Hello, welcome to Numbers from Poland, my first fanfiction.

This is a very in-depth story, with plenty of strange twists and turns. You may find yourself completely confused at times. The first few chapters are rather short, but the ending chapters are rather large. And of course, there are grammatical errors riddled throughout. But this is really the product of hours of hard work, so I hope you enjoy it.

Human names are used, so I'm sorry if that confuses you. If I had to invent one, it should be easy to figure out who's who.

This story contains - crude language, descriptive violence, mentions of suicide, Nazi paraphernalia,"yaoi," alcohol abuse, mental illness, and a few OC's. You have been warned. Continue at your own risk.

I would like to say that a review goes a long way for me. I'm not going to nag you constantly for reviews, but it really is a nice treat to find a new little review.

And the cover art is mine, sorry it doesn't pertain to Ludwig and him, but Toris is and will forever be my favorite.

Without further ado, I present Numbers from Poland, the first story I've ever finished.

Please enjoy.

Polski-Doodle~


The living room was dead silent, the only noise coming from the TV, playing the nightly news. Ludwig's entire family was gathered around it, waiting quietly for the dreaded words.

Elizabeta sat next to Roderich, the Austrian putting a protective arm around her like he used to when they were married. Basch held Lilli in his arms, the small girl already on the verge of tears. Gilbert was asleep on the couch, and Ludwig was in the kitchen, washing the plates from dinner. For the first time in a long while they had a family dinner, only after finishing their impromptu meeting.

Gilbert had suggested the meeting casually at breakfast that day, telling Ludwig that he had already invited everyone to their house. He hadn't realized just how much work actually would have to go into it, to try and cook for six people and clean a house in less than a day. Naturally, he'd thrown most of the work on Ludwig, who was less than pleased to learn they were going to hold a mini world conference in his house with only a few hours to prepare for everything. So Ludwig had to prepare dinner for everyone and clean up after Gilbert, said brother being very little help. By the time everyone arrived, Ludwig was exhausted and ready to strangle Gilbert.

The meeting was spent discussing the war taking over Europe and what they were going to do when their leaders decided it was time to fight back. Everyone was quite scared by the thought of this next World War, even if they didn't show it. Ludwig could tell by the way Roderich and Elizabeta held hands like they could be torn from each other at any minute, and how Basch looked nervously from one person to the next. Even Gilbert was on edge as Roderich spoke of the bloody battlefields in France. The typically obnoxious Prussian was eerily quiet, no random outbursts of laughter or annoying taunts. He just sat with his hands folded in his lap, listening intently to everyone's horror stories of the war going on around them. The way he just sat and listened terrified Ludwig more than any story of bloodshed and violence. The only other time Ludwig had seen Gilbert like this was during WWII.

"Is he seriously asleep?" Roderich huffed; poking Gilbert's foot like one might poke an animal with a stick. "Honestly, of all the times to doze off, he chooses now?"

"It's sort of ironic," Basch remarked, stroking Lilli's hair gently. "After all, the ass used to love a good fight. Where did all that violence go?"

"You're one to speak," Ludwig muttered under his breath, putting a stack of plates up in the cabinet.

"What did you say about me?" Basch snapped, turning to face Ludwig. "Why, you–"

He was interrupted by the TV; a reporter announcing yet another nation representative was missing. Basch dropped whatever snarky retort he was going to use on Ludwig, looking back at the TV. Ludwig clenched the damp tea towel he was using to dry dishes, hoping they wouldn't say Veneziano's name. Please, don't say Feliciano, Ludwig silently pleaded. Anyone but him.

"The personification of Norway, who goes by the name Lukas Bøndevik, was reported missing this evening. Shortly after, a call was made to one of Lukas' guards telling them Lukas was in fact captured and is being held in Poland," The reporter said calmly like she was talking about a lost puppy, not the man who represented Norway.

Of course, the normal humans weren't as scared about wars and personifications going missing. Almost no one could recall the tragedy of the World Wars. All they knew came from books, not firsthand experience like the countries had burned into their minds.

Ludwig's family remembered the wars all too well. Occasionally Ludwig would wake up screaming and crying from nightmares of the Third Reich. Sometimes he would have flashbacks, just from something someone said or a certain smell. He could never forget all the sobs of the children watching their parents be killed, how the fields in his country ran red with blood. He was haunted by the concentration camps, the smell of death that clung to the uniform he kept hidden in the back of his closet, a silent reminder of the war. The actions of long ago plagued him constantly, for which he could never forgive himself.

Shoving those thoughts aside, Ludwig hung up the towel and sat down by his brother. He glanced at the sleeping Prussian, snoring softly. He wished he could be that calm, not even the slightest bit worried about the war. He wished he was able to sleep during the night and not stay up pacing back and forth and making himself sick with worry.

The next world war, as people had begun calling it, was causing him more panic than it should. However, it wasn't the war itself that kept Ludwig up at night worrying. He had started, fought in, and ended a few of them himself, so the concept of warfare wasn't anything new to the German. Ludwig wasn't scared to get a little blood on his uniform or take someone's life without a second thought.

What frightened him was what happened to the personifications of countries.

Since nations can't truly die, anyone of them who was captured was tortured, having limbs broken and hair ripped out. In a much shorter time than humans they were almost fully healed, ready to repeat the vicious cycle. Ludwig spent many nights worrying about Feliciano because of this, praying that one of his few friends was safe. He could handle almost anyone else getting tortured besides his brother, but not Feliciano. He was too precious to be beaten.

The worst part of it all was the countries that had remained neutral were targeted. Everyone was trying to get their hands on one as if they were an expensive toy, not a person. Ludwig was under constant supervision, accompanied almost everywhere by several guards ready to give their life for him. Ludwig didn't like the idea of being constantly watched, but it was better than getting shot up or thrown in the back of a van.

Other countries weren't as lucky. Portugal was one of the first to be injured, having been stabbed thirteen times returning from a visit with his leader. The people who jumped him tore his chest up, even slitting his throat. But Portugal waited until they left and was able to get home with a knife still buried in his chest. This only made the urge to guard the nations stronger; even though Portugal healed quickly and assured everyone he was perfectly fine.

Recently, a group had attempted to hang Romania. While the killers laughed at his limp body, Romania was somehow able to undo the knot on the noose. Ludwig could only imagine the murders' surprise as Romania wriggled free and walked off with a snapped neck.

Then there were the countries that mysteriously went missing-in-action. Ukraine and Belarus had disappeared, not a trace left behind. The only evidence left behind was a somber note Belarus had saved on her laptop, dated July 24th. In it she wrote goodbyes to Toris, telling him how much she hated him. It was entirely unlike her, considering the two had just been holding hands and kissing at the last world conference.

The rest of the missing countries were captured by others. They were marched off to camps, forced to work day and night building weapons and bunkers used to kill their own citizens. A lot of the camps were unregulated, so they ranged from simple prisons to torture chambers. They brought back too many memories from the Second World War to Ludwig, the ones he had tried so hard to forget.

"What are we going to do if one of us has to fight?" Elizabeta whispered, clutching Roderich's hand even tighter.

"We'll stick together. We're family, after all," Roderich assured her, a faint smile on his worried face. "Except for Basch."

"Watch it, asshole. I'm as much of a part of this family as you are," Basch growled, glaring daggers at the Austrian.

"Oh, my bad. I didn't realize we accepted cheap goat farmers in my family." Roderich put his free hand on his chest in mock apology.

Basch stared the Austrian down, green eyes blazing. "I didn't realize we accepted men who marry people to solve their problems."

Roderich gasped, his face becoming red with anger. "You take that back, gun freak."

"Not until I'm accepted you lazy pianist," Basch smirked, clearly satisfied by how angry Roderich was getting.

The two of them continued to bicker, much to Ludwig's annoyance. Here they were, waiting to know if their country would fight or remain neutral, and all those two could do was argue about family.

Ludwig shook his head, looking back at the TV. The scene had changed from pictures of the French front lines covered in blood and debris. His chancellor was on now, giving a speech in front of a large crowd. They seemed very nervous, hands fidgeting and sweat on their forehead.

"Hey, Gil," Ludwig nudged his brother softly, trying to wake him.

"What…is it?" Gilbert moaned, turning away from Ludwig.

"My chancellor's speaking."

Gilbert shot up, tossing off the blanket. Elizabeta elbowed Roderich, snapping at him to stop fighting. Roderich argued with her for a minute, and then realized what was on the TV. Immediately he shut up, allowing the room to fall silent again.

The speech was mostly the same things everyone knew. They all knew of the camps in Poland, of the steadily growing empire that was Poland and Lithuania. Every country was against each other, even if they had a good relationship for years. Just days ago, Canada and America turned against each other. America supported Poland, while Canada felt Poland shouldn't try to take the Baltics into his tiny empire. Now Alfred and Matthew were at each other's throats, despite sharing the same blood.

Ludwig cautiously looked around the room, wondering if any of them would ever turn on him. Gilbert couldn't, and the tiny Lilli surely wouldn't fight him, but Basch and Elizabeta were liable to do some damage. The thought of looking down the barrel of a gun wielded by either of the two sent a shiver down his spine, wondering just how bad a bullet to the head could screw him up.

"And so," His chancellor announced, giving the audience a solemn look. "I have come to the conclusion there is only one thing to do."

Those words, dreaded by Ludwig beyond reason.

"We declare war on the Empire of Poland-Lithuania."