The Game
Three

6:01 PM, Eastern European Time

No less than ten minutes ago Prussia, Austria, and Hungary had been led to a plush, well-lit sitting room where a dainty silver serving cart sporting a pot of steaming hot tea and a wide variety of desserts had been placed before a velvet couch. Belarus had led them there all pleasant smiles and small talk and "Please, help yourselves."- a completely different person than when they'd first seen her earlier in the evening.

Prussia couldn't help but snort. This was Belarus's great idea for killing them off- a fucking tea party?

"Maybe she thinks we'll maim each other with the cutlery?" he said aloud as he picked up a little dessert fork and appraised it, as if he really were giving that thought serious consideration. (Which really wasn't too far from the truth. He imagined that it might sting Hungary a bit if he tried to stab her hand with it. Sure she'd beat him for that, but she'd be the one to need a tetanus shot, not him.)

"This is really stupid," he said with a dramatic sigh and unceremoniously threw himself on the couch, not a single thought for manners as he helped himself to a handful of sweets. Austria soon followed suite and couldn't help but eye the little cakes sitting in plain sight, begging to be eaten.

Hungary shook her head. "Belarus is certainly acting stranger than usual," she said. "I don't think she realizes quite what she's doing. I'll have a talk with her when she comes back; she really ought to know better than behave this way," she said off-handedly as she poured Austria a cup of tea. Hungary was sure that some woman-to-woman talk was all the girl needed. And if that didn't work, well, there were always those photos of Russia she had taken at the last World Conference in Japan when she'd accidentally stumbled upon the men's part of the hot spring. And of course if all else failed she could simply beat the shit out of her...

Austria graciously accepted it and after a moment snatched up two cakes as well. "I'm sure she's just trying to give us all a fright," he agreed.

Hungary nodded and began to serve herself, noticing that there was only one cup left. She shrugged. "You're just going to have to do without tea, Prussia," she told him. Prussia shrugged; he could honestly care less. Hungary took a seat next to her boyfriend, causing the other two men to scoot down on the couch to make room for her.

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, each enjoying there refreshments, until Prussia couldn't take the silence any more.

"You must be getting fat, Hungary," Prussia said with a grin. "I feel a little crowded."

"I'm not the one with food dribbling out of my-" Hungary stopped talking, mid-comeback, when she noticed something sitting atop a table she swore hadn't been there a minute ago. "What's that?" she asked, gazing just past Prussia.

Austria frowned and placed his tea cup and plate, both empty, back on the cart. "What is it?" he asked.

She pointed to the table on the other side of Prussia. "There's a letter," she said.

Prussia turned to look and found that a small white envelope marked "Read Me" in beautiful cursive sat there propped up against two small vials. He snatched the letter up and saw that both bottles were labeled as well. They read, in the same delicate handwriting, "Drink Me".

He quirked a brow and, taking a knife from the cart, opened the envelope and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. He began it to himself, wanting to be the first to know what it said:

"I do tire of chess and charades, don't you? I thought you all might enjoy a different sort of parlor game. But don't worry, it's not difficult to play.

As I'm sure you've already noticed, I have set out a bottle labeled "Drink Me". Do be careful with it as it contains the antidote I'm sure you'll need. I've heard that the poison I've laced the tea with can have quite the nasty effect. It's just such a pity that I only have enough antidote for one.

I wonder, Prussia, who are you going to let die?"

Prussia, never one to show such a stupid emotion as worry or fear, seemed to turn paler than usual. Slowly he brought his gaze up to look at the curious faces of Austria and Hungary.

"What does it say?" Hungary asked impatiently.

For once, Prussia couldn't quite find his voice.

7:43 PM, Eastern European Time

America pushed against the taller nation's chest, not liking where their conversation was going. "Excuse me?" he asked, frowning. That was a dangerous joke to be making- telling him to "become one with Russia". What the fuck was Russia going on about? He thought they'd gotten past this annoying urge he had to collect nations like a small child would rocks and buttons.

Of course he knew that Russia was still interested in some of the former Soviet states- Russia made no move to be secretive about that- but America had thought that he was getting better. He'd thought that the older nation was slowly starting to see the world the way America did, at least in some ways.

"Da, you must agree to become one with Russia, it is only fair. Do not worry, I will take good care of you." Russia giggled and placed a little kiss that could be mistaken for a loving gesture at the tip of his nose. America felt it for what it was though: a false display of affection to conceal the disgusting fact that Russia had not changed at all.

He wasn't going to delude himself. He hadn't expected Russia to help him just because he had asked, just because they slept together. He wasn't dumb enough to think that Russia's feelings for him were any stronger than that of a friend- his certainly weren't.

But he had thought that the Russian had more respect for him than that. Had more respect for the world than that.

After everything they'd been through- Stalin, all the tension and the threat of another war, all their disagreements... America thought that Russia had actually started to come around, especially after everything with Iran.

And, and dammit he wasn't communist anymore! Didn't he know that that had meant something to America? That hehad actually started to respect Russia again? (That was a lie. He'd never stopped.)

Had it all just been a ploy to lure him into a false sense of security?

America tried to punch him. "Is that the only reason you-" Russia caught his wrist like it was nothing.

"Opportunity cost, my dear America," the Russian growled. "I believe that is one of a capitalist's favorite things. I am correct, da?" A fake smile. "If you will not simply leave with me, and I am to turn down Natalia's-" A poorly concealed shudder. "-generous gift, then it is only fair that you… make it up to me." He drew his arms around the American's waist and slipped his hands into his back pockets, giving his ass an appreciative squeeze. "What do you say, America?" he asked, leering. "We will be quite the force to be reckoned with."

For one horrifying moment America almost said yes. Not because he was weak or because he feared the older, taller nation, nor because he saw no other way out.

No. America almost agreed because behind those words had been the alluring promise of wealth and power. "We will be quite the force to be reckoned with."

That phrase couldn't be any truer. Russia's economy was surely doing better than his own, and with Russia on his side he would have nothing to fear from Belarus. But China didn't have to know that. He could force the other nation to pardon his debts and he'd be strong again. No, stronger. And then-

America had begun to sweat. "No," he said quietly. "No I won't. I'm not like that."

He looked up at Russia, eyes only half focused. After a moment his mind cleared and he frowned. "Get out," he said, finally remembering himself and finding his strength. He pushed the Russian off with ease. "Get out," he repeated, voice growing strong.

"America," Russia said. It was obvious by his tone that he was not in the mood to take no for an answer. But before he could say anything more they heard the sound of delicate foot steps outside. Russia paled and tried to shrink into his scarf. "America, please!" he begged, backing towards the window. "Just come with me," he hissed. "I will talk to Belarus later," he said.

America scoffed. The other nations might not think he was the smartest, but he knew a lie when he heard one.

He shook his head no. "I'm not leaving," he said.

Russia growled and leapt out the window, his urge to not be caught by his sister greater than his desire to have America leave with him. "You're a reckless fool," he said, disappearing into the darkness.

America shut the window with more force than necessary. "And you're a selfish coward," he whispered harshly. He should have known better. He should have- he shrugged, trying not to frown. Whatever. It's not as if it really mattered anyways. He didn't need Russia's help. And he supposed it was a blessing in disguise that he'd seen Russia for who and what he really was sooner rather than later.

He supposed that... England had been right. (Why did it seem like he was always, always right?)

He turned around to face the door, knowing Belarus would be coming in any second. But the footsteps passed the door and continued down the hallway, disappearing after a few moments.

America took a deep breath and collapsed into a chair.

On the television, Japan and China had yet to move and America sat quietly, gripping his knuckles till they turned white, wondering where everyone else was. The memory of Belarus's voice came back to haunt him.

"Tick tock, little Alfred, tick tock..."

6:39 PM, Eastern European Time

Canada held his breath and tried not to give a startled gasp as he steeled himself for the feel of a pointed knife he was sure would be pressed to his neck at any moment. Instead, he was met with something rather soft against his back. Something rather soft and large and-

He gave a little squeak and spun around, coming face to face with a very distraught Ukraine. Canada opened his mouth to speak but she quickly pressed her index finger to his lips, shaking her head no.

"You mustn't be too loud, Canada! Sister does not know that I am here."

Canada nodded. "Thank God you're here!" he whispered with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "Belarus's gone crazy, eh? She's trying to kill us all!"

Ukraine gave a worried smile and patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't fret, little Matvey," she said. "Vanya will be here soon, we spoke on the phone not to long ago."

Canada raised a brow. "No offense or anything, but why would Russia care if a bunch of nations were killed? More land for him, eh?"

Ukraine frowned and tried her best to not cry. "Oh, Vanya would never let that happen! He's trying so hard these days, and you know he would never do anything to upset America."

Canada looked at her skeptically. "Right."

Ukraine couldn't help it; her eyes watered up. "Matvey! How can you say such a thing when you know how long our brothers have been together!"

Canada's eyes widened. "How long they've...?" Is that why America had been so insistent on them trusting the Russian?

Ukraine stopped crying, a wistful expression slowly creeping onto her face. She gave a happy sigh and giggled. "Oh Canada, you remember. All the fighting, the jealousy, the suspicion. It was all a cover up." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "They've probably been in love with each other since the 1800s, come to think of it..."

Canada just stared at her. "Right," he said again. Their brothers sleeping together? He could see it; it wouldn't be the first time any of their kind had had a fling with an enemy. But love? That was more France's and Spain's forte. America... America didn't do love. America didn't have time for love.

Once he and Canada had been watching an American film together. He couldn't quite recall the title, but he had been sure it had been a 1990s Tom Hanks romance-comedy type. Canada had glanced at his brother to make a comment, only to see him smiling quietly to himself and mouthing the words along with the actors.

"Do you think that's what love is like?" Canada had asked the other nation.

America had responded by tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "This is just entertainment, Mattie," he'd said as he chewed. "This sort of thing doesn't happen. People don't stay together forever, anyways." He'd taken a few hearty gulps of his soda. "Besides, how boring would that be?"

"They're just not very good at communicating with each other," she clarified, drawing the younger country out of his thoughts.

"I think you're mistaken," he said, not unkindly. "America isn't that type. Decades of threats and disagreements and almost going to war, oh, every other day... Yeah. I'd say they're actually pretty good at communicating with each other. About how much they hate each other."

Ukraine's lower lip began to tremble again and Canada instantly regretted upsetting her. In an awkward attempt at giving comfort, he placed a hand at her back and began to rub it in small circles. "I'm sorry," he said, looking anywhere but at her and trying his hardest to not stutter. "I didn't mean to upset you." It was just that suggesting that their brothers were anything more than occasion bed mates while they were all attempting to not get killed by her little sister was a bit much.

"They are in lo-"

"Ukraine?" A voice called from the doorway. "Sister, is that you?"

It was Canada's turn to clamp a hand over Ukraine's mouth. They both held their breath, praying that Belarus would not come in.

Thankfully, she didn't.

"I suppose she must still be in her room," Belarus said aloud to herself. "I shall go check..." She shut the door behind her and left just as silently as she had come.

"I thought you said she didn't know you were here?" Canada wailed.

"Oh, well," Ukraine looked at him sheepishly. "Oops?"

Somewhere along the Belarusian/Latvian Boarder
6:54 PM, Eastern European Time

Kumajirou wasn't sure how long he'd been walking and in all honesty, he was getting really sleepy and hungry. And the heavy winds and snow that had set in weren't helping one bit. He put the note that his pet (What was his name again?) had given him down on the ground and sat, giving his surroundings a look-around.

To his left... Birch trees and snow. To his right... More Birch trees and snow. Up ahead... A river? Maybe he could catch a fish. He began to pad his way over towards the water and peered in.

He gave a pout; it was practically frozen. It would be easier to find a human and get food from them anyways, and so he set off walking north along the river.

Unfortunately, even after nearly half an hour of walking Kumajirou had yet to come across any signs of civilization. Just how far had he walked? He looked to the sky to get his bearings; he couldn't be too far from Latvia by now, could he?

He should probably look at the address again to see where he wa- Shit.

He'd forgotten to pick it up again before he'd set off. Kumajirou looked behind him and frowned. The wind had gotten even worse, there was no way he'd be able to-

"Gotcha!"

Something small grabbed him from behind and wrapped its arms around his neck in a vice-like grip, the force of the sudden contact sending them both to the ground in a sprawling mess.

Kumajirou growled ad pawed at his back, trying to get the bothersome creature off of him. He stood up on all fours and began to shake himself. "Let go," he grumbled. "Get off."

The annoying thing let go of him with a mildly surprised "Oh!" when he heard him speak and let go. "You're what's-his-face's bear, aren't you?" he asked.

Kumajirou blinked at him in mild annoyance. "Who?" he asked gruffly, not in the mood to be dealing with small children.

The boy puffed his cheeks out and furrowed his thick brows. "What do you mean who?" he asked indignantly. "I'm Sealand!"

Kumajirou just gave him a blank look.

There was a particularly nasty gust of wind and Sealand wrapped his arms around himself, his thick coat still not enough to keep the bitter cold out. His teetch began to chatter and the look he gave Kumajirou after that was particularly less venomous. "A-anyways," he continued. "I was on my way to see L-Latvia and I thought you were following me..."

Kumajirou perked up when he heard the boy mention Latvia's name.

"Latvia?" he asked.

Sealand nodded. Kumajirou looked back in the direction he had come.

"Latvia is in Belarus with many others," he said. "Someone sent me to get help."

Sealand, though his cheeks were red from the cold, seemed to pale. "B-Belarus?" he asked.

Kumajirou nodded. "She wants to do bad things. I need to get help," he said simply.

Suddenly Sealand nodded, as if he had made some earth-shattering decision in his mind. "I'll help!" he shouted, face the perfect example of determination.

Kumajirou gave him a once-over, seemed to consider it, then nodded. "Alright," he said.

Sealand punched his fist in the air and gave a shout, momentarily forgetting that he had been freezing a few moments ago. "Once I save them, they'll have to recognize me as a nation!" he exclaimed.

8:05 PM, Eastern European Time

America was sure he'd been sitting in that chair, staring at nothing, for the past hour. He had what- He glanced at his wristwatch- twenty-two hours to go? What the fuck was he going to do? He couldn't just sit there all night. He sighed and put his head back, shifting a bit and-

What was in his back pocket?

Frowning, he sat forward and reached into his pocket and pulled out... A key.

America raised a brow. How long had that been there?

He brought it up to his face to examine it; it was way too old and intricate to be any of his keys... It certainly wasn't the key to his townhouse or his Ford, that was for sure. It seemed more like it was fit for a treasure chest or an old house...

A piece of paper that had been wrapped around the stem of the key began to unravel. America pulled it all the way off and read: "Just in case I couldn't convince you- R."

Wide-eyed, America looked towards the entrance to the room. Sure enough, there was a key hole on the inside of the door.

America shook his head but couldn't help but smile.

"You better have a plan, Russia," he whispered to himself as he stood up to leave. "Cause for once, I sure as hell don't."

A/N: I can safely say that no, Sealand is not who Canada had in mind. Sorry for the wait. School is finally out but I got a new job and it's a bit more time consuming. Oh, who a I kidding. I typed up half of this on the clock. XD

Translations:

None, I don't think. :)

Historical notes that will never help you in class: Obvious use of the guilt Germany felt about the Holocaust is obvious. November 28th of 1943- The Tehran Conference, a meeting between Churchie, FDR, and Stalin. FDR said some nice things to/about Stalin. I took this and ran with it haha~