Wonderland

AngolMoaChan

Chapter Two: The Diamond King

I decided to finish this chapter early as a little birthday present to myself! Be glad my bday's the 27th, guys! XD

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"Eng~laaaaaaaaaaaaand!"

Sitting in a large, mahogany desk, elbow deep in paperwork, was the King of Diamond himself, Arthur "England" Kirkland, his blonde head bobbing as he signed his way through paper after paper. Undistracted, he continued writing; feverishly scrawling his large feathered quill across the white pages, hoping the annoyance would just go away.

Unfortunately, it never did.

The annoyance, who had earned himself his own private nickname in England's mind, was currently leaning on the doorway of his superior's office, a cocky grin on his face. Carrying a large bomber jacket over his shoulder, the blonde man adjusted his square glasses over his face, "Aww, come on, Iggy, I know you hear me."

"That is not my name, America. Can't you see I'm busy?"

Finally, a response from the King. He frowned at the one called America, his rather thick eyebrows furrowing. America ignored his irritation, shifting his weight with a cheerful grin. "The sun is shining, the birds are singing…it's a beautiful day, England! Let's get the hell out of this paperwork infested—"

"America, why aren't you wearing your uniform?"

America frowned, his cheer momentarily interrupted. He personally thought his attire was fine—black pants, a red, white and blue t-shirt, and his Diamond emblem, pinned on his broad chest. "What? That stupid thing? I don't like it—heroes don't wear wool."

England rolled his eyes and rested his chin in his hand, setting his quill down on the desk. There was a touch of affection in his voice as he spoke, "Hero this, hero that, blah, blah, blah…you're bloody irritating."

America just grinned in response, the insult sailing right over his blonde head. England sighed and shook his head, returning to his paperwork. America's "selective hearing" never ceased to amaze him.

Not that he would ever tell him that, of course. Being promoted to General of the King's Army at the tender age of 19 gave America a big enough head; any more compliments, and it might explode.

The thought made England chuckle. America's head exploding. Nothing would come out but fluff, he guessed.

"ENGLAND! ENGLAAAAAAAAAAAAND!"

The King was rudely snapped out of his thoughts by a high-pitched, horrified squeal. America barely had time to move out of the way as a red and blue blur shot through the doorway, only to be grabbed by the scruff of the neck. America turned, looking at his catch. "Oh, hello there, Italy."

Dressed in officer reds and blues was a young man with reddish brown hair, a terrified expression on his face, tears in the corners of his eyes. He was holding a white piece of paper, and only stopped sobbing to look at his captor. "Oh, America—"

America chuckled and set Italy on his feet, brushing him off, "What's wrong, little guy?"

England frowned, "I believe he was addressing me. Italy, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm the King now, and you should treat me as such—"

"But, but, England, it's terrible! I got a message from the Heart Kingdom!"

England frowned, raising one fuzzy eyebrow and ignoring the lack of well, respect. It wasn't like he meant it. "The…Heart? That's odd. What does it say?"

Italy's lip quivered, and he burst into tears, his small shoulders shaking with heavy sobs, "It—it--!"

"It's an SOS." Came another voice from the doorway. All three men looked up to see a tall blonde officer, who respectfully snapped a salute. "Your Highness, General."

"Germany," England replied, keeping his voice steady, "Is it a trap?"

He shook his head; Italy bawled loudly and ran over to embrace Germany, burying his face in the tall man's coat. "No. I believe it's genuine."

The King stood up immediately. "America—"

"Two steps ahead of ya, boss!" America, pistol already in hand, bounded out of the door, yelling all sorts of orders down the hallway. England grabbed a red and white coat from a rack beside him and pulled it on, looping a large rifle over his shoulder. "Germany, I'm putting you in charge of things until I get back. Understood?"

Germany nodded, snapping a salute. "Sir."

"Good." He headed out of the doorway and paused, midstep, turning back to look at Italy. He cleared his throat, blushing a bit." And…Italy—I'm sure your brother will be fine, and whatnot."

"Huh?" Italy hiccuped, tilting his head.

"N-nevermind." England muttered, and moved out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Romano panted as he leaned up against the telegram machine, sinking to the floor. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed his brother, and England, and the rest of those idiots at the Diamond Kingdom. Spain needed them. He interlaced his fingers together and looked over at the now barred, locked door, then rest his forehead against his hands.

"Romano," Greece said gently, moving towards the younger man, "Did it send?"

He nodded weakly. "Yeah…yeah, it did. Hopefully help will be coming."

"Good. Well then," He stood up and brushed off his knees, then held out his hand to Romano. "I know a way out through the kennels."

"The…kennels?" Romano looked up at him—a chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head. "Hell, Greece, I would've never thought your cat obsession would come in handy."

Gripping his forearm, Romano hopped to his feet and moved to the barred door. Greece smiled and opened it a crack. "After you."

"Hahahaha, come on, girly! Can't take the heat, get out of the kitchen!"

Prussia laughed delightedly as he blocked Belarus' every strike, steel hitting steel as the two clashed. She was fast and strong, more so than he had been expecting, and Prussia was surprised to find himself having some trouble. That didn't happen often.

"Hold still!" shrieked Belarus, slashing her knife through the air, narrowly missing Prussia's forehead. He ducked the blade and brought his against it, slamming her knife down with the brunt of the force from his light weapon. A rapier—people had made fun of him for his choice of weapon when he was kid…until he beat their asses with it of course. It was light, fast, and strong, and Prussia wouldn't have it any other way. Belarus spun on her heel, bringing her knife around with a massive amount of force. With a loud clang, Prussia met her, steel for steel. As the two battled for dominance of the fight, Belarus grinned. "Fool! Don't you understand?! Even if you beat me, there will be more! You will become one with the Spade Country!"

"Spade country, huh? Have to say, I don't like it there!" The end of Prussia's sentence was barely a grunt as he sliced downwards, knocking Belarus' knife out of her hand. It sailed across the room before landing with a clatter on the black and white tiles. Belarus cursed in her native language—Prussia put his rapier at her neck. "Well, well! Look who wins, after all."

"You think you've won?!" spat Belarus, a grin on her face, even as the tip of the sword touched the skin of her throat, "Your precious little King is up there with my brother, and he's probably dead by now too! Just like everyone else!"

Prussia frowned. "The hell do you mean? My King—he beat me! Your precious 'brother' would be child's play!"

"Don't you dare insult him!"

"Who, your broootherr? The weakling who's probably dead as a doornail upstairs?"

"I said…don't insult him!" Suddenly, Belarus slipped a small throwing knife from her sleeve, gripped the tiny handle, then threw it; Prussia narrowly dodged the knife screaming at his face and ducked backwards. This millisecond breach in the rapier at her throat was enough for her to dash out and grab her knife, holding at the ready. Prussia let out a long, low whistle.

"Sorry, girl. I took more violence from a girl than you could ever show me in this lifetime. You should just give up! There's simply no way you can beat me."

"WATCH ME!" with a shriek, Belarus rushed him, knife raised…

"Spain, Spain, can't we just talk?" asked Russia, same old smile on his face. Spain was panting, his saber still in hand. Russia wielded that pipe like an ancient weapon, and he could feel himself weakening with every shot he landed. Spain gripped his saber tight, his green eyes boring into Russia's.

"Talk? You murdered—all of these people!" Spain swiped his saber in the air for emphasis, then rushed him again, his own mind clouded with rage. Romano, Greece, so many people he had cared for with so much of his being, all dead now, because of one overly ambitious man. It made Spain sick. The dark-haired man thrust his weapon forward, and it clanged against Russia's pipe; the two Kings began circling each other, like lions on charge.

"Just join my country, da? No one else will have to die if you just give in, Your Highness."

"No one else will die! I refuse to let that happen, not after so many already have. I'm sure that girl was just a trap, trying to suck me into a battle while you stole the Red Piece, hmm?"

The smile on Russia's face instantly went dark. "You fell for it…almost. I did not expect you to send Prussia."

"He is my military captain. I trust him." Spain replied, his face set in a tight line. "Only one person in this castle besides myself knows where the Red Piece is…and you, well, you killed him."

The venom in Spain's voice was real; there was so much anguish behind such few words. Russia frowned. "…Your right hand. The elder Italy, da?"

"What does it matter? You've killed him, and I—I will take the secret with me to my grave! You will never take the Heart Kingdom, as long as I, el Rey del Pais de Corazón, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo stand on this ground!" With that said, he leapt forward, his saber a mere blur as he took on Russia's pipe. Spain slashed upwards with the skill that had made him King; it was a shame that Russia was just as talented. Back, forth, back and forth they exchanged blows, their weapons nearly invisible at the speed of the battle. Spain feinted towards Russia's head and ducked under as his pipe sailed into the space where his forehead would have been and slashed towards his belly, slicing open his heavy coat.

Russia stumbled backwards and Spain saw his chance, lifting his saber. He sliced downwards, but Russia brought up his pipe, holding it with both hands. Spain pushed against the pipe, as hard as he could, pouring his grief, his rage, everything he had into the blade before him. Russia gripped his pipe hard, pushing upwards with similar strength—suddenly, with a great thrust, Spain's saber sailed into the air, and Russia had him on the ground, a smile on his face.

"We will find the Piece even without your guidance, King Spain. It was nice seeing you again, but I'm afraid you must join your little friends in death—"

Suddenly, there was the sound of lead hitting metal; Russia's pipe flew out of his hands as if shocked. Standing in the doorway, pistol in hand, was none other than America, who blew the smoke off of the weapon and grinned. "We got your message, and don't you worry, your hero has arrived!"

"Amer…my…message? What?" Suddenly, the Heart King began feeling woozy—all those hits to the head seemed to catch up to him. Spain saw stars, before finally hitting the floor, out cold.

"Bela!"

A voice echoed through the massive hallways of the Corazón. Belarus, hearing her name, perked up, leaping away from Prussia, who looked around for the source of the voice. "What the hell--?"

"We are done here for today! Reinforcements have arrived. We must go."

Belarus turned to Prussia and curtseyed. With a smile, the blood on her nose giving it a sadistic tinge, the girl turned and disappeared into the night, racing out of the doorway to surely, meet her brother.

Prussia let out a long sigh and slumped against a wall, resting his head against the cool stone. The cuts on his body were bleeding pretty hard now—that girl had sure as hell done a number on him. "Heh. Wait till Hungary sees this…she's got some competition in the Crazy Department."

And that's the end of chapter two! What's the Red Piece you ask? Well, you'll find out next chapter. XD

Also, my Spanish isn't as good as it used to be. But the line in Spanish he said was basically "The King of the Heart Country" XD (Simple FTW.)

Also, this is my 69th story. And it's action, and not romance. What's wrong with me? XD