Flagged
Liechtenstein and Switzerland
Out of the car and into the mansion she was guided. Her brother's firm grip on her shoulders is what steered her through the decorative corridors littered with bodies of the nameless. Past the pale, past the red... Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. The only thing keeping her from freezing up was the tight force against her shoulder blades keeping her in check with reality.
The door was ajar. The blood seeped out. She knew she was at their destination.
The soles of her shoes slapped against the thick liquid below as she was slowly lead over to the form of a young boy. He looked even younger than herself, though in reality she knew this child was more than 30 years old. The image was deceiving but it did its job. She felt something constrict painfully inside her.
"Come on now Erika," Her brother smiled gently, giving her a small nudge forwards. She could see the elation and fulfilment gleaming in his eyes. The sight had her entranced. She could not remember seeing anything more beautiful than this, her brother's expression which was usually so saddened and serious. "Take the flag. It's all for you."
He was happy. She should be too.
She reached down a delicate hand towards the flag adorned in red, blue and a golden crown. The flag was clenched like a lifeline in the boy's fist. She hesitated, her fingers drawing back.
"It won't hurt for too long. Believe me Erika; I've already done it." He pulled out a red flag emblazoned with a white cross from his jacket's pocket. He held it in front of her eyes as an act of reassurance.
The pain was not what she was worried about. This was wrong.
So very wrong.
She gave him one of her smiles, the ones he loved so much. "I know Vash. I trust you."
Without wavering this time, she extended out her hand and snagged the cloth in between her fingers, wrenching it from the boy's lifeless grip.
The moment she made contact with the flag her skin seared. The burning prickling sensation flooded into body, set fire to her skin, her insides. Images of centuries and centuries of splendour and hardship infested her mind like locust. She could not feel or see anything but the pain and the memories. It was agony.
She withed in the blood that was not her own, her body twitching and convulsing uncontrollably. Her back arched and her neck snapped backwards from the force. It was in that moment that the nightmare stopped.
Or maybe it had only just begun.
"Erika! Erika!" She heard a voice call.
She opened her eyes and saw her brother. He looked different than before. He seemed to glow now. There was some strange power manifesting inside him that she could feel spreading throughout the room. She could feel it from within herself too.
"Switzerland..." The world rolled off her tongue before she even knew what she was saying.
Her brother let out a relieved huff as he raised her from the ground. He was glad to see she was alright. "Hello Liechtenstein." He said, lips stretching into a rare smile. "Your voice sounds a bit different, the accent has changed slightly. It must be because you are the embodiment of Liechtenstein now. I guess you no longer count as a Swiss citizen now that you're your own country."
"I'm a nation..." She said rather breathlessly. She felt dazed.
"I know. We can never get old, remember things that happened hundreds of years ago and... We can't get ill... Erika! We can't get ill!" In his exhilaration he picked his sister up off the ground and spun her around. He set her back down, practically grinning. "You'll live! You won't die now; the asthma is gone!"
Liechtenstein nodded meekly, forcing a smile upon her face.
She could not deny the wonderful feeling of vigour and potential coursing through her veins. It was invigorating and fairly overwhelming. Just the thought of her life-threatening illness never being able to bother her again was enough to make her dizzy with happiness.
But then she looked down to the body by her feet, sprawled and mangled. He was killed by her own brother without a second thought. He had done it for her, to keep his sister alive and well. But what about them, the people who were now not alive and well because Vash had murdered them? There must have been more than over 20 dead here today.
How many died from the bomb her brother had set off? How many had he shot, stabbed?
The boy by her feet died from a bullet to the head.
The older woman across the room still had the knife buried within her stomach, her body curled around the weapon.
The public had adored these two nations. They had been kind, generous and charismatic. And they had just gone and straight-up killed them. All for two flags, for a brother who didn't want his sister to die from her severe asthma attacks.
They left together, holding hands. Back out the door, through the hallways. Past the pale, past the red. Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. Out of the mansion and into the car. She slipped into the front seat, her brother closing her door behind her. He got in beside her, started the car and began to drive.
Liechtenstein stared down at the flag in her lap.
It was her lifeline. It was what gave her power yet it was also her vulnerability. It made her a target.
She could be sure that the day her flag would go would be the day she died because who on earth just stole the flag these days? Or even asked for it?
It would be her murder.
She rubbed the silky material in between her fingers, as her eyelids began to droop. For the rest of the car journey she slept dreaming not of her impending death, but of the death of the boy who had been Liechtenstein before her.
Oh what on earth did I just write? That was so dark!
But then I find I normally write this sort of stuff better, the extreme emotions and all that jazz.
So yeah... This story is going to be lots of little snippets from the lives of the Hetalia characters in the AU-ish sort of world. They are not going to be 2p but just people pushed over the edge most of the time.
I may revisit some of the characters if I feel like it would be interesting to expand upon their story more. I think next time I may be going for England or Russia. No promises though.