Synopsis: After strange bouts of dreams and magic, Britain and Norway get kidnapped by a mysterious villain who wants to use their powers to take over the world! Will America and friends save them?

Pairings: USUK, Franada, DenNor, and...um...others...?

Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Hidekazu Himaruya and not me!

Also, the fact that I am working on this does not mean that I have stopped working on my other stories. (Here's lookin' at you, UtaPri fic, WWII story and SpainBel fic! I still love you, even though I have probably converted to Spamano. orz)

Rated T for violence and language

Please enjoy!

Empty. Everything was empty and white washed. The corn field he was in was empty and dead, a dead whiteness engulfing him. His clothes. The street. The lines...everything was an uncomfortable, white-washed dryness. Even the sky was devoid of its usual blue, a gray overcast keeping the sun out. And yet, the area was strangely warm.

Arthur blinked once and looked down at his white shoes, gray pants and white dress shirt. His eyes followed the empty road, looking on as it met tall, imposing mountains on either ends. Nothing was approaching and Arthur had a feeling that nothing ever would. He took a hesitant step forward, stepping on hunched over and bent pieces of dried out corn. Arthur almost jumped out of his skin when he realized that no sound came from his footsteps. He wasn't sure what was worrying him more: the lack of color, the lack of sound, or the lack of anything living. He made his way to the middle of the street, and turned slowly to look at the dead, empty field he had just emerged from. The fields seemed to go on as endlessly as the unturning road.

Arthur felt his heart catch in his throat. How did he get here? Where was he? Panic rose in his mind dangerously and he clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking. He became eerily aware that someone was watching him, but as he looked around, no one was there. No one couldbe around: the loneliness he was feeling was almost unbearable. And yet, the feeling still lingered.

Arthur craned his neck to see something, anything, but there was nothing around him, save for the dead, empty fields and the long, empty road. All of Arthur's senses were heightened as he turned, the eery feeling increasing exponentially.

"Ho there," he called, relieved that he could break the silence. His voice cracked and he forced a smile despite his growing fear, "If anyone is out there, there's no need to hide, really. I won't hurt you." His voice echoed quietly across the emptiness. His heart thudded loudly in his ears.

"I know you're out there, so come out!" he called again, his skin crawling as the eery feeling encroached on him from all sides. Arthur could have sworn that he could see dark, shadowed outlines of what might have been people flitting around the edge of his vision. But every time he would turn to look at them, they disappeared. He felt his heart hammer in his chest, desperately trying to hide his fear.

"Stop it, whoever you are! I am the United bloody Kingdom! I am Great Britain!" he yelled, "I am not afraid of you!"

"Britain."

That voice...So calm, soothing, and familiar. It sent shivers down his spine, though he would never admit it. The voice came from behind him and he dared to breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God, Arthur thought, He must have been the one watching me. Despite the man's loud and obnoxious attitude, knowing he was there calmed Arthur's nerves. Although, his heart did begin to race for a completely different reason.

Ignoring the fact that the man had spoken to him in an unfamiliar tone, he pulled the most passive glare he could muster and turned to face him.

"Well, it's taken you long enough to show up, Ame...ri..." but his voice trailed off as he turned to an empty street. Britain's blood ran cold. He looked around, turning on the spot until he felt like he was going to fall over, but there was no sign of the country. He felt his grip on the situation slipping, his breath catching in his throat as tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He tried to yell, to cry out, but all that emerged was a strangled whisper.

"Where are you, you bloody git?" he croaked, his eyes widening in his maddened search. He whipped his head around and began to run. He looked from side to side desperately, hoping for a change of scenery. A tree. A person. Anything! His lungs were on fire as he flew down the empty street, the silence suffocating him. He looked around as he ran, but nothing seemed to be changing in the slightest. It was almost like he wasn't moving at all. His vision blurred and it was only when he stopped running that he realized he was crying. He swore, cursing his cowardice and fear. Britain quickly wiped his eyes and sniffed loudly, fixing his shirt. If he was going to be afraid, by god would he be presentable.

Just then, he saw something light up in the middle of the field to his left. At first, he regarded it wearily: the eerily feeling had lessened slightly, but something seemed...off about the light. Unnatural. A lump grew in his throat, but he swallowed it and proceeded towards it. Something in his mind willed him to get closer, like a primal instinct. If there is light, at least someone would be there, right? He thought, his brain racking with the multiple possibilities that this horrible idea could lead to. But he pressed on. Maybe it's America with some stupid new invention... He repeated that naïve idea in his head, yet somehow he knew that it not be the loud and brash American.

After what felt like hours walking in stifled silence, Britain finally came upon the source of the light. He was crestfallen, but intrigued. In place of the idiotic American futzing around with power tools and lights, there was a small orb.

The orb was roughly the size of a marble and just as smooth. It seemed transparent, but it was hard to tell for it was radiating the most beautiful light Arthur had ever seen. It sat, nestled amongst broken stalks of corn, like an egg in a nest. He knelt down, ignoring the voice in his head telling him not to, and enclosed his fingers around it. He slowly picked it up, a feeling of immense power coursing through him as he did so. It almost felt magical. But, something still felt off...Wrong. He slowly opened his hand, the orb sitting lightly in his palm. Then, everything happened so quickly Arthur barely had time to register it.

The white, colorless area melted away around him and was replaced by endless darkness, save for the light in his hand. Terrified screams and tortured yells suddenly surrounded him, coming from all directions. He found himself longing for the silence he had dreaded before. The orb turned a blood red and the beautiful light turned to a dark, menacing glow. The arm holding the orb suddenly spasmed and Britain found himself thrust backwards, as if he was punched. He tried to throw the orb to get it as far away as possible, but his arm was no longer responding to him. His hand forced its way into his mouth, shoving the still glowing orb inside.

He swallowed it.

~oOoOo~

Britain awoke with a start in the dark room. He felt a mattress beneath him, a cold sweat covering his entire body. He breathed heavily as flashes of the nightmare still clouded his vision, causing him to shiver. The empty street. The empty fields. The orb. The screams. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the images. He brought his knees to his chest, his breathing haggard and shaking.

"Just a dream..." he repeated to himself, closing his eyes, "It was all just a dream."

"What was all just a dream?"

"There was a field and-..." Britain paused, his heart stopping for a moment. His head quickly shot up and he looked over at the person who just spoke. He nearly fell out of bed. Britain, in his fearful awakening, hadn't noticed that the American beside him had woken up too.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY BED?" he yelled, throwing the covers off roughly, glaring. He secretly prayed that the room was dark enough so that Alfred couldn't see the blood rushing to his cheeks as he stood angrily on the floor. The American just yawned and propped himself up onto one arm.

"This is my room," he said lazily. Britain just continued glaring at him, so he continued, "You were super drunk after the meeting yesterday, remember?" After Arthur gave him another glare he sighed, "France and I did rock paper scissors to see who would take you home, but you wandered over to my room and passed out."

"And you laid down with me?" Britain yelled, frustrated with the awkward circumstance, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Whatever," America said, sitting up straight and giving Britain a soft, but serious look of concern. "What was your dream about?" Britain wasn't sure whether it was the still fresh fear or the way America was looking at him, but he sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. Arthur wondered if he should tell Alfred or if he should just ignore him, be rude and tell him to go to sleep. He decided to go with the latter.

"It doesn't concern you," he said curtly, avoiding the nation's gaze, "Now go to sleep."

"Yeah, but Britain-"

"I said go to sleep," Britain snapped, laying back down, his back facing the American, "It was just a dream, anyway..." he whispered. After a while, Britain felt the bed shift as America laid back down as well.

"As long as you're sure, dude," he said quietly, "G'night." Britain didn't reply, listening as the nation sighed. He waited until America's breathing became deep and even, ensuring that he had fallen asleep before turning back to face him.

It was just a dream. Arthur repeated this quietly, feeling just a little bit safer knowing that America was near him. He would never admit that, however. Slowly, carefully, and watching America's calm and contented face, he fell asleep.

Neither nation noticed the owl watching them through the window from its perch on the dead oak tree. Nor did they notice as it shimmered out of sight through a puff of smoke.

TO BE CONTINUED

if anyone cares, this is the song I was listening to while writing this ^_^:

(YouTube) /watch?v=C9haTFoGcvk&feature=player_embedded