Chapter 2: Masked Cinderella in Venizia

Feliciano watched with frightful eyes at the suffering blond in his hospital bed. Arthur was now resting peaceful, only occasionally shook by a shiver or an incomprehensible mumble. Feliciano kept watch over the unconscious man. He felt responsible for England's current state. If England hadn't risked his life to save him … plus Feliciano remembered that England wasn't feeling well today … it's his fault. Outside, Spain and Prussia were probably waiting to visit since the doctor only allowed two people at a time to visit. The Italian could here his brother and France discuss England's condition with the doctor. Despite being nations, they all have a human body and so it's not really an issue if they seek human medical help. Although, they have to make sure they are not suffering from war or an economic illness. France had already made sure of that.

As soon as Arthur had started to cry out in unbearable pain and Feliciano panicked, France and the other three had rushed over. The Frenchman is one of the best when it comes to medical care and he immediately ordered everyone around, calling Germany to inform him of the situation, getting an ambulance ASAP, and he even started to diagnosed Arthur's condition to make sure that he wasn't suffering from any 'nation' illness.

"Francisco, the ambulance will be there in 15 minutes. How's Arturo?" Spain's stern and worried expression was growing ever darker the more he looked at Arthur. France shook a dismissive hand at him, too engrossed in his diagnosis.

"He's not suffering from anything nation-related … He shouldn't be in such pain … I can't even find a human cause for this either …" At France's cold analysis, Spain's temper took over.

"There has to be something wrong! Arturo! He can't … Why is he like that, Francia?"

"I-DON'T-KNOW." France growled darkly. Even if he didn't show it, France was just as worried as the Spaniard but he had to remain professional if he wanted to find what the fuck was wrong with his young master. Prussia was calling Ludwig to let him know what was happening while Romano was keeping his brother out of any more trouble.

"Al … Al …" Arthur kept hissing in his pained breath and the nations all thought he was referring to America. Spain's expression darkened significantly and he refused to let America know about this. Prussia didn't care and thought America would only get in the way. Romano had an unusual frown on his face, one that Veneziano couldn't exactly pinpoint. Feliciano himself felt a sudden surge of unhappiness and anger at the desperation he heard in Arthur's voice. But why … France, overall, had doubts that Arthur was calling America. In fact he had a nagging feeling telling him that if Arthur was calling this person then something was definitely wrong.

Arthur stirred in the hospital bed. Feliciano immediately jumped to his side, worried hazelnut watching the blond. From up close, Feliciano was surprised at how defenceless Arthur seemed. He had always thought of the blond as strong and intimidating, but laying there, so weak and defenceless … Feliciano could hardly recognized the nation he was so afraid of. Why was he afraid anyway? Arthur didn't look scary. In fact, you could say he looked very attractive with his golden mane, his pearly white skin, his delicate facial features … without his glaring and frowning, Arthur looked so beautiful. If he smiled more … like in the mask shop …

Feliciano blushed at the memory. He had never seen Arthur smile before. And such a soft smile, with those caring green eyes … it had caught the Northern Italian by surprise. His heart had jumped lightly and he had felt his face warm up unconsciously. Why …

Flashback …

Feliciano grinned happily as he watched the other nations look around the shop in awe. Indeed, his masks were amazing! Personally, Feliciano didn't need one, he had so many already he didn't know what to do with them. But he always enjoys just admiring new art. It makes him smile. It makes everyone smile. Ah. No. Not everyone is smiling. Feliciano noticed the fazed out expression of England. It was odd to see him like this. Usually, Italy would not dare approach the northern nation but England's unusual behaviour today sparked his curiosity.

"Inghilterra?"

Feliciano watched the blond snap back into reality. He shied away, expecting the Brit to snap in anger. He didn't. Arthur simply smiled at him, a warm and gentle smile, very unfitting of the scary and imposing England. Feliciano felt his heart jump and his pulse accelerate. Somehow … he felt like he had seen this smile before somewhere … And Dio, did Arturo look adorable when he wore that soft expression!

Feliciano frowned at the sudden warmth spreading through his body. He shouldn't be feeling all giddy just because of Arturo's smile. But he did have a nice smile! Pity he doesn't smile often. Maybe if Feliciano got to know him better …

Arthur's eyes settled on a particular mask. Feliciano smiled. This was quite a masterpiece. He could see why England would be drawn to it. Feliciano giggled inwardly as he pictured the blond wearing the mask. It would suit him. Although, the mask did have a more subtle, almost feminine elegance and grace, it didn't fit Arthur's strong aura and personality. But then again … Feliciano smiled at the thought of Arthur smiling gently. The mask would definitely suit this side of Arthur.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Feliciano breathed out until he realised that he had spoken out loud … and he was not talking about the mask. Luckily, Arthur didn't look at him and only nodded in consent. The odd expression on Arthur's face made Feliciano's heart scream. He had never bothered looking at the blond Englishman before, and now that he did, he was amazed at how deep his true nature was. It felt like looking through a mirror, only seeing the reflection but never the true person. Feliciano's amber gaze lingered a bit more on Arthur then switched back to the mask. It definitely would suit the blond. And Feliciano really wanted to see the beauty of the result. That's an artist for you!

"It's expensive though …" Feliciano frowned in annoyance and sadness.

Due to the economic crisis Europe was suffering, Italy struggled to tie loose ends. The pay of a country varies on the well-being of their economy. They are not richly paid unless the economy is booming. The state does pay for the UN meetings and such, but all personal expenses came out from Feliciano's pocket. This is the same for all countries. They are considered citizens and paid accordingly and the fact that they are immortal just means they can save up a lot. But Feliciano never was good at managing his money (which explains the state Italy is in right now) so he has little to no savings and his salary isn't all that much either. You'd be surprise but Feliciano currently doesn't earn more than an average worker in Italy. He couldn't afford fancy personal expenses, and Fratello would yell at him if he wasted even more money on a mask when he already has so many. He had really wanted to buy it for Arthur. He had really wanted to see Arthur wearing that mask …

"Do you want it?"

"Ve?" The Italian jumped at the sudden question. Arthur was still looking at the mask, as if afraid of scaring the brunet away if he turned around.

"I'll buy it for you. If you want it."

Feliciano stared at the blond, shock painted on his face. Why? Why would Arthur want to buy it for him? Feliciano knew why he wanted to buy the mask for the blond. He wanted to see the beautiful art he imagined. But what reason had Arthur to want to buy him something?

"Why? You should buy it for yourself … and I don't have the money to …"

"I didn't ask for repayment. I don't mind buying it for you. I know your economy is a bit …"

Feliciano didn't answer immediately, causing an awkward silence to stretch. Yes, he couldn't afford gifts to others but … he didn't want to mask for himself! England misunderstood! In fact, he wanted to buy it for him! He had to explain himself out before Arturo really does buy him the mask …

"Grazie but …"

Running like a madman, Feliciano stumbled against passer-byes. He didn't stop, only shouted rushed apologies. He had to find Arturo!

Why?

Why did he have to find Arturo? England is a responsible country, more responsible than himself and if anything, Feliciano is more likely to accidentally drown in his own Venetian canals than Arthur would, or get lost, or chased by a dog, or stuck up a tree … He really didn't need to worry. England was probably just taking a walk around, admiring the architectural wonders of Venice.

But he worried. And he didn't know why.

Feliciano couldn't explain it but he had felt a sudden emptiness in his whole being, as if he was about to lose something. Something he desperately didn't want to lose. Something he had already lost and was just beginning to find once again. Why? Why would he be so desperate? He didn't know but it had something to do with Arturo. Maybe he should ask the blond when he finds him. Assuming he ever does find him.

"Scusa!" Feliciano shouted once again as he bumped into yet another person. But unlike the other strangers, this one grabbed his shoulders and stopped him in his frantic track.

"Feli? Che passa?" Purring Spanish asked and Feliciano recognised his fellow nations. Romano had been taking the Bad Touch Trio on a separate tour of Venice and they had just bumped into the panicked North Italy. Romano unceremoniously pushed his Spanish friend aside and checked out the hysterical state of his brother. Never before in a very, very long time had he seen his northern half so distressed, not since Nonno Roma's death. What happened?

"Oi! Stupido! Feliciano! What happened?" The other three watched in slight concern and curiosity. Feliciano started to sob in his brother's arms, babbling incomprehensibly but Romano seemed to understand every word.

"The tea bastard?"

Romano's voice shook unusually but Feliciano paid no heed to it. He was simply glad that Lovino was now snapping orders to the other three to look for England. The urgency in Lovino's voice surprised them all but they assumed he was simply concerned about his brother. France was more than happy to help since had wondered about his young master's condition ever since his passing out in the meeting. Spain was growing very anxious, searching around like a desperate lost puppy although he would never admit that he still held feelings for his past pirate love. Prussia was concerned but more so because he didn't understand what was going on. Luckily, he seemed to be the only one who kept his cool and his head clear of pointless emotions, red eyes scanning around for any clue on England's whereabouts. His calm and analytic (military almost) behaviour allowed him to quickly spot his unconscious English friend. Something was definitely wrong if England had passed out on the pavement.

"Hey! Isn't it him, over there?"

Feliciano looked up when the door opened to reveal his distressed brother and a concerned France. They both looked grim and worried, their eyes settling briefly on the sleeping blond before shifting to the awaiting brunet.

"They don't know what's wrong with him yet. Apparently, his body is suffering huge stress but they wouldn't tell us more." France hissed, clearly annoyed. Had they been in his country, he was sure he could have helped England more or at least he would have been informed of his illness.

France glanced at his young master. Never before had he seen England in such a state. Not during wars or invasions, not during the worst of depressions or inflations, not during famine or social revolts, not even after natural catastrophes that could occasionally strike nations. Never. Not once had he seen him in such a bad state.

"We should leave. Antonio and Gilbert want to see him too." France was mindful to use only their human names while in presence of other humans.

Romano nodded, his face blank and in shock, he looked like a puppet following orders, denied of any will of his own. He diligently followed France, not complaining once. Feliciano, on the other hand, shook his head, not moving an inch away from Arthur's side. France sighed but allowed the younger nation to stay. He couldn't really tell Feliciano that it wasn't his fault … that might be a lie. And France never lied when a life was at sake, especially the life of his young master.

Motioning to Spain, he allowed only the Spaniard to walk in, since the doctors had been strict on only two people visiting at once. Prussia nodded, understanding, he was texting to Germany on his phone, keeping the others informed of any news until they arrived. Spain walked in the room with the face of widowed husband, clenching his fist as he tried to contain all of his temperamental anger and despair. He wasn't really good at managing his emotions … unlike England. Damn it! Spain fell to his knees in next to the sleeping England. Here he was, thinking that after all those years he had finally gotten over his small crush on the island nation. How wrong he was. You never realise what you do have, until you suddenly lose it. And then, only regret is left.

Feliciano watched the Spaniard tear up as he held and kissed Arthur's hand. He should be feeling compassionate of his Iberian friend. After all, Feliciano was well aware of Spain's feelings. Romano always talked about it and complained. Thinking back, Romano more often complained about Spain's crush on England than anything else related to the Spaniard. Feliciano knew that Spain and England had been lovers. They even have a daughter, although how she came to being is still a mystery since the two nations are male. The Italian should feel supportive of his friend … well, of his brother's friend. And yet … he wasn't. All Feliciano could feel was emptiness and maybe even annoyance at how Antonio held Arthur's hand. A possessive feeling was slowly growing in the depth of his heart. There was something … something about Arturo that made Feliciano wonder. Something he had lost and wanted to claim back. But what?

"Are you an idiot?! You could have died! I can't believe you would just rush head first without thinking!"

"V-ve … scusa …"

"I'm not angry! Gosh, why are you so wimpy? Are you really Rome's heir?"

Feliciano lowered his head in shame. His body shivering and dripping of ice cold water. He had nearly drown had someone not been around to save him … again. A soft hand patted his head and he soon felt a body embrace him. They were both soaked wet but somehow, Feliciano felt himself warm up at the other's touch. A gentle chuckle reached his ears.

"Just make sure someone's around to save you again next time."

Feliciano snapped his eyes open. He realised he was alone in the room, outside shouts could be heard along with arguing nations. America was yelling angrily and Romano was snapping back just as angrily. Sicily and Sardegna were defending their brother, China was going hysterical and Russia was trying to calm him down. Spain was yelling at France who seemed to be grow anxious as Arthur's condition was getting worse, Germany and Prussia trying to appease the two Latins and overall, Feliciano was surprised he had managed to fall asleep despite the angry shouts outside. The doctors had given up on expelling the nations since Romano quickly made them know just who he was (not the nation but he probably said that he was a representative of Italy).

Stirring from the bed drew Feliciano's attention and leaning forward, he saw Arthur's emerald eyes flutter open. They both blinked at one another until Arthur yelped in surprise. Feliciano didn't hesitate to hug the blond nation, not realising that he was hurting Arthur in the process.

"Arturo! You're awake! I'm so glad and so sorry! I didn't mean to fall and make you save me! I'm sorry! It's my fault you got sick! Scusa! Arturo! I'm so happy you're alive!"

"F-Feli-ciano … can't … breathe …" Arthur hissed in pain and was immediately released.

"Si! Scusa! Are you hurt?"
Arthur tuned out from Feliciano's endless series of questions, his dazed emeralds scanning his surroundings. Looks like a hospital room … please tell me it's not a fucking hospital room …

"Where …?" Arthur let out in his struggle for breath. Feliciano's sharp reply came instantly.

"Hospital!"

"Can't … Need to … leave …"

"Ve? Leave? But you can't leave! You're sick!"

"Need … Al …"

Again, Feliciano felt it. This sharp pain crushing his heart as he heard Arthur call America. He didn't know why but he didn't like to hear Arthur ask for someone else when he was here.

"If you need anything, I can help! I'm here!" Feliciano smiled is broadest smile but Arthur barely took notice, too busy searching for something.

"Time …"

"The time? It's quarter to ten, Arturo! Ah, the ball will be starting soon …" Feliciano shook his head. How could he be thinking about the festival when Arthur was in critical condition. Luckily, England didn't seem to mind the distraction. He stayed pensive for a minute before gathering enough strength to form a full sentence.

"Sorry … I can't stay for the festival … I … need to leave …"

"Ve? B-But your condition …"

"Do you … still want it?"

Feliciano blinked in confusion. Arthur forced a smile on his face, like he was worried he might scare the younger one. Oh, Feliciano was scared. Terrified. But not of Arthur. He was scared for Arthur's sake.

"The mask …?" Arthur explained. Feliciano blushed. How could the blond still think about that when he's laying in a hospital bed?

"Ve! No! I … I actually wanted to buy it for you because you seemed to like it and it would suit you but I didn't have the money and … Arturo?" Feliciano stared with shocked eyes as the blond suddenly shook of small punctuated chuckles.

"You're still the same air-head …" The chuckles turned into coughs. Feliciano tried to help but the door of the room suddenly slammed open and America appeared in the doorway, red-faced and distressed.

"ARTHUR! I'M HERE! ARTHUR! WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Arthur cringed at the sudden loud shouts. America was bad enough but soon, all the other nations followed suit, all talking or yelling at the same time. And damn did his head hurt! Arthur was barely conscious and those wankers were already getting on his nerves! The doctors didn't risk themselves in trying to stop the commotion of nations around the blond.

"ARTHUR! I'M SO SORRY! I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE TO HELP YOU! PLEASE DON'T DIE!"

"Alfred! Yelling is not going to help the young master! So just shut up! Arthur, mon lapin, ça va? How are you feeling?"

"Arturooooooo! Lo siento! I didn't know you were unwell!"

"Right, Because you didn't see him pass out in the conference earlier, bastard?"

"But I didn't think he was that sick …" Spain sheepishly answered to a raging Romano. France tried to contain America with the help of Canada.

"Arthur looks really pale, da?"
"YOU GODDAMN COMMIE, STAY AWAY FROM MY ARTHUR!"

"Excuse me? Your Arthur, aru? Since when was he ever yours, Hamburger face?" China growled as he tried to keep his calm like the old nation he was … which was really difficult since all he wants right now is to punch America.

"Yao-san, Alfred-san, I don't think Asa-san needs fighting right now." Arthur recognised his Japanese name, the one Kiku uses only when he's seriously emotional.

"Kiku's right! All of you are just being careless and irresponsible! Lovino, stop strangling Antonio! Antonio put your axe away! Bruder go and help Frank contain Alfred!"

"Oi West, I think Arthur wants to speak to Alfred, doesn't he?"

"YEAH!"

"NO!" Many nations shouted back at the loud American.

"WHY NOT?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE TOO DAMN NOISY HAMBURGER BASTARD!" Romano yelled and it all went beyond England's comprehension after that.

"WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP! ARTHUR NEEDS REST AND YOU ARE ALL HINDERING IT!" France yelled.

"Frank don't yell, you're making things worse!" Prussia pointed out.

"Hum … Maybe Arthur is hungry? My sister can cook really good food." Russia suggested.

"I don't think Asa-san would suffer like that from just hunger!"

"He would if he were starving. My people and I suffer like that every winter …"

"IT'S THE COMMIE'S FAULT!"

"Aiya! I know! What Arthur needs is my great Chinese medicine!"

"If we're talking about medical care, my young master would be better taken care off at my place!"

"I don't think Arthur should be moved around yet, Frank …"

"Don't bother Luddy, he's gone into doctor mode."

"Ve? Arturo?"

Arthur took a deep breath as he tried to clear the fogginess in his mind and gathered enough strength to actually speak louder than a simple whisper.

"Arthur needs all you fucking tossers to go wanking off fuck knows where and bloody leave me be in fucking peace and quiet!"

They all silenced at the cracking voice of the Englishman. Arthur let out a few coughs before looking around for his phone.

"Phone …"

"What phone, mon lapin."

Ah good, the damn frog is here. He has Al's number.

"Phone … Al …"

"I'M HERE ENGLAND!" America rushed to Arthur's side, only to be pushed away by the sick man. "A-Arthur? Dude?"

"Not you, wanker … Frog … Call … Al … Al-stor …"

"… Who the fuck is Alstor?" Alfred frowned, sudden anger rising in him. How could Arthur call anybody else Al but him?! But France understood perfectly and hurriedly started to dial on his mobile. He never got a chance to phone than the said Al was charging his way through the hospital halls, pulling with him a shocked and outraged Vatican.

The door slammed open and an imposing man with broad shoulders, pearly white skin, intense crimson hair and sharp emerald eyes appeared in the doorway. He held poor Vatican by the hair in a firm grip. It was easy to recognised the religious nation. The priest outfit kind of gave it away, and his hair curl seemed to curve around his head like an aureole. He kept cursing almost as colourfully as Romano which was surprising coming from Vatican, his golden eyes glaring at the red hair who had abducted him. Frankly, Scotland had simply needed someone to guide him through Venice to find his brother, even if it turns out to be a religious wanker.

"WHERE THE FUCKING BLOODY HELL IS ME BROTHER?!" The Scotsman growled darkly, causing every nation to jump a few feet back. His emerald eyes settled on the sick blond and a sparkle of relief shone in the green eyes. He unceremoniously dropped Vatican and rushed to his brother's side.

"Al …?" Arthur asked tentatively, his vision was now back to being an absolute blur and he couldn't see anything.

"Aye, s'me lady. You're going to be fine! Let's go home, aye?"

"Aye … sorry … for the trouble …"

"No trouble at all. No trouble. At. All. Just relax, alright?"

The older Briton gently picked up the now unconscious body of his brother and walked out of the room, ignoring the other nations and the doctors who tried to stop him. One acid green glare was enough to silence every doctor around.

Feliciano and the other nations blinked slowly, as if awaking from a dream. Then the realisation that Arthur had just been kidnapped (well, sort of) downed on them. America was first to rush out of the room, followed closely by Romano, Spain and China. France frowned but didn't bother running after the two British siblings. As soon as America looked around the corner, expecting to see the red hair carrying away his Arthur, he was met with an empty corridor.

"He just … vanished." The confused American muttered, hoping someone could explain to him what on bloody earth (as Arthur would say) happened.

Feliciano sighed again. He had probably been sighing more than breathing ever since the beginning of the ball. Wearing his dark blue tuxedo with an elegant white mask covering the upper half of his face and in the shape of the classical Harlequin mask although with added artistic modifications. He was leaning against a corner of the ballroom. All he could hear from the buzzing around was the event at the hospital. Humans talked about the strange sick man and that crazy people that had threatened the doctors (that would be them) followed by the mysterious disappearance of the sick blond. Nations, although Feliciano couldn't tell which were nations and which were humans due to their masks, mostly talked about Arthur's strange sickness and wondered about the identity of the red haired man. Of course, not many nations knew about Arthur's siblings. Feliciano himself had had to ask France about the strange man. His only answer was:

"Scotland. His human name is Alistair. And trust me, Feli, you should not try to get in his way. Arthur will be fine with him so don't worry."

But Feliciano worried. He didn't know why but he worried.

He felt powerless and again like he had lost something. Something dear and precious. Something he had long forgotten.

From the corner of his eye Feliciano saw his brother Vatican walk up to him. Romano was brooding darkly in a corner too, Sicily and Sardinia by his side and trying to cheer him up. Feliciano vaguely wondered why Lovino would be concerned about Arthur. Then again, looking around, he noticed everyone was concerned.

"Stop thinking about him."

The Northern Italian shifted his attention back to his eldest brother. Vatican, or more commonly Pietro, was still dressed in his religious attire, with rich golden linings, and wearing a golden mask that fully covered his face with only two slits for his eyes.

"Pietro …" Feliciano never called Vatican 'Fratello'. That title was reserved to Romano. The one who actually did act more like a brother to him. Vatican had always considered himself separate from Italy … and he technically still is and independent state.

"Why do you care anyway?" The priest challenged, his cold expression probably as cold as the mask he wore.

"I don't know. I feel … I've lost something. And it's my fault that he … Arturo tried to save me and he …"

"He was already sick. If anything, it as foolish of him."

Feliciano glared at his brother. You rarely get to see Feliciano glare but when he does, he reminds people of Rome, the great conqueror.

"He helped me."

"And you helped him to a hospital. You have no more obligation."

"He … I don't but I want to!"

"Why?"

"… I don't know yet."

"Feliciano, the world you live in isn't free. Whatever you may think you owe this man, be careful to trade carefully. Life is a game. Only the winner walks free." Pietro whispered those last words with hope that they might have some effect on his carefree brother. The same words Rome had spoke to him.

Life is a game. Only the winner walks free.

Feliciano ignored his older brother and walked away to mingle in the crowd. He soon got swallowed up and felt strangely uneasy. He doesn't usually feel this uncomfortable around people but this time, for some reason, he just wanted to be left alone. That might have been too much to ask, as he was soon drawn out from the peace of his mind and faced with reality by the loud and excited whispers of people around him. Looking up, his natural curiosity sparked as he listened to the ushered conversation. A newcomer to the ball? At this late hour? Feliciano glanced at his watch. 12: 46. The firework was at 01:00 and the ball had already been undergoing for almost 3 hours now. Who could be arriving this late …

Feliciano's mouth dropped and his eyes widened at the sight. He felt his heart rush and his whole body go numb. Everything else vanished around him and the only thing left in his world was the approaching figure of the woman in her blue dress.

Her beautiful feline figure, although small was nevertheless gracious and elegant as she gilded on the floor like a princess. Her short blond hair would look even better if they were a bit longer. Her soft milky skin and ruby red lips, Feliciano felt an urge to kiss them. And her feral grace, her natural charisma seemed to draw the attention by her sheer presence.

Nation or human? None could tell. Her face unknown, hidden behind a familiar black mask.

Everyone requested the stranger's hand to dance. So much that Feliciano never got a chance to approach her until she suddenly left. Feliciano followed the woman as she exited the ballroom. The firework would be starting anytime soon. He stopped her, called her, tried to understand her. She turned back to face him, a smirk on her lips. The Italian could have sworn he had seen her before …

"Prego … May I have your name, my lady?" He asked with his best seductive purr. The one that can make any lady fall to his feet. He spoke English, hoping she would understand since she didn't look Italian.

But she only laughed. Placing her slender finger against the Italian's lips she whispered with a smirk that could make the devil flee but completely subjugated the Italian.

"I'm no lady."