HERRO GUYS~!
Okay, well this fanfiction is based on an RP my friend and I have been keeping up for a ...whileee... Anyway, so all this crazy stuff has happened and I decided to make a fanfiction out of it because it was turning out so awesome. Everyone thank my friend and her glorious RPing to help create this fanfic too~
Here's the full summary:

Parallel Prussia is a sick, sadistic demon, like the rest of the Parallel countries who come from a world much darker than the Normal one. So what happens when the Parallels all cross over to Normal world? All. Hell. Breaks. Loose.
But in the depths of this darkness...is there a chance for love? With the number of the countries doubled, and as the line between good and evil begins to blur, an unexpected hero must rise to save the world from it's constant peril.

Paringings: FrUK, SpUK, Prumania, ParaPrales (I'll see if ya can figure that out~), Romerica, FraIta...lots more.
Warnings: Yaoi, rape, torture, mpreg, language, OCs used (meaning the Parallel Nations and a few love-children)
Also, I'd like you people to keep in mind, because you may be confused who's Parallel and who's not, if the country acts sadistic in any way, he's Parallel. All the Parallels are demons. Hopethatdidn'tspoilanythingforanyone;

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. Though the Parallel nations, and (normal) Wales are all OCs

Chapter one: Prisoner and Master

I first spied him through a window-

Like a mirror, a window was merely a thin plate of glass.

But instead of my own dark expression, I spied a world almost parallel to mine, but (unlike in my world,) he was there.

And from that first sight sprung an obsession. He would be mine.

"Oh, Angleterre"

"What?'

"You're just so beautiful, mon amour" Francis Bonnefoy cooed and laced his slender fingers through the Englishmen's tousled blond hair, struck golden in the morning sunlight.

Arthur huffed and sipped his steaming tea, closing his eyes and pretending not to enjoy what his fiancé was doing.

Fiancé?

Was he a bloody git? It was only yesterday that Francis had proposed to him. He wasn't ready for that yet…

Nevertheless, he opened his eyes again and let a small blush dust his cheeks. "Oh shut up, you've only said that to me so many times before, Francis…" The Frenchman smiled, his blue eyes shimmering like the ocean. The ocean that lay only outside their little cabin.

Arthur still didn't like the idea of taking a break like this, being pulled away from his country work for a few days; he felt irresponsible.

Francis knew it was only the best for his bushy browed Ange to get away from his work for just a while on their 'pre- honeymoon'. Being a nation was hard work…they both needed a vacation. Just a little time together, alone…

Francis bent down and set a plate of crepes in front of Arthur on the kitchen table. He pecked the blushing nation's cheek, smiling sweetly. "Oui. But it is so true I cannot fight the temptation to tell you every day~" he pulled away and strode to the kitchen to get his own food, returning in an instant and sitting down across from Arthur.

His long golden hair was pulled into a loose ponytail; some strands fell down and tickled his pale skinned neck, his blue eyes still danced with that flirtatious, but loving aura. He wore some kind of ridiculous pink apron that said 'kiss the cook'.

"…or, should I try some others words, like: exquisite, lovely, stunning, handsome, magnificent…" he commented, staring at Arthur.

The Englishman was blushing furiously, but he had a small teasing smile on his lips as he leaned forward and spoke to Francis: "Mmm…well I'm glad you've improved on your English vocabulary." he said, casting him another teasing glance before starting to eat his breakfast. "And thank you for the food…" he said after a bite.

Another advantage of being engaged to Francis: he never had to cook anymore…and he wasn't even allowed in the kitchen… usually…

"You're welcome, mon amour"

**PAGEBREAK**

His slender pale fingers drummed slowly against his cheek, the other hand tightly grasped a handful of sinister, rusted chains; clanking occasionally as he shifted. His feet were rested up on the table, his heavy black combat boots painted with splatters of dried blood. His dark crimson eyes were like the face of Death. They were deep, sadistic, and hungry.

His handsome but frightening face was lit with the ghostly light of the monitor screen his eyes were so directly fixed on. There were two small figures on the screen. Arthur and Francis, in the kitchen of that small little cabin.

His eyes were fixed on Arthur only, though. His target.

"He'll be mine…" he growled so softly in the dark. "Soon, he'll be mine… and that French bastard will be gone." He sounded so hungry. So sick. So obsessed.

There was someone else in the darkness with him, someone sitting next to him, veiled by darkness as he watched the screen too. His blue eyes glinted like electric sparks in the dim monitor light. He was biting his finger softly in thought. "When will you make the first move?' he asked his partner, eyes flickering to him.

The red-eyed demon laughed darkly. "First I have to bait him… He'll come to me when his lover's in danger… fall right into my hands. I'll have to capture Francis when the return..." a smirk had curved on his lips, he was so impatient.

The blue-eyed nation glanced at him, he was smirking too. "Good…" he cooed softly. "Make sure there's some prize in there for me too…" he said. But he was almost tentative to ask. It was obvious that he feared the Demon's power.

The Demon chuckled again. "Fine…" he growled.

Then with a sudden movement, he jerked his hand holding the chains forward, a loud clanking noise echoed through the cold stone-walled room. The sound was followed by a series of soft whimpers and there was a shuffling sound behind them, in the dark.

A shape emerged into the dim glow of light around both of the men's chairs. He was stumbling, eventually falling to his knees by the legs of the red-eyed Demon's chair. The Prisoner coughed a few times before lifting his face unwillingly to look up at his master. He was a lean, slender man. His face has an uncanny beauty, even smeared with grime and cover with sweat, His blue-green eyes were flashing fearfully, and his strawberry blond hair was matted and sticking to his face. He looked terribly beaten, and his arms were trembling slightly as he struggled to keep himself up. His clothes torn and dirty.

A rusty metal collar was set in place around his neck, the metal had already rubbed the skin raw and small trickles of blood snaked down his pale skin. The chains that came from the collar were currently in the hands of the Demon; his sadistic master.

"…but this one's mine…" growled the red-eyed one softly.

He was staring down at his prisoner with a malicious smirk that only the creatures of his wildest nightmares could match (then again, this was wilder than any nightmare the prisoner had experienced before)

A shiver cascaded down the Prisoner's spine. "Bastard…" he spat, but his voice was weak. He cursed his weakness.

"Hmmm…?" the Demon cooed, his smirk didn't disappear.

"Why, yes I am a bastard. I'm a horrible, sick bastard..." He stated, reaching down with a gloved hand to grasp the Prisoner's chin and jerk his head up so he couldn't look away. The Prisoner shivered again, trying to shrink away from the Demon's touch, but to no avail. "Understand that, pet. And the things I do to you will make you want to die. But I show no mercy... not even the favor of letting Death's cold grasp encircle you and save your soul.." He growled lowly, the look in his eyes one of pure insanity.

The red-eyed man jerked the chains forward more, pulling the Prisoner up to his knees as he gave a small yelp of pain and surprise. He rested one hand on the other's back so he wouldn't fall, his fingers brushing against his spine that was concealed under a thin shirt.

"But as you are mine now, it wouldn't be a good idea to insult your master…" he growled darkly in his ear, his warm breath ghosting over the smaller man's pale neck. "You will receive some punishment for your vile actions, my pet." he then pulled away, his silvery hair like a halo around his head in the milky light. A halo that he didn't deserve, seeing as he belonged in the fiery depths of hell.

The Prisoner clenched his jaw, knowing what pain that was too come. He sagged, defeated, against the chains as the Demon loosened them in his grasp. He was done having a little fun with his toy for now... the real games would start once he got his Prisoner alone...

He turned to his partner, who was silently typing on one of his laptops, his brown hair falling in front of the side of his face, hiding his concentrated expression. "What are you doing?" the Demon asked, lounging back in his chair and watching the screen.

The other was typing complicated things into the computer. "Hacking into the rest of the cameras," he growled under his breath, obviously needing all his concentration on his task. "Soon we'll have full footage of the cabin to make sure everything's going as planned…" he let out a victorious 'yes' when suddenly an image of the couple's bedroom popped up, along with their bathroom and a spot outside of the cabin; the garden.

The Demon gazed at the screen with an approving smirk. "Good…" he murmured, "oh, and Roderich, make sure to cut their trip a little short, I'm getting impatient for my beautiful Queen to be at my side."

He then stood up abruptly and yanked the rusted chains again, roughly pulling his Prisoner to his feet.

Wales, the Prisoner, bit back a cry and swallowed hard, trying to keep from stumbling into his Master, cringing at the thought of touching that sick, sadistic man. The man he knew would punish him with the worst; rape.

Gilbert Beilshmidt, the master, started walking, dragging Wales behind him and smirking at the other man's soft gasps of pain as he tried to keep up, the rusty collar on his neck causing more bloodshed.

Gilbert couldn't wait to hear him scream.

He left the room and closed the door with a click. They stood in a dim-lit dirty hallway that smelt of death and musty earth, it seemed to continue endlessly in each direction. But Gilbert started immediately dragging his Prisoner down one direction, his boots tapping eerily on the moist pavement- the chains clinked with deathly menace.

And they disappeared into the darkness, the prisoner being dragged into his living Hell.

Haha I just love my P. Gilly... Anyways, REVIEW POR FAVOR. I'd like to see what you guys think of this craziness :3
Next chapter will contain some nice torture and rape~
Hope ya enjoyed!