired as he started to step down the stairs rather quickly. 

 

“ Non ! I was just here to collect Peter, we’re actually not allowed to be down here. This is England’s personal room.” Matthew explained. 

 

“Ve ~” Feliciano looked around and immediately looked on edge. As in his hair visibly bristled as a giant shiver ran down his spine. “I’d say. This place gives me the creeps.” Feliciano stopped at the pentagram on the floor and made it a point to take one big step around such a sigil. “I heard a scream?”

 

“Me.” Peter admitted. “Mattie scared me. Talking to me like he was in the mirror.”

 

“Peter, that wasn’t me.” Matthew’s voice grew concerned as he raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Peter?!” Tino was next as he poked his head in the basement next. “I heard you scream? Are you okay?” Tino was a lot faster down the steps than Feliciano. Tino didn’t look at a thing as he made a bee-line for Peter and the other adults. 

 

“I’m okay, Mama.” Peter whispered. “I…Let’s get out of here?” He asked. The temperature of the basement felt like it dropped about twenty degrees and he suddenly didn’t feel okay with being down here. 

 

“Yeah, the food is ready anyways.” Tino sighed and the three of them all turned their heels, ready to go upstairs and enjoy the party—

 

The door to the basement slammed shut with a resounding ‘thwack! ’ through the basement that echoed all around them. 

 

“Oh, Tabarnak !” Matthew gasped as he was the first one to try and run up the stairs. “Wait! We’re still here!” He called whoever had shut the door. He made it to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. “Hey! This isn’t funny!” Matthew continued to turn the knob all while pounding on the door. 

 

Peter suddenly felt very afraid and he wasn’t alone either as Feliciano started to shake. Peter and Feliciano both migrated towards one another, with Feliciano wrapped both of his arms around Peter for comfort. 

 

“Somebody open this door!” Matthew yelled, well, yell was a light word. Leave it to Tino to properly yell louder than Matthew as he too raced towards the stairs. 

 

“ Helvetti ! This isn’t funny!” Tino was a lot louder as he was pounding his fist against the door. Thankfully, that did garner someone’s attention. 

 

“Tino? What are you doing in there?!” Lukas sounded alarmed. 

 

“It’s not just me! Peter, Feli, and Alfred are in here as well! The door is locked! Tell Arthur to unlock this thing!” Tino all but demanded, ignoring the sideways glance Matthew was giving him. 

 

“Uh- yeah! Just give me a moment!” 

 

That wasn’t good enough for Tino as the moment Norway ran off he continued to try and turn the knob. 

 

“Arthur isn’t the only one with magic, you know?” The new voice in the basement made everyone stop what they were doing. Feliciano let out a scared whine and held Peter a little tighter. 

 

“Matt? You in there?” Came Alfred’s concerned voice from the other side. “Norway said the door was stuck? And that I was in there for some reason?” 

 

Matthew didn’t answer his twin as he turned. For a moment his face was unreadable from the top of the stairs, until Peter was able to make out the horror that slowly started to etch itself across his face. 

 

“Mattie?” Came Alfred again. 

 

“What the hell is that !?” Matthew screamed in horror and Peter realized that Matthew was looking behind him. Slowly, oh so slowly, Peter and Feliciano both turned to face the mirror. 

 

Tendrils, black as the night, were growing along the sides of the mirror, trying to escape their confines. “Up the stairs, now!” Feliciano, though terrified and now sobbing , urged Peter away from the mirror. “Hurry!” 

 

It was too late, however, at that moment tendrils shot out from the other side of the mirror, one grabbed Peter’s ankle and the other wrapped around Feliciano’s neck. Two others shot passed them and one grabbed Tino by the arms, while the last one attached to Matthew’s right leg. 

 

Everyone was screaming in terror now as they were all being dragged. Tino and Matthew were thrown off the steps. Matthew hit his tailbone non too gracefully, while Tino face planted with no way to brace himself. 

 

Peter let out a wail as he tried to claw the ground. “Let go of me, you wanker! Let go! Somebody help me!” 

 

“ Ludwig!” Feliciano all but wailed as he kicked against the ground and thrashed while trying to fight off the tendril around his neck. “ Germany! Help me! Get off of me! Get off of me! ” Tears were streaming down the Italian’s face as they were the closest and thus nearing the mirror faster than the other two. 

 

“Tabarnak! ” Matthew managed to grab onto the lowest stair, because they had no backing he was able to wrap both arms around it. “Get off!” He tried to kick the tendril off, but it had no effect as it pulled and tugged, but Matthew was holding strong. “Arthur! Dad! ” Matthew wailed. “ Dad! ” He tried again, this time his voice sounding more akin to Alfred’s. 

 

The door was moving, it was clear that someone, or everyone, was trying to open it from the otherside. Trying to kick it down or break it down. 

 

Tino, much like Matthew, had managed to grab on to the table that Peter was looking at earlier and was trying to stop himself from being kidnapped by the mirror. The only difference was that Tino had held on to the leg of the table with his hand. His grip was strong, yes, but it wasn’t that strong and so, unlike Matthew he was unable to hold on and resumed being dragged along the floor. 

 

Matthew suddenly let out a pained scream. Not one from terror, but for pure unadulterated pain. Peter, in his scramble could very well see why. His leg was still moving even though he wasn’t. It was clear that whoever was doing this wasn’t going to let go or stop and because of that something probably dislocated in Matthew’s leg. This forced Matthew to let go of the step if he wanted to keep his leg. 

 

Finally, the door was broken in a flash of multi-colored light and fresh light streamed into the basement. 

 

There was an outcry of many voices as people rushed to aid them. It was too late, however. Peter was the first to be shoved through the mirror. He remembered reaching for his uncle Lukas with all his might before he was suddenly looking at him through the mirror. Peter was freed from the tendrils and he rushed for the mirror. He pounded on it, screaming his little heart out as he tried to reach the others. 

 

Feliciano screamed and wailed as he kicked against the floor, his desperation palpable. He reached for Ludwig, who was running full speed towards him. “Hang on!” Ludwig all but yelled, but it was too late for him as well. Much like Peter he was dragged through. 

 

“Ludwig!” Feliciano wailed as he watched Ludwig’s form through the mirror a second. Unlike Peter, Feliciano did not stay in front of the mirror as he was suddenly dragged through the darkness, unsure as to where he’d end up. Maybe it was the fear, maybe it was something else, but Feliciano would pass out before he would see his new destination for himself. 

 

Tino was the next one through the mirror. He, like Peter had reached for Lukas, Lukas was reaching for him just the same. “Hang on, I got you!” Lukas had yelled as he tried to lunge for Tino, but it did no good and Tino was through the mirror, on the other side. 

 

“Peter!” He watched in horror as his son did not move with him and instead he, like Feliciano, was flung. Flung through an encroaching darkness that never seemed to end. Tino gasped as all of the air left his lungs at that moment. As he felt weightless. Then, his eyes would roll up and he would pass out. 

 

Last was Matthew. Matthew, who had held on to that final step for dear life. Matthew who had dislocated his knee in an attempt to stay. Matthew, who had managed to grab Arthur’s hand when his father reached for him. “You’re not taking my son! ” Arthur screamed at the mirror as he tried to hold his ground. Whoever had made these tendrils was tenacious as they continued to tug on Matthew’s leg. 

 

Alfred ran and grabbed Matthew’s other hand. “Hang on, Mattie!” Alfred yelled as he managed to hold his ground just the same. 

 

“ Your son?” That voice was back, cold, and cruel now. “Your son?!” Matthew let out another one of those pained screams when his leg popped yet again. The pain exploded all the way down his right leg as this entity wasn’t giving up. “No. That simply won’t do. You’ve done a terrible job of raising him. He, like Peter, is mine! ” 

 

There was a mighty force and Matthew was yanked so hard that his hands were jerked out of both Arthur’s and Alfred’s grips. Arthur and Alfred hid the ground together because of this. Matthew hit the ground face first and his glasses, Quebec , went flying off of his face at this moment. He tried to claw at the ground, to stop himself. Others ran to him, Australia being one of them, reaching for him, to try and save one of them if possible. 

 

It wasn’t. Like the others, Matthew went through the mirror. “Dad! Don’t let them take me!” He remembered wailing for his parental figure in that split moment before he was yanked through the mirror. He met the same fate as Feliciano, the same fate as Tino, as he too continued to fly through the darkness, while Peter stayed in front of that mirror, banging on it, praying to be let out. 

 

Unlike Tino, and Feliciano, however, Matthew managed to stay awake long enough to see where he was being flown to. Well, it shouldn’t surprise him, but it was a mirror. That’s where Feliciano and Tino went as well. Not the same mirror, of course, but through a mirror. A mirror to somewhere . Where was that somewhere? He wouldn’t know as when he crossed into the new mirror he would hit his head on something hard. A wall and and he would promptly passed out. 

 

Peter all but screamed as he banged on the mirror with both of his fists. He could see them, he knew they could see him, so why couldn’t they do anything. Arthur, Lukas, and Marius all had their hands on the mirror, trying to get to him, trying to cross to the other side. Peter let out a wail as tears streamed down his cheeks. “Let me out! Let me out! Let me—” 

 

A hand slipped around his mouth, silencing him. “Shush…” A new hand caressed his hair. 

 

Peter froze. His whole body felt as cold and as rigid as the steel that made his ship. He let only his eyes move up towards this person that had him. 

 

It looked like… Arthur . Only different . Different hair, different eyes, different clothes, different everything . His hair was a light shade of blonde that almost looked pink in the light. His eyes a cerulean blue that just looked wrong . “There we go, Poppet. You don’t need them anymore.” This new Arthur told Peter. He kept his hand firmly over Peter’s mouth, not allowing him to speak. 

 

Arthur, the real Arthur, was pounding on the mirror so hard that it was starting to crack. He was yelling, but much like earlier, with the man behind the mirror, the man Peter now realized was this weird different Arthur, it sounded far away. 

 

‘Give them back! Give them back! Don’t touch him!’ 

 

Peter was crying, but he couldn’t cry out. It was like his windpipes were closed, like he became mute. 

 

“You don’t need to worry about them anymore, Poppet. You have me now.” The fake Arthur started to lead Peter away from the mirror. Peter didn’t struggle , persay, but he didn’t go willingly. No, he let his step falter as he gave the real Arthur one last pleading look for help. 

 

‘Give them back!’ Arthur’s voice was fading as Peter was now being forcefully dragged away from the mirror. Dragged into the darkness of this new basement. 

 

“We’re going to have such a great time! It’s my birthday, don’t you know?”

 

‘Peter!... Matthew!....Feliciano!....Tino!’ 

 

Peter let out a muffled sob behind the hand. “None of that love!” The fake Arthur encouraged as he made a motion with his free hand. A motion for Peter to smile. 

 

The smile just looked so… wrong … 

 

‘Peter!...ᴾᵉᵗᵉʳ!’ 

 

“Now, where are my manners? You may call me, Oliver.” Oliver said as he looked down at Peter, but didn’t remove his hand from Peter’s mouth. “Of course, I don’t need your name! You’re Peter Kirkland! My son!” Oliver gleefully said. “My little boy! Oh, this’ll be so fun! You’ll get to meet your new brothers and sisters! And we’ll be one big happy family, I know James will just love you! And Alan! Oh my darling Alan, don’t let him scare you too much, he’s all bite no bark! Nathan might have some issues with you, however, but that’s okay! Nothing I can’t fix, of course! Nathan has jealousy issues when it comes to me, but worry not! There’s enough of me to go around! I love all of my children! And now I have two more! Isn’t that just great!? Though… Francois may have an issue with this…”

 

Peter felt like he was having a nightmare. Maybe he was? Maybe he fell asleep in the car? Or—or he fell asleep watching Bluey with Feliciano and Wendy! He’ll wake up in front of the TV and have himself a nice slice of plain vanilla cake with no frosting! Yeah, it’ll be bland, but that’s okay, that’ll be okay because he wouldn’t be here ! Right?

 

When Oliver opened the door to the basement. When that bright light hit Peter’s face and he got a look at Oliver’s house, he realized this was not a nightmare, this wasn’t a dream. This was real . He wasn’t going to have unfrosted vanilla cake. He wasn’t going to wake up to Bluey playing on the TV. 

 

None of it. He was stuck here. Him, Matthew, Feliciano, and Tino. 

The noise that left Arthur’s mouth was nothing short of a wail as he sank to his knees in front of his mirror. The mirror that was now cracked and suddenly useless . Arthur couldn’t look at anyone as he kept his head bowed.  He wanted to say something, anything, but what could he say ? 

 

Sorry, looks like they’re all gone! 

 

What’s that, Ludwig? You were going to propose to Feliciano properly this time? No, sorry, Mate, he’s gone off to another dimension. No, I don’t know how to get him back. 

 

Alfred? You and Matthew were going to go skiing in December? Welp, you’re out of luck. You’re no longer a twin, it seems. 

 

Lukas, you want me to write Sweden an apology note that Tino and Peter are gone? I can do that!

 

No, Arthur wasn’t going to do that. It wasn’t in his nature to do that. He was a stubborn old brit, after all. He just…didn’t know what to do ! He never messed with this mirror except for the one time. 

 

Arthur then looked at his own reflection in the mirror. He thought back to Peter’s terrified expression when that version of Arthur approached. How scared Peter had looked. How scared Matthew, Tino, and Feliciano undoubtedly are right now. 

 

“...Marius? Lukas?” He asked his two oldest friends and he was met with a one on the right shoulder, Lukas, and a hand on the left shoulder, Marius. “...Help me get this blasted thing in my living room where the light is better.” He demanded with a snarl as he rose to his feet. “We’re getting them all back even if it’s the last thing I do.” 

Chapter 2: Leonard

Notes:

So, I am taking a few liberties here with the 2p's. I do like some aspects but dislike others so I'm changing them up.

 

“So, let me get this straight! This mirror just showed up in your house one day—” Liam, Australia, stated as he followed Arthur around. 

 

“Yep.” Arthur grumbled as he, Lukas, and Marius were getting the ritual ready. The mirror was in the center of the living room, all of the furniture moved out of the way and against the walls to make room for the ritual sight. Lukas had run to the store to get the spray paint as Arthur’s living room floor was carpet and couldn’t be lifted for this. So, spray paint, not exactly traditional or orthodox, but it should still work. 

 

“—and you kept it in your basement for how long?” Liam inquired as he continued to follow Arthur’s every step. 

 

“Uh… seventy years?”

 

“Since the fifties!?” 

 

“I tried to get rid of it, Liam! The blasted thing kept coming back!” Arthur stopped briefly to turn to Liam. Arthur’s voice may have gone up a pitch or two as he left his mask slip for just a moment.  “The blasted thing kept coming back no matter what I did to it! So, I shoved it in my basement! It was never supposed to see the light of day!”

 

“But you knew… You knew that wacky version of you was in there?” Alfred asked from the couch. Alfred was sitting next to Ludwig. 

 

Ludwig had his elbows on his knees, head in one hand, he looked deep in thought and like he didn’t want to be disturbed as he shook his right leg up and down vigorously. His jaw was clearly clenched and his brow furrowed. 

 

Alfred was sitting upright, his elbows were also on his knees, in his right hand was Quebec. The glasses had cracked on the right side where Matthew had hit the ground. 

 

“I met him, yes. He didn’t speak, if I recall, he tried to pull me in but I managed to slip his grasp. If I had to guess? He opened the door to the basement, no doubt. How? I don’t know, his magic must be strong if he can do all of that without leaving the confines of the mirror.” Arthur shook his spray paint can a few times, the marble inside jiggling with this movement with a loud clack, clack, clack! 

 

“How bad is it on the other side of that mirror?” Ludwig finally asked, he didn’t lift his head from his hand as he spoke.  “How much trouble is Feliciano in? Tino and Matthew can take care of themselves, but Feli…you guys know how he is.” 

 

That they did.

 

“I can’t answer that. I’ve never been on the other side.” Arthur admitted. “I can’t imagine it’s good if that twisted version of me lives there. “But don’t worry, I think with Marius, Lukas, and I, we may be able to reopen the doorway… hopefully .” Arthur whispered that last part as he went back to spray painting the floor. The smell of spray paint was sharp as it hung in the air. 

 

A few moments passed with nobody speaking as they all watched the trio. They did seem to know what they were doing as they made quick works of the sigils along the carpet. These sigils surrounded the mirror that was in the center of the floor. 

 

“Done on my end.” Marius said as he stood up and then put a hand on his back. “Man, that hurts…”

 

“Tell me about it…” Lukas groaned and rubbed at the back of his neck as he too stood up straight. 

 

“I don’t want to hear it from either of you, chaps.” Arthur then grimaced visibly as he tried to relieve the pain in his neck by moving it from side to side, to try and get that satisfying ‘crack’ he desperately needed. “We’re still young!”

 

They were the oldest nations in the room, but that was beside the point. 

 

“Okay,” Arthur grabbed his cloak and then proceeded to hand Lukas and Marius their own respective ones as well. “Let’s see if we can open this thing up and get our friends back, yeah?” He asked as he got down on the floor and touched the dried sigils along his floor. 

 

“Do I need to get a goat for this? Or will a chicken do just fine?” Alfred asked and Arthur looked over his shoulder at his son. 

 

“No animal sacrifice is required.” Arthur grunted while he moved his hood up to cover his face. “Are you ready?” He asked Lukas and Marius and both nodded. 

 

“With the three of us that portal is as good as open!” Marius exclaimed. 

 

The three of them all touched the floor at once. First, there was silence as everyone was watching the trio with wide eyes. Nothing seemed to be happening and Alfred was the first to sigh loudly as he leaned back into the couch. “Might as well get comfy.” He grumbled. Alfred then looked at Quebec in his hands and flipped the glasses a few times in his hands. “Mattie… We’re going to get you back, I promise.”

 

When it seemed like nothing was going to happen at all did the sigils slowly start to light up. Alfred watched in amazement as the sigils matched the color of the person. Red for Marius, Cyan for Lukas, and a deep green for Arthur. The sigils weren’t aligned to one person as a sigil by Lukas would turn red, but the sigil in front of Arthur turned Cyan. The glowing wasn’t bright, but that could be because it was the middle of the day after all. Regardless, the glow was still there and more than that when every sigil was lit did the magic start to slowly creep upwards. 

 

“Steady, lads…” Arthur’s voice grew worse than moments before. His form gave the smallest of shakes but he held himself strong as he focused solely on the mirror. As he looked at his own reflection in front of him. 

 

Magic filled the room quickly; it made the air borderline suffocating and electric all at once. Their respective magic started to intertwine with one another as it rose in the air. Then, like a rocket it took off towards the mirror. The magic became one as their color intermeshed and became multicolored as it flew towards the mirror. 

 

It slammed into the mirror full force; the multicolored magic immediately dying out upon contact as it didn’t even leave a spark behind. 

 

“Did it work?” Ludwig inquired as he stood quickly from the couch. He looked ready to approach, to reach for the mirror himself, but Alfred and Liam were both quick to stop him. 

 

“Wait.” Arthur demanded as he stood. “And don’t step into the circle unless we deem it okay.” He rubbed at his lower back and tried to keep his face stoic as he approached the mirror first. His own reflection was visible. He had a light sheen of sweat along his brow that he quickly tried to wipe away. 

 

Arthur looked at his reflection once more as he half-expected that other version of him to show up. He didn’t. So, Arthur reached and touched the mirror. His hand touched glass. “Shit.” He cursed. “That was an opening gateway ritual we did, it should have worked! What went wrong? Was it the spray paint?”

 

“Maybe.” Lukas hummed. “Then again, the ritual is only used for opening locked doors, it could be the mirror itself.”

 

“The mirror is a door! It has to be!” Arthur argued as he kept his hand on the glass.

 

‘Hohoho…’  

 

Then soft laughter rang through the room that made everyone stand up to attention. Liam grabbed Alfred’s arm when Alfred nearly crossed the circle.  

 

Then Arthur’s deranged doppelganger appeared in the mirror. He was looking rather smug as he giggled behind his hand. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have any defenses in place?” 

 

Arthur snarled visibly. “You.”

 

“Me!” He opened his arms widely. “I can give you gits some credit for trying, but in terms of magic I am superior to you, Artie, I’m afraid.”

 

“Give me back my sons and friends,”

 

“Friends ? Are you talking about little Italy and Finland?” Oliver inquired. There was a look in those baby blue eyes that sent a chill down everyone’s eyes. “Oh, I have plans for them. Plans so they won’t make back here.”

 

“What have you done to them!?” Ludwig demanded as he, like Alfred, would have crossed that stupid circle, but was stopped by Liam and Marius respectfully. “If you hurt Feliciano—”

 

“Oh, nonono, I’m not going to do anything to the little titch.” Oliver clarified. “No, but Luciano?” He laughed loudly. It was a laugh that sent shivers down everyone’s spine. “Your little Feliciano will be lucky to make it out of that house with all ten of his fingers and toes intact.” 

 

Ludwig growled and immediately started to struggle against Marius and Liam’s grasps. 

 

“Do you want to know the funny thing about Luciano? He put’s a tough face, and he is quite the formidable foe. He’s fast and agile, but he’s also fragile. He always has been mentally. Just one little push is all he needs and he’ll just… crumble .” Oliver opened his palm and the image of a house of cards falling showed before all of them. “Tell me, how do you think he’ll act when he sees another version of himself? The version of himself that he nearly became? I don’t think he’ll take well to little Feli, not in the slightest.” Then Oliver waved his hand and the image vanished. Oliver then laughed again as he picked up a tea cup and sipped from it.

 

Alfred was up now. Alfred came up to the circle but didn’t cross it. “If any one gets hurt, I’m coming through that mirror myself to kick your ass and save them. Do you hear me, you fucking freak.”

At being called a ‘freak’ Oliver’s cup suddenly broke in his hand. The cup had shattered as it was clear that he had gripped it too tightly. “America, you’re acting out without your brother.” Oliver then gave his hand a little shake. It was clear that he was bleeding in a couple places as the blood started to slowly bead down his hand and wrist. “Why don’t you come over here and we can be a happy family?” 

 

“You know what? Go ahead—”

 

“Alfred!” Arthur immediately pushed his son back. “Knock it off.”

 

“No! Take me! And when I cross to the other side, see what I won’t do to you!” Alfred all but screamed at Oliver. “I’ll kick your ass from here to next sunday, don’t fucking test me!”

 

“...” Oliver starred in the mirror. His eyes were completely emotionless as he just continued to stare at Alfred.  “So naughty. I knew you didn’t raise your boys right. They get away with anything and everything, but worry not. I will raise Matthew correctly, it is never too late to learn. But that being said : You, Alfred.” Oliver pointed at Alfred. “Would not lay a finger on me.”

 

“Wanna test it!”

 

“No, you see, I raised my boys right . More specifically my America. Oh my little Alistair… so nice, so sweet to his father. So… protective .” As Oliver spoke. “You wouldn’t touch me before he got to you. That being said, as much as I would love two Americas the same as I now have two Canadas, I can’t take you with me. I used a bit of my power earlier and it’s going to take a while for me to recover. Regardless; you’re not going to get that mirror opened. I made it special and with the way things are going, I doubt you’ll ever get it open.” Oliver then suddenly turned his way from them. His eyes narrowed greatly as he stared. “Have fun, I must go, I don’t think Peter is taking a liking to his new room.”

 

“Wait—” Arthur tried to stop him as he tapped the glass with his hand, but it did little. “Whatever.” He huffed as he pulled his hand back and looked at it. “I read what little magic he used to open the mirror at least to look and talk to us.”

 

“And?” Marius inquired. “How bad is it?”

 

“He’s right. We’re not going to open it, at least not easily.” Arthur continued to stare at his hand. “He has it closed, what’s more, he’s smart.” 

 

Ludwig asked the question. “How smart are we talking?” 

 

“... If I’m reading this magic right, the gateway is closed until those taken are within proximity of the mirror. This tells me he flung Feliciano and Tino back to their respective lands in an attempt to keep them far away. He doesn’t expect them to make it back to his home…” Arthur rubbed his face as he sat down on the couch. 

“Oh, that’s… that’s not good.” Lukas whispered as he sat next to Arthur. Marius came up to them just the same. He didn’t sit, but he did lean against the side of the couch. “What are we going to do? We can’t just leave them there, Arthur, you heard Oliver, Feliciano won’t survive.” 

 

“...” Arthur stayed quiet as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. At his slumped form on the couch, and his rather defeated looking face. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a second. Then, he looked at Alfred’s reflection. Alfred who was looking at Matthew’s glasses. Then an idea struck him as he sat up. “What if… we trick it?” He inquired as he continued to stare at Matthew’s glasses. 

 

“Trick it? How?” Ludwig inquired. 

 

“It needs Peter, Feliciano, Matthew, and Tino in the same area to open?” Arthur got up and took the glasses from Alfred. “Then we can do that! What’s more we need more people! We need Lovino, we need Denmark, maybe Sweden, maybe—”

 

“Slow down, you’re not making sense.” Alfred put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Explain your plan in detail, what are you thinking?” 

 

Arthur looked at everyone, all eyes were on him, and he lifted Matthew’s glasses up. “I’m thinking if we have an object from that person, or something with their DNA, then we can trick the mirror into thinking they’re here so the mirror can open.” 

 

“Okay, but why do we need to involve others?” Norway asked. 

 

“Failsafe, if objects or hair don’t work, then we fall back on DNA. Lovino is Feliciano’s brother; they share DNA; the same with Denmark and Finland. Not only that but… I think they deserve to know that their loved one is missing, don’t you think? Which is why we should get Sweden involved. He’s missing both Tino and Peter.” 

 

“You…you don’t want to get Lovino involved with this, trust me.” Ludwig tried to say. 

 

“You’re right… I don’t, but I have to and so do you.” Arthur told Ludwig and then he patted the man on the shoulder. “It’s the right thing to do regardless.”

 

Ludwig would coincide. “ Ja, you’re right.” and he would turn with his phone in his hand. “I’ll see if Feliciano left something in the car. If not, I guess I’ll have Lovino bring something down.”

 

“That would be wise.” Arthur agreed. He then looked back at the mirror as their group dispersed for the time being. Alfred was also looking at the mirror. He said nothing as he raised his right hand up, mimicked a gun, and ‘pow!’ with his mouth. Arthur knew it wasn’t the mirror he was mimicking shooting, but rather the deranged man on the other side.

 

“Luciano has always been so fragile.” Arthur wasn’t sure what Oliver meant by that, but for Feliciano’s sake, he hoped that Feliciano had already managed to get away. Feliciano was fast and agile just the same as ‘Luciano.’ but still…

 

He was worried. Not just for Feliciano, but for all of them.

---

Leonard, ‘Leon’, Beilschmidt was a simple man. A very simple man. He was happiest when he had beer in his belly, and whenever Luciano so much as looked at him. He didn’t care if the look was one of contempt or of apathy. So long as he garnered Luciano’s attention it was a good day in his book! 

 

Well, unfortunately for him, on this particular day Luciano was out of his house, and alas, there was no beer to be found. So, Leon had decided to leave for a minute to go and get some. Yes, beer wasn’t the healthiest thing, and Leon wasn’t as strong as he could have been because of how much he drank, and yes, Luciano often made some remarks on his weight because of it, but Leon didn’t mind. 

 

“Kuro, I’m leaving.” He told the nation of Japan. 

 

“Do I look like I care?” Kuro responded bluntly from his spot on Luciano’s couch. “Get out of here and leave me alone.” Kuro waved him off then and Leon turned and left. 

 

After the forties it was decided that they, Luciano, Leon, and Kuro, would move in together to make strategizing and training a lot easier on the three of them. Naturally, they moved in with Luciano as Luciano wouldn’t have it any other way. Nobody disagreed or put up much of a fight. It was… well… 

 

Leon wouldn’t call it a ‘home.’ per-say. Luciano wasn’t exactly the homey type. His brother, Flavio, maybe and that was a big maybe. According to Spain, Flavio had a very spoiled mindset. Regardless: Luciano just wanted what was best for them and was keeping them protected by keeping Kuro and Leon in his home. So, Leon was at least thankful for that. 

 

Though he did often miss his home of Germany, yet Luciano didn’t want him going back. “You don’t need that plot of land anymore.” Luciano had told Leon rather bluntly. “Just let me deal with it and don’t worry that simple head of yours.”

 

That was true. Leon was a simple man and would do anything for Luciano, no matter the task. 

 

Leon got his coat on and was out the door. If there was one thing he really loved about Luciano’s home was that it was in the heart of Rome and near all the shops. So he knew he wouldn’t be gone long. He just hoped the shop would be open today. There had been fighter jets spotted earlier today and that’s more than enough to send people into their homes. This was evident as the streets of Rome were bare. Not a soul to be seen. 

 

It made walking to the nearest store rather easy for Leon. It was so quiet that Leon could hear the sound of his shoes scraping against the sidewalk and he could hear the local birds fluttering around above his head. Leon watched the birds for a moment before continuing on his journey.  He would make it to the first store with no problems and as he thought. Locked. Yeah, the fighter jets do that. 

 

“Pfbt.” He exhaled rather bitterly as he leaned against the door. He looked up at the sky. He didn’t see any jets, personally, but it didn’t mean there weren’t any out there. If they were lucky they weren’t fighter jets but just spying jets. Jets that fly and see how Rome is doing today, to see if they were planning anything. Luciano was planning something, but whatever it was he and Kuro kept Leon out of it. That was pretty typical in all reality. Leon was only ever used if he absolutely needed to be. Regardless; Leon needed beer. 

 

“I guess I’ll try the other store up the way, but they don’t have the beer I like.” Leon grumbled and scratched at his head. He’d just have to make do with a different beer. Italian beer wasn’t bad, it was just too sweet for Leon’s taste and tasted too much like hops, but if he wanted beer he just had to make do. The good thing about this store was that the owner was almost always there, rain, shine, threats of bombs the shop owner was almost always there. Only once was the man in the store not there and that was during the last bombings from America. The man’s son died and he took a month off to mourn. Then, when the month was over, he was back behind the counter. 

 

Leon shoved his hands in his pockets as he made the trek to the next store. This, unfortunately, left him alone with his thoughts a little longer than he liked. Even though Luciano often liked to joke “There’s not a single thought behind those pretty blue eyes, is there?” Leon had thoughts, there just weren’t many and often kept back with the aid of beer. In fact, he had thoughts right now as he stared up at the sky again. It was a cloudless and a bright blue day. A beautiful day, if you don’t count how just miles ahead there was nothing but smoldering ash and rubble where the bombs had hit a little over two months ago. 

 

He remembered that Luciano was bedridden from the recent bombings and he was not happy about it. 

 

“That stupid Alistair….” Luciano panted through the pain. “When I see him again I’m going to cut his— fuck! ” Luciano growled and then proceeded to slap Leon over the head. Leon was just trying to help clean the new wound and had been too rough and as a result he got slapped. “Be careful, Cagna!” 

 

“Sorry, Luciano.” Leon had dipped his head and went back to cleaning the wound, but making sure to be gentle. Leon then looked at Luciano and, even though he knew he shouldn’t, he spoke. “Luciano, maybe you should consider… being on Alistair’s good side? Maybe we could—”

 

Luciano didn’t strike him, thankfully, but he did snatch Leon’s chin and force Leon to look at him. Luciano’s burgundy eyes were narrowed and his face was twisted in anger. “And this is why I’m the one in charge. Your head is full of rocks if you think Alistair will just welcome us with open arms. If you think he’s willing to let us live peacefully, you’re wrong, dead wrong. He’ll kill us and try to annex us for his own gain. Not only that but do you think Oliver will let us anywhere near his boys? Do I need to remind you what happened to Sweden when he nearly kidnapped Sealand?” 

 

“No.” Leon tried to look away, but Luciano wouldn’t let him. 

 

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” Luciano huffed and finally let Leon go. “Get out of my sight. I’m tired of looking at you.” 

 

Peace was never, and will never be, an option. Not anymore. 

There was a brief moment of peace. After War World Two, but the peace didn’t last. Ego’s were challenged, namely Luciano's, Alistair’s, and Oliver’s. Leon didn’t know what was said or what happened, but the three of them had gone to a meeting and only two came out. Those two being Oliver and Alistair. Luciano vanished for a while, Leon wouldn’t see him again for three months, and when he would return something shifted.

 

Luciano had always been about being the best, and about power, about being better and bigger. He wanted more, always. This was the truth about him and what Leon knew after being Luciano’s friend for so long. Luciano wanted to be just like his grandfather Rome in that he wanted to be the strongest and the biggest that there ever was. He wanted to make his grandfather proud. 

 

So, when Luciano came back after three months he said nothing. Leon, of course, was ecstatic to have Luciano back and even offered to cook him something to eat. 

 

“Luciano! You’re back! I was so worried!” Leon almost couldn’t believe it as he ran to greet his friend. “Are you hungry? What am I saying, of course you’re hungry! Let me make you something!” Leon had gone to hug Luciano and he would, but Luciano wouldn’t hug him back. That wasn’t anything new, honestly, Leon was surprised Luciano had even allowed himself to be touched. Usually Leon would have been pushed off by now. 

 

They would part and Luciano wouldn’t say a word as Leon just kept on yapping. “I know you like pasta, I’ll make that? I have some boxed stuff, sorry it can’t be homemade, how about bolognese? You like that, right? Luciano?” Leon was making his way towards the kitchen when Luciano walked past him. “Luci?” Leon even dared to call Luciano by his dreaded nickname in the hopes of getting a reaction out of his friend. Luciano said nothing. Instead he just kept walking, his head down, arms swinging. 

 

“Luciano?” Leon followed up until Luciano made his way towards his bedroom, Leon was never allowed in there unless Luciano deemed it so. 

 

Leon felt his brow knit as Luciano shut his door. He wanted to keep pushing Luciano, to see what was wrong with his friend, if he needed help or not. He was gone for so long after all. Yet, another part of him shook at the idea of pushing one button too many. Luciano wouldn’t take well to it and may hurt Leon for such insolence. 

 

After a second or two, Luciano would emerge from his room and it was then would Leon see Luciano’s eyes, those familiar burgundy eyes, were completely lifeless. Still, Luciano would do something surprising. He raised his right hand and placed it on Leon’s shoulder. “We’re friends right?” Luciano would inquire as his hand lightly shook. 

 

“ Ja . Of course! You’re my best friend, Luciano!”

 

“Friends…they stick by each other…right?” 

“Well… Ja , I suppose they do?” Leon would scratch his head at this. “What’s this about, Luciano? Is it because you were gone for so long?”

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Luciano then let go of Leon. “Just know I’m going to do something, you blockhead.” The insult was welcoming. “And I want you to stick by me. Can you do that?”

 

“Well, what are you—”

 

“Can you do it? If not, tell me now and just go home.” 

 

“...I’d stick with you till the end of the world, Luciano. You know this.” 

 

“Good . I’ll be back.” Then he was gone. 

 

Turns out the thing Luciano needed to get from his room? His hand gun. The thing he needed to do? Kill his president at the time. 

 

No more bosses. 

 

No more rulers. 

 

He was in charge of his own land, of his people. It was something completely unheard of and the world was in shock at such a display. 

 

After that Bosses from all over the world fell like flies as the nations took control of their own lands. Leon couldn’t kill his boss, he just didn’t have the heart. The man was innocent in this whole mess. So, he got the man a new identity and a train ticket. “Good luck.” He told the man and he shook his head. 

 

“I should be telling you that, Leonard, you’re going to need it more than me. Italy is— Forget it. Good luck, old friend.”  

 

That was fifty years ago. Now here they were all at war with one another. A war that’s last for fifty years, ever since Luciano killed his boss. 

 

Leon sighed happily when he approached the shop and saw it was indeed opened. He walked in and the keeper greeted him. ‘Buongiorno, Leon! Always a pleasure!”

 

“Hello, Mr. Morgan!” Leon greeted the man as he went straight for the cooler. “Sorry to bother you, supplies are empty.”

 

“No bother. Did you hear about those fighter jets?” 

 

“Oh, Ja . Hopefully they won’t strike.”

“We can only hope, can’t we?” Leon grabbed a pack of beer and walked up to the counter rather quickly. “Is that all today?”

 

“ Ja ,” 

 

“Alrighty then.” The keeper hummed weakly as he rang Leon up for his booze. Then he showed Leon his total and Leon paid. “You stay safe out there.” He told Leon once he got his change back. 

 

“I’ll try, and you do the same, Mr. Morgan. Maybe close the shop up early?”

 

“Maybe.” 

 

With his goods in his hands, Leon made his way out of the little shop and back towards Luciano’s home. On his walk back he opened the pack and drank a beer. 

 

He hated being alone with his thoughts and beer often numbed those thoughts to a dull thrum in the back of his mind. 

 

By the time he made it back to Luciano he had finished his can of beer before he even opened the door. 

 

Leon would open the door to the house and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He heard wailing coming from inside the house. Leon nearly dropped his beer as he wanted to rush in and see just who was hurt to be crying like that. The crying was loud and desperate sounding, like the person was scared and hurt beyond belief. 

 

He ran towards the sound, putting his beer on the nearest table as he did so, the sound was coming from Luciano’s own room and right as Leon went for the handle, fearful that Luciano was hurt, the door opened and Kuro walked out. “ Kiku!— ” A voice that sounded both familiar, but yet still so different, yelled in complete fear before the door was promptly shut but Kuro. Immediately the sobbing picked up tenfold. “Kiku, why are you being so mean! Kiku— Kiku!!” The voice was most certainly italian. It was high pitched and panicked sounding. 

 

“What’s going on? A would be robber?” Leon had asked Kuro as he tried to go around the man. Kuro immediately put a hand on Leon’s shoulder and gave him a shove back away from the door. 

 

“I don’t know. It has Oliver written all over it, whatever it is.” Kuro growled. “Fool just showed up in the bathroom. Looked like he came out of the mirror, but I can’t be too sure about that. He was knocked unconscious. I had just finished tying him up when he woke up. He…well you can hear him.” Kuro rolled his eyes towards Luciano’s door where the stranger was still sobbing loudly calling for ‘Kiku’. 

 

“And you put him in Luciano’s room because?”

 

“Because he looks like him.” Kuro growled slowly. “And I mean he could pass for Luciano’s twin; I almost thought it was Luciano until he started crying.”

 

“Kiku! Please untie me! I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry!” The voice screamed on the other side. 

 

“Who’s Kiku?”

 

“Like I know. Considering he keeps calling me that, I’m presuming this ‘Kiku’ looks like me. Regardless, stay away from him. I’m going to call Luciano.” 

 

Kuro then walked away and Leon stayed. The hairs on the back of his neck refused to go down as he continued to hear the man on the other side of the door wail loudly. Leon could feel it, a pull to open that door, to see this mysterious Luciano lookalike for himself, but Kuro was pretty clear in his demand. 

 

Leon was going to listen to Kuro, honest, but then that voice on the other side of the door yelled again. “Ludwig!” The man managed to choke out between his sobbing. “Ludwig, where are you?!” 

 

‘Ludwig?’ That couldn’t have been a coincidence, could it? Leon nearly named himself Ludwig, nearly. In the very end he went with Leonard because he liked it a little better. His hand reached for the door handle, but he didn’t open it just yet. He wanted to, but again, there was just this nagging feeling in the back of his skull, a buzzing, a telling that if he opened this door that things may not be the same. 

 

“Germany! Germany, where are you! Japan is being weird!”

Leon’s eyes widened, this person was calling for him ? And so, he opened the door. Luciano would probably not be happy that Leon dare enter his room without permission, but he just had to see this person for himself. 

 

Kuro wasn’t joking. This person could be Luciano’s twin. They looked nearly identical, nearly, but not entirely. This person’s hair was lighter in color, a reddish brown, the perfect mix of auburn. Also their eyes were shut, yes, shut. He looked shorter than Luciano and what’s more he looked… soft ? The clothes they were wearing looked fashionable, clean, and crisp. His shirt was a simple long sleeved black shirt and his pants were kaki’s There was no other way for Leon to describe it. He just looked so soft. The crying probably helped with that. Speaking of which; the moment Leon showed himself the lookalike would calm down.

 

They were tied to a dining chair, one Leon hadn’t even realized was missing. Their arms were tied to their sides with thick rope and their legs were tied to the legs of the chair. Oh, and he wasn’t wearing shoes, only socks. 

 

 His wailing turned to mewing whimpers as he composed himself however; this would last for about a second. Somehow, Leon didn’t know how, the lookalike would look at him and then start wailing again only this time even louder, if that were possible. “You’re not Ludwig!” 

 

“Oh, please don’t—” Leon felt panicked as the Luciano look alike let out another pitiful wail. “Please don’t cry.” He shut the door behind him and hurried over to the scared man. “Don’t cry, you’re okay. It’s okay.” He touched the other’s shoulder and he quieted down yet again as he sniffled comically. His chest hiccuped noticeably as he looked at Leon, truely, he looked at Leon as his eyes opened. 

 

There was a major difference right in front of Leon’s eyes. This lookalike had eyes the color of amber. They were kaleidoscoped by the copious amount of tears still flowing down his cheeks. He sniffled loudly again as he forced himself to calm down. “You’re not Ludwig.” He repeated his earlier statement only now a little more quieter and subdued. 

 

“Uh, no, I’m not. I’m Leonard, I’m Germany. Who are you?”

 

The man sniffled again, tears rolling down his cheeks in fat droplets while snot started to run from his nose. “Fe…Feliciano. I’m North Italy.” He hiccuped before shutting his eyes again. “I’m scared.”

 

That didn’t feel right. Namely because if this was North Italy, he didn’t make fun of Leon’s name the way Luciano would have, nor did he call him disgusting for having such an out of shape form. No, the only thing he did say about it was a high pitched “But… you’re not Ludwig.” He whined as tears picked up in his eyes again. “How can you be Germany if you’re not Ludwig!?” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Leon didn’t know just what to say. Still, he looked around for something to help wipe the other’s endless tears. At first he found nothing, until his eyes spotted Luciano’s own private bathroom that was attached to his bedroom. “Hang on.” 

 

Leon ran into the bathroom and snatched the nearest towel off of the wall rack. He returned to Feliciano’s side and crouched down next to him. “Don’t cry, please, you’re too pretty to cry.” 

 

There was a pause as Feliciano did start to calm down. Leon was gently dabbing at Feliciano’s eyes. Feliciano’s breath hitched as loud gasps left his mouth. He shut his eyes again and then sniffled loudly. “There we go…just breathe, take a breath, can you do that?” Leon was tender as he wiped Feliciano’s tears away the best he could. 

 

Feliciano would eventually calm down as his breath became even and the hiccuping stopped. “There we go…” Leon pulled the towel back. “How did you get here?”  

 

Leon let Feliciano collect his thoughts and turned his head towards the door; fearful that he may see Luciano walk through that door. He wouldn’t, but the fear was still very much there. Luciano would not be happy to see him doing this. 

 

“I…I don’t know,” Feliciano’s voice was rough after crying for so loud and so long. “I mean, I do, but…I don’t. We were at Arthur’s party and— and there was this scary mirror! It grabbed me, it—” Feliciano raised his head up and simply showed Leon. He had a bruise around neck. “—It had these tendrils that grabbed me. They wrapped around my neck and… well, you can see.” 

 

Yes, he could see. Around Feliciano’s neck was a grotesque collar, blackness circling around his throat and over his Adam's apple, green and yellow discoloration was around the edges of the bruise making the blackness of the bruise look shiny and taut as a result. The blood vessels around the bruise had broken and webbed out all the same. It most certainly looked beyond painful. 

 

“It wasn’t exactly gentle. I thought I was going to black out. I mean, I did black out, but that’s beside the point.” 

 

Leon reached up and was tender in his touch as he let his fingers ghost over the bruise. “Who’s Arthur?” He inquired. 

 

“Britain, the UK, you know, the United Kingdom?” 

 

And at that Leon froze. “You—You mean Oliver ? If that’s the case—”

 

“No, his name is Arthur. Ar-thur . Not Oliver.”

 

“Regardless, isn’t Britain your enemy? Why on earth would you be at a party of his?”

 

“Because it’s his birthday? Not only that but we’re not enemies! We’re friends now!” Feliciano sounded so genuine in his response, his tone being a lot lighter than before and his mouth ticking up into the tiniest smile as he spoke. “Aren’t… you guys friends?” 

 

“...” His silence spoke volumes and that tiny smile melted from Feliciano’s face fairly quickly. 

 

“What year is it here?”

 

“2025.”

 

“How long have you guys still been at war?”

 

“...” Leon actually had to think about it. “Fifty years?” 

 

“Fifty?!” Feliciano gasped. “W—What about the UN!? NATO?!”

 

Leon felt his eyes narrow as he tilted his head. “UN? NATO? What is that?”

 

Feliciano looked aghast as his mouth opened but then closed just as quickly. “If you don’t know…then it never happened for you. The United Nations and NATO are groups of nations working together to keep the peace. To prevent another potential War World from breaking out.”

 

This time Leon looked just as aghast as Feliciano had been moments ago. “The nations getting along and trying to prevent another war from happening? That’s unheard of. I can’t imagine that ever happening! Am…Am I a part of it?” Leon must have looked as pathetic as he sounded asking such a simple, yet silly, question. 

 

Yet, Feliciano smiled . It was a weak smile that almost didn’t reach his eyes, but a smile nonetheless. His form still gave a little tremble, yet he answered honestly.  “Part of it? You’re more than that. You’re part of the G8, right next to me.” 

 

Leon blinked in wonderment as he got just a little closer to Feliciano. . “G8? Is that… good ?”

 

Feliciano was going to say something, however, whatever he was going to say was cut off when the door to the room was thrown open. Thankfully not by Luciano, but rather by Kuro.  The man’s red eyes were ablaze with unbridled fury at Leon’s rather open defiance. “I had a feeling. You just can’t listen for a damn, you simpleton!” Kuro snarled as he then snatched Leon by his shirt and hauled him to his feet. 

 

“It’s just that he was crying, Kuro—”

 

“I don’t care!”

 

Feliciano had his eyes opened now as he was watching Leon being dragged out the door. Leon and Feliciano locked eyes briefly before Kuro managed to get Leon out of the room as a whole. Kuro then shut the door behind himself. “Now, Luciano is on his way to talk to the crybaby himself. He made it crystal clear that you are not to talk to whoever that person is. Understand? Have a beer—” Kuro then shoved a beer into Leon’s hands. “And go watch TV. Stay out of the way and let Luciano deal with this.” Then Kuro gave Leon a harsh push towards the living room. 

 

The thing was, as weird as it sounded, Leon didn’t want a beer. He wanted to hear more about the UN and NATO, more importantly he just needed to know what in Feliciano’s world was a ‘G8’. 

 

Yet, he knew that wasn’t going to happen, not now anyways as Kuro was now standing vigilant by Luciano’s door. 

Notes:

Leon: Oh, please no, you're too pretty to cry.
Feliciano:... I...I didn't think of it like that.

So, I was going to try and fit everyone, Tino, Peter, Feli, and Matthew in one chapter, but I realized I couldn't lest the chapter be 20k long. So, I'm gonna break them up. I'm hoping next chapter will be Matthew and Peter's POV at the very least and I'll save Tino for last. But we'll see. Sometimes these characters do things on their own lmao.

"Alistair is the name of Scotland actually-"

"Is Scotland in this story? No? Then shush. To be fair Allen doesn't strike fear into my heart when I hear it. When I hear the name 'Allen' I think of an accountant.

Regardless, let me ask: What do you think happened between Oliver, Alistair, and Luciano fifty years ago that made Luciano vanish for 3 months and then kill his own boss?

Chapter 3: James Matthieu Kirkland

James Matthieu Kirkland. The personification of Canada. A rather apathetic being in general. If it doesn’t concern him, it doesn’t concern him. At least that’s how he sees it. He typically doesn’t get involved lest he needs to be or is forced. He’s learned it better that way, he stays in his own lane. He’s not invisible, oh, far from it in fact. The others know exactly who he is and why it is best that he doesn’t notice them. He is not to be messed with and if you have James’s attention and you aren’t part of his family? Well, let’s just say it doesn’t end well. 

 

James didn’t always have what one would call a ‘shiny spine.’ oh no, he remembered the days when he was just a little colony to France; he was a quiet lad. He never wanted to be loud and brash, it just wasn’t him, but because of that he was hardly heard. When Alistair had been taken in by England the twins had been separated. It was actually rather nice…for a while anyways. Francios wasn’t the perfect parent. Far from it, actually, he was a drunk, a pervert, and was mean with his words; however, he was better than Oliver in James’s eyes. 

 

Then Oliver got his hands on James. This was, of course, after the seven years war, and James was, unfortunately, collateral as a result. The moment Oliver had James in his grasp was when things changed. Oliver was weird, but beyond happy to “have his boys together! The way it should be!” 

 

James will never forget the first time he ate one of Oliver’s pastries…

 

“We’re changing your name.” Oliver decided as he put a plate of cupcakes in front of Matthieu. “It’s too…erm… french .” his nose rose at the mention. “I’ve put a lot of thought into it.”

 

Alistair was sitting next to Matthieu and only huffed loudly as he looked at the vanilla cupcakes. They were layered with a thick pink looking icing. 

“Don’t be shy. Have a cupcake.” Oliver encouraged as he turned his back to the boys. “Anyways, I’m thinking maybe something more English sounding? How about Matthew?”

 

Matthieu reached for a cupcake and Alistair grabbed his wrist suddenly and surprisingly. They locked eyes quickly and Alistair only shook his head. 

 

“You know? Maybe not. Matthew is already taken if I’m correct. No, you need a more masculine sounding name anyways. I’ve seen Matthew for myself briefly and I don’t want you to turn into him.” 

 

Matthieu narrowed his eyes at Alistair. Once again Alistair shook his head, this time a little more vigorously. 

 

Then a spatula slapped the top of Alistair’s head. “Ow!” Alistair yelped and pulled away from Matthieu.

 

“You stop that, just because you don’t like my cupcakes doesn’t mean Matthieu won’t.” Oliver waved his spatula threateningly at Alistair. Then he put a hand on Matthieu’s shoulder and leaned in. “Go on, lad, I made them for you after all. I know it’s not easy for you to go from Francios to me. Oh, how about Jack?” 

 

Matthieu shook his head at the name and Oliver gave a hum. “A J name is what you need…” He mumbled as he put a cupcake in front of Matthieu. It honestly looked good and Matthieu couldn’t figure out why Alistair had such an adverse reaction. So, he picked the treat up, took the wrapper off and took a bite. 

 

The first thing to hit him was the frosting, it was sticky, thick, and sweet. Overtly so. Then he tasted the cake, vanilla, not bad, pretty typical. Yet there was this weird taste to it. A taste the Matthieu couldn’t just place. He looked at the bite and saw red bleeding through the center. So, as any kid would think, he thought there was some sort of filling, maybe cherry, or strawberry, or maybe even pomegranate, after all Matthieu never had pomegranate before so that would explain the weird taste. 

 

“Oh, I know! How about James! Yes! James is the perfect name for you.” Oliver pinched Matthieu’s cheek at that. 

 

Matthieu shrugged. He liked Matthieu as a name, but Oliver was the adult. So, he took another bite of the cupcake—

 

Matthieu immediately spat on the plate. Red, thick, hot and definitely not some sort of fruit filling flowed out of his mouth. He dropped the treat on the table as he stared at the, what he was sure was, blood that was leaking out of it. Blood and some sort of meat . Meat that was very clearly raw . 

 

Alistair groaned loudly at the sight. 

 

“Now, James, first order of business.” Oliver then snatched James by the chin and forced James to look at him. “I refuse to raise those who won’t speak for themselves. You will not fade into the background and roll over like a dog. Do you hear me?” Oliver demanded as he tightened his grip on James’s chin. 

 

James’s eyes were wide as he stared at Oliver, his body started to shake. James felt the blood smear along his mouth when Oliver swiped at it with his thumb. His body felt numb as he stared into Oliver’s blue eyes. James hardly remember nodding, but apparently he did because Oliver gave him a harsh shake. “You speak , when spoken to. You let people know your opinions and your voice no matter how afraid you are. Do. You. Understand?” 

 

“Y…Yes?” 

 

“Louder!”

 

James was quaking now. “Yes!” He yelled as tears now blurred his vision. 

 

“You listen to me, James.” Oliver pulled him in uncomfortably close so that their noses were touching. “You will have a voice by the time I’m done with you. Now, answer me this.” Oliver pulled back and gave him a smile. “Did you like the cupcakes?”

 

“...” James shook unsure as to what to say. No, he didn’t like the cupcakes; they were filled with blood and some sort of raw mystery meat! But he didn’t want to upset Oliver. 

 

James tried to look towards Alistair for help, but Oliver gave him a shake. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Oliver demanded and James would, not out of choice either as Oliver tilted James’s head upwards. 

 

“N…No?” He whispered. 

 

“Louder!”

 

“No! They were awful! They had some sort of meat in them!”

 

“Yes!” Oliver then pulled James up from his chair and to his feet. “Yes! Now you understand.” Then Oliver hugged him, pulling James in tight in a hug. “France raised you to be soft, to roll over and expose your stomach like some sort of dog looking for attention. Not me. You will be feared , James. You will be a proper nation . ” 

 

That was the beginning for James and the quiet death of Matthieu. Of course, James still held on to his old name, he kept it as middle name, of course, but still: It was just his way of honoring the dead, like how some people get tattoos in memory of their dead loved ones. 

Oliver wasn’t as easy to live with as Francios was, shocker . No, Oliver wasn’t joking when he said he was going to give James a voice and make him into a proper nation. With the help of his magic, Oliver trained James, and Alistair of course, in combat. 

 

Of course, James was behind Alistair when it came to combat and as a result when it came time for their very first sparring lesson together Alistair laid James out . James ate the ground more times than he’d like to admit. It pissed James off, made him angry because everytime after that Alistair won. 

 

Alistair was better than him at everything. 

 

It filled James with anger, unbridled and burning hot. A anger that Oliver sure as fuck noticed and took advantage of. 

 

“You’re losing.” Oliver grunted as he stood behind James. 

 

“No shit.” James hissed to his father as he nursed his swollen cheek. “He’s stronger than me, of course I’m going to lose! I don’t know why you keep piting us together! Why can’t I fight Australia or New Zealand! Why am I always fighting America!?” 

 

Oliver looked at him and then gave a little hum as he then came up and touched James’s shoulders with both of his hands. That touch sent magic up James’s spine and his cheek began to heal. Then, a full mirror was suddenly in front of him and he was looking at his tired reflection. 

 

He was no longer a child, but rather a tired looking teenager. His purple eyes, once a great lilac, were now dull and lifeless. His hair, that he used to keep short and trimmed, was wild with untamed curls that hardly fit in the ponytail holder without getting snagged. “Tch.” He sucked his teeth and looked away from his angry reflection. 

 

“James, what do you see?” Oliver asked. James mumbled his response and that earned a well deserved slap to the cheek with the back of Oliver’s hand. Not hard, but hard enough . “Don’t mumble. Answer the question.” 

 

“I see… me.”

 

“Do you like what you see?”

 

“No.” 

 

“What was that?”

 

“No! I feel…” James looked at himself again. “I feel inadequate compared to Alistair.” He growled. “Alistair is stronger than me.”

 

“Then you need to be better. ” Oliver told James matter of factly as he waved his hand and an image of Alistair came up next to James in the mirror. 

 

Alistair stood there proud and tall. It made James’s anger flair just looking at his brother. After all Alistair did just beat his ass. “Tell me something, Jamie—”James rolled his eyes at the nickname.— “Do you want to be in your brother's shadow forever? Just vanish into the background like a wallflower?”

 

“Of course I don’t!”

 

“Then you need to stop this moping and you need to find his weakness, everyone has one, this includes your twin. He’s strong, yes, but you are not helpless! If he’s strong then you need to be fast . You will be a strong nation, I see it in you. That’s why I plant you against your brother. Because he is the strongest of the lot and one day you will beat him.” 

 

Bullshit. To this day James still had yet to actually beat Alistair if they should spar. Alistair was just as fast as he was strong.  Still made him feel inadequate, but he just squashed that inadequacy into resentment and moved on with his life. He supposed it wasn’t all bad at the very least. At least now he was out from under Oliver’s thumb as he lived in his own land of Banff, Canada. He only saw Oliver when his father felt the need to literally pop in for a surprise. 

 

Sometimes Oliver would bring cupcakes…

 

James never ate a single pastry Oliver made since the first incident. 

 

“...” James stared at his ceiling with tired eyes. “How long have I been staring at the ceiling?” He wondered. He had woken up sometime ago but just didn’t feel like leaving the warm sanctuary of his blankets and soft bed. It wasn’t anything unusual for James, far from it in fact. This was pretty typical once he got his own place away from Oliver. He wasn’t a lazy man, far from it in all honesty. Oliver made it clear that laziness wouldn’t be tolerated. He just had a bit more freedom and what he did with that freedom was his business. 

 

“Urg…” He put both of his rough hands to his face and started to rub his hands up and down vigorously. “Okay, I’m up, I’m up!” He called to nobody. “Fuck.” He then rolled out of his bed. James didn’t bother making his bed as he went to his dresser and grabbed some clothes and went from his little bedroom and to his bathroom that was an ensuite. 

 

He opened the door and walked up to the mirror of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. “God, I swear these get darker by the day.” He pulled his eye down to inspect the dark eyebags that hung under both of his eyes. No matter how long or how well James slept, it was never enough, his eyebags were there to stay. 

 

James shook his head and turned on the tap to the sink. He opened his mirror and grabbed his toothpaste and toothbrush. He also grabbed a hair tie. “Let’s just get this day over with and hope nobody attacks me.” He grumbled to himself as he tied his curly hair back into a loose ponytail and then brushed his teeth. Once finished and the last bit of foam spat into the sink, James shut his mirror fully and looked at himself again. 

 

Immediately he felt his brow furrow as he leaned in to look at himself in the mirror again. He just had to be sure he wasn’t seeing things because his reflection looked different . His reflection no longer had eyebags, for one. The complexion a lot clearer, hair silkier and lighter, but also very obviously shorter. Eyes that familiar lilac that had sense faded. “Huh?” He blinked and his reflection was back to normal. 

 

“Oliver.” He grunted as he stepped back from the mirror. “How many times have I told him to stop enchanting my shit?” James grunted all the while turning away from the mirror in question. Where he got dressed with his back to the mirror. 

 

His outfit wasn’t anything special, just a red flannel shirt, blue jeans, and square-toed boots. Truthfully, this was more or less the same outfit he wore everyday. He was rather simple when it came to his clothes. James felt unnerved as he finished buttoning up his shirt. He looked over his shoulder at himself in the mirror and narrowed his eyes at his own reflection. He knew what he saw as quick as it was. 

 

James stared at his own distrusting reflection for a few passing seconds before finally turning around. “I don’t know what he’s planning, but I don’t want any part of it.” James decided rather smartly. He would turn the lights off in his bathroom and shut the door. 

 

The mid-day sunlight streamed into his bedroom and James walked up to his window to gaze outside. He lived in Banff, as mentioned previously, and he never got tired of looking out at that gorgeous nature right outside of his house.  The nature he was trying to protect. To prevent it from being nothing more than smoldering ash, or worse, a nuclear wasteland. On one hand, he should be thankful, because of Oliver and his ways: Nobody messed with James and nobody absolutely nobody confused him for America. Then again, those that knew Alistair… knew Alistair. It wasn’t like it was hard to tell Alistair and James apart after all. 

 

Regardless of all of that, James still had his reservations about Oliver. Namely the whole shtick that happened with Luciano. James was not part of that meeting, but all he knew was that after the meeting Luciano killed his boss and took his own land over. 

 

‘The start of the end.’ James thought as he moved on from his bedroom window and towards his kitchen. He meant it, that really did feel like the start of the end. They weren’t supposed to be in charge of their lands, but here they were, he supposed. After Luciano pushed that first domino, everyone followed. James did, but he didn’t at the same time. 

 

“What do you mean you’re keeping your Prime Minister!” Oliver had demanded. 

 

James grinned as he swirled his whiskey around his cup. “He’s my second in command. I don’t know shit about leading.” 

 

“James, this is our chance to do what we want. Your boss—”

 

“Isn’t my boss. He’s my second in command . Did I not just say that?” James leaned back in his chair as he looked at Oliver. “I’m not killing the man, Oliver. That’s that.” 

 

Oliver stared at James for a few unblinking moments. James kept eye contact as he sipped his whiskey. Oliver then tutted his tongue and put his hands on his hips. “You’re still so… soft after all these years.” 

 

James had no idea why, but that insult, such a simple word, had hurt him so. ‘Soft.’ He didn’t want to be known as soft. He wasn’t soft . He couldn’t afford to be soft, not in today’s day and age that was. 

 

He made his way to his kitchen and got a coffee pot going with a simple click of the button. Once he crossed the threshold from carpet to linoleum and his boots clicked on the floor did he garner the attention of his beloved pet. 

 

“Berny.” He called as he opened the fridge and pulled out a slab of elk meat. 

 

There was the click of nails on the linoleum before ‘Burny’ made herself seen. There she was in all her beauty. She would pause for a moment before stretching her body out in front of James. 

 

Bernadette, James’s pet gray wolf. 

 

James found her when she was just a pup shortly after he moved out of Oliver’s home. Bernadette was no older than a month. She had gotten herself caught in a hunter’s trap, the kind meant for Elk. He would know because it was his trap. Thankfully, it was just that, a trap, and nothing more nefarious like a bear trap. Poor thing was dangling upside down by her hind paw. James freed her, of course, he wasn’t a monster. 

 

Instantly Bernadette took a liking to him. James, not exactly fond of pets for reasons that he didn’t want to remember, tried to shoo her away. Yet, she stayed. The little pup followed him home and when he locked her out of his house, hoping she’d get the hint, she chewed through the door and let herself back in. Made herself cozy on his couch and all. 

 

Look, if the wolf wanted to be his pet, then fine, James supposed a pet wolf wasn’t all bad. She was nice company, at the very least. 

 

Bernadette’s tail wagged at the raw elk meat in James’s hand. It was the leg and thigh of the elk, bone, hoof, and all. James stared at her and she stared back. Then James tossed the leg and Bernadette, ever the hunter, caught it and trotted off to go and eat. “Not on the carpet!” James yelled after Bernadette. He then gave a soft sigh as he shut his fridge. 

 

He walked back towards the coffee pot and grabbed a mug from his cabinet. “Nothing like a nice hot coffee to get the blood flowing.” He mumbled as he poured himself some coffee. Coffee that James wouldn’t get to enjoy, because only milliseconds after the last drop hit the mug there was a sudden and deafening CRASH AND BOOM! That shook his entire house and caused James to drop his mug and spill hot coffee everywhere . 

 

“What the actual fuck!?” James yelled in alarm as he tried to calm his racing heart. It sounded, and felt like a moose hit the side of the house.

 

 Bernadette came bounding into the kitchen, elk leg still in her maw. She looked at him and he looked at her. “Yeah, you heard that too, right?” 

 

Bernadette lifted her nose up towards the air and sniffed deeply. Then she dropped the elk leg. James watched her as she started to sniff along the ground. James watched her in alarm as she continued to sniff all the way along the floor. Then she paused, her fur bristled, and then she growled while pointing towards James’s room. 

 

“Oh…” James pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he sighed a loud and elongated sigh from deep in his soul. “Okay. Okay. I don’t like this and not only that but this already has Oliver written all over it.”

 

James walked next to Bernadette and crouched down next to her where he put a hand on her head. They looked at one another briefly before both looking at the bedroom. James got up and walked towards his bedroom and Bernadette followed behind him. Her fur was bristled as she cautiously sniffed the air and didn’t stay far from James. 

 

James walked into his bedroom and looked around, he didn’t see anything and that left him more on edge than he’d like to admit. He walked a little further into the room with Bernadette. Bernadette immediately turned and stared at his bathroom. She let out a low huff and that told James all he needed. “Okay.” He turned and grabbed his hockey stick that was hanging on the wall. He held the hockey stick tight in his grip as he slowly approached the bathroom door. He kept the stick raised and grabbed the handle to the door, looked at Bernadette one last time before opening the door. 

 

Now …

 

James wasn’t entirely sure what he should have expected behind that door. It was Oliver’s work after all, for all James knew it could have been a spider the size of a cow. He didn’t know . 

 

Yet…

 

He was still shocked by what he was looking at. 

 

James lowered the hockey stick while Bernadette let out a loud and long series of barks. 

 

Why? 

 

Because James was almost sure he was looking at himself . 

 

James narrowed his eyes in confusion as he crouched down and looked at…whatever it was he was looking at, because there was no way this could be him. Sure, this stranger and James shared several qualities with one another, but… 

 

This person had the same wavy hair as James, yes, yes and it was blonde, yes . But this person had lighter almost champagne blonde hair. James’s hair was a dirty blonde and slightly more curly/unruly. Well, to be fair, this kid looks like he takes care of his hair. It was so shiny and looked soft. This kid wasn’t as toned as James, no, but they weren’t flabby either. They looked to be at a healthy weight. Their skin was, for lack of a better word, flawless . The type of flawless James hadn’t seen on himself or Alistair since he was a child. “Hm.” James grabbed the kid’s wrist and looked at the kid's hands. The fingers, while a little scuffed up, showing a sort of struggle, were still perfect . Not a speck of grime and they were trimmed neat and short, minus the few that were clearly chipped from a struggle. 

 

“Clean hair, skin, and nails, let me see those clothes.” James spoke more to himself as he took a step so he was now behind the boy. This person was wearing a white long sleeved button down and black slacks. He wasn’t wearing shoes, which was a little odd, but he did have goldtoe socks on. James grabbed the back of their shirt to look at the tag. Ralph Lauren . 

 

“Okay, so we have clean hair, clear skin, clean nails, and clean clothes. In short…” James’s eyes narrowed. “You’re soft, aren’t you?” He asked the person knowing he wasn’t going to get an answer. “Just what the hell are you doing here? And most importantly, who are you?” James had no shame in reaching down grabbing two things from the stranger’s back pockets. Those things being his cell phone and wallet. 

 

James opened the wallet first as he put the phone on the floor. Well, he got a name to the face and it’s exactly what he feared and maybe even a little more. 

 

Matthew James Williams read back on the ID. The ID. that along the picture had a Special Access stamp along with the image of a maple leaf right next to his name. All telling James what he feared. This was him because had those exact markings on his ID to prove he was the nation of Canada— and their leader but like whatever.—

 

James just continued to stare at that name. Matthew James Williams . Meanwhile he was James Matthieu Kirkland. So similar but so different at the same time. “You don’t belong here.” James grunted to the unconscious body. 

James had half a mind to call Oliver and just wash his hands from whatever this was. He didn’t like this, not one bit. The more he looked at this softer version of him the more sick he felt. Yet…James couldn’t bring himself to do it. ‘They’ll eat him alive.’ He knew this was the truth, if Australia wouldn’t then Alistair will. Judging by the rumbled clothes, and the obvious struggle that Matthew had put up… he wasn’t here by choice. 

 

“...” James saw their leg and noted that not only was the knee swollen it absolutely looked dislocated. 

 

It was honestly a sigh deep from within his soul did James reach forward and grab Matthew by his arms. “I’m going to regret this.” He said more to himself as he, with relative ease, hoisted Matthew up into a fireman’s carry across his shoulders. Once up, James stood up, again with ease, and walked out of his bathroom. Bernadette followed, trotting behind James every step of the way. 

 

“Now, I know what you're thinking. No, we’re not helping him every step of the way.” James told Bernadette. “We’re going to patch him up, give him one of Oliver’s healing potions, and send him on his way. I don’t know where he came from or why, but I don’t want any part of this.” 

 

Bernadette snorted. It was a snort that said ‘I do not believe you.’ 

 

James laid Matthew on to his bed and then quickly worked to prop the bad leg up. Of course, the moment he touched the leg he could tell it was, in fact, dislocated as he had thought. The knee was swollen so big that it was nearly bursting the seams of the pants he was wearing. It couldn’t be comfortable. Still, he propped the leg up with an extra pillow from his closet to try and help at least a little. He did debate about tying Matthew up, for good measure at the very least, but he had a feeling that Matthew wasn’t going anywhere, not with that busted leg of his.

 

It was at this exact moment, the moment where James was tucking the duvet under Matthew’s leg, when he finished with his work and looked at Matthew. He looked at Matthew’s face and it made his eyes narrow as he stared at the other man. 

 

There were a few more small details about Matthew that stood out to James. Matthew’s nose was small, button-like one would say, his nose was also straight. James’s nose was a little longer and more pointed, it was also crooked from the many fights and sparring matches that he had lost in his youth. Matthew’s face was round and his cheeks full. James’s face was slim and his cheeks only slightly hollow. They were so alike yet so different at the same time. It was almost surreal. 

 

‘He’s a you you could have been, you know that right?’ James put that thought into the farthest reaches of his mind. That was wrong. That was dead wrong. 

 

Still, James did not dwell on this for too long. He didn’t want to dwell on this for too long. Instead, he finished doing what he was doing, backed up with his hands in the air, and stared at Matthew. He took all of Matthew in the best he could. He was right, he knew he was. The kid was obviously soft in a world that will see that softness and crush him because of it. He was like a wounded baby bird that had fallen into the viper's nest. 

 

The question was: Was James a fellow viper? Or was he a bird perched on high ready to swoop down?

 

He didn’t know . 

 

“Shit…” He whispered and backed away out of the bedroom door. “ Shit!” He cursed once more before shutting his door once Bernadette was behind him. 

 

James had things to think about. 

---

So, this isn't part of the story but rather me gushing over 2p Canada and where my inspiration comes from his looks and it comes from this lovely piece of art right here!

I quote: "You are giving me the willy's, sir." nearly every day lmao. HOWEVER does ANYONE know the artist?! I have searched and searched and searched and cannot find a single source for not just this picture but their others as well. I find these artworks on every site BUT a good and credible art site. I see them on Wattpad (not credible) on Facebook (not credible) and on Pinterest (Hella not credible) I need the OG artist so bad! Please and Thank you!

Notes:

I hope you enjoy this story so far! Be kind and review! It keeps me going :D

This is still just the start, especially for Oliver and his crazy antics. We still have Tino and Peter to go!

Chapter 4: Esbjørn

Notes:

So, a little fun fact about this particular story with Esbjørn and Tino it was originally inspired by the Hunchback of Notre dame!

Also we're doing things a little differently in this chapter. :)

Like the others, Tino had passed out before he reached his destination, unlike the others he wasn’t unconscious for long. “Peter.” Was the first thing out of his mouth as he sits up and then starts to look around in confusion. Tino had a bump on his head probably the size of helsinki. He reached up and touched the bump in question before wincing. “ Ai .” Tino whispered as he looked at his hand. No blood, thank goodness. 

 

Tino looked at the bathroom he was laying in and felt his eyebrows start to arch. The bathroom was honestly just that, a bathroom, but it was absolutely filthy . The tiles were stained yellow, the tub had mildew around the bottom and caulk lining. 

 

The walls, like the tub, had obvious signs of black mold along the top as well as some dry rot. 

 

Tino stood slowly and winced in pain again as one of his ribs sent a shooting pain down his spine. “Urg…” he groaned and grabbed onto his rib. That landing wasn’t exactly what one would call ‘soft’ he realized. Still, now that he was on his feet he was able to see the inside of the sink and Tino felt disgusted . The sink wasn’t just coated with grime, but there was clear mildew around the drain that looked to be growing with each second. Not only that but there was a roach just chilling in the drain and it was alive . It's a little antenna twitching as it stared back at Tino. 

 

“Who would live in squalor like this?” Tino could only ask as he observed the wall and noticed the lingering smell of cigarette smoke that hung in the air. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that made his stomach do twists. Tino didn’t like this feeling, not one bit.

 

Still, Tino did not want to hang around here any longer than he already had. Peter needs his Mama and he’d be damned if he’d let some pink haired manic lay claim on his child! So, Tino did not dwell on this filthy bathroom for much longer and opened the door. 

 

Honestly, the bathroom should have tipped Tino off how bad the rest of the home may be. When he stepped into the hallway the first thing to greet him was yellow. Yellow walls that he quickly realizes are from cigarette smoke. The stench of the cigarettes lingered in the air like a heavy and stinky blanket. It made Tino scrunch his nose up. 

 

He silently padded his way down the carpeted hallway where his foot hit something that made him pause. It was heavy and when he looked down to see just what he hit he saw a beer bottle. A beer bottle just laying in the middle of a hallway was never a good sign for things to come. Still, Tino stepped around the beer bottle and continued to silently walk. He was thankful he had taken his shoes off at England’s home as his socks helped muffle his footsteps. 

 

Tino made it from the hallway and into the main room where he stopped almost immediately, why? Because there was a dog and this dog was not Hanatamago, Tino’s beloved little lapdog. This was a Finnish Lapphund. In short, a big dog that wasn’t afraid to show its teeth once it spotted Tino. The dog let out a low growl and then tensed upon seeing Tino. 

 

The dog showed its teeth and Tino got down low with his hands up. “ Helppo… ” He whispered to the dog. “Helppo .” He repeated. The dog sniffed the air and Tino brought his hand out, a dangerous move, he knew, but if maybe he could calm the dog down. It surprisingly worked! The Finnish Lapphund gently sniffed his hand before his long tail started to wag. 

 

The dog then came up to Tino and pressed their cold nose against Tino’s palm. “Yeah, you’re a good boy—” Tino paused and looked down. “Good boy!” He said once he was sure and he started to put the dog behind the ears. “Yeah, you’re a pretty boy…” Tino frowned when he felt the dog’s ribs. Finnish Lapphund are a hairy breed and it’s easy to mistake all that long fur for fat. No, this poor thing was far from fat, in fact, he was malnourished and probably famished. 

 

His tail wagged happily at Tino’s warm touch. “You poor thing.” He whispered as he stood up. The Finnish Lapphund. The dog ran a small circle around Tino’s legs and Tino didn’t mind this as he continued to put the dog. The poor dog didn’t have a collar or any sort of identification, so Tino had to improvise with a makeshift name for now. “Erm… Hugo ?” 

 

Hugo looked at him. Tino decided that was a win for a first try. “C’mon, Hugo.” He ordered and the dog would follow him obediently. 

 

Oh boy, the house was everything Tino feared. Dirty, grimy, hadn’t been cleaned in eons. There were beer bottles everywhere . Tino hit another beer bottle and got a little curious. So, he bent down and picked it up. The bottle was lime green and Tino recognized it immediately as Carlsberg , a popular Danish brand. In fact, he’s seen Denmark drink this from time to time. 

 

Tino put the bottle down on the ground and decided to move on. He didn’t know where that crazy version of England sent him, but he decided he really, really didn’t want to find out. Tino went from the living room and into the kitchen. In the kitchen he spotted, yes, more beer bottles. Only these weren’t Danish, they were Norwegian bottles. Tino grabbed a bottle to inspect, but Hugo caught his attention. Hugo was pawing at the fridge, the dog let out a low whine as he did so. 

 

Tino’s first thought was that the poor thing was either hungry, thirsty, or both. He knew this wasn’t his house, wasn’t his dog, but clearly Hugo was being neglected, so screw these alcoholics. Tino opened the fridge— 

 

His eyes went wide, his mouth opened in a silent scream as horror seeped into every inch of his body. Tino then slammed the fridge door shut maybe a little too hard as the whole fridge shook with this motion. For good measure he pressed himself against the fridge. Not that that would do anything. ‘That was…’ Tino felt tears blur his vision as his body shook. ‘I have to get out of here!’ 

 

What did Tino see in that fridge? 

 

A decapitated head . 

 

That’s what. 

 

Of who? He didn’t fucking know! He just knew that it was a head and he needed to leave .  Tino sure as fuck wasn’t going to leave Hugo with these monsters. He didn’t care if he just met this dog. Thankfully there was a leash on a keyrack hanging off of the wall leading to the front door. Tino snatched it, still no collar around Hugo, but that didn’t matter. He knew how to make a makeshift one with the leash. 

 

Tino then heard the sound of a bottle being kicked from the hallway. He watched as the kicked bottle rolled just briefly before coming to a stop. “Who’s…who’s there?” He demanded as he had Hugo leashed properly. He didn’t get a response. “I…I mean you no harm, whoever you are…” He felt the need to add, but he still reached for a butcher’s knife from it’s holder on the counter top. “I just want to go home.” 

 

There was another silence and it made Tino bristle. Yet, he could hear it, the soft padding of footsteps against carpet. “I know you’re there!” He yelled between clenched teeth. “I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I must.” 

 

He watched as a hand came out of the hallway and gently touched the hallway corner. The hand was massive as it gently touched the sharp edge of the corner, like it was making sure it was there. This was only for the right side of the hallway. 

 

Then a figure rounded the corner and Tino’s tough demeanor changed as he lowered the knife just a little. “B…Berwald?” His voice felt small, disbelieving almost. Mainly because he knew, he knew he couldn’t possibly be looking at his beloved husband. Namely because he had seen Berwald just shy of twelve hours ago and he didn’t…he didn’t look like this . 

 

Tino didn’t even know where to start. Where to look. There was just so much wrong . 

 

He supposed Berwald’s—Sweden’s— This guy’s right eye was the first thing he saw. The eye was blinded by scars. Not just one scar, but many scars from many different weapons from the looks of it. He was disfigured in that eye by angry scars. Scars that went past his eye, scars that varied in length and size. So much so that he just couldn’t heal from it. He had one particular scar that started from the right side of his face and went down past the left side of his lips. His nose had scars as well, some from the right side, well most from the right side, some coming from the left. In short, his face was more scar tissue than anything else. So many that Tino just couldn’t see how many there were and how many he had. He had too many . 

 

Still, Tino knew his husband anywhere, he knew Berwald’s build, he knew Berwald . Yet…his hair was different. His hair was darker, and he had a beard, a dark sandy colored beard. 

 

They looked at one another, both looking surprised to see one another. It was clear that this person hadn’t expected to see Tino standing there. Or maybe he had? He looked confused, his good idea narrowed slightly as his head tilted to the side. “I—” Tino raised the knife. “I don’t want to hurt you!” He yelled finally. “I know what’s in that fridge!” He pointed the knife to the fridge. “So, just let me go—”

 

This person shook his head and then waved his hands. This made Tino pause in confusion. The then started to point desperately to their ears. Tino narrowed his eyes on this. This person continued to point to his ears and make X’s with his arms. Tino watched this before it suddenly dawned on him. 

 

He stared at this stranger and then took a risk, he dropped the knife. By dropping it: he put it on the counter to where he can easily grab it should this person attack. Tino was Santa, as a result he knew many languages. This included sign language, nearly all versions. Thankfully this included Swedish Sign Language. What kind of husband, or Santa, would he be if he didn’t know SSL? 

 

You’re Deaf? He signed with his fingers.

 

Immediately that one eye lit up like a Christmas Star. This Berwald just so… happy . 

 

Yes He signed back. 

 

Tino frowned at this and then looked at him. Who are you? He inquired. 

 

The man thought carefully about his answer before he would reply. I’ll tell you, if you tell me? You don’t live here and it looks like you’re stealing our dog? 

 

This dog is clearly not being taken care of. Tino would sign back without hesitating. I will not sit by and let this poor animal be abused. 

 

He got a shrug in return. Take him. I don’t care. I don’t think anyone will, but that didn’t answer my question. 

 

T-I-N-O.  I’m Finland. Your turn.

 

His good eyebrow arched at that. He then shook his head. You’re not Finland. I know Finland. 

 

I am Finland. Tino repeats and that causes the man to frown noticeably. I’m also Santa, but that’s not important. 

 

Then his head tilts. Santa? 

 

Yes. 

 

He looks confused now but decides it’s not worth it to question. 

 

Name? Tino inquired. 

 

He looks torn for a moment before tapping his fingers together. E-S-B-J-Ø-R-N

 

Esbjørn? 

 

Esbjørn would nod happily at this. I am Sweden. 

 

Now it was Tino’s turn to frown. He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head to the side. Still, he would continue after a second of pondering. I know Sweden. He’s my husband. You are not. His name is B-E-R-W-A-L-D. However, you claim I am not Finland, and I claim you are not Sweden. That’s telling something. That I don’t think I belong here. 

 

Esbjørn tilted his head at this and then shook it. I don’t think you do either. He signs back. 

 

Tell me about the other Finland, will he, or she, or they, help—

 

Esbjørn didn’t let Finland finish. He instead shook his head vigorously as his eyes went wide. Rekko is mean. He won’t help.

 

Tino tilted his head. R-E-K-K-O? He spelled. 

 

Rekko. Mean. He won’t help you, he’ll likely stab you for trying to steal his dog. 

 

Tino bristled and looked down at Hugo. Hugo looked at him, his tail started to thump against the ground as his tongue suddenly lolled out of his mouth. 

 

Where is Rekko now? Tino then asked. Esbjørn only shrugged. 

 

Hard to say. Bar? Or Maybe Dainsleif’s? 

 

Who?

 

Esbjørn inhaled rather sharply at this question. Denmark he would then sign and that made Tino frown. 

 

Tino knew by Esbjørn’s reaction that this Denmark, or rather Dainsleif, wasn’t going to be much help. In fact, by the scared look in Esbjørn’s good eye, Tino had a good feeling about Dainsleif. Let me guess. Mean?

 

Very . 

 

Tino kept the frown on his face as he tilted his head to the side. Did he hurt you?

 

He’s the reason I can’t hear. Esbjørn would admit and he pointed to his ears. We got into a fight, he bashed my head into a wall, repeatedly.

 

Tino just couldn’t see Denmark, his Denmark, doing something like that, no matter how mad he got. It made Tino feel sick the longer he looked at Esbjørn. At all those scars, at the eye that was hidden by a mountain of scars. Tino wanted to ask more, god did he want to ask more, he was brimming with questions, however, it didn’t get that far as a door off in the distance, the front door, Tino would realize. 

 

“Yo, Esbjørn! Where the fuck are you!?”

There was no time for Tino to run. Esbjørn had seen Tino’s shocked face and maybe the vibration in the floor as whoever had spoken was making their way towards them. Esbjørn was suddenly in front of Tino and it was none too soon. Speak of the devil, as Tino’s late mother would say. Denmark came into the kitchen only seconds after Esbjørn got in front of Tino.

Dainsleif looked a lot like the Denmark that Tino knew, however he was a little different. His hair, like Esbjørn’s, was a darker shade of blonde; it was down past his shoulders and put up into a low ponytail that hung over his right shoulder. His eyes were a deep brown and they looked so tired as bags hung under them. He looked rough, rugged, and also dirty. There were no laugh lines along his face, no smile lines. He looked so… dead , his eyes, while brown, were borderline black as they showed no emotion. He also had a scar along his right eye. It started from the corner of his right temple and went down over his eye, ending at the bridge of his nose. 

 

This was shown as when he saw Tino; his expression didn’t change. Instead he tilted his head, pulled out a pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. Under his fingernails was dirt and perhaps blood as Tino saw red along Dainsleif’s calloused fingers.

Hugo gave a whine and hid behind Tino, his tail tucked between his legs as his ears went flat along his head. 

 

Dainsleif pulled out his lighter and flicked it to life. An orange flame danced for a moment before he lit his cigarette. The tip turned a bright orange and then he inhaled. “You’re new.” He finally spoke; a plume of smoking leaving his mouth like an angry dragon. That smoke came over to Tino and it made Tino wave a hand in front of his face. “Esbjørn? Wanna explain?” Dainsleif demanded. Dainsleif started to stalk around them, Esbjørn kept Tino protected by never once taking his good eye off of Dainsleif. 

 

“He’s deaf—” Tino felt foolish for bringing that up considering what Esbjørn had told him just moments prior. 

 

“I know he’s deaf, I’m the one who made it that way. He can read our lips. Nobody else's, he’s rather slow like that.”

 

“Why would you do something so nasty ?” Tino hissed between clenched teeth.

Dainsleif shrugged. “Because I can? Oh, no, wait, that’s right, because the idiot ran his mouth to the wrong person. I had to teach him a lesson one way or another.” 

 

“...Look, I’m just looking for my son, I don’t want any harm from you or anyone else!”

 

“A child?” Dainsleif inquired. 

 

“Yes.”

 

Dainsleif then chuckled. It was a dark chuckle that sent shivers down Tino’s spine. “Don’t tell me you went after Oliver’s boy, again , Esbjørn?”

Tino felt his lips thin into a snarl. Then Dainsleif leaned in. He didn’t push Esbjørn to the side, he simply leaned in so he and Tino were nose-to-nose. The sickening stench of cigarette smoke hung in the air between them as the cigarette hung in the corner of his mouth. “You’re in the lion's den, boy. I hope you know that.”

 

Tino let out a low growl as his hands clenched tightly.

Esbjørn put a hand on Dainsleif’s shoulder and gave him a push back; not a hard push, but one that made Dainsleif take a solid step back. Dainsleif looked at Esbjørn, his head cocked to the side. “This one is spunky, Esbjørn, I see we lock him in a room with Rekko and see which one of them makes it out. My money’s on Rekko. Oh, I know, let’s give him to Magnus. Magnus has been looking for new subjects. The dope in the fridge didn’t work out the way he hoped.”

Tino swallowed painfully hard. At that moment, more than anything, he missed Berwald. He missed his loving husband, and maybe that’s why he gravitated towards Esbjørn. Tino reached up and gently touched Esbjørn’s arm as he stared at Dainsleif. Esbjørn looked over his shoulder at Tino and then focused back to Dainsleif. 

 

Dainsleif narrowed his eyes as he gnawed on the end of his cigarette. “Don’t be stupid, Esbjørn. I can and will end you.” He stated it so matter of factly. “Back away from this idiot and let me deal with him.”

Tino felt Esbjørn tense a little and he knew that it was all going to come to a head sooner rather than later. He looked at Dainsleif before his eyes shifted quickly towards the knife that he had left on the counter top a step or two away and his grip on Hugo’s leash tightened just a little as he looked back at Dainsleif. ‘Give me strength’ He thought as he shut his eyes for just a moment and then he dropped Hugo’s leash.

Tino was then running, running for the knife. He managed to wrap his hand around the handle when a hand was suddenly in his hair and his face was slammed into the cabinet above. It was on instinct did Tino reach for his face, to touch his nose that had taken the brunt of the attack. Well, that was when he was met with a fist to the side of the face. Dainsleif punched hard , harder than Tino would have expected.

As a nation, he’s privy to the other nordics, to their strengths, he’s sparred with his own Denmark many times. This wasn’t the same because Tino went flying. He flew a good five feet before he hit the floor. The knife clattered on the ground in front of him, but by the time Tino saw it Dainsleif stepped on it. “You’re a quick one, I’ll give you that.” Dainsleif still had his cigarette in the corner of his mouth as he said that. He crouched down in front of Tino and gave him an unsettling smile. “Tell you what. You come quietly and maybe I’ll give Rekko a gun instead of a knife? He’ll likely kill you faster with that—” 

 

Tino swung his body along the floor and in one quick movement he shot his foot out and kicked Dainsleif right in the face. That was more than enough to cause Dainsleif to stumble as he was crouched. Tino then grabbed one of the many beer bottles from the floor and tossed it at Dainsleif’s head. “I have a child to save! I don’t have time for this!” He yelled to Dainsleif as he then got to his feet in a crouch right as Dainsleif was recovering from the bottle to the head. Tino then leapt like a cat, he caught Dainsleif in the middle and pushed him back with as much force as he could muster. He knew it was hard because Dainsleif let out a loud cry of surprise, that stupid cigarette falling from his mouth as a result. Tino then cocked his arm back and punched Dainsleif across the face. 

There was a grunt from the man as his head whipped to the side. Tino then grabbed the cabinet and swung it open so fast and so hard against Dainsleif’s face that he heard the signature crack of a nose breaking. Tino saw the plates in the cabinet and that’s all he needed to finish the job. The plate was heavy enough that by the time Dainsleif looked towards Tino it was too late. 

 

Smash!

 

The plate broke into a thousand little pieces and Dainsleif was out like a light on the floor. Blood dripped down Dainsleif’s temple and down his head from where the plate, and several shards of ceramic, cut into him. Tino panted heavily above the man and then wiped the blood dripping from his nose before he looked at Esbjørn. Esbjørn’s one good eye was a light Tino couldn’t tell if it was wonder or joy behind that lone pupil.  “I’ll be leaving now.” Tino said through his panting. He then sighed and realized who he was talking to and tried again. ‘I’m leaving.’ He signed. He then grabbed Hugo’s leash and the dog stayed at first. Tino was quick to realize that it was Dainsleif. Dainsleif had this poor dog so scared that even when unconscious, Hugo doesn’t want to be near him.

“C’mon boy.” Tino then bent down and painstakingly picked Hugo up like one  would a toddler. He held Hugo on his hip and the dog didn’t mind this at all. Tino was ready to forget about this house, that Denmark, and even his own twisted self getting blasted god knows where. Yet, he was surprised that when he made his walk towards the door he was being followed . Tino stopped and looked at Esbjørn. 

 

Esbjørn stared at him in return. Tino thought nothing of it and kept on walking. Esbjørn followed. Tino stopped again and looked back at Esbjørn. What? He finally signed a little impatient because he wanted to get out of the house before that twisted version of Denmark woke up. 

 

Shoes . Esbjørn signed back. You need shoes, don’t you? 

 

Tino looked down at his sock clad feet and wiggled his toes for good measure. He then felt rather bad for his reaction. Shoes would be nice, yes.

 

Esbjørn made a ‘wait here’ gesture and then hurried away. Tino watched him go and then looked at Hugo in his arms. “Don’t worry, little guy. Once we’re out of here I’m gonna get you some food. I can hear your stomach growling.” Tino whispered as he shifted Hugo a little. 

 

Esbjørn would return moments later with a pain of hardly worn boots. Tino recognized them immediately as army boots. Thick and sturdy with heavy laces. Perfect. “Kiitos. ” Tino softly said as he put Hugo down beside him. He was quick in lacing his boots up. Something he’s done a million times to this point. Esbjørn was watching him closely. He looked like he was going to jump in, to help Tino tie his laces, but Tino knew exactly what he was doing.

You’ve been to war? Esbjørn would sign when Tino was finished. 

 

Many times. Too many if you ask me, but what can you do? When your boss tells you to do something, you do it. Right? 

 

Wouldn’t know. I don’t have one. Surely you don’t either, right?

 

Tino frowned at that. What do you mean?

 

Esbjørn tilted his head to the side before he signed again. Nobody has bosses anymore. We rule our lands. 

 

Tino’s mind ran blank. So blank that he honestly didn’t have a response to that. That…makes no sense? 

 

Long story. Too long to stand around and talk about it. Especially if you want to get out of here before Dainsleif wakes. 

 

There was a silence as Tino looked at Esbjørn. He mentioned someone named Oliver and you kidnapping a child? He decided to move the subject along. Sealand, right? Did you really kidnap him? 

 

Even longer story. I didn’t kidnap him, no. 

 

But it was Sealand?

 

Yes. 

 

Then that’s where I need to go. Thank you, Esbjørn. 

 

Let me come with you? 

 

What?

 

Esbjørn looked pained as he signed this. You can handle yourself, I’ve seen that, but Oliver…You’re going to need all the help you can get. He isn’t someone to be messed with. Plus, I want to help Sealand get out of there. Let me help you. 

 

Like you helped with Dainsleif? 

 

Dainsleif is our leader, borderline untouchable amongst us Nordics, but you— you knocked him out so easily and so willingly. Even Rekko wouldn’t be as bold as you were. You did something I have never seen today, Tino. You held your own against Dainsleif and because of that I want to help you. I mean it. 

 

There was a tense silence between the two of them as Tino put his hands on his hips. Then he looked at the door. Fine. He would relent without much of a fight. Esbjørn was a good soul, he could see that. Not only that but he could use the help, he had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what was on the other side of that door. Help me get to Oliver. Please. 

 

Esbjørn smiled. It was a genuine smile that reached his eyes and made him look a little younger. He would then walk with Tino towards the door. Tino held on to Hugo’s leash and the dog was a little more at ease now that Dainsleif was out of sight. Still, Tino didn’t leave right away, he gave the house one last look. It was a mess of a house that screamed dysfunction. “May God give me strength.” He said out loud to himself and nobody else. This wasn’t going to be an easy ride. He could feel it. 

 

---

It was thanks to Arthur’s quick thinking that they weren’t waiting on everyone they needed for this to board a plane. 

 

As it stood, thanks to Arthur, Lukas, and Marius’s magic they were able to just teleport those needed to them. Which was both amazing and wild . Mainly because some of them were just going about their day and then bam ! They’re here now.

Andersen, poor, poor, poor Andersen was one of them. The guy had apparently just gotten out of the shower when he was suddenly pulled from his bathroom. He had a towel around his waist, thank the lord, but still . “What!?” He had gasped in alarm.

Liam had stopped everything to point and laugh at the poor man. Well, that got everyone's attention and soon Alfred was joining in with Liam. He was doubled over laughing at Andersen who was in nothing but a towel .  Andersen was living his absolute worst nightmare. Literally, who didn’t have this nightmare at least once in their life? Thankfully, Lukas had come to Andersen’s aid with a blanket. He would then usher Andersen away to explain the situation.

Andersen had been a test subject, it turned out, once they realized they could teleport someone from their home and to England, they did that for everyone else they needed. Thankfully , nobody else was in as compromising of a position as Andersen had been; however, Lovino, who had been the second person they teleported in was not happy . 

 

He had been shopping, he had his card extended out like he was giving to someone, a bag on his arm. He had sunglasses on his face, sunglasses that he put on his head and looked around at everyone in surprise. “... What the fuck!? ” He then exploded in a fit of Italian rage. Then he was speaking Italian. He was slapping the back of his hand in his palm as he raged at all of them in a language they don’t speak.

“Rom—Rom— Lovino! ” Ludwig suddenly yelled and that caused Lovino to flinch. 

“Who the fuck are you yelling at, you Potato Bastardo! Why the fuck am I! And where is my idiota of a brother!? This screams his doing! Feliciano! Where the fuck are you!?” 

 

“Lovino—”

 

“Don’t defend him! I’m giving the ass chewing a lifetime for this—”

 

“He’s been kidnapped. We need your help to get him back.” 

 

There was a tense and heavy silence that fell over the two of them as the words sank in. Lovino then frowned. “What do you mean he’s been fucking kidnapped? And what do I have to do with it?”

 

“Walk with me, I’ll explain.” And surprisingly Lovino would. The two would walk out to the back yard with Lovino listening with an intensity that nobody had seen before. 

 

“Hey, Dad,” Alfred walked up to Arthur and handed him an ice cold glass of water. It was needed because Arthur’s hands were shaking. He needed a moment to rest and to breathe. He wasn’t alone as Marius and Lukas were the same. It turns out transporting a country from one place to another took a lot out of a person. 

 

It also didn’t help that they also had to get Sweden, who was now being caught up to speed by Lukas. With Sweden was Ladonia. Ladonia was holding on to Sweden’s leg and looking more than a bit upset at the mention of his family being missing.   

 

Still, seeing Arthur's hands continue to shake  made Alfred feel a little bad about what he was going to ask next. 

 

“Yes?” Arthur took the water gratefully and sipped it rather tentatively. 

 

“You can say no, but do you have any more strength to send me home and get me back here again? I just…I just can’t shake this feeling that I need to get something.” 

 

“Oh,” Arthur swallowed down some more water. “I’m unsure about that, lad. If you were smaller. If you weren’t the third largest country  in the world, maybe, but as it stands, after bringing the others…” Arthur exhaled. 

 

“That’s okay—” 

 

“I have enough magic.” Marius offered as he stood. “But you may have to wait a day before we can bring you back. Can you do that?” 

 

“I want to be here when you open that mirror.”

 

“It’s not happening tonight, I’m afraid. We’re all sapped.” Arthur told Alfred. 

 

“If that’s the case then that would be appreciated, Marius, thank you.”

 

“What do you need to get anyways?” Marius inquired. 

 

“... Just something to maybe help us out should it get hairy. Or should I need to go into that freaky other world. You know?” 

 

“So long as it’s not guns. You know I hate those things.” Arthur grunted. 

 

“It’s not gonna be guns, Dad.” 

 

“Good.” Arthur looked pale as he rubbed at his temples. “I need an aspirin.”

 

“I think I have some in my car.” Ludwig suddenly offered, scaring not just Arthur but Alfred and Marius as result. Alfred’s eyes went to Lovino. Lovino was sitting on the couch; his shopping by his feet as he had his elbows on his knees and was staring intensely at the carpet. “Would you like me to get you one?”

 

“Appreciated, but not needed, I’m old. I have a stockpile of aspirins in my bathroom.” Arthur said as he stiffly stood up and then put his hand on his back. “And…I’m sorry, Ludwig. I tried to get them back tonight—”

 

Ludwig put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s alright. You’re doing your best, but right now it’s obvious. You need to rest.” 

 

“Yeah, Dad, you look like you’re about to pass out.” Alfred told him. “Get some rest.” 

 

Arthur sighed softly. “Tomorrow, Ludwig.” And he gently patted Ludwig’s shoulder. “We’ll get them back tomorrow, I promise.” and then he walked away mumbling: “Happy, frickin’ birthday to me.”

 

“Are you ready, Alfred?” Marius asked. “Make sure you have what you need by…let’s say…Ten AM your time?” 

 

“Sounds good to me.”

 

“No guns!” Came Arthur’s shout from somewhere in the house.

“Yeah, yeah!” Alfred shot back. 

 

Marius put a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “Whatever you need, I hope it’s worth it, because I’m going to pass out after this.” 

“Huh—” 

 

Then Alfred was gone, back in front of his own home, and true to his very words, Marius passed out when Alfred was transported away. Ludwig had been the one to catch him before he hit the floor. 

Chapter 5: Nathan

Notes:

What I like about the 2p's is that they're malleable. I can change them how I see fit. Especially the ones I don't see a lot of.

“Now, why do you play with Nathan, while I go and cook us something yummy.” Those were Oliver’s words to Peter as he pushed the boy into, what had to be, Nathan’s room. The room was small, painted a sky blue, there was a bed tucked against the wall. The bed was properly made up and the bedspread was blue with clouds along it. The pillow on the bed looked identical to the blanket.  There were a few toys scattered along the floor, nothing like the transformers that Peter liked or even the ninja’s that Japan got him into. Oh, and there was nobody named ‘Nathan’ to be seen.

Oliver tutted his tongue at this. “He probably thinks I’m still mad about that stunt he pulled with Sweden. Regardless, have fun, I’ll be back soon.” And the door shut and locked behind Peter. Peter would turn and test the knob to be sure, yep, it was locked. 

 

“Shit…” He cursed under his breath and pressed his head against the cool wood of the door. “Shit.” Peter would repeat as he felt his hands shake. He hoped to wake up from this nightmare, but he realized that he was pretty stuck and what's worse? It was all his fault. He never should have gone down to that basement but hindsight was twenty-twenty and now Peter had to find a way out of this mess. 

 

He wished he had a phone or something, but nope, he wasn’t allowed one. Not after what happened with him trying to eavesdrop on a meeting by lowering his phone in through an air vent… let’s just say it didn’t end well. 

 

“Okay,” he pulled his head away from the door. “I just have to get out of here. There’s a window right?” He turned and there was a window. It was small, but a window nonetheless. Something that he could open with ease. “For all his bravado he forgot about the window.” Peter scoffed. 

 

“ᴵ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵈᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ.”

Peter stopped at the voice. It was small but it was absolutely there. Peter knew for a fact he heard it. His heart dropped when he didn’t see anyone. His throat felt dry and his hands trembled slightly. 

 

“ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰᶦᵐ ᵃⁿᵍʳʸ.” The voice whispered and there was an urgency to that whisper as it trembled ever so slightly. Peter looked all over as he felt like eyes were staring at him, but he couldn’t see from where. 

 

“Hello?” Peter finally whispered. “I’m not going to hurt you, promise.” 

 

“ᴴᵉ ᵖʳᵒᵐᶦˢᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ…” The voice whimpered. “ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵇᵉˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰᶦᵈᵉ. ᴶᵘˢᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˢᵃᶠᵉ.” 

 

Peter got down to the floor to peer under the bed. Nobody there. “You don’t have to hide from me. I’m a good guy! A…” The word ‘Hero’ nearly tumbled from Peter’s lips and that reminded him of Alfred. So he tried again. “I’m the mighty nation of Sealand!” He boasted loudly and proudly while letting out a tense laugh.

“ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒ ⁿᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ.” The voice spoke firmly and full of confidence. Peter saw blackness move out of the corner of his eye and he jerked his head towards the movement but found nothing. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up on end. 

 

“Okay, you got me. I’m not, but I want to be!” Peter hopped to his feet. “No. I’m going to be!” He declared boldly as he pumped his fist upwards at his declaration. 

 

“ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ⁿᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ. ᴮᵉᶦⁿᵍ ᵃ ⁿᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ ᵐᵉᵃⁿˢ...ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ.” 

 

“A target! I mean, psh, yeah, during War World Two, I was a small target, but now? Now it’s rather…dull.” He huffed. 

 

“ᴰᵘˡˡ? ᴴᵒʷ ˡᵘᶜᵏʸ.” 

 

“What do you mean by that?” Peter walked over to the closet and opened it. Nothing but clothes greeted him. “Also you’re… really good at hiding.” He shut the closet. 

 

“ᴺᵒᵗ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃ ʰᶦᵈᶦⁿᵍ. ᴳᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵇᵉᶦⁿᵍ ᑫᵘᶦᵉᵗ. ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵗʳʸ ᶦᵗ.ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᑫᵘᶦᵉᵗ ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ˢᵘʳᵛᶦᵛᵉ. ᵀʰᵉ ˡᵉˢˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵗᵗᵉʳ.” Nathan paused and Peter felt a breeze by his neck making him turn, but nobody was there. He put his hand to the back of his neck and swallowed thickly. “ᴬᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᶦᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᵃ ᵐᶦᶜʳᵒⁿᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿ. ᵀʰᵉ ᵃᶜᵗᵘᵃˡ ⁿᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ. ᵀʰᵉʸ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ˡᵒᵘᵈ. ᵀᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵗᵒᵘᵍʰ.”

 

Peter gave an awkward laugh as he noted his previous question was still unanswered. He suddenly felt…afraid. His heart raced and his lips dried. ‘They need to be loud and tough to survive but the micronations need to be quiet.’ Peter just didn’t understand. “That’s not true. Matthew, where I’m from, is Canada and he’s quiet and shy. He doesn’t need to be loud or tough.”

 

“ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ. ᵀʰᵉ ʳᵘˡᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵈᶦᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ. ᵀʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸᵉʳˢ ᵈᶦᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵈᶦᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᵗ.” 

 

“What do you mean?” 

The closet door opened with a loud ‘creeeak’ of the hinges, which was insane because Peter just checked there. Then he was looking into two emerald green eyes. Eyes almost mimicking Arthur’s own eye color. Peter’s blue eyes widened once he realized he was looking at himself . This wasn’t just him, however, it was Nathan . 

 

Nathan had Oliver’s pinkish hue in his hair but it was slightly longer than Peter’s short boy cut as it was just below his chin in length. He had Arthur’s green eyes and freckles! Freckles all over his body from the looks of it. They ranged in hue too as some were lighter than others. He wore overalls and had a black undershirt on. Then he spoke. “You don’t belong here.” His voice was clear and firm and he meant each word before he shut the closet door. The door rattled slightly and his shadow stayed heavy at the bottom. This told Peter that Nathan most likely had his back to the door now. 

 

“ᴹᶦᶜʳᵒⁿᵃᵗᶦᵒⁿˢ ᵃʳᵉ...ʳᵃʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ. ᵀᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ. ᴵ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵃ ʳᶦˢᵏ ᶜᵒᵐᶦⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ˡᶦᶠᵉ. ᴼˡᶦᵛᵉʳ ʷᵃˢ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ᵗᵒ ʷᵉˡᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵉ ʷᶦᵗʰ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵃʳᵐˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ? ᵀʰᵉʸ'ʳᵉ ᵏᶦˡˡᵉᵈ. ˢᵉᵉⁿ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵇᵘʳᵈᵉⁿ. ᴵ ʳᵉᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ᴹᵒˡᵒˢˢᶦᵃ— ᴬˡᶦˢᵗᵃᶦʳ ᶜʳᵘˢʰᵉᵈ ʰᶦᵐ.” 

 

Peter let the words hang in the air. His form shook suddenly as he swallowed hard. “C—Crushed? Like spiritually, right?” 

 

“ᴺᵒ.” 

 

Peter’s hands shook slightly and he suddenly felt sick. His stomach twisted into violent knots, and his eyes blurred with tears. He wanted his Mama right now. Tino would hold him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, but Tino wasn’t here. 

 

“Are there any other micronations outside of… you? Wy? Seaborga?...Ladonia?” 

 

“ᴺᵒ. ᴵ ᵃᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ, ᵂᵉˡˡ... ᴵ ᵍᵘᵉˢˢ ʷᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ, ᴵ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵃʸ.”

 

“I have to get out of here!” The fear finally struck a cord inside of Peter as he jumped on the bed and went for the window. He reached for it, ready to open it for his freedom. 

 

“Ah!” Peter cried out in sudden and quick pain. It had happened so suddenly. He grabbed the window by its ledge and suddenly it was like he was shocked, but something more. He looked down at his palms and watched in horror as blackness danced around his palms for a moment before sinking into his flesh. The blackness reminded him of the tendrils that had grabbed all of them and forced them through the mirror.  For a moment he felt confused—

 

And then came the pain . 

 

It started as uncomfortable tingling down his arms. The tingling grew and grew until it was akin to pins and needles and then that pins and needles feeling got turned up to ten. It made Peter fall from the bed and he whined loudly as he laid face down on the ground, his hands out in front him shaking with pain as he let out a sob.

“ᴵ ʷᵃʳⁿᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᶦⁿᵈᵒʷ.” Nathan spoke quietly from the closet. Peter almost didn’t hear Nathan over the pain radiating off of his arms. Peter’s arms shook as another soft sob left his mouth. 

 

“Go to hell.” He managed to wheeze to Nathan. 

 

“ᴬˡʳᵉᵃᵈʸ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ.”

 

Peter didn’t know what was worse. The pain, or the realization that he wasn’t getting out of this situation without a fight.

There was a knock at the door and the lock clicked signalling it was now unlocked. “Oh boys! Cupcakes are done and on the table!” Oliver called from the other side of the door and Peter got up and wiped his hands on his legs. The tingling was still there, but wasn’t as intense. It was bearable for the time being as it slowed to a dull prickling sensation. 

 

Peter looked over to the closet at Nathan. Nathan was peeking out of the closet staring back at him. Then Nathan spoke. “ᵀᵃᵏᵉ ᵐʸ ᵃᵈᵛᶦᶜᵉ. ᴰᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵃᵗ ʰᶦˢ ᵇᵃᵏᵉᵈ ᵍᵒᵒᵈˢ.”

Peter sat up and looked at the unlocked door. “Are you coming?”

 

“ᴴᵉ'ˢ ˢᵗᶦˡˡ ᵐᵃᵈ. ᴺᵒ.” 

 

“What did you do to make him so upset?” 

 

The closet door shut and Nathan pressed his body against it once more. Nathan’s voice quivered ever so slightly. “ᴵ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᶦᵗ.” 

 

Peter didn’t pry as he got up and slowly walked up to the door. His sock clad feet didn’t make a noise as he padded out of the room and looked around at his surroundings. It was just a hallway with a dead end and no windows. There was another door to the right, but Peter was sure that was a bathroom. He peeked around the corner and saw a living room. The living room was rather empty. No TV playing Bluey , no lively British soap opera playing, nothing. As there wasn’t a TV. Just a chair, a couch, and a coffee table. 

 

There were decorations, like a china cabinet that looked to be filled with nicknacks of sorts. 

 

“—What are you doing?”

 

“Ah!” Peter screamed when Oliver seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Oliver leaned down and pinched his cheek affectionately. “No Nathan?” He asked innocently.

“Uh…no. He said you were still mad at him, so he wanted to stay in his room.”

“Hmph. That boy is so stubborn.” Oliver sighed and let go of Peter’s cheek. Peter rubbed at his cheek. “Oh well, more goods for us! He’ll just miss out.” Oliver turned and winked at Peter and led him by the wrist towards the dining room. The dining room was just shy of the open kitchen. It smelt nice like vanilla and cinnamon. On the table was some tea in a teapot, a couple of tea cups. Only two like he expected Nathan not to show. There were some tea cakes and some —

 

“Are those Runeberg tortes?” If Peter had a tail it’d be wagging with happiness. He loved his Mama’s Runeberg tortes but they were only around for a month out of the year and even then it wasn’t a guarantee he’d get one.

“The very ones.” Oliver sat down. “I know you live with…” Oliver paused and waved his hand. At that wave the teapot lifted itself up and started to pour the tea on its own. “That Sweden fellow. Don’t be shy. I know they’re your favorites.”

 

Oh shy, he wasn't. Peter grabbed a torte with glee and didn’t wait. He used a spoon and bit into it. It tasted… delicious! He happily took another bite. “Mmmm…” Peter kicked his feet gleefully at the taste of jam and rum. 

 

“I was hoping to pick your brain?”

 

“Pick my brain?!”

 

“Ask a questions, dear. I just want to… speak with you.” 

 

Oliver spoke again and his voice was very tense and it was something Peter was quick to pick up on. “And I know that Sweden lives with Finland. Is it true, are they married?” The teapot stopped pouring and moved to pour tea in Peter’s cup. 

“Oh, yeah. They are.” Peter was fixated on the tea pot that was pouring tea into his cup. The tea was black and the smell was unmistakable London Fog . He continued to eat his Torte. Unable to stop himself. 

 

“That is so interesting .” Oliver brought the tea pot back and then the sugar spoon started to move and put two tablespoons of sugar in his tea. Then the sugar moved to Peter and the cream pot started to move to Oliver. “Do they get along? Do they treat you well?” 

 

Peter originally was going to be tight lipped but he found his lips to be quite loose . Maybe a little too loose.  “Oh yeah! They’re the best! Berwald is big and strong and he teaches me how to carve furniture and Tino…well…he’s my Mama! He treats me so well! Better than that smelly ol Arthur!” He just couldn’t stop talking and that must have been the wrong thing to say as all at once the floating objects fell with a clatter and it made Peter flinch at the sudden and loud noise.

“Your… Mama ?” Oliver asked and the air was suddenly electric as Peter felt the hairs along his arms and neck bristle. “Pray tell?” 

 

“Well…it’s just that he’s married to Berwald and…” Peter found himself slouching a little in his seat but he couldn’t stop talking.

“Don’t slouch.”

Then, against his will, Peter was ramrod straight. “Tell me, how exactly did you come to live with Sweden and Finland?”

Peter didn’t want to tell him, he tried to keep his mouth shut. It was like his body was fighting this need to stay quiet as his eyes rolled back for a brief moment while he looked at the ceiling. “I— I sold myself on Ebay and Sweden bought me! ” He finally blurted out against his will and he just kept going . 

 

“Sweden bought me and brought me home and it was actually a fight! I remember Mama yelled at him, he said ‘You can’t just buy children, Berwald!’ and Berwald argued: “Mic’nation.” and apparently that did it for Mama because he realized I was a micronation and not an actual child! He welcomed me with open arms and I’ve called him Mama ever since!” Then it was like a weight was lifted off of Peter’s shoulders as he started to pant after that rapid fire of information that left his mouth.

Then, he looked at his almost gone torte and realized just why he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

 

“Yes.” Oliver said rather matter of factly as he sipped his tea. “I added a little something to help you… ease up, as the kids say.”

 

Peter looked at Oliver. “Oh… I don’t like this!” He blurted out and then covered his mouth with both of his hands. He hadn’t meant to say that!

 

“Don’t worry, I won’t be mad at you. I’m just curious, that's all.” Oliver snapped his fingers and the tea that had spilt from the crashing pot cleaned itself up, as did the sugar and cream. “Now, this is where I’m curious. You sold yourself on Ebay?”

“It might have actually been Pirate Bay!” Peter blurted out. “I can’t remember, I get the two mixed up!”

 

“Pirate Bay? What is that?”

 

“A website for torrenting things like movies or shows. It’s still up to this day if you can believe it!”

“When did you sell yourself?”

Peter tried, oh god did he try, he shook his head from side to side and bit his lip, but he just couldn’t stop . “2008!”

“Nearly two decades ago? And Arthur let you?”

“He didn’t care! He was happy when I left!” 

 

Peter thought calling Tino ‘Mama’ was the wrong thing to say. No. That was the wrong thing to say, by far. The lights flickered, the tea cup and spoon clattered along the table again . Then the table cleared itself. Everything flew off of it with a shattering force. The objects clattered, banged, and shattered with such force that Peter could only flinch at the noise. “Is that so ?” Oliver then chuckled, it was a weak and throaty chuckle that made Peter start to recoil. 

 

“I thought the man a fool, but it’s more than that. To throw out your own child as if he were nothing !” Oliver sneered. The sneer was twisted and cruel.

“I mean, I hate him, so it’s okay! I love living with Sweden and Finland!”

“I understand your hatred of the man.” Oliver was surprisingly calm about Peter’s statement. “It seems all he does is push people away. Push them away so when they leave he won’t miss them. What caused such a rift between him and the ones he raised?” Oliver didn’t know and maybe that’s why he looked at Peter like he owned all the answers. Because Peter did own some answers didn’t he? “How did he treat you?”

Peter bit his lip, he could taste blood almost instantly. He tried to keep quiet, to not talk or say a word, but like all the other times he just couldn’t stop. “Indifferent?” Peter felt the word come out as a question, the way he truly felt about England in all honesty. “I mean, I’m not a nation—” his hand went to his mouth. “I mean, I am a nation!— I’m not a nation! Not like Alfred and Matthew! I never wanted to be anything more than like them! They’re both just so cool and he loves them so much! But he won’t look at me the way he does them!” Peter felt emotion bubble behind his words, an emotion he couldn’t quite place. An emotion he had tried so hard to suppress . Once he started he just couldn’t stop. “He didn’t care. I told him I was leaving for Sweden that I was bought, and he…he didn’t care . He didn’t fight for me, he waved me away and said ‘good riddance.’ .” Tears were running down Peter’s cheeks now as he let out a sudden and harsh sob. 

 

“Oh, you poor boy.” Oliver reached over and patted Peter’s hair. His hand was cold to the touch as it raked through Peter’s blonde locks. “He ignored you in favor of Alfred and Matthew?”

“Not even Matthew.” Peter whispered as he wiped his eyes.

“Oh yes, I’m aware of how Matthew is treated.” 

 

“He’s invisible to nearly everyone. Everyone confuses him for America, even Arthur called him by the wrong name on more than one occasion… Even Mama thinks he’s Alfred.”

“But you see him?”

Peter nodded and gave a weak sniffle. “I do. He sees me, he understands me. He’s one of the few to understand me, I feel like we both just want the same thing. We just…we just want to be seen.” Peter wiped his wet cheek with his hand.

 

“Oh, I’m sure—” Oliver pulled Peter into his side. He was surprisingly warm. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get the recognition you deserve. You and Matthew both, and if all goes well, maybe in another decade or so, I can bring Alfred in.”

“Decade?!” Peter was still so surprised that he just couldn’t keep his mouth shut, that whatever Oliver had slipped him wasn’t going to stop him from running his mouth any time soon.

“Of course, you’re here to stay!” Oliver ruffled Peter’s hair. “You and Matthew both! So, turn that frown upside down, because Matthew will be here soon! I just have to talk to James!” Oliver put both of his index fingers against the corners of Peter’s mouth and pulled upwards so he was forcing the boy to smile. “And not only will I love you both more than Arthur ever had, but I’ll train you and teach you what it’s like to be my son.”

“Mama—”

“Isn’t here and won’t be a problem!”

I want Mama—” Peter had never felt so childish than at that moment. Still, he was silenced when Oliver put a hand on his mouth.

“Silence . ” Oliver demanded and then Peter could finally relax as whatever had a hold on him released him and he stopped speaking his mind. Oliver smiled and let go of Peter’s mouth. “Well, this has been fun, you have provided me with a lot of useful information.” Oliver waved his hands and the broken teacups, the teapot, and everything else that had been flown across the room started to clean themselves up. Any spilt tea dissolved, any cake that had fallen to the floor had moved itself to the nearest rubbish bin. “Why don’t you go and play with Nathan?”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice. He understood exactly why Nathan refused to leave the room and he understood that if Nathan had managed to make Oliver mad, then he must have faced something brutal as a punishment.

Peter returned to the room and shut the door gently. He said nothing as he walked in and proceeded to sit with his back to the closet door. He brought his knees to his chest, shut his eyes, and sighed. 

 

Nathan wouldn’t take long to speak. “ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗᵉ ʰᶦˢ ᶠᵒᵒᵈ, ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ?” 

 

“Yeah, I did.”

 

“ᵂᵉˡˡ, ᶦᵗ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳˢᵉ, ᴵ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉ.”

 

“How so?”

 

“ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵃˢᵖᶦⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃᶦʳ, ᵒʳ ᵗᵘʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ ᵇˡᵘᵉ.” 

 

“...Did he poison you?” Peter asked. 

 

Nathan didn’t answer, yet, that was an answer in its own right. 

Peter shut his eyes. He thought about Oliver and what he had said. That Matthew was out there but with someone named ‘James.’ “Nathan, who’s James?”

 

“ᴶᵃᵐᵉˢ? ᴶᵃᵐᵉˢ ᶦˢ ⁿᶦᶜᵉ. ᴾʳᵒᵇᵃᵇˡʸ ᵗʰᵉ ⁿᶦᶜᵉˢᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ. ᴺᶦᶜᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᴬˡᶦˢᵗᵃᶦʳ.”

 

“...Who’s Alistair?”

 

“ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ.” And by the tone and the way his voice shook just ever so slightly, Peter was inclined to believe Nathan. Just the mention of this ‘Alistair’ made the hair on Peter’s arms stand on end. 

 

He decided to leave it at that for the time being. 

Notes:

Let me know if I need to add what Nathan is saying in paratheses! I know subscript is a little hard to read!

Now that all the characters are in play, it's time to have some fun! I will say, don't expect everyone to follow a particular order from where on out. It'll probably flip flop between characters considering there are so many.

Chapter 6: Matthew James Williams.

Notes:

This was way longer than I anticipated and what's more I wanted to add MORE to this chapter but I suppose what I wanted to add can wait for the next chapter.

The twelve years war ended with Canada being handed over to Arthur. Matthew wasn’t going to say that his whole world was flipped on its head, in all honesty, he saw it coming. Mainly because Arthur had been showing up to talk to him, to give him things and even make him food (Well, try to) because well…Francis couldn’t afford to take care of Matthew anymore. It was an open secret and one Matthew knew well.

Matthew was there during the treaty of paris at the end of the war. He stood behind Francis and gently rubbed his father’s shoulder as he sobbed his rights away. Matthew put both of his hands on Francis’s shoulders and gently thumbled the knots away. Surprisingly, Matthew’s eyes were dry. Maybe because he saw this coming, or maybe because in the end this was always going to happen. Arthur was a greedy man and he never tried to hide that part of himself, he always wanted both America and Canada for his own. 

 

And just like that, Matthew was taken away from his Papa. There was no fight from Matthew, no disagreement, as he followed behind Arthur.

Once swept into Arthur’s home, Arthur changed his name, as his name was ‘Matthieu’ you can imagine the creativity behind his new name was quite something. Truthfully, his name was just Anglicized and nothing more.

After that?

Well after that came the 1770’s and it’s pretty obvious what happened around that time. Matthew was immediately grabbed by both sides, one side by his brother demanded he choose to side with him, while Arthur demanded Matthew stay loyal to him. He felt like he was being ripped in half as he was pulled from one side and then to the other. 

Matthew felt for his brother, really, he did, but he just couldn’t . He needed guidance; he was still a teenager and needed help. So, he chose Arthur. Something that had hurt Alfred. It had hurt Alfred so much that Alfred demanded soldiers invade Quebec and Montreal and after that Matthew was thrusted into a war he didn’t want to be a part of to start with and the worst part? It stayed like that. With Matthew being in a brutal game of tug of war between Alfred and Arthur.

 

Matthew may have been a teenager when Arthur took him from France, but the very first time Alfred kidnapped him was when he became an adult.

Yeah, America kidnapped him, in 1812, in an attempt to twist England’s arm. (That and the burning of the white house may have something to do with it as well.) It had been quite the experience. One minute, Matthew was making tea in England’s home, not having talked to America since the revolutionary war had ended, and the next he was suddenly fighting with his own brother as Alfred had caught him unawares.

The two of them were on the floor, Matthew kicking and screaming as he tried to get away, but Alfred was obviously a lot stronger than Matthew.

Matthew was tied, gagged, and hoisted over Alfred’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Mattie, I’ll take better care of you than England!” He had declared as he walked out the door while whistling. “You can be my nineteenth state after Louisiana!” 

 

Matthew kicked, screamed, and thrashed as violently as he could but Alfred had always been stronger than him. Always. 

 

Matthew was saved, thank god, by Arthur who had managed to come home just in time. Alfred had dropped Matthew just in time to avoid a cricket bat to the head. The two had come to blows with Matthew, once again, forced to pick a side. Obviously, he went with Arthur during this one.

Once saved, Arthur was not happy. “You have to grow up, Matthew. You have to. I cannot stress this enough!” He yelled as Matthew patched up his busted lip. Arthur reached up and grabbed Matthew with both of his hands so Matthew was looking at him now. “I will not always be there to protect you. You need to be stronger.” 

 

And Matthew took that to heart. After that he started to spar more with Australia and New Zealand. It wasn’t much, but it was something. He needed to protect himself, Arthur wanted him to protect himself and Matthew was going to do just that. He felt himself grow stronger as he trained, he became fast, and his hits, while not as hard of a hitter as Alfred’s, were still strong enough to send Australia flying if done right. 

 

Arthur watched from a distance, he never intervened, never interjected, only watched. His eyes never gave anything away during this time, but Matthew always wondered if, like everyone else, he saw only Alfred during this time and not Matthew. 

For nearly a hundred years, Matthew was stuck in the middle between England and America, stuck in this pitiful game of clashing egos, but it all changed when England sat him down. At this point America had attempted to kidnap him a total of three times, but each time Matthew managed to hold his own. At least enough to get Alfred to back off.

“I’m giving you independence.” 

 

“What?” Matthew blinked in surprise at those words. 

 

“Not fully, you’ll be my commonwealth, you still see the queen as your ruler, you still follow my rules, but as far as the government goes? It’s up to you.” 

 

“You’re serious?” Matthew whispered as Arthur got up from the table.

“Quite, I’m tired of Alfred trying to use you to get to me and I’m sure you are as well?” and Matthew nodded rather numbly. “Besides, you’ve proven to me you can hold your own and you’ve gotten rather big…” Arthur gestured to all of Matthew as he said that and it is true. Matthew had gained not only in muscle but in size as he reached nearly six foot and stood above Arthur a bit. “In short: get out of my house, I’m tired of having you here. You’re big enough to care for yourself and you're wasting my resources.” Arthur then turned and washed his cup.

Matthew knew that Arthur was masking his true feelings behind those blunt words. He’s lived with Arthur for nearly a hundred years now, he knew the man. He knew Arthur wasn’t looking at him because his eyes were filled with tears as he meticulously washed that teacup of his two times too many.

Matthew smiled as he came up to Arthur and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a rare hug, to his surprise Arthur didn’t push him off, instead he reached up and touched Matthew’s arm with a shaking hand. “Why does he have to be so stubborn, Matthew?” Arthur whispered.

“We both know where his stubbornness comes from, Arthur.” Matthew only patted Arthur’s shoulder silently and that made Arthur sigh as he straightened up and stopped his quivering lips.

“Regardless.” He coughed and tapped Matthew’s arm. “Go home. You can be alone now and hopefully this will get your brother off of your back.” 

 

Matthew had to agree. He would pack up and ten minutes later he had his stuff in a suitcase, Matthew never had a lot, never. “Goodbye…Dad.” Matthew whispered to Arthur as Arthur was at the kitchen again and looking out the window by the sink. Arthur put his hand against his eyes and then just waved Matthew away.

Arthur would be right…for the most part. Matthew was left alone for about a week trying to set up his government if he wanted a Prime Minister, a King, or a president before Alfred kicked the doors of his parliament in, something Matthew saw coming once Alfred heard the news.

“What. The. Fuck.” Alfred hissed between gritted teeth as he lowered his foot. Matthew, for the first time in centuries, looked at his brother, and smiled . It was a smile that was all teeth as his violet eyes narrowed. 

 

“Problem?” Matthew asked as he grabbed a flower from his desk. It was a beautiful tiger lily that he had picked himself.

“He just gave you independence?” Alfred snarled as he stepped up to Matthew. 

 

“Amazing what’s given to you if you just wait—” The flower was slapped out of his hand as Alfred grabbed Matthew by his collar and pulled him in so they were nose to nose.

“He just gave you independence!? ” Alfred yelled in rage and Matthew could feel the anger that thrummed through Alfred’s veins at that moment. The indignant rage that he was, honestly, rather justified in having. All the lives he lost fighting for his freedom, all that bloodshed, and Matthew didn’t have to do anything.

At least, that’s how Alfred saw it. 

 

Alfred wasn’t there when Matthew would comfort Arthur when he cried over Alfred leaving. Alfred wasn’t there to see Matthew grow up and learn to fight for himself. Alfred wasn’t there. So, of course Alfred wouldn’t know the work Matthew actually did to earn his freedom by simply being there. That’s always how things were for Matthew, he was simply there . He was there with Fance, until France couldn’t afford to care for him anymore, and he was there for Arthur. Unlike Alfred who walked into a room and took it by storm and let everyone know within a five mile radius that he was there and who he was, Matthew was just there and existing.

They stared at one another, neither speaking. 

 

Alfred shook his head angrily then he pointed at Matthew. His finger shaking in his anger.  “Fuck. You.” He hissed between gritted teeth and then stormed off, crushing the Tiger Lily beneath his boot. “This isn’t over!” He declared in his ire before slamming the door with such force it would have broken if it wasn’t metal.

 

Matthew sighed as he leaned down and picked the flower up. Then, he snapped his fingers to a worker and the worker came up to him. “I’ve decided: I want a Prime Minister.” He told the worker and they nodded eagerly as they wrote it down. Matthew threw the flower in the trash. “And the first thing I want to discuss when voting is done is putting up some sort of border between the US and Canada, if possible, of course.”

“Yes, Mr. Kirkland.” The worker said and Matthew shook his head.

“No, I’m tired of the last name Kirkland. Not only that, but I’m independent, remember? I think it’s time for a new last name.” He tapped his fingers along his desk.

“Y—Yes, of course! And what would you like your new last name to be?” They asked nervously. 

 

Matthew exhaled loudly. “Williams.” He said after a few moments of silence. “It’s the most popular last name in Canada for a reason, right? It’s perfect for me.”

 

“Matthew Williams…I like it.” The Worker hummed as they wrote it down. “Fits you.”

Alfred was true to his word in that it wasn’t over. He was tenacious, always was, and always will be. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was just as greedy as Arthur if given the chance. There were no more kidnappings, so that was nice, but there was a lot of arguing. A lot.

“Give me Montana!” Alfred demanded as Matthew sat with his Prime Minister, the year was 1866.

“And why would we do that?” Matthew asked as he looked over paperwork. “In fact, I don’t even know of this ‘Montana’ you speak of?”

Alfred snarled. “Mattie, I am warning you. Give me. Montana.”

“Gentleman!” The Prime Minister chuckled nervously. “Let’s just take a second to breathe here—”

“Denied.” Matthew stamped the paperwork. “Better luck next time, Al.”

“God fucking—Matthew, this isn’t funny, you aren’t using that territory, I am, and not only that it’s a union state, it belongs to me, I know it does.”

Matthew put his hands in his lap and then he chuckled. “It doesn’t matter if I’m ‘using’ the territory or not, Al. What matters is that it’s mine and until stated otherwise, you can’t have it.” 

 

Of course, Alfred was good at getting his way, it would take time, and effort, and most importantly, Resources , but in the end he would get Montana in 1889. He slammed that paperwork down in front of Matthew. “Fucking deny this, Bitch!” He declared loudly and with the biggest smile on his face.

Matthew chuckled as he shrugged. “Hands are tied, I suppose. Take it. I wasn’t using it anyways. It's just some hunk of land. I don’t see what the big deal is—”

Alfred punched Matthew across the face. The Prime Minister had to physically separate the two as they rolled around trying to get the other in a headlock. 

 

“You two are so childish, you know that?!” The Prime Minister had yelled once he got them apart. Matthew had a bruise on his cheek, but that was fine, Alfred had a bite on his arm.

“ He started it! ” They both yelled in unison while pointing at the other.

 

The Prime Minister threw his arms up. “I’m writing a letter to England!” He declared and Alfred was gone in seconds.

 

Still, as much as they both didn’t want to admit it, they were still neighbors and brothers at heart (and looks as they were twins after all.) So, the animosity between them began to wane when the 1900’s rolled around. To be fair, by that point both were pretty well settled in. 

 

With the turn of the century came something terrifying. War World One. A war Matthew was immediately involved in due to England declaring war on Germany in 1914. Alfred wouldn’t join in for another three years. They were allies, of course, and Matthew was thankful for that.

Matthew remembered many days being in those god awful trenches, head in Alfred’s lap as he just sobbed. Sobbed uncontrollably. Alfred was always there for him during these unexplained fits. He understood. 

 

Fun fact: The first time Matthew met Feliciano was in those trenches. The man had hopped down so suddenly during gun fire. He had a blade in his hand and he was crying . Crying like he didn’t really want to be doing this, but still he charged for Matthew, that blade drawn ready to slash. Matthew had a gun, Matthew had the gun pointed at Feliciano but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull the trigger for some reason, he felt frozen, this was the first nation outside of his own brother that he was facing and it…it terrified him.

Alfred had been quicker, pushing Matthew out of the way and kicking Feliciano. Feliciano flew, being no match for the much stronger nation. Alfred hadn’t been so kind or reserved as he shot and fired, killing Feliciano. Alfred was shaking. “He’ll be back.” He had whispered to Matthew. “But we need to move, we’ve been compromised, come on! I don’t think I can take Germany one on one!” He grabbed Matthew’s wrist and the two of them ran through the trenches. Matthew looked back at Feliciano’s body, despite being on opposite sides, Alfred had covered him with a sheet.

 

Matthew was glad the war was over just a year later. 

 

To quote Star Wars, Matthew felt a disturbance one day out of the blue. Something had been changed and he was needed. He made it to his border to see people standing there, Alfred amongst them. That border patrol he wanted back in 1864 wouldn’t be built until the 1920’s and it wasn’t even Matthew that started the border patrol. It was Alfred. They met at the border and Alfred just shrugged. “Sorry, bro.” He said as he fixed the hat on his head. “ New boss wants some sort of patrol to see what’s coming in and out. Same with Mexico. You understand right?”

Matthew shrugged. His breath crystallized before them as the temperature was cold and dropping. “I suppose so. I’ll talk to my boss to make sure it’s vise-versa.”

There was a silence before Alfred reached over the border and took Matthew’s hand. There was a silence as they just stood there and watched the people speak to one another about what their job would be.

 

“Nothing will be the same after this, will it?” Matthew asked.

“No. I don’t think so.” Alfred admitted as he scratched his face. They tightened their hand holding ever so slightly. It reminded Matthew of back…back before they were colonies, back to when they were just children, free and running around together. They would let go of one another, their fingers grazing for just a moment before they went their separate ways.

Then came the worst one. 

 

War World Two. 

 

Or the time Canada was entirely forgotten by everyone and everything. Alfred took all the credit, all the fame, all the hero worship and Matthew was just there. When he meant everyone forgot about him, he meant everyone , even Arthur forgot about him during this time. To be fair, they were all busy trying to counter the axis powers and Matthew was…he was just there. 

 

That didn’t mean he didn’t fight. 

 

No, he invaded Italy with the rest of them. In fact he even led an attack on the heart of Italy and this time, when he and Italy went face to face Matthew didn’t hesitate.

Something nobody gives Feliciano credit for was the fact that when needed he was fast . Yes, just a little push and he gave in most of the time, but if cornered he could and would attack. Attack he did. It was like Matthew was back in those trenches, Feliciano had a blade and was charging, only this time there were no tears. Feliciano slashed, Matthew dodged just barely as Feliciano was good with a blade. Matthew was led to believe that Feliciano was some sniveling coward and on some level, yes, he was. Yet, here and now? Feliciano was giving it his all and that was making Matthew smile. It was that same smile he gave Alfred in 1864, a smile that was all teeth and deadly.

Feliciano slashed, Matthew dodged and brought his hand down on Feliciano’s wrist to try and knock the blade out of his hand, it didn’t work, and instead, Feliciano used this against him by bashing his head against Matthew's in a headbutt. This caused Matthew’s glasses, Quebec, to fall from his face as he was forced to take a step back. Feliciano used this to his advantage, grabbed Matthew’s wrist on his own and judo flipped Matthew over his shoulder as if Matthew wasn’t twice his size and weight!

Matthew had the wind knocked out of him from this attack and suddenly the blade was pressed against his neck. “Give up.” Feliciano demanded through gritted teeth. “Just give up. I don’t want to hurt you, Matthew.” That was the first time in literal months someone had said his name and it made Matthew tear up. 

 

“You know who I am?” He asked.

“Of course, you’re Canada.” Feliciano had said and Matthew was pained to use this moment to grab the knife from Feliciano’s hand while he was distracted. He grabbed the knife and pulled Feliciano in so he could plant both of his feet on Feliciano’s stomach and flipped Feliciano over him.

Matthew was up, blade in his hand and by the time Feliciano leaped back to his feet, Matthew charged and he stabbed Feliciano through the stomach. Feliciano gasped loudly at this and Matthew pulled him in like it was a grotesque hug of sorts. “I am so sorry.” Matthew whispered to Feliciano.

Feliciano went down and Matthew quietly covered his body. He’d be back. They always come back. Always.

Alfred, his own brother, forgot who Matthew was during this stressful time as Matthew felt himself grow more and more invisible, but Feliciano remembered Matthew and that…that was something.

 

Matthew continued to stay invisible up until the late 70’s and that was honestly…sad. Yeah, he was in the UN same with the rest of them, but still everything he did was often reflected upon America, everything America, America, America. Alfred more or less became the police of the world and Matthew was in his shadow. Then one day, in 1976 Alfred kicked his door in as Matthew was looking at some documents on parliament hill. Matthew nearly dropped the documents as Alfred pointed at him.

“You! You’re perfect!”

“I’m sorry?”

“That! Perfect! You’re just what we need, Mattie!”

 

“What are you talking about, Al—”

Then, Alfred had Matthew wrapped in his arms, Matthew’s head squeezed between Alfred’s bicep and chest. “I’m forming a group. A big group! And you’re perfect for it!”

“A group?”

“Yep! I’m calling it the G8! I wanted China for our eighth member and all, but he didn’t fit just what I was looking for and then it struck me, You! You’re perfect for our eighth member!” 

 

“Wait, who’s all in it?”

“You, Me, Arthur, Francis, Feliciano—and Lovino.—Ludwig— and the defunct Gilbert.—and Kiku!”

Matthew was then hoisted up to his feet, his vase knocked over and flowers spilling. The lilies were then accidently crushed by him and Alfred as they ran out. “Where are we going!?”

“To the first official meeting, duh! Keep up!”

“What?!”

 

Boom, Canada was back to being his own nation just like that. He had a seat at the most powerful meetings in the world next to people who’ve been his allies for centuries and people who were once his enemies but now his friends.  Though, it didn’t come without some repercussions at the start.

“Why is he here and not China? China would have been a better fit than Canada.” Arthur, yes, Matthew’s own father, had said and then he looked at Matthew. “No offense Matthew.”

“Some taken.” Matthew huffed.

“I dunno, I think Canada is perfect!” Feliciano said with a smile. 

 

“Agreed.” Ludwig had said as he looked over documents. “Canada has actively worked with us all before to avoid any potential wars. He has plenty of resources which includes oil, and plenty more. While China was a good candidate there’s just too much against him for such a seat. China is too controlled and he just doesn't have the same democracy as we have. While he has the power and resources, I think Canada is a better fit.”

“Agreed!” Alfred yelled. 

 

All of this to say one important thing about Matthew. While there have been moments, he was not so daisy waiting for his day to wilt. His life had been built, shaped, and molded since before he was grown. From 1763 all the way to now, he had been made to do one thing. Survive. He wasn’t just Alfred’s shadow, he was the spine of the rocky mountains, the coldness of Nunavut, and the beauty of the aurora borealis all rolled into one.

It’s why, when he opened his eyes after being unconscious for an unknown amount of time and realized he was in a room that he didn’t recognize immediately looked at his leg as everything came rushing back to him. The mirror, the black tendrils, and his leg popping out of its socket. His right knee was huge and nearly bursting out of the seams of his black pants. He tried to move, but that just sent a jolt of pain down his leg and made him hiss in pain.

“Tabarnak.” He swore through gritted teeth. This was not good, not in the slightest. Still, he observed his surroundings. Well, observing his surroundings the best he could, he didn’t have Quebec on his face and with him being near-sighted it was a little hard to see.  He was in a bed and not chained up in a basement, so that was nice. The bed was just that, a bed, and not a cot, the blanket looked clean, and he was clearly given some water by the looks of it as the water was on the nightstand. The room was decently sized if not maybe a tad messy? Clothes were strewn along the floor, but outside of that it was fine. The clothes looked like flannel shirts, a few jeans, some socks. So, that was good, but he knew better than to let his guard down. He knew to be on edge, to expect the unexpected.

And unexpected it was.

He could hear the heavy steps of someone’s footsteps coming down the hallway towards the room. They weren’t quiet, not like him, Matthew had always been quiet, when he walked he learned how to balance his weight on the halls of his feet instead of on his heels.

So, he was prepared to meet his mysterious savior, or the one who kidnapped him in the first place. He didn’t know which.

It would take roughly thirty seconds, those thirty seconds felt like thirty years waiting for that door to open and when it would…

Matthew’s voice died in his throat.

He was staring at…himself, but more rugged, more outdoorsy. This version of him had wild unkempt curls that were put into a ponytail, he was strong too, burly and bulky in the right places. He had on a pair of sunglasses, but those were resting on his head and not on his face. He was also hairy. He had thick blonde hair on his arms. His flannel was unbuttoned on the top and, yeah, Matthew saw thick hair poking out of there as well. Matthew was never hairy, Francis was, but he wasn’t. This man didn’t look happy either as he strolled in.

“Good, you’re awake.” This version of him grunted. “Here I feared you were in a coma.” There was no genuine concern in his voice. 

Matthew didn’t speak as he stared at this stranger. The words ‘Who are you?’ died on his tongue. He stared at this other him and he felt confusion rise. “You look like me.” He settled on saying.

“Yeah, I’d say so. Then again, so does this guy?” The stranger showed Matthew his own phone and on the phone was a picture of him and Alfred. Alfred had his arm wrapped around Matthew’s shoulder in a hug. Alfred had taken that picture at the last summit because it’s ‘the summit to remember!’ It was the summit he, Feliciano, Lovino, Alfred, and England all got kicked out of for the following reasons. Alfred was being his usual loud self, Matthew got kicked out because he was mistaken for Alfred, then Alfred was kicked out. Then Lovino was kicked out for trying to stab England with a letter opener. Feliciano was then kicked out for napping so hard that he was snoring, and England got kicked out for throwing his still hot tea in France’s face. It was most certainly a summit to remember. On the upside, Matthew and Alfred got to spend the rest of the summit at the arcade, so it wasn’t all bad. 

 

“Do you not have a brother?” Matthew asked.

“Oh, I have plenty, but none that look Identical to me. Not like this.” He hummed as he looked at the picture again. “If I had to guess, that’s… America? But that can’t be right.”

“It is right.” Matthew swallowed hard. 

 

“Hm.” This stranger looked back at Matthew’s phone. “Looks nothing like my America.”

“And you are…Canada? But that can't be right, because I’m Canada.” 

 

“That is right, and now I'm assuming you understand the problem?” 

 

“What’s your name?”

 

“James.” 

 

“Oh, how…interesting. That's my middle name.”

 

“I know, I saw your wallet.” 

 

There was a silence between them yet again and Matthew shifted his weight awkwardly in the bed. “Okay, I’m just going to come out and ask it: What on earth dragged me here and was it you?”

 

“Nah.” James said. “That isn’t my style. That was Oliver most likely.”

 

“Oliver?”

 

“England. At least, My England, and my father, but…” James sighed and rubbed his nose. “I suppose that’s kind of besides the point.”

“Don’t really see him like that, do you?”

 

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business.” James was curt in his response and honestly Matthew deserved such a response. It made him put his hands up quickly to try and defuse the situation.

“Apologies.”

“Also, speak up. I can barely hear you.” James sucked on his teeth as he sneered at Matthew. “Do you talk like that regularly?”

“It’s become a—”

“Speak. Up. That mumbling shit is already grating on my nerves.” James started to pace back and forth and Matthew looked at him. Looked at how he grabbed on to his own arms in a bruising grip, clawing at his own flesh at least enough to leave indents. 

 

Matthew cleared his throat and opened his mouth. “It’s just…if I speak up I sound like Alfred.”

“I don’t give a shit,” James hissed. “I don’t even know who that is.” 

 

“America.” Matthew responded.

 

“I made a simple request.” 

 

“... Okay .” and for the first time in god only knows how long, Matthew raised his voice above a whisper. 

 

“Better. Now, Matthew, here’s what’s going to happen.” James let his arms drop as he pointed at Matthew. “I have one of Oliver’s healing potions, out of the goodness of my heart I’ve decided I’m going to give that to you to fix…” He gestured to Matthew’s bad knee. “That. and After that you’re getting out of my house.”

“But where would I go?” Matthew asked and James shrugged. 

 

“Not my problem, kid.” James shrugged. “I just know that I don’t want to be involved in whatever shit Oliver has you wrapped up in. I don’t want to know and I don’t want to be a part of it, because Oliver is batshit crazy.” 

 

“Can’t you at least give me a pointer at where to go from here because this isn’t where I belong.”

“That’s the truth.” James grumbled and that made Matthew frown. 

 

“What do you mean by that?” 

 

“Look at me.” James demanded and Matthew would. “Compared to you? Forget it. You’re too…” His nose scrunched and he lowered his sunglasses over his eyes at that moment, despite the fact that they were indoors. “You’ll be eaten alive before you even make it out the door.”

 

“You think I’m weak?”

 

“I think you’re soft.” James corrected. “I think Oliver brought you here to taunt me, or to watch Alistair tear you apart.”

 

“Alistair—”

“ Not someone you should worry yourself with. Because you’re leaving. Understand. You’re leaving and you aren’t coming back.”

“Are you afraid of this Alistair? Because it seems like… you and him have some sort of unpleasant history?”

 

“Drop it.” James’s teeth clicked. 

 

Matthew put his hands up again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad.” 

 

“... If you were to go somewhere, I would suggest Oliver’s place in Surrey, but that’s just me. After all, he’s the reason you’re here to start with, which, why even are you here?”

 

“Beats me.” Matthew rubbed the back of his head. “I was just at Arthur’s birthday and… well, I’m not exactly eating cake, now am I?”

“Considering Today is Oliver’s birthday, I’m assuming that Arthur is your England. Batshit crazy?”

“Try emotionally constipated.” 

 

“That must be nice. Better than Batshit crazy anyways.” 

 

“I would ask: ‘How batshit are we talking?’ but considering he dragged me through a mirror, dislocated my knee, and brought me to an alternate dimension for ‘funsies’; I have a pretty good idea.”

Then James snickered. The sicker was quick, and snuffed out nearly as quick as it happened as he wiped the smile off of his face. “Yeah well, I’m glad you understand. I’ll go and get you a potion.” And James left. Matthew watched as James pitched between his eyes and tutted his tongue. Then he was gone.

“A health potion? How strange, but then again… “ He looked at his bad knee and slowly, as well as carefully, he pulled on his pant leg and saw where the tendril had grabbed it. It left black mark around his ankle, the mark that seemed to web out like some sort of fungus. “Given the fact that England did this? Maybe it’s not so strange after all.

 

Matthew leaned back and stared up at the ceiling that needed to be dusted before slowly exhaling and rubbing at his face. 

 

The click of nails on hardwood made him sit up, at first he thought it to be a dog, but no, it was a wolf. A pretty gray wolf, she stared at him with yellow eyes. “Hello there.” Matthew greeted her with a smile and the wolf sniffed the air for a moment, her nose twitching ever so slightly before she padded over to him. “Oh, you’re beautiful. I think Kuma would have liked you.” Matthew brought his hand out for the wolf to smell.

She did more than that, she licked his hand before choosing to jump on the bed. She was surprisingly careful as she avoided his bad knee. The wolf sat beside him instead and let out a deep and soulful sigh. “Rough day, huh?” He asked as he patted between her ears. “Tell me about it.” The wolf then rested her head on his chest and looked up at him. She liked him, not all that surprising as Matthew often attracted animals. Case and point: Kumajiro. Matthew rubbed his hands along her jowls and soon he was rubbing his thumbs inside of her ears in circles. Her eyes rolled back at this and that made him smile.

“Ey!” James was back and the wolf’s ears went back. “No. Off the bed, you know better, Bernadette.”

Bernadette let out a whine and gave her tail a few thumps. A plea, a plea of: “Please, please, please, let me stay.” 

 

“No.” and then she was grabbed and kicked off of the bed. “Off.” He ordered and as quickly as she arrived, she left with a bitter huff.

 

Matthew didn’t want to admit how he was the exact opposite with Kuma. If Kuma wanted on the bed, then by god, that bear was sleeping on the bed. “Aw…” Matthew said without thinking as he watched Bernadette go.

“Don’t ‘aw’ her. She needs to know that she’s not the one in charge. If she wants to stay with me, then there’s a hierarchy to follow.” James grunted as he grabbed Matthew’s hand and put a small vial in it. The vial was as tall as a coke can but as thick as a knitting needle, not thick at all. “Drink it, all of it. It’ll cure any ailments you have.” James grunted as he crossed his arms over his chest. Matthew looked at the liquid inside. It was completely clear, and looked almost like water. 

 

Matthew grabbed the cork that was shoved in the top and pulled. It was released with a ‘pop!’ that sounded through the room. Matthew went to smell it and it smelt like nothing. Then he looked at James. James kept his arms crossed and his sunglasses on so he couldn’t see his eyes. For all Matthew knew it was arsenic. Still, Matthew looked at James and had a strange feeling that this was a test of sorts. To see if Matthew was just blindly doing what he was told. 

 

So, at the risk of being stupid, Matthew stared James dead in the eyes and dumped the vial out on the floor. Then he flicked it away and it clattered. There was a silence between them. “I may be ‘soft’ as you put it. But I’m not dumb.” Matthew narrowed his eyes. 

 

James smirked. It was honestly shocking. “It was just water.” He told Matthew as he pulled the real vial out. Literally the same, except this one wasn’t clear, it was glowing, blue, other worldly almost. “Not bad, kid.” 

 

Matthew took the vial and it was warm. “It’s gonna burn, try and not let that bug you too much.” James warned him as Matthew uncorked it. He looked at James, before smelling it. “Oh!” He recoiled at the strong smell. 

 

“Oh yeah, smells like vinegar and bleach mixed together, doesn’t taste much better.”

“If you’re joking and I die, I’m going to come back pissed .” 

 

“Come back?” James’s eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

Matthew looked at him. “When we die, we come back?” He said. “Us as nations, we always have, I’ve seen Italy die…twice! Doesn’t that… happen here?”

James shook his head.  “Once a nation dies, they’re dead. At least...now. Back then, back before everything went to shit, yeah we came back, but not anymore."

“Well, let’s pray that doesn’t happen to me.” Matthew said as he tipped his head back and drank the potion like a shot. It did not go down smoothly. It burnt worse than the time Alfred dared Matthew to down pure grain alcohol. It made Matthew cough as tears welled in his eyes and snot ran out of his nose.

“Yep.” James grunted.

Matthew was then wheezing, fearing for a very real moment that he had blindly accepted poison. However, nearly as quick as it started, it stopped, and his leg felt better.

Matthew looked down at his leg and found that it wasn’t swollen any longer and not only that but there was no more pain. He wiped his face with disgust and James handed him a box of tissues. “First time Oliver gave me that damn potion I nearly vomited back up. Alistair had gotten a little too rough with me, and broke my arm in three places. Was not a fun day.” He then shook his head and made a motion for Matthew to get up. “Now, get out of my house.”

Matthew frowned as he moved and tentatively used his previously bad leg to step on the floor. His leg felt completely fine and so once he got up he started to follow James. “Well now, wait! Maybe we could come to some sort of agreement before you just throw me to the wolves?”

“Nope. Out. That was my agreement. I don’t want to be involved and this way I have deniability that I never saw you when Oliver eventually comes calling, because he will call.” 

 

“James, Please—”

“Out of my house.” James demanded yet again as he kept walking.

“...How about we spar?” Matthew was quick as a whip to ask for such a bold thing from a man who had the chance to kill him multiple times now, but it got James to stop and that’s all Matthew wanted. 

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“You think I’m not worth your time, that I’m just a liability waiting to happen, right? That’s why you don’t want to take a risk with me. You think the moment I step out that door I’m as good as dead, but what if I prove you wrong? Fight me.” 

 

“I’m not going to fight you—”

“Why?”

“Because I’d kill you.” He said it so casually. 

 

Matthew raised his chin at this. “I don’t think you would.”

And James started to gnaw on the inside of his own cheek. Then he moved his head in a quick jerk that made his sunglasses fall perfectly over his eyes. “Bring it.” He smiled. “When I win, and I will win, you get out of my house and never bug me again.” 

“I can respect that, and if I win, I want you to help me.”

James opened his arms and bowed his head. “Sounds fair to me. Rules?”

“Nothing below the belt, no hair pulling, and we run by the ten second pin.” Matthew patted his pockets and found what he was looking for, a hair tie. His hair was getting just long enough for this. He put his hair in a very tiny, almost laughable, ponytail. “Punching and sweeping one’s legs is allowed, sound fair?”

“Hm, more stipulations than I’m used to. Weapons?”

“This is sparring.” 

 

James shrugged. “Worth a shot.”

“Where are we sparring?” Matthew asked as they were in the living room.

“Here.” and that was his only warning as James lunged ready to throw a punch. Matthew managed to just dodge in the nick of time as he felt the air whizz by his face. He saw James’s arm and brought his dominant arm on top of James’s and twisted it. Matthew twisted his own arm under James’s so his hand was under James’s arm pit and James’s arm was twisted up at an awkward angle  in such a way that it forced James to his knees with a gasp. 

 

James kicked Matthew’s leg out from under him and Matthew went down just as quickly, once down James wrigged his arm free from Matthew’s grip. Both men got up, with James quickly standing and Matthew rolling so he was on his back and able to do a kip-up, springing backwards and hopping to his feet with grace. “Whoa.”James whispered once Matthew was back on his feet.

Matthew charged, feinted right, causing James to move in that direction to block him, and Matthew threw him off by bringing his leg up to kick James in the chest and cause James to fall back against the couch with such force that James somersaulted over the back of the couch with a crash.

James grunted and Matthew saw him pop up for a moment before falling back on the ground. “Did you try to do a kip-up?” Matthew asked as he walked over to James’s fallen form. James was on his back, and panting. 

 

“You…you make that move look easy.” James admitted as he rolled onto his side and got back to his feet. “But we’re not don—” And Matthew cocked his arm back while James was talking and got him in the cheek. James went down. 

 

“You’re underestimating me greatly. I know you can do better than that.” 

 

“God, you sound like Oliver.” James grumbled as he rubbed his cheek. “You’re way more trained than I thought, that’s for sure.” 

 

“I’m a nation . More importantly I'm a nation with a reputation of being forgotten, invisible, and underestimated as a result. Do you know how many nations I’ve come to blows with, nations that mistake me for America? A lot. I had to learn how to defend myself from such attacks. Not only that but I taught myself how to fight when my own brother kept trying to kidnap me.”

“America tried to kidnap you?”

“On more than one occasion—” Matthew was quick when he saw James swig, he brought his arm up, blocking the blow. James’s attack was strong, strong enough to nearly knock Matthew down as he was crouching. Matthew saw that James wasn’t quite on his feet. He was half up and half squatting during that swing and with Matthew in his own weird half-n-half position between half on the ground and half squatting, he lunged. He wrapped his arms around James’s middle and tackled him with all of his might.

The two of them were like kids at that moment, rolling along the ground, trying to pin the other, trying to get that victory.  Only they weren’t kids, they were both six foot men and not exactly light as a feather. Their thudding caused the walls to shake and the floors to quake as they slammed the other into the floor. 

 

Though, Matthew had one thing to his advantage against James. Matthew was slimmer than James, having a lighter build than the other. So, when James thought he had him at one point. James above him, pinning him by the shoulders, grinning like the cat that got the canary. Matthew planted both of his feet against James’s stomach with relative ease as he didn’t put in consideration the gap between the duo. James’s eyes widened and he could do nothing as Matthew flipped him over when he pushed up with his legs and James flew above him, his body slamming into the floor once again. Matthew then twisted and slammed his entire weight into James’s back, pinning him face down against the floor.

“God damn it!” James yelled as he tried his hardest to push, but Matthew grabbed his arms and forced James’s arms off of the ground so he couldn’t push.

Matthew was counting.

James was kicking. Kicking awkwardly and Matthew put an end to that when he slammed his knees into the back of James’s knees forcing him still.

There was a silence as James let out a shaky exhale, realizing that there was no way out of this position.

Matthew won. When the ten seconds were over, he let go and James fell lip against the ground for a moment. Matthew was on his feet in a second and he dusted himself off. “You can…”

“Fight?” Matthew finished for James. “You seem surprised. My brother is America.”

“You learned all of that because he tried to kidnap him?” James twisted to look at Matthew. 

 

“No. I learned how to hold my own against him, but I couldn’t beat him. I didn’t learn how to do things like a kip-up or how to feint until he taught me how to do those things. He’s taught me a lot of techniques over the years. Your…Alistair hasn’t done that?” 

 

“No. He just kicks my ass and laughs about it.” James snorted and sat up now. “Your brother… Al…” James made a gesture like he was thinking.

“Alfred.”

“Alfred, he teaches you how to fight.” 

 

“Of course, not just him, but Arthur, Australia, New Zealand, and Francis as well. They’ve all taught me a thing or two about fighting and sparring… James, is that really how you spar? Just heavy hitting?”

James’s face turned scarlet.  

 

Matthew reached a hand out for James to take and James looked at him before rolling his eyes and taking it. “Well, a deal is a deal, unfortunately.” James would grumble as he rubbed at his nose. “I guess I’m stuck helping you.”

“I guess you are.”

James rubbed at his arms as goosebumps rose along his flesh. “Well, Matthew, you better sit down because there’s much to discuss.”

 

“I want to know about Alistair.” Matthew said as he sat on the couch. At the mention of that name Bernadette let out a loud whine as she got up from where she was in the house and started to move. “You have me so curious.”

James put his sunglasses back on his head and looked Matthew dead in the eyes. “Stay curious.” 

 

---

Oliver chewed on his thumb. “James should have called by now.” He hummed as he paced around his kitchen. “Did I overestimate his loyalty to me? He’s always been a weak link in my fence.” The kitchen was abuzz with inanimate objects moving about, doing the jobs Oliver enchanted them to do. “No, no, of course not.” 

 

A kettle whistled briefly before lifting itself up to pour the hot water in a waiting cup. 

 

“Still, I need to ensure that he won’t be silly about this.” Oliver grabbed his phone and started to dial. “If there’s one person I can trust to bring Matthew here…” The phone rang and while it rang the kettle returned to the stove top and a spoon rose while the lid to the sugar container opened and three spoonfuls were added to the tea.

“I’m busy!” Came Alistair’s bark and Oliver could hear it. A scuffle, no doubt from the resistance rising against him. America was so full of those wanting to rebel. If Alistair would give Oliver some more control the rebellion wouldn’t be happening right now, but alas… 

 

There was a grunt from Alistair followed by a dull thud that sounded rather… wet for lack of a better word. “Motherfucker! Ain’t so fucking tough now are you?!” Alistair taunted the sod who, by the sounds of it, met the end of his favorite louisville slugger. There was another one of those dull wet thumps before silence.

“Was that the little thorn in your side?”

“Fuck no. Just some lacky. The resistance leader is too much of a pussy to face me himself. Now what do you want, Ollie?” Alistair asked and Oliver could just see him twirling his bat as he spoke. 

 

“I need you to go and visit James. I brought over someone from the other side .” 

 

Alistair whistled low and loud. “Holy shit. I didn’t think you’d ever get to do that. Who’d you get?”

“You’ll be happy to know, Canada. Which is why I need you to go and collect him. James would have called me by now, but he hasn’t.” 

 

“I would, but I’m in Florida right now, It’d be a few days before I reach Banff—” 

Oliver rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers. Alistair let out a startled yelp before he, probably, straightened himself up. “Oh, well, I suppose this works too.” 

 

“You should be just outside of Banff. Go and talk to your brother, make sure the other Canada isn’t dripping poison in his ear. Honestly, I was in such a hurry, I should have sent him to you instead, but I wanted him alive and had to make a snap decision.”

 

“So mean, I would have left him alive.” Alistair laughed. “Maybe missing a few limbs, but alive!” 

 

“Go get him, and don’t rough him up too much, Alistair.”

“Roger.” 

 

“And Alistair, if James is protecting him, well, you know what to do.”

“That I do.” 

 

When Oliver hung up the phone he felt a little better. “Everyone else may hate you, but there’s always Alistair.” He told himself as the teacup floated into his hand. “That’s more than Arthur can ever say.” and he smiled into his tea before taking a sip. 

Notes:

:)

Also, I realized something that really wasn't intentionally. That this focusing on those considered the 'weakest', Canada, Italy, and Finland and this story is to prove why that aren't the weakest.

Chapter 7: Luciano: Part One.

 

The next morning, Arthur woke up to two things. One: A screaming headache from magic overuse. Two: Someone knocking on his door and ringing his doorbell too much for his comfort. Arthur groaned loudly and rolled half out of his bed. His upper body on the ground while his lower body was still in bed. He felt like he was a pirate again, guzzling rum like it was his bloodline during the night and waking up with a screaming hangover. “Hrmph.” He grunted against his floor and let the cool wood cradle his face.

The doorbell was still ringing. 

 

“My little two bedroom home is occupied with half the world and not one of those cunts can open my bloody door?” He growled grumpily. Arthur peeled himself off of the floor, grabbed his bathrobe, slipped into slippers, and shuffled his way out of his room. His head throbbed and his vision swam. “C’mon…” He muttered as he rubbed his sore temples. An Advil, (or twelve) was most certainly in his future.

Everyone else sleeping in the living room apparently was the same as him. Groggy, tired, and not understand who the fuck was ringing Arthur’s doorbell. Honestly, it wasn’t until he walked into the living room, and hearing groans of annoyance from all the others, did he realize something important.

It was five in the morning.

Five.

In the morning.

He knew this because One: Grandfather clock in the living room. Two: The bloody sun wasn’t even up .

Arthur slammed that door open.

“Happy Birthday~ Mon Cherie ~ It’s a little late, but I figured… Better late than never~. ” 

 

There, on his porch, at five in the morning, stood France. France wore nothing but a single rose to cover what it needed to. His body was hairy, nothing new there. Hair on his legs, chest, arms, and below. He grinned at Arthur and Arthur could smell the wine radiating off of Francis and deduced fairly quickly that Francis wasn’t just drunk. He was wasted . And, judging by the giggling coming from off in the bushes, he wasn’t alone either.

Francis was wobbly wildly showing just how drunk he was.

“Let me in, I am going to rock your world, Angleterre —” Francis tried to make his way in and
Arthur reached down, grabbed his slipper, slapped the end against the palm of his hand once, felt the force, nodded, and then proceeded to slap Francis violently every which way with the slipper. Up, down, over the head, across the face, every. Way. Until the man was on the ground and those in the bushes were howling.

“You absolute wanker !” Arthur yelled as he continued to slap the drunk sod with his slipper. “Come ringing my doorbell at fuck all in the morning, drunk , and with your stupid friends! And you try to come into my home uninvited to initiate sex !? Have you lost your bloody mind, Frog!?”

Francis let out a scared squeaks as he curled up to protect his head. “Angleterre, Please!”

“Don’t you ‘please’ me! If you were here yesterday, like you said you would be, then you’d know why doing something like this was not a good idea! You and your stupid friends! Yes, Gilbert and Antonio, I know you wankers are out there as well!” Arthur yelled to his bushes.

“No…” Ludwig groaned from inside the living room. “Not Gilbert…” He mumbled.

Yes, Gilbert, as the Albino popped up from the bushes. “ Relax! Iggy!” Gilbert thought it was a good idea to come up to Arthur, Arthur, who still had a slipper in his hands. Gilbert, by the way he stumbled, and even slid up the three steps to the porch, was also very clearly drunk. He stepped over Francis’s curled body and laughed. “Francis just wanted to loosen you up—”

Once close enough, Gilbert also got the slipper. Gilbert was like a kicked dog instantly, scrambling to get away from the irate Englishman and falling down the three stairs and on his face.

Francis got up a little unsteady and Arthur held his slipper like a sword. Daring the Frenchman to try some bullshit. He looked at Arthur, and tilted his head. “Did…something happen, you’re usually… never this violent.” Francis’s words slurred.

“Well, I’d tell you, but it’d be a waste of breath because you are piss drunk and won’t remember a damn thing. Do me a favor, Francis, if you really care about Matthew go back to your hotel or wherever you’re staying, get sober, and come back to me. Try and remember that, will you?” Arthur demanded as he poked Francis’s forehead.

“Er…Matthew… Did something happen to my little Canada?” Then Francis sniffled comically as his eyes watered with tears. “You took him from his beloved papa, you heartless fiend!” 

 

“Yeah. Something did.” Then Arthur flicked him right in the forehead. “Get sober.” Arthur then turned and shut his door right in Francis’s face. “Fucking wanker .” He whispered to himself. Everyone was up and staring at him now.

“Arthur can wield a slipper like a sword, who knew?” Andersen chuckled deeply from his spot on the floor.

“Ask Liam. He knows, don’t you chap?” Arthur asked and Liam let out an audible whine as he ducked his head down from the couch. “Liam and Alfred got real acquainted with a lot of my shoes growing up, but I am not having that conversation at five in the morning. I’m tired and my head hurts. Good. Night.” He huffed, turned his heel and walked back to his bedroom to lay back down.

---

The next time Arthur woke up it was roughly ten in the morning, and this time around he was woken up by Alfred. Marius had kept his word and brought Alfred back. Alfred had Kumajiro in his arms and was leaning down so he was nearly eye to eye with Arthur. “Ah!” Arthur yelped in alarm. “Alfred!...” Arthur grumbled as he pressed his fingers to the area between his eyes. “How many times have I told you not to just stare at me when I sleep? It’s creepy, Mate.” Arthur groaned and sat up. His headache wasn’t as bad as it was at five in the bloody morning, but it was still there in the back of his neck.

“Sorry, I just wanted to let you know that I was back, and that Francis is here with Gilbert and Antonio, for some reason.” Alfred said rather sheepishly.

Kumajiro let out a loud whine suddenly and his eyes were wet with tears. “Where’s Matthew? He was supposed to be back last night.” Kumajiro swiped at his eyes to get the tears away. 

 

“I take it this was the important thing you needed to get?” Arthur asked. 

 

“One of them, yes. We were planning on coming to my home last night, after the party? So we left Kumajiro behind.” Alfred explained as he shifted Kuma so the bear was now pressed against his chest. Kuma sniffled loudly and rested his head against Alfred. 

 

Arthur sat up and stretched his arms above his head. “Please tell me the Frog is dressed?” 

 

“Yes? Why wouldn’t he be?”

 

“Good.” Arthur stood and shooed Alfred away. “Now get, let me get dressed.” He then sniffed the air. “Is someone cooking?”

 

“Yeah, Andersen decided to make everyone breakfast. We’re all hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon and I know I’m not the only one.” 

 

“Well, that was kind of him. Now, out.” 

 

Arthur, once again, shooed Alfred out of his room and this time Alfred would leave. 

 

Arthur got dressed in a simple collar shirt and Khakis, he put on his socks and patted out of his bedroom, where the others were. 

 

Lukas and Marius were both looking at the mirror in depth with their magic. Their fingers glowed as they traced along the sides, traced the silver etching, and even traced the lion claw feet. By the spray paint circle, but not crossing it, Ludwig stood next to Gilbert. The two of them speaking quietly in German, no doubt Ludwig updating Gilbert about the situation because Gilbert was quiet., for once.

 

Lovino and Antonio were not speaking quietly as Lovino was actively striking the Spaniard and yelling at him in Italian. “Lovi, Please!”

“It was five in the morning! Five in the morning!” Lovino yelled.  

 

“I know, I was very drunk, in my defense.” 

 

“I could tell!” 

 

The smell of bacon was strong as Andersen sang some Danish folk song in the kitchen. 

 

Liam was talking to Berwald quietly in the back of the living room. Berwald’s face was typical, in that it was unreadable, yet, Berwald had a hand on Sven’s shoulder, holding his son close. Sven looked rather crestfallen as he stared ahead at a wall. 

 

“ Angleterre ,” Francis stepped up cautiously to him. He made sure to keep his distance, even though Arthur didn’t have any footwear on him. “Alfred caught me up to speed. Is Matthew really missing?” 

 

“Yes.” Arthur said rather bluntly. “It happened yesterday, we’re doing everything we can to not just get him back but to get the others back as well. Tino, Feliciano, and Peter.” 

 

Francis let out a soft breath. “What do you need me to do?”

 

“Not show up at my door at five in the morning naked.” 

 

“I was drunk and it was your birthday!”

 

“Not an excuse.” Arthur stared at Francis. 

 

“Fair enough. I’ll do anything to help in all serious. So, please, put what happened this morning aside—” 

 

“—A little hard not to.”

 

“—And let me help.” 

 

Arthur looked at Francis for a second or two before tapping him on the shoulder. “I’ll put you on standby should plan A not work out.” 

 

“And what exactly is plan A?” 

 

And with that question, everyone stilled and looked to Arthur. All of their eyes on him. “Alfred.” Arthur called for Alfred and the boy immediately stood at attention. “Do you still have Matthew’s glasses?” He asked and Alfred nodded and took a glasses case out of his shirt pocket. Arthur nodded. “Excellent. We’re going to use objects that they use everyday. Hopefully, these objects will be enough for the mirror to think they’re near it. If it doesn’t work then we move to plan B. Blood.”

“Okay, so we have Mattie’s glasses, Ludwig, do you have anything from Feliciano? Or even you, Lovino?” Alfred asked as he handed the glasses to Arthur. There was a moment of silence from the duo as they thought about it.

“...Clothes!” Ludwig snapped his fingers suddenly. “I have a spare change of Italy’s clothes in the car! I’ll be right back.” And he quickly hurried off.

“Why does he have a spare change of Feliciano’s clothes?” Alfred asked Lovino.

Lovino shrugged. “The fuck if I know.”

Ludwig would return with a shirt in his hands. It was a black shirt made of silk. “Will this work? He wears it quite often.” He handed it to Arthur.

“Yes, this should do. Why do you have this?”

“Feliciano always likes a spare change of clothes. He never knows if something is going to happen that requires him to change.” Ludwig explained and Arthur nodded.

“Well, I’m glad this helped. Now, Tino and Peter. I may have a toy Peter left behind before he left but…it might not be enough. It needs to be something they have with them a lot…Berwald, do you have anything of Tino’s on you? Or Sealand?”

Berwald thought about it for a moment and then after a second or two he took his wallet out, opened it, and handed Arthur a picture. “Picture.” He said gruffly.

“That’s all, huh?” Arthur asked as he looked at the picture.

It was a picture of Tino and Peter. Tino was dressed as Santa and Peter was sitting on his lap. Peter had the biggest smile on his face and Tino’s eyes were sparkling as he looked at Peter. 

“This could work…but we’ll need something more practical… something more personal…” Arthur tapped the photo against his palm a few times in thought.

“Like…shoes?” Liam asked as he brought two pairs of shoes in front of Arthur and Liam was grinning. One pair of sneakers meant for children by Kharu, and the other: a pair of JM Finnish leather dress shoes.

“Shoes could work!” Arthur couldn’t hide his excitement. That just made this a whole lot easier. “Grab Matthew’s and Feliciano’s as well, just to be safe.”

“Which ones are Mattie’s?” Liam asked from the door where there was just a mountain of shoes from everyone. Everyone knew, if you enter Arthur’s home, the shoes come off .

“The New Balance!” Alfred called.

“Right, I forgot he has the taste of a fifty year old man.” Liam grumbled as he grabbed those shoes in question. “Ludwig—”

“ Gordon Rush! ” Both Ludwig and Lovino yelled.

“Right, I forgot, he also likes to dress like a seventy year old man.” Liam teased as he grabbed the shoes.

“Gordon Rush is very stylish and comfortable, you bastard !” Lovino puffed his chest and out.

“Yeah. If you’re back in the forties. These are penny loafers!” Liam teased as he handed both sets off to Arthur. Arthur walked over to the circle and placed all the objects down neatly. The shoes are side by side in a neat line. Matthew’s glasses and Feliciano’s shirt are in front of the shoes.

Arthur made sure the mirror was then pointed downward so the reflection of said items were there and in full view.

“I made breakfast!” Andersen announced suddenly as he poked his head out of the kitchen.

“Later!” Everyone called to him and he blinked before walking in the living room. “We’re getting ready to try and see if we can open the mirror up.” Lukas informed him as he grabbed his cloak hanging off of the back of the couch. “Marius!” He called and handed Marius his cloak. “Arthur.” He did the same to Arthur. Both men took their cloaks in question and ‘suited up’ so to say.

Once they were in their cloaks they surrounded the circle and got down. “We know the plan?” Arthur asked.

“Yep.” Lukas nodded.

“Seems simple.” They all touched the spray paint circle with their hands and held it there.

There was a silence between all as everyone was surrounding them, watching, waiting with baited breath. Arthur started to whisper ancient words long since forgotten, Lukas and Marius were quick to join in and whisper the same words. There was a flicker of light as their chanting became louder, heavier even. They were repeating the same line over and over again. Their voices drowned out the others as light finally began to flicker and the runes along the floor began to glow different colors.

Magic was in the air, it made everyone’s hair stand up, made their throats run dry, and their skin to prickle. Once the last rune lit, Marius, Arthur, and Lukas chanted louder now to increase their magic flow as the objects in the circle started to levitate on their own. The magic was multicolored, green, red, and blue. The multicolored magic began to swirl around the objects, running through the fabric, paper, glass, and leather with ease as it read the objects.

“Something is happening!” Alfred yelled in excitement and it made Arthur and the others look up as they continued to chant.

Yes, the mirror was rippling like the surface of water. It was happening! So, they couldn’t stop now. If anything this spurred the three of them on. Their chanting became more soulful, filled with more vigor and excitement.

With the rippling of the mirror they began to see it. A silhouette. This silhouette walked up to the mirror and tilted their head to the side.

“Yes! C’mon! You’re safe!” Alfred yelled in excitement. Everyone joined in. Shouts from the others to urge the other through the mirror.

“It’s us!” Liam yelled. “Hurry!”

“C’mon!” Ludwig urged.

The figure got closer. “Hurry!” It was curious of excited yells from everyone as voices overlapped.

Well, in this clear fervor excitement, everyone seemed to miss one big detail about this person. They were too tall to be Tino, too broad to be Matthew, and they most certainly weren’t Peter or Feliciano. Then, to everyone’s surprise and equal parts disappointment: Russia poked his head through the mirror. “Hello!” He smiled. “Whoa!” and then he tumbled through the mirror, doing a somersault and landing on his butt with a “Oh!” He was now fully in Arthur’s home and with that the magic died, the items fell, the mirror closed, and the runes flickered out.

Silence. 

 

But not for long. “You!” Alfred was then on Russia, literally, trying to strangle the man. “What the fuck did you do!?”

“Nothing! I was just at home when my mirror started to move on its own. Then everyone was cheering me on to come through, so I did!” Ivan wasn’t phased by Alfred at all as he continued to smile, all while being strangled. He didn’t even gurgle. He did, however, put a hand on Alfred’s head and with one powerful strike, as it wasn’t a shove, he slammed his palm into Alfred’s face, sending the blond flying back.

Alfred landed on his thigh with a gasp. He then looked at Ivan with a snarl. “Okay, Motherfucker—” Liam and Ludwig were quick to intercept Alfred before he could attack Ivan out of rage. Liam grabbed Alfred from behind, while Ludwig physically put himself between the two, arms out.

“No, no fighting.” Arthur sighed and shook his hands. His hands trembled lightly. He swiped those on his cloak to try and calm himself. “Ivan, I am terribly sorry, that portal wasn’t meant for you. Here, I’ll send you home.”

“ Nyatt .” Ivan dusted himself off. “Not until you explain what’s happening? Maybe I would like to be involved?”

“Dad, don’t…” Alfred groaned. “Just send him home, he doesn’t need to be involved.”

“You don’t know that.” Ivan told Alfred rather matter of factly. “I could be a great help for all you know.”

Arthur looked at Lukas and Marius and both looked just as torn as he felt. Still, Ivan was a powerful ally to have. That being said, Arthur didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Oh ho.” 

 

The room became colder as Oliver’s voice flooded around them. Everyone turned towards the mirror. Oliver was grinning that devilish grin as he was staring at them. “That was impressive, and oh so heartwarming; hearing you lot cheer him through the mirror, thinking it was one of your own. C’mon, Artie! I have every block you can think of. You won’t get them back.” 

 

“I will!” Arthur yelled as he threw his cloak down and stomped up to the mirror. He tilted it back and glared at Oliver. “I don’t care how long it takes, how many errors I make, I will get my friends and family back from you!”

Oliver chuckled at this. “Is that what you think?”

“I know so, and you know what? You better pray I don’t find a way through that mirror. Because when, not if, when , I do, I’m going to make you regret ever touching any of them!”

“Temper, temper, I see where Alfred gets it from. Well, Artie, you better hurry up then, Love.” Oliver chuckled softly. “Because Luciano should be reaching Feliciano soon. I’m telling you this. Luciano? He’s got more than one screw loose. Not only that but I went and sent Alistair to collect Matthew. My Allie, he’s been dying to meet your Canada for sometime now.”

Arthur snarled greatly at the threat, his face feeling hot, and his fists clenching at their sides, then Arthur was all but shoved by Alfred. “Let me make one thing clear: If any harm comes to Mattie, I’m coming for you .” Alfred threatened.

“I second that!” Francis came into the view and for the first time: Oliver’s giant smile faulted upon seeing Francis before it completely vanished. Oliver stared at Francis and then snorted.

“You can’t touch me. None of you can.” 

 

“We will.” Liam stepped up this time. “You can’t hide behind the mirror forever. When it opens, we will all come after you if any harm comes to our friends and loved ones. Tell me something: Do you think you can take all of us?” At that everyone in that room stepped a little closer to the mirror.

Oliver’s smile returned. Only it was somehow more deranged. “You’re all free to try.” and with that he faded.

Ivan’s eyes narrowed and his aura darkened immensely. “I see…” He growled as those near him either backed away or just walked away until they were far enough to be deemed safe. “I think I'm going to stay and help.” Ivan hissed.

“Honestly?” Arthur stepped up to him. “Welcome aboard, lad. I have a feeling we’re going to need your help.”

Alfred snorted, but didn’t say much outside of that.

Lukas came up to Arthur and the same with Marius. They all looked at the objects. “Well, that didn’t work.” Lukas observed.

“No, it didn’t.” Arthur sighed. 

“...Plan B?” Marius asked.

Then Arthur nodded. “Yep.”

---

“Why are you fucking calling me?” Luciano demanded as he put his phone to his ear. “You know I’m busy.” His voice came out in a hiss as he turned to look at the man he had tied to a chair in a shady warehouse off the docks. He could hear the faint cries of the seagulls outside right before Kuro spoke. 

 

“Oliver is doing some weird shit again.” Kuro sighed.

“Okay, and?” Luciano pointed his knife at the man, warning him to stay quiet as the guy let out a scared whimper. 

 

“There’s another you , whining and bawling in your bedroom right now. He looks like you, but he doesn’t act like you.” Kuro told him and Luciano could just see him looking at nails in disinterest. “He kept calling me ‘Kiku’ like he knew me personally. I have him tied up, but I figured you should know.”

“Hm..” Luciano’s knife was the type with a hole at the end so he could twirl it on his finger. His amber eyes narrowed as he sighed deeply. “So it’s happening…” He whispered. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Doesn’t matter, I know what’s going on. Keep the fool tied up, I’ll wrap up here quickly, and do not let Leonard near him.” 

 

“Leon—.” Kuro went quiet for just a second before clearing his throat. “Understood.” and then he hung up. 

 

Luciano inhaled slowly and deeply as he stared up at the boarded up window. He turned the knife around his finger halfway before swinging it the other way. “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver…” He muttered bitterly. “The fact that you put him on my doorstep was no coincidence.” He mumbled and then looked over at the man tied to the chair. A man who hadn’t paid his debts and thus found himself tied to a chair in a shady warehouse. 

 

The man let out a scared breath as he looked at Luciano. 

 

Luciano only sighed and put his knife back into its holster on his hip. The man relaxed, thinking he was safe from potential torture, and in a way, he’d be right. The mere idea of seeing those closed eyes, and that stupid smile, and listening to that grating, irritating high pitched voice that that other him had made Luciano blind. Blind with rage. It was like a swarm of hornets were buzzing throughout his body as he could feel it’s buzzing, the rage making his teeth grind and click together as his vision whited out for a brief moment—

—The man was dead, Luciaino holding the gun as he, by the looks of it, shot the poor fool dead ten times too many. 

 

Luciano was panting, his gun, the very revolver he used to kill his president all those years ago, was out of ammo. His breath shook and he stared at the corpse in front of him. Luciano’s hand shook, he then put his gun back into his holster, ran his fingers through his hair to get the few strands out of his eyes, and then put his hat on. 

 

“Feed him to the sharks.” Luciano demanded as he stormed past his fellow Mafia members. They moved quickly and efficiently, knowing better than to deny him or his wishes. Luciano moved with a vigor and because of that anyone in his way knew to get out of his way. 

 

Oh yes, Luciano was one of the very few people knowing of the ‘other’ universe, as Oliver often put it. In fact, there were only three who really knew of this other universe. That being Luciano, Oliver, and Alistair. 

 

Luciano didn’t, and still doesn’t, understand why Oliver showed him and only him such a marvel that day back in the fifties. Maybe a part of him did understand, but it still left more questions than it did answers. 

 

“We want to show you something, Luciano. You see, you’re not like the rest of mouth-breathers out there.” Oliver grabbed Luciano and walked him through the hallway of his home. Alistair follows obediently behind them, always so obedient to Oliver. Still, Alistair wasn’t a man to be messed with and it showed as he still had his trusty bat over his shoulders. Ready to strike should he need to. 

 

Luciano didn’t understand why Alistair was this way, at least not now, they were friends! The war was over and they were all part of the UN to try and stop anymore wars from breaking out; however, Luciano still understood that while they were ‘friends’ now, Alistair had every right to be wary of him. Still, Oliver wanted this meeting, the least Luciano could do was hear him out. 

 

Oliver opened up a door in his hallway and Luciano realized it was a basement. He didn’t exactly feel enthralled about going down into a basement, but Alistair gave him a nudge against the back of his leg and Luciano was forced to go down the rickety old stairs, following behind Oliver. 

 

“Oliver, if this is about—” Luciano tried to speak to the older nation about maybe not potentially murdering him. 

 

“Shush, dear, just follow me,” Oliver turned and continued to walk down the stairs while facing Luciano, impressive really. “I’m not going to harm you, I just want to show you something interesting . Something I think you need to know. You nearly took the name ‘Feliciano’, correct?” 

 

“Oh, Si ! It’s a nice name. I feel like it suits me.” 

 

“Don’t.” 

 

“Eh?” 

 

“It doesn’t suit you, you see, I see you, dear—” Oliver offered a hand to Luciano and Luciano took it. Oliver helped him down the last step while Alistair shut the door behind himself. Luciano swallowed hard and tried to not let his nervousness show. “—and I see so much more potential! I see so much more . I see power. You like power, don’t you?” Oliver brought his other hand over to Luciano’s shoulder and pulled him. So now Oliver was holding one of Luciano’s hands and had his hand on Luciano’s shoulder. 

 

“Power?” Luciano felt a tingling under his skin as the hair on his arms rose high and he became cold. “Yeah.” He admitted against his better judgement. “I always wanted to be like Rome. His teachings were brutal, but he was so large. He had so much power .” 

 

“That’s what I thought. Luciano, we are on a path that if completed, we will go stagnant .” 

 

“Stagnant? That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” 

 

“No.—” A platter flew up to them on it’s own and Oliver grabbed a treat from the platter. “—Sfogliatella?” Oliver asked. 

 

“Uh, sure?” Luciano grabbed the treat for himself and took a bite. Mainly because it helped calm his growing nerves. Oliver grinned a big happy grin as he watched Luciano eat. 

 

“So—” Luciano swallowed down his last bite and wiped his mouth free of any crumbs, sugar, or cream that may have stuck to his mouth. “Why is stagnant bad? If we’re stagnant that means we’re not at war anymore? Right?”

Alistair put his bat down next to him as he leaned against the wall and he grabbed his sunglasses, pushing them down so he’d watch Luciano for a moment before pushing them back up over his nose. 

 

“Well, I guess it’s how you see it. Me? I don’t like it. That’s why, I’m going to show you this.” And Oliver put Luciano in front of a mirror. It was honestly a gorgeous mirror with a silver body and lion claw feet.

Luciano stared at his own reflection for a few seconds, his head tilting to the side as he looked at himself. He was dressed in a baggy blazer and tight pants that stopped at his ankles and of course his penny loafers with no socks. His eyes were open as he stared at himself.  Then, his reflection started to change. The reflection rippling before he was looking at himself but different. 

 

This version of him had looked nearly identical to him in nearly every way, minus his clothes being different, and his eyes. His eyes were closed, but he still seemed to be able to see just fine. This version of himself didn’t seem to see Luciano. 

 

“That is Feliciano.” Oliver whispered, but didn’t get close to Luciano. “That is you from another universe. The universe where they’re stagnant. Their bosses all got together, created the UN and more.”

 

“More?” Luciano asked. 

 

“Much more. They want to avoid war.” 

 

“That’s good.” 

 

“In theory. But if it goes through, if we stop war, this is what happens to you. In a stagnant world.” 

 

At first, Luciano didn’t understand the big issue as he turned to look at this other version of himself. He seemed carefree. Maybe a little too carefree. They watched him through various mirrors, through windows and reflective surfaces as he went about his day. 

 

Feliciano’s voice was annoying. 

 

Feliciano cried. A lot. Too much. 

 

Feliciano was lazy. 

 

The list just went on. 

 

There was no fight and there was no drive . Not from anyone , not just Feliciano. Everyone seemed to be content and happy with such a boring life in this world. 

 

“Is that what you want?” Oliver finally asked when the mirror went blank. “That’s what you’ll be should you become stagnant. A whiny, lazy, nation who cried because he tripped and fell. Is that what you want? I’m hoping you see our dilemma here; why we’re asking you to maybe help us out?”

 

“I don’t know?” Luciano asked as he looked over at Oliver. “I mean, he’s annoying, but… Stagnant is still better than war.” Oliver who had moved away from the mirror and was now standing next to Alistair. 

 

“I was afraid of that.” and Oliver, while still grinning, snapped his fingers and a chair materialized behind Luciano, sat him down forcefully. At this, Luciano screamed in alarm as the chair literally strapped itself to him, forcing him still. 

 

“What are you doing, Cagna! ” Luciano hissed as he looked back at Oliver, but his neck was suddenly forced forward by the chair as it made new straps along his neck. He was forced to stare at the mirror. 

 

“You’re going to watch Feliciano’s every waking moment, until you realize that being stagnant isn’t what you really want. I know it’s not, because I know you.” Oliver told Luciano matter of factly as he touched the back of the chair. 

 

“You can’t do this! I have a job!” 

 

“Nobody will miss you. Trust me, I did my research on this.” 

 

“Oliver!” Luciano yelled, kicked, and screamed, but there was nothing he could do as Oliver and Alistair made their way back up the stairs. 

 

“I’ll be back in an hour to check on you!” Oliver giggled. 

 

“How long do you plan on leaving me down here!?”

 

“However long it takes.” And the door shut, the lock clicking loudly like a bullet dropping in a chamber and Feliciano popped back up in the mirror. 

 

Three months. 

 

Luciano was stuck down in that basement for three months. He watched Feliciano every moment for three months and grew to hate this other him with a passion. He hated the way Feliciano spoke, the way he breathed , he hated everything about him. 

 

He remembered the first time Ludwig showed up. Ludwig was Leonard, but not. Ludwig was stern, didn’t take slackers, and didn’t drink beer like it was his bloodline. He was also fit and exercised regularly. It made Luciano wonder why Ludwig put up with Feliciano. They were a couple and… Luciano hated that most of all. There was something about seeing those two together that made him want to tear his own hair out of his head. 

 

Maybe it was because Ludwig was Leonard. Leonard, despite his obvious flaws, was still Luciano’s friend. His friend and Luciano didn’t share well. It also wouldn’t help when Oliver would come down to personally hand feed Luciano food, often baked goods, that made Luciano physically sick to stomach because it was all sweet. So sweet. Overly sweet. Oliver would physically feed Luciano and while feeding him these intensely sweet treats he would whisper to Luciano. “You know, if Leon and Feliciano ever met, I’d think they’d be great friends, maybe even more . They’re like soul mates .” and that might have done something. Those little whispers in his ears like poison. “After all, Feliciano is oh so nice, and you? Not so much.”

 

Or maybe it was because Luciano was forced to watch this whiny idiot prance around twenty-four-seven! Either way, by the very end of the three months, he finally understood what Oliver was trying to say, because it wasn’t just Feliciano. It was all of them. They all grew stagnant. Hell, Alistair’s other, was a fat ass that just shoved food into his mouth like his life depended on it. Luciano understood everything. In the other universe they all grew comfortable, happy, and they all became friends. Friends! And he was foolish enough to think that was a good thing? He hated Oliver, and he hated Alistair most of all. 

 

It’s why, the day he was finally freed, Luciano grabbed the nearest object, a blade that just happened to be there. A blade that, looking back on it, was meant to be there,  off of Oliver’s table and ran for Oliver. This, of course, got Alistair involved and the two of them fought. 

 

They fought and it felt good . Even when Alistair slammed him into the wall, bashing his head open. Luciano was smiling, his body thrumming with rage, blood dripping down his forehead from his newly opened wound.  That’s when the feeling hit him. The feeling of hornets humming and buzzing along his skull and…well…

Next thing he knew he had killed his boss and was sitting in his chair smoking one of his boss’s cigar’s, legs crossed on the desk and leaning back, dressed in those same stale, and musty clothes he wore for the last three months.  “I could get used to this.” He grinned, that cigar hanging out of his mouth. No more bosses, no more rulers, just him and his land how he saw fit. It’s what Rome would have wanted.  

 

At least, that’s how Luciano saw it.

Now, he was here. That stupid Feliciano on his turf, and what’s worse? No doubt already crying and whining to Leonard… 

 

Luciano sat in the driver seat of his car, shut the door,  and—

“AHHHHHH!” It was a primal and enraged scream that left his throat, that tore through his vocal cords and made his throat hurt. “ Three months wasn’t enough, Oliver!? You had to bring the fucker to me!?” He slammed his hands against his steering wheel in a fury that overtook his entire body. The hornets were back in full swing as they buzzed under his skin and made his finger nails dig into his hair as he curled down. Drool left his mouth as his teeth gnashed together. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of his skull as he glared at his own reflection in the rearview mirror. Only, he didn’t see his face, he saw Feliciano’s, He sucked in several deep breaths and— “AHHHHHHH!” He screamed again.

Chapter 8: Luciano: Part Two.

Luciano sucked in a slow breath as he walked up to his house. The gravel from his driveway crunching under his boots as he approached the front door. His hands felt clammy and his stomach churned. Luciano stopped at his own front door and just stared at it. He shut his eyes and exhaled slowly before he opened the door. 

 

He could hear the sound of his TV droning on in the living room and knew that Leonard would be sitting there, beer in his hand, eyes glazed over. Still, Luciano had a nagging feeling as he turned towards the living room. He put his car keys in the bowl by the door on instinct; His shoes clicked on the tiled floors as he walked towards the living room. He just had a feeling to check on Leonard. 

 

Well, Leonard was there, but his eyes weren’t glazed over and the beer wasn’t in his hand. No, he had his arms on his knees, looking down at the tiles under his feet. Luciano swallowed hard when he realized that Leonard was thinking . Not only was he thinking, but he wasn’t drinking, and what’s more than that? He hadn’t noticed Luciano . 

 

Luciano cleared his throat softly to get Leonard’s attention. It didn’t work. Leonard was too lost in thought . Luciano stared at Leonard. Under normal circumstances, Luciano would yell, throw something, call Leonard a damn moron for daring to ignore him, but he didn’t. Luciano just felt his skin rise with goosebumps the longer he stared at Leonard. “L—” His voice faltered. “Leonard.” His voice was small, unusually so. 

 

Leonard gasped a little and turned to look at Luciano in surprise. “Luciano, you’re back.” Leonard’s own voice was quiet, thoughtful, wrong . 

 

“You’ve met him, haven’t you?” Luciano asked as his hands clenched by his side into tight fists. 

 

“He’s…” Leonard swallowed hard and he licked his lips before he looked away from Luciano. “He’s told me a couple of things that’s been sitting with me. Have you heard of the G8?”

 

Luciano rose his nose at the mention of the dreaded G8, the G8 that nearly happened. “Lies.” He told Leonard in a hissing tone. “Whatever he’s told you is all lies!” The buzzing returned under his skin, but he did everything he could to keep his anger at bay. Luciano grabbed his own wrist and felt his nails dig into his own skin. “Oliver sent him here to mess with you, so don’t go talking to that Coglione ! I’ll deal with him.” Luciano told him sternly. 

 

Leonard’s eyebrows furrowed. “But—” His eyes darted down quickly and then he tensed up. “Right.” He backed down quickly. “Of course, Luciano.” 

 

Luciano nodded firmly. “Good. Good . Now, I’m going to go and talk to him. You are to stay here. You are not to go anywhere near that room or near him . Understood?” Luciano demanded. 

 

“...Yeah, of course.” Leonard whispered and he looked away from Luciano. “I just have one question?”

 

“Just one? Weird, you’re usually a ten questions or more kind of guy.” Luciano sighed and then snapped his fingers. “Fine, out with it. I’m in a hurry.” 

 

Leonard looked at him and Luciano could see the cogs in Leonard’s head twist and turn. “Can you not have your gun on you when you talk to him?”

 

Luciano stared at Leonard. Then he looked down at his gun, the gun that he had already un-holstered from his leg. Luciano snorted and twirled the gun around his finger by the trigger. “I’ll think about it.” and he walked away, feeling Leonard’s eyes on him the whole way up the steps to his room.

“Good, you’re here,” Kuro huffed as he turned to look at Luciano. “The fool stopped crying a while ago…” Kuro’s head tilted as he looked at Luciano. “What’s—” and he gestured to all of Luciano. “Wrong with you?”

 

“Nothing, let me—” and to his surprise, Kuro leaned against the door and stared at him, refusing to let him through. 

 

“You know something.” 

 

“I don’t.”

 

“Why do I find that hard to believe? Spill.” 

 

“Get the fuck out of my way.” Luciano hissed.

 

Kuro narrowed his eyes at this, then he laughed. He honest to god laughed in Luciano’s face . “I don’t believe this. You’re scared of the twit in there?” He asked and jutted his thumb at the door. “I’ve seen him, he’s a crybaby.”

 

“I’m not scared!” Luciano yelled at Kuro and then before he knew it, his knife was out and pointed at Kuro’s throat before he could think. “You are going to remember that I am your damn boss and you will talk to me with respect! Or next time: I’ll take your damn tongue.” 

 

Kuro only snorted while putting his finger on the edge of Luciano’s knife and pointed it downwards. “C’mon Luci, Spill. What’s got you so spooked? Why do I get the feeling that you know a lot more than you’re letting on?” Then Kuro grabbed Luciano’s wrist and pulled the shorter man in so they were chest to chest and the knife was no longer a threat. Kuro’s red eyes narrowed with devilish glee. “And why do I feel like a certain german is also involved, all things considered?” 

 

Luciano ticked his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he made an attempt to shoulder Kuro away from him, but it didn’t work as Kuro held his ground. “C’mon, Luci, tell your uncle Kuro what’s bugging you.” Kuro mocked in baby talk.

“Kuro—” Luciano was ready to fight even more, ready to dig his heels in and start slashing away, but then he thought about it. For just a second he thought about it. Maybe if Kuro knew about what happened all those years ago, and knew about how much Feliciano makes Luciano so aggressive , then…

 

Maybe he could stop Luciano from killing Feliciano outright. Not that Luciano didn’t want to kill Feliciano, oh no, he wanted to watch that lazy, whiny, no good Italian choke on his own blood. Luciano still had questions . Questions about the world from the other side. That being said ; Luciano wasn’t entirely sure he should tell Kuro. Kuro could see it as a weakness and use it against Luciano, no, he would use it against Luciano. 

 

Luciano tutted his tongue and slapped Kuro’s hands off of him. “—Fucking, quit it.” He demanded. He then tucked his knife away into its holster. “If you aren’t going to help then get the fuck out of my way.” He then walked up to the door and he could feel Kuro’s smile bore into the back of his skull and it made him shiver. 

 

“Very well, you’re the boss. Do you want me to stay or can I finally go and talk to Heinrich about—” Kuro was cut off when Luciano waved his hand. 

 

“Do whatever the fuck you want.” He grunted and grabbed his door handle. “Just keep Leonard out of the loop—”

“—Yes, yes, when are you going to tell him about Heinrich?”

 

“Never.” And then Luciano opened his room.

He thought he knew what to expect. Luciano expected to hear obnoxious wailing from Feliciano, begging for his life. That’s not what he got. What Luciano got was silence and an empty chair facing his door. The ropes used to tie Feliciano down limp around the empty chair. Luciano stood there, in shock. His breath shivered loudly in his ears. 

 

First, Luciano saw his balcony was open, then he saw that his sock drawer was open and clearly raided through, as well as the fact that he was missing a pair of high-top oxford boots. The type that didn’t have laces.

“Well…that’s unexpected,” Kuro leaned into the doorway. 

 

“Motherfucker!” and Luciano had turned around and was running down the steps, Kuro right behind him. “He couldn’t have gotten far! We’ll fan out! Check the wooded areas! Leonard—” Luciano got to the bottom of the stairs and ran into the living room, his boots echoing loudly on the tiles with every step. He made it to the threshold and stopped . 

 

The living room was empty . 

 

Kuro stood beside him and let out a soft exhale. “Well, things just got interesting . How you holding up there, boss?” 

 

“I will gut you!” Luciano screamed at Kuro as he ran for the front door now, the door being wide open. They got to the front yard just in time.

Just in time for Luciano to see his Alfa Romeo Spider peeling down the road at an insane speed. The top was down and there were clearly two people in it. 

 

Luciano sucked in several unsteady deep breaths as he watched the car— his car! —vanish around a corner. 

 

The hornets buzzed violently under his skin. His teeth clicked together so hard that he was afraid they were going to chip. Luciano reached both of his hands up, his fingers pulled under his eyes as he started to shake . His nails dug into the soft part under his eyes as he just stood there.

“—They’re like soulmates.” Oliver’s taunt echoed perfectly into Luciano’s ears.

Luciano let out a blood curdling scream as he felt his nails dig into his skin so hard that blood started to bead down his face.  “ I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU! THERE’S NOWHERE YOU CAN FIND ME WHERE I CAN’T GET TO YOU! THESE ARE MY LANDS! DO YOU HEAR ME!? MY LANDS!”

---

It had happened nearly instantly after Luciano had retreated upstairs. The timing couldn’t have been better. Leon had been watching Luciano leave when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see out the nearest window outside. There was a flash of auburn before it would vanish. 

 

‘Auburn… oh no .’ Yeah, Leon had been a little slow on the uptake as he tried to think just who had Auburn hair again, then it clicked and he was on his feet. Leon ran for the door. A part of himself told him to capture Feliciano, turn him into Luciano, and get praise from his best friend for such a loyal act. Yet, he didn’t do that. Despite everything Leon just couldn’t do it.

 

Leon got to the front door, and silver caught his eye. In the bowl by the door were Luciano’s car keys; doing what he does best, Leonard didn’t think. He just grabbed the keys and hurried quickly out of the front door. So quickly that he didn’t even bother shutting the door. It turned out to be a good thing because Feliciano was just standing by Luciano’s car. His back to Leon as he was pulling on the handle. Feliciano reminded Leon of a rabbit, a creature ready to take off at a moment’s notice. His form trembled ever so slightly and his energy was frantic. 

 

Leon didn’t say anything, he knew if he said something he may scare Feliciano. So instead, he jiggled the car keys. Feliciano gasped quietly as he turned to look at Leon. His eyes were shut, but he seemed to know exactly where Leon was. Feliciano had his hand up to his chest and he swallowed hard before licking his lips, his chest rose and fell frantically. 

 

“You know how to drive a stick? Because— uh— I don’t.” Leon confessed as he offered the keys to Feliciano. Feliciano looked skeptical at first. Still, he reached for the keys and gently took them off of Leon’s fingers. “In fact, I don’t even have a license.” 

 

“...” Feliciano looked at him up and down. “Why are you helping me?”

 

Leon shrugged. “Because you’re different? Because…you said that I was important where you’re from? I don’t know; but I do know that you have to get out of here.”

 

“But where would I go?” Feliciano asked as he opened his eyes. He trembled violently from his spot by the car. 

 

“I’d start with Oliver.” 

 

Feliciano’s lower lip trembled slightly as he stared at the keys in his hand. It made Leon feel bad . 

 

‘He’s never going to make it to Oliver’s.’ It was a sad and horrible thought to have, but deep down, Leon knew it was the truth. Feliciano was going to be eaten alive should he cross the border into someone else's land. 

 

Leon just didn’t have the heart to give Feliciano up to the wolves. It’s why when Feliciano looked at him, eyes wet with tears, trembling hands and shoulders, and asked: “Can you help me?” He found himself sitting in the passenger seat as Feliciano started the car and put the pedal to the metal, peeling out of the driveway and down the road at an alarming speed. 

 

‘Luciano is going to kill me.’ Leon thought a little too late as he stared at Italy passing them by. The roads are still quiet from the earlier threats of fighter jets. Feliciano didn’t let up on the gas as he drove recklessly down the road, it made Leon grateful that the streets were empty. 

 

Still, Feliciano wasn’t sniveling, wasn’t even sobbing uncontrollably. His breath would shiver every now and again, but he seemed to be keeping his emotions under control. “How’d you get out of those ropes?” Leon asked after a while. 

 

“I’ve mastered getting out of ropes a long time ago. After being kidnapped so many times, ropes become child’s play. Chains are the hardest to get out of.” Feliciano stared out the windshield and then he let out a soft chuckle. “Once, Ludwig and I— uh…” His face turned pink. “Well, let’s just say: Ludwig had me tied. He had turned his back to me for a moment and I messed with him and managed to get out of the ropes. When he turned around and saw me sitting up, crossed legged and my hands in my lap, he was rightfully confused and then bewildered, then angry.” 

 

“Angry?”

 

“Yeeeah, see, I’ve been kidnapped a lot . Every time he comes to rescue me. When he realized I knew how to escape out of ropes he wasn’t happy. It was one hell of a lecture. He berated me for forty minutes.” 

 

“Wow.” Leon blinked. “Sounds like a bit of a hardass.”

 

“Oh, he is . It’s why I love him.”

 

Leon felt himself blush at this. “Wo—wow…love?” 

 

Feliciano looked at him briefly before looking back out of the windshield. “Does your, uh—” He made a gesture.

“Luciano?” 

 

“Yes, him. Does he not love you?”

 

“Oh no—I mean yes! I mean…it’s weird.” Leon confessed and crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re best friends! Plus, I live with him, so that’s nice, he takes care of me. Make sure I’m fed. Doesn’t really rely on me for much. So, most days I often watch TV and drink. He mostly does everything, him and Kuro. Hell, I’m not even allowed to go back to my lands. He forbids it, but that’s okay! He’s a great friend, strong, and protective!”

“You sound like a pet.” 

 

Then silence.

Feliciano inhaled sharply, sucking inwards on his lips briefly before sighing loudly. “Not that I know Luciano, I mean, I barely know you. You’re…the exact opposite of Ludwig. But that being said: I know I didn’t want to meet Luciano.” 

 

“Yeah, you don’t. He’s. He’s a great friend but he has this temper .” 

 

“Yeah, I gathered that.” 

The silence hung on to them like a weighted blanket. Leon’s throat became awfully dry before too long. The engine to the car roared as Feliciano didn’t take his lead foot off of the gas. “What’s going on here? Why are these streets barren?”

 

“Fighter jets were reported. So, people are hiding.”

 

“Right, you guys are still at war.” Feliciano inhaled sharply as he looked out the windshield at the barren streets and he shook his head slowly before too long. “It’s… wrong . It’s all so wrong! My streets are bustling and teaming with life. The last time I saw the streets looking like this was in War world two… please tell me this war hasn’t gotten nuclear?”

 

“Oh no, no, no.” Leon told Feliciano, putting the other’s mind at ease. “We’re still in a cold war about that. Thankfully, Alistair seems to be at least somewhat sensible.” 

 

“...I’m sorry? You’re still in a cold war? Like Russia and America are in a geopolitical standoff? That cold war?”

 

“Russia? Igor would never .” Leon scoffed. “He’s… well…” He then shook his head. “Rather not talk about it. That man is only still standing on wit alone.”  

 

Feliciano looked at Leon out of the corner of his eye. “If not Russia then… who is your America in a cold war with?”

 

Leon actually laughed at Feliciano’s question. “Who isn’t he in a cold war with? I mean off the top of my head: Luciano, Kuro, Zao—”

 

“Okay, can you tell me countries, not names?”

“Right: Italy, Japan, China, Denmark—Uh… that’s all I can think of off the top of my head… but that’s still a lot and I’m sure there are a lot more that I just can’t think of!”

“Wait! Since when does Italy and Denmark have nuclear weapons!? ” 

 

“Since the fifties. Nearly everyone has some form of nuclear power or weapons, but none are as powerful as Alistair—”

“Countries, not names.” Feliciano repeated.

“America.”

“Of course. Why do I get the feeling I don’t want to meet Alistair?” Feliciano felt himself bristle as his skin became tight with goosebumps. “That he’s not exactly… friendly .” 

 

Leon laughed a soft laugh. “You make it sound like your America is friendly.” 

 

Feliciano’s face was drained of color as he took his eyes off the road to stare at Leon. Leon tilted his head, those eyes vacant of thought for a moment as he thought about Feliciano’s words. Then his brow furrowed. “Wait… are you… friends with your America?” 

 

“ Yeah .” Feliciano whispered. “I mean, he’s about as smart as a box of crayons, but he’s a genuinely nice guy. A nice guy with shit bosses, but who hasn’t had a shit boss? A shit boss that comes back like a cockroach…” 

 

“Well, I wouldn’t know anymore.” 

 

“And what does that mean?” Feliciano’s voice became high pitched as tears were suddenly in his eyes. 

 

“I don’t have a boss. None of us have bosses. Not since the fifties.” 

 

Feliciano stared at Leon with wide and wet eyes, mouth dropped in horror as he just couldn’t form a single sentence. He didn’t breathe for several tight and soul crushing seconds. Then, when he inhaled, he focused back on the road before he swerved into the sidewalk. “ Okay.” He whispered. 

 

“...What’s…” Leon started to speak but cut himself off. Feliciano looked at him briefly before focusing back on the road. 

 

“What? Ask. I’ll answer…” Feliciano whispered. 

 

“What’s it like? Having a boss, I mean? It’s been so long, I can hardly remember.” 

 

“Well, before , I thought it was a drag having to listen to someone tell me what to do. Now? It’s actually not bad. It stops my land from becoming…” Feliciano gestured out the window to the lifeless Italy that seemed to spiral before them. “ This . How did you guys become bossless ? That’s so…unheard of!” Tears ran down Feliciano’s cheeks now, but they weren’t tears of sadness, these were tears of stress, pure and simple stress of someone nearing the breaking point but not quite there. “I mean who makes the laws!?”

 

“We do.” 

 

“Oh my god. Who owns the military!?”

 

“We do! And we tell them what to do and who to attack.”

 

“I think I’m going to vomit,” Feliciano pulled the car over, parking next to a sidewalk in a parallel park. Once parked he put both of his wrists on top of the steering wheel as he stared at the floor of the car. His stomach twisted in knots and his lips felt dry. “So, let me get this straight: You are all, every single one of you are unchecked in power, weapons, laws, and military? It’s no longer up to your boss, your people, it’s up to you ?” 

 

Leon shrugged. “I wasn’t really given a say in the matter, if I can be honest here.” He scratched his head. “In fact, I don’t get a say in my land.”

 

“Then who does, if not you?” 

 

Again, Leon shrugged. “I was just told that I’m living with Luciano, and I have, for nearly five decades now. He takes care of everything else. I’m not that smart, you see, and I can’t really be trusted with any sort of leadership.” 

 

Feliciano stared out the windshield. Then, before he could stop himself, he started to pray. Pray in fast and rapid Italian. It was a simple prayer, one of safety and protection, because by god, he was going to need it. 

 

“Are you really—”

“ Silence. ” Feliciano hissed and then continued to pray. Then, when he was done, he finished it off with a soft: “Amen.” and he grabbed the steering wheel. “Let’s go. Where’s the nearest airport?”

 

“Airport? We don’t have those anymore. Too many planes getting blown out of the sky, mistaken for fighter jets.”

 

“I’m sorry I asked.” 

 

“...Would it help if I said that trains still run?” 

 

“Trains?... that could help, but we need to get to Olivers and I know there’s no train from Italy to England.”

 

“No, there’s not…”

 

Feliciano shut his eyes briefly. “What would Ludwig do?” He thought out loud as his fingers creaked against the leather of the steering wheel. “He’s so smart, he’d already have a plan…what would you do?”

Leon gasped at that when they looked at each other. “Oh! Oh, I don’t know. I’m not smart!”

 

“C’mon! You’re smart! How would you get to England’s house?” 

 

“...” Leon stared out the windshield. The seconds ticked by. The seconds continued to tick by. Seconds become minutes. 

 

“Oh my god…” Feliciano whispered and then covered his eyes with his hand as he sighed out loudly and exasperated.  “Okay! Okay! What would Ludwig do? He would…assess the situation. The situation? I am not where I need to be. I can’t get to England, but I need to get to England and flying is a no go. Trains still run and Trains could give us some cover, but they wouldn’t be faster than driving, so I should stick to driving… but I can’t drive across the ocean! So…” Feliciano let out a groan and looked at the ceiling of the car briefly before back at the road. “So! I need a boat! I need to get to somewhere close enough to the UK to where I could maybe boat across and that would be…France? I could cross Switzerland and go to France, find a boat and make my way across the sea!” 

 

“Eh, I wouldn’t. France is… very loyal to Oliver, but not by choice if rumors are anything to go by. Regardless, he won’t let you cross the ocean, let alone steal a boat.” 

 

Feliciano let out another groan, but, his groan died in his throat. “Then… we’ll cross into the Netherlands and take a boat there! Or Belgium! Belgium might actually be closer to the UK than the Netherlands.”

“Hm, that could work, neither Belgium nor the Netherlands or particularly loyal to Luciano or Oliver, however—”

“Let me guess: Because I look like Luciano, they won’t exactly welcome me with open arms should they see me?” 

 

“Yeah, it doesn’t help that I’m with you either.” 

 

“You know, that’s not a bad idea, actually.” Feliciano spoke out loud as a thought crossed his mind. 

 

“What?” 

 

“Well, Germany is still you, we could maybe use you and your influence to persuade them! It’s perfect!”

 

Leon tilted his head. “I don’t really have… influence ? All my influence comes from Luciano.”

“Well, you’re about to have some!” Feliciano laughed, but the laugh was manic and mirthless. “Because I swear to god I’m this close to losing it!”

 

“Okay. Okay, I can…I can try. I mean, this will be the first time I’m going home in well over fifty years, so, maybe I can remember what it feels like to actually be in charge of my land.” 

 

“Right, we will pass through Germany, won’t we?” Feliciano whispered. “You seriously haven’t been there in fifty years? Who runs it if not you?”

 

And Leon only shrugged. 

 

Feliciano focused back on the road. “I have a bad feeling that we’re going to find out.” He looked around some more at the barren roads and desolate streets. “We won’t run into South Italy, will we? I don’t think I want to know Lovino’s counterpart.”

 

“Flavio? Probably not as far as I’m aware. Last I heard he was in Naples shooting a movie.” 

 

Feliciano turned his head quickly. “He makes movies?! That’s weird…I didn’t even think entertainment was allowed.” 

 

“Well…not the type of movie you’d think.”

 

“Do I want to know?”

 

“Probably not.” 

 

“Fine, whatever. I’m not going to ask. Let’s just see if we can cross the border in one piece.” 

 

The car zoomed quickly down the street of Tuscanny. “Why don’t we just take a boat from here. I see the ocean?”

 

“I am working smarter, not harder.” Feliciano told Leon rather matter of factly. “Have you ever sailed the ocean? It’s a nightmare. I’ve done it too much and would rather not try and raft my way to England by going around everyone. If we make it to the Netherlands or Belgium it’s a quick shot. Well as close as it can be. I think it’s like an all day thing depending on the boat, regardless it’s faster to do it that way than to go around .” 

 

“Oh… that’s…really smart. You’re pretty smart.” Leon complimented him and Feliciano blushed. 

 

“Well, you’d be the first to say that,” He whispered. “Regardless, we got a plan, now we execute it and pray we don’t die in the process.” 

 

Feliciano looked out of the rearview mirror where only his dust trail seemed to follow them; for now. He had a while before crossing the border into Switzerland and until then he could only pray it would stay that way.

He doubted it, but he could still pray. 

 

Notes:

Headcanon time!: Feliciano drives fast, yes, but he is not a reckless driver! He makes some of the best and fastest cars in the world, he absolutely loves speed!

Also: I had a lot of fun with Kuro in particular with this chapter. >:D he's slowly turning into my favorite. Well second favorite 2p wise.

What's fun is adding even more 2p's coming up. I have a few planned to be shown and I love building on 2p's that haven't really been fleshed out by the fandom.

Chapter 9: Mirror, Mirror on the wall

If one were to think it ended with Ivan, they were wrong. They were all wrong.

As everyone was setting up for Arthur’s next attempt to reopen the mirror, there was a knock at the door. “I swear to all that’s holy and good…” Arthur rubbed between his eyes to try and stave off the growing headache.

“I’ll answer it, Pops.” Liam offered as he gave Arthur a friendly wave. 

 

“Please do.” 

 

Arthur, who was halfway between the hallway and the living room, had went to his basement. He opened the door and trotted down the steps. There, Marius and Lukas were. The two of them reading over Arthur’s spell books; flipping through the pages quickly as they looked through spell after spell. 

 

Arthur walked up to his bookshelf. He didn’t have many books, but he had one other book, a grimoire, old, beyond old. He had to be delicate as the paper wasn’t paper at all, it was parchment. The Grimoire was only to be used as an absolute last resort as it wasn’t normal magic, it was dark magic. The type of magic that Alfred made fun of yesterday, the type that required animal sacrifice. It’s not magic Arthur ever did lightly and for obvious reasons. One wrong move and he could easily hurt, not just himself, but others. Dark Magic was only to be used if all other types of magic failed. 

 

Though… 

 

He was tempted to just peek into the grimoire, just to see what could help them during this whole frustrating ordeal. 

 

Yet, he didn’t. He just couldn’t reason bringing such a book out from its storage just yet. So, Arthur instead pulled another book off of his shelf and looked at it. He never got to open the book in his hands; however. There was a knock at the door and he turned to see who was at the top of the basement stairs. 

 

“Kiku?” Arthur asked and put the book back on the shelf. 

 

It was Kiku, and not just him either, Yao was standing behind Kiku, both men were peering down into the basement in amazement. Arthur hurried up the steps and both Kiku and Yao backed up to allow him to shut the door behind him. “What are you guys doing here?” He asked in bewilderment. 

 

Kiku and Yao both held up wrapped boxes. “For your Birthday, I know we’re late but we figured we’d let the party play out and show up later so you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.” Kiku explained. “But—uh…” He looked around. “The party is still going on?” 

 

“No—No. It should have ended last night, I should be playing DnD with Lukas and Marius right about now, but sadly things took a turn.” Arthur explained. “I assume nobody told you what’s going on, have they?”

 

“No?” Yao tilted his head and his ponytail swayed over his shoulder at this movement. “Is everything okay?” 

 

“No. It’s far from okay, actually.” Arthur rubbed his eyes and leaned against the console table in the hallway. “I’m just going to cut a long story short: Feliciano, Tino, Matthew, and Peter, all got kidnapped by another version of myself from another dimension. They are in that dimension and now we’re all trying to find a way to bring them back.”

 

“...” Both men just stared at Arthur for several seconds. “...Aiyah…” Yao finally said in shock. Then he smacked Kiku’s arm. “I told you we should have waited till next week to give him his presents.” 

 

Kiku only gave Yao a blank look and then turned back to Arthur. “Let us help you.” He offered. 

 

“Aiyah!” Yao yelled. 

 

“You don’t have to.” Arthur told Kiku softly. “I can’t even think of anything you could do.” 

 

“I’m sure I could find something. Feliciano is a dear friend of mine and I’d be a terrible friend if I just left without helping.” And then Kiku slowly turned to Yao. 

 

Yao and Kiku stared at each other for a long time. “...Aiyah…” Yao said a little more quietly this time. “He’s right. How can we help?” 

 

“Like I said, I’m sure if you can help anything right now, but if you want to hang around in case things get hairy, I’d appreciate it. 

 

“Yeah, we can do that.” Kiku said quickly. “I’ll go and talk to Alfred, maybe he can give us the long version of the story.”

 

Yao’s shoulders slumped as they started to walk towards Alfred. “ Aiyah . I don’t want to talk to the Moron!” 

 

“Be nice, Onii-San .”

 

Still, they went. None too soon either as the door to the basement opened. 

 

“Oh good, you didn’t go far.” Marius said and Arthur turned to look at him. Marius held up one of Arthur’s older books. It was already open to the page. “Now, I couldn’t find an exact spell to open a portal to their world, but I did find something that can help us in the meantime?”

 

“Oh?” Arthur asked as he read the page that Marius had opened.

“We may not get that mirror open, but what we could do in the meantime is use the blasted thing to our advantage and use it as a sort of window into the other side. What’s more, if this book is right, if we use blood, like say Lovino’s , we may be able open the window to Feliciano personally.”

 

“Think of it like face-time!” Lukas yelled from the basement. 

 

“Wasn’t funny then, still not funny!” Marius yelled back.

 

“Hm.” Arthur rubbed at his chin in thought as he read over the ritual. “It has validity. The ritual, not the joke.” He clarified as he leaned against the console table again. He re-read over the ritual. “Using the mirror could help open the window to that world just the same, but blood wouldn’t work.”

 

“You don’t think so?” Marius asked. 

 

“I know so. If we use Lovino’s blood, it’s just going to give us another Lovino. No, but…we could substitute the blood in favor of objects. Which we have plenty of from everyone.” Arthur sighed as he gnawed on his thumb for a moment. “Let’s do it.” He finally said and Marius perked. 

 

“Really?”

 

“Really. I want to make sure everyone is at least okay and see what’s happened to them. It will buy us a little more time to figure out how to set plan B into motion.” Arthur said, he then turned to the door and yelled down to Lukas. “We’re doing this for now! Get back up here!”

“Sure, go with the youngest of the group. I see how you are.” Lukas grunted. 

 

Marius only snorted. “For your information, I’m only ‘young’ in terms of government. I’ve been around longer than you, Viking.” Marius poked Lukas in the chest when he came up the steps. 

 

Lukas only snorted at this. “Would you rather I call you old?” 

 

Arthur rose his hood up over his face. “Lads. More pressing matters?” 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Marius grunted and raised his hood and Lukas followed suit. 

 

“Everyone!” Arthur called and those in the living room gave their undivided attention immediately. “There’s been a slight change in plans. While Lukas, Marius, and I are still working on how to get plan B to work, we’ve decided we’re going to see if we can, at the very least, reach the other dimension via a window and talk to one of our friends. If we can get into contact that then means the way isn’t entirely sealed.” Arthur explained. 

 

“If it doesn’t work? If the way is sealed completely, then what?” Ludwig was the first to ask, because of course he would be. 

 

“Then… We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it. I have plenty of other options to get to the other side of that mirror. If it means dipping my toes into unsavory magical practices, then so be it.” 

 

“ Unsavory ?” Francis inquired next. “How unsavory are we talking about?”

 

“We’ll cross that bridge should we need to.” Arthur repeated as he made sure his robe was nice and snug. “For now, let’s see if we can at least contact our friends. I’m going to have to ask everyone to step away from the mirror. 

 

“Do you need our blood yet?” Lovino asked from the couch. A glass of red wine in his hand—

 

“Is that my wine?” Arthur asked. 

 

“Well, if you want to get technical . This is Feliciano’s wine.” Lovino said as he took a sip. “But I did find it in your wine rack, yes.” 

 

“...Whatever.” Arthur waved him off. “Just don’t get drunk. But to answer your question, no, no blood, at least not yet. This should be a simple ritual.” 

 

“Can you handle it?” It was Alfred that spoke next and that made Arthur turn to look at him. 

 

“What?” Arthur asked with a simple blink as he lowered his hood to look at Alfred better. 

 

“Can you handle it? Artie, no disrespect, but the last ritual had you trembling. Ever since last night you’ve been looking… worn .” He said softly. 

 

“I’ll be fine.” Arthur grunted. “I may not be as young as I used to be, but as long as I’m standing I can still do magic.” 

 

Alfred gave a weak sigh at this. “Arthur—” 

 

“End of discussion, Alfred.” and Arthur flipped his hood up. 

 

“You could always take his place, if you're so concerned.” Ivan suddenly said. 

 

“Stay out of this, Commie.” Alfred turned on Ivan fast. 

 

Arthur snapped his fingers. “No fighting.” He scolded Alfred quickly and it worked as Alfred quieted down. “Besides, Ivan, if you must know, Alfred doesn’t have a magical bone in his pudgy body.”

 

Alfred pouted immediately. “Hey. It’s not pudgy, it’s…”

“Soft?” Ivan suggested.

“Squishy!” Liam joined in.

“Marshmallow-like?” Kiku added.

“Vastly out of shape?” Ludwig asked and that got Gilbert to laugh and clap his brother on the back.

 

“Good one, West!” 

 

“...You guys are all dicks, I was going to say bulky!” Alfred yelled and that made the others all laugh around him. Alfred’s face became red as he visibly pouted. “Mattie would agree with me… Regardless, I may not have a ‘magical bone in my body’ Artie, but let me drop you in the middle of the Appalachians and see which one of us comes out alive. Everyone Is brave until they hear their own voice talking back to them.” 

 

“Regardless, can we get back to this?” Arthur asked and Alfred only raised his hands up slightly, wordlessly telling Arthur to ‘go ahead.’ 

 

Arthur opened the book and read it over one final time. “We’ll start with Feliciano.” He said as he moved the mirror so it looked right at him and the others. Lukas grabbed Feliciano’s shirt and shoes that were laying off to the side. Those were placed in front of the mirror. 

 

Marius, Lukas, and Arthur all crowded around the book and spoke softly to one another in a hushed tone. 

 

“So, we should…” 

 

“I think it would be best if we…”

 

“No, no, no, not like that. That won’t work.”

 

The discussion was hushed amongst the trio before the book was promptly shut by Arthur. “Got it.” He said firmly and the others nodded. 

 

Arthur shook his hands vigorously by his sides as he stood next to Lukas and Marius. They stood side by side for a moment before Lukas and Marius moved inwards and linked hands with each other and then to Arthur. Feliciano’s shoes and shirt between the three of them as they stood in a circle. 

 

Arthur inhaled sharply, his hands slightly trembling, but not from fear, and then he exhaled. That exhale everyone felt as the room began to melt away, figuratively of course, and Arthur focused solely on Feliciano and the mirror. The magic between them began to swirl, but he was sure the others couldn’t see it as it moved between the trio. Their magic interlocking with one another. “Remember, clear mind, lads…” Arthur gave them one reminder before he let go of both of their hands. “Show us our friend!” He declared as he pointed both hands at the mirror. 

 

The combined magic flew from Arthur’s fingertips as the room came back into view for him. The rainbow of magic hit the mirror and exploded upon contact. 

 

For a moment, nothing happened, but that was only for a moment before a figure came into view. 

 

There Feliciano stood, at least they assumed. They saw the auburn hair and the iconic curl, but his face was hidden by a towel as it seemed he was washing his face? Maybe patting it dry. Regardless, he was close to the mirror, like he was leaning over a sink. Not that it mattered, the spell worked . 

 

“Feliciano!” Ludwig stood up quickly and so did Lovino. 

 

It seemed like Feliciano didn’t hear them as he continued to pat at his face, his hand came into view for a moment and…Has it always been slender?  

 

Everyone looked at each other, unsure as to what to say or do. “Oi! Asshole!” Lovino yelled louder than Ludwig and that did it as the towel was finally lowered. 

 

“Huh?” and when the towel was completely lowered…

 

They weren’t looking at Feliciano per-say. Same auburn hair, only it was long and put up in a ponytail, hence why they couldn’t see it when the towel was blocking her face. Same everything except this was clearly a woman . A woman who saw all of these men staring at her from what had to be the bathroom mirror. Her eyes opened and she let out a shriek, honestly on point for Feliciano. “Monika! There are perverts in the bathroom!” She all but screamed and rushed for the door. “Monika!—”  and at that Arthur cut the connection with a wave of his hand. 

 

Once the connection was cut, it was Francis that broke the shocked silence with a laugh. It was soft, but there. “Oh my, she most certainly was not what I was expecting.” 

 

“I say close enough.” Alfred chuckled and Arthur didn’t even think. With his magic he grabbed one of Feliciano’s shoes and struck Alfred up the head with it before bringing the shoe back to himself. “Ow!”

“Who—” Arthur lowered the shoe. “Who wasn’t thinking clearly?” He asked. 

 

There was a moment of silence between Lukas and Marius before Marius shamefully raised his hand. “Was it because it was Feliciano and you still think he’s a girl in disguise?” Arthur asked and Marius lowered his head and nodded. Arthur sighed and picked up Feliciano’s things. “Fine, Feliciano’s out for the time being, until someone can think straight. Let’s try someone else a little more straight forward.” He looked at the others and for a moment Arthur actually had to think about this choice. 

 

‘I doubt Marius knows who Matthew is. We’ll probably just wind up looking at another Alfred if that’s the case. Peter could be a good candidate, but the issue is still with Marius. While Lukas knows who Peter is, does Marius?...Okay then that leaves one final person.’ And Arthur grabbed Tino’s things. 

 

“We’ll try Tino. He’s as straight forward as they come.” Arthur dropped Tino’s things in the circle now. “We all know who he is and that he’s not a woman in disguise, right?” 

 

“Neither is Feliciano?” Ludwig asked rather indignantly on Feliciano’s behalf. 

 

“Are we sure about that, my guy? I mean that other version of him was pretty on point.” Alfred laughed and Ludwig only glared at him. 

 

“Keep it up, I’m going to hit you next.” Ludwig then threatened and Alfred only chuckled. 

 

Berwald quietly walked up just a little closer. Sven was right next to his father and they both stared at the mirror, their gazes hopeful at seeing their missing loved one. 

 

Arthur prayed to any god that this would work. He truly did as he held on to Marius and Lukas once again. “Remember, lads, keep your mind clear .”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Marius chuckled, his fangs glinting slightly in the light as he lowered his hood, Lukas right behind him. “Guess that did prove one thing. Feliciano is a guy, who knew?”

 

Arthur couldn’t help it, he chuckled. “Just focus, Marius.” He ordered and the three of them looked at the mirror. His hands were shaking a little harder now, and when Lukas looked at Arthur, he only shook his head. He couldn’t focus on his growing exhaustion. He just couldn’t. He looked at his own shaking reflection in the mirror and tried to straighten up. 

 

This time was going to work. It had to.

---

Tino was more shocked to learn that they were in Sweden more than he was at the state of the world. Don’t take this the wrong way, I already knew this place was messed up the moment I saw your house. Tino had signed to Esbjørn as they boarded a train. They were on the border between Finland and Sweden, they were going to stick to Sweden and take the train to the nearest city. Hugo was sitting obediently next to Tino on the train. Tino had fed and watered the poor thing and now Hugo was napping. 

 

That’s fair. 

 

I have questions? Namely about you and the others?

 

Ask away  

 

“I know Dainsleif is Denmark, Rekko is Finland—Me. I guess.— The others? Norway and Iceland?” 

 

Esbjørn let out a soft “Oh.” At that question and then signed. Magnus is Norway and Einar is Iceland.

 

Thank you. Now came the actual harder questions to ask. Tino shook his hands by his sides out of nervousness. He knew he must have looked thoughtful because Esbjørn’s head tilted. Your name? That doesn’t align with a typical Swedish name? 

 

I didn’t name myself. So, Magnus named me.

 

Tino swallowed hard. Mean? 

 

Esbjørn made a so-so motion with his hand. He’s nicer than Dainsleif? Nicer than Rekko? Sometimes he’ll even heal me, but I think that’s more out of pity. 

 

Wow, that bar is right there on the floor, isn’t it? This world hasn’t been kind to you, has it? 

 

Was it the deafness? Or was it the blind eye? 

 

Tino opened his arms and raised his hands up in surrender. He then exhaled slowly and leaned back into his seat. Rekko is a weird name. He signed to Esbjørn, honestly just to keep the conversation going. Esbjørn raised an eyebrow at this and just let Tino continue. I mean at least where I come from. Rekko is often a last name, not a first name. It’s not common for people to use it. I guess it is different here?

 

Oh That! No, Rekko hates his first name. 

 

Tino’s mouth was open as he gave Esbjørn a rather incredulous look. Did he not make it himself? 

 

He did. He was drunk. Gave himself the first name Kukka and the last name Rekko. He was too lazy to get it changed so he just goes by his last name instead. 

 

Tino continued to stare at Esbjørn for a few more minutes before he just chuckled. He sounds…stupid. 

 

Esbjørn’s face turned serious and he shook his head. Don’t underestimate Rekko. He may be a drunk, but he’s still deadly. I saw him put Einar in an arm lock in less than three seconds…then he broke Einar’s arm for testing his patience. I was there, he just snapped it with a quick movement. He’s strong for a tiny guy.

 

Tino looked out the train window after that. “I was afraid of that.” He spoke to himself as he looked outside. The train lightly rocked while it went down the track at leisurely pace. Tino looked at his reflection and frowned as a memory clawed it’s way up to the surface. 

 

It was 195…8? Or was 1959? It was hard to say, the days often blurred together for Tino back then. If someone were to ask Tino what started it, he couldn’t tell. It had just started. First it was one beer a night then it spiraled into something that he was finding hard to control. Nobody outside of the nordics ever saw this side of him. It was honestly a side that Tino kept under lock and key. 

 

“You’re drunk again.” Berwald had confronted Tino as Tino stumbled into the kitchen. He tossed the empty bottle in the trash and reached into the fridge for a new one.

 

“So what if I am,” Tino grunted as he popped the top off of another beer. How many beers had that been. Five? And it wasn’t even night time yet. The sun was still high in the sky and here Tino was. Still, he threw the cap in the trash and started to chug. 

 

“I think you’ve had enough.” Berwald tried to take the beer from him but Tino jerked away. 

 

“I’ll tell you when I had enough and this isn’t it!” Tino had snapped completely unprompted. “Just leave me alone!” He hissed as he tried to walk away but Berwarld grabbed him and Tino responded quickly and with anger. Before he could stop himself his fist went back and next thing Tino knew his knuckle was split and Berwald was on the floor, glasses completely broken while he held on to his broken nose. 

 

Tino’s hand shook as he let out a soft gasp. He didn’t even know what came over him in that moment as he stared at Berwald in horror at what he, Tino, had done. 

 

Tino was lucky that they didn’t have children at the time to witness it. He was also lucky in two other things. One: It was just the two of them, so nobody else saw what had happened and two: Berwald had the patience of a saint when it came to Tino. Berwarld forgave Tino, something Tino never quite felt like he deserved. Of course, Tino never put his hands on Berwald like that again, and after that night he went and got Therapy, something rather frowned upon in the fifties. 

 

Now, as Tino was here , hearing about the drunk version of himself, this Kukka Rekko, that broke Iceland’s— Einar’s.— arm for testing his patience; and that scared Tino. More than he wanted to admit.

Outside the window were the ruins of a small town, also the reason why they couldn’t take a car and had to go to the next city over. The roads were completely ruined there due to the ongoing war. The city was still smoldering and what’s worse there were tanks . At least three tanks and there were obvious soldiers as well. 

 

I thought Sweden was a neutral country? He changed the subject. Esbjørn looked out the window and then he let out a sigh. 

 

Not an option anymore. 

 

Not surprising. You did tell me that Dainsleif has nukes. What happened? Tino pointed to the town that was rapidly fading from view. 

 

Esbjørn only shook his head. Oliver. He signed. Well, maybe Alistair working on Oliver’s behalf, but regardless, it’s part of his retaliation against me for taking Nathan. 

 

Right, that’s Sealand, right? And Esbjørn nodded. What’s the story there, you never told me what happened, just that Oliver was the reason you can’t see out of your right eye?

 

Esbjørn nodded slowly. I didn’t know who the kid was, if I would have, I wouldn’t have taken him. He started. And, I can not sign this enough: I did not kidnap him. I don’t know how, but the kid literally showed up on my doorstep. I think he must have gotten into something of Oliver’s to transport him? I’m unsure. He leaned back into his seat and with his good eye he looked out at the window. Oliver has always been possessive of his ‘boys’. You know not one of his children has independence?

 

Tino choked on his own spit at that. “What?!” He gasped out loud without thinking about it. His gasp had been so loud that Hugo woke and sat up in alarm.  Tino corrected his mistake and quickly signed: What?! America has to!

 

Esbjørn only shook his head. Nej  he signed simply. Then he made a face like he was thinking. He tried? Eons ago. That’s when he changed? It’s hard to explain. Esbjørn started to look over his shoulder as if he was afraid someone would show up. 

 

Tino just couldn’t fathom a world where America didn’t have independence from England. The cogs in his head started to turn and Tino brought his index finger up to his mouth where he gnawed on his knuckle. ‘He doesn’t have independence, he’s basically a lap dog to Oliver, and what’s more Esbjørn said he ‘changed’. Could that mean that this America is being controlled or manipulated in some way or another? If so, how?’ Tino didn’t know and he had a feeling that Esbjørn probably didn’t know either. Still Esbjørn did know something, he had faced Oliver and lost his eye for it. His eye that was covered in scars. 

Esbjørn was looking out of the window, so Tino had to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention. What happened between you and Oliver? 

 

Esbjørn sighed again. Well, as I stated, the kid just showed up. I didn’t know who he was. I wasn’t aware Micronations still existed, I think he’s the only one left. He fibbed, told me that he was my micronation. Silly me actually believed him. Funny enough? I was going to hide him away probably the same way Oliver does.

 

Why aren’t there micronations? 

 

They’re seen as a burden. Weakness, something we can’t have. Most are killed immediately. That type of freedom just can’t be had—

 

Tino couldn’t stop himself, even though Esbjørn was looking right at him, Tino patted him quickly and urgently. Esbjørn flinched at this, but it wasn’t because Tino was hurting him. Ladonia!? What about Ladonia!?

 

Esbjørn frowned at this and he only shook his head. Dainsleif was all he had to sign and Tino put a hand over his mouth in shock. He swallowed hard, a painful lump forming at the base of his throat as he stared at his shoes for a moment. 

 

‘Focus.’ He swallowed hard again and then looked at Esbjørn.

 

Oliver. What happened between you and him?

 

Right. Well, I brought Nathan in and sat him down. I know it’s foolish now to think he was ever mine, he looks almost identical to Oliver, but I’m not the brightest. Esbjørn scratched at his face. Regardless, the simple answer? Oliver caught up to Nathan and it was just Oliver, no Alistair in sight. He knocked, I went to answer, I didn’t even get the door open all the way before he attacked. He had a kitchen knife and just started to stab me. 

 

Nobody helped you? 

 

Nobody was home, not only that but if they were home? No. Nobody would have helped me. If anything they would have killed Nathan and then put the blame on me. 

 

Tino could only nod. ‘Sounds about right to be honest.’ He thought. So, Oliver started stabbing you.

 

I fought him, He got a good hit in on my chest and I punched him and nearly sent him flying. He’s good, magically, but actual fighting? It’s like punching an apple? He’s light and small. He went through a wall. Well, that royally pissed him off, next thing I know these black things are pinning me to the ground and he… Esbjørn exhaled slowly at the memory. Off topic, but you know we die once now, right? 

 

I’m sorry?

 

Yeah, The leading Theory being that without proper bosses there’s nothing keeping us immortal. We are the last defense. When we die in battle…that’s it. We’re gone and our land is up for grabs.

 

You’re almost mortal. 

 

Yeah. That being said that day? I died, I died many times. Oliver kept bringing me back .

 

Tino stared ahead at this, mouth dropped open as he just couldn’t find the right words. I see . He finally managed to sign. That is horrifying. 

 

Esbjørn only nodded. Wasn’t fun. He signed. 

 

But your eye? Shouldn’t it have healed? I understand no longer being immortal, but you should still heal.

 

Esbjørn’s mouth turned down into a frown as he lowered his hands into his lap. He then looked away from Tino. Esbjørn stared out the window of the train and there was the clicking of the wheels against the track as the train gently moved.. Finally, he would look back at Tino and resume signing. I can’t prove it, but I think Oliver may have took my healing away that day. Esbjørn would finally confess. 

 

He has that ability? 

 

I don’t know . I just know that ever since that day I haven’t been able to heal as quickly as I once did. Maybe I’m just getting weaker or Maybe I’m right and Oliver took my healing. I don’t know either way.

 

That’s… Tino lowered his hands. ‘If this is true.’ He thought. ‘Then that could mean that Oliver heals incredibly fast. But, it’s like Esbjørn said: It could be that he’s growing weaker as a nation. Now, I’ve only been here for—’ Tino paused to look at the time on his watch. ‘—I don’t even know if I’m being honest. This thing is set for time in my world and Finnish time at that, not even UK time. If I had to guess? Four hours? Maybe a little more. Regardless, I’ve been here long enough to know that Esbjørn is allowing himself to be bulldozed by the other nordics. He could easily be weakening from that alone. After all, his ears never healed after what Dainsleif did to him.’ Tino rubbed at his face vigorously and then shook his head. 

 

Esbjørn gently tapped Tino’s shoulder and Tino looked at him. I think our stop is coming up soon. We should prepare to disembark. We still need to get a car, not only that but we should start being wary. I don’t doubt that Dainsleif hadn’t woken up by now. I may want to help you, but I’d rather avoid confrontation.

 

Fair. Tino signed back and then stood. This got Hugo to stand as well. Let me go to the restroom. Watch Hugo? He offered the leash to Esbjørn and the man did hesitate for a moment but in the end took the leash. I’ll be back . 

 

And he was off. Thankfully, the nearest restroom wasn’t far. It was a private restroom, so Tino simply locked the door and did what he needed to. When finished he got to the tiny sink to wash his hands. The water was cold against his skin and made goosebumps rise along his flesh. 

 

“Tino? Tino!” 

 

Tino gasped as his head jerked up at the sound of someone calling his name. He didn’t have to look around to see the source as he was standing in front of a mirror. There, staring back at him wasn’t his own reflection, but rather…Everyone. He was staring at everyone in Arthur’s living room and this included new faces added to the group. This included Berwald and Sven standing in the back. Also included three people standing in the front with robes. Ceremonial robes and hoods up to obscure their faces. 

 

Tino blinked owlishly before he rubbed at his eyes. He rubbed so hard that he saw spots dance behind the darkness of his eyelids. When he reopened his eyes everyone was still there. “Guys!?” and he reached for the mirror. Unfortunately, he couldn’t go through. The mirror was still solid. 

 

There were happy gasps when Tino acknowledged them. At that those three standing closest to the mirror lowered their hoods. Lukas, Arthur, and Marius stood there, all three of them looking like they aged ten years since the last time Tino saw them. None more than Arthur, the poor man was sweating, his face pallid and gray looking. He looked like he was having trouble standing as he shook a little. “It worked! ” Arthur cheered regardless of his sickly looking complexion. He sounded far away, probably because he was. He was a whole other dimension away. 

 

“Tino, where are you right now!? Are you safe?!” Lukas immediately stepped forward. Like Arthur, Lukas wasn’t looking so hot, he was sweaty, and his mouth would occasionally twist into a barely hidden grimace. Like he was trying to stave off a sour stomach without alerting anyone. 

 

Tino quickly looked towards the door of the bathroom. It was, thankfully, a private bathroom and Tino had locked the door. “I’m on a train. I’m safe for now.” He looked back at Lukas quickly. “That being said, I already made an enemy.” 

 

“I was worried about that. Who?” 

 

“Denmark.” 

 

At that Andersen poked his head into the frame of the mirror. “Say what? I’d never hurt my baby brother!” He yelled. 

 

“Oh yes, you would. There’s too much to tell you all, I wish I had more time, but we’re getting ready to disembark here soon.” He put his hands on the sink as he let out a scared exhale. His feelings finally caught up to him as his vision blurred with tears. “This world is wrong . All wrong!” He told them in a hushed but urgent tone. His fingers clawed at the metal sink as he started to shake. “Everyone is so mean . I’m with their version of Sweden right now, he’s trustworthy, but he’s…he’s the nordic’s punching bag! Their Denmark slammed his head into a wall repeatedly until he became deaf ! I haven’t met the version of myself yet, but according to Esbjørn he’s even meaner . He broke Iceland’s arm just because he could . Micronations have it worse here! They’re—” He had to stop himself from saying the truth when he realized Wendy and Sven were very much present. “This place isn’t for the weak.” 

 

“Breathe.” Berwald’s voice, though far sounded, cut through the air and made Tino realize he had worked himself up. He breathed out slowly and felt his shoulders slump. Tino looked up at the ceiling and blinked his tears away, he then swallowed hard and looked back at the mirror. At everyone looking at him. 

 

Tino’s throat felt dry and he jumped when there was a knock at the door. “I—I’ll be out in a moment!” He called to the person on the other side and turned back to the others in the mirror. “Like I said. I want to tell you guys everything, but I can’t. This place is completely backwards, just know this, we’re trying to get to Oliver. Oliver, by the way, is batshit crazy .” He hissed to the mirror. 

 

“Gathered that.” Arthur coughed. It was a worse cough that looked like it shook him to his very core. 

 

“You don’t understand, Arthur, this version of England…None of his colonies have independence, not even America.” 

 

At that Alfred tensed. “What?” Alfred asked in a soft voice but it was still heard. 

“I don’t know the full detail, just that this version of America is—” The knocking returned, a little more impatient. “—In a minute!” Tino yelled to the person on the other side. “—This version of America is not only dependent on England, but he’s compliant . He’s like a—a… Guard dog. He does Oliver’s bidding.” 

 

“That’s not good.” Ivan showed himself now, in his arms were cups of water. He approached the mirror and handed a cup of water to Lukas, Marius, and Arthur. Arthur took a tentative sip, but immediately hacked up one of those painful body-wracking coughs again. 

 

“We’ll try and contact you again, we promise, just stay strong, Tino.” Lukas got in front of Arthur, something that was purposeful as Marius rushed to help lower a still coughing Arthur to the ground. 

 

Tino had so much more he wanted to say. So much. He wanted to tell them how everyone was still at war, how Dansleif had nuclear weapons . How insane this world felt, but he couldn’t. The knocking came back and Tino hung his head. He reached a hand up, he wanted to hold Berwald’s hand so badly, but he just couldn’t. “I understand. I don’t know about the others, or where they may be, but I have a suspicion we all might be heading in the same direction. Please, hurry, but more importantly, don’t over do it. Arthur looks like he’s knocking on death’s door.”

 

Arthur’s hand came up from the floor and he simply flipped Tino a very shaky bird.

“I have to go.” Tino whispered as he looked towards the door. “I love you all.” 

 

Lukas said something, but Tino couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then, in the blink of an eye, he, and everyone else were gone. All that was left was his own shaken reflection. Tino swallowed hard and let his head hang. “Okay.” He straightened up and inhaled sharply. He left the bathroom and the man who had been knocking so urgently at the door. Tino only shook his head as he passed by the nameless stranger and returned to Esbjørn. Esbjørn was gently scratching behind Hugo’s ears and when Tino did return, Esbjørn visibly perked. 

 

You were gone for a while, everything okay? He signed to Tino. 

 

Tino looked at him and debated for just a second if he wanted to tell the truth. Yeah. He would sign and then sit back down. I’m just still trying to get used to everything, I think. It wasn’t a lie, nor was it the truth. He’ll call it what it truly was, avoidance. Still, Esbjørn didn’t push.

 

The train would come to a stop no more than ten minutes later. Into the nearest city, where the two of them would get a car not exactly in a way one would call ‘legal’ in all honesty. Tino stole it. Fairly easily in all honesty. The guy had just left his car, the doors were unlocked, and when the guy was far enough away, Tino hopped in, hot wired the car and off they went. Their plan now clear. Was it the best plan? Probably not, but it was a plan. They were going to go from France to the UK.  

 

Hugo was resting in the back seat, while Tino drove. He figured between the two of them he was probably the better driver. At one point Esbjørn got his attention by tapping Tino’s shoulder. 

 

Rekko can also hotwire cars. He once stole Magnus’s car to drive to the bar. 

 

It was obvious that Esbjørn was just trying to make conversation. 

 

Tino only blinked at him and didn’t respond as he looked back out the windshield. 

 

It was going to be a long drive to France. 

---

"That's right," Oliver hummed softly to himself as he stared at the window he had already made. One that was looking in on those from the other side. "Keep killing yourself, Arthur." He said while leaning back into his seat. "Though, I am growing rather bored watching you try and fail. Maybe I'll send someone to you? I have rested up quite a bit since bringing the others into my world and I haven't tried sending someone to yours yet. It should be fun. Oh, Alistair would love it! To fight Alfred in a one on one! Alistair would want nothing more than to bash Alfred's fat head in with his bat...But sadly, Alistair is needed with me." Oliver sipped again from his tea. "I could send you Francois, but that's not fun. He's just a lousy drunk that smells foul now adays. Perhaps that's my fault. I do spoil him." Oliver looked over his shoulder into the living room. Where Francois was and where he would remain unless needed. 

 

Oliver then snapped his fingers. "I know what I can do... I think I'll send them the crybaby. He won't survive them. He simply won't. He's too soft. Heaven only knows how he made it this far." and he stood. "With him out of the way, his plot of land would be up for grabs. Alistair's been wanting it for eons and I want it too: We could split it." Oliver smiled. "It's too perfect. Let me just go and get my Grimoire." and with a snap of his fingers, Oliver vanished from the kitchen. His new plan already in action. 

Notes:

Who do you think the 'crybaby' is?

To make it a little easier on you guys, I promise it's not Feliciano. It is another 2p lmao.

Chapter 10: Alistair

Notes:

Tw: One slur used the slur being "Homo."

Also tw: bone breaking.

If Matthew thought his relationship with Alfred was unhealthy, he was wrong. His and Alfred’s relationship was great . At least that’s how he’s seeing it after James explained his relationship with Alistair. “—During sparring, Alistair gives it his all, like his life is actually in danger. I suppose that’s a… good ? Thing. He wasn’t holding back. He also broke my limbs several times. Once, he broke my ankle by stomping on it as hard as he could. It was one of our first sparring matches. We were just kids and he stomped on my ankle with all of his might. I cried. What kid wouldn’t? Oliver healed me, of course, but he wasn’t happy that it had happened so fast. We had just started. He expected better of me.” 

 

Matthew stared at James and his brow creased. “Wait a minute?—well, hang on, One: It is not a good thing that he went so hard during sparring. Sparring is to test your limits and strengths, not to break your opponent. That’s beside the point! You said you both were children?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“This happened after you were given to England? Before the Revolutionary War? Because during that time I was a teen and Alfred was an adult and not to brag but Arthur would not pit us against each other, he knew it was a one way fight.” 

 

“The rev—The what? What are you talking about?” 

 

Matthew felt his eyes go wide. “The… revolutionary war? The war where America won its independence from England? Where America became a sovereign nation?”

 

“...” James’s brow creased.

Matthew suddenly felt rather anxious. Matthew could see the cogs in James’s head twisting in thought and that wasn’t exactly a good thing to notice. “Wait…Are you talking about…The rebellion in the 1770’s? The one America had. It was just a small little volunteer army that went nowhere?” 

 

If Matthew wasn’t already sitting, he would have needed to sit. “Oh dear god. Is your America not independent?!”

 

“No??? Is yours?”

 

“Yes! I am too! Aren’t you?!”

“No!? You think the loon will let me be independent from him?” 

 

Matthew clasped his hands together like he was praying and then pressed it against his mouth in shock. “Do you have…a map ?”

 

“A  map?”

“Of America? I need to see it, is he still fifty states or is he just the thirteen colonies!?”

 

“Calm down.” 

 

“How can you tell me to calm down!? Everything is…it’s wrong! If America isn’t independent from England then that means he isn’t the same as mine. His history is completely different! For all I know he owns Russia instead of Alaska!” 

 

“He doesn’t— Well… No. He doesn't own Russia. That being said, Russia does give Alistair whatever he wants, but to be fair: Alistair is a massive bully who owns so much nuclear weaponry that it’s only a matter of time before he gets bored and just bombs everyone.” 

 

“...I want to go home.” Matthew whispered, he was missing Alfred more and more. James only seemed to sympathize as he patted Matthew’s shoulder gently. Matthew shut his eyes before sucking in a deep breath and he sat up. “Okay. I’m fine.” 

 

“Well, that’s good—” James then perked visibly and he looked towards the door. At the same time Bernadette let out a loud whine and suddenly ran behind James’s legs. At this James grabbed Matthew by his upper arm and hoisted him up to his feet. 

 

“Ow, hey!” Matthew protested on instinct at being handled in such a way. 

 

“Shut it, go to my room and hide in the bathroom in my bedroom! Now!” James pushed Matthew towards the hallway. 

 

“Wh—” Matthew went to turn, but he was shocked when James’s stoic tone broke with an urgent and angry—

 

“ Now! ” At this Bernadette seemed to know what to do as the wolf got a head start, her tail tucked between her legs. 

 

Matthew decided to trust him. He hopped back a step before turning and running into the bedroom. He just managed to slip into the bathroom when heard a bang ! that reverberated all around the house. It was so powerful that Matthew was sure the walls shook. He managed to quietly shut the door to the bathroom just in time. 

 

“What’s up, fucker!?” Came a gruff voice that made the hairs on the back of Matthew’s neck rise on end as he backed away from the door. Bernadette’s ears were down, her body hunched, tail still tucked firmly between her legs as she shook violently with fear. 

 

 His mind ran blank for a moment as he stared at the, obviously too thin, barrier between him and who had to be Alistair. His hands felt numb, his lips became dry, his breathing rang in his ears with every breath. The voices raised and Matthew backed up so far that the back of his knees hit the porcelain of the tub and he nearly fell back into the tub. ‘Run. Run. Run. Run.’ Was all that was playing on repeat in his head. Matthew looked around the bathroom for any means of escape as the yelling not only became louder, but was becoming closer .

“—Stop fuckin’ bullshitting me, I know the freak is here somewhere, Oliver doesn’t make mistakes!” That gruff voice would yell. 

 

Matthew had seconds if that as he heard James yell back.

“I’m telling you, I haven’t seen anybody! Especially not some weird other me! I don’t know what Oliver has planned, but I don’t want any part of it!” 

 

Matthew spotted the small window above the toilet. It was bigger than an awning and it seemed to slide open to the left. It was his only option of escape. Matthew looked at his own broad shoulders before deciding it was a risk he had to take. Matthew ran to the toilet, put the lid down and stepped on it. With this added height he was able to reach over and grasp the window. 

 

His eyes frantically scanned the window for a way to open it, thankful that this wasn’t a crank window at the very least. He found the tab, pulled it to the side it needed to be. He tried to slide it, but the window wouldn’t budge. His hands shook as he looked frantically for the second tab. ‘Who ever made these types of windows needs to be shot!’ Matthew thought. 

 

The walls shook again, but Matthew realized it was possibly because the brothers were now fighting . There was multiple thumps through the house, like bodies were colliding with the floor or even the walls. 

 

Matthew’s fingers continued to shake and he stared back at the window. He would in fact find that dreaded tab as it turned out the window was a pinch in type. One tab on the right, one tab on the left, pull them both in and then you can open the window. Once he got the window open, he didn’t even hesitate. He grabbed Bernadette and at the very least managed to shove the wolf out first and foremost. Bernadette fit through the window with ease and landed on the other side. The fall was a little tall, but not by much, three feet at most. Thank god they were on the ground floor. Once Bernadette was safe, it was Matthew’s turn.

“—Mother Fucker!” Came Alistar’s yell as the house shook like a herd of elephants were stomping through. That sound, and the vibrations that followed would be the two brothers still fighting. Matthew wouldn’t know it until later, but at that moment James was using all of his strength to push Alistair back into a wall. It would backfire and cost James his arm, as Alistair, with all of his strength, would break it. 

 

At that moment, though, Matthew only felt survival instincts take over, these instincts would be replaced with survival guilt later, but for now he would grab the edge of the window and pull himself up. The squeeze was tight, his stupid broad shoulders and arms being squished between the window frame. It was uncomfortable, and his long sleeve shirt would tear at the seam as he dragged himself through, but it wasn’t an impossible fit. Once his shoulders were through, he slipped on out of the window and free fell for maybe a second. He would land on his shoulder and that sent a small shockwave through his body. A shockwave that Matthew couldn’t dwell on as something hot and damp grabbed his hand. He looked up to see what had grabbed him. Bernadette was urging him up, the wolf pulling and tugging on his hand, but not putting too much pressure behind her bite as she would tug. 

 

Matthew did give a small wince of pain as he pushed himself upwards and soon he was back on his feet. His shoulder did hurt, but he was sure he didn’t break or dislocate it. No doubt he just hit the bone when he landed and that had caused the shock wave of pain. Once he was on his feet Bernadette would let his hand go and rush towards the woods. Matthew didn’t question her, if a predator was running away then he knew he should run as well. 

 

He just hoped James would be okay as he ran for the woods. He gave the house one last look before rushing behind Bernadette. 

 

---

James had felt it. The shift in the air, the way the world seemed to have gone quiet and when Bernadette had whined and ran behind him, he knew. Alistair was here. James had no doubt that Oliver had sent Alistair to collect Matthew, and possibly James himself. Oliver was probably expecting a phone call by now. So, it’s why he didn’t even think about his next move. He had to get Matthew out of here before Alistair caught him. Matthew may know how to hold his own, but James knew that Matthew wouldn’t stand a chance against Alistair. 

 

Matthew would hesitate, obviously confused, James probably wouldn’t have blamed him. Matthew came from a world where he didn’t have to look out for the small things, like the shift in the atmosphere or the silence of the world when his America showed up. Still, after James yelled at him, he seemed to have understood and off he went, Bernadette right beside him. Bernadette wasn’t scared of much, but Alistair? He didn’t blame her for running. Hell, James wanted to run right behind them just the same, but he couldn’t. 

 

Namely because seconds after they were down the hall Alistair would kick James’s front door in. “What’s up, Fucker!?” Alistair would yell in his usual and brash way as he then walked through the door like he owned the place. His heavy combat boots thudding against the ground with each step. 

 

Alistair was covered in blood. It was more of a splatter of blood, but it didn’t change the fact that it was all over him. All over his jeans, his sheepskin jacket, and mostly on the white wife-beater he wore under the jacket. It was also on his face, his sunglasses, and if James looked closely he could see flecks of red in Alistair’s dark brown hair. His metal nail encrusted louisville slugger was also covered in red, not exactly surprising there. He had that Louisville slugger slung over his shoulders and was grinning ear to ear. He greeted James with a smile. For a brief moment Alistair stuck his tongue out of his mouth to lick his lips and with that movement his silver stud piercing poked out. “Where’s my hug at?” He teased James as he opened his arms wide. James stayed still as he watched Alistair closely. Alistair snorted at this. “I’m teasin’ ya! Don’t fucking touch me, Homo.” He simply stalked in after that. “I’m assuming you know why I’m here?”

“No?!”

 

“Don’t play dumb, Jamie. Oliver sent someone to you and he hasn’t heard back. Where’s the other Canada?” Alistair went around James, his burgundy color eyes never once leaving James’s face as he just continued to walk around his brother like a shark circling its prey. His eyes were cold and calculating. 

 

“I haven’t seen anyone,” James hissed to his brother as he waved Alistair off dismissively. “It’s just been me all day, not even Bernadette is here. Maybe Oliver sent them to the wrong location! I don’t know!”

“—Stop fuckin’ bullshitting me, I know the freak is here somewhere, Oliver doesn’t make mistakes!” Alistair yelled in a sudden burst of anger as he then grabbed James by his collar and pulled his brother in. “So, be a nice little nation to your big brother and just tell me where the inferior version of you is. Yeah? I’d like to meet him personally.” There was a sadistic gleam in Alistair’s eyes as he licked his lips, his silver stud piercing poking out for a brief moment. 

 

James stared at Alistair for a moment, just a moment, then he cocked his arm back and hit Alistair right in the face. At this Alistair took a startled step back. “I’m telling you, I haven’t seen anybody! Especially not some weird other me! I don’t know what Oliver has planned, but I don’t want any part of it!” He would yell at his brother.

He opened the floodgates and now James had to pay his penance. Alistair’s head had snapped back when James hit him and when he recovered from such an attack moments later his head came down slowly. “Okay…it’s like that?” and Alistair would drop his bat. The bat hit the ground with a clatter as it rolled to a stop.  A good sign at least, he wasn’t out to murder James, just maul.

The two brothers then charged at one another and met in the middle. James grabbed Alistair by his middle and forced him back. Alistair crashed against the wall and at this he gasped out, probably more out of surprise than anything else. Alistair would quickly recover from this surprise, however. Alistair’s elbow slammed into the base of James’s neck and this made James gasp before he instinctively grabbed the back of his neck and collapsed to the ground. Once James was down, Alistair’s boot met his cheek and James went flying back, his body rolling along the ground before it hit the wall. 

 

James groaned loudly as he tasted blood and when he coughed out a little dribble of blood splattered on the hardwood floor below him. Alistair turned his body towards James’s room at that and James growled, slamming both of his hands on the floor before scrambling and rushing towards Alistair with everything he had. With a war cry, or really a war grunt, he caught Alistair and slammed him into the nearest wall. Alistair let out his own growl and this time reached behind James and grabbed his ponytail. He pulled his brother’s head back, exposing his neck, and with this he made a move like he was going to either throat punch James or throat chop him, either way James was prepared. He brought his right knee up and jammed it as hard as he could into Alistair's crotch. An honest to good squeak left Alistair’s mouth as he instinctively leaned down to clutch his wounded pride. When he did that James upcut him. James’s fist hit the bottom of Alistair’s chin and Alistair stumbled back from this attack. 

 

A deep growl left Alistair’s throat as his head fell forward, his sunglasses gone, and his eyes were now alight with anger. “Mother Fucker!” Alistair roared and lunged for James. James was just a little quicker as he grabbed Alistair’s arms before he could grapple with James. Once he had Alistair’s arms in his grasp, James started to push Alistair back. At this point James didn’t even see that they had entered his own bedroom as he did this. He used all he had to try and keep Alistair’s arms straight and locked as he and Alistair stared at one another. James managed to slam Alistair into the nearest wall for what felt like the umpteenth time. 

 

That was when Alistair smiled, it was a sadistic smile that sent chills down James’s spine. “You never learn, little brother.” Was James’s only warning. Alistair used one of his legs to kick behind James’s knee. He had used just enough pressure to make James take a knee and loosen his grip on Alistair’s arms. With this Alistair yanked both of his arms free and punched James right in the cheek. James grunted as his body went down lower to the ground. “Honestly, Canada, it’s cute you think you can go toe to toe with me, but we both know that you are no match for me.” Alistair grabbed James’s right arm. “And I need to remind you of that fact!”

“Wait—” James tried to jerk his arm free but Alistair held it so tight that his fingers left bruises along James’s wrist almost immediately.

At that moment, James felt like a kid again, sparring with Alistair, helpless and never good enough to beat his older brother. Alistair standing over him, grinning that very same sadistic grin every time he broke James’s nose, or busted his lip.

The very same grin he had now as he stomped on James’s extended arm with all of his might. There was a sickening crack and James couldn’t help but scream as he felt the bone shift under his skin. 

 

Alistair sighed as he leaned down. “Now, if you’re nice— I’ll wait.” Alistair said as James continued to groan in the intense throbbing pain that tore down his arm like a tidal wave. Intense and never ending. James gritted his teeth so hard he was afraid they were going to crack. He stared at Alistair with blurry vision while hyperventilating. “Done?” Alistair asked and when James didn’t respond through his gritted teeth, Alistair took that as a go ahead. “Okay. Now, if you’re nice, and just tell me where you’re hiding this other Canada, I just so happen to have one of these bad boys on me.” And he whipped out one of Oliver’s potions. He twirled it over his knuckles with quick and precise movements. Moving the vial back and forth with ease. 

 

James stared at Alistair, then at the potion, then— “Pbth!” He spat at Alistair. His glob of spit hitting Alistair right in the face. 

 

“...Pity.” Alistair sighed deeply and tucked the potion back into his jacket pocket. He then wiped the spit from his face. “You were always so hard headed. I told Oliver this was a possibility. You are just so… soft .” 

 

James felt the urge to spit on Alistair again, but held back, namely because he wanted to keep his teeth. 

 

“Look, brother to brother, this is me being honest with you. Pops doesn’t have to know you’re protecting that…that fuckin’ pansy. Just tell me where he is and we can put this all behind us, Jamie. I may enjoy beating you to a pulp, but it’s no fun when Pops does it. Because if he learns of this he’s going to be so mad. Do you want him mad?” Alistair tried one last time to get James to cooperate.

“He’s not here .” James whispered to Alistair. 

 

Alistair let out a sigh. “Welp, I tried to be nice.” Alistair then walked towards the bathroom. “Oliver is going to be so disappointed in you.” He said as he leaned against the door for a moment. Then he turned and kicked the door in. It shattered, breaking off its hinges. “Surprise!... Hmph.” Alistair looked around the bathroom before sighing and putting his hands on his hips. “He couldn’t have gotten far.” Alistair then looked down at James. “Just know this, Jamie, you protecting him isn’t going to do anything and what happens now that he’s running? Is on you. If that little fucker fights me, I’m not just going to fight back. I’m going to destroy him.” 

 

James couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was just a soft mirthless laugh that made him shake his head. “ You’re free to try .” Was all James could bring himself to say and that made Alistair tilt his head to the side. His eyes gave nothing away as he just stared at James.

“I think that’s enough of you. Expect Oliver to pick you up soon.” Alistair turned.

Weirdly, at that moment Oliver’s words did ring through James’s head as he watched Alistair turn. Alistair’s guard was down, he figured he won. Alistair probably didn’t think that James would get back up.

‘ Then you need to stop this moping and you need to find his weakness, everyone has one, this includes your twin. He’s strong, yes, but you are not helpless! If he’s strong then you need to be fast . You will be a strong nation, I see it in you. That’s why I plant you against your brother. Because he is the strongest of the lot and one day you will beat him.’

 

James stood he slow, unsteady, his arm hurt, but Alistair made a rather crucial mistake. The arm he broke was James’s non-dominant arm. James was quick as he unplugged his bedside lamp from the wall. He wrapped the cord around his fist, namely so it wouldn’t drag along the ground. Then he held the lamp by its upper area so the base was up. James then made big strides towards his brother. Alistair still had his back to James and was even bending down to pick up his forgotten glasses. “Alistair!” James yelled once close enough. Alistair was in the process of turning and that’s when James struck. With only one working arm, James swung the lamp down on Alistair’s temple with all of his might.

Alistair’s body crumbled like a house of cards. The base of the lamp was heavy and James put as much force as he possibly could behind the attack. Alistair hit the ground, eyes rolled back into his skull, fingers twitching wildly, blood leaking out of his temple. Blood was splattered over the floor from the attack in a spray.  James took a step back as he stared at Alistair. Then he raised the lamp over his head, his chest heaved up and down as his throat felt tight and his vision blurred again. But he paused… 

 

“...Fuck. Maybe I am soft.” He said as he lowered the lamp and then let it fall to the ground with a ‘thump’ that broke the bulb. “I can’t do it.”

James only shook his head as he, still with one hand, grabbed Alistair’s arm and lifted it up. He then reached into his jacket pocket where he found the potion. He undid the potion top with his teeth before chugging it down as fast as he possibly could. The potion took effect immediately and James dropped the vial, it broke on contact with the floor while an excruciating pain flooded through James’s body. The feeling of his arm re-fusing back together was not a pleasant one, added with how his eyes watered and how his sinuses stunt. He gasped and sputtered for several agonizing seconds. 

 

Then, it was over as soon as it came. James would blink frantically to get the tears from his eyes as he stood fully. “I won, mother fucker! I finally fucking won!” He pointed at Alistair. “Don’t you fucking forget it!” He demanded as he then grabbed his keys from the key rack at his door and ran out.  Matthew needed him and James had a pretty good idea where they probably went. 

---

Matthew walked next to Bernadette, the two of them walking down a road. A road that should be teeming with life, with cars, and people out shopping, but it was anything but. The road was quiet, the city silent. The only sign of life was the soft humming of the electrical wires. The place felt abandoned, but clearly it wasn’t . Matthew spotted people peeping out of their blinds at him only to shut those blinds seconds later. It felt like a dystopia or maybe even apocalyptic, or maybe both . 

 

“Ow!” Matthew hissed as he hopped up and down on one foot quickly. The pain had been quick and sharp in his right foot. He looked down to see a piece of glass jutting out of his foot. To be fair, that’s what he got for not wearing shoes, but to be even fairer he didn’t have time to grab any anyway! “Stupid Arthur and his stupid ‘no shoes on in my house’ rule.” Matthew grumbled bitterly as he painstakingly pulled the glass out of his foot. Blood welled up and stained his white sock a crimson red rather quickly. He tossed the glass and Matthew hopped on one foot towards the sidewalk. Bernadette stayed with him even as he slowly lowered himself to the ground. He groaned softly as he put his foot on his knee to inspect the damage. 

 

“I should get a bandage.” He scratched at his head as he thought about just where he could get a bandage. “I should also get some shoes.”

At this he heard a scratching noise that made Matthew turn his body towards the direction. It was Bernadette, she was on her hindlegs, paws on a window that looked to be to a store. She looked at him and her tail started to wag. Matthew tilted his head at her. He then pushed himself up and hopped on one foot towards her. He had to use the walls to help keep himself steady. He finally got to what she was trying to show him. 

 

It looked to be a clothing store, right in the window was a pair of cowboy boots as a matter of fact. The problem? It was clearly closed as the lights were off. “Thanks for trying, girl, but the store is closed.” Matthew told her and Bernadette’s ears went back as he turned away from her.  

 

Matthew’s ears picked up a new noise. The sound of an engine. He looked around to see who was the brazen soul to be driving. Well, the answer wouldn’t surprise him as a candy red pick-up truck would zoom up to him, stopping so suddenly that the breaks squeaked. James would turn the car off, just in the middle of the road and hop out. He looked fine , a little haggard, his hair slightly out of its ponytail, but he looked perfectly fine. A relief for Matthew. “You’re okay! I was so worried that the fight was much worse.”

 

“Trust me, it wasn’t fun. We need to move—” James then looked down at Matthew standing on one leg. “—What’s all this?” He asked. 

 

“Stepped on glass. No place seems to be open?” 

 

“Yeah, not surprised. Alistair has that effect.” 

 

Matthew blinked at those words. “What?” He would ask. 

 

“Don’t worry about it. C’mon, let’s get you some shoes.” James spotted Bernadette and then the store. “Perfect.” 

 

“Whoa! Wait!” Matthew already sensed what James was going to do eve before the man grabbed the softball sized rock off of the sidewalk.

CRASH!

 

One good swing of James’s arm and the window stood no chance. 

 

“James!” Matthew protested as he hopped quickly towards the other man. 

“Don’t take another step or you’ll be out on both feet!” James snapped at him when Matthew dared to get too close to the broken shop window. “What size shoe are you?”

“This is wrong!” Matthew hissed at James in an urgent and pleading tone. 

 

“Listen to me. I understand that where you’re from you have morals and what not, but you need to understand, Alistair is just down , he’s not taken care of. He is out for blood, your blood, because that’s what Oliver wants. He’s already pissed at me because I slammed a lamp into the back of his head. He is going to wake and he is going to be pissed . We don’t have time to be morally in the right. We need to leave before Alistair catches up, or worse, before he tells Oliver. If he tells Oliver…” James shook his head. “Look.” James looked Matthew dead in the eyes as he spoke next. “If Alistair tells Oliver, I’m likely to vanish. As in Oliver knows how to teleport me and only me. I don’t think he can you, yet. I’m on borrowed time. I need you prepared if or… when that happens. So, I’m going to ask again. Shoe size?”

Matthew felt his brow furrow at this. “...Ten and a half.”

 

“Thank you. I hope you don’t mind boots.” And after looking, James would not only toss a pair of square-toed cowboy boots Matthew’s way, but he would also find a cheap shirt off the rack. “Here.” James held the shirt in his arm as he hopped the broken window. He wrapped arm around Matthew’s waist and helped him hop to the truck. Once at the truck Matthew sat while James tore the shirt to make a bandage. 

 

“...You hit your own brother in the head with a lamp?” 

 

“Well, he broke my arm. So, call it even.” James said as he wrapped the makeshift bandage around Matthew’s foot. Once his foot was bandaged, Matthew opened the box of boots and slipped them on his feet with ease. There was a little pressure from the bandaged foot, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

James let out a sharp whistle and at this Bernadette hopped into the truck with ease, sitting in the middle between Matthew and James. Matthew put his legs on the seat and then wrapped his arms around his knees as he looked at James. James caught Matthew staring. “What?” he grunted.

“Will Oliver really take you?” Matthew asked.

“Yeah, if he suspects me of betraying him, he will. Which is why if I do go I need you to be ready to face him or Alistair alone.” 

 

“But, we’re going to Oliver’s aren’t we?”

 

“Us getting the drop on Oliver and Oliver taking me are two different things. One involves us possibly outsmarting Oliver, not exactly easy, but the other involves me being bound and forced into a basement.”

 

“Basement?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

 

“...” Matthew would reach up and hesitate for just a moment before he put his hand on James. Matthew then ran his thumb up and down the back of James’s hand for a moment before he pulled his hand away and sighed. “What now? Drive to the airport?”

 

“...I don’t know.” James admitted. “Give me some time to think, okay?”

 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

 

And they were off: The road is uncertain and yet most certainly bumpy at the same time. 

 

Notes:

I am a firm believer that 2p America says slurs, but that's just me.

Also, fun fact and I did this on purpose: 2P America in this story is the only one with brown hair. Seriously, go back, everyone either has 'dirty blonde' or sandy colored hair. I, as I stated, purposely made it so only 2p America is the only 'blonde' nation to have brown hair. (so 2p Italy doesn't count.)

I love James and Matthew's relationship in this so far.

Also: Everyone is finally on the move! :D

Chapter 11: Igor

Notes:

"Wait, isn't this chapter going to focus on Sealand since everyone else had their turn again?" Nope. See, here's the thing with Sealand. I can only say "He's trapped in a house." So many times. He'll come back, I promise, it's just out of everyone he's the one who needs to take the back burner the most because he's trapped in Oliver's home.

Feliciano should have guessed that Luciano wouldn’t have let him go so easily. They were still in Italy, nearly at the border between to Switzerland. They were maybe an hour away when out of nowhere there was a Tink! noise and Feliciano looked over to his sideview mirror to find it mysteriously gone. 

“Uh-oh.” was the only sound he could make. He looked into his rearview mirror and saw a figure approaching fast and angry. The figure was driving a bright green Fiat Panda that was gaining on them. 

Well, Leon didn’t seem to get the hint and Feliciano watched both amazed and bewildered, as Leon proceeded to stick his head out of the window. “Is that Luciano?” The man asked and Feliciano grabbed him by the back of the collar and yanked him back in.

“Idiota!” Feliciano cursed suddenly. “Are you trying to get shot!? Keep your head down!” He then shoved Leon down so his head was between his legs.

Then Feliciano had a rather strange and lucid moment. ‘Is this what Ludwig has to do with me?’ He could only wonder. ‘Nah.’ Feliciano then determined  as he kept his foot on the pedal and tried to evade the Fiat by turning so quickly down a street that the Spyder went on two wheels. He was unphased by this, but Leon let out a startled noise as he popped up and grabbed the door for dear life. 

The Fiat was not phased as it turned that corner just as sharply as Feliciano had. Feliciano, at this point, had straightened out and could only be thankful that this car was a sports car and was keeping some distance between the Fiat. That being said, what didn’t help was that whoever was shooting at them, be it Kuro, Luciano, or some unknown third party, was using a silencer. He knew this because there was that small and metallic Tink! Sound again and he had no idea where the bullet had hit, but he was just glad it wasn’t him or Leon. 

The other fiat, despite not being as fast or flashy as the Spyder, was gaining and what’s more, now that they were close enough, Feliciano was able to see that yes, it most certainly had to be Luciano. 

Feliciano didn’t know how he truly felt at that moment as he was staring at his own enraged face in the rearview mirror. As much as he wanted to think about it, he really couldn’t because this version of himself was actively shooting and Feliciano just wanted to make it to the UK in one piece. 

There were more metallic Tink!-ing noises as the Spyder was gaining more holes in its exterior. Luciano would stick his whole upper body out of the window, his auburn hair whipping back from the winds as he clung to the top of the fiat. His mouth was twisted into a snarl, his eyebrows furrowed down, and his teeth were Cleary gnashing. Feliciano didn’t think it was possible to see someone so angry, and Feliciano lives with Ludwig! 

The engine of the Spyder roared loudly as Feliciano was reaching high speeds, dangerous speeds even for a speedster like himself. Namely because he was in the alps. The mountain roads were steep and one wrong move could cause Feliciano to go off the road. Something someone doesn’t want to do on a mountain. So, Feliciano had to be fast, but also careful. Which meant he had to focus solely on the road. Something that wasn’t exactly easy when someone was actively shooting at the car. 

"Leon, are their any weapons that Luciano keeps in his car?" Feliciano asked quickly as he now how to balance between looking out the windshield and at the rearview mirror. He saw that gun raise just in time to duck his head. It was a good thing to because this time there wasn't a Tink! there was a smash! and the sound of glass raining. When Feliciano looked up; he saw that the rearview window in the back was broken and so was the windshield.

Feliciano stared at the bullet hole in the windshield in the glass for a lot longer than he should have. Then, he had another lucid moment when Leon didn't answer his question. Ludwig isn't here to save you. Feliciano gritted his teeth as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Leon!" He yelled to the man again. This got Leon's attention and they locked eyes. Leon's eyes were wide, the terror clear on his face as he had both of his hands twisting into his tank top. Feliciano felt for the man, hell, he was shaking just the same as Leon was right now. That being said: Feliciano wanted to see Ludwig again. He had to see Ludwig again. So, with renewed vigor he instead kept his foot firmly on the pedal. "Fine." he would ground in determination before deciding on one thing then and there: He wasn't going to slow down.

If there was one thing Feliciano could do, it was drive fast. He may be a reckless driver, but that didn't mean he was a bad driver. If anything; going so fast on a twisting and turning mountain road made him more cautious. He had to be sure he was going to nail every twist, every turn, and try and not fall off the mountain side in a convertible.

He saw a turn coming up and heard that familiar Tink! noise. 'It's only a matter of time before he tries to shoot a tire or the gas tank. If I don't lose him soon then things will get messy.' Feliciano wanted to cry, but he couldn't because crying wouldn't solve anything right now. So, he blinked back his tears and looked at Leon. Namely if Leon was buckled in. He was. Leon and him shared a look for a brief moment.

"I've never seen Luciano so mad," Leon would finally admit. "I don't think I can come back from this mistake."

Feliciano felt for the man, really, he did. He was in a bad situation, and truthfully, it was Feliciano who put him in this very bad situation to start with. Still, Feliciano didn't say anything as he looked back at the road, at the broken windshield, at the turn that was coming up.

Feliciano felt his knuckles start to hurt with hard hard he was gripping the wheel. He literally couldn't put anymore pressure on the gas pedal as his foot was too the floor. "Leonard. Hang on." Feliciano warned him and that would be the only warning he could give as he jerked the wheel at the turn. The car whipped violently along the turn with it nearly going off the road, turning the curb of the turn, Feliciano hit the breaks for just a moment. This saved them from nearly careening off the mountain side long enough to make the turn and for him to pick the speed back up.

"I'm going to kill you!" He heard Luciano scream at the top of his lungs. Which was impressive given the winds that roared through Feliciano's ears and the distance between them.

They had just enough of a gap between them and Luciano's car that Feliciano was able to get the gap bigger and bigger with every turn down the Italian alps. Still, Luciano was still there, still behind them, no matter the gap, this was one road.

That was until Feliciano looked down the at the other roads. The roads that he needed to get to so he could cross this mountain path and get elsewhere.

"..." Feliciano wasn't the smartest of men. Not even the smartest nation. Anyone with a brain could tell. Yet, he had a moment that sounded almost like a decent idea, at least at this time. He wanted distance. More distance, and he wanted off the road, away from this crazy version of himself.

So, Feliciano decided to do the dumbest thing he could ever think to do at that moment. He looked at Leon and said: "Hang on."

Leon sure as hell didn't know what Feliciano had in store, Feliciano knew this because Leon didn't hang on to anything. Also because when Feliciano saw the first gap in the railing and took it, Leon let out an earth shattering screech. The car flew down the mountain side, Feliciano didn't know how large the gap was, large enough for him to raise up out of his seat when they were in the air. When they slammed back down to the asphalt below with a screech of metal, Feliciano felt the impact all the way up his spine to his very teeth. Hell, Feliciano was more surprised that he didn't chip a tooth with the impact as he had been clenching his jaw.

Surprisingly, he did not break an axel, and the car still ran, though the tires wobbled, they wobbled noticeably in all honesty, but Feliciano couldn't think about that. That jump gave him the distance he needed and he couldn't hesitate in case Luciano got the same crazy idea.

Feliciano would look out the rearview mirror, waiting with bated breath as he drove down the road at a fast pace. The Fiat Panada would not resurface. It seemed that whoever was driving had better sense than to jump off of the side of a mountain and Feliciano was honestly grateful for that. Still, he didn't relax, he couldn't. Every thirty or so seconds he was checking that rearview mirror.

They would make it off the mountain and soon a fork in the road where Feliciano would go down the left path towards Switzerland.

It wasn't until the alps and it's trail were completely out of his view did Feliciano finally untense he shoulders and let out a shaky and uneven exhale. Then, he would finally look at Leon. Leon was pale, and he was clutching at his own shirt with both hands as his teeth audibly chattered together. His eyes were wide as his body completely trembled. Feliciano opened his mouth, ready to say something, anything to calm the poor man down, but nothing came to his mind. So, he would just keep his mouth shut and focus on the road.

"You're crazy..." Leon would finally say as he let out a shaky and completely unhinged laugh. "Absolutely bonkers!"

Feliciano looked at Leon, at his scared face, and something in Feliciano broke. Maybe it was because it was Ludwig's own scared face staring back at him, or maybe it was because the realization that he jumped off of a damn mountain finally caught up to him. Yet it was not in the way he was usually used to. Instead of crying, Feliciano stared at Leon for a second, maybe two, and suddenly Feliciano let out a laugh. It wasn't a cruel laugh. Oh no, it was just a breathy, uneven bit of laughter. "I'm sorry!" He shook his his head and waved one hand in Leon's direction. "I'm not laughing at you. I just..." and he let out another bit of laughter. "Yesh, Ludwig would be scolding me by now!" He finally said.

"I can hear it as if he's here! 'Italien I love you, but what the fuck where you thinking doing a move like that! Are you trying to give me a heart-attack!? Are you trying to kill yourself!?'." He quoted the fake scolding out loud.

This actually calmed Leon down, just enough for Leon to look at him.

Feliciano looked back and forth between the road and Leon after while. "What?" He asked the German.

"You keep saying how he loves you, it's weird is all. Is it like a romantic or—"

And Feliciano raised his hand up. "I'm surprised you didn't see it," and he twisted the ring that rested on his third finger. "He proposed a month ago. We haven't told anyone. We weren't going to tell anyone until the next summit. When we all get together and it'd be easier than telling them one by one. Though, I don't think anyone is gonna be surprised."

"Wow!" Leon blushed suddenly. "He asked you to marry him. Wow..." and he looked at the sky that was starting to turn dark.

Feliciano looked at his reflection in his ring. It was a simple flat golden band. While the original tomato ring was nice it was a little too flashy for Feliciano's style. With the band on his finger he looked at his own reflection for a moment before being able to see Leon's reflection in the gold just the same.

Leon took his hand and looked at the ring for himself. "It's nice." He commented. "Does he hurt you?" The question had came out of nowhere and was so sudden that Feliciano nearly swerved off the road.

"Oh no! No, Ludwig would never! He may yell at me, and maybe I might get a swat on the head, but the swats are only if I've done something dumb! Like, you know...drive off a mountain side." Feliciano gave a nervous laugh as he took his hand back and focused on the road. For about two seconds, because Leon thought about and then proceeded to swat Feliciano on the head.

"OW!" Feliciano yelled and this time he did swerve off the road. Thankfully, they weren't on a mountain anymore so he was able to get back on the road. "What the hell was that!?" He would demand of Leon.

"I just thought—I mean you were talking about how you missed him and I thought— Oh, I don't know what I was thinking to be honest."

"...You're not Ludwig," Feliciano told Leon softly once it clicked. "Don't feel like you need to act like him, please."

Leon blinked before blushing brightly. "Right, sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good!" Feliciano then chirped. "Good news, we're getting closer to Switzerland! Maybe we can even rest there for the night.." He then felt his body sag against the drivers seat. "The time here is all funky. I have no clue how long I've been up, but I know it's been too long since I last slept. Maybe we can avoid getting killed and maybe even ditch this car." Feliciano said. "It's a nice car, but it's noticeable and not only that but I know I messed up the wheels at the very least. Let's pray it gets us to a town. What's Switzerland like, what should I prepare for? He holds back at shooting us, so I'm going to assume he's shoot-happy here."

"Switzerland is neutral. Same with Liechtenstein. They mostly keep to themselves. Vash is harsh, but fair, he threatens to shoot us, but never does, and Liechtenstein is just as cute as a button."

"Oh that's a nice change..." Then Feliciano had to think past the sudden sleepy fog that rolled in. He blinked as the cogs finally started to turn, and then looked at Leon. "Wait, what?"

---

Thirty minutes. Arthur had just meant to take a thirty minute nap. The nap was very begrudgingly, mind you. He dug his heels in, but when his nose started to bleed, Ludwig would literally pick Arthur up and put him to bed. Again, Arthur would dig in his heels, but it did little. "Thirty minutes." Was a compromise between them. Arthur would wriggle under his covers and pass out.

Well, it's been four hours and he was still asleep.

Marius and Lukas also rested during those four hours. They would nap, they would eat, and Andersen would insist on wrapping Lukas up in a hug at one point.

Still, the tension got too much. "We have to try something," Marius would flip through the pages of one of Arthur's books. "I can't stand just sitting still."

"You need to rest, or else you'll end up like Arthur." Lukas had told Marius as he stood next to the man.

"I'm at like...eighty-five percent, okay? I can handle something as long as it's small."

"Is it wise to do this without Arthur?" Ivan asked from his spot on the couch. He had one foot on his knee and was moving that foot up and down. "Those are his books, after all." he told them.

"It'll be fine! I'm older than he is, I can do these spells just as well as him!" Marius confidently stated.

"You still think Feliciano is a girl." Ludwig pointed out.

Marius snorted. "Well, now I know!"

Lukas put his hand against his chin as he stared at Marius. "Look, let's just wait for Arthur to wake up, okay—"

"We could try this." Marius then showed the book to Lukas after he cut the man off.

Lukas rolled his eyes before taking the book. He read over the ritual Marius had picked out. "This is..." Lukas made an unimpressed noise. "The exact same thing Arthur wanted to try. The one where we take blood from closest relatives to try and bring one of them through the mirror."

"Yes, and look how easy it is, we don't need Arthur. I say just you and I try this ritual and let Arthur recover. If all goes well and we get someone back, I'd say it's a win. Then we can bring everyone back without Arthur and he won't kill himself over this whole ordeal. You know, I know, we all know, if he keeps it up. He's going to do irreversible damage to himself." Marius said to Lukas.

Lukas rubbed the back of his neck. Then he looked at the crowd of people sitting in the living room with them. Each and every one of them looking either tired, or slightly irritated by how long this has been taking. "What do you guys think?" He would foolishly ask.

"Can you do it without Arthur?" Alfred would be the one to ask as he looked at his brother's glasses and propped himself against Francis.

"Well, we could technically, it would put a bit more strain on the both of us, but the ritual is simple—" Lukas looked away from Alfred to the book again, he would flip the page to read the full ritual in it's entirety. He then gave a half shrug. "—It wouldn't or shouldn't put too much strain on the pair of us."

"How much blood would you need?" Lovino asked. He was leaning back against the couch, one leg crossed over the other, fingers interlocked over his stomach.

Lukas would flip the page back over. "A drop or two, not a lot. We want Tino, Feliciano, Matthew and— that's a problem. We need Peter back , but the closest relative to Peter would be Arthur." He would mumble before bringing his thumb up to gnaw on the nail.

"So? The whole point of doing this behind Arthur's back is to see if we can do it, even if it's one at a time. Let's try for Feliciano or Matthew." Marius interjected. "Seeing as both are twins and their siblings are right there." And he gestured to Alfred and Lovino sitting on the same couch. At this point Francis was running his fingers through Alfred's hair and Alfred didn't seem to mind. "And if it works with them—" and he grabbed the book before pulling it down so he and Lukas were eye-to-eye. "—Then we know it will work with Peter and Arthur. By the time Arthur wakes, he'll be at a hundred percent and won't be knocking on Death's door."

Lukas felt himself pull a face as he looked at the book before exhaling. "Fine." He relented and Marius grinned, showing off his vampiric teeth.

"Okay, we'll start with Alfred, because this this ritual calls for concentration and we don't need a repeat of last time involving Feliciano." Lukas started to move quickly.

"You think of a guy as a girl once and you never hear the end of it." Marius grinned as he flipped his hood up.

The two worked quickly, with Marius placing down the needed candles in a circle around the mirror. "The mirror should act as a doorway... we need a knif—" Alfred had walked up to Lukas, reached into his back pocket and flicked open his pocket knife.

"Will this do?" Alfred asked as he presented the knife to Lukas.

"Is this what you needed to get?" Lukas asked as he inspected the knife, the blade was sharp and it reflected Lukas's own face back at him.

"Nah, I always keep a knife on me."

"...Okay But yes, this should work." Lukas took the knife and he pressed the tip against his thumb. He would hiss in pain and flinch when the blade penetrated his skin. Red welled up from his wound and Lukas turned. He handed the knife to Marius, who seemed to know what to do as he cut himself just the same.

They both worked in tandem as they used their blood to draw sigils along the mirror. The sigils would make a complete circle.

"That's more than a drop or two, Lukas." Andersen said in concern.

"A drop or two for Alfred. We need to give more because we are the conductors of this ritual." Lukas explained as he had to reopen his healing wound to finish drawing his sigils.

"So, like, I wasn't aware there were a lot of 'find my kidnapped sibling that's been transported to another dimension' rituals," Alfred would chime in as he watched them work. "Because there seem to be a lot."

Marius would speak before Lukas could. "Don't be silly, a majority of rituals we've been using are doorways to the other side. This one is a little different. This one is a summoning ritual. We're hoping by changing a few of the sigils around, it should, in theory, bring the person closest to you as possible. Which should be Matthew...Should."

"And if it's not?" Berwald asked.

"Then we will have to cross that bridge when we get to it." Lukas told Berwald.

When finished with their sigils, Marius looked at Lukas and handed him the knife. Lukas took the knife from Marius, then grabbed Alfred's hand. "I'm going to cut you now. Try and hold still." Lukas told Alfred. He brought the tip of the knife to Alfred's index finger. He pierced the skin and Alfred didn't even flinch; bringing Alfred's finger to the mirror, in the center of the circle of sigils, Lukas would make an X with only two drops of blood from Alfred's finger. When he released Alfred he nodded. "Go sit down." Alfred would comply.

Once it was just him and Marius near the mirror, Lukas sighed. "Let's pray this works. I want to go home."

"I feel you there. I hope Moldova is okay in my absence." Marius would say.

Together they both clapped their hands before dropping to the floor. Magic thrummed through their veins as they watched as their combined colors, red and blue, ran up the base of the mirror. The lights from the magic made a kaleidoscope of color as it bounced off of the reflective surface. It would shoot up to the bloodied sigils along the mirror.

The sigils would light up one by one reflecting the same red as the blood as it circled the X made by Alfred.

It seemed like it might work.

But should have guessed or even known at this point that Oliver wasn't going to make it simple.

Oh ho. Was literally their only warning of things to come before the red sigils turned pink and what's more they started to change, to swap around.

"Oh shit!" Marius yelled as he tried to retract his hands, to stop the ritual before Oliver could completely take it over. Lukas would also remove his hands and stop his magic, but it was just too late.

They watched as the sigils not only changed, but they would move. Alfred had leapt from his seat. "No you don't you fucker!" He would declare. "You're not ruining this one—" Before he could stop it his bloodied X turned pink and the mirror lit up. It so bright that Lukas and Marius both had to put their arms and hands over their eyes to try and save their vision. Alfred had stepped away with a groan as he too covered his eyes. Every did, they had to the mirror had lit up like a mini-sun. If they were to look at the light, it would have blinded them.

The light would die and Lukas would be the first to look at the mirror.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Alfred roared in rage as he had to turn away from the mirror and scream into his hands. And he had every right to this reaction.

There, in front of the mirror wasn't any of their own. Oh no.

It was another Russia.

A Russia that looked similar to Ivan, but also didn't. Ivan had blonde hair, this Russia had black hair, long black hair that went down past his shoulders. Ivan was big and strong, this kid looked like a strong breeze would blow him away. His jacket looked to be about three sizes too big as his hands vanished amongst the long sleeves, Oh, and he was crying, his eyes, brown in color, were blurry with tears. "Waaaaaa!" As the actual scared noise he made as he looked at everyone staring back at him. He had made an attempt to turn and run, but all he did was turn and run right into the mirror, causing the mirror to spin needlessly. Once he fell, he clutched his nose and let out another pitiful cry.

"Now—" with one big step of his mighty boot, Ivan came up to his lookalike. "—This just got interesting."

This other Russia flinched and tried to scramble away. "Don't hurt me! Don't hurt me, please!" He pleaded as he backed away on his palms.

At that moment Alfred came right next to Ivan, maybe to attack the other Russia, but Ivan put a hand out, stopping him.

The other Russia let out a noise that was nothing less of a scream of pure terror. "Alistair! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I don't know what I did, but it won't happen again!" He would yell to Alfred as he tried to scramble away even more. Well, that caused the mirror, that was still swinging to hit him in the face. When this happened he let out a yelp, a noise akin to a kicked dog, and went to the floor once again.

"Wow." Lovino said. "I think he's more pathetic than Feliciano."

"Easy, easy!" Ivan came up to his counterpart. "There is no need for that—" when Ivan grabbed the other Russia by his shoulders, the man flinched as if expecting a blow. He even brought his arm up to protect his face.

"Don't hurt me." He whimpered.

"No, no, of course not," Ivan's voice had this...sickening sweet tone to it that didn't sit well with anyone. It was clear to everyone in the room that this was just a ploy on Ivan's end. He grabbed both of this man's shoulders and hoisted him up with complete and utter ease. He had the other Russia off of the ground and in the air. "What's your name, little one?"

"...I...Igor." He would whine as he swiped at his teary eyes.

"Igor. What a name," And Ivan put him down on his feet with ease. "You are...tiny. Small...weak." Ivan observed.

Igor would have answered, but Alfred took another step forward and the man let out another scream of fear as he grabbed on to Ivan's sleeve and actually hid behind his counterpart. "I'm sorry, Alistair!" He would yell before pressing his face into Ivan's back. "It won't happen again!"

Alfred was silent as he looked Igor up and down. His anger still there, but slowly dissipating. "That's not— That's not my name, Dude."

"..." Igor didn't answer as he trembled behind Ivan. "I'm sorry..." He would whine.

Everyone looked at one another in confusion, yet there was another tension, one that was starting to grow just beneath the surface. A fear.

"I take it this... Alistair isn't a nice one?" Ivan asked in that same sickeningly sweet and pandering tone towards Igor. Igor didn't nod or shake his head. He didn't even look up at Ivan when Ivan looked at him. "Come on, little one, you can tell me. I won't get mad."

Igor only shook his head. "I mustn't...I can't...speak ill of Alistair in anyway."

Ivan looked down at Igor. "I see." he whispered. "I'm not so sure I like this Alistair."

"You're telling me." Alfred huffed. "I need a drink." He ran his hand through his hair as he stalked off, past Igor. When he walked past Igor, the man flinch violently, as if he expected Alfred to punch him right in the face with no warning. Alfred wouldn't of course. He would look at Igor, and Igor never once took his eyes off of Alfred. Even when Alfred's back was to him, Igor watched him.

"...Well... that was a bust." Marius sat crisscrossed on the ground and rested his elbow on his knee as he stared at Igor and Ivan.

"Tell me about it."

"Can we send him back?"

"Dunno."

"Arthur is going to freak if we don't."

Well, his timing was impeccable. Arthur would walk down the hallway, his eyes still half lidded, dark circles under those tired eyes. He was scratching at his back, and hunched over. "Why didn't anyone wake me?" Arthur asked in a deep and groggy voice.

Everyone in the living stopped to look at him.

Arthur was still exhausted as he simply walked in and up to Marius and Lukas. "Why are you chaps on the floor?" he would ask.

Marius and Lukas both looked at Arthur, then at Igor, who was standing less then ten feet away, then back at Arthur. "Uh, well, funny story actually." Marius said and then pointed at Lukas. "Lukas tried a ritual, it didn't work and now we have two Russias—"

Lukas had Marius in a headlock and pulled Marius back into him before wrapping his legs around the man to keep him still.

"Huh?" Arthur's sleepy mind didn't catch up for several seconds. All Arthur heard was the old dial-up sound in his ears. Then he would blink, rub his eyes, and turned to Ivan. "What—" Then his eyes landed on Igor, who was doing his best to be as quiet and as still as possible up until that very moment. The moment they locked eyes. All of the anxiety that had been quietly building inside of Igor exploded out into a loud and nearly violent sob.

"Oliver! I don't know what I did, but I swear it won't happen again! Don't curse me! Please!" Igor all but screamed before pressing his face into Ivan's back yet again and sobbing.

"..." Arthur's left eye twitched. "..." Then, he walked away. Walked past Marius and Lukas on the floor, and soon past Ivan and Igor. Igor sniffled loudly at this as he kept letting out hiccupping sobs.

"Where are you going?" Francis asked when Arthur just kept going.

"To get a drink and when I come back—" Then in one quick flick of his wrist, his magic shot out, wrapping around Igor's torso like a rope. Arthur turned and started to drag a wailing Igor inch by inch towards him. "—You are going to tell me everything I want to know, you whining little titch." Then with one mighty pull, Igor and Arthur were literally nose to nose. Arthur narrowed his eyes as he stared a sobbing Igor down. Igor's whole body trembled as he pitifully cried. "Understood?"

"Yes! Yes, Oliver sir!"

Arthur threw Igor down to the floor. Igor landed on his butt and rubbed at his back from the rough landed. "My name is Arthur."

"Yes! Arthur sir!"

Arthur looked at Ivan for a second. "I take it you'll watch him?"

"Gladly!"

"Good." and Arthur would leave, unsure how to feel about their newest member.

Notes:

I love Igor. I was honestly surprised that Igor is not 2p Ivan's name by the fandom? That was shocking. I thought it as a perfect name for him in my 2p version.

Now some of you may be upset with this version of 2p Russia, but honestly? I think it fits him given how my 2p's are. I love the crybaby.

but that being said, to put you all at ease. Igor is the LAST to join Arthur's party. Nobody else from here on out. So, to recap. On Arthur's side we have

Arthur, Lukas, Marius, Ludwig, Liam, Wendy (eh, Kinda she's just there), and Alfred. (These are the OG's that started at the party) added on to them is: Francis, Lovino, Antonio, Gilbert, Berwald, Andersen, Sven (like Wy, he's more just there, but he should, hopefully, have a moment later on), Kiku, Yao, Ivan and finally Igor.

18 whole people. That's a lot of people. Let's see if I can remember they all exist by the end lmao!

Chapter 12: Goodnight

Getting to Switzerland was relatively easy all things considered. Feliciano was more surprised that passports weren't needed to cross the boarder, not that he was complaining because he didn't have his passport.

The land was untouched by the war and just as Feliciano remembered from the last time he personally went to go and see Switzerland in his own world. They drove by fields of green and lakes so blue it felt surreal. "Wow..." He heard Leon say as the man leaned out of the window to look at the view for himself.

"You had no clue?" Feliciano would ask. "That it was like this, I mean."

"I know how Switzerland can be. I've haven't been out of Italy in fifty years. Luciano just doesn't allow it, sure, I've been to places, but never here. Never this close to my own land. So, to see a landscape this beautiful for myself after seeing nothing but war torn landscapes...it's nice." He leaned so far out of the window that the wind whipped his blonde hair back.

Feliciano watched him for a moment before feeling himself frown and then focusing on the road. "We're coming up to a town." He told Leon as the man brought his head back into the car to look at Feliciano. His blonde hair was now wild and all over the place. When he smiled at Feliciano, Feliciano saw that he was missing a tooth. This was something he hadn't caught on before, because it wasn't a front tooth, but a molar. it made Feliciano wonder how such a thing happened. Still, he didn't think about it too hard. "I say we ditch the spyder, ditch these clothes, maybe get us a few disguises, and stop at a hostel or hotel—"

It had happened out of nowhere, one moment Feliciano was driving and talking, the next the car's front tire wobbled something fierce then the steering wheel jerked to the right violently, forcing Feliciano to stomp on the break. This was the exact wrong thing to do as the car twisted to it's side on the narrow dirt road, the sudden stomp on the break caused it to spin out of control before it went off of the road. The issue? They were on a bluff when this happened. For a moment Feliciano felt completely weightless as the car started to move in the air. He lifted from his seat, the seatbelt catching his collarbone.

Feliciano let out a scream when he saw the grass from the windshield and it was coming up to meet him—

Feliciano was laying with his head in Ludwig's lap. The two of them sitting next to a field of blue bachelor buttons. Their picnic packed up as they had finished some time ago. Feliciano hummed as he made a crown out of the floors and Ludwig was running his hand through Feliciano's hair absentmindedly. The two of them just enjoying each other company as they had for decades— no centuries— now. Feliciano craned his head up to look at Ludwig and showed the man his flower crown. "Those are my national flowers you know." Ludwig chuckled.

"I know. That's why I made it for you" Feliciano said with a chuckle. Well, to his surprise Ludwig would dip his head down allowing Feliciano to awkwardly lift his arms up to put the crown on Ludwig's head. "There! It was made for you!" Feliciano teased with a chuckle.

"You tell anyone, I'm going to deny it. and nobody will believe you." Ludwig said making Feliciano giggle behind his hands.

"Understandable. Besides, I'm too lazy to get my phone, so, it'll just remain between the two of us." He said to Ludwig as he would relax and open his eyes. He shifted a little so he was just a little more comfortable.

Ludwig reached down and his fingers would not only graze Feliciano's, but they would stop at the wedding band that was on his finger. A proposal he had just done the day before. It hadn't been his first, everyone who was anyone knew of Ludwig's first proposal and what a disaster that was. He waited, they both had, and after, literal decades, he tried again and this time Feliciano was more than happy to say yes. "Are you sure you want to go to England's birthday next week?" Ludwig asked. "People could see the ring and ask, you could steal the light from Arthur."

"It'll be fine. Besides, I don't think anyone will notice. Not that I think there'd be many people there anyways. You know Arthur is rather...erm..."

"Unpopular?"

"A nice way of saying it, yes. I don't think it's going to be anything like Alfred's birthday or even Francis's. It'll just be a small crowd. And that's kinda sad. So, yes, I do want to go."

"I was thinking, if it's not too much, maybe I'll come with you. I feel bad leaving my fiancé to endure Arthur's cooking alone."

Feliciano looked up at Ludwig and smiled. "Only if you want to."

"Yeah, It'll be like an adventure."

Feliciano let out a painful gasp. He tasted blood on his tongue as he inhaled shakily and put his hand to his chest. "Wh—" He tried to speak, but found himself either tongue tied or just unable to get the words out in general. He clutched at his chest with his right hand and stared up at the bright blue sky in front of him. He realized fairly quickly he was on his back in the grass and not in the car.

"You were lucky," A new, but also familiar voice greeted him. Feliciano tried to crane his neck towards the voice, but he felt a painful jolt down his neck that made him stop. Still, he was able to see who was talking to him. Switzerland stood off to the side. He was checking his Karabiner K31. Checking the inside of the barrel. Once he checked the inside of it he would shut the barrel with a 'snap' and turn to face Feliciano. "If you didn't have your seatbelt on, you would have gone through the windshield without a doubt. Pity. I was banking on watching you break your neck."

He didn't look like the Switzerland Feliciano knew however. There were still some major differences. For starters, his hair. It wasn't the longish blonde hair Feliciano was used to, but rather cut into a crew cut. He was also wearing a cameo uniform with big lace-up boots. On his head was a red beret. In his mouth was a cigar. He then crouched down and narrowed his mint green eyes at Feliciano. "So, Luciano, what makes you think you can come into my land unwanted and unwarranted with your little lap dog?" Switzerland asked as he took the cigar out of his mouth.

"N—Not Luciano..." Feliciano winced at the pain that was starting to radiate from his neck. "Fe—Feliciano."

"You think I care that you changed your name?" Switzerland demanded while he stood above Feliciano and held his gun in both hands. Not using it, not yet. "I know that car when I see it, I know your face, and I know that idiot you associate yourself with. You seem like Luciano to me."

"Never been Luciano—Tch!" Feliciano recoiled when he tried to move his neck but got a shooting pain down his whole spine in response. "Ch—Check my wallet. I don't—I don't belong here. Oliver brought me here. I'm trying to get back home."

Switzerland stared at him for a few moments. His eyes remaining emotionless. Then he would crouch down and grabbed Feliciano's left hand more specifically at the golden band around his ring finger. "Hm." He grunted as he put Feliciano's hand down. "Now, I could have shot you in the face, but I went for your tire instead. As mentioned, I was hoping to see you go out the window and break your neck, but that's not what happened." Switzerland would say. "I suppose, however, you do have a point in that you may not be Luciano." and he put the gun over his shoulders. "For starters, Luciano isn't dumb enough to just drive in here. Anyone with a brain knows that I may be a neutral country, but I'm not a dumb country. I don't play when it comes to my borders especially to the likes of you and your lap dog." He snarled. "So. Let's say I believe you, let's say you aren't Luciano, what made you think you could come into my lands?"

"—" Feliciano felt sickness crawl up his throat. "We...We're trying to get to England. As mentioned, I want to get to Oliver so I can go home."

"Oliver," Switzerland snarled as he stood up. "I have a few things I like to say to Oliver." He chewed on the end of his cigar. Then looked at Feliciano again. "So, not Luciano, if you are going to Oliver that seems like you're just more trouble then you're worth. Why should I bring you into my lands? Why not just leave you here for the birds and bugs to eat?"

Feliciano looked at Switzerland the best he could before looking back at the bright blue sky. "You didn't shoot me in the head because doing so would break neutrality—if I was Luciano.— So you went for the tire in hopes that I died. This way you could frame it as an accident if anything else. He's a fast driver on a narrow and steep road, anything could happen. Am I right?"

Switzerland just stared at him and didn't give an answer.

"You stopped being neutral the moment you started shooting at tires. You can't actively be involved with conflicting countries, so you sit and wait at the border hoping to take that shot at their tires that'll kill them for you. That tells me you want to be involved, but can't. If I had to guess, it's Liechtenstein keeping you from taking that plunge into joining the others in an war. Am I right?" Feliciano asked.

Switzerland stopped chewing on his cigar as he stared at Feliciano for a long moment.

"You don't need to say it. I can tell by your face I'm right. " Feliciano let out a cough suddenly that made his whole body a light with pain. Namely from his ribs.

"..." Switzerland looked surprised as he stood up and stared at Feliciano.

"Where I'm from. My Switzerland, Basch, he takes neutrality very seriously. So seriously that, funny enough, he might punch you for doing something so...not neutral." Feliciano would dare to chuckle and that sent another jarring pain to his ribs. "That being said: You're neutral and you have every right to just turn around and not take us in. It was my fault the tire got blown anyways. Leon warned me you were gun crazy. I should have guessed you'd want to protect your boarders. Protect Liechtenstein as much as you possibly could. I just thought you were more like Basch, I let my guard down and because of that...Well... You know. But I can't blame you for any of it. If I were in your shoes, I'd be doing everything I can to protect Elise from this cruel world. I mean: Liechtenstein. So, the most I can say is...Do what you must."

"..."

Switzerland stared at Feliciano for a second or two. Then he pointed at Feliciano. "Well, I know you are Luciano by that alone. He'd usually be yelling and cursing up until the very end. It's nice to have someone actually act like an adult. Don't make me regret this." Switzerland leaned down suddenly and with no effort at all he hoisted Feliciano up and fireman carried him. Feliciano immediately let out a gasp of pain as this agitated his ribs something fierce. "Ow" Feliciano whimpered.

"Suck it up."

"What about Leon?" Feliciano mumbled and rested his head on Switzerland's shoulder. His head bounced with every movement. This didn't help his achy ribs either.

"I had him taken first. Couldn't have your lap dog turning into a guard dog, could I?"

"But he is alive?"

"Unfortunately. I shouldn't have to say this to you, but it will be said. If you are tricking me and you so much as look at Klara the wrong way, Neutrality be damned. I will put a bullet in your skull."

"I won't. You have my word."

"Good."

"...Can I have your name?" Feliciano would weakly ask after a rather tense moment of silence between the two of them.

"My name? You already know me as my country, isn't that enough for you?"

"Yeah, well, I know two Switzerland's, it tends to get confusing. Plus, I can at least know you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, the you that's not just Switzerland."

"Hmph." He would grunt. "You can call me Raphael, if you must."

"That's a nice name."

and Raphael would blush at the compliment, his ears turning red. "Whatever, pass out already."

And surprisingly, Raphael didn't need to tell Feliciano twice. To be fair; he hadn't slept in god knows how long. Sleep/passing out was inevitable.

---

For Tino the drive couldn't last long. They made it from Sweden and into Denmark, but they couldn't go any further than that when he physically had to stop. I'm sorry. He would sign as he then took his hands away to rub at his tired and itchy eyes. I don't know how long I've been awake up until this point and it's taking a toll. I need to rest. He would tell Esbjørn, well sign to Esbjørn once he was done rubbing at his eyes.

Understandable. You look like you're ready to drop. Do you want me to drive? Esbjørn would sign back once Tino looked at him.

Tino now had to weigh out all his options at this very moment. Trust Esbjørn to drive while he slept and was arguably at his most vulnerable around the man, or come up with some other plan.

You have to understand why I'm wary. Tino would sign the very truth to Esbjørn moments later.

I understand. If I were in your shoes, I'd be wary. Esbjørn would sign right back. But you can't do anything if you're sleep deprived. You need rest.

Tino inhaled sharply and rested his head on the steering wheel. He would swallow hard before looking at Esbjørn with tired and wary eyes. "Okay." he would say out loud breathlessly as he allowed himself to let his guard down. Okay. he would then sign and just like that he got out of the driver's side. Esbjørn would quickly switch sides with Tino. Tino got into the passenger side and he heard Hugo shift in the back seat of the car. How much farther until we're out of Denmark? Tino signed and Esbjørn buckled himself in while Tino moved the seat all the down.

Hugo took this moment to awkwardly climb from the back into Tino's seat. Tino didn't mind as the dog wasn't that heavy, a thing he was slowly working on, and besides' Hugo was nice and warm. like a breathing blanket. Hugo laid himself down so he was literally on top of Tino and his head rested on Tino's chest.

Shouldn't be too much longer, Esbjørn would sign back. We're coming up to the border in a few hours. Esbjørn looked at Tino quickly. Tino looked at that bad eye of Esbjørn's and tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention again.

Are you good to drive? He would sign to the other. With that eye and all.

I don't like to drive, if I can be honest, but I can drive. I just have to be extra vigilant.

Tino rested in his seat and put his arm under his head like a pillow. Hugo would let out a loud sigh, his breath hot as it seeped through Tino's shirt. Tino let his mind pause, to think about what he really wanted. Of course he wanted to rest, but he really didn't want to put unneeded stress on Esbjørn either. "Tell you what—" Then Tino sighed and rubbed his eyes when he realized what he was trying to do. He would then tap Esbjørn with the back of his hand to get the man's attention and Tino tried again, taking his arm out from under his head. *Let's make it simple. Just drive us to the nearest Truck stop. We'll both rest there.

Is that wise? We're still in Dainsleif's territory here. Esbjørn would quickly sign back. I can drive. He tried to reassure Tino. Rest. Besides crossing the border we're likely to meet Henrich and he may not let us through without a fight.

Henrich? Is that Germany? Tino was already coming up with a potential way to maybe ease the man down, not that it could work given how messed up this world was.

No. Prussia.

Tino narrowed his eyes at this as his mind worked quickly to try and redirect his plan. 'I don't know what this Prussia is like.' He thought to himself as he rubbed at his chin and his eyes started to droop. He quickly shook himself back awake. He felt like he had to stay up now.

Tino wanted to argue, tried to argue but when he looked into Esbjørn's good eye all argument died. Fine. Tino would relent before too long. He would then rest a hand on Hugo's head. Petting the dog between the ears. Hugo shut his eyes before mleming his tongue a few times to show he wasn't moving any time soon. Tino didn't want to admit how much in that very moment Esbjørn looked almost strikingly close to Berwald with just a single no nonsense look.

Tino looked at the wedding band on his finger. It was warn and tarnished with age. 'How much time has passed over there? Does Berwald even know what happened to me and the others?' Tino wondered as he twirled his ring.

Tino would then let his hand rest as he relaxed the best he truly could. It wouldn't take long for Tino's exhaustion to completely take over as once the car was moving again. The sound of the tires on the road and the dull hum of the engine made his eyes start to close on their own. He allowed himself to relax and drift into a, surprisingly, easy sleep.

That being said, just because it was an easy sleep, didn't mean it was a heavy sleep. Every bump in the road, every noise that felt slightly off and Tino was awake for a few seconds. He would scan the area before deciding it was safe and would allow his eyes to rest again.

"Papa!" Peter ran around Berwald and pulled on Berwald's sleeve, wanting his adoptive father's attention. "Hide me!" Berwald put a hand on on Peter's head and ruffled his blonde hair. Tino entered the room only seconds later, already hearing the quick patter of Peter's feet against the hard wood floor.

*"Peter, what did I say about running around the house?" Tino gave Peter a tug on the ear once close enough. "Now please, go get your shoes on, we have to leave if we want to catch our plane on time."

That earned a pout from Peter. "Do we have to go to England's birthday? I can just send him a card, it would mean the same." Peter tried to talk Tino out of it, the same he's been trying all week to talk Tino out of it.

"Peter, we discussed this, at length. Please stop procrastinating."

Peter let out a groan as he threw his head back, but would do what Tino asked of him. Tino shook his head as he approached Berwald. "What are we going to do with that boy?"

"Leave him at Arthur's?" Berwald joked and Tino gently slapped his husband's stomach with the back of his hand.

"Not funny, Berwald." Tino said—

—Tino would feel a hand touch his cheek and he leaned into the touch briefly as it felt familiar, but the hands were cold and just a little rougher than what he was used to. "Mph..." He would grunt half asleep. "Berwald..." He then tried to shoo his husband away, turning slightly in a way that his back was to the driver and he would comfortably fall back into a much needed rest.

---

"Hey—"

Matthew didn't just snort awake, on instinct, he threw a punch as whoever was touching him. James, who had shook Matthew and thus caused this to happen, was surprisingly quick and dodged the fist aiming for his face. "—Easy!" James had yelped during his jerk back, his glasses sliding down his nose.

"Tabarnak." Matthew sleepily grumbled as he would move the seat into the up right position. He then rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry. You startled me."

"Yeah, no shit," James rubbed at the back of his head. "Look, we're going to stop here to rest for the night." James then pointed out the truck window to see a hotel. "Once we get settled, I'll tell you my plan for tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me," Matthew stretched his arms above his head. "It feels like it's been so much longer than a single day." He grumbled as he then rubbed at his eyes before opening the door and getting out. Bernadette, who was in the backseat, jumped from the backseat and out of Matthew's open door. Once Bernadette was out, Matthew shut the door and walked around the car to keep in step with James.

"Just let me do the talking," James instructed as they both walked towards the building.

"Why? Are the hotel staff evil too?" Matthew couldn't help but joke, it was clearly a joke that James didn't find any humor in because he just stared at Matthew from over his sunglasses. Matthew would yawn again. "Sorry."

"Regardless, no, just let me deal with this. People, they're wary. Even when it comes to their job. They're jumpy and scared with every right to be," He warned Matthew and Matthew honestly believed every word.

So, they would get inside the room, with Bernadette, the literal wolf, trailing behind them. The man at the counter looked at them and his eyes went to Bernadette pretty quickly. "Bernie, heel." James ordered as he patted his leg and Bernadette did so, sitting down obediently by his side as he approached the counter. "We'd like a room for the night, I was told you accept animals?"

"Uh—Y—yes, usually dogs and cats, not...wolves." The man would say as he nervously tapped his fingers together.

"Hybrid." James said. "Half wolf, half husky."

"Sir...I know my animals, that is clearly a wolf—"

and James put his arm on the counter and leaned in just a bit more closer to the man. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Matthew watched this all go down with increasing interesting. Bernadette, on the other hand, started to scratch at her ear with her hind leg while this all went down.

Then, the man would relent. "You know what? I don't get paid enough. Sure. A room for two with a dog." He said as he started to type away.

"Thank you." James would back off.

They were promptly given their keys and the trio would go up the elevator to their room. Once inside the room, Matthew made a bee line for one of the two beds and promptly landed face down on it. He then laid there, relishing in the coldness of the sheets and the softness of the bed.

Bernadette put both of her paws on Matthew's bed—

"Don't even think about it." James would say and the wolf would back away with an irritated huff of breath. Matthew would lift his tired head up to watch her go and lay down off by the window. He then turned to James, who was now taking his shoes off. Something Matthew had yet to do. Matthew would, painstakingly, use what little energy he had to take his boots off and toss them away from him. "How's your foot?" James asked as he sat on his own bed and undid his hair from it's ponytail.

"Fine, the pain went away a while ago," Matthew said as he watched as James shook his head and his hair fell into place by his shoulders. At this, Matthew tilted his head as he looked at James's hair. His hair looked both tangled and lacked shine. It also looked dry.

Matthew was tired, running on fumes, so could he really be blamed for what he did next? He got up while James's back was to him. James was moving the duvet back, no doubt ready to lay down. Matthew reached out and the moment his hand touched James's scalp, the man tensed in a way Matthew had yet to see. His whole form bristled visibly and he didn't untense, if anything he became like a loaded spring when Matthew ran his fingers through his curls. Well, 'run his fingers through' was really code for 'tried to run his fingers through.' it was as he suspected. James's hair was insanely tangled. It felt dry, almost like hay against Matthew's fingers.

"What the fuck are you doing?" James would finally ask, his voice having an edge of caution and surprise to it.

"You don't take care of your hair." Matthew muttered rather monotone. "It's brittle, the ends are split, and your curls are close to matting." Matthew looked at a stray lock to see just how bad James's breakage was.

"Okay?!"

"What do you use to wash your hair?"

"I dunno? Some cheap 2-in-1? Why are you still touching me! Quit it!" and James started to jerk from side to side to get Matthew to release him. It worked and Matthew let him go.

"You should consider co-washing. At least for a while, it—" Matthew paused to yawn loudly, his jaw cracked at this and he swallowed hard. "—It'll help with the dryness and untangle your curls. Plus it'll give your hair a healthy shine."

James looked at him incredulously, his jaw slightly dropped, and the cogs in his head turning. "Go to bed before I knock your teeth out." He would grunt.

"I can help you co-wash if you don't know how, Papa showed Alfred and I—" and Matthew was met with a pillow to the face.

"Go to bed!"

It was pretty awkward after that. With the two of them crawling into their respective beds and laying down. Honestly, Matthew was ready to black out and let sleep take him the moment the lamp was turned off.

He heard James toss around, sounding like a rotisserie chicken with how many times he would twist and turn in his bed. Before his cover would be tossed and very quickly the man was standing over Matthew, the lamp light back on. It made Matthew squint against the brightness of the lamp before looking at James.

"What the hell is co-washing, exactly?" James would ask, his face slightly pink.

Matthew pinched between his eyes, blinked and looked at James. "You weren't taught how to co-wash your hair?" he asked, his voice sounding heavy.

"Do you even have to ask?"

"Fair enough..."

and somehow, someway, by some miracle, that would lead to Matthew and James sitting on the bathroom floor of the hotel. Matthew lightly running conditioner through James's scalp and down his curls. James, at first, was like a loaded spring, ready to bounce and flee, but he would eventually relax, though he was still uneasy and looked ready to bolt.

"2-in-1 isn't even good for straight hair, let alone people like us with curls..." Matthew would say with a big yawn.

"I can't believe we're doing this like a couple of girls." James would mutter.

"It's good to take care of your hair. Besides, I'm used to helping with hair. Like I said, Papa taught me how to co-wash and I would—" Another yawn. "—I would help Alfred co-wash his hair when we were younger. Before he decided to just stay short to not have to deal with his curls."

"Hm. Must have been nice..." James muttered softly. "Anyways, why don't you just grow your hair out?"

"I thought about it a few times. I like my hair the way it is now. It's just long enough to show the difference between Alfred and I, but it's not so long I shed and get hair everywhere.—There." and Matthew pulled away. James's curls were no longer tangled and his hair thick and saturated with conditioner already making his curls stand out. "Leave that in for about five minutes before washing it out. I'm going to bed now." Matthew would stand up. "If your hair still feels greasy, just do it one more time. Like applying a 2-in-1."

"Uh... got it." James muttered softly.

"Goodnight, James," Matthew turned towards the door, stopped and looked over his shoulder at James. "Also, self-care isn't girly. Don't let anyone tell you that you should suffer or damage yourself because how they think it to be." Then he left out of the bathroom.

Matthew would crawl into bed, face down against the pillow. Through itchy and half lidded eyes he looked at Bernadette. The wolf was very much awake, her eyes on his. When she knew she had his attention that tail of hers thumped against the ground. A silent plea.

Matthew looked over at the bathroom door that was shut and then he opened his duvet up. "C'mon." He patted his mattress. Bernadette didn't need to be told twice. She hopped into his bed and he covered her up with the blanket so she couldn't be easily seen. He then flicked the lamp off, finally ready to get some sleep.

---

Peter was staring out the window. At the freedom that was just inches away, but he couldn't obtain. The house was quiet as the night had long since engulfed the outside. He hadn't had dinner, which was fine, he didn't want dinner after learning what Nathan went through. Nathan still didn't trust him as the other was sleeping somewhere in their shared room.

Peter looked out at the moon and rested his head against his arm. He was laying on the floor and wishing to be anywhere but here. "They'll come." He whispered hopefully.

The moon was outside his window, it was big, beautiful, silver, and taunting all in one. Tears were in Peter's eyes as he sniffled and then wiped at his stinging eyes with his knuckle. He said to the moon. "I'll be here, waiting for you all, then we can go home and wish Arthur a proper happy birthday." He sighed and sniffled as he tried to hold back his hiccups. "Goodnight." Peter would then stand and go and lay down. Tomorrow was a new day. Hopefully a better day.

Notes:

I'm sorry if this isn't the chapter you wanted, but I felt we all needed a little breather before hoping right back into the chaos.

Also, yes, this IS the first time all of those brought to the 2p world get to sleep for the first time.

Head canon time: Alfred has the same curly/wavy hair as Francis and Matthew, but he HATES taking care of it. So, he decided long ago to keep it short. Easier to care for.

Also, don't expect all four parties to show up in a single chapter all the time. I could hardly bring myself to write them all in this chapter lol. I nearly deleted Tino's part.

Notes:

Please review! They make me so happy!