"Poland, Feliciano, and Romano. You are sure, England? Please, tell me you are joking." France's face is pale. He grips the tabletop with all the strength he has, and the wood begins to crack. England sits in a chair, bandages wrapped around his wounds, and nods. France curses Germany using every word he knows, as tears roll down his cheeks. He is speaking French, but England hears Feliciano's name more than once. And he hears something else.
"Je vais la tuer."
"I will kill him."
England stands, and places his hand on France's shoulder. France turns toward him, and collapses against him, more from disbelief this time than grief. His eyes are red and swollen, and his face almost seems dead.
"Why, England? Why Feliciano? Why would Germany kill him? Germany, of all people! They-they were in love! Germany loved him!"
England wraps his arm around France, and pulls him close. They are quiet, for a moment, as they take advantage of this, and simply hold each other. There is a promise, in their touch. A promise that, no matter what happens, they will see this through; for each other, and for all the other nations of the world.
"I love you, Angleterre."
"I love you to, wine-freak."
They pull away, and then they turn back to the table, with the map of the world that is spread over it.
"Who will they go after next?"
"Who knows. We don't even know where they are. But it's highly likely that Russia will want to go after Lithuania. Now that Poland's gone, who's to stand in his way?"
"But we need to warn everyone first."
"Who first?"
"Let us contact our sons, shall we? Alfred can spread the word much faster than either of us, Angleterre."
"I will do that."
---
Germany stands from his place in the chair. He has an idea. Over and over he thinks and plans and wonders if it might be possible. If it is, oh, how glorious it would be.
He has decided that he will not go to Prussia for help. Gilbert does not need to get involved. If he wishes to help, he will come, Germany knows that. There is no point in running after him.
"Russia, wake up."
The taller nation wakes, and blinks his eyes slowly.
"Da, Germany?"
Germany grins, and picks up his knife from where it had stuck into the seat cushion. Having a plan is wonderful. He knows just how things will go. He knows just what he wants to do. What he needs to do. This will be good, he knows it will. This will be fun.
"I know who we need to go kill."
"Hmm?"
"We need to go see China."