WARNING: This story is very triggering. It contains: Anxiety, Depression, Eating Disorder, Alcohol Abuse, Self Harm, and Attempted Suicide. If you are in fear of being triggered do NOT read. This story is this way for a reason. It contains gruesome details. You have been warned.
Pairings: This is not a romance story. It's about a trying to save a life. There are a few mentioned pairings if you are concerned. FrancexUk, PrussiaxUK, and SpainxUk are mentioned but really hold nothing. This is more of a family being brought together.
Edit: From one of the reviews I found that I had accidentally gotten one of the names wrong. The name that I used for Norway was Emil and was incorrect and I am very sorry for that mistake. It seems the place I had gotten the information from was wrong, that or I read it incorrectly. As of this edit I have tried to go back and change the name from Emil to Lukas. Please if anyone sees anything else that is wrong inform me and I will gladly fix it.
1783:
Arthur stayed kneeling on the ground, feeling the rain pound on his back. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't lose someone else he cared about. He felt his body shake with his sobs, not knowing how to answer the other's question.
What had happened to him? When did he get so weak? When did he get to the point of sobbing in front of his son in fear of losing him forever?
Oh, right. He had been in love. Falling so quickly that he couldn't control himself. Yes, he had loved Francis ever since they were young, but never did he understand the extent until they had been forced together because of the twins. Never did he expect to fall that deep. There had always been sexual tension and the like, but. . .
Then he found out about the many lovers Francis had taken behind his back. He had kicked the man out, taking both children and protecting them from their evil father. That was how he kept sane. The man had caused a downward spiral, neither of them realizing what could happen.
Then. . . then Alfred wanted to leave him to. He could feel his insides shredding as he screamed, and screamed. He couldn't lose more people he loved. He couldn't do it.
It was like he was in the pirate ages again, but this time he wasn't powerful. This time he wasn't secretly together with a certain Spanish pirate, that most likely hated him more than anything in the world.
He felt like a teenager again, but this time with more fear of the unknown. This time he didn't have an albino lover to protect him.
He felt like he was a child again, feeling broken. Only this time he didn't have older brothers trying to murder him. And this time he didn't have a blond Frenchman to love him and keep him safe.
This time he had no one. This time he was wondering if there was anyone who even cared for the broken country that he now was.
"ALFRED! Alfred please! Please! Come back! I can't live anymore! It hurts too much! ALFRED!"
He screamed, and screamed. He could feel the shreds in his mind becoming deeper. The spiral began once more.
"Sir? Sir!" A young soldier ran forward, kneeling next to the beaten country, "Sir, we need to get you out of-"
The man was cut off as Arthur punched him with as much force his shaking body could gather, "Do NOT touch me, filth!" He stood, his eyes shooting daggers at the startled man. His pale and blood covered body shook with a wrath never felt before. "Never touch me."
Arthur began walking deeper into the mist and fog, intent on finding Alfred. Finding anything possible to get the younger country to love him again. To be with him again. To be his child again and hug and sing and play and just be there!
"Sir! Stop!"
He wasn't going to stop. He couldn't. Then he felt the hands grabbing at him. Wrapping around his arms, legs, waist, neck, anywhere they could reach. He screamed, loud and pain filled. He spasmed, screaming louder.
The shouts of soldiers got closer, and Arthur could feel real hands touching him. He shook them off, pulling his arms away, and starting to run. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He needed to find Alfred. NOW.
The real hands were grabbing him, pushing him onto the ground. He fought, biting, scratching, hitting anything within his reach. He could feel blood flow past the cut on his head from the rock he had hit on the way down. Things were getting fuzzier, the shouts of his men only pulling him deeper.
And he screamed.
Arthur hadn't left his home in months, the closest to leaving being when he allowed Mathew his independence. He had just given in. He was tired of fighting a losing war.
"Arthur please, please eat something. Or even drink a glass of water. Please Arthur."
"Please Arthur!
Please!
Arthur!"
The many fairies surrounded his head speaking quietly to the silent blond. His green eyes stared at nothing as he heard the fairies speak. He didn't move. He stayed with his head rested against the back of his favorite chair. The chair he and the boys would read stories in before their bedtime.
Another tear slipped out as he thought through the memories, but otherwise nothing happened. The fairies fluttered about, continuously giving Arthur worried looks. They offered him foods, drinks, even a book. Nothing seemed to be working.
"I'll be fine. . ." His hoarse voice would always whisper, "I'll eat. . . when it stops hurting."
To which the fairies would sigh as they watched their beloved Arthur get weaker and weaker.
No one had seen Arthur for a while. Of course, the other countries had a bit more to deal with than one missing country, but still, they noticed when one of their own had stopped seeing anyone.
Several had gone to the Brit's house, knocking and trying to break in. Seeing if they could find anything on the missing country. He had disappeared about a year and a half before, with no trace.
Even a very worried looking Alfred had been at the Arthur's door, screaming for the Brit. Telling him to open the door. Mathew and Francis had to come drag the younger nation away.
A few of the countries decided to start having meetings, seeing if they couldn't find the man. A few of the worried men sat together discussing the issue around a circular table. Francis, Alfred, Mathew, Vladimir, Lukas, Yao, and Ivan sat around the table, trying to keep each other from fighting.
"I'm telling you, if Arthur is in that house, then he is using magic to keep us out. How else would you not be able to open up that damn door," Vladimir ground out, feeling protective over the country he felt was like his brother.
"And I'm telling you there's no such thing as magic," Francis nearly yelled.
"Yes, there is!" Vladimir and Lukas spoke together.
"OK! Ok, dumb asses. This is not why we are here. We're trying to find Arthur, not figure out if magic is real or not," Mathew suddenly screamed, getting the others to quiet down, "Now, does anyone actually have any logical ideas, and that means stay quiet Alfred."
The countries grumbled quietly, looking anywhere but at Mathew. Though, Francis looked surprised at his usually kind worded son.
"Fine. Vladimir, I want to hear more about this magic thing, and make it useful."
The vampire country stared at Mathew with glowing red eyes, "Well, we all know that the three of us, Arthur, Lukas, and I, are all the major magic using countries. Though, Arthur's brothers can use magic too, and I think a few others. Currently. . ." He sighed softly, "Currently Arthur's magic is thin, I can barely tell it exists. Which, usually means there's a lot of stress on it."
He shrugged, looking to Lukas to make sure he had everything.
"If there is magic around Arthur's house, do you think you could take it down?" Mathew asked seriously, ignoring Francis and the other's scoff of disbelief.
"Yes, if I had help. Which. . . I can get from Arthur's brothers," the vampire stated, nodding in thought.
"Good. Get on it. If that doesn't work, we'll think of something else. You go, and you bring back any information you can."
Lukas sighed, staring at the poor sight in front of him. The magic was barely holding together, showing that it's master was in pain. A deep growling came from behind him, and he turned to see Vladimir and Allistor.
"Something happened to Iggy. Something that would cause it to be that bad?" The red-haired man growled again, anger in his eyes.
"Hush, you big brute. You don't want to scare him into strengthening the bonds," Vladimir spoke glaring at the house. Arthur had somewhat forgiven his older brothers, but he was still terrified of the older men.
They stared at the two-story home, feeling only sadness, anger, and fear come from it. The lights were off, and no movement could be seen besides the trees swaying in the light breeze.
"We need to get in there. Arthur is in trouble." Allistor grumbled, already walking to the door.
The other two passed through the magic field just as easily, feeling for any signs of life. They found none.
"Didn't you two tell me that this door was locked," Allistor spoke, pushing the door open with ease.
"You're the closest to his magical signature. You wouldn't have been able to get in without us, and we wouldn't be able to get in without you. He has wards against you that we broke, and then you just walked us right through the front door," Lukas said, his expression not changing.
The trio stepped into the deathly silent house, looking around at the broken pictures and bottles that filled every room. There were blood spatters on some walls, always near where pictures had seemed to be hanging.
A blue fairy nestled into Allistor's hair suddenly, whispering something to the red-haired man. The man nodded silently, heading towards the stairs, "She says it's horrifying." He didn't say anything else as he climbed each step, not even checking to see if the others were following.
The bedroom door was shut tight, probably another spell, but Allistor easily broke through, stepping into the dark room. "Holy shit, Arthur."
The mentioned man was curled up atop the bed, not even under the blankets, shivering. Bones could be seen over the stretched skin, the clothing the Brit wore falling off and showing it to the world. An almost whistling sound came from the man with every breath. He was pale as a ghost. There was blood on the blanket next his face. The once proud Brit looked as if one touch from another person would turn him to ashes.
Hearing a voice, his eyes began to flutter open. Light grey eyes, almost white, stared up from under pale eyelids. Shakily his arm moved to move greying blond hair from his face, and Allistor winced being able to see every bone move with every shaky movement.
"What. . ." The Englishman took a deep gasping breath before he could continue, "What are you doing here. . ."
Allistor had seen some horrible shit in his life, and he had seen countries get horribly sick but. . . he had never seen this. It looked like Arthur hadn't eaten in years. . . which was probably true. He watched the small body spasm, and the younger's eyes go in and out of focus. His eye lids moved lazily, as if having trouble staying open.
"Arthur. . . What the fuck has happened to you? And don't give me any of your bullshit you used to try to give me when you were younger," Allistor nearly screeched, but he stepped back when he saw Arthur jump like Allistor was beating him again.
"Arthur. Arthur, God, look at me. Just tell me what's happened," He stepped closer to the bed, placing his hand on to the smaller's head.
Arthur reared back like he had been burned, and screamed out, "DON'T TOUCH ME!" He surprised Allistor with the force of his yell. Then the smaller started coughing. Coughing so hard his body collapsed with the force of them. Allistor then realized where the blood came from, seeing red dripping past his brother's lips.
"Arthur. . ."
"Holy fuck."
Allistor turned to see Vladimir in the doorway, probably appearing after Arthur's scream. The man had his hand covering his mouth, with tears in his eyes. He looked as if he couldn't decide whether to run to Arthur, or run away.
Allistor decided on that moment, "We're getting him out of here, now." The Scotsman leaned down to wrap his arms under Arthur's legs and shoulders. He didn't expect the small, weak Englishman to fight back, however.
He screamed, kicking and flailing his arms to the best of his ability, "LET ME GO! NOW!" He aimed punches at the Scotsman's face, trying to wiggle his way out of his older brother's grip.
"Allistor, put him down, please," The vampire looked suddenly terrified, shooting pleading looks at something behind him.
"Why?" He growled, attempting to push around him.
"Because, I don't feel like being killed by a unicorn today. Especially when we can help Arthur in an easier way."
Allistor looked around, not seeing the magical creature. With a sigh, he laid Arthur gently back onto the bed, rather glad to not be punched in the face anymore. Vladimir sighed in relief, stepping closer to the now immobile Arthur.
"Brother, why do you keep us from helping you," Vladimir asked quietly, seeing a silent reaction from Arthur. The small man's head lifted slightly, his eyes eventually reaching Vladimir's.
"I-" Arthur broke off suddenly. Another coughing fit. This time, however, the blood dripped down his cheeks, mingling with the dried tears, "I'll be fine."
The first thing Vladimir did after seeing Arthur was run to Yao, hoping that the old country would have and information on Arthur. Maybe even seen anything similar to the situation. At this point, the vampire was prepared to take anything anyone could give.
After explaining the situation, Yao looked like he was about to have a heart attack. The man looked so concerned and. . . heartbroken.
"He's losing himself," The man had stated simply.
"Losing himself?"
"Yes. It's when a country's past, present, and dark thoughts come to haunt them. Tear them to shreds. For some countries it happens a few times, but differently, ones where they get to survive it. But, sometimes there's one they can't survive. Arthur. . . He's lost himself several times, I'm surprised he's lasted this long. Others have changed a lot, but never as much as Arthur. And if what you told me is true. . . He may be to far gone. This will probably be Arthur's last," Yao lowered his eyes to the ground. He didn't want to think on the news he had just given. He had lost many a friend to them losing themselves.
"Is there anything we can do," Vladimir asked quietly. He didn't want to lose the man he had taken to as a brother. He was certainly sure even Francis refused to think of losing Arthur. Hell, no one could think of life without the Brit in it.
"You can try to protect him from losing himself completely, and hope he heals. But, I doubt anything will work at this point."
Vladimir nodded silently, deciding to go tell the others the information he learned. Then he would probably go see Arthur, maybe for the last time.
Arthur stared at himself in the mirror, feeling disgusted. He was so small, and he couldn't stop shaking. His lips were stained red from his blood. His hair was long, going down to his shoulders, and had lost its shine. It seemed to be losing its color too. His eyes had lost all the pretty green that reminded him of his mother.
He was disgusting.
"Yes, you are."
Arthur watched the mirror morph into the stronger Arthur, the pirate. The mirror image grinned cruelly, watching Arthur's pain.
"You're weak, and disgusting. No one loves you, why would they? That French bastard cheated on you. Your little German left you for an Austrian after he got what he wanted. And the Spaniard. . . well he only liked me, now didn't he?"
Arthur groaned, holding his hands against his head in vain. He felt like trying to crush his skull, but he knew it wouldn't work. He had already tried. The voice of his former self laughed, the sound bouncing around inside his head.
"Arthur, Arthur please! Don't listen to him, he isn't real! Why don't you go call Vlad? Or Lukas?"
"Arthur come on! We can go get a glass of water, and talk! Like we used to!"
Arthur moved his eyes to the fairies, a look of realization and insanity in his eyes. "It's your fault! They- They didn't like me talking about you guys so much!"
He could feel a coughing fit rising again, but he didn't care. He knew just how to get rid of the voices, of the fairies, the unicorns, even the flying green rabbit that wouldn't leave him alone. Carefully leaning down, he reached behind the toilet to find something he had hidden in case he ever felt in danger.
He pulled out the old ritual blade, now basically useless to anything but just a knife. He carried the blade back to his room, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. The fairies were screaming at him, the unicorn prancing around the room in alarm. Flying mint bunny kept getting closer, as if trying to sneak the knife from him.
He hit the disgusting creature, making it fly across the room without use of its wings. "I'm done with this," he said quietly, "It hurts, and you freaks are making it worse."
So with what was left of his breath he mumbled a quiet spell from his younger years, and dug the blade into the skin of his arm. He cut across, watching the blood bubble up in a straight line. Watching silently, he did the same to his other arm, watching the blood drip.
He looked up, noticing that the creatures were already getting blurrier. He felt out of breath, coughing hard enough to knock the knife away onto the ground. He didn't move to return it. Instead he leaned back, laughing brokenly as he watched the magical creatures fade into nothing.
He felt something in the back of his mind rip to pieces, and then everything went black.
Vladimir rushed to Arthur's home, knowing without a doubt that something was wrong. He had felt a surge of Arthur's magic, and then nothing. Not even a little bit of magic was left. He had told the others so before he took off, leaving worried looks and screaming behind him.
He broke into the magic-less house, looking around for any sign of Arthur. He followed the sound of sobbing and screaming up to Arthur's room, almost screaming himself. The magical creatures had surrounded Arthur, all of them crying. The fairies sat atop Arthur's head and shoulders. The unicorn had laid down next to the rocking chair. Flying mint bunny was laying in Arthur's lap.
But what terrified Vladimir was the fact that blood was still dripping down Arthur's arm, into a small puddle on the floor. He screamed, tears in his eyes.
"Arthur! Arthur, no!' He sprinted forward, moving the creatures from their spots. He felt around, trying to find Arthur's pulse. He couldn't find one.
"Oh, no. Oh, no. Arthur, Arthur please. Please don't do this! Please, please don't lose yourself." The vampire pulled the broken country closer, into a crushing hug. He wouldn't let go. Not when the others arrived and found him holding a dead body. Not when they told him to let go. Not when Francis, Alfred, and Mathew had all run up to hug Arthur at once.
He couldn't let go.
Please don't lose yourself,
Please don't let go,
I don't know what I will do,
If I had to lose you too.
Please, dear, I love you,
You're everything to me.
Please don't lose yourself.
Please.
Please don't let go.
His eyes fluttered open, and he saw something unexpected. He was surrounded by the other countries, all of the with worried looks. Some with tear tracks on their faces.
He was confused.
Last thing he remembered he was. . . hurt. It hurt so much. He was losing it. He couldn't do it, no it had to stop. This pain, this everything, he had made it go away!
"Arthur, Arthur sweetie, calm down," Elizabeta looked down at him, putting a hand on his head. He tried to move his hand to hit at her, but found he couldn't. Looking down, he noticed his arms were tied down to the bed.
"What. . . What the bloody hell is going on here," Arthur surprised himself with his own voice, unsure of the last time his voice sounded. . . normal.
"You're healing, dear. We almost lost you. You were dead for about two hours before you came back to us. We were unsure if you would. It takes a lot of energy and strength for us to come back to life," Elizabeta continued to speak quietly, as to not startle Arthur.
"What? I was sleeping! Untie me, this instant!" Arthur struggled against his binds, getting that feeling in his head again. He needed to scream, he need to be free, he needed to fight, and hide, and get away from these people.
"Dad, please calm down. We don't want you to get hurt more," Mathew said from his other side, tears forming in his violet eyes. Arthur immediately stopped, feeling worry for his son.
"I," Arthur stopped, looking at the countries surrounding him. Nope, he couldn't do this. He couldn't be in here with all these people. They were staring at him. His eyes widened, and he shook his head rapidly.
Freedom. Freedom. Freedom. I need to get free.
Arthur screamed in agony, "GET AWAY FROM ME."
Everyone in the room backed up quickly, staying away from the terrified country. He screamed and shook and cried. All he was thinking was how close he got to being away from the pain, and now he had to start over again. The pain was worse now.
He suddenly felt arms around him, and looked to see Vladimir hugging him. "We love you, Arthur. We don't want you to lose yourself. We don't want to lose you."
Arthur couldn't breath again, as a new batch of tears rolled down his cheeks. Alfred was suddenly there, placing his head next to Arthur's, "I'm sorry I left you like that, Dad. I'm really sorry. I didn't know this would. . . That you would go to those lengths."
Mathew was there at his other side, "If I would have know how you felt, Dad, I wouldn't have left so early after Alfred. I would've been there to help you."
Those in the room stayed silent as they watched the family interaction. They all hoped, above anything else, that this would start Arthur's healing process. But, only time would tell.
This story was written as to tie into the story Second Chances, but it isn't a continuation of this. You don't have to read this to understand it, nor do you have to read it to understand this. This has the potential to become a Two-Shot, but currently it is remaining a One-Shot.
Thank you for reading.
-Becca
