A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I have enoguht time to start regularly making my fics, so I hope you enjoy! From here on out, this story will be exhibiting more and more dark concepts and views. As they come, I will be marking where they are and warning you with such.

This chapter will contain some descriptions of choking, body horror as well as a voodoo concept and descriptions of blood. Each part will be marked with an asterisk (*).

Residing in Water

Chapter Three: Protecting Papa

November 2nd, 12:00 PM

A tired Francis was gathering his papers and neatly tucking them into folders. Everyone else left the meeting room save for Arthur and Alfred, whom were waiting for Francis outside. Somehow, the Frenchman felt unease being in the room alone, but Francis was almost done. Still, the uneasiness thickened.

And thickened...

Thickened...

To the point where Francis grew to be frightened. In exasperation, he looked around. What was happening here? He gasped when he heard the cabinets in the room rattle and rattle, as if being shaken by an actual person, however no one was there. Francis in the state of shock stayed froen in place. The slightest move could have ruined him. He didn't want that.

A knock is his salvation.

"Dude, Francis, you okay in there?" It was Alfred, by the gods.

"Oui, Je suis parfait!" He lied, and as the rattling ceased, he flew out of that room.

I will get you, I will get you.

A voice sounds and a nation's body lies on the ground. His eyes are closed and yet there are tears. A dark form smirked. Stage one was turning him against France, the next, tonight.

The three of them are being watched. Or so Francis thinks.

Arthur lightly touched Francis' shoulder, emitting a flinch. He did not understand that. Ever since Francis came out of the meeting room, he'd been acting weird, more cautious. All the Englishman knew is that he wanted to protect him. Badly. When push comes to shove, that's all that mattered ever since his revelation from yesterday, and his love. He wants to hold him, kiss him, even, and comfort him through all the sorrows this may bring, and more. However is fear is that Francis will not believe. From enemies, to friends, now lovers so quickly? Who in their right standing would believe? But Arthur knows he's changed, despite natural arrogance and pride. One's feelings for another are allowed to change.

"Francis are you certainly alright?" At Francis' residence, they would soon approach, Alfred was asked to linger behind them "to make sure."

"I am alright. Please do not worry." Half a lie.

"You are acting jumpy ever since we left that room."

Francis shook his head. He began to respond, but his head suddenly pounded and the Frenchman held the sides of his head.

I will get you! I will get you!

Arthur turned to Francis and held him tightly, shouting, "Alfred, check the area! Something is invading Francis' mind! Quickly!" Alfred nodded and began to look around, behind trees and bushes for any person or entity against them. Arthur at Francis' aid began to do every spell he could muster, from comforting spells to calm mind spells, but all they did was soften him. He was still crying.

"Francis, speak to me, I beg you!"

"I will get you. I will get you," He whispers, clinging to Arthur for dear life.

"...What?"

"The voice! It is a voice, Arthur! Something is going to get me! It's going to get me! Help me! Aidez-moi, aidez-moi! Please, Arthur! Oh God, help-"

A kiss to his forehead. It is another spell, a calm mind spell. To bar from negativity- a minor one at best. It doesn't even work well. Francis stared as Arthur pulled away. He felt calm. Safe. Secure. The pounding in his head vanished, even faster than it appeared. Francis, confused, didn't even know how to question it. Arthur held his hand again, and the jolting feeling from All Hallows Even was felt again.

"I said that I will protect you Francis. I do not lie."

Alfred approached slowly, but the look on his face was a knowing one.

*Francis' home. A unsettling atmosphere.

Francis is in his bedroom alone. The others were in his living room downstairs. He flips through the pages of his Book absentmindedly. That voice he heard haunted him. The more he thought of it, the more disgusted and hurt he felt. A burning sensation snapped Francis out of his thoughts. A page in his book. The content, a spell.

Sylphs of air wash over me,

Give back my breath.

Pretty straightfoward. But for what reason may I need for this?

Francis regretted asking. The curtain to his bedroom window flew off and headed straight for his neck, tightening, tightening, tightening. Harsh tears fell from his eyes. He couldn't call for help. His hands grip the curtain for some sort of salvation, but to no avail. If he couldn't speak the spell, he could not save himself. Downstairs, Alfred and Arthur were oblivious to his peril. He felt himself losing conciousness, black dots appearing in his eyes. Francis could not go. Not like this. Warrented he would come back due to rule of modern-nations, but Francis knew, knew to an extent of what the danger was and what could happen should he go.

Maybe, maybe I-I don't have to say...

He wheezed. He was surprised by his own endurance but he had to act fast.

Sylphs of Air, wash over me! He cries out in his mind. Give back my breath!

Salvation was heeded. The curtain loosed from around his neck and dropped upon his lap. He coughed aloud, enough for anyone to hear and that is when Arthr and Alfred burst in, running over to him.

"Francis, what on Earth happened?!" Arthur asked, seeing him coughing and crying. He felt something malevolent. He felt his neck as if it were being constricted. The Connection being put into play. Arthur told Alfred to search the area so that he may attempt to calm a shaken Francis.

"C-Curtain...neck...t-tried to choke...my god..."

He embraces Francis, shaking his head. "Don't speak. Just try to calm yourself... You need not explain it... I should have been up here with you."

"It's not your... fault. I got myself out of it."

"And if you couldn't? You would be dead and it would be my fault! I would not be able to live with the fact that I could have saved you yet failed to do so!"

All Francis could do, is look at Arthur.

He... He is in love...

And I think...

No. I know I am.

"I will protect you, Francis. You mean much more than you think to me."

"I will protect you too, Arthur," Francis started. "Because I want to reflect those feelings to you."

A gasp. "Francis... You..."

*He was unable to finish as Alfred walked in. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His glasses were off, which was rare in nature, and also confirmed the thought: something is not right. Francis and Arthur pulled away from one another and looked at the American, waiting for his response to whatever he may have saw. Alfred shook, his tone shaken. "We have a problem. A big one." Alfred held a bag within his hands and dropped the contents on the floor. True fear made it's way into the three. Alfred winced. It was dolls, of them, and a fourth, with needles where needles should not be. One doll had two needles running through the eyes. Arthur's. A needle through the head. Alfred's. A needle through the heart. Francis'. The fourth, a veiled doll with a needle through the mouth.

"When I find the blasted bastard that did this..." Arthur began, his eyes going to the fourth doll. He turned to Francis. "Is it..."

"The fourth is Matthieu!" He cried. "Why him, why him?!" He shook his head, more horrified of his son's doll than the rest.

"Matthew is..." Arthur started.

"The Child of Frost..." Alfred finished.

Francis had to believe them.

And now, for the grand finale... The dark one puts his hand out, delightfully, outside the home of Francis. The dolls glowed, and where the needles were, the four, the dark one knew, would never stand a chance. A wicked grin. The dark one watched the sight unfold.

Alfred was the first to scream. He collapsed, clutching his head. Soon going silent.

Francis touched his chest, crying out. It seemed painless, but Francis gasped, collapsed, and fell silent.

At the hotel he was staying at, the newfound Child of Frost coughed up blood, saw his body fading, and collapsed, already silent.

"I won't let it end... Like this... By God!" Arthur hissed, feeling his eyes go black. He felt near collapse. He wanted to scream, but could not- did not, for that would give the bastard who did this the pleasure of hearing that. However, even for a man like Arthur, strength is not absolute and Arthur fell into a makeshift shelf within the living room, and fell silent. On that shelf, a bowl of salt fell down and engulfed the dolls in it's healing and purification properties.

The dark one, to which lingured to relish in the chaos, clenched his teeth in anger, and faded. Well, at least the four would still be in a comatose state for the next two hours Regular salt took long to work, anyway.

Two hours later, at the hotel of Matthew.

A burning sensation felt under his hand awoke Matthew. What he remembered is that his mouth pooled with blood, and his entire body felt as if it were not there. Transparent. He remembered collapsing, and that was all. He stood, picking up his Book. He wondered why nothing was hurting him now. He put his finger in his mouth, to see for blood. Nothing. He looked on the floor to see any trace. Nothing. He felt completely fine. Another burning sensation snapped him back to reality abd he opened the book, now cold in feeling.

Go forth to the Child of Water's home!

Matthew gasped, knowing who's home immediately he should be going to. Book in hand, he ran out of the hotel, much to the confusion of people who so happened to be passing by. When he reached outside, he noticed no one was there, no faculty, no one. He stopped in his tracts. A dark form appears in front of him. The form did not even look like that of a person. It looked ready to maul at him. He looked afraid, as if the world stopped right there and this dark form and he were the only ones moving. This dark form is preventing him from getting where he needs to be, he concluded. Matthew would not let that happen. He vowed to protect his father. He vowed to protect Francis.

The form lunged and Matthew dodged, his fighting on par and parallel to Francis'. He didn't want to stick around, however, so he ran- or tried to. He did not know how to fight such an dark form like this. He came across a barrier, which made him gasp, turning around only to see the dark form lunge at him again, this time hitting him, making him fall to his knees. This should have made him fearful, but it did not. If anything, it made him livid. He would not, and could not lose to this thing. He took that anger and formed it into magic. The atmosphere turned cold around him. The dark form seemed to have responded to this as well. This cold formed frost around the barrier confining them and he looked around, smirking. So much like Francis.

"Break," He spoke, with strong emotion. And the barrier broke, and the dark form disappeared. And then, Matthew ran.

That wretched child is just like the father. Get rid of him.

"I will," the nation controlled, rose, eyes blank, dark hue around him, spoke in monotone.

"Pére, what is the matter? Who has upset you?"

France turned to his son whom was tugging on his shirt ever so carefully. He touches his heart. France was hurting. England would soon come to take little Matthieu away. New France was done. Lost because France was fighting two fronts.

"Matthieu, Matthieu," He bends down, lightly touching his shoulder. "I... I can no longer take care of you... anymore. I have told you of the things nations must go through, yes?"

"Oui... you have..." Matthieu wimpered. What was his father saying?

"You see, papa lost a fight to someone. He... He was very cruel to me and since I have lost, he has to take you away from me. You have to learn his language in full... and possibly forget about everything related to me." Little Matthieu cried. France's heart shattered.

"Non, Pére! I want to stay with you! I'll never forget you!"

"Matthieu... Promise me this. Within your heart... keep a special place just for me. Even if you forget everything I've shared with you, even our language... just remember me, okay? Remember I've taken care of you first, and I will always love you."

France knew Matthieu understood when the little boy nodded and hugged him.

"I'll always love you, Pére! I won't let anyone replace you!"

England came, and took little Matthieu away. France looked at him with hate.

As small as that boy was, he never, not for one second, forgot France.

Francis awoke. He clutched his heart and allowed himself to cry, because of that memory dressed as a dream. He looked around to see Arthur and Alfred collapsed on the floor. He gasped, remembering how they have been to be in this position. He tried desperately to awaken them, but not either one of them moved. This couldn't be happening. It can't be. Francis sobbed, his hands holding Arthur and Alfred's hands. He closed his eyes, and wished that he coud heal them. He felt something- like he could diminish the rest of this cruel curse. He needed no spell, nor his Book, nor anyone else. He needed his heart and the thing he emitted so much. His love. A white, glowing light surrounded him, and soon surrounded Arthur and Alfred.

It is my turn to protect you. Both of you. I love you both.

Francis opened his eyes. Their eyes opened in unison. At that same time, Matthew bursed in the door. All looked at him.

"M-Matthieu...? You are here... because...?"

"I believe you know, Francis. Preferably, Child of Water."

"Then I was right. Le Enfant de Glace."

"Oui," he responds, checking his surroundings.

"SO. I don't know about all of you, but I want like just one fucking explanation as to what happened. Anyone?" All got up and moved to the couch.

"For starters, Francis healed us. As I fell, salt got on the dolls, which reversed the curse," Arthur begins, materializing cups of tea for everyone. "You can... consider us Witches."

"With talking Books!" Alfred chimed in, only to be jabbed in the side by Arthur. "Gah! Spiritual Ambassadors. Yeah."

"And somehow, we're in danger," Francis finishes.

Matthew sighed. "The lot of you aren't making any sense."

Arthur cleared his throat and began to explain it the proper way.

"You are one of us, a Witch. Commonly Warlock was used to describe a male Witch, but that is not the case as it describes, in actuality, a traitor Witch to the coven. Each of us have a Book, which I assume you have. It forms text because your Spiritual Ambassador lives in this book, to guide you. When the clock strikes 12, it changes to a regular book of spells suited to your element, with occasional words from your Guide. One of which, told you to come here, correct?"

"Yes." He was certainly taking this well. "I'm the Child of Frost, so what are you three?"

"Fire," Alfred says.

"Lightning," Arthur continues.

"Water," Francis concluded., then hissed. His Book held a burning sensation, making him open it and read the words.

On Hallows Eve a destiny came of you three being together,

However destiny can change and a fouth has been added.

Never forget the spell you have done to look into your special abilities.

Go forth to the Child of Frost, say...

Francis did not have to read more. He motioned Matthew to kneel, and flowing, flawless French came out of his mouth- another rite to give Matthew his special ability. Said Matthew felt a small ting, as if something was there, yet not quite complete. He stood, and did not ask. He knew time would tell. However, Francis' words of being in danger came back to his mind, to question him.

"This... danger...?"

"We believe that someone very close to us is against us. My Book said this person is being controlled by a Dark One. We're also avoiding Ludwig in the process. You saw, didn't you?"

"Oh. I did," Matthew sneered, teeth grit.

"So... What do we do, Arthur?" A frustrated tone in Alfred's voice.

"We are to find this person who's being controlled or whatever. Purify them. Drive out the Dark Entity, and then destroy it to pieces." Arthur rolled his eyes. So damn clichéd. He wanted this to be over and done with so all four of them could be at peace. It seemed fleeting. He would have kept thinking more until Matthew interuppted everyone's thoughts.

"It seems we're a family once more," he smiles. He sits next to Alfred. "Even through the things we're going through now- we're here, protecting each other."

"Exactement." Francis sat Arthur down next to Alfred and Matthew, going over their forms to see if there was any present damage or linguring of that doll curse. When he felt satisfied, he sat. "We are always somehow together. Let us stay like that."

"I am in agreement. Let's clean this mess up, then I want to do something. I want to go back to the meeting room. Something is up."

"Let's raise Hell," Alfred smirks.

*6:00 PM, the deserted meeting hall.

Granted there was security at the meeting place, however, it was- or could be sumarized as deserted. All the four had to do is fabricate that they left items here and entry was theirs. The lights were dim, making it seem creepier than it already was. Alfred would be lying if he said he was okay. Arthur approached the meeting room, unlocking the doors. Francis' heart began to race. When all entered, he looked around.

"I feel uneasy." Matthew's eyes, filled with caution, was looking at every inch of the room rapidly.

The door slams. Francis gasps. Arthur turned around at an inhuman speed. Matthew flinched. Alfred rolled his eyes. "Oh what now?"

"Be on your guard." Arthur orders.

Fools. A voice, thunderous in nature sounded through the room.

"Who are you?!" Francis growled, at his end with this nonsense.

You four shall fall. Tonight.

Dark Entities rose around them and surrounded them. Deformed, gore to the eyes, like the first zombie like dog that they fought. Spirits corrupted, never being put to proper rest and allowed to move on. All of this, all of his knowledge of spirits, knowing this, angered Arthur.

"You would play with the dead?! Torture souls that do not deserve to be tortured?! What kind of sick person are you?!"

They are pawns in my game. My game to destroy you all. And so is one of your kind.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Quit while you're ahead and I won't roast you to kingdom come!"

Cocky as ever, Cursed Child of Fire. Well, then, let us see if you still hold this cockiness after THIS!

The door to the room burst open again. In a flash of dark smoke, a figure approached. All eyes were in disbelief. The dark entities cleared a path for the figure as if the figure were their king. His eyes were white. A black hue. Unrecognizable. It is only Francis who could dare to speak.

"...Ludwig... Have you gone mad?"

Chapter three, end.

A/N: Thanks for reading and constructive criticism/reviews are greatly appreciated! Stay tuned!

Some French word translations, please correct me if I am wrong and it will be changed.

Je suis parfait: I am perfect.

Le Enfant de Glace: The Child of Ice

Exactement: Exactly