Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A stone tablet rested in the centre of a pedestal, a hole in the cave illuminating a spotlight over its surface, like a trophy for a champion. The silence of the cave was interrupted by a pair of footsteps crunching through the snow, replaced by the crisp shuffle of the stony ground as they approached the tablet in the centre.

“France, I found it!” A man called out to his companion, Britain huffed as he finally escaped the violent winds and snow. He didn’t have any time to fully prepare before everyone else arrived here. His frostbitten fingers slid under the tablet, wincing as the rough surface pricked his dry and sensitive fingers.

Britain held the cold World Tablet in his hands, his breath coming out in laboured puffs of white mist. He knew that the others were coming for it, including his son, but the destruction and death that came with its possession made it too dangerous for anyone to take.

“Are you out of your mind?” France stumbled into the cave soon after, shivering and annoyed, pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders, snow dusted over both of them. She sniffed, her eyes might have frozen if she hadn’t found the cave. “You grab me out of nowhere and then teleport us into some freezing ass storm, wander off into a cave—”

France paused as she saw the Tablet in Britain’s raw hands. “Is that?”

“The World Tablet.” Britain smiled as he showed the Tablet to France. The same artifact that brought him his glory, the same artifact that he fought, killed and tricked for. It was back in his hands, only this time for a different reason.

“I thought you were joking when you said they found it.” France stepped forward to take a closer look. The last time she held and used its power, she tried to take over all of Europe. It was a pity she could never use it again, and an even greater pity that they were here to destroy it for good.

Snow and icicles fell from the cave ceiling as the ground shook and Britain pulled France to the centre of the cave. Britain placed the Tablet back onto the pedestal, hands shaking as he placed his hands back on its sides, an action he once did without a second thought.

“You…are you serious?” France snatched Britain’s hands away, Britain frowned as her chilling palms came into contact with his skin. Her face was infuriated, fuming, as her eyes glowed bright purple. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”

The cave shook again, Britain scowled and tried to reach out towards the Tablet again only for France to block him. “Do you have a death wish? You know just as well as I do that using the Tablet again will kill you!”

Britain furrowed his eyebrows, sighing. “France, this is the only way.”

“By using the Tablet to destroy itself?” France said exasperated, her hair blowing as a fierce wind blew in. “There must be a better way!”

“I don’t see you offering to do it yourself!” Britain’s eyes shone with an unspeakable seriousness, he didn’t have the time to argue with France right now. He knew that the only reason why others hadn't reached the cave was because they were too busy fighting each other outside.

France was about to retort but Britain pushed past her, his hands glowing light blue as he placed his hands on the Tablet.

Memories flooded in, but Britain didn’t need those now so he shoved them out of his head. His eyes glowed a dulled blue, dimmer than in his prime but it was more than enough to activate the Tablet. The addictive surge of power flooding into his veins as blue wisps of energy weaved into the Tablet, Britain's eyes glazed over, losing his train of thought only for a short moment before focusing on channeling his power into the Tablet.

“Old man?” He looked up and saw his son dash into the cave, sunglasses frosted up and the snow in his indigo hair, pausing confused as he saw his father holding the Tablet.

“Hmph.” Another person appeared from a second cave entrance, long pure white hair gliding down her back as her cold sapphire eyes met Britain’s. He felt a slight chill go down his back and quickly looked away.

“It seems I’m last.” A lazy voice called from a third cave entrance, a young man in red with golden eyes strolled in. The Young Emperor China used his fan to sweep the excess snow off his hanfu.

“Hand the Tablet over.” America stepped forward, eyes deadly.

Britain wasn’t bothered despite being surrounded by some of the hungriest predators in the world, he hastened the process ignoring the pain in his chest from the sudden influx of energy going into his veins.

France stepped in front of his back, the purple glow in her hands solidifying into a blade. “What brings you here?”

“Are you seriously asking that?” America scoffed, approaching the Tablet. France kept her eyes on him as she readied to fight against the three of them.

Britain—no, all of them knew she wouldn’t stand a chance against even one of them, he bit his lip as the Tablet began to vibrate and hover into the air.

“What are you doing?” Russia spoke up, her eyes widening as Britain floated into the air along with the Tablet.

A small stream of blood trickled out of his mouth as Britain’s heartbeat rang in his ears, blocking out the sounds of the world. The world used to be his to command, and now he was destroying the exact thing that gave him the power to do so. The faint sound of shouting and screaming echoed at the edges of his ears as he saw America, Russia and China rushing forward towards him but that didn’t matter.

Britain clenched the Tablet and a shockwave shook the cave and knocked the three of them back. Britain dug his fingers into the Tablet, but the artifact resisted his intentions glowing fierce red in retort. Mixed violet cracks creeped along its surface as Britain began to bleed from his eyes and nose, exerting all the strength the Tablet gave him. Blue light bounced off the cave walls, glowing ever brighter as Britain shut his eyes.

He felt Tablet crumble apart in his hands, its pieces falling to the ground in deafening clatters.

Then silence.

“OLD MAN!” America lunged forward and grabbed his father by the collar, eyes fuming as a trail of smoke released from his mouth. “THE FUCK?”

Russia’s pupils trembled as she took in the broken Tablet, she shakily stood back up, eyes surprisingly holding some emotion.

“Tsk.” China scowled.

France shoved America off him, Britain coughed as he landed on the ground.

A broken Tablet wasn’t enough, he had to make sure it was gone.

With the last straws of strength the Tablet gave him, Britain swallowed down the nausea building in his throat and focused through the pounding headache. The pieces hovered into the air and Britain snapped his fingers, the artifact shards disappearing one by one—teleporting them away, all over the world.

France slowly picked him up and draped an arm over her shoulder, eyes softening with concern as she took in her old friend’s condition.

One thing left.

A glow, brighter than all those before lit up the cave, ice reflecting its light as it became a beacon amidst the dark of night. The light washed over all of them and Britain felt his feet leave the ground.

A snap echoed through the night, and they vanished.

***

Kaiser Germany held a cup of coffee as he listlessly stared out the window, the warmth of the morning sun against his face with the excited shouts of a game going down in the garden below echoing in his ears.

His adopted children Poland and Austria were engaged in a fierce game of tag as the winged child pounced on his younger brother and a burst of laughter filled the air.

The coffee had long since turned cold, but Germany took a sip nonetheless, immediately regretting it as he quickly set down the cup on his desk. He moved back to the window and looked back towards his two adopted children, eyes tired but amused.

The sudden sound of shattering violently interrupted the comfortable silence in the office, Germany scowled and turned back, his expression mixed with horror and annoyance as his coffee cup was broken into several pieces. Coffee dripped down his desk and stained the floor, with a rock proudly sitting on the porcelain shards.

“What the…” Germany was sure that rocks didn’t spawn out of nowhere, and he did a quick check to the ceiling just in case it fell from there. He narrowed his eyes, adjusting his glasses as he observed the rock, sharp edges with smooth surfaces like it was a shard from a large stone slab and a small amount of dark blue powder scattered across it.

As his fingers grazed its surface, his surroundings blacked out. Pictures flickered behind his eyes like a roll of film being rolled as jarring bright images flooded into his mind. 

Fleetingly, the darkness was swept away and Germany’s legs crumpled under him from the information overload. His fingers grasped to his desk and landed over the porcelain shards. He let out a quick string of curses and scrambling back onto his feet.

“My lord?” Berlin, his butler, knocked on the office door. “Are you alright?”

“Come in, Berlin.” Germany winced as his hand trembled, red blood dripping down his hand and onto the floor, mixing with the coffee in a disgusting puddle.

The culprit for all his current misery sat in the centre, a stupid rock. An artifact, his mind corrected. This was a piece of the fabled World Tablet. Germany pocketed the blasted rock before Berlin came in.  

“Oh dear.” Berlin clicked his tongue, frowning as he pulled Germany’s injured palm into his hands and examined the wound. He turned to the shattered coffee cup and then back to Germany with a disappointed sigh on his face. “Germany—”

“Berlin, I didn’t throw it. It just…broke.” Germany tried to explain, it wasn’t a good excuse but it was a more plausible explanation than ‘a piece of the World Tablet fell onto it, and it broke apart then my hand accidentally slammed on top of it.’

Berlin narrowed his eyes, sceptically nodding his head. “Mhm.”

“Please just help me patch this up.” Germany looked away, embarrassed. Berlin had watched him grow up so he had long accepted that the butler was his third parent.

“My lord.” Berlin moved to a bookshelf that held a first aid kit. “How about you have Young Master Poland heal it for you?”

A sudden lump formed in the back of his throat, Germany forced it down. “You know he hates me, he wouldn’t agree to do it.”

“My lord, he will keep treating you that way unless you reach out first.” Berlin shook his head, placing the kit down on the desk as a couple maids came in to quickly clean up the mess.

Germany’s gaze drifted back to the window. Austria was hiding behind a bush as Poland looked around, his eyes scanning the garden before trailing up the wall.

Their eyes met and Poland visibly flinched back as Germany’s breath hitched. Poland’s face quickly shifted into a hateful glare that locked onto guilt-ridden eyes, Poland coldly turned away as Germany’s heart sank further.

An edge of the artifact jabbed into his leg, a subtle reminder of its presence. He would have hurled it out the window if not for his brain screaming at him to not to every time the thought passed his mind.

Someone had shattered the World Tablet. The blue dust scattered around his desk told him more than enough about who it was.

***

Artifact piece locations:

Germany: 1
Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

Canada sprung out of bed as he heard a loud thud come from outside his bedroom, and considering he was on the third floor whatever that fell must have been quite large. At first, he brushed it off since his brother, America, used the chandelier as a thinking chair(Canada didn’t want to know how), so crashes and curses were a common occurrence in the household. Until he realized that America left for the Bering Strait for the World Tablet with no conceivable way to return this fast.

“Ame?” Canada groggily opened his room door, still in deer pajamas and glanced over the railing of the main staircase on the third floor.

No America underneath. 

And now something felt incredibly incredibly wrong. Canada raced down the stairs, sliding into the living room in a mild panic only to sigh exasperated as he saw a snow covered America flopped on his face on the carpet. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Canada rolled his eyes, approaching his brother and bending down to take a better look at him. A faint dark blue powder was dusted over America’s body, and Canada recognized it as the one that always appeared on a person after they were teleported by his father.

“Oi, sleepyhead.” Canada gently kicked America’s torso, expecting a curse or at least a whine. 

Nothing.

“America?” Canada flipped his brother over, broken sunglasses clattering to the floor. America’s fingers were stiff and ice cold, Canada placed his hands on his brother’s shoulders and shook America. His heart raced, America said it would be fine going alone since taking anyone else would take too long, but was it really alright going there without backup—

“Is that you Oz?” America groggily asked like he was waking up on a Sunday morning. His hand patting the ground next to him trying to find his sunglasses.

Canada slapped him across the face as America finally sprung up awake, clutching his cheek. 

“You jackass, what was that for?” America rubbed his sore cheek, before realising the snow, blue dust, and the pair of broken sunglasses next to him. “OH THAT DARNED OLD MAN!”

“Calm down, do you want to tell me what happened?” Canada tried to help his brother stand up, only for his brother to swat his hand away instead. 

“I was so close.” He furrowed his eyebrows, playing with the blue dust with his fingers. “It was right there, and then he fucking broke it!”

“Who’s he?” Canada went over to the kitchen to get a glass of water for his brother.

“Britain, that motherfucker.” America grabbed the glass of water out of Canada’s hand, chugging the whole thing and wiping his mouth before giving it back to his brother.

“Dad?” America always addressed their father by his name after leaving the family, Canada didn’t know why but it had to do a lot with the Grand Lady France’s influence.

“Yeah, that bitch.” America scowled.

It was hard to believe that his father would destroy the Tablet than let his prized son have it, Britain was almost addicted to using it. “Do you know why?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.” America shrugged off his jacket, snow falling everywhere. “That bitch teleported all the pieces away, so we’ve got to find them.”

“Wait what?” A jacket flew at his head, Canada ducked down and caught up to America who was climbing up the stairs. “Wasn’t it already destroyed?”

“Canada, shut up.” America rolled his eyes, kicking open his room door. 

America slammed the door right in Canada’s face, his eyes fell and he let out a deep sigh. His brother was too old to be throwing a tantrum, and it was always him who had to clean up America’s messes.

Canada went back down, turning on the roomba and tossing America’s jacket into the laundry hamper(that only he emptied). He would have appreciated at least a small mention of thanks or maybe even a good night but gratitude wasn’t exactly his brother’s strong point. 

Or maybe it was because Canada slapped him, yeah that wasn’t very nice.

“Why do I even bother?” He shut the door to his bedroom, flopping onto his bed. 

***

Little pockets of light poked through the leaves with the cool shade hanging over a tea party, Canada took in a breath of fresh air and took in a sip of tea, tasteless. Opposite him sat the Grand Lady France, her elegant silver hair drifting in the wind with her eyes glinting like little amethyst crystals.

“How have you been, Canada?” France smiled, her back leaning against her chair. 

“Just fine.” Canada felt something odd tug in his chest, a small weight dragging itself down, disagreeing with what he said.

“Do you know where we are?” France gestured at the gorgeous rose bushes that lined the garden wall.

“The Palace Garden.” Canada used to play here with his brothers, hiding behind the same spot behind the fountain almost all the time. “But I’m not actually here am I?”

France chuckled, and their surroundings warped into a twisted black space. Canada grabbed onto his chair, the tables and chair were still there, standing in a void. 

“Clever child.” She said. 

“You’re correct, this is a dream.” France stood up, taking something out from her pocket. 

A rock, smooth on its faces with rough edges like it was broken off, was placed on the table. 

“Do you know what this is?” France pushed it towards Canada.

Something caught in Canada’s throat as he took a closer look at the artifact. “It’s a piece of the World Tablet.”

“It is.” France tapped her finger against the table. “That old coot left it with me and told me to ensure that stupid stone slab never gets put back together or whatever, but I’ve got other ideas.”

“I’m giving it to you.” 

It took Canada a moment to process what he just heard. 

“I’m sorry, what?” His eyes widened as he looked at France, and then back at the artifact.

“It’s yours now.” She tilted her head towards the artifact and pushed it closer along the table to Canada.

“But America’s going after the Tablet as well, why would you…?” Canada recoiled.

“You want it, don’t you?” France grinned.

Canada swallowed, trying to hide his desperate eyes. France read him like a book, he knew the Grand Lady stopped by the Palace often, but they weren’t so close that she could practically know what was on his mind.

“Just one question.” Canada grabbed the artifact and held it, looking cautiously at France.

“Ask away.”

“Is my fa…Is his majesty alright?” Canada didn’t hear from his father often(or at all), but destroying a mythical artifact like the World Tablet must’ve taken a toll on his father.

France’s eyes sunk, before she quickly switched up into a smile. “Yes, he’s fine.”

As Canada was about to ask something else, white cracks began to emerge from the ground, creeping across the floor under his chair.

“Alas, our time is up.” France shook her head, standing up from the chair. 

He stood up to go after her, but a white light burst forth, Canada squinted through the brightness before he felt his feet leave the ground. “Wait!”

***

“France!” Canada sprung up from his bed, the light from the window brutally signalling the morning. That one annoying bird began chirping like an unstoppable alarm outside and Canada dragged himself out of bed. As he pushed himself up, he felt the rough texture of a rock in his hand and looked down. 

“Hey Canada.” His bedroom door burst open and Canada quickly shoved the artifact under his pillow.

“Yeah?” He narrowed his eyes, clearly the new ‘please knock’ sign he placed on the door didn’t work. 

“I want pancakes.” America hopped onto his bed, lying flat horizontally. 

“Get off.” Canada lightly pushed him off as America rolled and plopped onto the floor, swiftly checking that the artifact was actually hidden.

America pouted as he got back on his feet and left, leaving Canada’s room door wide open. Canada shut the door and double checked it was locked before taking out the artifact again. There wasn’t exactly a safe place he could leave it but keeping it with him wasn’t a good idea either since it would poke out of his pocket. 

Canada glanced around, eyes landing on a small beaver fur pouch that used to be a hat he had as a child that he quickly outgrew. He stuffed the artifact in and zipped it up, ensuring nothing poked out.

***

“Took you long enough.” America sighed, leaning back against the couch. Canada was glad America looked better than he did last night, seeing him so cold and pale nearly gave him a heart attack. 

“Pancakes?” 

“Nah, not feeling it.” America shrugged, pushing his sunglasses back in place. “Maybe just cereal.”

“Then make it yourself.” Canada popped two pieces of bread in the toaster.

“Last time I tried that, I burned the milk.” America lit a small flame on his finger, holding it dangerously close to the cushions. 

“Why did you put the milk in a frying pan anyways?” 

“I wanted a bigger bowl but then remembered I broke it.” America sat up. “The pan seemed like a good idea at the time.”

It was too early in the morning for this bullshit.

Once the toast popped out, Canada transferred it to a plate and sat down at the dining table. America joined him, Canada pretended not to see his brother swipe a piece of toast from his plate. He subtly pushed the small pouch slung around his neck closer to him, a little further from America’s reach.

“About the Tablet.” Canada started, keeping an eye on his brother’s reaction. America didn’t seem as edgy as he was last night, prompting him to continue. “You said dad broke it?”

“Hmph.” America gnawed on his toast. “Yeah.”

“Do you—” 

“I think there’s another reason behind it.” America interrupted him, rapping his knuckles on the table. His brother probably spent a good time on the chandelier thinking again this morning. “Sure there is the ‘it causes too much damage and has to be broken’ bullshit that that hypocrite would spew but it feels like there is something else I’m missing.”

Canada’s hand went to his little pouch just to confirm again that it was still there.

“He teleported the pieces away.” America began to pick at his skin and Canada swatted his hand away, a nervous habit Canada tried to make him ditch. “There must be a reason the pieces can’t be together.”

“The World Tablet can be fixed?” The words came out before Canada registered them in his head. 

“Bingo.” America made a finger gun and shot it at Canada. “That’s why that old fart almost killed himself trying to teleport those darn pieces.”

‘Almost killed himself’? But France just told him that his father was fine. Canada shook his head, he would just ask France in person next time. 

“Did you already alert the guild to go find the pieces?” 

America, despite how reckless and annoying he was, was the Guildmaster of the Liberation Guild, with Canada as his right hand man. The same man who stopped Soviet, defeated Nazi Germany and is the(unofficial) Crown Prince of the British Empire was the same idiot of a brother who somehow managed to burn milk and sat on chandeliers. 

“I did, but they’re too slow.” America leaned forward, Canada caught the little scheming glint in his eyes. “I’ve already got a pretty good idea where one of the pieces are.”

Canada’s heart pounded in his head, did America know? His hand moved to his pouch as he tried to seem as nonchalant as possible. America couldn’t have known, it was a private dream between France and him—

“Germany.” America clapped his hands together and leaned back, fingers pointing to the ceiling. “I’m sure it's with him.”

All the adrenaline sunk back down and Canada felt his elevated pulse, he discreetly wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and finished up his toast. “How so?”

“You know how Nazi Germany was one of the people who got their hands on the Tablet?” 

Canada winced and choked down an unpleasant memory. Their father loved to drag his ‘children’(orphans from the Commonwealth orphanage) alongside him in battle.

“No one would trust any member of that family to ever hold the Tablet after all the damage it caused in Nazi’s hands.” America said. “So that old coot sent it there thinking no one would ever suspect that it's with Germany.”

“That’s…” Actually now that Canada thought about it his brother wasn’t completely making a shot in the dark. “Possible?”

“Of course it's possible.” America stuck his nose into the air. “I’m never wrong.” 

“Burnt milk.”

“Shut up.” America snapped.

“So when are we leaving?” Canada walked over to the sink. Surely his brother was still exhausted from fighting for the Tablet yesterday.

“Is now a good time?” 

If Canada didn’t have a better grip the plate might have just fallen and shattered onto the floor. “What?”

“We can leave now.” America shrugged. “I’ve got guild branches all over the world, and they can cover up our search for the artifacts.”

“Yeah, but now?” 

“Mhm.”

Canada deadpanned to America, hoping this was some sick joke. There was no way he was going to leave the country for a rock, yes he knew it was an artifact of the World Tablet, but this was too out of the blue. 

***

“I HATE YOU!” Canada screamed, he clung tightly onto his brother, eyes shut as his hair wildly rushed around him. He hoped the artifact didn’t fall out from the pouch, but he was too scared to check. 

“WHAT? CAN’T HEAR YOU!” America irritatedly shouted back as they zoomed through the air, he used specially crafted boots that used his fire abilities to propel him into the air. Canada always wondered how his sunglasses stayed on whenever he flew. 

At the speed America was going at, they might reach Germany’s land before afternoon. But every nightmarish second he spent up in the air with the low chance that his brother might drop him(which has happened before) felt like an eternity that he shouldn’t experience. 

If only his brother didn't have stupid aerophobia, then they could have just taken a plane like normal people. 

No, no what was he thinking? He couldn’t blame his brother for being like that, that wasn’t right. 

“How much longer?” He tried to shout over the rushing wind, and of course, his brother didn’t hear him.

This was going to be a long day. 

***

Artifact locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

“Touch down!” A cloud of smoke and dust were thrown into the air, and if it weren’t for America’s sanity actually mending itself for a second and allowed him to land like a sane human, Canada’s skull might not have been in one shape.

“Canada?” America placed his brother’s stunned and frozen body upright, a blank look on his brother’s face. “You’re looking a little green.”

He was dragged through the air across the world in a matter of minutes and probably left his breakfast and brain back in their house. 

“No.” Canada squeaked, shoving down the bile in his throat. It didn’t matter how many times America did it, he would never get used to it. “Where are we?”

“The Guild branch headquarters.” America said. 

Once the dust had cleared, Canada could see that they landed in the surprisingly well-maintained garden in the courtyard, much unlike its equivalent in the main guild headquarters. 

Loud footsteps clicked down the corridor, growing increasingly faster as a figure rounded a corner and dashed straight up to the two brothers. 

“FOR THE LAST TIME!” America didn’t have time to react before a book was clocked on his head and he landed on his ass. A woman the height of a young girl stood over him, waving a book in her hand, fuming. “THERE IS A LANDING PAD FOR A REASON DON’T YOU DARE—”

“Hi there Belgium.” Canada gingerly backed away, not wanting to suffer the wrath of the book. 

“Guild Secretary Canada.” Belgium’s eyes narrowed, before focusing back on the Guildmaster and bludgeoning his head with the book again.

“Quit hitting me before I burn that fucking thing and your beloved garden to the ground.” America hissed, small sparks lighting up between his fingers. 

“Fuck off.” Belgium growled, raising her hand to take a swing again.

“Let’s break it up here, how about that?” Canada would rather not have to deal with another arson report.

“You get off this time.” Belgium rolled her eyes and stepped away, much to Canada’s relief. “Count your blessings.”

“Feh.” America scoffed, picking himself up and dusting off. “Can you arrange a meeting with Germany?”

“With the Kaiser?” Belgium frowned, flipping open the thick book in her small hands and pulling a pen out of her hair. 

“I need it within the hour.”

That earned America another book to the face. 

“DO YOU THINK I CAN JUST PULL MIRACLES OUT OF MY HAIR?” Belgium roared, rearing her head back. Canada swore he saw little flames in her eyes and smoke trailing out of her ears.

“This is about the artifact pieces.” Canada informed her, which got the hotheaded branchmaster to back off. “We have reasons to suspect that a piece is with the Kaiser.”

“Reasons being?” 

Canada pulled his brother upright. “I’ll give you a list later, most of it is a surprisingly decent guess from him.”

Belgium’s eyes flicked between Canada and America, sighing as she readjusted her glasses. “I’ll get you that meeting.” 

Belgium walked off, muttering something about ‘not being paid enough’ as she slammed the double doors in the courtyard behind her, leaving the two brothers to themselves again. 

***

Austria was 90% sure doors couldn’t talk and certain that they didn’t have two voices. 

“America, we can’t just walk in.” 

“But we have an appointment.” 

“That doesn’t mean you can break open their gates.”

“Young Master Austria, what are you doing here?” Berlin, the head butler, placed a hand on the prince’s shoulder. 

“Berlin, who are they?” Austria gestured to the double doors, before realising that the voices were coming from the front gates and not behind the door, and that he was the only one who could hear them with his abilities. He amplified the voices so that Berlin could hear them, the older man’s eyebrows furrowing. 

“Oh dear.” Berlin sighed, glancing at his watch. “Already? Better inform—”

“No need, Berlin.” An exhausted voice Austria recognized as his father’s called from above the massive staircase in the middle of the great hall. “I expected this.”

His father’s weird shadow powers were spread all over the entire palace(except the bathrooms) that could see what happened wherever a shadow was. Austria knew that his father always kept an eye on him and Poland through their shadows(a secret Germany made Austria swear to never tell Poland). 

“Dad?” His father’s eyebags were darker than the last time he saw them. 

“Go play with Poland.” Germany gave a tired but kind smile to Austria as he made his way down the stairs. 

“Who are they?” 

“Important guests.” He heard the slight shift in the wind from the small tremble in his father’s fingers that betrayed the calm expression Germany wore.

Austria tried to reason, but a sharp glare from Berlin made all the courage in him melt away. “Alright…” 

***

Surprisingly enough, the gates actually did open despite them arriving way earlier than they should thanks to America’s impatience. Canada was probably never going to hear the end of Belgium’s lecture for America that he would be forced to sit through regardless of whose fault it was. 

“See, it worked.” America gestured at the onyx gates creaking open and sauntered through, acting like he owned the place. 

Canada caught up to his brother, a small bit of trepidation gnawing in his chest. He didn’t want America to start another argument he had to deal with knowing how his brother had almost no filter, no patience, definitely no negotiation skills and so much pride that the sin himself would hand its crown over in a heartbeat. 

Canada was positive that the Kaiser, though not as hot headed as his older brother, would decline his brother’s demand to hand over the piece of the artifact they weren’t even sure he had. Add on the fact that his brother could set the entire palace on fire if he lost his temper(Canada prayed they had a fire extinguisher nearby), high chance they were probably going to get kicked out.

The doors opened before America could kick them open, and an exhausted but firm Kaiser stood in the centre of the great hall with his butler next to him. 

“Guildmaster America.” Germany narrowed his eyes, his voice holding hints of annoyance and discomfort which to be fair Canada couldn’t blame him. 

“Nice to see you again, Germany.” America waved. Either Germany’s clear irritation of him slid right off his smooth brain or he ignored it. 

“Kaiser.” Canada bowed, trying to make up for his brother’s lack of manners.

“Guild secretary.” Germany gave a somewhat genuine smile, before the glint of a glare flickered in his eyes as America hooked an arm around his shoulders. 

The angry Kaiser pushed America away, not too hard that he would fall on the ground but enough so the guildmaster got the memo. 

“Sheesh you’re no fun.” America said, shaking his head. 

“Ame—Guildmaster.” Canada sighed, tugging America’s collar back to give Germany the space he deserved. “We apologise for our sudden arrival, but our guildmaster has some private matters to discuss with the Kaiser.”

“I am well aware.” Germany answered, his face practically shouting dread for the meeting. “If you would, Berlin.”

“Follow me.” Berlin held out a hand as he led us towards what Canada assumed was Germany’s office. 

Canada remembered storming the palace along with his father and brother and shrinking back when they passed halls with human heads hung up on walls like trophies. In an effort to remove any trace of the former Kaiser, Germany had changed every bit of wallpaper and burnt the human taxidermy. 

“My lord.” Berlin opened the door, and Canada was about to follow his brother in before a hand stopped in front.

“Sorry Canada, but you’ll have to wait outside for this.” America unapologetically grinned as he lightly pushed his brother back. Canada was too stunned to speak as the door was closed for the second time in his face as he blankly stared at the door. 

“Did that bastard just—” Canada blinked twice before mentally kicking himself for swearing. He realized that the head butler, Berlin(he recalled being punched in the face by him once during the war) was still there.

“If I may, Guild Secretary.” Berlin looked significantly more relieved once America was gone. “Is the Guildmaster always like this?”

“Regrettably so.”

***

Canada mentally kicked himself again, it was the third time he had passed the same painting in the main hallway after trying to find his way back to the library from the washroom. Berlin had kindly offered for him to rest at the palace library while waiting for the Kaiser and America to finish their meeting and it felt too embarrassing to ask for directions to the washroom so he snuck out after Berlin had left. 

“And now I’m lost.” If America ever found out about this, he would have a field day. “Great.”

He heard some faint voices from down the hallway, to which he figured that he could probably ask them for directions. 

“Austriaaaaaaa, quit using your abilities, that's cheating!” A young boy yelled, Canada turned the corner to see the entrance to a massive garden, not as large as the one in the royal palace close enough to rival the one in the branch guild headquarters. 

The boy skidded to a stop as he caught sight of Canada, who was still staring slightly slack jawed in the garden entrance. He had two wings on his back, both torn, but one more severely than the other, Canada suddenly had a very good idea who the boy was. 

“Who are you?” The boy’s eyes narrowed, Canada flinched back at the daggers the boy was glaring at him. 

“I’m the Guild Secretary of the Liberation Guild.” Canada shook out of his daze before slowly approaching the boy. “Accompanying the Guildmaster for a meeting with the Kaiser, and you are?” 

“Not telling.” The boy crossed his arms. 

“Poland, prince of the Kingdom of Darkness, right?” Canada chuckled lightly at Poland’s behaviour. 

“Don’t call me a prince.” Poland growled. 

***

Artifact locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

“Just go back where you came from.” Poland scoffed, turning away. Canada winced at the cold shoulder the prince gave him, all he wanted were a couple directions.

“Can I at least have a couple directions to the library?” Canada asked. It wasn’t like a palace came with maps and direction arrows. “Please?”

A murderous glare was Poland’s response. 

“Alright, alright got it.” Canada raised his hands, backing away. Guess he wasn’t finding his way back any sooner. “Sorry for bothering you.”

From what Canada knew of the prince, he was one of Nazi Germany’s first puppets of the Second Great War and stayed that way until Soviet came and freed him. The current Kaiser adopted him and Austria soon after the war ended but not much else was known about their relationship with each other. 

“Wait!”

Canada nearly jumped out of his skin as his train of thought was jarringly interrupted. He turned around to see Poland fidgeting with his fingers.

“Could…” Poland gritted his teeth, eyes trained at his shoes, as if regretting calling out. “Could you help me find Austria? Then…then I’ll help you find the library.” 

A light chuckle escaped from Canada’s mouth and he watched the young prince’s face flush rose red. He didn’t know what sparked Poland’s sudden change of heart, but he wasn’t complaining. 

“Alright.” He smiled, jogging over to Poland’s side. 

***

If there was one thing Germany hated more than talking to people, it was people judging and poking around his stuff and wasting time. 

“Gotta say, I like what you’ve done with the place.” The moment the pesky Guildmaster shut the door, he hopped right onto one of the couches in the office and kicked his legs up on one of the armrests. 

Germany shoved down the urge to throw the man right out, but he owed America an almost lifetime amount of debt after the Second Great War for killing the former Kaiser. He took a seat opposite the Guildmaster hiding the animosity that was blatantly shining through. 

“What is the reason behind your sudden visit?” He was told just half an hour ago about his meeting with America despite  appointments usually being scheduled at least the day before. 

“Ah well, you see unless you’ve been living under a rock you would have heard of the destruction of the World Tablet.” America shrugged and sat upright. Germany tensed slightly, cold sweat building at the back of his neck. An artifact piece was still in his possession, something that America shouldn’t have known.

“I have, but what does this have to do with me?” Germany readjusted his glasses. 

“Well you see, my father was the one who did it but his last move was to teleport all the pieces to who knows where.” America tapped his fingers against his thigh. “So no one would be able to repiece the Tablet together.”

Germany cursed internally, America had found out about Britain’s intentions in the span of a single night and somehow knew or assumed he had one despite his family’s previous relationship with the World Tablet. “And you need my help to find the pieces?” 

“The Guild is already working on locating the pieces.” America grinned, only unnerving Germany more. 

“Then—”

“Germany, you’re a clever man.” Germany stiffened at the sudden sharpness in America’s voice, his sunglasses somehow making his cold stare even more piercing. “I believe I shouldn’t drag this on any longer.”

“You have one of the artifacts, don’t you?” America leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs, fingers laced together with a calm smile on his face. 

“I…” Germany took in a deep breath to regain his composure, America could just be trying to sound him out. “No, I don’t have any of the artifacts.”

“Is it in this room?” America stood up, Germany moved to step in his way but was easily brushed aside. “How many people know?”

America’s eyes focused on the wound on Germany’s palm before the Kaiser hid it behind his back, then at the almost unnoticeable stain on the floor of the office. “It fell in here…last night maybe, this morning?”

“Broken teacup.” Germany said, trying not to show any cracks in his calm facade, growing harder to keep together as America approached his desk, or more specifically, a drawer that held the—

A loud shockwave rocked the palace followed by a bone-chilling scream echoed, Germany darted to the windows, eyes widening as he saw the garden below completely ruined and left in a crater. 

“Poland.” His heart fell. “Austria.”

“Germany.” America grabbed onto his shoulder before he could run off. “How much does this window cost?”

“Why does that matter?” Germany yelled, trying to shake out of America’s shockingly strong grip. His children might be were definitely in danger, and this man was asking about a window.

“The guild will pay for damages later.” America pulled his fist back, letting go of Germany’s shoulder as he broke through the window, jumped through it and landed in the garden courtyard below. 

“Dammit.” For a moment Germany considered bashing his head against the wall, but there was a time and place for that and here and now his children were in danger.

He leapt out the window, grabbing onto the branch of a tree and nearly twisting his ankle as he landed. Most of the other trees were uprooted and blown off into the walls, the pond in one of the corners had a side blown out as water dampened the loose soil into mud with fishes flopping on the ground. 

“Mom liked this garden.” He said bitterly, dashing towards the Guildmaster who stood in the middle of the ruins, his heart racing as he tried to find his children among the mess.

“POLAND! AUSTRIA!” He called out. No response.

“That’s weird.” America muttered to himself. “Canada’s usually here when things like this happen.”

“My lord!” Berlin rushed out, disheveled.

“Berlin, have you seen Poland or Austria in the palace?” Germany prayed that his children weren’t anywhere near the garden when this happened and to his dismay Berlin shook his head.

Who was he kidding, the moment he heard the scream he recognized it was Poland’s. And of course it was daytime, his abilities always worked best at night. 

America knelt down, eyes frowning as he picked up a small white eagle keychain. “This is…”

Germany violently snatched it out of the guildmaster’s fingers, a pang of anger and fear coursing through him as he recognised the small charm Poland always wore on his bracelet. 

“Shit.” He cursed quietly. 

Then he remembered the other one who had followed America, Canada was his name right? “Berlin, have you seen the Guild Secretary anywhere?”

“He was last seen in the library.” Berlin frowned and turned to another servant behind him. 

The servant shook her head. “The Guild Secretary wasn’t there.”

America had wandered off towards another corner of the garden, examining the destroyed flower bushes a little too intently before stepping over them. “Anyone missing a kid with red hair?”

Germany had never ran so quickly for anything in his life, leaping over the bushes and landing next to America who was standing before his bruised and battered son lying on the ground. 

“Austria.” He knelt down and cradled the boy, a slight wave of relief flowing through him before the anxiety of where his other son was quickly took over. Austria stirred gently in his arms, eyes weakly blinking open with tears.

“Papa.” Germany pulled Austria close to his chest, where his son clung to his vest and cried. 

“You must have been so scared.” Germany patted Austria’s back, trying to calm his son’s breathing while keeping down his own tears. 

Austria bobbed his head up and down, arms wrapping around his father’s neck as Germany carried him up and out of the bushes. 

Berlin came over to carry Austria over to a medic, but the boy clung to his father. Germany chuckled. “It’s alright Berlin, I’ve got him. Please keep looking for Poland.” 

Mentioning his older brother sent Austria burrowing closer to his father, eyes brimming with tears again. 

“Austria, what’s wrong?” 

“Papa, I…” Austria took a deep breath. “Poland…”

He paused, voice choked.

”Someone took him.”

***

Artifact locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

“Poland was taken?” Germany’s eyes widened, his heart rate escalated in relief and dread. Austria bobbed his head up and down violently, tears brimming again in his eyes. 

“You can tell me later, let’s get you looked at first.” As much as Germany wanted to know where Poland was, he needed to focus on the things in his control. 

A faint roar of thunder boomed through the dark clouds that rumbled over the palace and Germany brought Austria inside to the palace infirmary. 

A downpour soon followed, and America and Berlin entered the infirmary as Austria was being patched up. Germany sat down nearby, trying to shove down the urge to punch the wall. 

“Whenever you're ready, Austria.”

***

(Flashback to half an hour ago)

Austria hid behind a shrub near the back corner of the garden, a place they usually avoided hiding in since the bushes made lots of noise when they tried to hide there. But thanks to a trick he learned last night that silenced his footsteps and surroundings, Poland now had no chance of finding him.

After watching his brother search aimlessly for a few minutes, some stranger walked into the garden during their game, and to Austria’s surprise, Poland actually allowed him to stay. 

“Hmph, he never lets papa play with us.” Austria pouted, peering between the leaves to get a better look at the stranger, who had a lighter shade of red hair than him. “What’s so different about him?”

And to Austria’s annoyance, Poland and the stranger seemed to be chatting a lot. Almost as if Poland forgot about their game.

“Next time I’ll leave him and see how long it takes for him to realize.” He grumbled. 

He cupped his ear with his hand and amplified the sound(the same thing he did to hear the people at the gates earlier). If Poland forgot about him then at least he would entertain himself by eavesdropping on their conversation.

“So what is the Guildmaster like?” That one was his brother’s voice.

“Well he’s talented and clever seeing as the Liberation Guild is now among the top guilds around the rest of the world.” The stranger said. Austria didn’t know how to explain it, but he swore he heard Germany speaking like that whenever Austria asked about their uncle, with a smile on his face, but with little crackles of bitterness and anger at the edge of their voices. 

“You know—LOOK OUT!” Austria himself flinched back as the stranger suddenly pulled Poland back. 

Another stranger, this one way bigger than the other one, landed quietly in the centre of the garden from the sky without a sound. It was a little hard to see with all the leaves in the way, and he knew he should have run to Berlin or another servant to inform them about the big stranger but something inside Austria screamed at him not to leave his hiding spot. 

“Stay back, Poland.” The smaller stranger placed a protective hand in front of his brother. 

“Ah, so that one is the prince. Well that makes my job a whole lot easier.” The bigger stranger cracked his knuckles and in a blink of an eye, lunged towards his brother, ignoring the smaller stranger entirely. 

The smaller stranger pushed Poland behind him and hopped high into the air, landing on the bigger stranger’s back. He delivered a swift blow at the back of the bigger stranger’s head. 

“Tch.” It didn’t seem to affect the bigger stranger all that much, in fact, all it did was aggravate him. “Such a nuisance.”

The bigger stranger grabbed the smaller stranger’s entire head in his hand, bashed it into the ground and lifted the unconscious stranger up by the head like a ragdoll.  

“CANADA!” Poland yelled, his tattered wings spreading to their full wingspan. “Let him go!”

The stranger effortlessly tossed Canada away and grabbed onto one of Poland’s wings. Poland immediately swung back, whipping out a leg and nailing the stranger in the jaw.

The stranger pulled Canada off the ground by the collar and held something to his neck. “Listen here, if you don’t want him to die then you’re going to follow me. No tricks, no resistance.”

Poland gritted his teeth, before reluctantly shrinking his wings back into his back. 

“Good choice,” The stranger grabbed firmly onto Poland’s shoulder, Canada still dangling in his other hand.

“Let Canada go.” Poland demanded.

“And risk you fighting back and hurting yourself?” The stranger smirked darkly, sending shivers down Austria’s spine. “The Tsarina would kill me.”

“Ah, one more thing.” The stranger clicked their tongue. He stomped one foot on the ground, sending cracks creeping along the soil and concrete. “I better drop this off.”

***

(Present)

“Then he jumped really high into the air, and then a big blast made the garden start to blow up… and everything hurt.” Austria finished, curled up in a ball in his father’s arms.

Germany patted his son’s head. “Thank you for telling us.”

“But I was too scared.” Austria began to sob. “Poland…at least he tried to fight back, if I had tried to call someone over or sneak away then maybe…”

“He might have taken you too, Austria.” Germany said. “There are simply some things that will happen no matter how much we think we could have changed it.”

“Mhm.” Austria weakly nodded, closing his eyes. 

“Berlin, carry him back to his room.” Germany fondly stroked the hair of his sleeping son and passed him over to the Head Butler, the soft gaze in his eyes sharpening into fury.

Another servant entered the room, holding out a small, rectangular device in her hand. “We found this in the garden, sir.”

Germany took it, eyes widening in recognition before furrowing in anger. “Dammit.”

“Hmm?” America swiftly swiped it from his hands, and frankly, Germany had forgotten the noisy guildmaster was with him. 

“A two-way communicator, used by…the Pale Empire during the Second Great war.” Germany frowned, recalling how he picked them apart to figure how they worked. 

“The Pale Empire…that’s Soviet’s territory right?” America stiffened. 

“Now the Tsarina Russia’s after he passed.” Germany said. 

A light on the communicator blinked red and America handed it back to Germany, who pressed a button near the edge of the device. 

“How are you, Kaiser Germany?” A voice mocked from the other side and Germany saw red.

It was that voice, the one that almost killed him during the war. 

“Stalingrad, how are you still alive?” Germany spat, the last shreds of his self-control going into not crushing the communicator in his hand. 

“Actually, it’s Volgograd.” 

“What is this, revenge for your father?” The lights in the room began to flicker violently as Germany’s rage built up. 

“As much as I would like to avenge my father upfront, that isn’t the intention of my call today.” Volgograd’s voice dripped with venom. “You see, there is something the Tsarina is looking for, something that many people are fighting for all around the world.”

“I’ll cut to the chase, The artifact in exchange for your son.” Volgograd said. “And don’t even try denying you have it unless you want your son to have one useless wing instead of two flightless ones.”

“Tomorrow at Sundown, at the border between the Pale Empire and the Empire of Darkness. That’s where the exchange will take place.”

Germany grinded his teeth so hard they creaked.

“No negotiations. No funny business. You come alone.”

“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” America interrupted, raising a finger. Germany nearly threw the communicator at him. “But do you happen to have a guy with slightly pinkish hair, kinda skinny and has a beaver pouch thing?”

“Hello again, Guildmaster.” Volgograd said with a smile in his voice. “Yes we do.”

“OI CANADA! IF YOU CAN HEAR ME JUST HANG IN THERE—!” America shouted into the communicator, to which the red light stopped blinking and Volgograd hung up.

Germany snatched the communicator out of the guildmaster’s hands and crushed it in his grip, ensuring to snap apart the hidden tracker near the middle of the device.

Of all the people it could have been, his son was in the Pale Empire’s hands. “Dammit.”

“Well that sucks.” America shrugged. 

“That. Is such an understatement.” Germany slumped into a nearby chair and grabbed his head in his hands. 

“You aren’t going to do anything about it?” America tilted his head, confused. 

“This is the Pale Empire we’re talking about.” Germany grumbled. “Last time I checked, they aren’t exactly people you can do much against.”

“You’d be surprised at how easy it is to mess with them.” America placed his hands behind his head and leaned back. 

Germany growled. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Germany, who am I?” America tilted his sunglasses down, his crimson eyes shining with an unfamiliar cunning glint. “I am the Liberation Guildmaster, Head of the world’s largest guild that happens to specialise in information and sabotage.”

“Are you suggesting that I hire the Liberation Guildmaster himself to help find and rescue my son?” Germany stood up, glaring America down. 

“At a little piece of the World Tablet.” America smirked, not backing down. “Whaddaya say, Kaiser Germany?”

Germany gritted his teeth, closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before opening them. “Two conditions. One, I follow along, and two, you get the artifact after the rescue mission.”

“Sure.” America held out his hand and gave a genuine smile, which somehow felt even more uncanny. “Pleasure doing business.”

“Hmph.” Germany shook his hand.

***

Artifact locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

Finland shoved the door open and slammed it shut behind him. He threw his ski goggles aside, pulling off his gloves and shrugging off his winter jacket. 

First a rock came out of nowhere and destroyed a perfectly good bottle of vodka(he hadn’t even opened it), then he got assigned a stupid job by Britain(he didn’t even know the guy that well) and now the Pale Empire was getting closer and closer to his doorstep. 

“I’ve had to leave 4 times today just to chase them out.” He complained to the walls. Somehow the Pale Empire had discovered that an artifact was in his possession not even a week since the World Tablet was shattered and its pieces were scattered everywhere.

He was probably going to wake up to a robbery tonight.

“It’s always someone else.” He sighed resignedly, shaking his head and opening one of his numerous boxes of vodka, not bothering to take out a cup. The usual peace and quiet he used to enjoy was smashed to pieces just like that poor bottle of vodka.

It neither occurred to him that the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees nor that he wasn’t alone.

“May I have some?” A frosty and sharp voice asked from behind him.

His body stiffened. No one should be able to get near him without him noticing after years of him honing his skills as a sniper. It was this voice too, it sounded too similar to that monster of a man, Soviet.

“Tsarina Russia.” Finland calmly turned around and crossed his arms.

A woman with cold sapphire eyes and long glittering silver hair leaned back on his armchair, wearing a military uniform way too similar to the one her father had with an ushanka resting on her lap. “Just Russia is fine.”

“So, what do I owe the honour of having your presence at this humble cabin?” He was too sober for this bullshit.

“Father always said that the vodka at your place tasted the best.” Russia said and Finland tossed her a bottle, which she caught in one hand.

Finland sat down in the armchair next to hers and pulled out the cork, chugging the entire bottle in one gulp. A warmth and buzz rushed through his body. He didn’t recall having a drink with Soviet, but then again he didn’t really remember things that didn’t happen. “Did he say that?”

“He said lots of things, mostly stories.” Russia gracefully pulled out the cork and drank a good half of the bottle. “It seems that this was one of the few truths he did tell.”

“I’m know you aren’t just here for vodka.” Dammit he needed another bottle to deal with this.

“Hmm.” He didn’t like the sudden glint in Tsarina's eyes as she hummed, or the way he felt like a tiny bug under her gaze.

Russia finished up the rest of the bottle. “You have an artifact.”

“You want it?” Finland already knew the answer to his question. “What for?”

“To piece the World Tablet together, of course.” Russia said. Finland frowned, that wasn’t exactly the answer he was expecting.

“And after that?” Finland tapped his finger on his thigh. “You want to rule the world?”

And that’s when he saw it, a brief flicker of hesitation before she answered. “I can try.” 

That was a lie.

“Mhm.” He didn’t care much for Russia’s intentions with the World Tablet, but he was curious about the purpose behind her pursuit for its pieces. “What else?”

Russia pursed her lips together. Finland didn’t like how it seemed like he was interrogating her. 

“Have you heard of the revival theory, Finland?” Russia leaned back, crossing her legs, eyes lost in thought.

“I haven’t, do enlighten me.” Finland pulled out another bottle of vodka. 

“It was a theory made by my father, that the World Tablet, an artifact of incomprehensible power, would be able to revive the dead.” Russia grinned, eyes manic. Finland’s palms grew clammy, as sweat formed at the back of his neck.

He drank down another bottle of Vodka, still too sober for this bullshit.

“So you want to bring your father back.” Finland concluded, a gnawing feeling of dread crawling up his throat. His rifle was still hung up in the back, but he did have a backup hidden behind the armchair.

Russia remained silent, which was somehow more terrifying.

“The artifact.” Russia held out her hand.

“In my office, find it yourself. I won’t stop you.” He even left it on the desk as a paper weight as a punishment for breaking his precious vodka bottle.

Russia softly chuckled, rising from the armchair. 

“I’m afraid you’ve learned too much.” Russia’s eyes glinted bright blue. 

Finland pulled out his backup rifle, got off this armchair and skidded back to gain a bit of distance from the Tsarina.

“You told me all that, don’t take it out on me.” Finland frowned, taking aim. 

Russia swept her hair behind her, swirls of snow twirling between her fingers.

“Here we go again.” Finland grumbled.

***

Russia stood atop a tree, gazing out at a destroyed cabin in the middle of the woods as violent frosty winds blew her hair away. Her frostbitten fingers grazed the artifact in her pocket. Finland would live, after all that man had survived against her father with nothing but a rifle and some vodka without any lasting injuries.

Her communicator flashed red and she held it to her ear.

“I have the artifact, Moscow.” Russia said into the device.

“Well done Tsarina.” Moscow, her right hand man, said. 

“How is progress on the experiment?” 

“Ready for the artifact.” He answered. 

“And…Ukraine?” Russia sighed deeply, hoping her younger brother had changed his mind in the brief moment she had left.

“The Tsarevich has not changed his mind.” Moscow bitterly replied. 

“He will soon.” It was unfortunate that her brother stubbornly refused her endeavors of bringing back their father. “And the artifact in the Empire of Darkness?”

Moscow went oddly silent.

“What happened, Moscow?” Russia demanded. 

“There have been a couple…complications with the retrieval of the artifact.” Moscow hesitantly informed her. 

“Such as…?”

“The infiltration of an unknown mercenary and the Guildmaster of the Liberation Guild, America.” 

“So he went after that one first.” Russia sighed, she knew she wasn’t the only one looking for the artifacts. America had been messing things up for her and her father for years, and indirectly caused her father’s death. “And St. Petersburg?”

“He is on his way to the Kingdom of Art.” 

***

(Hours earlier)

After confirming the location of his son and the Guild Secretary(which was way faster than Germany expected), America brought him over to a branch of the Liberation Guild.  

Germany pulled back the hood of his cloak. The branchmaster, Belgium, handed him a mercenary disguise so he would be able to infiltrate alongside America. “I understand that infiltrating as myself will cause many problems, but is this really necessary?” 

He tugged at the blond wig that America insisted he wear. For god’s sake he also had light blue contacts on.

“Yeah.” America nodded, leaning against the wall.

“Surely just a veil or a face mask would be enough.” Germany doubted that they needed to change his entire appearance.

America ignored him. “Oh yeah! We need a fake name for you.” 

“Seriously?” Germany sighed exasperatedly, more than ready to leave. How did Canada put up with him? “Just pick whatever.”

“Germy? Jerry? Oh, what about just German.” 

Germany gave the most deadpanned and unimpressed glare he could to America and watched the Guildmaster shrink back. Note to self: Never let America name anything.

***

Artifact Locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

“Owwwwwwwwwww.” Canada rolled over to his side, hands reaching to his temples in an attempt to soothe the absolutely killer headache bouncing around in his skull.

Did he get hit by a truck?

“You’re awake.” Poland said from somewhere near him.

Canada opened his eyes and was miserably greeted by the damp walls of a cell. Opposite him was the young prince, curled up in a ball and resting his head on his knees.

“Not again.” He groaned, pushing himself to sit upright.

“What do you mean ‘not again’?” Poland asked.

“I mean, I have been put in prison a couple times.” Canada shrugged. “What happened?”

“Some guy called Volgograd, he’s from the Pale Empire, kidnapped us and is holding us, well me, ransom for some artifact thing.” Poland grumbled, scooching closer to the bars of the cell.

“Do you know how long it has been?” Canada winced as he saw the dried blood over his hands, his face probably did look like it was hit by a truck. “And do you know where my pouch is?”

He hoped that whoever had caught them didn’t look through the pouch and gained another artifact.

Poland blinked at him dumbly.

“Why are you so calm?” The prince narrowed his eyes, confused.

“Poland, if I start panicking you probably would too. And besides, this isn’t my first rodeo.” Canada said, creeping up to the bars and observing the dim hallway of cells. There were 4 cells, two on each side facing each other with a massive metal door at the end of the hallway.

“Well…it’s been more than a few hours.” Poland fiddled his fingers together, head down. “And I don’t know where he took your pouch.”

America definitely found where they were located, the Liberation Guild specialised in information and despite how often his brother brushed him off they were still brothers. 

Still, he didn’t want to wait to be rescued.

“Have you identified any security cameras?” Canada whispered, eyeing the corners of the cell that were hidden in shadow. He ruffled a hand through his hair and his fingers pulled out a thin hairpin.

“Are you trying to escape?” Poland whispered back, gritting his teeth. 

“What else does it look like I’m doing?” 

Poland bit his lip. “Maybe…Maybe escaping isn’t such a good idea.”

Canada choked on air, coughing before turning to Poland. “I’m sorry, what do you mean?” 

“They’ll just catch us and put us back in here, and…they’ll punish us for trying to break out.” Poland curled up tighter. “We are underground, and there are cameras everywhere.”

“Yeah, but waiting here for help that might not even come doesn’t seem like a better option.” Upon closer observation, the lock wasn’t one that could be picked, and was definitely thicker and heavier than the ones he escaped from in the war.

“Volgograd took you down in one hit.” Poland said. “He could be waiting right outside, and just shove us back in here.”

“Volgograd?” Canada raised an eyebrow. “Stalingrad had a kid?” He patted the side of his head where he felt that the wound had already healed.

“You know him?” Poland asked.

Canada nodded. “The current Kaiser had a rough battle against him during the Second Great War. It ended in Stalingrad’s victory but he died years later from his injuries. He has a grudge against your dad—”

“He’s not my dad.” Poland interrupted, voice bitter. “Someone like him is my dad.”

An awkward silence followed and Canada shuffled closer to Poland as he watched a flurry of mixed emotions fly across the prince’s face.

“During the war, I remembered looking over the generals that served the Third Reich.” Canada started. “There was a kid with wings and white and red hair that stood next to Third Reich.”

Poland stiffened, turning his head away. 

“There was also another man who looked almost identical to Nazi Germany but younger.” Canada said. “But one thing was similar between all the generals on the wall, their eyes all had a purple glow, almost like they were under some sort of spell.”

Poland cleared his throat. “That man, Nazi Germany.” He clenched his fists tighter. “He could turn others into his puppets using his shadow abilities, one way to tell if you were fighting a puppet was from their eyes.”

“I was one of the first he used the ability on and I thankfully don’t remember what I did under his control, but when….” Poland’s nails dug deep crescents into his palms. “When he took over my mind, he wasn’t alone.”

“The current Kaiser, he was next to his brother.” Poland shut his eyes, hiding his head in his hands. “And he didn’t do anything.”

“Are you sure—”

“His eyes weren’t purple.” Poland gritted his teeth together so tightly, Canada could hear them creaking. “He didn’t do anything, just stood there and watched as his brother turned me into a monster.”

“Poland—”

“He—”

“Poland, let me finish.” Canada sternly interrupted, using the same sharp tone that always got his brothers to listen. “I’m sure he would have done something if he could, and I’m sure he’s sorry.”

“Then why hasn’t he said anything for so many years?” Poland’s bloodshot eyes locked onto Canada. “Everyday he’s just up in his office, the last time he spoke with me was during the adoption and even then he didn’t give a single apology.”

“He doesn’t even try to find me, if he’s truly sorry then why hasn’t he done anything?” 

“Have you tried to talk to him then?” 

“He’s always busy when I try to speak to him, and Berlin…I mean, he’s trying but he can’t speak for him.” Poland traced vague shapes on the floor, eyes blank. 

“How about this, once we get out of here, you and Germany talk it out.” Canada said. He had his fair share of daddy issues, and whatever was going on between Germany and Poland was just miscommunication, which could easily be fixed.

Poland shuffled and gave a shrug. “Maybe, if we even get out.”

Canada took another look at the lock and stuffed the hairpin back into his hair. It certainly would break if he just…

“I’m not sure if they’ve got microphones in here. Just trust me alright?” Canada silently wished he had his hockey stick with him. “I’ll get us out of here in no time.”

“…how many prisons have you escaped from?” Poland narrowed his eyes.

“Ehhh…” Canada raised a couple fingers. “7, actually 8 but America said that one didn’t count. Most of them were actually me breaking him out.”

“Ah.” Poland nodded.

A sudden shockwave shook the entire room, which Canada took as a sign that America had arrived already.

“Let’s hurry.” He placed a hand over the lock and clutched it tight, small crakes snaking around the metal as it bent under his grip. The lock snapped apart, dropping to the ground with a loud thud.

Canada shoved the door open and rushed to Poland’s cell door. There was a more intricate lock over the door, tougher and harder than his. It wasn’t something he could tear of without…

”Poland, do you mind keeping a small secret for me?” Canada asked softly.

“Sure?” The boy agreed, confused.

His grip tightened onto the lock, a surge of strength shooting through his arm, buzzing to his fingertips. Black shot through his peripheral vision, leaving only a small circle of focus.

The lock snapped apart like glass, crumbling into pieces in Canada’s hand. 

“Your eyes…” Poland breathed. Canada’s eyes voided over into black, red pupils in the centre.

“Is that your ability?” Poland asked anyway, gratefully taking Canada’s hand and stepping out. 

“Let’s go.” Canada dodged the question, dashing towards the large metal door at the end of the hallway. 

“Uhm…any chance those wings can bash the door open?” Canada asked, feeling around the door.

“I don’t think so.” Poland shook his head. “Can’t you do whatever you did to the lock on that?”

“About that…”

Canada felt a slight chill shoot down his back, and he pulled the prince away by the collar, creating a distance between them and the door.

An instant later, the entire thing came crashing down sending dust flying all over. Canada placed a protective hand in front of Poland, readying for a fight.

A cloaked man stepped in, light blue eyes landing on the two of them as Poland gripped Canada’s arm tighter. 

“Guild Secretary.” A tired voice greeted them. “The Guildmaster has come to rescue both you and Prince Poland under the commission of the Kaiser.”

“Where is America?” Canada asked, not seeing his chaotic brother behind the man. He narrowed his eyes as he took another look at the man, he didn’t recall having someone like this in the guild(not that he remembered them all). 

“He has gone off to try and distract the other soldiers in the compound.” The man turned back. “Follow me.”

“ID number and title.” Canada eyed the man warily. 

The man paused, turning back and holding out a small crest with a black eagle in the centre. 

Poland gripped Canada’s hand tighter, suddenly becoming very interested in his shoes.

“Prince Poland.” There was a slight tremble in the man’s voice as he addressed the prince. 

“We can trust him.” Poland croaked out, gritting his teeth together. “That crest means…the Kaiser did send him to retrieve me.”

The man shuffled awkwardly, stuffing the crest into his pocket and leaving through the door.

“Let’s go.”  

***

(Moments earlier)

Germany hated this. 

“How does the Guild Secretary deal with you all the time?” Germany huffed, back hunched and resting his hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

The Guildmaster had physically dragged him through the air holding him like a ragdoll and in moments they reached the military base where Poland was held.

America ignored him in favour of taking a closer look at the windows of the place, eyes glowing with mischief.

“You go and get Poland and Canada.” America rubbed his hands together. “I’m going in first.”

“What?” Germany didn't like where this was going. “Do you have a plan?”

“I’ll just make it up along the way and hope for the best.” America shrugged. “I go in, all of the guards flock to me and you go and search for them, easy peasy right? Especially with your ability.”

“How do you—nevermind.” Germany slid a hand down his face, cutting himself off to spare himself from a potential headache. His ability was known to only 4, well 5, people, 3 of which were dead. Then again, knowing the Liberation Guild they likely had records of him from the Second Great War.

“Meet me on the roof when you get them.” America grinned, swiping his sunglasses down despite the sky getting dark.

Before Germany could get another word in, the Guildmaster launched off into the sky, a streak of flames behind him. Alarmed shouts and sirens sounding from the military base as America dived down head first in an explosion that nearly shook Germany off his feet.

How on earth they didn’t see two people hurtling through the air and landing in the woods was beyond him.

His ability was similar to his brother’s, in that they could only be used in shadow(as did every ability in their family, they weren’t called the Empire of Darkness for nothing), and either the Guildmaster had planned ahead by giving him a massive cloak or simply thought it would fit whatever disguise that was thrown on him, but either way he could liberally use his ability.

His shadow morphed and pooled around him, crawling up his hand as he formed a sharp sword in his hand. How long had it been since he had done this? At least since the Second Great War. 

Germany dashed in from the side of the base where the shadow dragged on the furthest, swiftly slashing his sword to slice a hole in the wall. Kicking the wall down(with a lot more effort than he thought), and sprinting for the nearest elevator. 

Thanks to the Liberation Guild acquiring blueprints(which he memorised), it made this whole mission a lot easier than he thought.

America really wasn’t kidding when he said all the guards would flock to him, there wasn’t a single person who got in his way. He peered out the window for a moment, watching as America cheered after taking one of the guards and throwing them into a growing pile of people. 

“Volgograd isn’t out there…” Germany murmured, an uneasy feeling building in his gut. Volgograd was the only one he was worried about, all the others were small fry.

He broke open the lift shaft, jumped down to the bottom and landed somewhat successfully(he didn’t twist an ankle but it did come close). Germany placed his hand down, wrapping the shadows in the dim lift shaft around the doors before him. 

He clenched his fist, and the entire door came apart in one piece, he tossed it aside and leapt through the doorframe.

The lights in the room disintegrated the shadow sword in his hand, and he shattered the lightbulbs with gloved fists, leaving only one behind. 

A massive iron door stood in front of him and Germany pulled a fist back, coating it in layers of solidified shadow and punched the door clean out.

He stepped through the door, eyes widening as he found Poland and Canada already out of their cells and standing before the broken door. Contrary to his worst fears, Poland was alright and unharmed, with Canada looking worse for wear. 

Germany wanted to grab his son, bring them both out of here and back to a place where they were safe, but he came here as a mercenary who was part of the Liberation Guild, not as the Kaiser.

“Guild Secretary.” He tried to mask his voice, praying Poland wouldn’t recognize it. “The Guildmaster has come to rescue both you and Prince Poland under the commission of the Kaiser.”

“Where is America?” Canada asked, suspicion lacing his tone. 

Germany’s mind flicked back to the utter chaos the Guildmaster was causing outside. “He has gone off to try and distract the other soldiers in the compound.” 

He turned back. “Follow me.”

“ID number and title.” Canada eyed him warily.

Oh dear, well this wasn’t something he had considered.

His mind raced through the potential answers he could give before he recalled a certain crest that he knew would at least get Poland’s trust.

He formed a shield crest with black eagle in the centre and held out, heart aching as he saw Poland recoil as he recognized what the crest meant.

His voice caught in his throat, rasping. “Prince Poland.”

Poland avoided any sort of eye contact with him, shifting closer to Canada. “We can trust him.” His son finally croaked out, the bitterness in his voice almost knocking Germany over. “That crest means…the Kaiser did send him to retrieve me.”

He shuffled, placing the crest in his pocket and turning away so Poland wouldn’t see how violently his hands were shaking.

“Let’s go.”

***

Artifact locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1(in Volgograd’s custody)

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

“Any ideas on how we’re going to get out of here?” Canada asked, scratching the back of his neck as he saw how deep underground they were.

Safe to say, going down the lift shaft was a lot easier than going back up. There were two ways Germany could bring them all out, the parkour method, or the throwing method, both of which were not recommended.

“Well, I do.” Germany said, placing a hand on the side of the lift shaft and platforms formed on the side.

“Huh.” Canada’s eyes widened, turning back to him in awe.

“Either this or I throw you up there, however the Kaiser…” Germany turned to Poland who still warily kept his distance from him. “The Kaiser would like for the prince to come back unharmed.”

“You can tell the Kaiser he can shove his concerns in a place where the sun doesn’t shine.” Poland hissed, wings sprouting from his back.

Germany’s eyes twitched slightly, eyes focusing on anywhere except his son.

“I’ll see you up there.” Poland said. With a strong flap of his wings, the prince soared out of the shaft, kicking up all sorts of dust. 

“Y’know, sometimes he reminds me a bit too much of America in some ways.” Canada furrowed his brows, frowning. 

“Agreed.” Germany nodded his head. 

“Any chance I can take the throwing route?” Canada asked.

“…you are being completely serious, right?” Surely the Guild Secretary wasn’t as loony as his brother, climbing up was obviously the more sane option. 

“It’s faster.” 

Forget it, no one here except him was sane.

“Don’t blame me later.” Germany mumbled under his breath. He snapped his fingers, removing the shadow platforms and forming a springy surface under Canada and his feet.

Before Canada could ask, both of them were launched into the air, the Guild Secretary’s screams filling his ears. Midair, he grabbed onto Canada and tossed him through the hole where the lift doors used to be. 

Canada crashed into Poland, both of them tumbling to the ground as Germany landed somewhat gracefully in the opening(he didn’t roll an ankle like that one time).

“Should’ve taken the platforms.” Canada groaned, rubbing his head as he stood up.

Germany held out a hand to help Poland up, and the prince looked as though he was about to accept it before he turned away and rose to his feet.

“Let’s get out of here.” Poland said, hastily walking away.

“Don’t rush off alone, Poland!” Canada chased after the prince, with Germany not far behind. As they caught up, a sudden chill shot down Germany’s spine. 

His body lunged forward, pushing Poland and Canada forward before something collided against his body and shot him into a nearby wall. Tinnitus rang in his ears, doubles of everything swimming all over his vision as his head drummed with pain. 

“Who?” Germany pushed himself out of the crater in the wall, squinting as he tried to focus on a hulking figure in front of him. 

“That’s what I should be asking.” An unmistakable voice that used to haunt his head for months scowled. 

Germany formed a shadow sword in his hands, pointing it forwards, level to Volgograd’s neck. 

“Who are you?” Volgograd demanded, raising his fist and racing forward. Germany ducked under his arm, swinging his sword at the larger man’s torso.

Volgograd spun around, his fist narrowly missing Germany’s back but the force sent Germany retreating back a few steps back to Poland and Canada’s side. 

“Guild Secretary, please take the prince away from here.” Germany adjusted his grip on the sword, removing his hood and readying himself. Maybe the excessively thorough disguise was useful. “Find the Guildmaster.”

“Will do.” Canada grabbed Poland’s arm. 

Poland’s feet dragged slightly and he took one last look at Germany, eyes narrowing in recognition before shaking his head and following Canada. 

Germany swiftly dodged another punch, trying to attack again before his shadow sword dissolved in the light. He jumped up, trying to shatter the lightbulb, before Volgograd caught his arm and dangled him like a ragdoll.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Volgograd threw him to the side effortlessly and crushed his chest with a large foot, the heel pressing deep into his gut. “What’s your name?”

Germany recalled that stupid cover name he gave himself, how on earth did America know he would actually need it? Germany grabbed at the shadow that was cast over him by Volgograd and turned it into a flurry of daggers that zipped towards the general. “Ludwig.”

Volgograd took a few steps back into the light and the daggers vanished the moment light hit it. Germany scrambled back up only to be thrown into another wall as Volgograd punched him again. “Ludwig, your ability is startlingly similar to an old acquaintance of my father’s.”

“What a coincidence.” Germany hardened the shadow of his cloak to cushion the impact, eyes scanning the room for anything he could use to break the damn lights. Just as he saw a light switch, Volgograd grabbed him by the collar and threw him out the window. 

He heard a creak in his arm as he rolled across the ground, barely able to slow himself down by digging his fingers into the ground. 

Volgograd broke through the wall, effortlessly spinning a giant hammer between his fingers, stalking closer to Germany. “You know, my father once told me a method to weaken abilities from the Empire of Darkness.”

Though the sunset sent heavy shadows cast across Germany’s side, the sunlight itself made it almost impossible for him to use his abilities.

“You certainly did your research.” Germany got back on his feet, regretting not bringing a weapon. He didn’t think he’d need it.

Volgograd scoffed and leaped high into the air, slamming the hammer head down in the spot Germany was a split second ago. Cracks formed across the ground, and a sudden force rippled across the air.

Germany was thrown off his feet, landing brutally on the ground as a burning pain festered in his torso, a faint trickle of red trailed down the side of his head as he coughed out blood.

“Tell me, Ludwig.” Volgograd said. “Do you recall what the late Third General Stalingrad’s ability was?”

“According to the information from the Guild Library, it was infinitive regeneration.” Germany lied, having experienced Stalingrad’s ability in person. He pushed himself up after forming a staff in his hand, supporting most of his weight on it. 

Germany recognised this sort of odd idle chatter mid-fight, Volgograd probably thought the fight was as good as won and let his mouth run, something both father and son had in common.

“Correct, and as such most of my peers assumed I would develop a similar ability.” Volgograd paused to watch his reflection on one of the shiny surfaces of the hammer. “And to their utter surprise…I got something better.”

Volgograd punched out a fist in the direction of where the military base was, and for the first few seconds, nothing happened.

Until a massive crater formed on the outer wall and the entire thing came crumbling down. 

“Shockwaves.” Volgograd mused, eyes focusing back towards Germany. “And frankly, I ought to thank that wretch for killing my father, without him, this revenge would never have been possible.”

Germany stared blankly at Volgograd. 

Was he screwed? In short, yes. However, a foreign, playful sort of feeling stirred inside him, the sort of feeling that had vanished after years of war, that almost shouted at him to do something so utterly foolish and reckless that past-him would scold himself at the idea even crossing his mind. 

A croaky chuckle that made his chest hurt escaped his throat, Germany pointed the point of the staff at Volgograd as it shifted into a sword. The shadow threatened to vanish in the sunlight, but as he tightened his grip, it stood defiantly in the light as a grin creeped across Germany’s face.

“Fuck you and your monologue.” Germany licked his bloodstained lips, cocking his head to the side. “What the fuck are you saying anyways? Thanking a guy for killing your dad, you heartless little shit.”

A vein bulged in Volgograd’s head, his expression hidden by a shadow that cast over his face. A low laugh rang out as he raised his head, a murderous glare in his eyes. “You’ll pay—”

“Then again, I suppose a stray like you is about as heartless as it gets, seeing as your father’s unloving and that Tsarina of yours is about as cruel and cold-hearted as they come.” Germany taunted, relishing in the adrenaline pumping through him, all composure and verbal filters gone. 

Volgograd snapped, voice roaring. “You will not slander the Tsarina!”

As he raised his hammer with bloodlust brimming from his very being, Germany raised his sword, ready to block the blow. 

A ball of white feathers collided against Volgograd, knocking him to the ground with a scream. “STAY THE FUCK AWAY!”

Screeches and yells erupted as the boy who shoved the general down leapt back up and retreated to Germany’s side. 

“Honestly, what were you thinking?” Poland berated, huffing as he crossed his arms. “Mocking a guy like that, are you trying to die?”

“…Poland?” Germany’s voice nearly failed him. Poland flinched slightly, eyes trained ahead. 

***

Poland was lying when he admitted his hatred of his ‘father’ to Canada, it was true the man had simply stood and watched as his mind was taken over and used for evil, but that happened years ago.

Holding onto a grudge that long was childish and Poland knew that, yet every time he saw the Kaiser’s face he saw that swastika scorched deep in his mind after years and years of suffering. 

So he kept running, running away from the one man who dragged those memories back every time Poland saw his damned face. 

Germany was his excuse for acting like this, like a child. And he knew it was unfair for him to treat Germany like that, no one deserved to be so hated by someone they cared about. 

Little whispers poked at the edges of his mind, small things that nudged him along a ‘safe’ path that made him think if he just ignored the world around him, maybe everything would be alright. If he didn’t let anyone into his small world, nothing would go wrong. 

That was until a man entered his little bubble which threatened to pull him out of the fragile world that took him years to build. 

“Have you tried to talk to him then?” 

No, he never did, he lied to Canada. If he had tried, then…

He didn’t know what to think anymore. Would Germany accept him as he did with Austria? Of course. What if he was stared down by those eyes that did nothing but watch? Germany would never, you know that he’s sorry. Did he want to feel loved?

Of course he wanted to be loved.

That’s why he always felt that silent cry scream from the bottom of his heart whenever he saw Germany and Austria together, wondering if that’s how he could live.

And that close reality was only a wistful fantasy because he was scared. 

He already knew that this ‘Ludwig’ man was the Kaiser. After fighting alongside him in too many battles despite being puppets, one simply recognized the other by simple features such as voice or stature. 

Poland tensed his muscles, avoiding Germany’s gaze as he focused his eyes on the enraged general before him.

He had leaped before looked, body before mind as he saw the hammer slam down towards the one man he had once wanted dead. Germany looked worse for wear, one arm handing limply by his side, blood flowing the side of his head. 

“Are you alright?” Poland asked, back still facing the Kaiser.

“Yes I am, what—what are you doing here?” Germany tripped over his words. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Saving your ass. Did you think you could fight someone like this alone?” Poland huffed, trying to calm this heartbeat that was thundering wildly in his ears. 

“No…it’s just…” Poland felt a steady hand land on his shoulder, followed by a fond voice. 

“Thank you, Poland.”

And just like that, every crevice in his heart bloomed with warmth, he tucked his head in, fingers trembling.

“No problem.” He croaked out.

Before Germany could respond, Poland’s wings rose up as he turned to the side, using a wing to shield both him and his father, grunting as the hammer sent a crack about the bones in his wing. 

Golden light lit up the area around his wing as the bones instantly healed back. Volgograd lashed out his fist and Germany pulled Poland to the side, the metal fence behind them crumpling into itself in loud screeches.

“What kind of ability is that?” Poland yelled, regaining his balance.

“Shockwaves.” Germany answered.

“Didn’t his dear old dad have that regeneration ability?” Poland raised an eyebrow.

“Either he’s adopted or a bastard.” Germany shrugged. 

Poland let out a chuckle before flushing in embarrassment. Germany grinned in turn and handed over a shadow spear that fit nicely in his hand.

“Do you remember storming the palace?” Germany grimly smiled, a shadow sword forming in his hand despite the orange sunlight hitting it. 

Faint memories from those years passed through Poland’s head, and he nodded. In an instant both father and son unconsciously readied into a battle formation, one ingrained from years of unknowingly fighting alongside each other. 

The spear and shield, Poland in the front with Germany, the sword in the back. 

Volgograd charged at them, both fists clenched as he ditched the hammer. Poland prepared to take the brunt of the attack, trusting Germany to follow up. 

And then the sun set, and a deep chuckle rang from behind him.

***

Artifact locations:

Germany: 1

Canada: 1

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

Chapter Text

Germany felt the light tug of a thousand invisible strings at his fingertips, a manic grin spreading across his face. He raised his hand, the world around him shifting as a hundred of void black snakes crawled out of the shadowed ground. 

They lunged at Volgograd, fangs bared and sharp. As Volgograd smashed apart their heads blow after blow, Poland dashed up behind, swinging the spear at Volgograd’s neck.

“Tch!” Volgograd hissed and dodged to the side. The spearhead nicked his neck, giving the snakes the opening they needed to coil around Volgograd.

The general tore the snakes off, slamming his fists to the ground and cracking the air and ground. Poland pulled Germany out of range, and the Kaiser formed a wall to block the blast. 

Silent words were exchanged in the small glance Germany and Poland shared before the winged child sprung back into action, soaring straight up into the air as shadow spikes shot up through the ground and towards Volgograd.

Volgograd slammed his hand in the air towards Germany, the air cracking across and narrowly missing the Kaiser as it blew a hole in the fence. He lunged forward, snagging Germany by the cloak and lifting him up.

“You have caused me many many problems.” Volgograd raised fist aimed at Germany’s head. “I’ll catch that damned bird and hand you both to the Tsarina.”

“Good luck with that.” Germany smirked. His eyes drifted to the white bullet shooting down from the sky towards them. 

He landed a kick on Volgograd’s chest, retreating back as chains shot up from the ground, locking the general to ground.

Spiralling down with his spear outstretched towards Volgograd was Poland, the spear head aimed right for the general’s neck.

A shockwave stronger than anything Volgograd had ever unleashed rippled across their surroundings, uprooting trees and clouded the world around him in dust and dirt.

“Poland!” Germany regained his balance, eyes squinting amidst the dust, trying to find his son.

As the dust cleared, two silhouettes stood in a crater, one whose wings were snapped at odd angles and the other clutching his shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Germany ignored the sharp throbbing in his own ribs and ran up to Poland’s side. 

Volgograd had escaped last second, the spear head slicing deep into his shoulder instead of his neck. 

As Germany was about to charge forward at the injured general, Poland held out his arm as golden light swirled around his broken wings. “Don’t.”

The light on the communication device in Volgograd’s hand blinked red, all eyes focused on it. 

“What.” Volgograd hissed as he answered the call.

“The Tsarina has summoned you back to the Empire.” A deep husky voice informed him.

“And the mission?” A vein bulged in Volgograd’s head. 

“Aborted.” The voice said. “You are to return effective immediately.”

“Moscow, what kind of bullshit is this?” Volgograd fruitlessly glared at the communicator. “Are we abandoning the artifact?”

“Tsarina’s orders.” The communicator switched off, leaving the three of them in awkward silence for a moment.

“You heard the guy, get the fuck outta here.” A lazy voice drawled, sending the three of them flinching. The Guildmaster sauntered towards them, walking out of the cloud of dust with his hands tucked in his pockets.

“The Liberation Guildmaster.” Volgograd scowled, glaring daggers at America.

“Yo.” America gave a mock salute with two fingers.

“The Pale Empire will not forget this.” Volgograd promised. He slammed a foot into the ground, his body launching into the air as the ground cracked beneath him. 

“So that’s how he left.” Germany murmured. 

Golden light drifted across his vision as he felt Poland place a hand on his shoulder. His son shut his eyes in concentration as he felt his wounds close up, a rush of relief spreading through his body. 

“Sorry I didn’t do that earlier.” Poland said after he finished, scratching his neck. “It’s a lot harder to do it on other people.”

“Thanks Poland.” Germany beamed, chuckling as he watched his son flush again in embarrassment, wings covering his face. He noticed that the cut on his palm had also vanished, and clenched his fist. 

“Are you both alright?” Canada called from a distance, running up to them, panting.

“Hurry up!” America shouted,

“Okay, I’ve just got to ask,” Poland took in a deep breath. “WHAT WERE YOU TWO DOING THE ENTIRE TIME?” 

Canada slowed down to a stop, catching his breath, the beaver pouch slung around his neck again. He carried a box of papers in his arms, which America reached in and pulled out one.

“I went to go and find a little something in the building.” America said, grinning as he saw what was in the paper. “And I was cleaning up all the other guys around. Besides, you guys looked like you had it handled.”

“What is that…?” Poland took a closer look at the paper. On the paper was a map with a few locations marked down with a cross, scattered around the world. “Locations?”

“Nope, no peeking.” America shut the paper and stuffed it back into the box. “This is only for me and the guild to know.”

Canada rolled his eyes, subtly placing a hand over his pouch and giving it a small squeeze. 

“Whatever.” Poland huffed. “How are we going to get back anyways? I don’t think I’m strong enough to carry all of us.”

Germany slowly edged away before America grabbed the hood of his cloak and dragged him back. 

“I’d rather walk.” Germany said as America promptly ignored his statement and looped an arm around his shoulders.

“I haven’t actually done this with more than 2 people, so if any of you fall it isn’t my fault.” America grinned and grabbed Canada’s arm as his brother mutedly accepted his fate.

“What?” Poland asked, confused. Germany ensured to grab his son’s hand in a death grip and physically tie them together using shadows.

“Just…close your eyes.” Germany sent a silent prayer.

America yoinked Poland and Germany, the Guild Secretary barely had any time to push the open side of the box against his chest so nothing would fall out. Germany tightened his grip on Poland as America leapt off into the air, biting his lip so he wouldn’t scream. 

Contrary to what he expected, Poland seemed to be…enjoying this.

“WOOOOHOOOOOOO!” Poland, who was hugged to Germany’s chest, threw his hands up, cheering as they cut through the air faster than a bullet. 

Germany on the other hand…pray tell they get back down on land soon if not he might hurl.

“Mind slowing down?” Canada yelled over the air, struggling to keep the box to his chest. “I might drop all this!”

“Eh?” America didn’t look back. “Just hold it tighter.”

“Would it kill you to slow the hell down? Do you want all this to come tumbling out?” Canada’s fingers were slipping off the box.

“I got you.” Germany mumbled, biting back the bile. Shadow ropes bound the box to Canada much to the Guild Secretary’s relief.

“Thanks.” Canada said(shouted). 

The night was still young, traces of the sunset flew past them in shades of navy blue before draining to black. Poland’s eyes shined, smiling as he gripped onto his father’s cloak, he reached out a hand and giggled as the wind zipped past his fingers.

***

Germany slowly opened his eyes, the covers rustling as he pushed himself upright. His mind slowly booted back up, as the events of who-knows-how-long ago flashed across his head. Right, he was up in the sky when…

His room door creaked open and Berlin walked through carrying a tray of food. 

“You’re awake my lord.” Berlin said, surprised.

“What happened?” Germany didn’t remember how he got here. 

“You overused your ability.” Berlin sighed, placing the tray down on Germany’s bedside table. “My lord, you know of your family’s history with overusing your abilities.”

Germany had a rare genetic condition called Delayed Ability Recoil(DAR), which caused the strain from using one’s ability to build up inside the user. After a certain amount of time, all the damage would hit at once and usually render the user unconscious, but in more severe cases it can lead to instant death.

Just like how his uncle died.

“Yes, Berlin. I remember my uncle’s implosion.” Germany said, shoving down the memory of the German Empire caving in on himself before blood painted the walls in a gruesome display.

Now he didn’t feel like eating.

“How long have I been out?” The last time something like this happened was during the war, and even then it wasn’t this bad.

“Around 14 hours.” Berlin said, handing over a glass of water.

Germany slid his glasses on, taking a sip of water before the realisation that he was in that fucking disguise when he passed out hit him caused him to almost spit it back out.

At least he had his glasses back, those contacts were an absolute nightmare to wear and fight with.

“And Poland?” He just realised his son probably had to deal with his dangling body.

Berlin perked up, a jolly smile on his face. “He is with the Guildmaster and Guild Secretary in the garden with Young Master Austria.”

Ah right, he still had to uphold his end of the deal.

“I’ll go and see them.”

***

After landing back at the Liberation Guild’s branch, they were greeted by an irritated(everyone knew she was concerned) Belgium and the head butler Berlin, who brought Poland and Germany back to the palace and invited Canada and America to join.

Canada declined the offer, much to America’s annoyance since the Guildmaster wasn’t exactly in any condition to move around anymore. America wasn’t used to carrying more than one person(he dragged around Oz and Canada around in the that one time on a dare) so the short trip back had overexerted him. 

Canada was also living off one piece of toast the entire day, dammit he was starving. 

And after a good meal, shower and sleep in the guild branch, both of them went back to the palace, but not without sorting out the contents of the box first.

America had woken up surprisingly early and bolted to the spare office where the box was left in, when Canada entered, America had already ‘sorted’(made a mess) of the place.

“You left Germany alone and went along to steal documents, are they really that important?” When America shoved the box of papers into his hands, Canada didn’t really have the time to take a closer look at the stuff his brother stole.

America proudly held up the map he messily pinned up on the board, pre-marked locations circled all over it. 

Canada squinted at the writing, eyes widening as he registered the literal treasure trove in front of him.

“Marked locations of…artifacts?” Holy shit(mind the language), holy shittttttt(ahem). “How did you find this?”

“I realised that that Volgo-guy took a while to come out despite me causing all that ruckus, and when he went out to fight Ludwig I snuck in and found this in a secret bunker.” America proudly explained. “I’ve gotta thank him one day, when he did that shockwave it opened the secret bunker door.”

Canada’s eyes scanned over the words again. There were 7 possible locations where the artifacts could be that the Pale Empire had discovered, with an almost even split between Europe and Asia. 

There was a circle over the Empire of Darkness, the Kingdom of Art, some random place in the woods near the Pale Empire and another place in the centre of the region.

“After this I’m thinking we should go to this place next.” America pointed at the area in the woods. “I know a guy who lives around there and he also works for the Guild.”

“Finland?” Canada raised an eyebrow, he hadn’t heard from the sniper for a good 4 years now.

“Yeah, I’m sure he could be a pretty good guide to bring us around the area.” America said.

“What about the one in the middle?” Canada asked.

“Nah, France lives there.” America waved a hand. “She’s definitely got one knowing that old man, but it’ll be troublesome for us to fight her now and maybe we can blackmail her into giving us her artifact later.”

Canada’s mind went blank for a moment, hands gripping at the beaver pouch strap just across his chest. France had given her artifact over to him and it was literally 3 steps away from America.

“You good?” America raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” Canada shook his head, snapping out of his daze as he readjusted his beaver pouch. “This is just a lot to take in, we’ve already made so much progress.”

“Damn straight.” America picked up the map and stuffed it into one of the numerous pockets in his leather jacket. “Now we gotta go to Germany’s palace.”

“Why? I mean I would like to check up on them but for you to want to go there?” It wasn’t like his brother to act like that.

“Me and Germany made a little deal.” America made a circle with his index and thumb. “One artifact for the Guild’s assistance in finding you and the prince, not a bad deal huh.”

Canada did feel a little bad about effectively using the Kaiser’s son to trade for the artifact but then again they did rescue him as well so he wasn’t complaining.

“Not bad.” Canada shrugged as he followed America out the office. “Also this makes 8 times I’ve broken out of prison, I’m the champion now.”

“This one doesn’t count!” America bit back. “Besides it was Germany who broke you out.”

“But I unlocked my cell.” Canada gestured at his hairpins.

America pouted, crossing his arms and turning away. 

“Did you use that thing? With the bars?” America asked.

“Only once. Poland won’t tell.” Canada said curtly, unwilling to venture towards that topic.

“Good, you know what happens if anyone finds out.” America nodded, eyes flashing with an unfamiliar serious glint for a split second before his brother donned back his award-winning smile.

***

Germany entered the palace garden, which had mostly been fixed together(thanks to Berlin’s ability) save for the fountain in the centre(which was replaced by a patio). Poland and Austria sat together with the Guild Secretary and Guildmaster, having a small snack together at the table. 

“Papa!” The moment Austria noticed his father was here he dashed over and threw his arms around Germany. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alright, how about you? Feeling better?” Germany knelt down and hugged Austria. 

“Yeah, Poland healed everything.” Austria beamed, before his expression faltered and he looked between his father and brother.

The winged child stood up, his footsteps halting after only shifting slightly. Canada gave an encouraging thumbs-up before saying something Germany couldn’t hear.

Poland stepped forward tentatively, one foot in front of the other. His wings shrunk away as he moved faster, speeding up into a jog. In a final burst, Poland collided right into Germany, nearly knocking his father over as he wrapped his arms around his father’s waist.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Poland buried his face into Germany’s chest. Wings unfurled from his back, embracing Austria and his father. 

“I…” Germany blankly looked at his son, hugging him back, and using one hand ruffling the hair on Poland’s head. “Me too.”

“Poland, are you—?”

“Shut up, I’m not crying.” Poland softly sobbed, gripping Germany tighter. 

His father rubbed his back, patting it rhythmically. Germany’s eyes stung and he was pretty sure they were bloodshot as tears threatened to pour down.

“I love you, Poland.” Germany whispered.

“Me too, I love you dad.” Poland choked up, his voice croaky. “Love you.”

***

Unfortunately, beautiful moments like that were often never left alone, and Germany found himself closing his office door, eyeing the Guildmaster with annoyance instead of caution. 

“Couldn’t you have waited just a little longer?” Germany frowned, locking it shut.

“Me and Canada have artifacts to hunt.” America leaned against his desk. The window the guildmaster broke through was repaired(again, thanks to Berlin). 

“Yes, yes.” Germany scoffed, walking over to the desk and opening a specific drawer. Inside was a whole ton of rocks, some fancy, most plain. 

“A rock collection.” America deadpanned. “You put it with a rock collection.”

“A very nice rock collection.” Germany said, pressing a button at the far back of the drawer and watching the bottom drawer squeak open. “And to be fair, I did just get it yesterday morning.”

Germany took out the artifact, closing both drawers and placing the rock in America’s waiting hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” America grinned, eyes glued to the artifact. 

“The feeling isn’t mutual.” Germany mumbled, unbothered if the Guildmaster heard it or not.

***

Artifact locations:

America: 1

Canada: 1

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

The transition from violent winds to frostbiting gales was almost instant as the general entered the territory of the Pale Empire, sending faint goosebumps down his arms. Not from the intense cold but from chill that went down his spine as he thought of whatever reason would have the Tsarina abort the mission and bring him all the way back. 

The Tsarina had sent them out to gather the artifacts scattered all over the world, and thanks to Moscow’s ability they had managed to locate all the artifacts in Europe within the night. 

His plan was simple: kidnap the prince, hold him ransom and get the artifact by the next day, and it had been going well if only that damned Guildmaster hadn’t messed up everything. 

The Pale Empire and the Liberation Guild were always at odds ever since the Second Great War that started with the late Tsar Soviet stealing the World Tablet from right under the Guildmaster’s nose and the two of them engaging in battle after battle until the Tsar fell ill. 

The palace came into sight amidst the permanent snowstorms, bright lights outlined the city and the palace around it that acted as a lighthouse for those who travelled by air. Volgograd landed in an empty courtyard of the palace, snow blowing off the ground and piling up along the walls at the sudden gust of wind.

He pushed open the double doors that led into the palace, watching as the servants scrambled to remove his snow-covered coat in place of a new one.

“Sir, you are wounded.” One of the maids pointed out, looking concerned as she saw the deep gouge in his shoulder. “The weather has already worsened the wound, maybe you should—”

“No need. The Tsarina summoned me a while ago, I must head to the throne room.” Volgograd declined despite the headache blooming in his head. 

The maid was about to insist, but one glare from Volgograd shut her mouth back up and she rushed away. 

The massive double doors at the end of a grand hallway opened up, the Tsarina Russia crossing her legs on the throne with her advisor and First General Moscow next to her.

“Tsarina.” Volgograd knelt down in front of the steps leading up to the throne, not missing the way Russia’s cold eyes narrowed at his wound. “I’ve returned.”

“At ease, I believe you have many questions.” Russia tossed an object into the air, which upon closer inspection seemed to be an artifact.

“Thank you.” Volgograd stumbled as he rose to his feet, gritting his teeth through the pain. He wasn’t so oblivious as to notice that the Second General St Petersburg was not here. “Where is Peter?”

“He’s still in the Kingdom of Art.” Moscow informed him. 

“Then why am I back here?” Volgograd frowned.

“Moscow informed me that the Guildmaster and an unknown mercenary had come to retrieve the prince and the Guild Secretary.” Russia tapped a finger against the throne armrest, rage bubbling behind her eyes. “I was hoping to get you out of there before things took a turn for the worst.”

“I had it handled.”

“Mhm.” Russia hummed sceptically. “The Guildmaster is out of your league, from now on you are to exercise extreme caution around him.”

“Understood.” Volgograd tried not to let the frustration show in his voice. “And the unknown mercenary, have you identified him?”

“Shadow abilities similar to the current Kaiser’s.” Moscow handed Russia an image they managed to get of Ludwig, blond hair and blue eyes. “No records, even in the Liberation Guild’s registry. We checked the camera footage and suspect he might be one of the Kaiser’s personal forces.”

“Put a bounty on his head.” Russia said, narrowing her eyes at the image in recognition. “Volgograd, I have a new assignment for you.”

“We are starting the Neo World Tablet project ahead of schedule.” Russia held out the artifact in her hand. “Moscow will be heading to Asia to find the artifacts there, so you will be in charge for the time being.”

“And Peter?” Volgograd asked. 

“He will retrieve the remaining artifacts in Europe.” Russia said. “The ones in the Guildmaster’s possession are not the priority. We only need one artifact to begin the project.”

“Will I be working with that foreigner?” Volgograd asked, not hiding his disdain.

“He is an envoy from the Empire of Silk and will follow Moscow to Asia as a guide.” Russia explained. “North Korea is an honoured guest that the Young Emperor China sent over, treat him with the respect he deserves when he returns.”

Volgograd suppressed a scoff, moving his arms to cross them before a sharp pain blazed down his shoulder and he let out a strained grunt.

“Go get that treated.” Russia’s lips pursed as she took a closer look at the wound. “Maybe I should have had Moscow contact you earlier.”

“As you wish.” Volgograd nodded, bowing his head before stumbling out of the throne room.

***

As the doors closed, Russia handed the image back to Moscow who tucked it into a pocket inside his blazer. 

“What do you think, Moscow?” Russia tilted her head up to meet the eyes of her advisor. 

Moscow took a few steps down so they would be on the same eye level. “This man looks an awful lot like the current Kaiser.”

“Are you getting flashbacks of all the times you faced off against that family?” Russia chuckled, faint amusement at the edges of her usually stoic voice. “If the Liberation Guild wasn’t around they might be our closest rivals.”

“Shadow abilities have always been a trademark of that family.” Moscow’s eye twitched. “We only have a faint suspicion and a hunch, which isn’t enough evidence for us to demand an investigation.”

“How many have there been?” Russia ignored him and raised her fingers. “Prussia, The German Empire, Third Reich and now Germany.”

“We are getting off track.” Moscow cleared his throat. 

“Let me have my fun.” Russia smiled. 

Moscow let out a huff, shaking his head in resignation. “In that case, I would argue that the Ottoman Empire was our closest rival.”

Russia hummed a tune, either acknowledging or completely ignoring the first general. She spun the rock around, tapping it on the armrest as she spaced out.

“Ukraine.” Russia gritted out, raw mixed emotions strewn over her face. “Has he changed his mind?”

Moscow’s voice turned dry. “He remained unmoved.”

She slid a hand down her face, pausing around her eyes. A dry chuckle escaped her lips, she clasped her hands together as her eyes shined cold blue. “I guess that’s the only thing he takes after our father.”

“In time, he will crack.” Moscow assured her.

“He might, but that doesn’t mean we start torturing him.” Russia made that point clear to Moscow. 

“I’m not the right person to tell that to.” Moscow said, offended. The Second General was more sadistic than he was.

“If he wasn’t my brother you would have already begun to experiment on him.” Russia narrowed her eyes at Moscow, who stiffened. “I swear, Volgograd is the most sane out of the three of you.”

“Ahem.” Moscow turned away to hide his smirk, to which Russia rolled her eyes. 

*** 

“WHY ARE WE DOING THIS AGAIN?” Canada shrieked into the wind, gripping America’s shoulders like his life depended on it since it did. He was already missing the calm of the Kaiser’s palace until America unceremoniously dragged him out of the palace and leapt off into the air.

“Fastest fingers first!” Was America’s response as they tore through the air, hair whipping at their faces. “Since the commies already made the map, they’re already way ahead of us.”

A sudden chill enveloped them, Canada shuddered and felt America’s body warm up to combat the frosty gales as snow was now being blasted into their faces.

America let out a grunt as they began to experience extreme turbulence, rising and falling in the air as his brother struggled to fight the blizzard. 

“Brace for impact!” America cried out as he flailed in the air, accidentally letting go of Canada as they both spiralled down towards the snow.

“I’ll have you know this is your fault!” Canada yelled out, not caring if his brother could hear him or not. He checked if the pouch was still secured around his chest before aiming for a snowy patch on the ground(not that he could tell since everywhere was blank white).

His body collided into a snow mound, rolling a few paces as he tried to find the grip to slow himself down, groaning when he finally did. 

“Ame?” Canada shook the snow out of his hair as he slowly rose out of the snow, frowned at his lack of proper clothing for the environment. This was why you shouldn’t just fly off and hunt down another artifact located in a frozen wasteland like this.

“Help…” A hand stuck out of a mountain of snow, its fingers twitching. Canada considered just leaving his brother there before shaking his head and slowly moving over.

“Can’t you just melt the snow?” Canada frowned confused as he pulled his brother out, watching as America’s teeth chattered.

“Zip it.” America hissed, rubbing his hands up his arms as he pulled his jacket collar higher up. “How are you not freezing?”

“I mean I’m still cold, but it’s not that bad.” Canada shrugged. It was only slightly chilly, maybe a thicker jacket would be nice.

“Fuck you.” America muttered. A faint flame flickered to life on America’s fingertip that was nearly snuffed out immediately. 

“Mhm.” Canada sighed. 

“We were near Finland’s stupid cabin anyways.” America shivered, eyeing the surrounding area like it personally wronged him.

A small search led Canada to a path of stones that trailed up the hill, America was too grouchy to do anything but complain as he almost slipped trying to walk so he led the way up. 

“How did you survive the Bering Strait, isn’t that place colder?” Canada said, shaking his head in disbelief. America murmured something under his breath, to which Canada rolled his eyes.

They passed by a couple lamps, most broken with a few on their last legs. As they went further up the trail, more and more giant shards of ice were strewn across the trees, with bullet holes through a couple of them.

“What happened…” Canada trailed off as he saw the sight in front of him.

“Oof!” America collided into his back. “Hey, why did you stop…”

Finland’s cabin, or what was left of it, was trapped in a giant glacier, crushed trees poking out with the man himself nowhere to be found. 

“Shit.”

***

Artifact locations:

America: 1

Canada: 1

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

***

I somehow reached 10 chapters, honestly I didn’t think I’d get this far with a weekly update schedule🥹. I almost gave up at chapter 3 when all my motivation was sapped due to a project😭And then OBS happened and I still owe one chapter. I wonder if anyone is reading up to this point, the ch fandom on ao3 is smaller than on other platforms. 

Anyways, I got a little extra scene(*coughs* unedited)in my pocket so take it.

***

“My lord. What is this I’m hearing of you provoking the Third General?” Berlin said. Germany, who was nodding off at his desk, was startled awake. 

“Where did you hear that from?” He croaked.

“Young Master Poland.” Berlin calmly snitched. “I expect better from you, not mocking the enemy. Just like your uncle.”

“I’m nothing like him.” Germany crossed his arms. “Besides, my older brother resembles him a lot more.”

“Yes, but not in that aspect.” Berlin redirected the conversation. “I don’t think it's a genetic thing, both of you simply lose all your verbal filters when backed into a corner.”

“How much longer are you going to rub it in Berlin?” Germany slid a hand down his face, hiding his faintly red cheeks. 

“Much longer.” Berlin chuckled mercilessly. “Something was released into the papers not long ago.” Berlin took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “A bounty was placed on a certain mercenary’s head.”

Berlin opened up the paper, a devious smile on his usually placid face. Germany’s eyes widened in horror as his almost unrecognizable face was smack right in the middle with his fake name in the bottom. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Germany shouted, practically lunging at the paper and snatching it out of Berlin’s hand. “What the-the-how did they-Why?”

“Young masters Poland and Austria have ordered more copies from the Liberation Guild’s branch nearby.” Berlin stroked his beard, watching with amusement as Germany placed the paper in his shadow and stabbed it to death with an impressive number of tiny shards. 

“He did what?” Germany rasped, head slowly turning towards the head butler.

“It seems my assistance is required in the kitchen.” Berlin chuckled, turning away and professionally speedwalking out of the office. “Farewell my lord.”

A loud bang was heard from behind the doors, and their resident repairman was called to fix a deep hole in the wall. 

***

Chapter Text

“You sure this is his house?” Canada asked, jaw half-open with a finger raised as his eyes traced the shape of the destroyed cabin inside the glacier.

“Well it was his house.” America took off his frosted sunglasses just to make sure he was seeing things right. “Not sure if you can even call it one now.”

After pulling his jacket sleeve off(with much protest), flames burst from America’s arm, sweat forming on his brows at the struggle.

“Don’t push yourself.” Canada said, stepping away from the line of fire.

“Psh, and what, wait for it to defrost itself?” America scoffed, flicking his sunglasses back on. 

A pillar of flames shot out of his hand, instantly melting the snow on the grass and vaporising the glacier into thin air. Canada raised his arms, hissing as the sudden rush of heat stung them.

“I hate this.” America grumbled, shuffling the jacket sleeves back over his arms. “Who would want to live here?”

“Personal space and quiet.” Canada answered, something in him agreeing with the prospect of living like this. It would be a nice place to hide to get away from everything.

“Boring.” America frowned, approaching the cabin.

Most of the cabin was surprisingly less damaged than Canada thought it was, a couple walls were broken through, with bullet holes riddled over them. The roof looked like it was thrown out and flung aside and but other than that it was intact.

“Finland?” Canada called out, eyeing the doorframe(minus a door) before stepping through. America walked through a hole where a wall used to be, looking for a heater amidst the destruction.

“Russia got here before we did.” America said, pulling out the map from his jacket pocket again. Canada handed him a pen, which he used to violently cancel out the cross near the top of the map. 

A soft sound came from another room, Canada opened another door and there was Finland, lying on his back with a broken rifle in one hand. There were a couple puncture holes in his clothes despite the lack of blood. 

“Finland, can you hear me?” Canada pulled America along with him and crouched down next to the sniper. Finland roused slightly at the sound, murmuring something under his breath. 

“You’re gonna have to speak up.” America said, to which Canada shot him a glare.

“V…” Finland croaked. 

“V?” 

“Vodka…”

Canada sighed and stared at Finland’s body, considering leaving him there.

“I know what you’re thinking Canada, but it isn’t like that.” America said before Canada could do anything. 

“I didn’t say anything.” Canada narrowed his eyes.

“Do you know what Finland’s ability is?” America asked.

“Auto-aim?” Canada guessed as he searched around for vodka bottles which he doubted survived the attack. “He was known for the most sniper kills during the Second Great War.”

“No, that’s what it says on paper.” America grinned. Canada walked into the living room, everything else inside was destroyed except for a singular opened box…of vodka.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He muttered to himself. Did Finland only protect the bottles and nothing else? Canada lifted the box, placing it next to Finland’s body.

“Finland’s ability is that the more vodka he drinks the stronger and faster his body gets.” America took out a bottle and slotted it into Finland’s empty hand. “And immensely quickens his recovery rate.”

Finland’s body jerked up robotically and he downed the entire thing, Canada listened with horror as the bones in Finland’s torso snapped back together. Finland reached for another, which America handed over and took one for himself.

“No drinking on the job.” Canada snatched the bottle out of America’s hands.

“I’m cold.” America said, taking another one out and drinking from it before Canada could do anything.

“Tch.” Canada frowned.

America licked his lips and placed the bottle back in the box. “Whiskey’s better.”

“If I still had a window I would throw you out.” Finland curtly commented, glaring at America. 

“How are you feeling, Finland?” Canada asked.

“Fine.” Finland brushed himself off, frowning at the broken rifle. “Soviet was worse.”

“You fought Soviet?” Canada’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Unfortunately.” Finland shrugged, taking out another bottle. “You’d think when he died everything would finally be quiet but noooooo, you get dragged back into the drama because of a rock.” 

“I tried.” Finland said. “But she got it, sorry or whatever I guess.”

“It’s alright, we’re glad you aren’t too badly injured.” Canada said. “Do you need a place to stay? There isn’t really much left here.”

“I’ve got spare places all over.” Finland said. “I’ll be fine, go on ahead with your scavenger hunt.”

“It’s not a—” Canada argued before pausing with realization. “Actually that’s pretty accurate.”

“You got any ideas for places to go?” Finland asked, turning to America.

“Yep, either the Kingdom of Art or France.” America pulled out the map again.

“The Pale Empire’s most likely sent their people to the Kingdom of Art, so France is your best bet.” Finland said.

Canada froze up, shifting his hand to his pouch again. 

“Nah.” America shook his head. “We can go to France later or last, the Pale Empire won’t get her and I’ve got a little something I can use to get the artifact from her.” 

“Suit yourself.” Finland shrugged, frowning when he couldn’t find the beanie on his head. “Good luck.”

“We gotta go all the way back.” America groaned, stuffing the map into his pocket. “C’mon Canada.”

“I don’t enjoy this anymore than you do.” 

***

Belgium sighed, the Liberation Guild had been struggling to keep their Guildmaster’s search for the artifacts a secret, plugging leaks and rumours that seemed to multiply tenfold with each word spoken.

“I’m asking for a raise.” She complained, opening her window and taking in some fresh air.

A loud screaming fireball zoomed across the sky, leaving behind a trail of smoke.

The branchmaster took her glasses off, covering her face with her hands as she held off a scream. Fuck all of this, she needed another duvel. 

“Must have been the wind.” She didn’t get paid enough for this bullshit.

***

Morning shined down upon the Kingdom of Art, the buzz of the city reaching even the highest floor of the Leaning Tower. Streets flooded with colour, graffiti covering the walls and stained glass over the windows, living the kingdom up to its name. In the city centre stood a giant statue, one made by former kings over the years that grew more detailed and grander with each new ruler. 

An old man and a young boy sat down at the base of the statue, the latter reading through a book as thick as a stair while the former fondly patted his head. 

“San, I’m not ready for this.” The boy frowned, shutting the book. 

“Vati, I’m sure you’ll do well.” San Marino smiled, his mouth covered by his long beard. “Besides, we waited all this time for you so a new ruler could be crowned.”

“I know, but why did they wait so long just for me?” Vatican asked. “They could have had an archbishop do it.”

“But then people would argue that Young Italy wasn’t truly crowned.” San said calmly. “And he didn’t mind all this time, and neither did the people. Just do your best.”

“It’s happening in two weeks.” Vatican reopened the book, a frown on his face. “I don’t want to fail the people.”

“And you won’t.” San chuckled. “If anything, Italy is more scared than you are.”

Vatican murmured something under his breath, to which San Marino laughed again. 

The old man sat there, humming a light tune before abruptly pausing and opening his eyes. “Do you feel that, Vati?”

Vatican closed his eyes, the wind lightly whipping his robes. A faint string of darkness like a passing tinnitus flickered at the edge of his senses. “Yes.”

“Something’s about to happen.” San stroked his beard. “You felt it a few days ago too, right?”

“The World Tablet was shattered.” Vatican recalled, unconsciously tapping a finger against the book cover. “Is one of the pieces here?”

“That is one of the things I’m afraid I can’t answer.” San chuckled, closing his eyes again. “Such a shame, the coronation is so soon yet all the signs point to a rocky road.”

“Ever since the Second Great War everything’s been more chaotic.” San mused. “More unpredictable.”

“Are you getting nostalgic again?” The boy gently elbowed San Marino. “I’m trying to read now, don’t get started.”

San Marino let out another chuckle. “Getting a sharp tongue now, aren’t you?”

***

Inside the Leaning Tower, the Crown Prince was facing a dilemma. His coronation was in two weeks and he barely had anything planned.

“What do you think, Rome?” Italy placed two sketches onto a desk, with a snap of his fingers the designs came to life, rising from the paper like small clay monuments. “After renovations finish on the colosseum would this design be better or this one?”

Before his advisor could reply, Italy pounded a fist into both designs and watched them fizzle back into paper.

“You’re right they both suck.” Italy sighed. “I need something truly wondrous for this, not something that will be washed away in the pages of history.”

“Coronations are only remembered as grand when the price is revealed to the public.” Rome narrowed his eyes. “Just pick whatever you think is best and stick with it. Renovations have been finished for months now, the only reason why we haven’t started putting up the decorations is because you keep changing your mind.”

Italy ignored his advisor. “Gold or rose gold?”

“Gold.” Rome replied.

“Rose gold it is.” Italy proudly began sketching a new design.

“Then why bother asking.” Rome hissed.

“Romeo, it’s about time you learnt that thinking aloud exists.” Italy clipped back, eyes not leaving the paper. “Diamonds or spades?” 

An awkward silence followed before Italy cleared his throat.

“I usually get an answer.” Italy said, tapping the back of his pen against the desk.

“With all due respect, please shut up, your Royal Highness.” A vein on Rome’s forehead bulged and he swiftly walked out of the room. He came back a few moments later, composure regained.

“I’m thinking that for the fireworks, we go really really big.” Italy leaned back against his chair, holding up his new sketch to the light and squinting with a tongue out.

“And how will you maintain a show for long at that magnitude?” Rome frowned. “Other rulers have only held it for no longer than 10 minutes.”

Italy smirked, rummaging into his pocket. “Yeah, but did they have this?”

He pulled out the artifact, tossing it up and down. “Imagine the show I can pull off with this.”

Said artifact had all sorts of paint over it, along with little messages and two googly eyes on top. 

“Are you serious?” Rome gawked. “Even when your ancestors had the World Tablet, they never used it for such theatrics.”

“Even better then, I’m the first to do it.” Italy grinned, stuffing it back in his pocket.

***

Artifact locations:

America: 1

Canada: 1

Russia: 1

Italy: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

“Almost there!” America yelled over the wind. 

“Ehh…?” Canada blinked back awake. He must’ve dozed off sometime during the flight. “What?”

“You were actually sleeping?” America glared at him. “How could you do that? What about me?”

“Yeah yeah, sorry.” He said, very much wishing he could go back to sleep. 

Tuning out America’s ranting, Canada snapped his gaze forward. Little buildings were closing in under them at an uncomfortably rapid speed, he swore he could see the colosseum.

“America, maybe it’s better if we slow down.” Canada suggested, tugging on his brother’s sleeve.

The Royal Palace of the Kingdom of Art was a giant tower, and they were hurtling directly towards it. 

“And now you're ordering me around.” America flared up, Canada shrieked as his brother loosened his grip and nearly dropped him.

“I’m not, this isn’t the time for a tantrum.” He scolded, swatting at his brother’s arm. “The Tower’s right there!” 

“Not funny.” America glowered. “You know—!”

“Brace!” 

An arm wrapped around his brother’s head, tugging it towards his chest as Canada used his body as a meat shield for his brother.

Glass shattered against his back as they smashed through a window, the wind was brutally knocked out of him. America flew out of his hands as they both tumbled across the floor.

A spiking pain bloomed along his head and back, Canada curled in on himself, clutching the edges of his sleeves as he gritted his teeth, sucking in a pained breath.

“Fuck…” America groaned, slowly sitting up amidst the glass-ridden floor. He slid his sunglasses back on, combing his hair back. “Canada?” 

He didn’t reply, eyes focused and shut as he concentrated on healing the damage. 

“Oh shit.” America’s voice fell, shuffling closer. “How long will this take?”

Canada weakly raised a finger.

A minute.

The sound of paper being brutally torn apart snapped Canada’s eyes back open, and the brothers turned to the other person in the room.

“You ruined it.” Italy, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Art, looked down on them from his seat, the desk in front of him broken in half.

“Oh hey Italy.” America greeted.

“This was my best one.” The pencil creaked in Italy’s fingers.

45 seconds.

“Ah, sorry about that.” America didn’t sound apologetic at all. “But you can just make another one, so no hard feelings right?”

A deep and eerie chuckle escaped Italy’s throat, his head slowly drifting down as the pencil snapped in half. “I can just ‘make another one’?”

“Yeah?”

30 seconds.

“What, did I say something wrong?” America asked innocently. 

Internally, Canada was shrieking. This was the Kingdom of Art, and if it wasn’t obvious enough in the name, destroying any sort of art was treason, especially the Crown Prince’s.

“Was that enough time?” America whispered to him. The damage done to his back was almost gone. “Are you almost healed?”

5 seconds.

“Maybe you are here to mess up my coronation.” A sharp clank sounded from a painting behind Italy. The knight inside the frame moved, drawing its sword and placing its hand on the frame.

“Good on you.” America said, oblivious to the knight stepping out of the painting.

Canada sprung up, shoving his brother out of the way as the knight swung its sword down. 

“I saw that.” America said, sunglasses askew. 

“Totally.” Canada scoffed. 

He caught his reflection in America’s sunglasses, his eyes were completely void black, with little crimson dots in place of pupils.

America flinched back, and Canada quickly looked away. 

“Sorry.” He apologized, hiding his eyes with a hand.

“Just take these.” America handed over his sunglasses, subtly shifting away from Canada.

He nodded quickly, sliding the sunglasses in place. They were a little too big for his head, tilting to the side, but they would do.

A sword swung between the two of them, slicing the carpet under them. America got back on his feet, pulling his fist back and delivering a flaming punch to the knight’s jaw.

“Rome!” Italy called out. The head butler immediately barged in, and the Crown Prince tossed over a sword from another painting.

America made finger-guns and fired, the flames piercing holes into the knight but it stood firm, unfazed.

“Dammit.” America clapped his hands twice and sent a scorching flame shockwave towards them. At this rate, America would run out of fuel fast and they would be cornered. 

His brother glanced at the window, his mouth cracking open in a shit-eating grin.

“Canada.” He opened his hands, hundreds of small tiny swirls of fire rushing out and filling the room. “Window.”

Knowing full well where this was going, Canada crouched down and reached the shattered window. Looking over the edge, they were way higher up than he thought they were. 

“Hey Italy, how much does that window cost?” America asked, sliding between the knight’s legs and hopping back onto his feet next to his brother.

The Guildmaster sat on the window sill, leaning back as he held onto Canada’s shirt, giving a faux salute and free-falling out the tower. 

He snapped his fingers and Italy’s office erupted in flames, Canada grabbed onto his arm as he propelled them down.

“See, it worked out fine.” America said, ignoring Canada’s screaming. He caught his sunglasses that were sliding off his brother's face and put them back on.

Canada was about to retort until he noticed what they were flying towards. “Americaaaaaa.”

“Hmmm?” America looked forward. They were hurtling towards a statue, a really massive one at that.

His brother aimed a finger at the statue. A spiral of flames blasted right through its torso, and they squeezed right through the hole. 

Canada shielded his head in his hands as they crash-landed onto the ground, launching out of America’s hand and headed right towards some stairs.

“CANADA!” America sprung back onto his feet, scorch marks burning into the ground as he surged towards his brother. His fingers wrapped around Canada’s wrist just as they got too close to the edge.

Canada breathed heavily as he looked at how far down the stairs went, and gazed back up at his brother. “Close call, thanks.”

He was pulled upright and America looked him over. 

“I’m fine. Ability, remember?” Canada gestured to his eyes that probably went back to normal seeing as his brother didn’t flinch away. 

“I just…y’know.” America grumbled, letting go of Canada and turning away. “It would be so lame to lose another brother to the fucking stairs.”

“I won’t die that easily.” Canada scoffed, dusting off his jacket.  

“Oh yeah, is this our problem?” America sheepishly gestured at the giant statue with a hole in the middle. “Kinda feels like it.”

“What.” Canada gaped. 

Screams and shouts filled the plaza as people scrambled away from the statue, with some idiots gawking there and taking pictures as their friends dragged them away. 

“Tch, I was getting to the good part.” A boy in white robes rose from the base of the statue, shutting his book and placing it down. 

Soldiers swarmed the plaza and surrounded the two brothers with their partisans and shields raised. 

“Your Holiness!” A soldier, presumably the captain, saluted the boy. 

“At ease.” The boy held out a hand and stepped past him. “I don’t think I was their target.”

Golden lights bloomed from the boy’s palms, swirling around the statue. Little sparks drifted around, micro bits of stone and debris floating into the air and clumping back together. Small bits formed into big pieces, fixing back into its place in the statue like its time was rewound.

“Arrest them, or whatever you are supposed to do to criminals.” The boy said, carelessly shrugging. He sat back down and opened his book. “I think I’m meant to forgive them but I’m not feeling it.” 

“Shit.” America set his hands ablaze, Canada gripped his pouch.

The soldiers stepped closer, America gritted his teeth scanning the encirclement for any weak points.

“When I give you an opening, run.” America whispered into his brother’s ear.

“What about you?” Canada asked.

“Your concern is duly noted and fucking disregarded.” America said. “Don’t get caught.”

“Psh, back at you.” 

One weak link, a soldier too afraid to look so he hid behind his partisan while moving forward with his eyes trained to the ground. 

America formed a fireball, shooting his hands out and everything in its path was charred. The poor soldier thankfully jumped out of the way, tumbling into two others next to him as their weapons clattered to the ground.

Canada dashed off, ducking under a partisan that swung just over where his head was. 

“After him!” The captain yelled before being struck by a fire fist. 

With a clap of his hands, hundreds of small ‘fireflies’ flew out from America’s palm, surrounding the soldiers. America snapped his fingers, and the entire plaza went up in flames.

His brother dashed off in the direction opposite him, with slightly scorched soldiers laying chase. 

Canada ran off into a series of graffitied alleyways, if he had the time he would love to come back and look through them one by one as a tourist and not as a fugitive. 

“Left!” He heard a soldier behind him yell as he dashed down another alley. These soldiers probably played in these streets as children, running around blindly wouldn’t do him any good much longer.

Something grabbed onto his wrist as he ran, nearly sending him flying off his feet as he was pulled towards the wall.

“What the—!” A hand clapped over his mouth. He was pulled through the brick wall and into a dark hallway.

“It would be best to be quiet, you wouldn’t want them to find us here, would you?” A fond old voice said, two cheeky eyes gleamed in the darkness. 

Rushed footsteps clattered past them, the soldier’s boots sharply clicking against the bricked road. Canada held his breath, gripping onto the strap of his pouch.

After his surroundings turned silent for a comfortable period of time, Canada exhaled and finally addressed the elephant in the hallway.

“Thanks for the save, Mister…?” 

“Just call me San.” The old man chuckled. “And who might you be?”

“Canada.” He said. “You really saved me there, I thought I was going to get caught.”

“I have never seen such a wild chase before, what did you do?” San didn’t seem mad, just curious.

“About that…” Canada didn’t even know where to begin. “We broke into the office of the Crown Prince, my brother probably angered him enough to get our bloodline cursed for 3 generations and tore a hole through the giant statue in the plaza.”

San stared at him blankly for an uncomfortably long amount of time before howling with laughter. 

“Through the Generations Statue!” He cackled. “Oh sweet irony.”

When the old man started wheezing Canada began to genuinely consider if he would need to do CPR.

“You okay?” Did he say something wrong?

“Everything’s fine, wonderful actually.” The old man hiccuped, and cleared his throat. “Nothing’s been going on for weeks since everyone has been preparing for young Italy’s coronation.”

“And here I thought I had to blow up something again in order for some fun.” The old man laughed to himself. 

Canada chose not to react to that.

“Now why are you here?” San finally calmed down. “I’m sure it’s not to cause trouble, you don’t seem like the type.”

“That is a secret.” As much as Canada would like to trust the old man, the Guild was already trying its hardest to make sure no one found out about their artifact business.

“Ah, everyone has their own things I guess.” San shrugged. “Let’s get out of here, it’s too stuffy.”

Canada quickly got up and lended a hand to San, who stood up and stretched a bit, his spine cracked so loudly Canada wondered if it accidentally snapped.

San Marino and Canada walked out of the hallway and back into the alley, which he realised was hidden behind a large work of graffiti. When he pressed a hand back where he walked out the entire wall was solid brick again.

“How…?” He turned to San, anticipating an answer.

“Something you learn to do as you get older.” The old man winked and walked down the alley. “Come on, you won’t get caught.”

“Why are we going back to the plaza?” Canada recognized the alleys he ran down. 

“Psh, no one will be there.” San Marino said. “They’ve all gone off running.”

“You sure?” Canada was fine running off and finding America.

“Trust an old man’s instincts.” San chuckled. 

***

Artifact Locations:

Canada: 1

America: 1

Italy: 1

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

The persistent fuckers won’t leave him alone. 

America bolted down the street, turning back repeatedly to fire more rounds of fire towards the guards behind him. Despite being faster, stronger and more agile than they could ever hope to be, he couldn’t help but shake the feeling he was only getting cornered. 

The streets were a mess of a maze, it was a wonder how citizens managed to find their way around. He only realized he was going in circles after seeing the same piece of graffiti four times.

He hoped Canada managed to get away. Most of the guards chased after him but a good amount still ran after his brother.

America noticed the Leaning Tower a few streets away and spotted another group of guards dashing out from another street towards him. 

Fire sparked in his hands and he propelled himself into the air, most of his fire was spent after melting the glacier and flying all the way from the alcoholic’s cabin to the damn tower.

He gripped onto one of the palace’s high fences and rested a leg on the fence bar. The absolute abomination of streets he just ran through now looked even more absurd now that he looked at it from higher up.

The guards were too low to reach him, even with their ridiculously massive partisans. Most of them looked at each other in confusion and hesitance.

“Huh, so Belgium was right.” America mused, tightening his grip on the fence. He recalled listening to Belgium rambling to her colleagues about random obscure laws of other nations; he quickly grew bored and left but that little eavesdropping did do him some good.

“I heard that no soldiers are allowed inside the Leaning Tower.” America taunted from up there, tilting his sunglasses down and  grinning when he saw the enraged glares of crowd of guards below. 

The captain, the one who saluted the young boy earlier, stepped forward. He said a few things to the soldiers below and they dispersed, leaving only a few with him. 

America shrugged and turned his attention back to the tower. The only way for him to get Italy’s artifact now was thievery. Canada would say something about ‘asking politely’ but his brother was a lame goody-two-shoes so he didn’t need to listen to him.

He let go of the fence and shot off into the air. There wasn’t enough fire for him to get into Italy’s office, so he resorted to breaking through another window.

Landing with a lot more grace, America dusted the glass shards off his sleeves and examined the room. It was a dim hallway, most of the light came from the windows at the front and end of it.

Paintings covered every inch of the hallway, the frames were blending seamlessly into the dark walls. America began to wonder if the carpet was also a massive painting. 

He slowly walked down the hallway, a small flame in hand. 

“This place is fucking creepy.” He muttered, he had seen much worse before, but something about the silence of the tower made everything feel wrong.

“Glad you think so.” A male voice said. 

America instantly spun around and fired at a painting behind him.

“Man, you are fast.” The voice remarked.

America realised it was Italy speaking through the paintings. He turned towards a painting of a young man sitting on a chair. His breathing hitched when he saw that it was looking right at him.

“You messed up something I took a long time to figure out.” Italy clicked his tongue, the painting moved as if it was his face. “Then you have the nerve to come back after insulting my work.”

America dodged to the side as three cupids flew out of another painting and shot an arrow where his head was. 

“I know you are here for my artifact.” Italy said. A nun holding a staff stepped out of the painting and swung at his head.

“And you won’t get it.” The painting smiled. A horse with a knight riding on it stepped out of another painting, a pirate hopped out of a boat and a wolf bared its teeth. 

“I need it for my coronation.” A manic smile crossed the painting-man’s face. 

America pressed his body to the wall as the horse dashed by, ducking down as the knight’s sword sliced through the air and into the walls. The cupids’ arrows nicked his hair, giving him an impromptu haircut.

He clapped his hands twice and sent a wave of fire spreading all across the carpet. The heat began to build up in his body, if he used his abilities too much he would get a fever. 

The paintings shrivelled up and reappeared in their respective frames. Not waiting to see if they could respawn, America escaped out of the hallway and kicked open a door and saw a stairwell. 

With a painting of many many many spiders. 

America stared at it, and many many many eyes stared back. 

“FUCKKKKK!” America bolted up the stairs as thousands of the bloody compressed nightmares writhed out of the painting. 

He swore he could hear Italy cackling in the background.

Flames swirled in his hands, and America blasted the shit out of the damned motherfuckers until he was sure not even a corpse remained. He risked looking down and blasted the shit out of the painting too just to make sure. 

“Fuck you.” 

He opened the nearest door and checked the hallway. Oddly enough, there weren’t any paintings, not that he was complaining.

America closed the door behind him, eyes warily watching for any movement.

A sudden thump came from behind one of the doors. America approached it and twisted the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. 

He melted through the doorknob and kicked open the door.

“What the fuck.” 

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it definitely wasn’t a tied-up guy in his underwear.

The guy twisted around, he had a gag in his mouth with ropes around his wrists and ankles. 

America knelt down and pulled out the gag. The guy looked really familiar for some reason but he couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

The guy violently coughed and took a while to catch his breath, America took the time to burn through his restraints. He noticed how the guy seemed a little scared of the fire so he made it quick. 

“Thank you for finding me.” The guy cleared his throat. “But I’m afraid we have to hurry, the Crown Prince is in danger.”

“From what exactly?” America raised an eyebrow, standing up as the ropes dropped to the ground. “Who are you?”

“Ah, my apologies.” The guy shakily got back up on his feet. “I am the head butler of the Leaning Tower, Rome.”

America finally remembered that he was the man who dashed into Italy’s office and used a sword. 

“What happened to you?” America asked. “I don’t think anyone other than me broke into here.”

“I don’t know what happened here for the past few days and frankly I don’t care.” Rome walked out of the room, still in his undergarments. “Italy isn’t safe.”

“Wait.” America paused. “What do you mean ‘a few days’? I saw you in his office an hour ago.”

“That isn’t me.” Rome said, eyes sharp. 

***

After painting the texture of glass over paper that fit directly into the former window, Rome and the knight in the room quickly installed the new window. He had lost track of America within the tower and went back to sketching ideas.

Something was bugging Italy for a while now, it was probably nothing major but a few things have been odd about his advisor. 

Maybe it was how he never picked at his beard when his fingers got twitchy, or how he put his gloves on in a different order.

Or maybe it was the fact that Rome didn’t even flinch when the Liberation Guildmaster brought out a flame.

“Rome.” Italy called his butler in. He tapped the back of his pencil against the desk, mind lost in thought about his butler and the coronation. 

“Your Royal Highness.” Rome swiftly entered. There was nothing off about the way he held himself, maybe Italy was just being paranoid.

“What do you think?” Italy held up another sketch and got out of his chair. 

As always, before Rome could respond, he crushed it in his hand. Except this time, he sketched a small flame on the paper and set it alight. He tossed it into the air, trying to see his advisor’s reaction.

All Rome did was roll his eyes and sigh.

“Are you feeling alright, Rome?” Italy asked. “If you’ve got a fever you can rest for a couple days. The paintings can do the normal chores.” 

“If I were to leave I fear you may forget the world still works and forget your duties as Crown Prince.” Rome said with an amused smile. 

“Psh, I’m not that bad.” Italy scoffed and his eyes closed. 

The temperature in the room dropped as he spun around and held a sword to his advisor’s neck.

‘Rome’ stood there calmly with his hands still behind his back, a benign smile on his face.

“Where is Rome?” Italy glared into the impersonator's eyes, shifting the sword closer to their neck. “What did you do to him?”

“It seems that recent events have taken a toll on your mind.” ‘Rome’ sighed, shaking his head. “Perhaps it would be best for you to take a rest.”

An arm wrapped around his neck and jerked him back before a punch hit into his back. 

“Permanently.”

Italy swung the blade around towards the man behind him. Spots of blood splashed onto the floor, barely visible against the dark carpet.

He clutched his abdomen, the soreness spreading a distortingly numb feeling over his torso. While readying the sword with his other hand, his hand almost slipped away at how wet the wound was. 

The horrifying metallic smell of blood filled the room, and Italy looked down to see a hole in his stomach, bleeding with blood dripping down. 

The man kicked the back of his knees and he collapsed forward, his head limply hitting the carpet as a thin trail of blood seeped out of his mouth.

“The Tsarina sends her regards.” The man said into his ear as he felt the artifact being pulled out of his pocket.

As the man left the room, Italy forced his arms to move. Slowly pushing himself back up, using the sword as a brace.

The echo of a bullet filled his ears and tinnitus filled the air. The world turned into a blurry mush as Italy saw the floor tilt. A scorching pain erupted in his chest as the nauseating smell of iron surrounded him.  

The fury that filled his veins was washed away by the pain and the cold nothingness of the unconscious.

***

“No time to waste.” Rome put on a shirt and pants he pulled out of a nearby painting that was hidden in another room. 

“Is your ability similar to Italy’s?” America watched, fascinated. 

“I guess.” Rome answered. He uncovered a painting hidden behind a blanket which had a rather inappropriate image of two people. 

“Come here.” Rome gestured him over, frowning when he saw America looking away from the painting. 

“You cannot be serious.” Rome clicked his tongue. “You are a grown man, just get over here.”

“Why do you even have something like that?” America kept his gaze turned away while inching closer to Rome.

The crack of a gunshot echoed through the air and America’s head snapped up towards Italy’s office. 

Rome cursed under his breath and grabbed onto America’s sleeve. He pulled the two of them into the painting, sending them falling into an endless void of swirls and spots. 

Everywhere was a blur of black spots and dizzying colours when Rome pulled them out of the painting, but the metallic smell of blood snapped him back to reality.

Rome rushed to the side of a body lying in the carpet, gently trying to shake him awake. In the middle of the room was Italy, lying in a pool of his own blood. 

“Holy shit.” America pinched himself out of shock and crouched down next to Italy’s body as well.

“Italy, it’s me.” Rome cradled the Crown Prince in his arms. 

America placed a hand at Italy’s neck and his shoulders relaxed slightly when he felt a heartbeat.

Slight gasps escaped Italy’s mouth, laboured breaths as he slowly opened his eyes. 

America cursed, he wasn’t fast enough to fly all the way to the Empire of Darkness to get Poland to heal Italy.

Suddenly, the shelves in the room began to shake and the paintings groaned as they hit the walls. Rome protectively clutched onto Italy’s body as America smacked away a book that fell a little too close to him.

Italy’s head jerked forward but still hung limp, Rome tried to coax him into leaning back down but the Crown Prince didn’t, no, couldn’t hear him.

Italy’s attention snapped towards America, his hauntingly eerie eyes shook wildly as he creepily observed the Guildmaster.

“Uhhhh…you good?” America asked, offering a shaky thumbs-up. 

A knight stepped out of the painting, and another, out of the same painting, followed, knights kept walking out until they began to crowd the room. Winds began to pick up despite there being no windows and Rome still gripped onto Italy as the knights stepped forward.

Italy stood up.

The knights dissolved into ink and paint, mixing together into an unholy mixture which swirled into the air and began to float like bubbles above Italy’s open hand. All his wounds stopped bleeding, even the gunshot wound on his chest. 

Red eyes looked back at America, and the mixture started clumping together over Italy’s arm. 

America immediately made some distance between the Crown Prince and him. He had seen this phenomenon happen before, it was a rare occurrence that only happened when an ability user was near-death or in an extremely heightened emotional state.

“Rome, Italy is going through an uncontrolled ability awakening.” America gritted his teeth. Uncontrolled ability awakenings usually ended in chaos and destruction, taking the lives of innocents nearby and the ability user themselves. 

America lunged forward. If he could knock out Italy again, maybe the awakening would stop.

Italy’s head snapped towards America again and he pulled his fist back, blank eyes sharpening into manic ones. America realised it was too late to dodge.

A gigantic mush of paint, ink and graphite collided against America’s body, he felt his back crash through the brick walls and out of the Leaning Tower.

***

Artifact Locations:

Canada: 1

America: 1

Russia: 1

St Petersburg: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

Back at the plaza, San Marino led Canada back to the reformed statue. The young boy from earlier was still there, albeit a little frustrated, but still engrossed in his book.

“Vatican.” The old man called out to the boy. Vatican looked up from his book with a scowl. 

“I look away for a second and you’ve gone and made friends with a criminal.” He said, judging Canada. Canada brushed it off, he was used to being looked at like that all the time in the Royal Palace.

“I believe that the incident with the statue earlier was a simple mistake.” San Marino said, sitting down next to Vatican.

“There aren’t any guards around?” Canada noticed the lack of security around the crash site.

“I sent them away, besides they have something else at the Leaning Tower to deal with.” Vatican dismissively waved his hand. “Your brother broke in again, they’ve gone and surrounded the gates around the tower.”

Canada noticed another broken window on the side of the tower and sighed, sliding a hand down his face. 

“Hang on, how did you…?” No one outside the Guild knew America and him were brothers.

“Your highness, a chaotic pair of brothers like you two are hard to mistake.” San Marino chuckled, stroking his beard. 

“I’m not a prince here, just Canada is fine.” Canada corrected. Titles should remain within the palace, right now he was the Guild Secretary of the Liberation Guild.

San Marino chuckled again, leaning back against the base of the statue. 

“What do you think of the artifacts, Canada?” The old man asked, patting the ground next to him. 

“The faster we get all the pieces, the faster the World Tablet can be fixed.” Canada answered mechanically. He sat down next to San, adjusting his pouch to face away from the old man.

“Mhm, do you know why you are collecting them?” San Marino asked.

“I’m not collecting them, I’m just helping Ame.” Canada said. An uneasy bitterness swelled in his chest, but he shoved it down and buried it deep.

San Marino’s eye twitched, sensing something off.

“The little thing in there says otherwise.” The old man subtly gestured at the deer pouch around his chest.

Canada froze, fingers gripping stiff around the straps. The world blurred into a blank space with his heartbeat thundering in his ears.

San Marino chuckled permeated through the air, and he rested a warm hand over Canada’s. 

“Relax, I’ve learned how to keep a secret or two.” He raised a finger to his lips and winked.

“What do you want?” Canada inched away from the old man, releasing a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding in. 

San just chuckled.

Light vibrations shook the ground and the statue began to creak. A strong gale swept through the plaza, with dark clouds suddenly rushing over the city.

Canada immediately stood up again and turned to the Leaning Tower, San Marino jostled the boy next to him and told Vatican to put the book away.

A loud explosion rocked the sky and the side of the tower was blasted open, a wave of ink and paint poured out of the side of the tower like a waterfall as a man flew out. 

Canada watched as his brother was thrown out into the air, shooting towards the ground at an alarming speed.

Something snapped inside him, his eyes voided over and his crimson pupils gleaming as they focused on his brother. He leapt into the air, his legs replaced with the muscular ones of a Wendigo.

One antler grew out of his forehead, his claw-like hands carefully wrapped around his brother and pulled him close to his chest. 

The roof of a building was crushed as they landed and Canada jumped off back towards the direction of San Marino and Vatican.

The tiles snapped apart from the force as he landed, the ground caving in. Canada gently crouched down and placed his brother on the ground.

“What the fuck.” Vatican said.

“Language, Vati.” San Marino scolded. He stroked his beard, eyes shining with curiosity at Canada’s odd form.

His ability allowed him to turn into a monster, the Wendigo. After an incident when he was child, Canada was banned from using his ability unless absolutely necessary.

“Do I need to exorcise him?” Vatican asked, pulling out a cross from inside his big sleeve.

“I’m not possessed.” Canada quickly responded, his singular antler shrinking back into his head. 

“Vati, do you mind fixing him up?” San Marino gestured at his brother. America’s sunglasses were missing a few bits, and blood was seeping out of a head wound.

Vatican huffed but didn’t refuse. He knelt down and hovered a hand over America’s chest, the golden light swept across his body. 

“FUCKING HELL!” America jolted awake, jerking his head forward and colliding into the boy’s head. 

Vatican yelled out curses that a child his age shouldn’t know before being pulled away by San when he looked like he was about to smack his giant book against America’s head.

“Where—what, oh hey Canada.” America frantically looked around before noticing his brother. “You would not believe what just happened.”

America jumped up on his feet and dusted himself off, even his sunglasses were back in one piece.

The statue behind them creaked loudly, and one of its arms moved. Slowly, pieces of the statue began peeling apart, layer by layer and drifted in the winds like paper towards the gigantic swirling tornadowhatthehellisthat.

Hovering in the air outside the Leaning Tower was the Crown Prince Italy, with the space surrounding him being filled with a spinning mess of dark paint strokes. Another man was clinging onto him by the ankle, trying to get his attention. 

Around them, bits of paint from the graffiti began flying off the brick walls, all drawn towards Italy like moths to a flame.

The different clumps of paint closed in together, still swirling like currents in the sea, creating a titanic humanoid figure. Italy vanished beneath the surface, near the ‘heart’ of the Titan. 

“Uncontrolled ability awakening.” San Marino and America said. 

“What did you do?” Canada turned to his brother, gaping. 

“Long story short, some guy stabbed and shot him and then this happened.” America explained, only confusing Canada more.

“We need to knock him out.” America said, gesturing at the titan behind him kicking apart a building like it was a pile of leaves. The Titan was growing larger the further it went into the city. 

“Ame, I don’t think—” Canada was cut off by his brother flying off into the air.

***

America felt great. Whatever the hell that kid did to him refilled him with fire again. 

He zipped across the air like a laser, colliding head on into the Titan. His fire scorched a hole in the side of its chest but was quickly filled in. 

A massive hand swiped at him, he ducked down and flew above the Titan. A giant ball of fire swirled in his hand like a miniature sun, hovering over his fingertip.

He flinged it at the Titan’s head and it roared, the flames covered its entire back before instantly being smothered. America followed up with spears of fire aimed towards the newly healed parts and diving towards it like a missile.

The Titan groaned, and a third arm clawed its way out of the Titan’s back, raised and poised to slap America out of the air as if he were an insect.

His foot was clipped slightly as he propelled himself into the air to escape, going over the Titan’s head. 

A pair of dark green wings burst from the Titan’s back, similar to the ones on the statue on the plaza. America cursed and clapped his hands together, his palms lit up and hundreds of balls of fire shot out of his hand. 

Amidst the storm of flames he fired at the Titan, he flew among them, aiming for the centre where Italy was. 

A hand covered his vision and America was smacked out of the air and down into the destroyed city from below. 

He was caught by a pair of large hands and he looked up to see his brother. 

Eyes red with an antler on his head and his size doubled. 

“I assume this situation permits me to use my ability?” Canada asked, setting him back on his feet.

“Yeah.” America said, avoiding eye contact and pushed his sunglasses higher up. “Just don’t eat anyone.”

Two clawed hands around his neck, red eyes looking into his own.

“I won’t.” Canada said. 

“Any ideas on how to fight this thing?” America asked, gesturing towards the Titan which had lost interest in him and went back to destroying the city. 

“You can’t run at it mindlessly, we need to get to Italy directly.” Canada pointed out. 

“I know that.” He said like he totally didn’t do that a moment ago.

Canada gave him a deadpanned stare and sighed. 

“Can you try to distract it? Try to keep it in one spot.” Canada asked, focusing on the Titan’s chest. “Then I’ll go in and knock him out.”

As much as America would like to deal with the Titan alone, it would be easier with Canada with him. “Sure.”

He shot off into the air, dodging the extra hands growing out of its back and delivering a flaming punch at the Titan’s head. It turned around and swung another punch at him.

“Fuck you.” He raised the finger before flying around to the other side of the Titan. 

America snapped his fingers and flames wrapped around his arms and legs, extending and growing into gigantic limbs. A flame torso and head formed around him and America discarded his glasses to the side, navy blue eyes burning with excitement as the Fire Titan ran towards the Art Titan. 

The Fire Titan drove a knee into the Art Titan’s gut before punching it in the face. A harsh wind blew, distorting the flames slightly and revealing his manic smile.

The fire arms split apart and coiled around the other limbs, holding it down. 

“CANADA!” America shouted.

His brother ran towards the Art Titan’s chest and delivered a flurry of strong punches to its middle. Canada slipped in through a hole he created before it was sealed up again. 

The Fire Titan’s entire being flickered violently. America wiped away the sweat on his forehead, he could feel his fire slowly running out.

“Anytime now would be damn brilliant.” America said, grunting when he felt the Art Titan suddenly growing in strength.

A smaller hand shot out from the side of the Art Titan, cutting through the flames and grabbing right onto his arm. 

“Shit.”

The Fire Titan vanished into the wind as America was pulled out of it. The hand swelled in size, growing into a massive fist that grabbed his entire torso. 

America hissed and tried to summon more fire, only for a sudden weakness to flood through his body.

“Oi Canada!” America yelled, thrashing in its grip. “You done?”

Something shot out of the Titan’s chest, it was another fist with a person gripped in it. Canada’s head hung limply, any trace of his Wendigo form gone. 

Something fell from his throat into his gut, the disgusting cold sense of dread filling his stomach. His brother rose into the air as the Titan pulled back, readying to throw his brother into the ground. 

He struggled in the Titan’s hand harder, and still no fire came out. 

“CANADA!” He screamed.

The flooding sensation of adrenaline coursed through his everywhere and America’s eyes lit up bright red, a familiar warmth blooming in his hands.

Fire erupted and blasted the hand to bits. America cut through the air and destroyed the hand holding his brother. Canada landed in his hands, head lolling to lean against his chest. 

One of his arms was crushed, with the other bleeding profusely with a thorn-like pattern covering the both of them like a spiky vine had curled around it. 

A shadow covered the two of them, and America looked up with horror as a gigantic hand hovered above them. 

America pumped every bit of fire left in him into flying away from under it, propelling him out as it slammed down. 

Weakness swept through him. He threw out a hand, trying to slow their fall with a shot of fire only for small clouds of smoke to puff out.

He pulled his brother’s to his chest with his back towards the ground, keeping his eyes shut as they fell.

His shoulder rammed into something tough and they collided into the ground. America felt a deafening snap in his back but kept Canada in his arms as they tumbled. 

America’s vision went white, and the world turned into blissful silence. 

***

Someone jostled against him and he felt a pair of hands gently shake him.

“Guildmaster.” An old voice said warmly. “Sorry, I just had to check if you were alive.”

A sudden surge of strength flew through him, America opened his eyes to see the kid and the old man from earlier crouching over him. 

“Don’t try to move.” The old man placed a hand on his shoulder and kept him still. 

“I can only do so much.” The boy panted as the golden light coming from his hands dimmed. Both the old man and the boy stood up.

“Canada…?” His voice croaked.

“Next to you. We laid the two of you.” The old man said as he stroked his beard.

America’s hand shifted to the side slightly, and he felt his brother’s hand brush against his. 

“There is another one, however.” The old man said. Out of the corner of his eyes, America could see another man nearby.

“This one…” The old man knelt down next to him to pick up something. It was a small rock, painted and decorated but undeniably an artifact. 

The boy looked at it with incredulity and fascination. “What…?”

“A certain man hurt Italy and caused all this.” The old man looked down at him. “Fortunately, the two of you happened to land right on top of him. He was trying to get away with this.”

The artifact in his pocket buzzed in response. 

“You have one too.” The old man stated, he seemed to have known for a long time. “Why didn’t you use it?”

“I’ve seen the withdrawal symptoms from using that damn rock up close.” America lightly chuckled. “Besides, there’s no fun in cheating.”

“‘Fun’…is not ending up like this.” Canada groaned. America would have screamed if not for accidentally biting his tongue. 

A sudden explosion came from somewhere unsettlingly close to them. America tried to get back up only for the old man to push him down again.

“You’ve done enough.” He said, gently patting America’s head. “This is a problem for Kingdom of Art to solve, so let us have a try.”

The old man passed the artifact to the boy who flinched as another crash sounded close by.

The Titan’s foot hovered over them, an imposing and terrifying shadow that covered the dark sky. America felt Canada’s ice-cold hand hold onto his.

The winds whipped at their hair as the foot fell towards them, yet America kept his eyes open, watching it with calm eyes. It was funny, dying to something like this despite everything he went through.

He closed his eyes, hoping it wouldn’t hurt.

The pain never came.

America’s eyes opened again, widening in surprise as the Titan’s foot was stopped just metres from them. A strained squeak came from the boy who fell down in shock. 

A chuckle rang out from somewhere near him. America craned his neck back to see the most ridiculous thing in his life.

The old man gave a nonchalant smile as he held up the Titan’s foot with one hand. 

“Is everyone alright?”

***

Artifact Locations:

Canada: 1

America: 1

Russia: 1

Vatican: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

“Is everyone alright?”

Three pairs of eyes stared at San Marino, who singlehandedly held up the Titan’s massive foot with a friendly smile on his face.

He tested out the weight, raising out his other hand to aim. San Marino grinned as he threw the gigantic foot as effortlessly as a ball right back at the Titan, blowing dust and debris away. 

The old man dusted his hands off on his robe and rolled his shoulders back, bones cracking. “A little rusty I must admit.” 

“…the fuck?” The Liberation Guildmaster looked at him with wide eyes.

“Language.” He clicked his tongue lightly and strolled over to Vatican. 

“Old man, since when could you do that?” The young boy looked frantically between the massive Titan and the old man, eyes filled with incredulity and confusion.

“Answers can be given later.” San patted the boy’s head. “Just hold onto the artifact for now.”

Vatican blankly nodded his head and clutched the artifact close to his chest. San Marino held onto his hand and walked off towards the Titan.

“Where are we going?” The boy asked, flinching as a loud crash shook the ground.

“To save our kingdom.” San chuckled lightly like the answer was obvious. Vatican shot a weak glare at him.

The old man’s feet lifted off the floor slowly, as did the young boy’s. Vatican squirmed in the air as they rose higher and gripped onto San Marino’s robe like it was his lifeline.

They could see the Titan clearly, it smashed its foot into another large building and swung at the falling debris. 

“San, why are we going towards it?” Vatican asked nervously as they flew closer.

“Because it is the cause of the problem.” San answered. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it hurt you.”

The Titan’s head swung around and saw them, clearly angered by its failed attack. Vatican screamed as it sprinted towards them. 

One of its arms lashed out, covering their entire view. San Marino raised its hand into a ‘stop’ gesture and the moment it touched his fingers it froze. 

San chuckled cheekily and waved his hand aside, all the paint dispersed into small wisps and drifted in the air. The old man tightened his hold on the boy’s hand and they flew closer to the chest of the Titan.

He raised his foot and kicked open a hole in its chest, flying through before it closed. 

“No wonder Canada couldn’t get through.” San muttered. The entire inside was filled with murky thorny vines that would quickly fill in any holes, and Italy was nowhere to be seen. 

San Marino held out his hand and the vines withered away at his touch. As more vines came in from behind, the old man broke through the vines faster, blindly going through in search of Italy.

A shout was heard somewhere above them and San Marino parted the vines away. 

“Get off!” A voice screamed. 

“Rome?” Vatican recognized the butler’s voice. 

The vines shrunk away to reveal large clearing. Italy was hovering in the centre, eyes blank and numb with blood staining his clothes. Rome was thrashing in the vines that tangled around his limbs, slowly pulling him into the thorny chaos.

San Marino placed his hand at the area around Rome and the vines withered away. 

“Thanks.” Rome sat up, rolled his wrists and kicked the vines in muted fury.

“Are you hurt?” Vatican asked the butler, who wasn’t injured like Canada was. 

“No, I’m special.” Rome said. There were puncture marks in his sleeves but no blood.

“Italy didn’t react to anything I said.” Rome said as they hovered closer to Italy’s body. “Screaming didn’t work.”

“He isn’t dead.” San Marino said. A silent ‘yet’ hung in the air.

“Any ideas, San?” Rome asked, holding onto Italy’s shoulder. 

The old man remained silent, pondering as he stroked his beard. 

“I’ll have to use my mindscape.” San finally said. 

“You still have it?” Rome asked, surprised. 

The mindscape was an ability only experienced awakened ability users could use once. San Marino had lived long before the Empires and Kingdoms were created, he had awakened his ability thousands of years ago yet he never used his mindscape even once.

“Protect Vati and I while we go inside.” San Marino told Rome. 

“Don’t take too long.” Rome said. “I can’t see what was going on outside but I’m sure it isn’t pretty.”

“You have no idea.” Vatican said dryly.

San Marino chuckled. He closed his eyes, letting the weightlessness take over his body while tightly holding onto Vatican’s hand. 

***

Vatican stumbled once he felt his feet land on the ground. A hand caught onto him and held him upright, his blurry vision cleared to see San Marino warmly looking down on him. 

They were in a dark hallway. Candles lined the walls, leading to a window at the end. There was a young man sitting at the edge of the window sill, the moonlight cascaded down, leaving his soft silhouette on the carpet.

“Where..?” Vatican started before San Marino raised a finger to his lips.

“Who’s there?” The young man asked. Vatican flinched and gripped tighter onto the old man’s hand.

San Marino chuckled, stepping towards the young man. 

“How are you, Italy?” 

As they moved closer to the young man, it was indeed the Crown Prince, albeit a little younger. There was a weight under his eyes and he gave them a tired smile. 

“San, what are you doing here?” Italy asked, sliding off the window sill and landing on the carpet.

The smile he gave sent shivers down Vatican’s spine. The metallic smell of blood wafted through the air, something in Italy’s hand glinted the moonlight, the shine of a blade.

Vatican recoiled back and hid behind San Marino. “He’s got a knife.”

“He does.” San Marino commented. 

Now that Vatican looked closer, there was blood all over Italy’s clothes and one side of his hair was drenched in red.

Italy looked at the knife in his hand and froze, as if surprised to see it there. He looked out the window before throwing the knife out. 

He turned to a room nearby with its door ajar with bloody footprints coming from it and then back at his stained hands.

“This is a dream, isn’t it.” Italy realised, voice relieved but bitter. “Of the night I killed my father.”

The space around them shattered as the walls washed away into black. San Marino gestured for Vatican to step forward as the boy hugged the old man’s leg.

“Well done.” San said. Italy beamed.

“What are the two of you doing here?” Italy asked. 

“Italy, what is the last thing you remember before falling asleep?” San Marino asked back. Italy’s brows furrowed as he tried to recall the answer.

“I was in my office.” He started. “I was speaking with Rome and…”

“Someone stabbed me?” Italy combed his hair back, his eyes widened when he pieced together his memories. 

“That wasn’t Rome, it was another man. He stabbed and shot me and then ran away.” Italy said. 

“Hang on, am I dead?” Italy panicked, frantically looking around. “Is this the afterlife?”

“Not exactly.” San Marino chuckled and patted Italy’s head. Italy jokingly brushed the old man’s hand away.

“You had an uncontrolled ability awakening.” San explained. “Your ability went haywire and destroyed most of the city already. We came to bring you back.”

“Destroyed?” Italy winced. “How bad?”

“Yes.” 

“My coronation is going to be delayed.” Italy grumbled under his breath. “How many people…?”

“I sent out an order for the guards to evacuate the citizens to the underground bunkers.” San Marino chuckled.

“So I just need to wake up and the destruction ends?” Italy asked. 

“I suppose so, but there is something you and Vati need to do first.” San Marino gently nudged Vatican forward. 

“So you’re the little pope I waited 10 years for.” Italy gave him a cheeky yet warm smile, patting his head. 

“Hands off.” Vatican tried to swat Italy’s bloodstained hand away to no avail. Curse tall people. 

“The artifact.” San Marino said. Vatican had forgotten he was holding onto it the entire time, he opened his palm, where the artifact had dug small wrinkles in his skin from gripping it too tight.

“It’ll boost your ability, try and use it to reverse all the damage.” San explained. 

“I don’t think that’s possible.” Vatican said, looking down at the small rock. He had never used his ability at such a magnitude before. 

“You’d be surprised.” San Marino hummed. 

The ground shook and white cracks shot across the floor. Bright light burst forth from the cracks as the area shook harder. 

“It seems our time is up.”

***

Rome impatiently waited in the air. The vines were growing dangerously closer to them with each passing moment and all Rome could do was tug San Marino and Vatican’s lifeless bodies away from the creeping vines. 

“Hurry up old man.” He mumbled as the entire clearing shook.

“What the hell happened here?” 

Rome turned around and a small laugh of relief bubbled out of his throat. The Crown Prince blankly looked around, confused, his hands spinning circles as he tried to keep his balance. 

“It worked.” San Marino said. 

“Rome, you’re here too?” Italy asked, gesturing at him. 

“Of course I am!” Rome smacked Italy’s head and gestured at the vines around them. “You trapped me in here!”

Italy rubbed his forehead and finally noticed the vines. “Huh.”

“Does anything hurt?” Rome asked. Italy noticed his bloodstained clothes and hands and grimaced.

He cautiously patted his torso. “No, somehow.”

“Uncontrolled ability awakening.” San Marino said as if it explained everything. “No time to waste. Try to disperse the Titan.”  

Italy flexed his wrists and rolled back his sticky sleeves. He held out a hand and took a deep breath. The vines that were crowding around them shrivelled back instantly, erased like pencil lead. 

“It’s…easy.” He marvelled. The Titan was being unbuilt faster than it was created. The wind carried the bits of paint away, creating the illusion of a flock of birds flying through the air. 

Rome’s heart sank into his gut when he saw what was left of the Kingdom of Art. Crumbled buildings littered the ground like breadcrumbs with a musty haze blanketing the sky that left the air tasting of smoke, dust and ash. 

At least the Leaning Tower was still intact.

“Vatican.” San Marino patted the boy’s back. “Your turn.” 

“I’m not ready for this.” The young pope said, nervously gripping onto the artifact. 

“Just wing it.” Italy slapped Vatican’s back, giving a shaky thumbs-up.

“I’ll guide you through it.” San Marino placed a hand over Vatican’s small ones. “It’s easier with two people.” 

The boy nodded, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. 

A soft golden light bloomed from Vatican’s palm, seeping through his fingers and scattering through the air like fireflies. The artifact glowed blinding white and hummed, a rumble that made Rome’s insides throb.

Like a puppet on strings, the city slowly began to fix itself. Pieces of debris rolled and hopped over each other before connecting itself with another piece, the cracks between them sealed as if no damage had been done. 

Small bits of paint that had vanished into the air clumped back together, drifting back towards the walls of reformed buildings. In the middle of the plaza, the Generations statue was reassembled from the feet-up with the new addition of a thorny crown over its head. 

The artifact’s light dimmed back to normal and Vatican’s body went limp, exhausted. San Marino caught him and hugged him close. 

“Well done.” He tenderly combed his fingers through the boy’s fingers.

They were lowered to the ground, landing in the cleared area between the Leaning Tower and the giant fence around it. The moment Italy’s feet touched the ground, his body fell forward. Rome clicked his tongue and caught him.

“I’m going to take a nap now.” Italy said, closing his eyes. “Good night.”

“Why you—!” Rome shook the Crown Prince’s shoulders as he snored. 

San Marino’s body jerked forward in a coughing fit, Rome caught the faintest trace of red along the old man’s lips. The old man wiped away the blood with a grim smile with the back of his hand.

“San?” Rome asked, worried.

“It’s the recoil from using the artifact.” San Marino explained, rubbing his hand on the underside of his robe to hide the stain. “Vati is too young to go through this, I took the damage for him.”

“But still…” Rome gritted his teeth. The artifact slipped out of the boy’s fingers, San caught it and put it in his pocket.

“Relax, I don’t think we would need to use it anytime soon.” San Marino reassured him. 

***

Artifact Locations:

America: 1

Canada: 1

Russia: 1

San Marino: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

Italy’s uncontrolled ability awakening was something right out of a fever dream. In under an hour, the Kingdom of Art was destroyed by a giant before being put back together by the power of god. It was understandable that many citizens were still in denial that the entire situation happened, including Rome.

The butler/advisor/guardian of the Leaning Tower picked up a scorched painting in one of its stairwells, only a part of the frame was left intact and the walls nearby were covered in soot. 

“So that’s where it was.” He hummed. When Italy had awakened his ability as a child, he happened to have multiple paintings of spiders lying around, which meant that on some nights Rome would find entire floors swarmed with spiders. He had hidden the paintings in areas rarely visited so the young prince would stop terrorizing the staff of the Tower. 

Rome left the painting there. Memories were nice, but not having these tiny terrors around were better. 

The familiar sound of a loud whizz came from outside and Rome rushed to the window. A trail of sparks shot through the night sky before an earth-shaking boom released a massive explosion of red into the air. 

Rome rushed to the nearest painting(which was the scorched spider one) and jumped in. After swimming through the spiralling void of stars and spots he found the exact painting to come out of.

He jumped out of the painting and onto the roof of the Leaning Tower. 

“Hi Rome!” Italy waved, holding a set of drawing tools between his fingers. 

“What are you doing?” Rome sighed with underlying resignation as he approached the Crown Prince.

“Creating fireworks.” Italy said. “Check this out.”

The paintbrush in Italy’s hand swished around like he was drawing on imaginary paper, except there was ink coming out. He continued to draw in air, highlights and shading blooming out of the paint. 

He snapped his fingers, and a firework mortar dropped into his hand.

“After my ability awakened, I could paint on any surface.” Italy explained, amused with Rome’s confused expression. “Including air.”

“And you are firing fireworks?” Rome asked, gesturing at the other firework mortars being stuck in some sort of contraption. 

“Who’s going to stop me?” Italy snarked. “Now you can’t complain about the coronation fireworks being too costly.”

“I never said that.” Rome frowned.

Italy went silent, eyes melancholy. 

“Then it must have been the imposter I was speaking to.” Italy said softly.

The Crown Prince shuffled over to the row of fireworks and lit them up with a swipe of his brush, the small dots of flames landing on the fuse.

He backed up next to Rome, beaming as the fireworks soared into the air. Italy’s eyes glittered in a rainbow of colours reflected from the lively night sky, wonder and joy that hadn’t left him since he was a child.

Italy cleared his throat and peered at him nervously. “Just wondering, but what did you think of…my dad?”

“The late king?” Rome asked, surprised at the sudden question.

“Yeah.” Italy nodded quickly. 

Rome narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the Crown Prince. Italy’s eyes were trained to his shoes, fidgeting with his fingers. Not much made Italy anxious, the butler’s heart sank slightly and relaxed his posture. 

“He was a jackass.” Rome scowled, crossing his arms. “Glad he’s dead.”

Italy perked up, “what if—” 

“Italy, I know you killed him.” Rome said, chuckling at Italy’s shocked expression. “Who do you think told the guards to stay clear of that hallway?”

“I…” Italy started. “You really knew the whole time?”

“I hated him, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” Rome said. “I’m bound to serve your family, regardless of how I think.”

“Is it possible to free you then?” Italy asked.

“That would kill me.” He said, pulling down his collar to reveal a collar-like mark around his neck. “This thing would decapitate me if you tried.” 

“Rome…” 

“No need for your pity, I’m content with serving you.” Rome shook his head and tugged his collar back up. Italy was one of the best leaders he had served for centuries, he would ensure that this future King would rule for longer than all the others, no matter the cost. 

Italy frowned in disapproval, puckering his lips. “You don’t have to serve me, go on vacation or something.”

“The kingdom wouldn’t last a day without me.” He replied wryly. “The events of today are enough evidence.”

The Crown Prince shot Rome a playful scowl, reminiscent of his younger self. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“San Marino’s older.” Rome said.

“Nope, pretty sure you are at least a millennium older than him.” Italy nodded. “I’ll even ask Lady France about it.”

“You sneaky brat.” 

***

“Mr Marino?” Canada hesitantly knocked on a door. After the ability awakening chaos died down, Canada and America were moved to the Leaning Tower to recover. San Marino had told them to meet him after they woke up. 

The door creaked open and the old man waved them in with a polite smile. “Just San is fine.”

“Why did you call us over?” America asked, flopping onto one of the armchairs. Canada took the one next to him.

The room wasn’t empty, but it hadn’t been decorated. Plain wallpaper and a couple paintings that America was paying an awful lot of attention to hung on the walls, with only a few sofas lying around.

“So hasty.” San chuckled, sitting down opposite the two of them. A light pulse that shot around the room, a bone-deep rumble that struck like a chord. Canada’s fingers unconsciously trembled and he turned to his brother. 

America noticed it too, subtly glancing around the room.

“You all felt it, good.” San Marino said. He slid a hand into his long sleeve and took out a rock. An artifact sat in his palm, and the hum of energy buzzed violently. 

America cautiously took out the one in his pocket, eyeing the artifact in San Marino’s hand.

“It’s a reaction that the artifacts give off when they are in close proximity with many others.” San Marino explained, clenching his fist. His eyes drifted over the two brothers, hovering a little longer on Canada.

A warning.

If Canada wanted to keep his ownership of an artifact, he would have to be cautious of other artifacts as well.

“Interesting.” His hoarse voice commented, he cleared his throat. 

“The reason why I brought the two of you here today, is to ask for your help.” San Marino started.

“Vatican’s identity as the pope is known through the city, so it was fine for him to be put in the open. But the public don’t know who I am.” San said.

“Some of them may have caught a glimpse of me in the air, fighting the Titan or using the artifact with Vati. I’m asking for your help in hiding my identity.” The old man said.

“Hiding?” Canada asked.

“In the newspapers, either have them label me as one of your guild’s members, or write me off completely.” San said, head lowered. “Take credit for the Titan’s destruction.”

“But you were the one who did that.” America said, frowning.

“Yes, but the world doesn’t need to know that.” San Marino chuckled.

“Yeah they do, it was you who did almost everything.” America’s fists clenched, Canada placed a hand over them to calm his brother down.

“Me and Canada didn’t last long against the Titan but you cleaned up the entire situation without breaking a sweat.” America continued. “You deserve the recognition.”

The old man raised his eyebrows and leaned back, calmly tapping a finger against his thigh. “I didn’t take the Liberation Guildmaster to be the kind to turn down any chance of gaining more fame.”

“I’m not.” America shamelessly admitted. “But at least I have enough respect for people stronger than me not to take credit for what they have done.”

A curious gleam lit up in San Marino’s eyes as he hummed with amusement. “What has you so insistent?"

“Fame isn’t something easily held onto, with your power you could have done anything you wanted, even become King.” America said. “Why are you choosing to stay incognito?”

“I have been asked that a lot, mainly by Rome.” San Marino said. “When you’re my age, you’d realize that blending into the shadows is a lot simpler than living a lavish life.”

“Sounds boring.” America snorted.

“Think as you wish.” San stood up and passed the artifact to Canada. 

“You’re giving it to us?” Canada’s eyes widened, confused.

“There’s no use for it here.” San Marino reasoned. “That young Kaiser living up North also gave his artifact away, didn’t he?”

“That one was for a different reason.” Canada said.

“Thanks.” America slid over and swiped the artifact out of Canada’s hand.

“What was that for?” Canada snapped, glaring at his brother. An unfamiliar surge of hungry anger blasted through his veins as he shot to his feet. 

America surprisingly shrunk back, which made Canada guilty enough to stand down. It was only when America gestured at his eyes did Canada slowly reach a hand up to his head.

One antler had grown out of his head and his eyes had shifted into crimson. 

“I didn’t mean…” Canada traced a hand over his antler. It still hadn’t shrunk back.

San Marino’s hand landed on his shoulder and his red eyes and antler vanished as quickly as a switch was flipped. Canada looked back at the old man, who smiled.

“A Wendigo transformation ability.” San observed. “Be wary of it, it might consume you if you try to fight it.”

“Which is why he won’t.” America said, standing up and stuffing both artifacts in his pocket. “Can’t fight it if it isn’t there.”

For the first time, San Marino shot a deadly glare towards America from behind Canada, burning eyes that might have drilled a hole through him. And in a blink of an eye, a smile was painted over San’s face.

“San—”

“Don’t listen to him, just exercise your own judgement.” San Marino said softly for the two of them to hear. “It’ll save someone one day.”

“We’re heading off now.” America grabbed onto Canada’s arm and led them towards the door. “Thanks for the artifact, old man. We’ll keep you off the papers.”

“Good luck.” San Marino chuckled. “Use the top of the Leaning Tower. It’s high enough that you won’t have to worry about crashing through any windows.”

“Thanks San.” Canada beamed and waved before being yanked out the door. 

***

Artifact Locations: 

Canada: 1

America: 2

Russia: 1

Unknown: ?

***

Chapter Text

“TWO OF THEM!” 

“Mhm.”

“TWO PEOPLE—RIGHT INTO MY HEAD!” 

Belarus shuddered as she heard a loud shattering sound come from the infirmary. She knew Peter had anger issues, but she didn’t expect them to be so serious. Three light knocks rapped against the door and she patiently stood outside as the noise quieted down.

Heavy footsteps came up to the door and the door creaked open. Volgograd looked down at the young princess, who was no taller than his torso. 

“Volgo, you’re here too?” She asked. 

“Tsarevna.” He was just as surprised as she was. “What are you doing here?”

“Someone was shouting, and since Moscow’s here there isn’t anyone around to scold Peter.” She huffed, crossing her arms. 

“Come on in.” Volgograd held the door open for her. 

St Petersburg, the Second General of the Pale Empire, sat grumpily in the centre bed, his head wrapped in a thick bandage. 

“Why are you shouting?” Belarus pulled a chair much too high for her and hopped on. 

St Petersburg shot a glare at Volgograd who shrugged and leaned against a pillar, amused.

“Is it because you failed the mission?” She knew the generals took their duties seriously, she rarely saw them around.

“Do you want to know how I failed?” St Petersburg asked back, leaning back against the bed. 

He dramatically gestured at his head like it answered everything. 

“Tsarevna, what’s the weirdest thing that you have ever seen fall out of the sky?” He asked.

“A dead pigeon.” She said.

“Have you ever had two people fly out of the sky and slam into your head?” He rhetorically asked, exaggeratedly waving his hands. 

“No.”

“Well that’s what happened, TO ME!” He yelled, jabbing a finger at his head. 

“I had the artifact, I was escaping the kingdom while all was good and next thing I know the freaking Liberation Guildmaster and another guy smashed into my skull.” He ranted. 

“That sounds painful.” Belarus commented.

“No shit.” He snorted, which earned him a glare from Volgograd for cursing in front of a kid.

Belarus turned her attention to the other general, who had his arm in a sling and a thick bandage around his shoulder. 

“How did you get that?” She asked.

“A not-so-dead pigeon fell from the sky with a spear and stabbed me.” He gestured at the wound. St Petersburg didn’t even try to hide his laugh, light snickers quickly shifted into full-on cackling.

Volgograd glowered at St Petersburg, looking increasingly more tempted to shove his head into a wall the more he laughed.

Curt knocks came from the door and it opened on its own, and on the other side was her sister. Volgograd and St Petersburg immediately straightened up and moved to bow. 

“At ease.” Russia chuckled lightly. “This isn’t the throne room, you don’t have to be so formal.”

“Tsarina, even if you think so we would still rather pay the proper respects to you.” Volgograd sighed but a warm smile spread across his face.

“You’re making it sound like I’m dead.” Russia said. “Bela, you’re here?”

“Yeah, Moscow isn’t here to make Peter stop being noisy.” She teasingly tilted her head towards the bedridden general.

“Tch, you would be grouchy too if two people flew into your head.” He sourly snapped.

“Was that what really happened?” Russia asked, amused. Volgograd gently shut the door behind him.

“If it didn’t happen then we would have another artifact.” St Petersburg grumbled. 

“Moscow has gone over to the Silks Empire with North Korea to find the other artifacts.” Russia informed them. “Instead, the two of you will oversee the Neo World Tablet project.” 

“Neo…?” Belarus curiously asked.

“A secret project, I’m sorry but you’re not meant to know this.” Russia said apologetically.

“Do I have to leave now?” Belarus pouted. 

“Sorry Bela, but I have to send new assignments to the generals.” Russia patted her sister’s head, a fond smile on her lips.

“You better not overwork them, make sure they have time to rest.” Belarus said, fiercely raising a finger in scolding.

“Yes I won’t.” Russia chuckled.

“See you later, Tsarevna.” St Petersburg lazily waved. Volgograd held the door open for her. 

“Bye Volgo, bye Peter.” 

***

The moment the door shut, Russia let out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t expected her sister to be there when she came in to brief the generals.

“She’s gone.” Volgograd finally said. 

“Good.” Russia sat in the chair next to St Petersburg. 

“Pardon my impertinence, but is Tsarevna’s knowledge about the project so consequential?” Volgograd asked, voice low and respectful. 

“As much as I hate keeping her in the dark, knowledge of this project should only be between the people involved.” Russia frowned.

“Remember Ukraine?” St Petersburg added with a scowl. “Don’t get me wrong, I trust the little Tsarevna. But if she reacts like her brother did then we may face more than a couple complications.”

“Rumours are already floating around about Ukraine’s sudden disappearance in the palace.” St Petersburg said. “If we lock up Bela as well, all we’ll get is backlash.”

Russia cleared her throat and both generals focused back on her. 

“The Liberation Guildmaster was last seen travelling across the border to Asia.” Russia said. 

“I’ve already informed China of his appearance though he’s been expecting it.” Russia said.“America already has two artifacts, I have faith that China will prevent him from collecting more.” 

“That crafty bastard’s always up to something.” St Petersburg shrugged. “Can’t tell what’s going through that head of his.”

“Peter, whether you like him or not he is still a valuable ally.” Russia said firmly.

“Would such a ‘valuable ally’ try and take the World Tablet from you?” St Petersburg shot back.

Russia tried to refute but nothing came up.

“We lost the chance to bring back your father.” Volgograd added softly. “Peter is right. Even if he is our ally, we can’t afford to trust him too much.”

“I…” She knew they were right, but it was hard to suspect someone she grew up with. 

“You’re young and experienced.” Volgograd said, “it isn’t naive to trust in others, but you have to know how far you would place that trust.”

“We may have a joint enemy, but that doesn’t mean we are friends.” St Petersburg said, “we didn’t mean to lecture you, we just hope you stay wary of people around you.” 

“If this is about my brother—”

“It might be.” Volgograd cut in. St Petersburg shared a confused look with Russia as they turned to him, expecting an answer. 

“Regardless, we’re getting off topic.” He shook his head. Russia was grateful for the break in tension, even at her age she was still being taught many things.  

“There was another man who was with Poland, I haven’t identified him yet.” Volgograd shuffled out a piece of paper from pocket.

“Give it over.” St Petersburg gestured with his hand to pass it to him.

“Can you even see it right?” Russia teased, her shoulders relaxing. 

“I’m concussed, not blind.” St Petersburg said, offended.

“Of course.” She hummed.

The Second General squinted at the paper, holding it at varying distances from his face.

“Have you ever considered the possibility that he is the Kaiser?” St Petersburg suggested.

“Impossible, they look completely different.” Volgograd said.

“Same ability, familiarity fighting with Poland, same-ish height I presume?” St Petersburg said.

“Hmph.” The Third General huffed at Peter’s spot on deduction.

“Even so we can’t do anything about it.” Russia started. “We can’t declare war on them on something as simple as this.”

“I can—”

“No.” Both Volgograd and Russia shot down his idea before it could be spoken. 

“Assassination is not the answer.” Russia scolded. 

“Neither is torture.” Volgograd added.

“Tell that to Moscow.” St Petersburg grinned at the amusing state of their conversation.

“At least he hasn’t killed anyone with his experiments yet.” Russia refuted. 

“You sure?” 

“…he has?” Russia hesitantly asked.

“Maybe.” St Petersburg replied.

“I swear, Volgograd’s the only sane one among you three.” Russia rubbed the heel of her palm against her head.

“I’m afraid I won’t be sane much longer.”

***

Chapter Text

Three individuals sat around a round table, two seats empty. 

Three days ago, the World Tablet was discovered before Britain shattered it to pieces and scattered them around the world. Two were in the possession of the Liberation Guildmaster while one was in the hands of the Pale Empire, the others were sent to powerful individuals able to defend themselves and their artifact. 

The holographic map of Asia in the centre of the table was focused on the central palace where the Young Emperor China lived, he was quiet, making no movements to obtain the artifacts, seemingly content in falling behind in a race for power. The people in the room knew that the Young Emperor was waiting, just like they were, for the right opportunity to start hunting. 

“Bear and Pearl.” A voice broke the thoughtful silence, South Korea clicked his tongue. “It seems they won’t be joining us.”

“Revolutionary business.” Japan concluded for him. 

“They’ve been skipping meetings for weeks.” Singapore pointed out, gesturing at the empty seats. “And remained uncontactable.”

“Another protest broke out in the north in case you were curious if he was alive.” South Korea informed him. “Pearl was with him.”

“I know that.” Singapore said, adjusting his glasses. “What I mean is that it wouldn’t have hurt them to spare some time to respond with a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“Enough chatter, why did you call us over so suddenly?” Japan cut in, mild impatience underlying her tone. 

“I was getting to that.” South chuckled, unbothered by her prickliness.

The hologram shifted into a man standing in the middle of an airport. He had navy blue hair, with an eyepatch with a red star over an eye and a stiff expression on his face. He looked right at the camera, aware of its presence. 

North Korea had returned to Asia. 

“My brother has returned.” South started, voice cracking as he spoke. 

“I assume this means you’re going through with that ridiculous plan.” Japan said, frowning at his image. She pressed a button on the side of the table and the picture changed back into the city.

“Yes, and the two of you along with me.” South said.

The white noise of the air conditioner suddenly became extremely loud, plunging the room into a tense stillness. South calmly observed the two of them, serenity in his eyes. Japan glared daggers into him as Singapore uncomfortably shuffled in his seat. 

“No.” Japan answered. “Absolutely not.” 

“I’ve already decided.” South ignored her. 

“Kidnapping is illegal.” Singapore pointed out.

“Only if they find out.” South said playfully. 

“And I won’t be much help.” Singapore added. 

“No.” Japan repeated. “Why are you even trying to bring him back? He left to join China years ago.”

“He was brainwashed, or blackmailed.” South said confidently. “I’ve—we’ve got to bring him back.”

“You better have some fucking good presents for the two of us.” Japan snapped but didn’t argue with his decision anymore. South took that as a good sign. 

“I have more of your mother’s lab locations.” South said, tapping a finger on the table. As much as he didn’t want to hand it over, Japan was the only one who knew what to do with the information, regardless of how much it disturbed him.

“Singa, I learned that you were looking for a pair of guns that were discontinued a decade ago.” South chuckled at his surprised expression. 

“How—?” Singapore asked.

“Crafty bastard.” Japan lightly scowled. 

***

America’s ability to transport them to different places had its limits. Last time Canada checked, his brother wasn’t able to cross entire continents in a single journey. But apparently the fight against the Titan had further developed his brother’s already-cracked ability so it would be able to be used for much longer. 

Which was why Canada was now flying halfway across the world while being carried like a sack of potatoes. It had been 6 hours. 6 hours in the air and America wasn’t even breaking a sweat.  

They had entered the airspace of Asia, cutting through Silks Empire, China’s territory.

There was just one problem, the entire area was filled with buildings and not a single clear area for them to land safely. And Canada really didn’t want to fly through another window.

“Are you sure you know where to land?” He asked again, painfully craning his neck up.

“Yeah, I know a friend’s place I can crash at.” America’s reply was the same. “He won’t mind.”

“Last time you said that we got hunted by an entire military.” Canada shot back.

“I thought this one through, we can’t land just anywhere in Asia.” America responded, actually having a voice of reason.

Asia was known for its strict rules and laws, a simple mistake could have massive consequences. The Young Emperor China ruled with an iron fist in Silks Empire, with other people in power taking up residence in areas outside the capital. 

If Canada’s memory was right, they were heading towards Melodic’s Valley, an area renowned for entertainment and music. The Acoustic’s Guild looked over the city, led by South Korea and a strong ally of the Liberation Guild. 

“Ame?” Canada asked.

“Yeah?” 

“You do know at least half the city saw us, right?” Canada was sure that a ball of fire zipping through the air would cause a stir.

“It’s fine, Belgium will handle it.” America shrugged. 

Canada shuddered as the image of Belgium hurling another book in America’s face flashed across his mind. He did not want to be there when her fury was unleashed. ‘Handle it’ she would, doing it without seething vengeance and swearing to destroy his bloodline she wouldn’t.  

His brother’s arms tightened around him as they descended, aiming towards a landing pad on the top of a building. And of course there was a helicopter on it. 

“AMERICA!” He yelled over the wind.

His brother said something, but between the loud fluttering in his ears and his surroundings blurring into smudges Canada couldn’t hear it. 

America twisted Canada’s body around so his brother wasn’t facing the ground and stretched a hand out towards the ground. Flames built in his palm, and released in a long rod of fire to the landing pad, slowing down their fall into a gentle glide. 

America’s feet landed lightly, like a bird to a branch. Canada was pulled out from under his brother’s arm, and placed upright, his brother patting his shoulders with a smile.

His stomach did enough flips to win a competition and bile rose in his throat, legs weak from hours of flying nearly crumpled. America caught him as he began to sway again.

“Tch, you’re so weak.” America said lightly, but Canada could see the subtle trembling in his brother’s legs and hands. Flying for that long definitely exhausted him, but his brother would rather die than admit he was tired. 

“Mhm.” He nodded, unwilling to open his mouth as the nausea violently swirled in his head.

Canada looked around to try and distract himself, eyes drifting towards the open door that led to the helipad. America managed to skillfully land just next to the helicopter in a feat of precision he was sure his brother didn’t possess two days ago. 

In the doorway stood two people, staring at them in varying levels of shock. 

“Yo.” America waved. 

South Korea, who had dyed his hair to another colour(pink) again, dropped his jaw. Rubbing his eyes to check if he wasn’t hallucinating before slapping his cheeks awake. 

While the woman standing next to him looked at the two of them in confusion, combing back her long white hair that blended into red in the middle before fading into white again. Canada swore he saw her before, but he couldn’t quite place it. 

“You alright?” No they weren’t, and neither was he, Canada thought.

“America?” South Korea asked. 

“In the flesh.” He said. 

“What are you—how did you get here?” South Korea’s voice cracked. 

“Flying.” 

“But—you were in the Kingdom of Art. Asia’s at least—9 hours by plane.” South Korea raised up his fingers, frowning. Canada stiffened, it seemed that the Liberation wasn’t able to hide every trace of their artifact hunt.

The woman stepped forward, eyes flicking between the two of them before landing on America. Her eyes were bright as sparkling rubies, sending small chills down Canada’s back.

“Japan, how are you?” America greeted her, only this time his voice was filled with mock and rhetorics.

“I was doing better before you arrived.” She spat, disdain and fury evident.

Japan stormed over to America, who didn’t take a single step back. Little ripples radiated around her, shaking the air like a mirage. Canada tried to pull his brother back, but his brother shook his hand off.

“How’s your mother?” America said, looking down on her.

“How’re your towers?” Japan shot back. 

America’s eye twitched at the remark, his tell for when he was irritated. Even with his sunglasses, Japan could tell she managed to get to him. Little flames sparked at the back of his hand that flickered dangerously close to his jacket sleeves.

“Excuse my interruption, but if the two of you are going to fight I would recommend you do it outside the city.” A curt voice cut through the tension. 

America and Japan sharply glanced down to the source of the voice, a young man wearing glasses who was significantly shorter than the two of them. 

Maybe ‘short’ was an overstatement since everyone else here was ridiculously tall, he was probably only one with average height.

“Who?” America glowered at him.

“Stay out of this.” Japan snapped.

“I’m not wrong, am I?” The young man clicked his tongue. “I happen to know a mountain that could use a little flattening.”

“Tch.” Japan scoffed and sharply turned around, speed-walking back into the building. 

The young man rolled his eyes and readjusted his glasses. He was definitely not with them a few minutes ago, he was in the helicopter when America and Canada had arrived.

He immediately snapped his head to the two brothers, eyeing Canada suspiciously.

“Hi there, I’m Canada and this is America.” Canada introduced them.

“I’m Singapore.” The young man, Singapore, said. He kept his distance, just out of arms reach from the two of them.

“Even if we are near the outskirts, it would be wise not to provoke anyone here.” Singapore placidly informed America. “Especially Japan, don’t even think of going near her. I don’t want to deal with another tsunami.”

“Noted, thanks.” Canada said, elbowing his brother’s side. America scoffed. 

“If you’re here to collect artifacts, discretion would be advised.” Singapore said. “But considering the entire Empire saw you two shoot across the sky, you may as well throw that idea out the window.” 

“We didn’t enter their airspace until an hour ago.” America said. “Does news always travel this fast?”

“You’d be surprised.” Singapore said. “A lot of people are tracking your movements.”

“Speaking of artifacts…” America started.

“Actually, Singapore, Japan and I have a meeting in 3 minutes.” South interrupted them. Canada forgot he was there. 

South grabbed onto Singapore’s shoulder, practically dragging him due to the height difference. 

“I can walk.” Singapore irritatedly shrugged him off. 

“Mind if I tag along?” America asked, strolling into the building alongside them.

“No.” South didn’t bother to entertain him.

“And the midget does?” America gestured at Singapore.

Singapore sharply spun around, raising his leg and kicking it into America’s groin with perfect form and startling accuracy.

“FUUUUUUU—” America cried out, slowly and dramatically crumpling to the ground. South and Canada winced in sympathy as Singapore glowered at him. 

“Shut your mouth you fucking ceiling duster.” Singapore enunciated each word, teeth grinding so hard that Canada could hear creaking. 

Just as Singapore looked like he was about to pounce on America like a rabid cat, South looped an arm around Singapore's chest and carried him off like he was a mannequin. 

“Fucking hell.” America spat, trying(and failing) to stand up.

“Deserved, honestly.” Canada said.

***

The moment South closed the door behind him, he plodded to the nearest seat and flopped into it. Pink hair fanning out on the table as he rested his head in his arms. Singapore slid into the seat opposite and brushed imaginary dust off his vest. 

“How the fuck is he here so damn early?” Japan snapped, rocking her chair back and forth with her legs kicked up on the table.

“This messes up so many things.” South complained, lifting his head. “Why did he have to appear now?”

“He’s a freak force of nature.” Japan scowled. “You’d have better luck trying to predict a tsunami.”

“It’s not that hard actually—”

“One more word out of your mouth and I’ll make sure it stays shut.” Japan threatened Singapore, who raised his hands in amused surrender. 

“Just out of curiosity, but do either of you currently have an artifact in your possession?” Singapore abruptly asked, eyes pausing on South rather than Japan.

“Left mine at the Guild.” Japan said, confused. “Why?”

“Nothing.” Singapore had a small grin on his face.

“Regardless,” South interrupted, straightening up and brushing his hair back. “We are still going through with the plan, just hope that America doesn’t fuck anything up in the next 10 hours.”

He rummaged through a small drawer next to him and pulled out a thick file, sliding it across the table to Japan. She cocked an eyebrow in surprise and flipped it open, satisfied as she skimmed the papers inside.

“Thanks.” She swiftly shut the file. 

“Singa, the guns will take another day.” South said. “I’ll hand it over tomorrow.” Singapore sighed and nodded, but wasn’t disappointed.

“Do we actually have any plans for this?” Japan budged in. “I don’t think we can simply wing a kidnapping.”

South pressed a button on a remote and the hologram of China’s palace fizzled onto the table, arrows marking the potential entrance routes they could take.

“As much of a secret operation this is, it’s likely that we’re going to be seen.” South pressed his lips into a thin smile. 

“No.” Singapore rejected the idea before South could voice it, shifting further back into his seat. Japan looked between the two of them in confusion, eyes asking South for further elaboration.

“Disguises.” South proposed. “Change our entire appearance and go in as an entirely different person.”

“Not to be that person, but your hair’s fucking pink.” Japan snarked. “Might as well bring a spotlight and have it shine over you.”

“Hence the disguise.” South said.

“And how long will it take for your perfectionist ass to settle on a hair colour that isn’t neon?” Japan dryly asked. 

“But it isn’t neon?” South ruffled his hair.

“We can just go in with cloaks.” Japan said. 

“I second that.” Singapore said.

“I’ve already got the Guild’s fashion department on it.” South refuted. 

“Make me look like one of your damn idols and I’ll give you a matching eye to your lovely brother.” Japan scowled.

“I’d rather die.” Singapore muttered under his breath.

“Relax, I’m not going to treat the two of you like barbies.” South reassured them to no avail, a smug grin on his face. 

***

Artifact locations:

America: 2

Canada:1

Russia:1

Unknown:?

***