Hi all! I swear I'll update some of my other fics soon, but, here you go! This one is based off of a picture I saw when browsing Pixiv one day.

I hope you enjoy it.

*I don't own Hetalia nor do I own Nyotalia. They both belong to Himaruya Hidekez.

Chapter 1

This bloody mirror, that bloody mirror, boxes surrounded him, he hadn't cleared out this room since America left; not that it really bothered him. But today was the day when he would clean this room out once and for all, it was all started on a whim and boredom, plus, he was a rather clean person, so it was always bothering him indirectly. He moved the labelled boxes from place to place, they were filled with all kinds of things. Toys, coins, old play scripts, a couple of lost church records, and a couple of rotten carrots. The same thought went through his mind over and over again, 'so that's where it went.'

He never once questioned the contents of the boxes, after all, none of it seemed to surprise him, it was as if he knew that it was there. One box after another, they seemed to pile endlessly outside the room, and then, all of a sudden, the numbers would deplete, and there would be more and more things to send off to Dickinson's Real Deal or Antiques Roadshow. Things from all sorts of era's ended up scattered all over the floor, normal things, things from his colonies, magical things... All kinds of things of all shapes and sizes were tossed around the room. He began to debate with himself over whether he had stolen this idea of cleaning from when America cleaned out his storage that one time...

He decided against it, there was no way he'd copy America over something as big as cleaning out this room, after all, it was practically like cleaning out memories (Which is probably why he was so hesitant to throw things away) the old soldier toys which he gave America, who, in turn, gave them back after he was finished with them, by which time they were usually broken, and he gave them to Australia to fix them. He stood there thinking about that for a while, swelling up with regret. The more he thought about it, the more he realised that he needed to be happy that Australia didn't fight back with force, but agreed to be part of the commonwealth.

As he delved deeper, he found things from some of his other colonies and relatives: A dumpling stove style object from Hong Kong, a how to speak what should be your mother tongue book that he had received from Wales back when he was first started changing his language away from Welsh. Needless to say, Wales (And to some extent, Mother Britannia) was less than impressed. More and more objects turned up out of the rubbish, a cook book from India, a knife and some toy soldiers from Nepal (and some prayer flags, but he pretended not to notice those, the Bishop probably wouldn't be very happy) and some chemicals and models that his most famed and favourite scientists had gifted to him.

A few bottles of rum... an old cape... a hat, topped off with a feather... He threw them carefully back into the box closing it back up as fast as he possibly could. Those might have been his golden days, but, in some ways, it was also his darkest era. He put the box to one side, labelling it something illegible in a different language, presumably Polish, shorthand or Hindi. To be quite honest, even England couldn't tell what language it was in, he knew what it said, after all, he had just written it, but actually reading it was a problem. He assured himself he would be able to read it when the time came for him to reopen the box, whenever that may happen to be.

He made his way through the rubbish, eventually being able to vaguely traverse the room without tripping over anything, yet, it still seemed like there was an unending amount of just general crap around the place.

Until he found the only thing that seemed to be out of place, the only thing that he didn't even recognise in the slightest.

A mirror, propped up against the floor.

Stepping over the rest of the rubbish, he finally got to the silver-framed glass. Picking it up, he felt a certain aura around the mirror, an air of magic, but not just any air- this was an air of magic that he had never ever felt before. Mother Britannia had mentioned something about this kind of thing before 'Don't touch it, don't interact with it, don't even look at it if you can.' He brushed it off. Britannia was long gone now, and he had disobeyed his mother plenty of times before, now, and in the past. He and his brothers weren't exactly the most... obedient of children.

He set the mirror up against an old, Victorian-style school desk. The white, opaque, linen cloth still covered the mirror, despite the fact that it had been moved so much. He pulled it back, the dust from it scattering, but when he had drawn it...

He couldn't see himself. In fact, he couldn't see anything, just, the colour of the glass, whatever that colour was. An ambiguously grey-blue-silver type colour, well, that's what he could see.

England extended his hand to touch the mirror, at first, purely to see if it was covered in grunge or dust, then, out of curiosity, than, a compelling feeling, one that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

A rippling effect appeared on the mirror as he touched it. He jumped back, it felt like someone had pushed him, like someone had decided it was a good idea to put a force field of some kind around it, despite the fact that he didn't know anyone who could still perform proper magic nowadays. He moved forward to touch the mirror once again. This time, he let his fingers land on the glass one at a time, a ripple once again landing one after another. He dragged his fingers down the mirror, no dust, no grunge, the mirror was completely clean.

The mirror seemed to flash, an image, a reflection appearing in it. But it wasn't him, oh no. It was a her.

A young girl, wearing an old fashioned blue NHS style nurse uniform. She had green eyes, like his, her hair colour was like someone had copy and pasted it. Her hair style, well, that was different, it was long, brought up into two pigtails. She had her hand on the glass too, in the exact same way as England did, a surprised look covered her face. In the background, he couldn't quite tell what was there- but it looked like there was someone else, and possibly another mirror, he couldn't quite be certain, it was all vague, a marred image.

He took a deep breath, "Hello."

Fanfic really has been glitching recently, so it's taking a much longer time to upload . I hope nothing was deleted or anything, as I have had to go back and edit. Please tell me what you think.

Reviews make the world go 'round!

Hope you enjoyed it

~EJF