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Chapter Text

Their people are dying, their lands are being poisoned, their oceans are turning into  several deathly shades of black and their animals are being driven into extinction.

Those creatures came unexpectedly, in large swarms, eating and killing everything that came into their paths. Nobody was—is—ready to fight them. They are all ferocious, monstrous and indestructible that not even the miracle of science could bear any solution on how to stop and later, exterminate them.

Despite the hundreds of wars they'd survived, the plagues, the famines and droughts, they've never felt so helpless before. 

For the very first time ever, they are experiencing a war they can't ever hope to win.

Until one day.

They find him in the basement of his very old mansion in York, the book of forbidden magic in the left hand and a dark gemstone the size of an infant's fist on the right one. He is wearing a forest-green cloak that obscures his face. He is standing in the middle of a drawn pentagram inside a circle and with weird numerous scribblings decorating the already ominous symbol. 

The basement is dark; several candles lit with green fires are the only source of illumination in the room, casting an eerie glow around the room. The man is murmuring some unintelligible chant under his breath, the breathy sound sending shivers down their spines. In another time, another day, another situation, one of them would crack a joke about how the room looks similar to the settings of several cheap Hollywood horror movies. Right now, however, all of them feel so nervous, so scared and so high-strung that one suspicious small sound could send the only South-Eastern nation in the place into tears.

"I'm scared," she moans and hugs herself, tremors racking her petite frame under her blue thick coat. 

Wordlessly, the only other Asian representatively took her left hand, which feels cold, and wrapped it in his. "I know, Dolores, but you know we must do this. In order to protect our people...to protect everyone..." he intoned, stoically. Behind his poker face, however, lies a deep trepidation about their dubious mission. Will they succeed and drive out the monsters that are currently running rampant in their lands, or will they just die in vain? But he decides to hide his misgiving, which will accomplish nothing in their current situation.

Dolores bites her lip, her dark eyes showing her doubt, but she nods and her trembling eases up a little. Before the monsters has attacked her country and killed the 24% of her population, she was always cheerful and smiling, the ever optimistic and happy woman who never gave up, despite all the odds stacked up against her. 

She used to be always full of life and youthful vitality, but now she looks much older and her face worn. 

He understands; his own soul has a large aching gap on it, too, where the majority of his population used to occupy. Used to.

Only, he misses her beautiful smile.

"Thank you, Leon," she says, sincerely. She tries to smile, but the tiny smile that graces her pink lips is more like a grimace. 

She turns to her right, where the petite blond and green-eyed girl, the only other female representative in the room, stands with her head bowed down and her gloved hands clutching the pink fabric of her skirt. "Erika, take my other hand. I'm here," she coaxes, softly. 

Erika lifts her small head, and Dolores' heart clenches at the sight of the girl's crystal tears. "I want to see big brother," she whispers. " But I can't. I know that I have to be strong to protect him but I am scared. What do I do, Miss Dolores?" 

Dolores' tears well up in sympathy but she wills them away. "I know, I'm scared too, but we need to be strong right now. This is the only way for our people...for the others to survive. Just hold my hand, okay? I'll be with you to the end."

Erika doesn't answer. She bows her head again but she  clings to Dolores' arm, seeking comfort that she isn't sure she can give.

"Is that bastard over there finish yet?" drawled a bored-looking,  brown-haired and dark-skinned young man. He has his hands in his pockets and his body is leaning on the wall next to the door, earning a nasty glare from the tall Nordic country standing the closest to him. 

Henrique ignores it. "If I had known that it would take him this long to set up the spell then I would have brought booze. We're all going to die anyway so why not have a little bit of fun before that?" he explained, flashing them a charming smile.

The Iberian nation is promptly ignored by everyone.

Finally, the man in the green cloak finishes all his preparations. He turns to all of them and wordlessly, beckons them with the hand holding the forbidden book to enter the circle. 

Suddenly, Leon feels like his nerves are about to snap with the tension he has been feeling since he entered the room with the others. He can feel the panic rising inside his chest and the bile in his throat. He is afraid, he realizes. Afraid to die and to leave behind his people and everyone he loves.

But he needs to do this. Hasn't he already agreed to sacrifice himself so the others could survive after thinking about the matter for three weeks? His knees shaking, he begins to walk towards the circle and him, the person whom he trusts with all his heart. Didn't they spend three weeks preparing for this day, knowing full well that there's no going back at all?

One by one, the eight of them enter the circle, all shaking yet also determined. Following their de facto leader’s instruction, they stand in a circular position, holding each other's hands. They close their eyes and bow their heads. A hush falls upon them, only to be broken by the harsh whispers of their leader, in the language that he finally recognizes as the Old Latin. 

As if on command, the pentagram inside the circle glows, warm and purple. The chanting becomes louder, stronger, until the ominous purple light becomes brighter, engulfing the nine bodies in the circle.

He doesn't know what made him do it, he can't even explain why. But as the purple light is about to claim him, he lifts up his head and meets his eyes, emerald pools full of sorrow, regrets and deep-bone sadness.

That night, the whole world becomes witness to the sudden and unexpected extermination of the monsters that have been plaguing them for months; these monsters all die screeching and howling in pain as they all combust and shatter right in front of the people's eyes. 

And at the same moment, nine nations disappear from this earth, never to be seen ever again.

Chapter Text

"—land! —land, you're back!" a blonde toddler wearing a pink nightgown with a frilly red ribbon exclaimed, jumping from his chair and running towards the door where his —? was standing and carrying a big basket of strawberries. 

—land laughed, the sound was like music to the toddler. "Of course, I'm back! I promise you I'll be back before you miss me right, my little bun?" the young man at the door said, fondly. He put the basket down before picking the little boy and spun around, making the toddler giggled. 

Grinning mischievously, —land did it again and again until the toddler in his arms started to feel dizzy and asked him to stop with a resounding kiss on his left cheek. "—land, you big meanie, stop!" he pouted, threateningly, before kissing his —? on the cheek.

"Mercy! Mercy! I'll stop now so please don't maul the old me!" —land cried out, laughing with tears in his emerald eyes. He stopped spinning and walked towards the nearest, his body swaying a little and put the cutely pouting toddler down on it. As a show of his displeasure, the little boy puffed his squeezable cheeks and frowned in the way the adults would whenever they would disagree on stupid things that Alfred could never hope to understand at his age.

Smiling fondly, his —? knelt before him and took his tiny hand with his much larger ones. The adult's hands were as warm as his gaze. "Well, I'm here now, Alfred, what do you want us to do? Do you want to us to take a picnic outside? " 

Upon hearing the word 'picnic' Alfred's face brightened up. He nodded, vigorously. " I want to! I want to take a picnic with you, —land!" 

"Then it's settled! Oh, I bought three boxes of tea leaves with me. You love tea, don't you?"

"I do! I love tea! And scones! —land's scones!"

The elder blushed. Then his eyes became soft with deep fondness.

Wait—

That afternoon the two of them sat under an oak tree, eating scones, sandwiches and the fresh strawberries the elder brought with him and drinking tea.

Who—

Under the blue sky; the gentle breeze caressing their cheeks, the elder begun talking about his travels to the younger one, who listened with rapt attention while munching the scorched scone on his tiny hands. 

Wait—

The elder laughed. He reached for Alfred's head and began ruffling his ash-blond hair, fondly.

Who are you?

"I know, I know, brother, I'll be there on time. Jeez, you arrived late in a meeting once and now—okay, okay,  stop yelling at me. Don't worry, I'm serious. Love ya too, bro." 

He checks his briefcase once more to see if he didn't forget all the necessary papers that he will be bringing for the World Conference today and seeing that he already put everything inside, shuts the briefcase with a click and locks it.

Shaking his head, the ash-blond and bespectacled nation called the United States of America, Alfred F. Jones to his contemporaries, pushes the end call button of his mobile with a sigh. For some reason his brother Canada has become really bossy these last few weeks. Like a stern mother to her unruly child,  Matthew will nag, call out or even check on him in his home from time to time just to see if he has been eating right. Last week the other nation even visited him without calling him first. 

Alfred can only shake his head. Jeez , his brotherly is really a mother hen, just like that guy in his dreams—

A very painful, head-splitting sensation suddenly explodes on his temple and he almost blacks out. "Shit," he mutters, wincing. 

A man of average height; a small smile full of love. One moment singing softly to him, on another reading him a book. The scent of red roses linger on the air and Alfred felt like his chest was about to burst with a very pleasant emotion—

The pain in his head becomes stronger and he sees dark spots dancing in front of his eyes. With a cry he feels himself falling and falling until he knows nothing more.

Matthew is  worried. 

He has been calling his brother for exactly 30 minutes but Alfred is still yet to answer his calls.  Before him, all the assembled nations from around the world (except Italy, who is making a list of the ingredients of the pastas he has collected and no doubt going to cook for his and Germany's engagement party ) are watching him, impatience written clearly on their diverse features. 

Alfred is already one hour late to the World Conference. And he is supposed to be their host this time. Most of them are even starting to believe that he won't show up at all.

"I'm sorry, but he is still not answering my calls," he apologizes to the nations present, shooting all of them a helpless look. 

The reactions he get is varied: China snorts,  expression disdainful; Russia's smile is razor-sharp, a small storm brimming behind his child-like violet eyes; Germany looks irritated; Japan remains poker-faced though he thinks that he could glimpse some glimmer of concern there; for once Greece looks wide—awake and has a hand on Japan's elbow; Switzerland looks outright murderous and France looks heavily disappointed. The Nordics aren't showing anything, all four of them attached together at the hips in the farthest part of the table. The other Asians in the room are silent, eyes darting back and forth to the superpowers and Spain has already joined Italy in writing the list, the two seemingly unaware of the heavy tension that rose in the room after his apology. 

"A pity," a deeply accented voice rises through the suffocating silence. "And I came here hoping that I could talk to him about an important matter," Scotland drawls lazily,  taking a long drag from his tobacco pipe before blowing a large smoke to the air in front of him. Sitting next to him, Ireland is eyeing him and his pipe with disgust.

"I'm really sorry, Allistair," he apologizes again, feeling contrite," I reminded him two hours ago not to be late for this meeting and he promised me that he won't. I don't know what came to his mind at all that he decided to be late."

Scotland sighs and closes his eyes. That seems to be what Ireland was waiting for because he grabs the pipe from his brother's gloved hand and throws it to the nearest trash can in the room. Scotland regards his thieving brother with half-lidded eyes but Ireland just glares at him, daring him to say a word. 

Scotland isn't cowed. "That was my fourteenth pipe that you have thrown away this month, Éire ," he says, mildly. 

Ireland rolls his eyes. "And there will be fifteenth if you insist on bringing that shit near me, Alba ," he replies, vehemently. 

"Ginger health freak arseshole."

"Kilt-wearing block head."

The two brothers glare at each other for what seems to be a long moment before France approaches them and stands behind their seats, putting a hand on their shoulders. "Now, now, calm down, you two," he coaxes, like a kindergarten teacher trying to put an end to a fight between his students. His lips were twitching in amusement though.

Seating on the seat on Scotland's other side and literally forgotten by his older brothers, Northern Ireland sighs, expression long-suffering. 

"Ve~ ,what if something bad happened to America?" Italy says, looking up from his list. His amber eyes are dark and serious. 

Everyone in the room turns to look at him. 

Finding himself suddenly under the scrutiny of a hundred eyes, Italy squirms and fidgets on his seat. "Ve~ America has never been late like this in our meeting. He was always on time and the last time he was late it was only 30 minutes. Something must have gone wrong in his house, ve~" he explains, worriedly. 

"Y—you're right, Feliciano. America has never been like this. He would have called one of us or just Canada if he's not going to show up," Germany says, rubbing his head. Matthew couldn't help but notice the dark bags under his bright blue eyes. 

Matthew feels a pit in his stomach. What if Italy is right? What if something bad really happened to his brother? What should he do?

Russia, who has  just been quietly watching everyone a few minutes ago, smiles sinisterly. "Then why do we put this meeting on hold and visit America in his house, da?" he suggests, beaming. The Baltic nations sitting near him all shudder; Estonia slowly leans back.

Several nations, including Canada, are on board with the idea. 

Meanwhile, unnoticed by everyone, Norway's eyes narrow perceptively.

America feels like his body is underwater, his movement is sluggish. He can smell the strong smell of disinfectant and clean sheets.  He groans.

"Oh, good, you're awake. You don't how nervous you made me and the others feel when we saw you passed out on the floor of your house. So we brought you here in this hospital," said someone whose voice he can't recognize through the foggy haze of his mind. The person's voice is hoarse, full of emotion. 

Gingerly, he tries to open his eyes and is met with the relieved face of the French nation he knows so well. 

"You really made us worried for you, mon chéri, especially poor Matthieu. He still hasn't slept since we found you. He's outside with  little Italie and Allemagne waiting for you to wake up. But enough of that. Is there anything that you want, my boy?"

"Water," he croaks, his mind still not registering what the older nation was telling him.  

France hands him the glass of water standing on the table by his bedside and stays silent as he gulps all the contents in one go. 

"Thanks," he says. He feels so tired.

"You're welcome, my boy. So mind telling me why we found you passed out in the middle of your living room?" France asks, blue eyes searching the younger nation's face.

He doesn't know why, but the gentleness of the older man's tone makes his tears well up. "I'm not really sure but have you ever felt like there is someone missing in you  but no matter how much you try to remember them, you couldn't and your head would hurt so bad?"

France's handsome face becomes haunted. He smiles, sadly. "I do."

"Hey, come back here!" 

Huffing, France continued to chase after the smaller and bedraggled nation in the middle of the lively forest. This is the third time the young French nation had tried to approach the other but once again, he had been rejected. But why? France just wanted to be his big brother! 

"Go away!" —? cried out, looking back just to glare at him. Oh, he's so dirty! And look at those eyebrows! Like big caterpillars making a home on his face! Not cute! 

"Don't be afraid, I just want to be your friend!"

"Leave me alone, you lady—boy!" 

He wasn't only uncute, but also rude! France puffed his cheeks in irritation.......

......But wait, who was that little boy? Why couldn't he remember his name?

Chapter Text

While waiting in the hospital's lobby for America to wake, two nations are having a hushed conversation between the two of them, the larger man having his arms around the smaller one.

"Ve~, Germany, do you think that America will be alright?" the representative of the country of North Italy asks his lover, bright and clear amber eyes brimming with unshed tears. He sobs. 

"Don't worry, Italia, Alfred is strong. Don't forget that he's a superpower. He will surely be fine," he says soothingly.

Neither say a word, but both of them think of the moment where they found America passed out in the middle of his living room with his own blood tickling on his forehead. North Italy shudders with a whimper while Germany tightens his hold on the other. 

North Italy is afraid. He knows that he shouldn't be, that it is useless to worry about the bespectacled boy when he is currently one of the leading countries in the world. So where does this almost crippling fear come from? The fear that started after he and the others found America in his house unconcious? It is because of losing his grandpa or because of Holy Rome, who never came back to him despite promising to? Or is the fear born out of a recent loss? It feels like it. Whatever it is, he doesn't like it. It makes him afraid to lose Germany, Japan, Big Brother Spain and Big Brother France, too. 

He feels like he would die if he did.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Man up, you idiota!"

He screams and jumps out of Germany's arms, wide eyes darting around the room and looking absolutely terrified. Meanwhile, Germany is looking up at him, puzzled. "Italia?" 

Trembling from head to foot, he wipes the sweat from his brows. His pupils are blown wide. "D—don't worry, Germany, I—I thought that I heard someone calling me," he stammers. He doesn't recognize the voice and yet it left an aching longing in his heart.

Germany sighs. He stands up and puts his hands on the other's shoulders. " I think that you're just tired, Italia.  Let's go to your hotel room so you can rest. I'll call Francis to check on America later. Your health is more important, dear Italia, " he says, tone far warmer than it usually is.

Shaking his unshed tears away, Italy nods.

"I never expected that I would find you here, Norge ," Denmark greets, smirking, before he sits next to the other Nordic nation. The inside of the bar is dimly lit; soft ballads playing in the background and several couples swaying on the floor. The ambience is very romantic despite the smells of liquors and human sweat around them. 

"Is there anything I could give you?" the female red—head bartender asks the newcomer, flashing him a flirtatious smile. She is hot and exactly the Dane's type but Norway can see that his brother isn't even slightly interested. 

"Just a tall glass of beer, babe," Denmark replies, winking. The bartender giggles and turns around to prepare his order. 

Norway scowls down on his drink. This has been his fifth glass since entering the establishment a couple of hours ago and yet his body and mind stubbornly stays sober. He wants to get drunk, he needs to drunk, for that is the only way he can escape the guilty thoughts that has been chasing him ever since he and the group ( France, Italy, Germany, Canada, Japan,  Russia and Denmark ) that have gone to visit and fetch America lying motionless on the floor inside his home. 

He never once expected that the side-effect of that spell would be strong enough to knock out a very powerful nation like America.

And only because the young nation is starting to remember. Norway saw the signs on his face.

The same signs that he has seen on another one of his brother's face two hours ago before he bid him farewell.

"By the way, how's Tino?" he asks before his guilt could overwhelm him.

"He's already sleeping in his room in that hotel we all rented for the week. Said something about a headache killing him."

It's your fault, you know .

' Shut up, shut up.'

" Norge, is there anything that you're not telling me? Something that has been bugging you?" Denmark asks, expression suddenly serious.

A bile rises in his throat. "No."

"Are you sure? Whatever it is, I will to help you and you know that. You can count on me."

The laugh that escapes his throat is bitter. "Sure, Den. Like you've been there when my people were dying one by one back then , right?"

He immediately regrets that sentence.

Denmark pales alarmingly at his words. "It's...it's not like—" 

Norway bites his lips. He shakes his head. "No, no . Look, Den, I'm sorry! I shouldn't have said that!" he cries out.

Denmark runs a hand on his face, looking visibly distraught. "No, no. You're right. I wanted to go to your house, to Emil's and Tino's. I swear I did! But my boss locked me up inside my house and forbade me from leaving and I'm...I'm sorry ."

He swallows back a sob. The memories from 30 years ago are still fresh in his mind. He remembers laying down in his bed, his body hurting all over, not being able to move, not being able to go out of his house ans help his boss and his people. He remembers wanting to see Matthias, Emil and Tino and remembers someone else visiting him and feeling his weight on his bed where he sat beside him. He remembers his deep soothing voice telling him to rest and promising:

"Don't worry, Lukas. I'll take care of everything." 

And  how he had slept peacefully right after, the left—over warmth of his hand on his shoulder a comfort through the excruciating pain of his country falling apart around him.

If he had known what that person was planning to do, then he would have forced himself to rise from his bed and stop him.

But it was already done. There is nothing he could do now but to shoulder the guilt and memories of his lost brother and friends.

The bartender comes back with Denmark's drink and hands it to the Dane without a word, her face solemn. She quickly turns around and moves herself to a distance, which Norway feels grateful for.

Denmark lets out a brittle laugh. " I've been such a terrible brother to you and Emil and Tino, haven't I? Not only to you three, but to the other one. The one that I failed to find."

Norway feels sick. 

"I couldn't even find Sverige . "

Tell him the truth.

He swallows. "It's not your fault, Matt. Isn't Sverige one of the 'Lost Representatives?' England is already a thousand years old and yet Allistair, Dylan, Seamus and Ian still haven't found it's representative. It's very common."

Liar, liar. You horrible liar.

'Shut up, shut up, shut up.'

Denmark just smirks but it doesn't reach his eyes, a clear sign that he doesn't believe a single word from his lips. He takes a swig of his beer.

He trusts you and yet you continue to keep the secret from him. Berwald is also his brother and he cares deeply for him despite their pasts. You are a terrible person, Lukas Bondevik.

'Shut the fuck up!'

 .

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

'I don't need you to tell me that...because I  already know it.'

'Arthur, Vladimir, Ber, what should I do? ' he thinks, despairingly.  

Chapter Text

With a heavy heart, Serena watches as the cruel and sadistic slave master flogs her best friend under the scorching hot summer sun inside the training yard of their master's large manor.  She couldn't understand the reason behind the harsh punishment. Axel has always been a good slave; he is hardworking, patient, diligent and is always quick to follow all of their master's orders, no matter how heavy or unfair the orders are.

Axel is a  good slave.  A perfect slave. 

So why is he being punished?  What has he done to deserve such cruel treatment?

'Ah,' she thinks, bitterly. 'Did Master lose plenty of money inside the gambling house again last night?'

Tearfully, she begins to pray under her breath, whispering pagan words that surely would have gotten her beaten or worse killed if someone other than Axel would have heard her, but at this point she can't bring herself to care. Her best friend, her kind—hearted and gentle best friend is being treated unfairly and knowing that no one would care to help him or the two of them at all, all she can turn to are their pagan gods of their home country, where the two of them have been violently taken from. 

With each sickening sound of the bullwhip hitting flesh, she feels her heart break more and more.

'Please, please, somebody save us from this place," she weeps.

After ten more minutes of hell, where Axel receives ten more lashes, the coarse—faced slave master beckons to her. His disgusting scent hits her nose the moment she reaches the two of them."Take him to his room with the others and tend to his injuries. We don't want lazy slaves in the Master's house. Ya hear me, little girl?" Alan growls, looking down at the bleeding boy with contempt that burns a fire inside her chest. 

She bites her tongue before she can say a word that she knows she will regret. "Yes, sir," she answers, focusing her eyes to the ground. 

Carefully as not to aggravate the bleeding and angry—red looking lacerations on his back, she put his right arm over her shoulder and gently helps him stand and slowly leads him towards the room that he currently shares with the other slave boys in the building next to manor. He is sweating all over his body and his greenish—blue eyes are clouded with pain. He is trembling. "Serena?" he mutters, confused, his deep voice hoarse. 

Serena wants to cry again. Axel is a stoic boy who has been forced to grow up fast just like her. He usually doesn't show weakness despite how hard his jobs in the manor are, something that their Master hates about him for some reason. For him to show this much vulnerability to her can only mean that he is extremely hurt. 

"I...I'm here," she mutters, for lack of anything to say. She can't comfort him, not now when her own heart is bleeding and her insides are in turmoil. She hates Alan, she hates their master and she fucking hates the heavens for abandoning the two of them when they needed it the most. 

Axel squints. She isn't sure what he saw on her face but his turquoise eyes (which she always admires and had often praised before) darkens considerably. "'m fine, Serena. Dun't cry," he says, as gentle as ever despite the terrible pain he is currently in. 

"They shouldn't have hurt you. You didn't even do anything wrong," she says, angrily.

Axel shifts his body so as to not burden her smaller form with his weight. But the movement only brings him more pain. "It's alright. Better me than you," he says, sadly.

"Oh, Axel," she whispers. He's already in great pain and yet he is still worrying for her more than himself.  She sobs. 

'I hate them. I hate them for abusing you! I hate them for  killing all the adults in our village and taking us children so they could sell us as slaves! I hate everyone in this place! I hate! I hate! I hate this world!'

'If only this world and everyone in it would just burn and die!' 

Unbeknown to her, at that moment, a small fire is lit inside of her. A tiny speck of ember that if continued to be left unchecked, could turn into an inferno that will consume everything around it.

"Good morning, Kiku," Herakles Karpusi, also known as the nation of Greece, greeted the island country who is also his lover. He is carrying a breakfast tray bearing a plate of eggs, sausages, toast and a glass of milk. Said island nation is sitting on the edge of his bed next to the bedside table and currently reading an English article in his laptop, hair mussed up from sleep and is still wearing his polka dots pajamas. 

'Cute.' Herakles thinks fondly. He walks towards the other man and places the tray next to his laptop. He peeks on the article and learns that it was about a violent riot that took place yesterday in the country called Philippines, an Eastern-Asian nation close to Kiku's. 

"This is the fifth riot in Manila this week," Kiku murmurs, apparently talking to himself and seemingly not noticing his lover standing next to him or the breakfast next to his laptop. He has a dazed expression on his face and if you looked closely, a bit of a heartache. He is also slightly trembling.

"Kiku, are you alright?" Herakles asks, putting his hands on the other's shoulders. That seems to have broken the island nation from whatever spell he is under. His face reverts back to its usual stoic state.

" Arigatou, Herakles—kun. I'm fine. Sorry for making you worried. And is this breakfast for me? I really appreciate it, my love, "Japan says, smiling a little. 

Thump, thump.

Herakles' face suddenly feels so hot. They have been dating for years but for Herakles, it feels like he was just falling in love with the other.

Then Japan's expression fell once more. He fidgets, which is something that the Greek nation has never seen the ever composed man do before. "I...Herakles-san, have you had a dream that you couldn't explain? Dreams about places, people and events that feel like your own memories but at the same time not at all?"

Herakles blinks, unsure. "Actually, yes. Before, I often saw my people's memories in my dreams." Those dreams have never once bugged him.

"But my dreams are different from yours, Herakles-kun. They don't feel like my people's memories at all. They feel like they belong to a person separated from my whole being. However, I could clearly see what she sees, hear her thoughts and feel what she feels as if I am living in her body in my dreams. I can feel her hate and frankly, it terrifies me because for a moment, it made me want to break something or someone. I wanted to make her pain go away. "

Japan's voice breaks. He couldn't tell Greece anything more even if he is his long-time lover. He couldn't tell him how, five hours ago, he woke up with his heart hammering loudly in his chest and how he quickly opened his laptop and searched for what was currently happening in one of his neighboring countries like a man possessed and crushed he was when he found how how many civilians have died in the most recent riot in Manila, his neighbor's capital.

He is sure that if Greece had not entered their shared room with a soft smile and tray of breakfast for him, Japan would have lost his mind.

The sheer anguish in the normally calm Eastern nation's voice prompts him to embrace the other, who begins to shiver inside his arms. 

"I don't understand," Japan cries out on his shoulders, gripping his sleeves.  "I don't even know who she is but I wanted to protect her. I wanted to save her from that place." 

The pain in his lover's voice makes him numb and he asks more out of curiosity and empathy than jealousy, "What's her name?"

Japan looks up to him, dark eyes wide with grief. "Serena. Her name's Serena, but I don't believe that is her real name."

"She's more like a lonely, beautiful pearl to me."

He's never ever going to get drunk ever again, Lukas vows as he rises from his bed at exactly 6 am. of the next day. His temple throbs, his vision is is still hazy from sleep and hangover and he feels like the contents of his stomach are currently doing acrobatic maneuvers as he blindly gropes for the door of the hotel room he is staying with his idiot brother, whose snores seem to have drowned out the angry banging on their door on his ears.

Or he'll just never drink with Denmark ever again. The other Nordic nation could chug down a barrel of beer and stay sober for hours while he couldn't even finish ten large bottles. The bet between the two of them have been rigged from the very start.

He also has a sneaking suspicion that his brother got the gorgeous bartender's number too while he was dying from stomach cramps right before the two of them left the bar at  exactly 11 pm.

For a second, he is tempted to make a short trip to the bathroom, grab a glass of water and splash it on Denmark's face to rouse the idiot up but decide against it. A sleep-deprived Denmark is one-thousand times more annoying than a normal Denmark, especially when he has just gone drinking the night before.

He winces as the banging on the door to their room becomes louder, making his headache worse and the urge to throw up his stomach becomes stronger.

'Whoever you are, you must have a really good reason to disturb me in this time of the day or you'll find yourself shitting blood for a week, ' he thinks, darkly.

Oblivious to the Northern nation's darkening mood, the loud bangs continue until Lukas unlocks the door and opens it. 

A pair of hands swiftly grab the collar of his blue sweater and before he could react, pushes his whole body to the wall next to the door. 

His surprised purple eyes are met with a pair of furious green ones swimming in unshed tears.

"You," Switzerland growls, looking very deadly in his frilly pink pajamas that sends a pang of nostalgia in Norway's chest. Despite his hangover, Norways knows that he could have easily pushed the other violent nation away, if not for the palpable sadness and grief emanating from his whole body.  "You bastard, where the hell did you take my sister ?"

Norway's stomach drops. 

Inside the apartment that he owns in New York but hasn't used more than two times, a red-haired and broad-shouldered young man regards the handkerchief in his hands with a sardonic smile. The handkerchief was hand-knitted and a bit worn out from age, yet obviously well-cared for. The Tudor rose design on the old piece of cloth is very lovely,  accurate and the colors show no signs of fading. 

He can remember only one person that could masterfully replicate the old insignia.

"You are a big fool, baby brother," he says, softly. "You are one big fool.

"Because if you really want me and our brothers to forget, then you shouldn't have left a piece of yourself for me or Dylan to accidentally find in one of your old castles.

"America is starting to remember now. France, too. And Ian is starting to suspect that the other European nations' memories are returning bit by bit through their dreams.

"Why didn't you ask any of us for help? Why did you have to erase our memories and make us believe that you and the other eight never existed? Why didn't you trust us, your brothers?

"Where are you, Arthur? "

Chapter Text

"Where is she?! Tell me where she is, damn you?!" the furious nation screams at his face, shaking him. Norway has no doubt that Vasch would shoot him if he was carrying one of his guns. 

Norway feels helpless. He knows that one day everyone will recover their memories of those nine nations that have sacrificed themselves to save the world from the horde of monsters that attacked them 30 years ago. They used the spell that he, together with Arthur and Vladimir, created using the most evil of all dark magic. The three of them have been desperate; they have already lost more than one third of their people and their siblings and friends were no doubt suffering as badly or worse than they were. 

It didn't take them long to find the right spell to kill the monsters and it also didn't take them long to find the other six willing to lay down their lives to pay the price of saving the world and their loved ones.

But in the end, he had abandoned them.

He was supposed to be one of the Nine. But he wasn't even there to help Arthur activate the spell.

And as his punishment, he decided to keep the secret and burden alone, despite the guilt and recriminations that are slowly driving him insane.

So Norway can understand what the other nation is feeling right now. The painful feeling of losing a beloved sibling.

Because of him. His sin .

He feels his mind cleared. Calmly yet firmly, he removes Vasch's fists from his collar and pushes him away from him. 

"My brother is still sleeping. I'll answer your questions but not here. Let's go to another place."

And instead of punching him like Norway expects, Vasch only nods, face pinched in agitation.

They silently enter a communal bathroom on the same floor of Norway and Denmark's room.  Though calm, Norway can feel his guilt rise again along with the demons whispering inside his mind, throwing insults at him and reminding him of how he had abandoned and betrayed both Arthur and Vladimir and of the lies he had told in the past 30 years. 

You should have been with them. They were all afraid. 

You're a coward.

Because of you Sweden is gone. And you lied about him to Denmark, Iceland and Finland. 

You knew that Finland loves Sweden and was about to confess to him but you erased all his precious memories of Sweden from his mind. You were the reason for his sadness for the past 30 years.

Coward.

Coward.

Liar.

You abandoned your friends. 

You abandoned your family.

Norway wants to rip scream, to rip his hair and to drown the voices again with beer, hangover be damned, but he knows that the already distraught nation with him won't appreciate it. 

Switzerland looks like he's trying his best to remain calm, looking everywhere but him. He lifts a hand and wipes away the tears that flowed down his cheeks. 

After a few silent minutes, his eyes are met with a flinty stare, green eyes asking questions that he is now ready to answer.

He inhales deeply, before beginning to explain everything that happened 30 years ago.

Xxxx

"Britain, I'm no longer your younger brother. From now on, consider me independent."

"What happened to you? I remember that you were great."

Gasping loudly, America sat on his bed, sweats dotting not only his face but the rest of his body. 

Who? What? When did that moment happen? He remembers his own uniform during the Revolutionary War and also the bright red coats of the British soldiers he had fought against  in the said war. But who was the British young man in that muddy field under the rain with him? And why did he call him Britain? That can't be possible. He doesn't remember the British Empire having a personification at all. Scotland had acted as the unofficial representative of the empire but everyone knew that it wasn't supposed to be him. And America would recognize the older nation's bright red hair anytime and anywhere. 

He thinks of that dream. Those bright green eyes darkened with sorrow and regret, thick eyebrows not unlike the Kirkland brothers and a handsome face that brought a powerful yearning inside his heart. Who is he? And why does the dream of him crying on his knees bring an unimaginable pain in his heart, as if it was about to be ripped into pieces? 

Was he, was he the representative of the British Empire and America killed him during the revolution? America remembered the words he had said in his dream, painful words that made the other man's face contorted with pain. Did he, by declaring a war, hurt someone special to him, someone who was like an older brother to him, before killing him? If he did, then why hadn't he remembered that person before this day? 

America feels that something is wrong. But what is it? Why couldn't he remember? What is happening to him? 

As he is about to rise from his bed and ready himself to attend the World Conference and apologize to the other nations for not attending the first day, France enters his room, looking haunted. He doesn't look like he has been sleeping for the past few hours since the two of them left the hospital last night.

" Ameriqué, Éccose and his brothers have something to tell us. Let's go." 

"What is it that they want to tell us?" he asks, a little shaky from his own thoughts and that dream.

"I don't know but he said that it was important. And I trust him. "

Everyone sits around the table, all looking like they haven't slept at all. There are dark bags under their eyes and their clothes are looking slightly unkempt. Canada, Finland, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Austria, China and Russia and Switzerland all look the worst of them all. Especially Switzerland who seems to have his whole world crumbled around him.

He can also feel the sadness, confusion, a little bit of anger and despair inside the room, especially from Finland who radiates heartbreak and sorrow so strong that he felt  his senses reeling the moment the Nordic nation entered the room. It took him a few moments to regain his composure and shook Finland's hand when it was offered.

Sitting next to the Finnish man, Norway isn't looking at any of them, and  Wales can see the guilt barely hidden beneath the nation's dull indigo eyes. Wales is never a violent person and he is never prone to strong outburst of emotions like his brothers but for a brief moment he desires to grab the blond and shout at him to explain and ask him why let Arthur do something so foolish and so selfless without telling his brothers and even saying goodbye. But he restrains himself for he and his three brothers that are with him in the room still aren't sure if Norway has any involvement in what Arthur and the other eight have done 30 years ago. And because Norway looks very tired, which is weird because it is currently 8 o'clock in the morning. 

Wales glances furtively at his brothers. Ian looks stressed, running one gloved hand over his messy red locks every minute, eyes darting from one nation to another and for the first time in years ignoring the tobacco pipe in Allistair's hand; his Scottish brother has a contemplative expression on his face and a faraway look on his eyes. He must be remembering Arthur, Wales thinks, sadly. He can't blame him, for he misses Arthur as much or more than he does. Arthur with whom he has lived with for almost a thousand years. Arthur who has been like the second half of his own soul. And it hurts to think that he has forgotten him and it hurts to think that if he, his brothers and all of the occupants of the room fail, then he won't be able to see him ever again. 

Him and the other eight.

They can't fail. They mustn't fail.

As if sensing his thoughts, Seamus looks up from his cup of tea, Earl Grey with honey and a bit of milk, ( just like how Arthur would take his , he thinks with a slight pang in his chest) and he gives him a reassuring smile, as if to say that everything will be alright. He smiles back, feeling his chest becoming lighter. 

The door to their meeting place opens and France and America enter the room, both panting and looking like they have run from Brooklyn to New York with how disheveled they both are. It is actually quite shocking to see France like this. 

"Sorry we're late," America sheepishly apologizes. "And sorry for not attending the meeting yesterday," he adds, thoughtfully.

Germany clears his throat. "It's fine. You don't have to apologize for what happened, it wasn't your fault. We all know that you're sick."

"Ve~ America, are you alright? Shouldn't you be still in the hospital?"

"Thank you, Germany! And no, Italy, I'm feeling good right now! I'm the hero after all! No sickness could beat the hero!" America laughs, though it is obvious that the cheer in his tone is false.

Italy visibly wilts . 

"So, dear Écosse , why did you call all of us here?" France asks Scotland, sweetly, though his blue eyes are serious.

Allistair's  eyes dart to his friend and then to America as if he is looking for something. Wales isn't sure what it is. 

"Get on with it, Alba," he hears Ian growls under his breath. 

Allistair sighs. "Before we begin, I want to ask all of you a question. Only one question. Are you alright with that?"

Everybody, except Norway, perks up. 

Then there is a chorus of agreement from everyone gathered in the room. 

"Last night, did all of you recover your memories of people who claim to be the representatives of Portugal , Liechtenstein , Sweden , Hong Kong , South Italy , Philippines , Prussia , Romania and England? "

The look on their faces is enough of an answer to his brother's question.

Chapter Text

"I do," Canada's answer is merely above a whisper, and yet everybody in the room heard it because of the silence that seemed to have enveloped it after Allistair's shocking question. All eyes goes to him but this time the shy nation isn't paying attention to anyone. There is a faraway look on his purple eyes, as if remembering something that happened a long time ago. " Last night, I dreamed of a young man who introduced himself to me as Arthur Kirkland and the representative of England while I was still a very young nation. He told me that he had beaten 'the bloody frog' and from then on I would be his colony. He was nice though I felt a bit afraid of him at first. That dream was so vivid, as if it was real and it felt like a memory. But that couldn't be possible, right?" he asks, looking at Scotland, earnestly, as if the European nation could answer all the questions in the world.

Wales closes his eyes, sadly.

Scotland smiles, softly. "I'm sorry, Matthew, but Arthur is real. He was the representative of England from the beginning.

He takes a deep breath. "Listen to me, fellas, I want to tell everything that happened to the so—called Lost Representatives. You all heard about them, right? About how nine countries were discovered, developed and advance all these years and yet none of their bosses could've found these countries' representatives? Well, that was a big lie. Those representatives have all been found from the moment their lands were all formed into one country. And we know them. My brother, Arthur, was one of them. But something happened 30 years ago that made us forget them. 

"Explaining everything to all of you would take very long. Just know that a magic spell had been cast on us to make us forget them. And because magic was used, then only magic could counter it. "  He turns to Northern Ireland. "Seamus, do you the book with you?"

Northern Ireland nods, retrieves a thick, black, dusty book from a green carrier bed and passes it to his older brother. 

France's eyebrows rise. He opens his mouth to speak but a glare from Ireland quickly shut him up. 

Scotland opens the book, flips several pages before stopping at the page that he is looking for. He begins to recite a spell in Old Latin, and instantly he feels his long sleeping magical power rise in every single cell of his body, awakening and answering his call. Just like Ireland, he never practices magic as much as England, Wales and Northern Ireland do, but he can still tap on it anytime he needed it, which wasn't really often. He realizes, which a start, that he has forgotten how invigorating the feeling of abundant magical power inside his body is. He smiles slightly. 

Next to him, he feels the warm glow of Ian's magic as his brother begins his chant as a response to his own. Seamus joins them, his magic soft and comforting and lastly, Dylan joins in, whose magic feels like the cold wind and rain of the British Empire. 

And in that moment, their magic became one.

America can only stare, eyes wide with wonder. What is happening in front of him is incredible and he can't remove his eyes from the scene.  The corner of his eyes, he sees that France and the other nations close to him are also staring at the British Isles brothers, all transfixed at the grand display of magic before them. 

Then Ireland says something in an old forgotten language and America felt something inside of his mind snaps, and like a broken dam images, voices and events flooded his mind and he screams, clutching his head. 

A young handsome man with messy blond hair, very large eyebrows and a cocky smirk on his face stood before him, one hand on his hip and another pointing a finger at him.

"I am England,  and from now on, I'm your older brother!"

"Okey. Then can I call you bro?"

"B-bro?"

"Please, England, don't leave," he begged from his bed, heavily sweating and delirious from the pain of his citizens dying one by one at a rapid rate.

"I'm sorry," England said, gritting his teeth. "But I really need to go. Don't worry. After this night, you wouldn't have to be hurt anymore. You and Canada, too. I will save both of you, I promise you."

"England," he groans, painfully, still clutching his head. Why why why why why—!!!!

He saw her on one of her beaches, wearing a loose blouse and long flowy skirt that reached her ankles. A single sampaguita flower was tucked at her left ear. She was barefoot ; sitting on the sand and watching the sea with a pensive expression on her lovely face. The warm weather and humidity was almost choking him and drowning him in his own sweat and yet she didn't seem to be affected by both.

"If you want to say something, say it," she suddenly said, her English perfect with a slight accent. Her solemn dark eyes never left the sea, however.

So, he awkwardly scratched the back of his head and grinned like an idiot. "Hi! I'm the United States of America, but you can also call me Alfred F. Jones. I and my men are here to help you and your people gain independence from that bastard Spain!  Nice to meet ya!"

She turned to him and he saw that despite her youth, her eyes looked tired. She smiled, slightly. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. America. My name is Philippines but you can call me Dolores Magsaysay."

He was talking to her over the phone; his usual reservation on contacting her after his new boss forbade him to making way for his brotherly concern towards the island nation. "Dolores, are you alright? Do you want me to go to your house? I'll take a private jet, my boss wouldn't known where am I until I arrived at your doorsteps. Dolores I—"

"D—don't..." she says, weakly, cutting him off. She coughed and he winced at the wet sound. She must be coughing blood again. "I—I'm fine, I assure you... You don't need to worry about me, Alfred. Just stay in your own home. Please..."

He sighed. There was nothing he could do now that she already refused his help. "Okay. If this is what you want, Dolores."

"Alfred, thank you..."

America collapses on his knees, his face wet with tears.

Xxx

Norway feels terrible as he watches all the nations in the room crying and clutching their heads as the memories that his and Arthur's and Vladimir's spell removed from their minds came back to them in a very painful way. Even Switzerland isn't spared despite already regaining his memories of his sister the night before. He wonders where the Kirkland brothers found that book that he recognized as one of the forbidden tomes secretly hidden in the Vatican under bolts and numerous locks. 

"So I see you already about Arthur's spell, Mr. Norway. You're the only one other than me and my brothers not affected by the spell we just used to bring back the others' memories,"  Wales says venomously on his shoulder, almost causing him to flinch. Almost. 

"It is rude to sneak on other people, Mr. Kirkland," he says, his calm tone a contrast to his sharply beating heart. 

Wales scoffs. His gaze is full of contempt. "Why don't you explain to me the reason why you hid the secret of the lost nations for 30 years? Tell me, Lukas, " he spits, fingers gripping the Nordic nation's right shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Dylan. There was nothing I could do. Nothing that all of us could do back then. They were killing all of us. If Arthur, Vladimir, I and the others hadn't done anything, then all of us would have been dead 30 years ago. That was the only way to save us all."

The grip tightens. "Then why...then why did you all erase our memories?"

"I didn't know that would happen. None of us did. The spell that Arthur used was only about using the nine sacrifices' life energies and their connection to their lands. I really didn't expect that it would also erase the memories of the sacrifices from everyone's minds, except mine. When I learned about it, it was already too late. There was nothing I could do to reverse it.

"I'm going to be honest to you, Dylan. I expected that all of you would regain your memories after one hundred years. That's how strong the spell was and the reason why now matter how hard I tried for years to I couldn't find a way to remove that memory—removal side—effect." 

Norway will never forget the day he woke up and felt that the severe pain that he had been suffering from had disappeared. He was shocked, then horrified when he realized that Arthur and Vladimir have both followed the plan despite him not being present. And he was even more horrified when he realized that it was Sweden who had taken his role. That wasn't supposed to happen. He was supposed to be one of the sacrifices, not Sweden. But how did Sweden find out about it? The nine of them have made damn sure to keep their plan a secret from the rest of the world. 

"But why not tell us? Why not ask for our help? Arthur was our brother. We would've helped him without hesitation," Northern Ireland suddenly asks at his left, his accent thick and tone incredulous.

Norway realizes that all four brothers are around him now, Scotland and Ireland are glaring down on him; Wales demands answers and the youngest, Northern Ireland, looks as if he is about to cry.

Norway knows that he has to be honest with them. "It was Arthur's decision. He wanted to protect all of you."

He closed his eyes so as not to see the anguish on the brothers' faces. 

'I'm sorry, Arthur. It seemed that I couldn't even keep my last promise to you.'

After a couple of hours when the nations aside from Norway and the Kirkland brothers recovered from their ordeal (some nations, most from Middle East and Asia have excused themselves and left the room to go back to their respective hotels, looking upset and confused by the revelation. )

Also Norway repeated to the nations that remained what he had revealed to the Kirkland brothers. Their reactions were as expected. 

Canada, pale and eyes red—rimmed underneath his glasses and clutching a sympathetic Kumajiro in his arms. "So, what should we do? Are they really gone?"

At his question, America turns pale, France's body becomes rigid, Germany clenches his fists, Italy hides his face in his palms with a broken cry and Spain, who has been strangely quiet from the moment moment he entered the room slammed his fists on the table, startling Netherlands and Belgium who are both sitting next to him. 

The normally cheerful nation has a very dark expression on his face. His eyes are puffy.  " No , " he growls, hoarsely. "I refuse to accept it. I won't accept that Romano, my brother and Gilbert are dead." 

"Is there anything that we can do to save them, Norway— san ? Is there a way to save England— san , Philippines— san and the others?" 

"Japan, actually there is—"

" Ve~ I miss my brother. Germany, Germany I want to see him again!"

" I swear that I will kick the damn Prussian douchebag when I see him! How dare that albino bastard do something like that? Doesn't he care about his brother at all?!"

"Elizabeta, my dear, put down your frying pan. You're scaring Latvia and Lithuania." 

" Norge , how could you lie to me about Sve?! I trusted you WAAAAAAAA!!!! "

"I'm so sorry for lying to you, Den. So please stop crying in my ears." 

"For lying to us about Svi I won't ever call you 'big brother' after all."

"That's really harsh, Ice."

There is a bit of chaos as the over 50 nations in the room try to cope with what happened to England and the  other eight nations 30 years ago. The mood became lighter and Norway noticed, to his relief, the smiles coming back on the faces of the nations heavily affected by it all. His brother  Finland doesn't look as heart broken as two hours ago. 

China, who has been pretty quiet while the others were causing ruckus, suddenly stands up and demands, "I don't believe that they're dead, aru . I can still feel Hong Kong and the Philippines through their connections to their territories. Tell us, do you guys know where the rest of them are? "

Scotland takes a drag from his pipe ( when did he lit that thing up? Norway thinks, distracted)  before he nods. " They're not dead. My brothers and I already found a way to find Arthur and the others. They're not in this world but in others. They are in other dimensions that are connected to this world. The spell that should've killed all of them only sent them to those dimensions and erased our memories of them. Isn't that right, Norway?"

"Yes. I just don't know how it happened. I've been trying to find out what caused it since it still killed the monsters that attacked all of us but the book of forbidden magic that we used to create the spell had also disappeared with Arthur." He shrugs helplessly. 

He can still feel Sweden through his connection to his brother's lands. However, that doesn't alleviate the guilt of letting him take his place. But he knows his brother and how stubborn he could be, especially regarding Tino, who was one of the nations who had been suffering the most back the then, worse than him. 

Losing Sweden hurt him deeply but looking at the Kirkland brothers, he feels a light of hope lit inside him for the first time in three decades.

"Then can we take them back, da ?" Russia asks, with a small polite smile. That smile doesn't reach dull—looking eyes, however. His older sister Ukraine reaches for his hand underneath the table and squeezes it in a small gesture of comfort.

Russia won't like to show it, but the disappearance of the nine hurt him greatly and only his sisters and  Lithuania know, something which he prefers.

"You bet your arse we'll take them all back," Ireland says harshly, crossing his arms. "We've already pinpointed each of their locations. However, not all of them are in the same dimension, and the trip that we will take will be really long. We also have no knowledge or any information about those dimensions so we will not know how dangerous those places are.

"Me and my brothers are leaving  the day after tomorrow. We've already done all the preparations needed and the magical array that will transport us in each dimension has already been prepared. So, I am going to ask :Who is going to come with us? And remember, we can only take–" 

"I will," Hungary answers unhesitatingly. Then her eyes narrow. "I will beat that dumbass Prussia until he begs for mercy when I see him!"

Austria adjusts his glasses. "If Elizabeta would go, then count me in."

"I will go, aru."

"Ve~ Germany, Japan and I are going with you guys, too."

"If you'll then I will go with you," Greece says, taking Japan's hand on his own, causing the island nation to blush.

"Hahaha! I'm coming with you guys! I can't wait to see Svi's face when he realizes that I am the one who will save his stupid ass!"

Norway turns to Iceland and Finland. "What about you two?" Iceland answers in affirmative.

Finland's smile is razor—sharp. "Are you going to stop me, Lukas?" he asks back, tone sweet yet laced with acid. His eyes are very hard, just like they were during the Winter War.

Norways shakes his head. It seems that his normally sweet and cheerful brother is harboring a bit of resentment towards him for keeping what happened to Sweden a secret all these years.

He decides that he will need to talk to his brother soon. He doesn't really need to find a knife underneath his pillow later.

" Mon dieu! I s that even a question? Of course I'll go. I can't wait for Angleterre to run into my arms and call me his savior as I take him back home to his country and Royal Family," France says, dramatically with a hand on his heart, causing Arthur's brothers to shoot him daggers through their eyes.

" Aurel and I are going to too," Bulgaria announces, holding Moldova's hand. "I have something to say to Vladimir's face when I see him again." The threat is said so calmly that it isn't hard to miss, except for those who have known him for long.

Moldova makes a small sound and bobs his head, cutely. 

"Natalia and I coming with you. We can't hardly miss everything, right?" Russia smiles creepily to Wales, who seems to have grown smaller in his seat.

"Su... sure. Wha...what about you, Ms. Ukraine?"

Ukraine smiles sadly. "I'm sorry but I can't leave. I would have to explain Ivan's and Natalia's leaving to their bosses. And my country is currently having an upheaval these days. Please forgive me."

Nobody dares to ask Switzerland, or else they'd risk a gun to their faces. The answer is already obvious through his face.

Out of the Baltics, Lithuania is the only one who agreed to leave with them. Seeing his friend's decision, Poland also volunteers to join their mission.

"I'll go too! I can't wait to see my little tomato again! O Romano, my Romano, where are you, Romano?" Spain cries out, hugging the person sitting closest to him,  Netherlands, who looks ready to pass out of rage or embarrassment, Belgium isn't sure.

Then they all turn to America, who looks ready to jump from his seat. "Of course I'll go! I'm the hero after all!" he declares, grinning.

"Don't worry, England! Philippines!  As your hero both, I'll come and save you! Just wait for me!" 

Chapter Text

"Seriously, I'll return in a week, okay? Besides, you're the one who's been bugging me about taking a break once in a while, don't 'ya? I just have a very important matter to take care of. ...wait, I'm serious! And no, it's not about the end of the world! Just trust me about this, okay? Okay, gotta go. Bye, boss." 

Sighing, America turns off his phone and stuffs it inside his suit's pocket. 

It's been three days since the World Conference that changed his perception on the past thirty years. The twenty–five nations that will go save the nine they have lost three decades ago have agreed to meet in England's house in London, one that, if it weren't for Northern Ireland being given the rights for it, would have fallen in disrepair a long time ago, unlike England's manors in the other parts of UK that have their own housekeepers. For years Northern Ireland have taken care of the simple yet lovely house while living in it, believing that it is a gift from the state. When he realized the truth, the physically fourteen–year–old Kirkland had broken down, calling and sobbing to his Southern counterpart on the phone. 

He hadn't been pleased when Ireland reenacted the phone call to the gathered nations, however. 

After a moment of indecision, America decides to change into a pair of jeans, a blue sweater and a pair of running shoes. 

Canada is waiting for him outside of the  room. His twin is holding Kumajiro in his arms and the two are currently having a distressing argument.

"Look, here, Kumakoko, I can't take you with me. I and the others are going to somewhere really dangerous and I'm worried that you might get hurt. But don't worry, I already talked to Kaelin and he promised that he'll take care of you in my stead."

His bro's animal companion looks ready to bite him. "Take me with you. I've sworn from the moment that we met that I will protect you, Canada. So I refuse to be left behind," the little snow-white bear says firmly.

Canada's brows furrow worriedly. He shakes slightly and then hugs his friend tighter. "I just don't want you to get hurt. That's all, Kumafuji."

"Stop worrying about the possibilities and the likes. I give you my word that I will not let anyone or anything hurt me."

"Are you sure, Kumakuchi?"

"Yes. Now smooth those wrinkles on your forehead and trust me. Besides, nothing can make me leave your side at all."

A sigh. "Thank you."

Kumajiro inclines his head, face blank. "Who are you?"

Canada sighs again. But his face lights up considerably. " Alright, I'll take you with us. But I need to talk to Kaelin again and tell him that we have a change of plans. And I'm Canada, the one who feeds you, you know."

Kumajiro doesn't answer. Insteads he opts to ignore his owner. 

"Yo, Matt, bro! How are you doing?" he greets cheerfully, which startles his twin and makes the taller man turn towards him with a glare.

"Alfred! Didn't I already tell you to stop doing that? You can give someone a heart attack one day!" he demands in his naggy tone of voice that is familiar in a heart–aching way.

He grins. "Come on, bro, loosen up a little. You're starting to sound like Artie there."

Realizing what he has just said, America's grin falls.

He pauses and then a heavy silence falls between the two of them. 

After a moment, Canada's eyes glisten. "I miss him, Alfred," he confesses, voice quavering. 

"I know. I miss him, too. But...we can find him, right? His brothers are just waiting for the right time to start the ritual, which will be five hours from now."

"It's just that...I can't believe that he's been gone for thirty years and I didn't even know. Why did we have to lose not only him but also our memories of him? Why? It isn't fair, Alfred." He blinks back his tears.

America can't find the right words to answer  his brothers' question. He is never good with emotional moments like this at all. And looking at the vulnerability that Canada is showing at him, he doubts that joking will do more harm than good. 

So he puts another fake grin on his face and slaps his brother's back, who yelps in surprise. "Cheer up, Matt! I'm sure that all Artie wanted was for us to be safe and living worry–free. And we can always ask him about the spell that he used when we see him again, right?"

Canada sighs. He wipes away his tears with his fingers. "You're right. When I see him again then we can ask him. He has some explaining to do." He huffs.

America laughs. "Make sure to drill that old man with a question, okay? We won't let him rest until he answers all of them. That's a promise." 

"By the way, I'm sure that the others are already waiting for us in Arthur's fancy–ass house in London. Want to take the flight with me, bro?"

"Why do you think I'm here, Alfred? Just give me a minute to call Kaelin to tell him that I'll be taking Kumapiko with me."

"Didn't he tell you why he and Liam couldn't come with us?"

"Yes. Both of their countries have been suffering in civil unrest lately. They want to go look for Arthur, too, but they couldn't leave their lands for a week or two. Kaelin is really sad about it because they miss Arthur as much as we do."

"Well, all we can do is to bring Arthur back with us, right? 

"Then our family will be whole again."

"I wish so,  Alfred,  oh how I wish so."

The lady stewardess—Gabrielle, was it?—that brought his drink is a gorgeous woman with glossy brown hair tied in a high ponytail, a pair of electric green eyes, adorable dimples on both cheeks and a body that would put a supermodel's shame. In another time, another place, France would've flirted with her, charming her into giving her full name and number. Today, however, he can't bring up the energy to do more than thank her for bringing his drink. 

Sitting on the seat next to him, his companion sighs. 

"This is the seventeenth time you sighed in this fight, my dear Antonio, " he comments, before taking a sip on his drink. "You know you can spill what's been troubling you to me, right? It is about the matter with Romano, your brother, Gilbert and the other six?"

Spain sighs, looking like a kicked puppy. " I just can't believe that all of them did that without telling us or even leaving a letter to say goodbye. Allistair said that the spell wasn't supposed to erase our memories. So didn't they care at all about what we would think when they suddenly disappeared into thin air without us knowing why?" 

Realizing that his friend is close to crying, France gently pats him on the back in sympathy. "I think that they have a good reason for not telling us, mon ami, " he says, softly. "And I know little Romano. He may be hard on the edges and a rude young man but I know that he couldn't live without you. He loves you, remember that. And I believe that Henrique and Gilbert would do anything for the sake of their brothers."

To France's delight, the dark clouds over Spain's mood seem to have been lifted and his friend's sunny disposition returns. 

And for the next hour and a half France finds himself being regaled with cheerful stories about baby turtles, sand castles and plump tomatoes.

He can't ask for anything more. Nor would he want to.

He closes his eyes and leans back on his chair, feeling content for the first time in that week.

A pair of fierce green eyes flashes inside his mind.

Norway sees from the corner of his eyes Finland pulling a small velvet box inside his bag. It is a familiar object to him, for he had been there with Ice and Den when a nervous and stuttering Finland asked the receptionist of the eleventh jewelry store that they had visited for the day.

The Finnish nation had been preparing to confess to his larger housemate for a week and none of the three of them had the heart to  tell him that you didn't need a ring for a confession, just a bouquet of flowers or a romantic dinner date for two was enough. And knowing Sweden, he would be happy to hear Finland's confession even in the background of their house that they have lived in for years. 

But Finland had been adamant about making that moment perfect for Sweden. 

Years ago, after England had activated the spell, Finland came to him to share how he found a beautiful sapphire–studded engagement ring inside the pocket of his favorite pants. It looked very expensive and Finland wondered aloud if he had bought it while drunk, for he was never ever prone to waste money on such fancy jewelry that he wouldn't use anyway.

Norway had stayed silent, throat constricting and too emotional to trust himself to speak.

Finland, however, could never bring himself to part with the precious jewelry.

Norway wonders, briefly, if those vile creatures hadn't attacked earth, if he could have seen both Tino and Ber at the altar wearing tuxedos and marching golden rings, the former with a bright smile on his face and the latter with a soft and rare one that makes his face less severe and scary.

Finland's feelings have never changed, Norway is sure of that. For something so deep–rooted in someone's heart it will take more than three decades and memory alteration to kill it. 

He swears that they will find Ber and take him home with them. 

So their family will be complete once more.

"Big brother Boris?"

"Yes, Aurel?"

"Do you think that big brother Vlad got mad and tired of always taking care of me so he left us both?"

"N–no! Where did you get that from?! Listen, Aurel, your big brother loves you and would never ever get tired of you. He left because he wanted to protect you. Understand?"

"Okay..."

"Hey, big brother Boris. Why are you crying? Do you miss big brother Vlad, too?"

"W–wha–? I'm not crying! I just have sand on my eyes! Yes, sand!"

"Guid mornin’," Scotland greets his brothers upon entering the kitchen of England's, currently Northern Ireland's, home, where he finds Wales at the stove cooking some English breakfast, Northern Ireland preparing tea and Ireland baking scones. 

His mouth twitches at the strangely domestic scene that sends a warm glow in his chest. Though if only Arthur was here then he would have raised hell at the sight of their brothers in his kitchen, only to start grumbling while taking a seat after Ireland would kick him away from the stove. 

And then the five of them would share breakfast together, talking about matters of their states until the conversation would suddenly veer off to one 'loud–mouthed, chubby, idiotic American with hero complex' and Wales would sigh long–sufferingly, Northern Ireland would snicker on his cup of tea and he and Ireland would ruthlessly tease their brother about his very obvious crush on the bespectacled blond nation and Arthur would blush, stutter and then starts cursing all of them . 

Scotland wills the painfully sweet scenario away from his mind. 

" 'Morning, Ali," Wales greets, keeping his eyes on the stove. Ireland and Northern Ireland's melodious voices greet their eldest brother.

"By the way, I received a call from France ten minutes ago," Ireland says, pulling a tray of freshly baked Irish scones from the oven. "He'll be arriving here with Spain soon. Spain came to visit him a couple of days ago and they decided to take a flight towards here in London together."  He starts putting the hot scones on several fine chinas and before placing them on the table.

Scotland nods, thoughtfully, taking a seat.

Xxxx

It didn't take long before Wales and Northern Ireland finished their tasks and for the guests to arrive. As promised, France arrived early together with Spain. Then Bulgaria entered their door holding little Moldova's hand. The Nordics arrived together; then Russia and his sister; China and Japan arrived, the former looking vexed and the latter morose; Greece arrived not long after the two Asian nations and upon seeing his boyfriend's mood, walked towards him and gave him a bear hug, which seemed to lift Japan's disposition considerably. Then Lithuania and Poland walked through the door, Feliks chattering, more like complaining about his control freak of a boss while Toris nodded and sometimes winced in sympathy. With his ever present scowl, Switzerland got out of a cab together with Austria and Hungary, the latter being overly sweet and cuddly while walking towards the house. A few minutes later, Italy and Germany arrived with a loud 'Ve~' . And last but not the least, Scotland saw the North American twins, together with Canada's pet polar bear Kumajiro, enter the gates of the house.

They were all lucky that his brothers cooked a breakfast large enough for an army, for several of their guests came to their home famished since they've forgotten to eat breakfast before taking several hours of flight.

After eating breakfast and making small talk, the Kirkland men decided to start making some finishing touches on the magic array that they will use to transport themselves and the other twenty–one nations to another dimension. 

Scotland hopes that nothing will go wrong. Magic is always a sensitive thing. One small mistake and all of their plans will irrevocably go down the drain.

Quietly, Sealand climbs inside the window of England and Northern Ireland's house,  being careful not to make a noise that will alert the representatives inside the house. If he got caught, he is sure that one of that jerk Arthur's brothers or Mr. Finland would send him home. But they can't do that! He'll be a great country one day! He, the awesome Sealand, will show them! Ha! And that jerk Arthur, too, who he doesn't miss at all! He misses Papa Sweden and wants to see him again but not that jerk Arthur! Never!

Tiptoeing, he reaches the kitchen and sees America, Canada and France talking to each other in hushed voices while  sitting before the table and Spain is drinking a cup of coffee, a thoughtful look on his face. 

Silently, like the spies in America's movies, he begins to advance deep inside the house towards the basement and enters it. Arthur's brothers are there, talking to each other and standing before a large drawing on the floor of the basement. 

He grins and hides himself behind the big boxes on the corner. Let's see if they could send him away after he finally performs his awesome act!

Much, much later, Scotland realizes that not all plans go smoothly.

"Blimey, my head hurts."

"Mine feels like it's about to crack open, aru ."

" Ve~"

"Peter, this is your fault! Who taught you to jump in the middle of a magic array while it is in the middle of activating, you little rascal?"

"Hmph! If I hadn't done then you would have all left me behind! You can't do that to me because I'm going to become a great country one day!"

" Ve ~"

"Bollocks!"

" Mon diue , please stop shouting in my ear, Dylan." 

"Darn it, my head hurts..."

"Oh, my darling, do you need anything? A handkerchief? A cup of tea? Water? Aspirins?"

" Ve~ "

"Someone should pay for giving me this nasty headache, right, da ?"

"Who gave my big brother a headache? I'm going to kill them."

" Ve~ "

"Ahh! Who touched my butt? It is you, Francis?"

"Sorry, my dear Antonio, but it's not me this time. But if you want mi amour , just come near me and I'll oblige you."

"Sorry, Spain–san. That was me. I was looking for Greece–san and touched you by mistake. Please forgive me."

"Well, it's fine. At least I know that you're not a pervert."

"Are you hurt somewhere, Kumamomo?"

"Who are you?"

"So, I think that it's the time for a hero like me to save the day again!"

" Ve~ "

"Where are we?"

"Where did you bring us, you Scottish arsehole? Tell me right now before I beat you up!"

"Oh, for the love of Queen and Country,  calm down, Vash!"

"Oww, I think I broke a hip."

"Please, everybody calm down."

"Not even a bad fall call vanquished a former Viking like me! Watch me, Nor, as I stand on both feet!"

"Shut up, Den."

"Has anyone seen Mr. Puffin?"

"That's like, totally not cool. I think that I totally broke a nail, Toris. Do you know how expensive this is?!"

"Not the time, Feliks. Not the time."

" Ve~!!! "

Everyone turns towards the young Italian man, who bursts into tears. 

"Ve~ Where's Germany?"

His whole body hurts; his ears are ringing and he is sure that his left ankle is twisted. Through his groggy consciousness, he feels that his hands are tied behind him and he's leaning on his side on a hard surface. 

The first scent that he becomes aware of is the salt of the sea and fishes, and then the gross odor of unwashed bodies assaults his nose and he instinctively cringes back, his mind quickly growing clear.

"Well, look here. Looks like we caught a big one here, boys. How much do you lads think we can get for him?"

"Hmm, I think I can get three bags of silver coins from Jude's place, Miguel. That guy is a miser but at least he plays fair."

"Now that's delightful news! To Jude's place we go then."

"Aye."

The men around him laugh raucously and Germany freezes in fear. Where the hell did he get himself into? 

He opens his eyes and is met with the harsh blinding rays of the sun. 

He is on a ship. And looking at the flag of the ship that is merrily swaying with the wind, a pirate's ship.

"Aww, lads, I see that y'all all having fun there. Care to let me join with ya?" A steady, unhurried footsteps accompanied the harsh grating voice with a very familiar accent.

"C–captain!"

"Now, now. There's no need to be nervous. Tsk. I heard ya' talkin 'bout good ole' Jude." The lilting, high–pitched voice lowers  and turns threatening. Germany is too afraid to look at the speaker. "Didn't I already warn all of you not to deal with that sun of a gun? We don't deal with slavery. Now let me look at that poor chap before I send him to the bottom of the sea."

The newcomer, the one the frightened men around him called captain, kneels before him, puts a gloved hand on his chin before forcing Germany to face him.

Shocked wide blue eyes meet a pair of frightening red orbs and the very familiar stranger's devil–may–care grin.

Chapter Text

The first time he opened his eyes, he saw a pair of blood–red eyes bearing down on him, glowing with warmth that matched the smile on the teen's face. 

He blinked and opened his mouth but closed it again, unsure at what to say to the stranger with him, for he had plenty of questions inside his brain that kept nagging at him, refusing to stop until he could find all the answers that he needed.

Who was he? Where was he? Why did his body hurt so bad? Like he had been torn apart and put back together again? And who was this teen in front of him with his scary eyes, pale complexion and a mop of white hair under a  pointy hat? His head hurt, his heart ached and his body thrumming with restlessness, he burst into tears. 

The red–eyed teen's smile disappeared and was replaced with a look of mixed dismay and horror. "Mein gott, don't cry! I'm not here to hurt you, I swear! I'm not your enemy! Can't you feel who I am? Can't you?" he asked, alarmed.

He sniffled but his tears dried up. He shook his head, confused. His body continued to thrum. From what, he wasn't sure. But it seemed important.

To him. 

The albino teen scratched his head, awkwardly, looking completely lost for a moment. He then murmured something about not having experiences dealing with children like 'some unawesome Austrian and a Hungarian witch.' Then his face lit up and he grinned. This time, his grin was full of confidence. His crimson eyes held the younger's icy–blue orbs and said, " Listen, I never had experiences like this before so bear with me at first, alright?  My name is Prussia, and I'm your awesome big brother! And from now on I will be the one to take care of you!

"So nice to meet you, Germany." 

" '...and then the Awesome Knight rescued the lovely princess from the clutches of the fire–breathing Hungarian dragon and they lived happily ever after! ' The end! What do you think of the story, my cute baby bro? The Prussian knight is really awesome ,right? Right?" Gilbert asked Ludwig, who was lying down on his bed, with a large grin on his face, eyes twinkling like a child in a festival.

Germany's face was blank after listening to the hour–long bedtime story. "Bruder, I have a question." 

"Say it."

"Why do all your bedtime stories have a villain from Hungary and Austria? And why are all the heroes named Awesome? Are they the same person each time? Or did the authors of your stories not have any originality?"

Prussia looked at him, shocked and looking like his whole world have crumbled around him. "Ahhh!!! My cute baby brother is not cute anymore! And after I tell him bedtime stories every night so he will have a good night's sleep!" he cried out, clutching his heart dramatically. 

Germany blinked. "Bruder, why are you crying?"

Prussia's only answer was to cry harder.

Germany sighed. Sometimes he wondered which of them was the older one in this house.

"Bruder, where are you going?" Germany asked his older brother when he caught him sneaking out of their house in the middle of the night. For a man who was trying to sneak out, Prussia had made enough noise to wake up the dead.

He was just going down to drink a glass of water, for the current world crisis wouldn't let him sleep even for a bit out of worry for his friends and neighbor nations and fear that he and his brother would be attacked too by whatever was attacking the other countries. 

He didn't want anything bad to happen to his brother.

At the sound of his voice, Prussia nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around, sweating and looking nervous. "Kesesese, the awesome me was just going outside to take a breath of fresh air and look at the stars, just like Italy whenever he visits. What about you?"

Germany's eyes narrowed in suspicion. He didn't trust his brother's answer. Not a bit. But he decided to let it go. His brother's mischievousness seemed to have toned down these last several days after they heard news that Spain was in a coma and they have been forbidden by his boss to go to his house and visit him. The news had hit the albino hard and he had been evasive ever since and leaving every now and then to unknown places without letting Germany know.

But he refused to pry and instead chose to respect his big brother's privacy.

"Don't take too long. You know what has been happening around the world lately." 

Without waiting for his brother's response, Germany turned around and headed for the kitchen.

That was the last time he would ever see his brother again.

Looking at his brother, in a pirate's get–up, surrounded by other pirates and standing on a pirate ship, Germany isn't sure whether to hug him or believe that the world has gone mad.

Ireland has a headache, both physical and metaphorical ones. Wales, who had already exhausted himself lecturing Sealand on the dangers of jumping into an activating magic array and screwing with magical spells while also nursing a large bruise on his temple, all but collapsed beside him under the tree of  the small forest where they found themselves unceremoniously dropped into. The place brings a sort of bittersweet feeling of nostalgia in his chest, just like the green forests of England when he was just a wee lad called Albion.

"Remind me to give England hell for raising that little rascal wrong when we see him again, Ian," Wales groans, head slumping on his shoulder. Ireland grunts in reply. He immediately regrets the small action when it sends another spike of pain to his temple. 

In another dimension, cut from his land and people, it seems that he doesn't heal as fast as when he is back home. That also seems to be the case with his brothers and the other nations that have gone with them. Denmark is still limping, having broken his left leg and China is acting like a crotchety old man, which he definitely is, and glaring at everyone. The only ones who don't seem injured are Moldova (Bulgaria cushioned his fall with his own body, earning a broken hip in the process), Finland, Iceland, Norway (Norway used his magic to break their fall but wasn't fast enough to break Denmark's ), Hungary and Italy, who is still crying in her arms. The rest gained a variety of bruises, cuts and broken bones. 

And all of them are angry, some more so than the others. Strangely enough, Russia seemed to be as cool as a cucumber as he bandaged his little sister's broken left wrist ten minutes ago.

Scotland hasn't stopped cursing in Gaelic for an hour now, much to France's chagrin. The French have been trying to calm down his old friend to no avail. 

And not to mention the fact that Germany is missing...

"Dear god," Wales whispers, staring straight ahead. Ireland follows his gaze and feels all the remaining tiny energy in his body drains up at the sight of America striding towards them, his movements strong and determined. 

He and evidently Wales, are both too exhausted to deal with the boisterous American. Not that the teen himself seems to realize it.

"Hey guys, whassup?" England's former brat greets, loud enough to send another spike of pain in his temple. Wales stiffens and he doesn't need to look to his brother to know that the American's loud voice also pained him.

Jesus, can't the boy tone his voice down?

"America," Wales begins, tiredly. He massages his head. "What do you want?"

America shrugs nonchalantly, eyeing both brothers with a solemn gaze, yet Ireland can see that beneath the younger nation's air of indifference, there is a deep emotion threatening to surface. Regret? Sadness? 

Can it be...?

Ireland shakes the ridiculous thought away from his mind. It is impossible. 

"I want to ask you two something," America says.

"Spill it," he says and suddenly he feels a need for a glass of whiskey.

"It's...it's about Arti – I mean, England. Did you guys not really know what he was planning with Romania and Norway?"

He feels Wales stiffen in distress at the mention of their wayward little brother. Ireland pats his younger brother's fluffy brown curls to comfort him. Plenty of people and nations have made the mistake in thinking that out of all of them Northern Ireland has the closest relationship with England. However that can't be farther from the truth. England and Wales both have a deep bond with each other, a bond that in the past 30 years made Wales little more than a shell of its past self after England's disappearance. Wales may not have noticed it, so busy with managing his and England's political affairs, but he, Scotland and Northern Ireland can clearly see it. And it worried them.

Only after the spell was lifted from them then Wales started acting like his former self.

'I swear I'm gonna give Arthur an earful when we finally find him,' he thinks. 

"No, we didn't," he answers, truthfully, before Wales can say a word. " We were left in the dark as much as you and the others."

America nods, and the indescribable emotion behind his eyes dims. "Just as I expected from the old man. Always doing whatever he wants despite what the others around him might feel." 

Before Ireland can make a scathing remark, they all hear a loud shout coming from the group of nations just a few feet away from them. 

It came from Switzerland, who is, surprisingly enough, in the middle of a shouting match with Austria of all people. From their position, they can't hear what the argument is about but it seems to be very serious based on the expressions on the two men's faces.  Hungary and Italy are between the two Germanic nations, trying to calm both to no avail. The others are standing a few feet away from the four, some looking lost and a few afraid to intervene. Ireland can't blame them. It is not often that you would see a normally phlegmatic man like Austria to lose his cool and go into a shouting match with another. 

He looks at America and America looks back at him, expectantly. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. "You're the hero, aren't you? Can you do something about them? Germany isn't here after all."

America's face lights up at being called a hero. After giving him a thumbs up, America all but jumped towards the group to mediate between the Swiss and Austrian before the former could pull out his gun. 

" Éire ?" Wales quietly murmurs as they watch the American leave, his accent turning really  thick which is a clear indication that he is upset.

"What is it, Cymru ?" he asks, though he can guess what his brother is going to say next.

"Do you think that America...he..."

"I hope not," he cuts in, bitterly. "Or if he is, then England has suffered for years for nothing at all." 

"C–captain! Please forgive us!  We weren't serious about doing business with Jude!  W–we swear on our lives!" one of the rough-looking pirates babbled,  crying and kneeling before the albino. Behind him,  the other pirates knelt, all pale and motionless in fright. 

The man they call their captain ( Gilbert,  his brother,  oh god where have he been all this time ) has seemingly finished inspecting Germany who himself is too astound to move. Gilbert stands up and dusts his breeches. With a bored look on his handsome face,  he turns to other pirates on the deck,  watching the spectacle wearing a variety of expressions between amusement and trepidation. "Take these bastards away, " he orders, waving a hand on the kneeling and weeping men, " and give them fifteen lashes each. Make sure that they will pass out later, alright? " 

Without a word the other pirates seize up the offenders and lead them away,  crying harder and begging their captain for mercy. Gilbert rolls his eyes in disgust. His red eyes narrow and his face becomes darker. "What are ya' still doing here? Scram! " he barks at the other onlookers who are still present. They immediately begin to scurry away,  all afraid of their captain's wrath.  When they're out of sight,  he turns back to the blond and kneels again. He begins untying the rope that bound his hands behind him. 

Ludwig's wrists are all red and beginning to swell and Gilbert let out a rather foul curse.  That startles him out of his stupor. "Brother,  how–"

"Not now," Gilbert cuts him off curtly. "Let me bring you to my cabin. You can rest there while I call a doctor to take care of your wrists,that nasty bruise on your temple and your ankles. And later, tonight,  we will talk."

Chapter Text

After his older brother brought Germany into his cabin and made him lay on his own bed,  Prussia left him with a promise to come back with a doctor to tend to his injuries, leaving him all alone with his thoughts. 

Truth be told,  Germany is still in shock after seeing his older brother after a very long time and just shortly after recovering his memories of him. Guilt, shame and anger at his self rear inside his chest and Germany wonders,  again,  how can a magical spell, no matter how strong it was,  can cut off the bond he has with Prussia. Prussia,  who is his older brother and the one who has also raised him like a parent after discovering in the middle of a battlefield full of corpses and blood. Is the strength of the love he has for his older brother not enough not to fall under the after-effects of a spell? 

After anger,  self-doubts emerge and he closes his eyes in guilt.

Thirty years ago,  he knew ,  he felt that the invasion had brought Prussia up despite the fact that their country had yet to fall to the creatures.  It started when Spain fell and followed by their other friends also became victims of the creatures . Germany was safe,  Prussia was safe and that all what mattered to him.Then Prussia began acting stranger and stranger everyday and leaving frequently and despite his worries and suspicions at his older brother's actions,  Germany didn't say a word and instead closed his eyes and ears and acted like nothing painful was happening to Prussia or to other countries. 

'If only I had talked with him. If only I had asked him how he was feeling back then, if only I had cared more about the state of the other countries and didn't listen to my Chancellor when he demanded me to stay in my house and not leave until he told me so would my brother still choose join the others into sacrificing themselves to save us? '

Germany wonders if he had been in the same situation as his brother thirty years ago, can he do the same? He thinks of Italy, his fiancé and the love of his life.  The other Nation must be worrying himself sick for Germany right now. He also thinks of Japan and America, his two best friends,  and Hungary and Austria and the other members of G8 and realizes that yes,  he will do the same. And Prussia,  despite his annoying habits and childish temper tantrums after becoming East Germany,  truly loves him and their friends. He has always been the type of person to sacrifice himself for the ones he loves. 

But the realization doesn't numb Germany's guilt.

The sun is beginning to set when the group of Nations arrives in a small port town that reeks of fish,  sea salt and unwashed bodies.

Poland wrinkled his nose. "Eww,  can we,  you know, go to another place? It's totally disgusting here and I don't want my nose to die after inhaling more of these barbarians' body odor!" he whines and covers his nose with his hands. 

His complaint is met with irritated scowls and glares from most of the members of their group. 

Lithuania sighs and offers his handkerchief to his friend who quickly snatches the item with a gleeful thanks.

North Italy looks like he is about to collapse on his feet,  mumbling about Germany and pasta under his breath.  Russia is carrying his sleeping sister on his back. Bulgaria is doing the same thing to the sleeping Moldova, his hips having been fixed by Norway three hours ago. The rest are in the state where they will either collapse from exhaustion or murder someone just by making the slightest noise. 

Scotland is also tired but he wills his body to stay alert.  Next to him,  Wales and Ireland are also alert and keeping an eye on the narrow lamp-lit streets that remind him of old days where pirates and other criminals were running rampant in every port in the United Kingdom. It seems that the magical array didn't just bring them in another dimension but also in a different age. The people walking around and about the place are wearing clothes in the fashion of the 18th century. And the group of twenty-six  Nations, with their modern clothes and accessories, are sticking out like sore thumbs in the streets. 

From the corner of his eyes,  he sees some of the people in the streets giving their large and weird-looking group suspicious glances. Some are angry and some even look afraid. 

To their left,  three dirty and nasty-looking men are eyeing Scotland's group with greed visible in their eyes.  

"Let's go," he whispers to his brothers. "It's already dark and the streets are dangerous.  We must find a hotel or an inn so we can all finally eat and sleep. Tell the others to move quickly. We mustn't waste more time."

Wales and Ireland nod and move to talk to the other Nations in their group. Scotland looks down at Sealand,  who has been sulking ever since Wales tied him in a leash and gave the leash to Scotland. "You heard me,  right? I don't want any trouble right now so you must behave or else I will put you on my knees and spank you. Got it,  Pete? "

Sealand pouts but the threat of being spanked by his terribly strong uncle makes him instantly agree to behave. His butt still hurts from the punishment that Finland gave him two hours ago.

After making sure that Sealand won't give him any more headaches,  Scotland turns to Northern Ireland who is walking behind him with a vacant expression on his face, his emerald-green eyes luminous behind his long red hair.  He is currently using a spell to detect the aura of any Lost Nations close to  them but there has been no luck since he began two hours ago. 

Scotland opens his mouth and is about to call his younger brother's name to tell him to stop the spell and be more aware of his surroundings when Northern Ireland's head snaps up sharply and turns towards the alleyway in their right. Scotland follows his eyes and blinks in shock. 

Portugal is looking at them,  a surprised smile on his lips. The Lost Nation stares at Scotland and their group for a short moment, deep green eyes showing unspeakable emotions,  before the Iberian country sighs and turns around to disappear in the dark alley behind. 

"Wait! " Scotland shouts in panic, his feet moving faster until he is running after the nation, Northern Ireland following behind him. 

However,  the moment they reach the alley, Portugal has already disappeared,  leaving the dark alley empty. 

Xxxxxxxx

"You shouldn't be here,  West." Russia says,  sitting on the chair beside the bed where the younger of the two Nations lay. 

The doctor has already left after treating Germany's injuries and being paid by Prussia. The older Nation also told the doctor if he couldn't keep his mouth shut then the pirate captain shut it for him by sewing his mouth together. Germany has winced in sympathy. 

Germany looks up at his brother, hurt and confused at what his brother has just told him. 

Prussia looks tired. The Eastern half of Germany seems to have aged a century. His white hair is a mess and his eyelids are dark and swollen with stress and exhaustion. His white blouse is unbuttoned, showing off a large scar that can only be from a gash on his sun-kissed chest. 

The Prussia before him now is a far cry from the confident pirate captain that saved Germany from the other pirates that afternoon. 

Germany swallows his nervousness and asks matter-of-factly, "Brother, where have you been all this time?"

Prussia laughs.  " I suppose that I have to explain myself to you,  then, West? " He runs a hand over his messy white hair. 

Germany doesn't appreciate the amusement dripping on his older brother's tone. "Yes,  you do, bruder  . How about you begin by telling me how long you and the other eight planned the whole ritual to destroy the alien creatures that attacked us thirty years ago? "

Prussia remains silent for a moment. The albino seems to be deep in thought.  Then he sighs, stands up and walks towards the table at the center of the room. He starts pouring wine on a glass from the decanter on the table. " Shit– sorry, West, but I'll be needing a drink while I'll explain to you what happened back then," he says and takes a big gulp from the glass. He wipes his mouth and begins to talk about what had taken place weeks before the ritual. 

The call came from London. At first Prussia was befuddled because he hadn't expected England or his brothers to contact him and he also never gave his personal contact number to them. It was also in the middle of the night in the country of Germany and Prussia had yet to get a full restful sleep.

The last time he had talked with  Austria, the bespectacled nation told him that Hungary's condition was getting worse and worse. Austria had sounded so worried and helpless on the other line and Prussia couldn't help but fear for the worst. 

"Prussia?  Gilbert Beilschmidt?" the person on the other end of the line said,  tentatively, as if expecting someone else other than the owner of the phone to answer it. 

Prussia frowned when he recognized the voice of his midnight caller. "England? Mein gott, what do you want?  Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?" he asked, feeling a little more than irritated.

"Listen, Prussia , and listen carefully. Norway,  Romania and I have found a solution to the problem that we,  the whole world,  are facing right now. We've found a way to permanently kill and destroy the creatures that are attacking our friends and will attack us soon too."

Prussia started and nearly dropped his phone. "You mean we can finally kill those goddamn ugly sons-of-bitches bugs? " 

Prussia could hardly breath from excitement.  His heart started beating like thunder inside his chest. If they succeeded in killing those ugly giant creatures then Hungary, Spain and the other countries who've already been attacked would recover and would not die!

"I know that you'll be interested. We need six more countries to join us. Our plan involves nine countries and not just any countries,  but countries with close relationships with their magical side. I know that you still have magic in you,  Prussia."

Prussia exhaled harshly. How did England find out about his secret that not even West was aware of? He began to grow suspicious of the other nation. 

"....we don't have much time,  Prussia. Soon the creatures will fully devour the other countries and those countries will die and we must prevent that from happening! Just trust me on this one,  Gilbert, because I need you. Please. "

Thanks to his history as one of the greatest empires on earth, England was a very prideful and very proud nation. To hear him beg was something that Prussia had never expected at all. 

And then it clicked in his mind.  

America was one of the very first victims of the creatures' attacks. The young nation was very strong because of his superpower status but even he had a hard time fighting against unkillable enemies.

And England had always loved that child.

Prussia thought of Germany, of Hungary and Austria,   of Spain and of the other countries that have become parts of his life and he found himself understanding England as he hadn't done before.

"Tell me about your plan, Arthur, " he said, seriously.

The next day,  he found himself sneaking outside the borders and on a flight towards London. England's secretary met him at the airport and drove him to England's mansion in London. There,  England waited with seven more nations,  some of them he hadn't expect to agree to their heroic and also suicidal plan.

"Liechtenstein?! What are you doing here,  little missy?  Did your older brother know that you are here? " he blurted in shock. 

Liechtenstein seemed to squirm on her seat for a moment before she straightened her posture and met his gaze,  her green eyes like steel. "I-I'm here to protect my b-brother. He...he has always protected me so i-it's time for me to p-protect him now. And my...my land still has a large amount of magic in it despite being s-small. Mr. Romania told me that I can protect my brother and everyone else so I won't back down now! "

Prussia couldn't help but be impressed at her courage. And since West was also one of his reasons why he was currently standing on England's carpet he decided not to try stopping her. 

Romania smiled. He took Liechtenstein's hand and squeezed it as if to assure the girl. Liechtenstein smiled back in gratitude. 

"Great. Are you all done? Can we start the meeting now? " Norway asked,  sounding and looking irritated. The Scandinavian nation was acting cranky and everyone in the room knew why. The creatures have begun attacking him also, swallowing one town at a time and killing and eating his people at a rapid rate. Norway looked pale,  much paler than he used to be and there were large dark bags under his eyes.  He also had a hard time moving his right arm which looked really terrible with its skin looking gray and purplish and with red veins popping out. England and Romania have both tried to heal their friend's arm for him  several times but to no avail. And not even modern medicine could help the blond nation's arm. 

Prussia sat down on the only unoccupied seat in the room and stared at the Magic Trio.  He lifted an eyebrow. 

And so the first meeting to save the world began. 

Five more meetings followed,  the last having been canceled after Norway collapsed and went into a deep sleep and they suddenly found themselves without one more member. Until Sweden walked into England's house and offered himself as a sacrifice in place of his indisposed brother. 

England laughed, then cried and sure that Norway would hate him forever, he accepted Sweden into their group. 

And at last the fateful day came and Prussia, despite knowing full well that he would never see West ever again,  couldn't bring himself to say goodbye to his younger brother so like a cowardly thief,  he sneaked out of the house in the middle of the night. However,  Germany still caught him and after spouting bullshits,  he managed to get himself out of the house and take a midnight flight to London. 

Prussia hadn't really expected to survive the ritual. He and the others have been so sure that the spell would drain the nine of them of their magic and life in exchange for obliterating the creatures for them,  so he had been shocked to find himself floating on a raft in the middle of the sea, alive and only sunburned. 

"What happened after? " Germany asks, his throat dry. Prussia offers him a glass of wine and he gratefully takes it. He takes a sip of the rich sweet liquor to moisturize his throat.  

Prussia waves his right hand dismissively. "Two hours after I found myself laying on a raft in the middle of the sea , a ship full of pirates found me. They were all a horrible criminal bunch; cut-throats, thieves, plunderers and murderers,  you name it. I took them all down in an hour and killed their captain and First Mate. I was about to kill more but they began begging me for mercy. One even started calling me captain. That was when I remembered that I've never had any experience in maneuvering a ship like Spain and England and if I wanted to get on land then I needed help from those who have experiences with it.  So I agreed to spare their lives and in exchange I will be their new captain and we won't deal with slavers. Their captain's original plan was to sell me as a slave, can you believe that,  West?  The Awesome me becoming a slave? I'd kiss the Hungarian witch first before I became a slave! Hah! " 

Prussia sneers, his face dark with anger at the memory. 

Germany chews his lower lip. He takes a sip of wine from the glass in his hand again. "And what kind of other criminal activities do you and your band of pirates do, bruder?" he asks,  though he knows full well what kind of job being a pirate is. He knows his history and Spain would often tell him stories about fighting England many times during the Golden Age of Pirates whenever Spain visited Prussia's house when Germany was still a tiny wee nation. 

Prussia sees the expression on his younger brother's face and smiles sarcastically. "Oh come on,  West!  Surely you don't expect me to survive up to this point by being a goody-two-shoes and by always playing nice?  Let me tell you about my original jolly band of pirates. It took them only two years before they stabbed me on the back, mutinied and tried to kill me because I had kept them from plundering towns, killing innocent people and raping young girls. Long story short: they failed,  the Awesome me killed them by cutting the throats of half of them and throwing the other half overboard. But by then I've realized that I liked being a pirate and free to do whatever I wanted. It didn't take long for me to assemble another group of men who wanted to become pirates like me. We attack the other pirates who try to mess with us and plunder and sink their ships, we look for hidden treasures, and there are a lot of them out there, West!  and avoid the navy ships, which are all as stubborn and hard to kill as cockroaches and I let my men drink and whore and kill anyone who messed with them to their black hearts' content.

"Your Awesome big brother had killed people,  West, but only those who I knew deserved it. I can't play nice with everyone here because if I let my guard down even just once,  then I'll find my head separated  from the rest of my body."

Germany closes his eyes upon hearing the pain and self–mockery in his older brother's voice. "Bruder, come with me and  let's go back home, " he pleads. 

Prussia stares down at his brother. His eyes and smile both have become sadder. "Go home,  West. Go back home and take the others with you. Me and the others,  we've been gone for so long that I no longer believe that we still have a place back in our home world.  Our lands might reject us if we tried to get them back.  After all, we've all supposed to have already died three decades ago."

Chapter Text

Germany's eyes flash and he grits his teeth. "No, bruder. I won't leave you," he says.

Prussia shakes his head. "But you must, West. I and the others can no longer return to our world. I'm afraid that the spell might break if we go back."

"How would you know? Did England tell you that?"

"No, but it is possible. The spell was imperfect and there could be other side-effects that we don't know about yet. It's better to be safe than sorry. So forgive me, but I won't be coming with you," Prussia says firmly. 

He sighs. "And I already told you, I no longer have any connection with our lands. Going back will not give me my immortality back. At best, I will gain a human's lifespan and die in old age."

Germany's throat hurts. "What can I do to convince you to come back with me, bruder?" he asks in a small voice. The German Nation can still feel a little bit of hope and he refuses to give up on Prussia.

But Prussia shakes his head and looks out of the small circular window of his cabin. Both the sea and sky are calm, uncaring of the pain that slices in his chest as he witnesses his younger brother's pain. 

"I'm sorry, West, but my decision is final."

For the very first time since the end of World War II, Germany feels very angry at Prussia. Uncaring of his freshly applied bandages, he stands up on his feet and stares at Prussia furiously. "Then I will stay here with you," he declares,  his voice full of determination.

Prussia gapes at him, looking much paler than his own skin tone. He flails. "West, what the fuck?!"

"You heard me, didn't you? I'm not going back with the others as long as you stay here. I shall be staying here with you. Becoming a pirate is not something that I'd imagined taking as a profession but as you have told me before, I'm a fast learner," Germany says, crossing his arms and glaring at Prussia, crystal-blue eyes challenging his older brother to try in changing his mind in this matter. 

But both of them know that the younger Nation can be very stubborn if he really wants to accomplish something. 

Prussia looks at his brother's face and combing back his hair, he starts laughing, amused. "Seriously, West, when did you learn to be so stubborn? It must be that damned Austrian. I shouldn't have left the two of you alone whenever that darned guy visited our house. By the way, how is he and Hungary? Are the two of them still dancing around each other and preferring not to fuck their problems away?"

Germany winces a little at his older brother's crude words. Suddenly, he no longer feels like fighting and all of his anger evaporates after seeing Prussia's amused smile. 

"They miss you," Germany answers, "they also came here with me because they are looking for you."

If Germany were any other Nation, especially France or Spain , he would have started laughing at the incredulous expression on Prussia's face after hearing that his two arch-enemies are also willing to bet their own lives away just to search for him through other dimensions. But only a small smile, full of fondness, appeared on Germany's face.

"But they are also very angry at you, bruder. I've never seen Austria turn that shade of red before when he realized what you have done. And you should've seen Miss Hungary's face. She has scared everyone, even Turkey.

"Come home, bruder ," he insists, this time more softly. "Let's go back to our home with me. Or else I will stay here until Miss Hungary gets angry enough to start hunting us with her frying pan ready."

Prussia starts laughing.

"Are you really sure that it was Portugal whom you saw? But why would he run away after he saw you and Northern Ireland?"

Feeling frustrated, Scotland runs a hand over his hair. "Spain, I've already told you that it was  him that I and my younger brother saw! I know how to recognize that son of a bitch after seeing him come and leave Albion's house for over five hundred years! As to why he ran away after seeing us, I don't know. Antonio, you better start praying right now. I won't be the one who will find him next time because if I do, I will wring his neck."

Teary-eyed, Spain starts fidgeting. France puts a hand on his right shoulder in sympathy.

Spain rubs the tears from his eyes. He gives a smile that is obviously fake. "I know Henrique. He must have had a reason to run away when he saw you two. But I swear, when I see him again, I will make him regret ever making me worry like this." His smile turns so terrifying that everyone inside the room with them starts shivering. 

After walking for two hours around the town, the group of twenty-four dimensional-hopping nations found an inn large enough to accommodate all of them. After Scotland spent half an hour talking with the sour-faced proprietress, he got all six large rooms to sleep in and enough food for all of them to eat. 

The inn is also clean and their food and drinks are delicious, so nobody raised any complaints. Though it seemed that nobody wanted to be a target of Ireland's broiling  temper.

After most of their group had gone to sleep in their rooms, Scotland, Spain, France, Bulgaria and Ireland decided to stay up and talk about Portugal. 

"But you guys must also think that it is weird," Bulgaria says. "Why did Portugal decide to avoid both of you, Alistair? Is he hiding something? Norway told us that none of them ever expected to live after they activated the spell so something else must have happened to them after they became scattered in different dimensions. No matter what had happened after the spell activated, we all needed to find out because it might put not only Portugal and the others in danger but us too."

The others nod in agreement to Bulgaria's words, each one of them growing uneasy just imagining what sort of hardships and pains Portugal and the others have experienced for the past thirty years. Scotland's stomach starts to feel squeezy just thinking about England getting hurt more than the younger Nation can take.

England might be annoying, nagging and bossy towards Scotland and their other brothers and his scones can be poisonous to any healthy Nation, but he is still their brother. And damn Scotland if he failed to save him from wherever ruthless dimension his little brother has found himself in with his moronic selflessness.

Scotland inhales another smoke from his pipe and wills his heart to stop pumping so fast. This time, Ireland only turns away from Scotland and doesn't slap the pipe from his brother's hand. 

Scotland appreciates it. He really does. 

He blows a smoke towards Ireland and receives a glare in response. 

Okay, he shouldn't have done that.

The atmosphere in the room lightens. 

Just then, the room suddenly opens and Russia and America walk in side by side. Both have grins in their faces but Scotland notices the strain around their eyes. 

"Where have the two of you been?" he demands.

Russia's grin grows sharper but Scotland only feels an irritation for the childish display. He has spent centuries surrounded by big-headed empires with egos the size of Antarctica. Bloody hell, he used to be the half of one for over three centuries. None of them can intimidate him at all.

America puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "Dude, since both of us can't sleep in Russia here and I felt like getting some fresh air outside. But it was a good thing that we did, you know. Because we heard something really interesting from the locals," he explains in his usual cheerful manner, indifferent to the glares that Ireland has been sending him since he and Russia entered the room.

"And what can it be, ma Cherie ?" France asks with a smile, ever the peace-keeper in the room. 

"It's about our dear East Germany, dah, " Russia answers for America. "It sounds like Lil' Gil is out there playing the terror of the seas."

The pipe almost falls from Scotland's lips. 

Spain makes a squeaky sound.

France almost chokes. 

Ireland slowly breathes in and out, though the exercise seems to fail as he starts clenching his fists. "I'm going to kill him," he mutters, gritting his teeth.

Bulgaria feels like he is going to have a stomach ache. He no longer feels like imagining what Romania has been up to after hearing what Russia has just told them.

America chuckles. "I know, right? All of us have been busting our asses lately while looking for him and our hair is about to turn gray but it turns out that he is sailing around and proclaiming himself as the Pirate King ! Prussia is so funny, isn't he?"

France presses his face to his palms. " Mon dieu , Hungary is going to kill him," he laments.

Just as Scotland is beginning to muse about a murderous and Frying Pan-swinging Hungary chasing a cackling Prussia who is cladded in a complete pirate attire, he suddenly hears  loud shouts and screams from outside the window. 

He and the others run towards the window and open it. They are immediately met with a sight full of chaos and fires. The thick smokes and the smells of blood and carnage reach their nose. 

The town is under attack. 

Scotland put out his pipe and turned towards his companions. "Quick, go wake up the others and tell them that the town is under attack! Tell them that we should leave quickly!"

He is about to walk back towards the bed to pick his bag when a hand catches his left arm in a tight grip. He turns around and sees America standing right behind him, cornflower blue eyes flashing with grim determination. "No, we won't leave," the younger Nation says, glaring at Scotland with a fierce look that the redhead has only ever seen during WWII, when America saw the devastated London streets after the bombings. "We won't leave because we will help these people and look for the people attacking them. These people need our help, Alistair and I'll be damned if I run away like a coward when I know that I can save them all tonight because I am the hero!"

Scotland groans. This kid and his hero theatrics! He turns to the others who seem to have already decided that arguing with America will get them nowhere. 

"Okay, fine," he snaps. "We won't be leaving tonight! Mr Hero, go and wake up the others. All of you will protect the townspeople and help put out the fires while I'll be looking for whichever group is attacking the town and send Wales a message to tell him where I'll find them. Now go, go!"

America's answering smile is as bright as the sun and Scotland knows that he is going to have a headache later. 

Xxx

"Are you sure that you saw their faces clearly?"

"Of course I did, bunny! I wouldn't easily forget those shades of reds in my lifetime. What do you think I should do, bunny? Should I try to contact Prussia and inform him about this little mishap?"

"Don't. Let Prussia remain oblivious about our communication. We cannot contact him as we haven't found Sweden and the Philippines yet. You know that , Henrique."

"B-but, bunny, I don't think that Dolores and Berwald are still al–"

"Don't finish that sentence, Henrique. I am warning you that if you dare say such things to me again I'll get mad at you."

"But, b-bunny–"

"Stop. I don't want to hear it anymore. Just watch over my stupid brothers and the others but you must remember not to show yourself to them or try to contact Prussia. We have been doing this for decades, Henrique. Please don't do anything that will put everything we've done into waste."

"I understand. I'm sorry bunny."

".....Henrique?"

"Yes, bunny?"

"I'm sorry too. For everything."

"I know."

Chapter Text

Germany watches as the levity vanishes from Prussia’s face. Frowning slightly, Prussia looks at the window at the other side of the room. His red eyes glow eerily and whatever he is seeing on the horizon makes him swear venomously.

Germany's shoulders tense. “What is it, bruder? Are you sensing something bad?”

Instead of answering his younger brother’s questions, Prussia stands up from his seat. A grin, the kind of grin which Germany has only seen once and during the worst period of their lives, parts his lips and Germany shudders.

“It looks like another troublemaker has broken a law that I’ve put down again, West. Now it is time for me to remind them who rules these seas.”

Of course the attackers are pirates, Scotland thinks in annoyance as he cracks a pirate’s head, sending the fella into unconsciousness. 

When he and the other nations ran to the villagers’ aid, he should've expected to see pirates doing what they do best: lootin’, pillagin’ and rapin’ like ordinary pirates. At least it seems like Russia and his group has managed to stop the fire from further spreading around town and kept the damages low. 

Unlike England, Scotland has never taken an interest in pirates, even during the era called the Golden Age of Pirates in the eighteenth century. He’d been content on letting his younger brother deal with during his privateering period and kept himself busy with assisting the kings and queens with their government works. 

He’s never expected that he will one day deal with them. Fortunately for him and unfortunately for these bastards, Scotland hasn't forgotten how to fight. And these pirates are so laughingly weak that he quickly got bored.

However, there doesn't seem to be an end to them. Scotland has already lost count of the number of these lowly bastards he’s taken down along with the others. Hungary seems to be way more gleeful than normal to use her Frying Pan once more and Poland has found a sabre somewhere and is on the hunt for more of the scoundrels who’s disturbed his beauty sleep. 

And of course, America is amongst those who have taken the task of saving the panicking and injured population from both the fire and the bloodthirsty pirates who attacked their town.

While keeping an eye on the younger nation, Scotland notices that England's brat is paying more attention to the safety of the townsfolk than his own. Every action he makes is calculated and he keeps his strength low to keep his surroundings from becoming more devastated than it already is by the fire and the pirates. 

America is proving that he deserves the title of hero in this incident alone and Scotland can't help but be impressed with the young nation. 

No wonder that of all the nations who have come and gone through his life, England has chosen him. 

He is dusting his hands off while keeping an eye on the unconscious pirates on his feet when he suddenly hears a shrill cry. 

“Allistair!” 

Scotland turns around and sees Northern Ireland running towards him. He frowns; Northern Ireland should be with his group who are taking care of the injured inside the mayor's mansion. What is he doing here? 

“What are you doing here?” he grunts when Northern Ireland finally reaches him. He runs his gaze up and down his youngest brother. Although his hair, face, clothes and shoes are stained with ashes and smoke, Northern Ireland doesn't look hurt in any way.

“Allistair!” Northern Ireland gasps. His emerald eyes are glowing and his cheeks red flushed with excitement. “I can sense one of them. He’s here, brother! One of them is coming here!”

Scotland’s breath hitches.

As his ship sails towards the direction of the town where he’s sensed the disturbance coming from, Prussia thinks of the past and all the things he’s gone through since he made the fateful decision to join England and the others in sacrificing themselves so the rest of the world could survive.

Despite the thirty years which has passed since he made the decision to sacrifice his life for his younger brother, his people and his friends, becoming a pirate has been the last thing on his mind. In the past, he’d witnessed with his own eyes how much Spain had suffered thanks to England’s forces and he decided to let the other European nations fight for the right to conquer the lost colonies while he built the German Empire from the ground up. So aside from building his own navy, he’d never participate in whatever games the other empires were fighting amongst each other. 

He admits that taking the role of a pirate was easier than he thought at first. He has the skills, confidence and the swag to become a true pirate captain. He’s also proven himself to be ruthless enough that almost no other pirates have tried to take his title as the Pirate King in twenty-two years. Those who’d tried before are buried in the ocean floors, never to be seen or heard of again. Even after he's created many constricting rules which are the antithesis of the pirates’ essence, his reign remains untested. 

Until this year.

Prussia isn't sure where the newbies have come from but from the beginning of the year, he’s encountered several pirate groups who wanted to resurrect all stereotypes which come with their profession. They have neither fear nor respect for Prussia and his title as the King of Pirates and have tried to take him and his ship down. He’s already killed fifteen or more of these scoundrels but it seems like there isn't an end to their kind.

Germany soon joins him at the ship’s deck. All traces of vulnerability have been whipped off of him. He stands tall, his expression stoic and if not for his wrinkled white shirt and the bandages on his arms, Prussia could've thought that his younger brother is just attending another Summit meeting and isn't currently standing on a pirate’s ship instead. 

“West,” he begins, looking at the small island where his ship is going to. The small island is surrounded by five ships that are carrying a pirate's flag. He recognizes the flag. It belongs to the cruellest pirate of all the time. The one whom he’s been looking for in order to finish him and his pack of crazy pirates once and for all. “I am going to fight someone on that island soon and I need you to stay on the ship and join my men in defending it. Is that alright with you?”

But Germany shakes his head. “Bruder. I trust you. I trust that you can defend yourself. But I would also like to look for Italia and the others. So I want to go to that island with you.”

Prussia smirks. “So you can still sense the others even in this place. West, hey, why haven't you and cute Italy gotten married yet?”

Germany looks down. “We wanted to. Our nations have never been as aligned before and our bosses both think that we should tie the knot soon but Italy and I have been hesitating about it in the past few weeks. It wasn't until we regained our memories of you and the others whom we lost that we learned why.” He stares at the small island. “And yes, bruder. I know that they're on that island. I can feel Italia there. He’s afraid but is still keeping his head up. Whatever he is dealing with right now, I know that I can trust him to protect himself.”

Prussia grins proudly. “I see that the two of you have grown a lot, West.”