"I told you, that window isn't going to break. I'm pretty sure it's bullet proof." The voice of Wales flooded in through the darkness as Arthur slowly came to. Arthur blinked, squinting against the light.
"I don't give a damn what you told me, Owen! We've been in here way too bloody long, I'm not staying another second!" Scotland's voice was raised in frustration, and there was a thump as he rammed his shoulder into the windowpane.
England managed a shaky laugh, pain shooting through his torso, "Idiot... You'll break your bloody shoulder..." He muttered, catching his brothers' attention.
"Look who's finally up! Lazy sod." Northern Ireland chimed in, seated on the edge of the bed.
England groaned as he sat up, finding his torso completely wrapped in bandages. And poorly. "God... Did you lot do this...?" He ran a hand carefully over the stained linen.
Owen gave a small laugh, "Yeah... Patrick stole the stuff, Ali and I patched you up."
Arthur shook his head, "Think you did more damage then the bullets did.." He joked.
"We did a fine job. Least you're not still bleeding." Alistair huffed.
Arthur rolled his eyes before attempting to stand. Patrick jumped up from the bed to help him. "You were out for a few days..." He informed.
Arthur spent a few moments getting used to standing before carefully walking shakily to the window with Patrick's help.
Alistair had quit slamming himself against it.
Arthur gazed out the window, realizing that they were in Buckingham Palace. He frowned. Why were they still here?
Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, and the door was opened. "Privyet!" Came the painfully cheerful Russian, echoing slightly off the walls. "Come with me! I have surprise for you."
Guards stepped into the room, cuffing the occupied nation's hands behind their backs and dragging then from the room, Alistair giving and indignant comment on 'being able to walk on his own'. Ivan lead the way until they stepped out onto a balcony, looking over the courtyard. Several guards stood behind them, and the brothers stepped forward to look down.
After a few moments, a guard stepped out into the courtyard, leading a small line of people to stand in good view of the balcony. It took a moment, as they were dressed in rags and badly bruised, but the realization was simultaneous and heart-stopping.
Before them stood the Royal family, the children crying quietly, as well as the Prime Minister and several prominant families and politicians. They stood in chains, heads down, facing the shocked British Isles.
"What...? What the Hell is happening!?" Wales demanded, turning to scowl at Russia. A guard raised their gun.
"Turn. Watch." Was all Ivan said, and without answers, Owen did as he was told. Several soldiers came out, all armed, one for each prisoners. They stood in front of the line and waited.
An order was shouted in Russian, and the soldiers raised their guns.
"No... No..! They're just children!" Arthur realized first what was happening, voice raising into something of a scream.
Another order called.
The gunshots rang out, echoing.
They watched in horror as the blood spattered and the bodies fell.
Pain burst through their chests, suddenly making it difficult to breathe.
Alistair whipped around to face Ivan, "What the fuck is wrong with you!? You bloody bastard I swear to God if I weren't bound I would kill you!" He yelled, scowling at the smug smile across the Russian's lips.
Owen and Patrick both slowly turned away from the scene. "You son of a bitch..." Patrick growled, fixing Ivan with an icy glare.
Arthur could only stare at the bodies.
The soldiers had gone back in. Blood began to pool around the dead. He couldn't breath. Those he was sworn to protect and serve were gone... But his people weren't.
The Englishman set his jaw, turning to Ivan, eyes glittering with determination.
Alistair was still yelling, but Arthur silence him by stepping in front of the three of them.
"That display was cruel and inhumane- if you think that it accomplished something, it did not. We aren't animals, there is no need to keep us bound." His tone was laced with rage, but he remained diplomatic, "Take us wherever it is you mean to, but be warned. Our people are very attached to our royalty."
Ivan only smiled at him, as though he were pleased with this response. "Come then. We will be going to Moscow, where you can stay with your..." His gaze flicked over the group of them, "Colleagues." He turned and lead the way, guards uncuffing the former UK and taking up the rear.
They boarded a helicopter, making themselves comfortable for the long flight.
There was pain in their chests, and the scene ran through their minds on repeat. But they stayed silent. They stayed still. Their minds worked.
Arthur shed only a few tears, refusing to let himself properly cry. He set his mind on the only thing that mattered.
Liberation.