A/N: Hello again!
NONAMESWEREAVALIBLE, I know what a Lolita Complex is. But I interpreted it differently. I know that I should make her be attracted to kids, but I've already set up my storyline. I know that I should have changed it, but I find it more interesting this way. If you do not, then you don't have to read it. I'm not trying to be rude (I often come off as such) I just wish that you could think of the story from the writer's perspective. I know that you are a writer and are only trying to help. Many people on this site would agree with me if I said that Fan fiction writing is one of the most difficult hobbies that can be done at home. I'm sure you agree with me, so please cut me some slack.
Well, after that, I guess I'll tell some stuff to the general public.
I will be heading up to Vancouver over the summer and may or may not be bringing my laptop. So I might not be updating at all, or I might have them out as usual.
I also have school to worry about over summer (I'm taking prep classes) so that might damper everything a little if I am writing over summer.
I think that's it.
I silently cheered that I'd gotten somewhere to stay so quickly and I hadn't needed to hurt anyone. Or bribe them. Or invade their mind.
"But you'll be out of town by New Year's Eve, right?" Prussia asked, and only I heard the menacing tone in it.
"Why will she be out of town?" China finally asked.
"I have business. Financial things with Hungary." I sighed and suddenly felt exhausted.
My entire face was throbbing from the chemicals the medics shoved into it. My left leg had been entirely bandaged up because I suffered a huge gash. It started just below my hip and ended just above my ankle. I was lucky it wasn't the other leg because my tattoo would have been destroyed.
"I might stay for a few more days. I don't have much to do though. I might get my tattoo filled in." I shrugged and I saw much of the room nod.
"Should we get back to our Christmas?" England asked.
"Da, that would be best." Russia said as he opened the door to the hallway.
We filed after him and encountered the police.
"I'm so sorry ma'am. We just need you to sign these few things. As the head of the house you must do so." The lead investigator, Berwald Oxenstierna, spoke to Belgium.
"Actually," Belgium sighed. "I am not the head, Igna is." She gestured to me and I smiled.
"Sorry. Ma'am?" He held the clipboard out so I could read it. I did so and quickly made up a signature for Igna Ostrander. He studied it and nodded. "We ask for your forgiveness because we invaded this household. Though it may be temporary, I know how it can be infuriating for families to be investigated during the holidays." I nodded and finally got a look at his face.
I recognized his blue green eyes.
He leaned down and whispered in my ear. I froze and breathed in again to stay calm. A bitter cold sent filled my senses. In a way it was better than Denmark's sent.
"Holland, you're not fooling me. But I guess since you're not here quite legally, I'll cut you guys some slack. I won't report this incident to the authorities." I saw the small tattoo of snowflakes encircling what looked like a family crest on the side of his neck.
He stood back up and turned his back. The glasses and the eyes and the hair were pulling at the strings of my mind. His accent threw me off too.
I blinked and an image floated into my mind.
That guy from the coffee house! The one reading the book!
Sweden.
"Wait!" I shouted just as he closed the door.
I hit my forehead on my knees and looked around at the rest of the guys. They weren't phased whatsoever as they continued to move around the house like it was their own. I wheeled into the kitchen and sat infront of France.
"Francis," I breathed just loud enough for him to hear me. I had a low, but still audible tone.
"Yes Spel?" He asked coolly so he wouldn't raise suspicion.
"Did you see who that investigator was?" I asked as I stirred one of the pots on the stove.
"Berwald Oxenstierna?" He asked, genuinely. He really didn't know who he was.
"Sweden. That one from the Nordics. The one with the glasses. He's been at the meeting buildings some days, with Finland." I urged him to remember.
"Sweden hasn't ever come to the meeting building," France looked at me, half worried. "It doesn't have a representative." He wasn't lying.
My heart beat faster than normal and I looked back into France's deep blue eyes. He looked back and I felt something, it wasn't love connected.
He was trying to look into my soul.
The French have always believed that the eyes are the gateway to the soul.
Was he trying to do so?
I averted my eyes and barely blushed.
"Sorry, I thought I'd seen him before." I quickly said. "Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me." I covered up my panic and listened faintly to the sounds of chatter.
"Are you ribs broken?" I twisted my head to see England standing behind me. "I could help you with that." He had a pair of crutches in his hand.
"How?" I asked and he suddenly leaned down and put his hand on my stomach. I tried to peel it away but he started humming a small tune. My mind cleared and my ribs felt normal, unbruised and unbroken.
Then I was confused why I was in a wheelchair.
"Netherlands," France said dreamily. "Why are you in a wheelchair? Are your ribs broken?" He asked and I patted my stomach.
"I don't think so. Where did this wheelchair come from?" I asked as I stood up on my good leg. I was genuinely confused about what just happened. "England, weren't you just talking to Canada and America?" I asked and he slowly walked off with the wheelchair. I had the crutches under my arms in a few seconds.
Half an hour passed without anyone breaking into a fight and no drug dealers bursting through the doors.
Suddenly, I heard raised voices from the living room.
"-You're still mad about that Revolutionary War thing aren't you?" I heard America ask angrily from the living room.
"It's not that, my mind just wanders when you're in the room." England said from the couch.
"Why do you hate me? Is it because my chicks are hotter than yours?" America asked laughingly. I cocked my head to the side because I didn't understand what women had to do with anything in this conversation.
"No, I don't hate you. I just think of how we dominated your entire country at one point. We dominated the whole world once." He turned up his nose and smirked. They were both completely calm and still fighting with each other. I'd seen this with more mature people, but never these two. "The sun never sets on the British Empire." He sighed.
"The sun never set on the British Empire. Your monarchy only stretches around your little island. I have spread democracy around the word better than you have spread your empire." America sneered.
"But with that democracy you bring chaos and destruction." England retaliated.
"Better than your hateful rule." I looked up at France, wide eyed.
"America is winning for a change." I whispered.
"I don't think that anybody is going to interfere with this one." Prussia said from the table.
"Do you expect me to respond like you? Like an animal?" England asked smugly, both still in their chairs.
"No. I expect that you respond like yourself. Like a coward." America smirked while he spoke. He wasn't smug and he wasn't laughing.
He was being intelligent for once.
Spain drew in a swift breath from behind me as he watched to two nations duke it out with words.
"I admit that I've been stupid, and I admit that I've been childish. But I'll never admit that I'm a coward." England's words rang through the silent room.
"Then you'll never admit the truth. You couldn't even protect yourself if you tried." America was on top of this and knew where England was going. Where England was running.
Because England had no where to run.
"Do you know what the meaning of "Protect" is? Because the way I see it, you think the word "Protect" means death."
He just regained that power stolen by America.
"Every time you get yourself involved someone has to die." England kept talking. "And that someone is almost never you."
"You only kill others while trying to dominate. You have never felt the real struggle for Independence. You were never able to protect what you loved."
The power in this kept shifting back and forth.
They were two kings fighting with their wits.
"I've never loved anything." England stated and realized what he said to his little brother.
"Love is a vary fickle thing. You never know where it strikes." America didn't care about the fact that England said he didn't love him. "It may strike one who needs it, like you. Or it may strike someone who never wishes it, like me."
"You're in love?" England teased. "With who? Yourself? I feel bad for that poor woman."
Ooh, burn. I thought.
"Feel pity for yourself. Never knowing what love is." America didn't back down. "I can't be put into words. It's wonderful and terrifying. But you'll never experience it, you sad old man."
"Why do you long for something that ensues fear in you? Are you that stupid that you can't tell the difference between good and bad?" England asked.
"Yes, I am that stupid. But that stupidity is what defines me. You have nothing to define you from the next person on the line. You are sad and lonely. You've got nothing to live for anymore. What exactly is the point in your existence?"
Everything was silent for a long time. Seconds turned into minutes and minutes turned into hours. The two in the center of the room not blinking at all as they sat calmly in their thrones.
The thrones of war ridden kings.
That is what my house had turned into. A battle field for kings.
England pushed himself out of his chair and looked down on America. Despite the physical situation, America was the one who was on top of this war.
"We'll settle this later. When the entire world of our allies isn't watching." England said calmly but the entire room heard his fury. He turned his back and walked out the door.
We were dead silent for a long time. Everybody was either staring at the door or staring at the 16 year old sitting in the center of the room.
His head was turned down and he was staring at his lap.
Eventually everyone had started to chatter. Everyone started to move and do their own things.
"Net," I jumped at Belgium's sudden voice. "Lux and I have got to go." I looked up at her and she smiled.
"Just remember that we're here for you. We give you our forgiveness." Luxembourg said in his low voice. I smiled and they did the same.
"Alright guys." I said. "Go." I shooed them and they waved as they walked out the door.
"I know they hate you still." Spain said from the table.
"I know that too." I glared at him to convey my hate for him. "Because of you." He looked down as if to say he was sorry.
He'll never be sorry.
Then there was a knock on the door again. I sighed and walked over. I opened it to see two grown men and a girl about my age.
"NETHERLANDS! ! ! ! ! !" She shouted as she jumped onto me. My good knee buckled and I tried to get her off.
"Hi Cyprus." She was the little sister of Greece and Turkey, who were both standing behind her. She was also unaware that those two had been fighting over her for years now, ever since England lost rule over her.
"Sorry," She stepped back and looked at my disheveled appearance. "It's nice to see you." She said politely. "How long has it been now?"
"A year and a half." I sighed and looked at her.
We were the same hight. She had waist length, dark brown hair that almost looked black. Her eyes were a beautiful shining gray. She had pale olive skin, because she avoided the sun at all costs. She had a tattoo half-encircling her left eye. It started just above the middle of her eyebrow and stretching to a little bit passed the corner of her eye. It was a miniature version of the tattoo on my leg. She had succeeded in finding time and money to color the roses in. They were bright white against her lightly green-tinted skin.
We met each other a while back, as people. As Spelletje Vos and as Psyche Constantinou not as The Netherlands and Cyprus. We had bonded and became sisters. We each got our tattoos and, because of circumstance, weren't able to see each other.
"You bleached out you hair?" She asked as she examined it. "It's beautiful."
"I did it for her!" France called from inside the room.
"May we come in?" Cyprus asked kindly. She was so polite all the time.
"Yoshi." I sighed, accidentally in Japanese. I stepped aside and the three people flooded into my house.
It's a shame how Cyprus knows nothing of her older brothers' anger for each other and for her. They were only really brought together by her. She had a sweet bright spirit that had a soothing effect on everyone.
She could probably end a war just by being on the battle field.
"We have flowers." Cyprus pushed a huge bouquet into my arms. The white Cyclamen danced in my vision for a few seconds and I gained control over my self.
Turkey passed my and lightly gave me a smaller bouquet of tulips. He didn't look at me once because of our mutual hatred. Greece did the same as he walked in, although he did look at me and smile.
"Let me help you." He said sweetly and took the flowers from my arms so I could walk around to find vases. I found three of them to fit the flowers and Greece silently helped me with each.
When we were putting his flowers in, I dropped one of the violets.
We both bent down to pick it up and, because the universe hates me, our foreheads smashed together.
I fell back, clutching my head, and he nearly did the same. He stayed on his feet though.
Lucky bastard.
"Are you alright?" He asked as he stretched out his hand so I could get up. I gathered the crutches of the floor and refused to take his hand.
I stood up, with the support of the crutches, and found myself right at his chest.
My brain suddenly short circuited and I was left with a heavily beating heart and a man standing uncomfortably close.
But the weird thing, it wasn't uncomfortable.
Suddenly, I cleared my throat, and backed up a step.
"Sorry." I mumbled and fixed the flowers in front of me. Every beautiful flower, Laurels and Violets, were in perfect bloom. Since we were done, I nodded to him in gratitude and he nodded back, almost to say if it was nothing and that he was done here as well.
I hobbled back to the kitchen, where I promptly stood next to France.
"Spel?" France asked as he spooned something over something else.
I was never that brilliant with food, OK?
"Yes?" I asked and swung my feet back and forth.
"I believe you that Sweden has a person." He said as he lifted me away from a drawer to get a knife.
I looked at him, bemused, and he suddenly looked panicked. I had no idea what he was talking about.
"Sweden doesn't have a representative." I sighed, completely truthful.
But only truthful to my knowledge.
Then out of nowhere my mind held a fuzzy picture of a blonde man with glasses.
"I know." France acknowledged my thought, like he knew what was going through my mind. "It took me a while too." I looked over at him and tried to remember the fuzzy picture of the blonde man behind a book. Each second the picture became a worse quality. "Keep the picture in your mind." France looked me, dead serious.
"Why?" I asked, trying to remember more.
"Don't ask, just remember." He looked me in the eye again. "Do you remember him? The blonde man?" I nodded and didn't quite see where he was going with this. "Where else have you seen him?"
"But why?" I asked slowly and caught the picture in my mind as it tried to slip away.
"Just think!" He grabbed my shoulders and lightly shook me. I knew that something was horribly wrong and didn't coil away from his face, only an inch away from mine.
I thought and my mind kept drawing blanks.
"I... don't... know." I said slowly and sadly.
Just then, the entire memory of him slipped from me.
France looked immediately knew what happened and slammed his fist on the counter. The entire room looked at him and he ignored them to talk to me.
"That man's picture slipped from your mind and now you have no recollection of him at all, correct?" His words were low and quiet, and in French, so he could talk faster. I shook my head, but still knew what he was talking about. The man that I failed to remember. "Don't you find that odd? You were face to face with him merely half an hour ago, and now you can't even keep the picture of him in your mind. You were talking to me about him. Then England came over..." He shook his head and sighed angrily. "And I don't remember after that."
We stood in the kitchen for a while, swaying.
"Let's discuss this later." He said softly and straitened back up.
I nodded and sat on the counter to swing my feet back and forth.
I looked up to see Prussia staring at me. Once he caught my eye, he smiled evilly.
"America, Canada, Denmark, Japan, and now Greece!" He mouthed as he ticked each person off his fingers.
"Shut up!" I signed with German Sign language.
"You know German Sign language?" He asked with his hands. I nodded and looked back to France.
The sight of Cyprus right before me made me trow up my hands and fall off the counter in shock. I smiled up at her and took her hand so I could get up.
"Liquor?" She said as she gestured towards the door to the hall. I stared and used my crutches to walk over on one leg. I opened the door to see a large basket of alcohol.
"Nu is het een feest!" Dutch slipped from my mouth, although it was almost Japanese.
"What? Did you just say "it's a party now"? That's hilarious." Canada chuckled from inside the door.
I picked the basket and swung it around for everyone to see. The adults raised their eyebrows and the teens did as well, just in a different manner. The adults were probably asking themselves if they should splurge and the kids were asking themselves if they should break the law.
And, apparently, they did decide to break the law. All of them.
The evening went beautifully after that. There were some disputes here and there but that is to be expected of a houseful of nations. Much of the arguments were either solved with alcohol, or karaoke showdowns.
Don't ask. We were a household of drunks and we couldn't settle arguments.
When dinner was done, we ate in a circle either in chairs or on the ground, tables, and counters.
When the clock neared 11, some of the occupants of my room had started to leave. Turkey, Greece, and Cyprus were the first three to go.
Cyprus and I had caught up with each other before we were too heavily smashed. We decided to meet tomorrow or the next day, after we recuperated from our hangovers.
China was one of the only sober people in the room as he walked out. Then, Prussia and Spain left, to my delight.
"Would you like another drink?" France asked as he wobbled through the kitchen. I took the shot of vodka from his fingers and poured it down my throat, then I looked around at the room. Canada, America, Russia, France and I were the only few left.
Then, the unthinkable happened.
I blacked out in a room with three drunken teenage boys.
I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up naked in bed with more than one of them.
