A/N Its been a while, hasn't it? I haven't neglected my other stories, but if I don't write this I will go bonkers. New fandom, same writer. As always, flames will not be tolerated, and until some kind souls offers their services, this will also be unbetad. I don't know whether this classifies as an AU or not, but I hope that it will keep even the most rabid fan amused and entertained.
Warnings: violence in the first chapter, racists slurs, angst, sexual situations later.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything that may be recognised, sadly. If I did, Germany would have kissed Italy a LONG time ago!
The change was slow at first, so slow that most of them didn't even notice. England would make a suggestion, and be told that his suggestion was not in the interest of the British Empire. France tried to suggest something other than constant warfare, something that would help boost the economy of his country, like farming, and would be ignored. America would try desperately to keep himself together, as his country geared up towards civil war, and be shouted down in the Presidents office, something that had never happened before.
Even the Italies found themselves becoming more and more ostracised from their government, something that had never happened before.
As the 19th century drew to a close, things happened at a faster pace. Walking into his Palace one day, Sweden found himself barred from entering, and was told that the royal family didn't want to see him. He went home, confused and agitated, to find himself in an empty house. Finland was missing.
Russia woke up one day to find himself confined to his house, unable to leave. His sisters, Belarus and Ukraine, were dragged into the house three days later. Belarus had her hair cut off, and Ukraine wouldn't speak. Russia didn't need to ask what had happened to them. He just hugged his sisters and prayed that everything would be alright.
In Prussia, the former super power, it was as bad. Prussia himself had not left his rooms for weeks, lest something happen to the blond lying in the bed. He didn't trust the guards at his door not to do something to the former Holy Roman Empire. His red eyes solemn, he glanced at the door and then down in the bed, where his brother sweated.
"Keep breathing, Bruderling, please." He pleaded, running a hand through short blond hair.
England was slowly coming to terms that he himself was not allowed to move from his own house, and so he let himself dream of a better time. His brothers, Ireland and Wales, and his sister Scotland, had disappeared long ago.
Canada was confined to a small room in America's house, not even allowed to see his brother. American himself had not seen the daylight for 10 months.
Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg had confined themselves to a windmill outside of Amsterdam, not allowed to enter the city for fear of persecution.
Switzerland, Austria, Hungary and Liechtenstein had been cooped together in the same dungeon for nearly a year before they were allowed to wash.
The change was gradual, so slow that by the time the nations realised that they were being taken away from their own countries, separated from the land that they had claim to. It was a physical ache to them, not being able to touch their land, to influence their people, to see the sun.
It was the first time in the history of the world where countries had come together in unison and harmony, but their agenda was far from peaceful.
On the 20th June 1899, the leaders of every single country in the world met to decide what would be done with the personifications of their nations.
On the 25th, the decision was made.
On the 30th, the plan was carried out.
They were driven in trucks, big cattle trucks, where they were crammed cheek by jowl.
No one complained. It was a long drive, and each person took turns in sitting down, every person agreeing that the young ones would be allowed sit on the floor indefinitely.
The drive took three days and three nights, and when the time came for them to be unloaded from the trucks, most of them could barely stand. When the door was opened, the people closest to the exit fell to the floor.
"Get up," the guard grunted, poking the prone body of Seychelles with the point of his gun. "Get up and walk, blackie."
"Leave her alone.," croaked Cuba, picking up the small island country by the arm and hefting her over his shoulder.
"Out you get." The guard ignored Cuba, and yelled to the other countries as they shuffled into the sun. China and his family blinked, huddling close together as they staggered out of the truck. They weren't the only ones staggering. Out of a neighbouring truck, Wales carried the prone body of his sister Scotland, whilst Ireland and England helped each other walk. Behind them, Europe staggered out in drabs, most of the countries unable to walk in a straight line due to starvation and atrophy of the muscles.
Prussia helped his brother walk down the ramp, the newly christened Germany barley able to see as fever raged in his body. Behind him, the Italies followed, both too scared to cry. South Italy clutched at Spain's hand, unable to protest at the display of affection.
When all of the countries had climbed out of the trucks, and stood blinking at the dull sky, the guards stood in front of their trucks, and the guard who had offended Seychelles grinned and uttered one word.
"Run."
He pointed his gun at Seychelles, and fired, putting a hole through her shoulder.
Hungary screamed, and bolted in the opposite direction. The field in the middle of Russia, the most isolated place that could be thought of, became a field of blood. Hungary only got three yards before she was shot in the spine, with Austria following soon afterwards.
Denmark soon found Norway, who was crouched by the still body of his brother, pleading with the island to wake up, please wake up! Denmark tried to grab Norways shoulder, but found himself meeting empty air when Norway himself collapsed, a hole in his head ending his life.
The Asian countries didn't make it far before they too were gunned down, none of them able to move without leaving the rest of their family. In his last dying moments, Japan crawled to the body of a brown haired man, who was weeping tears of blood.
"Please," whispered the man.
"Soon." Japan said, laying a hand over his eyes and laying down beside him.
Russia didn't make it a step before he body failed him, the blood on his land too much to bare. Ukraine had died in the truck, and Belarus made it the furthest before she too was hit.
When Switzerland ran at the gunmen, they laughed, and shot him many times. Liechtenstein cried out in horror, and tried to run towards him, but was dragged back by a man with a scar on his head, and a bloodied blue and white scarf.
"Run, please run!" he cried. He didn't get further, before he whirled around and took the bullet meant for her. Liechtenstein cried, and joined him.
Finland was finally reunited with his husband, and he wept loud tears and he rocked back and forth, clutching the body to his breast.
Egypt and Turkey had fallen together, each holding a hand.
England ran until he found America, and did not run further. He lay beside the body of his former colony, kissed his forehead, closed his eyes, and did not breathe again.
France tried to run, he really did, but when he found the body of Scotland, who like Ukraine had died before shots could be fired, he simply stood and waited to be gunned down.
Spain himself didn't get far feeling a bite into his thigh, and he fell down with a cry.
"Spain!" Romano cried, and pulled him up by the shoulder.
"Leave me, run! Please Romano, save yourself!" Spain pushed him away, and fell down.
"No, I wont leave you, I wont!"
"Now is not the time to be stubborn, please Romano, go!" Spain's cries didn't matter. Romano had remained too still for too long.
"Fratello!" Veneciano cried. He tried to move towards his brother, but a strong hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
"No, Italy no!" Italy turned his head and saw Prussia staggering away, heaving a blond over his shoulder and Italy by the arm.
"My brother, take my brother." Prussia pushed the blond into Italy's arms and staggered back into the field, following the blood to a blond haired, violet eyed man, who lay staring with blank eyes at the sky. Prussia folded himself on the ground, and knew no more.
Italy found himself running as fast as he could, trying to help the young blond nation to escape, to live. He didn't get far, when, like his friends, he felt the bite of the bullet in his back, and he fell. The blond man tumbled to the ground, not moving except to breathe harshly in the cold air.
"Danke," he rasped, turning his head to look into Italy's eyes, "danke for trying."
"Si." Italy said no more, not until he looked deeply into the pools of blue and realised that he knew that face. His eyes watered. "Holy Rome."
"Was?"
"You…are…Holy Rome." Italy gasped, crawling closer to his former love. He grasped those strong hands and kissed them. "I know your face."
"Ich heisse Germany." The blond nation shook his head.
"You may have a different name, but I know your face." Italy kissed him on the cheek, and lay against his chest, now gasping for air. Germany himself did nothing, but clutched at the hand holding his, and stared at the sky, tears leaking into his hair.
When the last cries had finished, and the field was silent, the men, laughing and joking, packed up their trucks and left.
The field was filled with smoke, and the bodies of the former countries lay on the ground, growing cold and hard.
"Why?" asked the red haired woman, bending down and closing the eyes of South Korea.
"Humans are arrogant." The silver haired man, the tallest of the group, replied. He walked to where Russia and Ukraine lay, and gazed at them sadly.
"I don't know." A similarly silver haired man stood over the bodies of the Nordics, his eyes looking at the figures of the broken Scandinavians. He eyed Sweden and Finland, who were curled in a circle around the shadow body of a young boy. A boy who possessed bushy eyebrows and light brown hair. Scandinavia shook his head. The death of a boy who didn't even exist hurt him more than he could say.
Two women, both so similar and yet so different, walked through the bodies, each identifying who was who and how they died. They didn't say anything, but their silence spoke for itself.
"I shall kill them." The man with the noble presence, the one dressed in the armour of an imperial solider growled into the still air. His companion didn't say anything, but his frown deepened, and his green eyes looked with sorrow on the broken bodies of the former nations.
"How did they die?" The red haired women asked. A dark skinned lady shook her head, her black hair moving slowly in the breeze.
"They died because they were killed by humans." The Roman Empire spoke, his voice shaking with anger and hurt. Germania nodded and went to close the eyes of his grandson, Germany. His hand shook as he laid it on the face of the country, who had been so young and at the same time so old.
Britannia shook with anger, and beside her, Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt held hands and offered her support. Agu shook with sorrow behind them, and Ancient Egypt reached out and arm and laid it on her shoulder, drawing her into the circle.
"Can we bring them back?" Kievan Rus asked, standing by the body of his children.
"No. Can we?" Scandinavia asked, turning questioning eyes to Rome.
There was a silence, before a soft voice said "Yes." The ex nations turned to the dark haired man, standing in the distance staring into space.
"Iberia, it is impossible." Rome said, walking towards him.
"Why is it?" Iberia asked. He turned solemn brown eyes to Rome, and Rome frowned again. His mind was whirling.
Was it possible?
"They were not humans. They were the land, and the land still exists." Germania said. His eyes followed Rome and he wore a cautious expression, like he was too scared to hope.
"But we died!" Britannia cried, stepping foreword and striking her breast. "We died and left the land!"
"No." Scandinavia argued. "We were replaced, we did not leave without just cause. It was our time."
There was silence, before Ancient Greece spoke slowly.
"Would it…be possible? Can it be done?"
"Maybe. They are," Iberia grimaced, "WERE the essence of the land. Technically as long as the land exists, so must they."
"How, how could it be done?" Agu asked.
"The traditional way how humans are made." Rome grinned, and Germania groaned.
"But we don't exist, how do we ensure this?" Keiven Rus asked. His purple eyes shone with excitement.
"We are here now, aren't we? The status quo is altered, the world needs balance." Germania argued.
"But not now." Iberia said, standing in their group.
"Not now." Rome agreed. He looked at the body of his heir, clutching the hand of his former lover. He smiled a gentle smile and looked at the rest of the group, at the rest of the Ancients.
"But soon, very soon."