Dro: Hey, it's mindfuckery time!

Chapter Summary: England comes face to face with something from his nightmares. Meanwhile, Romano has a little accident with magic powers that has some interesting results.

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: Dro will never own APH.


Arthur cracked an eye open. God, was he sore. He tugged at his arms, finding them both locked in place. Still. Same for his legs. He sighed. When were these people planning on letting him down? He glanced at his bindings, his arms ringed in a dim purple glow. They'd stuck him to the wall with some kind of magic. He let himself go limp in the bindings. It was useless to struggle.

These people apparently overestimated his magic abilities. They seemed to think that he whisper a few words, wave his hands, and send them all back where they came from. Sure, if he had enough to time to whip up a counter spell, prepare a new magic circle, and actually say the damn thing before the man with the scythe lobbed his head off. Like that was going to happen.

He groaned, the guard standing next to his cell shooting him a glare. He rolled his eyes. He'd wondered at first why they hadn't just killed him, but he'd heard them talking amongst themselves enough to know that they thought Arthur might be the magic link keeping them in this world. They feared that if they killed them, the spell might well reverse itself and send them bounding back where they came from.

More than once, Arthur had considered trying to off himself, but short of biting his own tongue off, he had no way to manage that either. And he wasn't biting his own tongue off. He supposed he should at least be happy they were actually bothering to feed him. If he could keep his strength up, maybe he could orchestrate some kind of escape. He tugged as his magic bindings again. Then again, maybe not.

Arthur had spent his few weeks of captivity thinking about those down below. He wondered how many of his friends were injured or worse. He'd seen the scythe man—Lucaster—listening to the one called Drovich bragging about they'd managed to kill two of the nations so far. He'd spent days wondering who'd they killed, days fearing it was Alfred and Matthew or hell, even Francis. Then, that terrifying girl named Siphone had started hanging out around his cell, trying to strike up chats with him. She'd been the one to tell him: Germany and Finland were dead.

Despite the fact that he was terrified of her, especially so since the two men seemed wary around her, he found himself anticipating her chats. She was his only link to what was happening in the outside world. And he wanted to know. He couldn't stand being ignorant to the plight of all his friends, to the plight of his people, who were being bombed and slaughtered in the streets. When he managed to get out here, he vowed to kill these bastards. If he got out of here.

The sound of footsteps brought him out of his daze. Was that Siphone coming? He listened, realizing there was more than one person. He slumped. The other two bastards refused to even give him the time of day. They approached, and Arthur realized it was actually all three of them. The guard at the cell straightened up as they drew closer.

Siphone broke from the line and skipped up to his cage. "How's it going today, Artie?" She drew out the name and giggled.

Arthur was a little confused. "Same as usual. I'm still pinned to the wall."

She pouted. "True that. But not for long! The boss has decided to see you!"

Arthur felt his mouth go dry. He'd heard Siphone speak of the "boss" before. Apparently, the three of them and their boss were the only nations aboard any of the ships. The others were all manned by regular people, people gathered from several different worlds to create an army fit to take over others. And apparently, their "boss" was the one who had started this entire crusade. He'd come from his own world with his own army and picked up other nations willing to join his quest. This was the fifth world they'd hit according to Siphone. She'd told him happily that none of the nations in the last world they'd visited had been willing to join, so she'd gotten to "play with them until they couldn't anymore!" Arthur shuddered.

The three of them had the guard open the door, and they filed in. Lucaster walked up to the glowing violet circle that surrounded his bindings and traced his fingers over something, whispering. Arthur felt himself falling, but his sore limbs couldn't react in time. He fell face first onto the floor, striking his head on the stone.

"Ow…"

Drovich snorted. Arthur rolled over and glared at him, suddenly noticing his heavily bruised up face. "You're one to talk." He retorted.

Drovich's grinned dropped. "Why you…" He went for his sword, but Lucaster nudged with his elbow.

"Keep it together, you idiot."

Drovich huffed and crossed his arms. Lucaster peered down at him. "Do I need to tie you up?"

Arthur groaned, annoyed. "We're on a fucking airship thousands of feet off the ground, I'm unarmed, and you have a bloody giant scythe!"

Lucaster shrugged. "True."

"Come on, Artie! Get up!" Siphone grabbed him by the arms and heaved him off the ground with unprecedented strength. He wobbled as he tried to stand, Siphone almost throwing him several feet without trying. God, she's as strong as Alfred. Lucaster pushed him along, leading him out of the cell and down the hallway. They went up a flight of stairs, Arthur's stiff legs protesting every step.

He gasped as bright light assaulted him. He'd been the dark for weeks now. He looked to left, realizing the light was coming from the massive windows that lined one side of the hallway. They overlooked a now destroyed city, still smoking, thousands of feet below them. He cringed. Did these people like watching destruction unfold beneath them? They led him along a wide, ornately designed hallway to a simple wooden door. Drovich walked up and turned the knob, pulling the door open without so much as a squeak.

Siphone and Lucaster pushed him forward past the doorway, which Drovich promptly closed behind him, leaving him alone. Well, alone except for the man in the chair. The chair was turned away from him, facing the same wall-sized windows that he'd passed in the hallway. The only thing he could see was the man's hand on the hand rest, a single finger tapping silently. Arthur took two hesitant steps toward the man's desk, unsure of what he was about to see.

A low chuckle sounded out from the chair, and Arthur jumped. The chair wheeled around, coming to a stop so that Arthur could get a direct look at the man. His stomach dropped out from under him. Disbelief hit him like a speeding train, sending him reeling backward several feet until he fell into the door. His heart pounded in chest, shaky breaths emanating from his throat.

This was impossible. Completely impossible.

It couldn't be. There was no way. This wasn't happening to him!

This man was…

This man was…

Himself.


Lovino concentrated on the crate. He'd been working on bigger and bigger objects the past few days, but now he was starting to have a problem. Whenever he would use the power for more than a few minutes, a sudden surge of it would run through him and disrupt the flow, causing him to lose his hold on whatever he working on. It was irritating, and he couldn't figure out why it was happening. He wondered, not for the first time, if this meant he was getting more powerful or if it meant something bad was about to happen to him.

He thought of stopping several times, but his body would start itching to use the power again. It was always running through his veins now, a dull thrum zipping his through his bones like electricity. He could feel it there even when he wasn't using it. He shook his head and concentrated harder, feeling the tug on his power as the crated lifted from the ground. He spun it around in the air, keeping it steady. It moved fluidly at his command, floating slowly across the empty parking lot.

He'd had to be really careful when practicing. He didn't want a repeat of the gun incident. He made sure that the place where he was working would be empty for extended periods of time. This parking lot next to a loading dock was rarely used. He breathed out cool air, flicking his gaze up at the clear sky. He'd been lucky to get out of the base at all. After incident with America's stupid plan, the nations had been on lockdown. Their bosses had warned them to behave, and everyone was taking it seriously.

Luckily, he'd managed to slip out unnoticed. He preferred practicing at night. There were less people out and about to discover him. He walked around the parking lot, watching as the crate followed his commands. He'd also gotten much better at controlling things with just his mind, no hands included. Although it was easier and faster to use his hands. But if he could use weapons in his hands and simultaneously fight using telekinesis then he'd be a force to reckon with.

Just as he was about to set the crate down, another surge shot through him. This time, it was different. Pain. He cried out, falling to the ground, the crate landing with a massive boom. Purple sparks dance off his body, his muscles going wild. He couldn't get up. Damn it! His lungs refused to work. He struggled to breathe, his vision dancing with white spots. His body felt like it was on fire. He screamed. The pressure was pushing on him from the inside out, and he felt like his entire body would explode any second. He knew what it was now. No doubt.

Too much.

He had too much of it.

That was why the other nations used crystals to contain it. Because the body could only hold so much without…a blast of shot out from him in a shockwave, cracking the concrete around him.

A door slammed open, and he heard steps rapidly approaching. He tried to scream for whoever it was to stop. He was afraid he'd hurt someone. Why did I do this? This was a stupid idea!

"Lovino!" Feliciano's voice filled his ears, penetrating past the sharp ringing.

"Feli…Feliciano…run! Can't hold it!" His body convulsed again, and he cried out.

"Can't hold what? What's going on?"

"P—power! Stole it…stole it…from them. Can't…too much!" Purple sparks flew again, and Feliciano staggered backward, realizing exactly what was going on. He didn't know how Lovino had gotten a hold of it. He didn't know what his fratello had been doing with it. But he knew it was killing him.

He grabbed Lovino by the hands and pulled his agonized brother to his knees, looking him straight in his violet-ringed eyes. "Give it to me."

"What?" Lovino's lips twitched. What had his fratello just said?

"Give me the power, Lovino! Now!" He pleaded with his fratello.

"No…I can't…not you…"

"Give it to me!" He gripped his brother's hands. Hard.

Lovino cried out, the power building up reaching all new heights. He couldn't hurt Feliciano this way. He couldn't…but…but…but…He grabbed his brother's hands back, willing the power to shift out of his body. Immediately, the connection was made, and Feliciano gasped as the sparks danced across his skin. He could feel the power flowing his brother's veins, now flowing through his as well. He met Lovino's teary green eyes and smiled reassuringly, completely unsure about this power would affect him. A bubble of energy formed between them, and Feliciano could feel it rippling through his very core.

Fratello…you'll be all right. I promise. He wanted to say it, but the energy had engulfed him.

I don't want to hurt you, Feliciano…

L—Lovino?

Lovino seemed to realize they hadn't actually spoken out loud. Their eyes were glued on each other's, wide and disbelieving.

We're talking…in our minds.

Yeah…Feliciano gripped his brother's hands harder, the pain between them dissipating. His brother's body began to relax, the massive bubble of energy split evenly between them. Feliciano released in a deep breath, relieved.

"What the hell is going on?"

The moment their eyes left each other to see the intruder, the bubble collapsed, their concentration broken. An immense force exploded between them, flinging them in opposite directions across the parking lot. Feliciano slammed into the wall of the building, landing in a heap. Lovino hit the ground, skidding across the rough ground before rolling to a stop. Neither brother got up.

Gilbert stared in disbelief, his eyes flicking from one unconscious brother to the other. What had just happened? Were they okay? Who did check first? Feli? Lovi? His body couldn't decide to run. He—

"What happened?"

Gilbert turned, realizing Alfred had appeared behind him. "Go check Feli." He ordered. His legs finally moved, taking him in Lovino's direction. Alfred stood there motionless and confused for a few moments before responding. He rushed over to Feliciano and knelt down beside him. He turned the boy over, the impact having left a forming bruise on his left cheek. Alfred checked his vitals, thankful that he was still breathing. He cradled Feliciano in his arms, shaking him gently to rouse him.

Warm brown eyes flittered open, confusion filling them. Feliciano groaned, unsure of what had just happened. His eyes shifted to the right, landing on America's worried face hovering over him. Realizing he was awake, Alfred lifted up into a sitting position, steadying him as he swayed.

"You okay? You scared to me to death!" A dry chuckle left America's lips. "What the hell happened?"

"I…um…magic…" Feliciano didn't know what kind of explanation he should come up with.

"Huh? Magic?" Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "You sure you didn't hit your head too hard?"

"No…Lovino was using…he had the same magic that they use. But it was killing him, I think…I tried to take it from him." Suddenly realizing, he looked over Alfred's shoulder to where Gilbert was cradling a still limp Lovino. "Lovino!" He rose suddenly, his legs unsteady, and he nearly fell over. He was stopped by Alfred's chest, the man's had wrapping around his waist and holding him up. He glanced at Alfred's face, a blush making its way across his cheeks.

Alfred coughed, trying to brush off the intense gaze from Feliciano's eyes. "I'm sure he's fine. But don't push yourself, okay?" Feliciano finally broke eye contact, and Alfred helped him walk over to where Gilbert and Lovino were.

Gilbert shook Lovino by the shoulder, his thumb rubbing the boy's face. "Wake up, kid. Please." At his command, Lovino's green eyes cracked open, instantly meeting Gilbert's worried red one. He realized Gilbert's hand was on his face, caressing his cheek. Embarrassment shot through him, and he pushed Gilbert away.

"What're you doing?" He turned his heated face away.

"I…uh…" What had he been doing? Gilbert wasn't sure he wanted to answer that question.

"Is everyone okay?"

The two of them looked up to see Alfred supporting a startled-looking Feliciano. Lovino nodded, the power having receded within him. He could still feel it inside him, but something about it had changed.

Gilbert frowned. "Good. Well, now that we're sure no one's dead, how about you two explain what the fuck you were doing?"

Lovino met his fratello's eyes, eyes that were just as questioning as America's and Gilbert's. This was going to be a long, complicated discussion.


Dro: Bet'cha weren't expecting that one!

Next Chapter: I'm going to torment you by not putting England in it. Instead, you get to read two rather fluffy relationship development moments that form from the latter half of this chapter. Then we get back to England in Chapter 11 and find out exactly what the hell is going on.