Behind the Mask

by Kimanda

England has always been difficult to understand. To others and to himself, England has always hid behind his mask. But what happens when that mask is suddenly taken away? England must find himself again.

36. Chapter 36

Edit: I've removed the original paragraph here because I've made my stand, the anon probably saw this, and I don't see the need of keeping this paragraph up anymore. Apparently I wasn't completely cooled down, I can still read a hint of anger in my words. I just wanted to make some things clear because sometimes I feel people assume too quickly and are quick to judge something. In my opinion, you shouldn't judge a book until you've finished reading it. But I thank the readers who have supported me, it really means a great deal to me. Thank you. :)

On to other news, totally loving Scotland and university! Honestly, I don't know why I was so worked up about uni up until now... it's great! I even took an extra course on Celtic Civilization! Hello potentially new headcanons for the Celtic nations! ^^ (hey, did you guys know that Gaul doesn't actually mean just France? In classical terms, Gaul was used to refer to France, the Lowlands, Switzerland, South Germany and North Italy all together.)

Alright, on we go to the continuation of the story! :D (WARNING! Violence, blood and character death at the end of the chapter!)

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Chapter 36

Without even pausing for thought, America rose from his chair and immediately rushed over to the fallen Brit. Ireland was already beside England and was trying to turnhis head to the side so that England would not choke on the water that was flowing out of him.

England writhed on the ground, his eyes wide with fear and panic. But the shadows within his eyes remained, showing that England was still not out of his memory. His limbs jerked frantically as his body twisted around to expel the water from within him. He looked like he was drowning with the water that was blocking his airways, not allowing him to get any oxygen into his system. He was in genuine danger of asphyxiation.

America went down on his knees in front of England and looked at Ireland in panic. "How can we help England?" He asked anxiously.

"We have to make sure that none of the water falls back and gets to his lungs. In this position the water will only too easily flow back into him, but he won't hold still." Ireland said in a distressed tone, trying to turn England's head to the side and keep it in that position. But England's convulsions made it difficult to keep his head on the side for long.

"Attempt the Heimlich Maneuver, it might help him." Germany shouted over the din the nations were making, many of them panicking at the sight of England throwing up so much water. Where was all the water coming from?

"No, that will not help England!" China argued, quickly making his way over to Ireland and America. He sat on his knees beside the two nations and hurriedly explained to Ireland, "We have no knowledge of where the water is coming from but we have to make sure he doesn't choke on it. Try getting England to sit on his knees and slightly bend his head forward so that he will be able to get the water out of him."

Ireland looked unsure by the instructions but only nodded uncertainly, moving closer to his brother who was still writhing wildly and the Irish nation attempted to sit him up on his knees. Though England struggled quite a bit, Ireland eventually managed and gently bent England's head down, helping England with coughing the water out.

America, feeling a bit superfluous, shifted closer to England and slowly reached out to take his hand carefully. England immediately responded by tightening his grip on America's hand almost painfully. America winced but didn't complain about it, England was in a worse situation than he was, after all.

"America, you shouldn't interfere…" China warned disapprovingly but was stopped by Ireland who was shaking his head.

"No, I think it's helping Sasana a bit. He needs the comfort." Ireland briefly looked up at America to lock gaze with the superpower, and then sank his eyes to look at England worriedly.

After a few more seconds of England coughing out more water, the flow finally seemed to lessen and the smaller nation choked out the last few droplets. After gasping and breathing raggedly for a moment, the Brit suddenly collapsed. Luckily America caught England as he fell towards the American.

America carefully turned England onto his back. China leaned forward to inspect England closely and the nations of the room gathered around them curiously, now that the apparent crisis was over.

Of course after a minute of hushed silence, many nations started loudly asking questions and demanding answers to what had just transpired here. Many expressed worry about what had happened to England and America's ears were seriously starting to ring from all the questions being asked at the same time.

"Calm down everyone! One question at the time, I can't understand anything from any of you right now!" Ireland tried to yell over the din, but his voice was lost among the dozens of other voices. He and America looked at the other nations helplessly, not knowing how to put an end to the chaos.

India pushed her way through the crowd and stepped into the inner circle, turning around to face the other nations fiercely. "Nations, stop crowding and stand back! England needs some space to breath." India snapped, effectively shutting up the nations and causing a majority of them to take a wary step back from the irate female nation. She turned around to look at America and Ireland and the Irish nation shot her a grateful glance. India just nodded and took a step away from them, looking just as curious as the rest.

Ireland took a deep breath to calm himself down and looked at England, his brow furrowed in worry.

"What memory is it?" America asked curiously, seeing from England's eyes that the Brit was still at this point in the memory phase. At least his breathing had gone back to normal and the water that had previously come from England was starting to quickly evaporate into thin air, as if it had never existed.

China was looking surprised and confused by America's words, "A memory? What is America talking about? Was what England suffered a memory?" He looked from America to Ireland, expecting answers from either of them. The other nations seemed to lean forward slightly, all intrigued to hear the answer to China's questions.

Staring at the mass of nations, Ireland sighed and replied reluctantly, "Yes, Sasana is currently re-experiencing a memory, he's stuck in the memory phase right now. It's a personal memory, one that has probably had traumatic effects on Sasana. I'm worried about his reaction to it now…" Ireland bit his lower lip nervously. He truly look uncomfortable, he certainly knew what the memory was about.

America looked at England silently, observing the dark shadows in England's glazed eyes. He took England's limp body into his arms and stood up carefully, carrying England with him. America turned towards the double doors of the meeting and started walking towards the exit. The surrounding nations stood back further to let America pass.

"Meiricéa?"

The American turned around to look at a perplexed Ireland and flashed him a heroic grin, "I'm just bringing him out of the meeting. England definitely needs to wake up in a calmer place and he will probably not be up to returning to the meeting anytime soon today."

Ireland blinked a few times before standing up as well and muttering, "I'll come with you then."

Just as it seemed as if a few nations were going to protest or even suggest that they come along too (since this was far more interesting than the meeting), Germany clapped his hands together to get the attention of the others. "Alright, everyone else return to their seats. We still have a meeting to continue. I'm certain that either Ireland or America will be willing to fill us in later on when they have ensured that England will be alright."

The gathered nations groaned in annoyance and disappointment but they reluctantly returned to their places, seeing as they had no other choice in the matter. Both America and Ireland made their way out of the meeting, America still holding England's small body securely. It was odd how pliant and limp England was. It was almost scary for the American.

Once they were out of the meeting, America looked around for a place where he could put England down. He saw not far from the nations a few green armchairs. England began to tremble slightly at that moment, though the water was fully evaporated, he had still become cold.

"I think England needs to be warmed up." America commented, looking down at the shivering Brit and holding England closer to his chest, in the hopes that America's body heat would help him a bit.

Ireland stared at England wordlessly before nodding, "Ceart go leor, I'll go look for a towel or something." He walked down the hall and disappeared around the corner. America walked over to the armchairs and placed England gently on one of them. He sat on another armchair and looked at England carefully.

England was still shivering and was looking a bit pale in the face. His eyes were still unfocused. America wondered what memory England could be possibly be remembering. A personal memory where it seems like England was drowning? America never heard of any mention of that memory…

Wasn't England supposed to have been a very feared pirate and had ruled the seven seas with an iron fist in the past? Surely a guy like that never got close to ever drowning, right? Pirates simply couldn't drown, that was unthinkable!

Ireland returned after a few minutes, carrying in his arms a few dark green towels. He walked over to England and wrapped the towel around the shivering nation.

America asked after a moment of silence, "So, can you tell me more about this memory? I never heard of a time where England came close to drowning, but from what I've seen, it must have happened at some point in the past. What happened?"

Ireland sighed and straightened up, turning his head to look at the American warily. "It happened… a very long time, long before you came along. It's… an old story."

"I don't mind old stories. I want to know what happened." America insisted, not wanting to let go of the subject. He wasn't going to give Ireland any opportunity to slip out of this situation, he knew what had happened to England and America wanted to know too.

Seeing the determination to get answers in America's eyes, Ireland exhaled slowly and scratched his head uncertainly. Finally he replied, "Alba… how to put this in a more positive light… ach, there isn't anything positive to be said here… well, Alba almost drowned Sasana when he was young."

"Al-bah? Oh, by Alba you mean Scotland… wait, wait, Scotland?" America asked disbelievingly, "He seriously tried drowning England?"

"He wanted to tease England when he pushed him into the water. Alba hadn't expected that Sasana didn't know how to swim but he waited for a few minutes to see how Sasana would get out of this situation. When he didn't resurface, Alba went to fish him out." Ireland explained, looking at England and frowning slightly as he remembered the story Scotland had recounted to him many centuries ago. Back then, Ireland had thought that the story had been hilarious, but now… there wasn't anything funny about this.

"England didn't know how to swim back then?" America asked surprised, having assumed that England instinctively knew how to swim. Being an island nation surrounded by water, it made a lot of sense for America to think that England had always known how to swim.

"No, and… he never learned to swim."

Now America was staring dumbfounded at Ireland. England… never learned to swim. But that didn't make sense at all! "But how can that be? England was a pirate and probably had one of the best Navy in history! And he's an island nation as well, he's been always surrounded by water. How can a nation like him not know how to swim?" America demanded, unable to believe that England didn't know how to swim.

"Well in the old days, most pirates, if not all, never learnt how to swim so that in the event that their ship sunk, they died more quickly. Anyway, Sasana hadn't learned how to swim before Alba had pushed him into the lake and he probably never found the courage to learn to swim after that. I'm sure the incident left a mark on Sasana."

"You bet it left a mark on him, I can't help but wonder how England didn't grow up to be completely psychopathic after all the things you guys put him through." America scoffed, casting a side glance at England. Nope, still in his memory phase. He wasn't shivering as much but the Brit still looked unnaturally pale.

The Irish nation seemed to bristle at America's snide tone and said tersely, "I know there are many things we shouldn't have done to Sasana and we could have made his life easier, but we gave him the building blocks to become a strong nation. Without them, England might have never become the nation he is today."

"Yeah, but to what price?" America sighed and looked at Ireland a bit sadly.

Ireland blinked a couple of times before replying evenly, "For one thing, you would have probably grown up as a French colony and you would have spoken French as your main language. And most of Europe would be talking in French now as well. Not that I think that this is an improvement, but at least we're not being terrorized by the incomprehensible French grammar."

America shuddered at the image. Him, one of France's colonies? No way in hell could that have gone well! And imagine a French-dominated Europe? And a whole world having French as the international language instead of English? The horrors, the horrors…

After a moment of silence, Ireland stood up, looking uncertain. "If I remember what Alba told me of the lake incident, this was pretty much the time when England started hating us and wanted to desperately show how strong he was, even using force on us. If that's the case, I believe I better not be around when Sasana wakes up, I don't want him reacting badly to me. At least I think I should give him some time to calm down from the memory…"

"So you're going back to the meeting?" America asked inquisitively, looking at Ireland in surprise.

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Ireland shrugged, "Anyway, at least one of us should return and answer the questions of the other nations. Or they'll never let us off. Might as well tackle the questions now rather than later."

"I'll stay here with England then, to make sure he's alright and all when he wakes up. It's a hero's duty to do so." America grinned widely at the Irish nation. Ireland shook his head in amusement and turned to go.

America was struck by a question and called out after Ireland, "Hey, I have one question!"

Ireland stopped and looked around at America. "Yes?"

"Back at England's house, when I grabbed England's hand I managed to see his memory. This time when I grabbed England's hand, nothing happened. How come?"

At that Ireland looked thoughtful, the nation scratching his chin in thought. He finally explained, "Sasana may have possibly summoned a physical telepathic potential by accident, meaning that anyone who touched him for an extended period of time would be immediately given access to his mind. The potential is usually the strongest in the hands, hence why you were able to access England's memory so quickly when you took his hand. However this time, Sasana was probably too distressed by the memory to summon anything that would require energy and could jeopardize even more his life."

The American had to admit that he was surprised by the lengthy explanation. "…that sounds very technical. How come you make this magic business sound so complicated?"

"Because it is. Magic is far from being easy, it takes many years to be able to cast spells without causing an accident. A lot of people have too easily lost their lives because they believed that they could control magic." Ireland laughed lowly at that.

"Yeah, but you're not really good at magic either. I haven't forgotten the fiasco from the last time you used magic." America grinned widely.

The Irish nation pouted at that and crossed his arms, "Hey, they were just simple mistakes. My abilities are at the very least average, I am able to cast spells without much trouble. It's just that the results often aren't the ones I expect."

"But wait… does that mean I won't be able to see England's memory if I take his hand now?" America suddenly asked curiously.

"Don't think so, since Sasana is no longer in distress. He may have calmed down now, but I'm not sure if that means he has summoned the potential again…" Ireland replied uncertainly, but then he just shrugged and turned to return to the meeting. Before re-entering the meeting, he looked at America seriously and said, "Please take good care of Sasana."

"Will do!" America quipped, not catching the hidden message between the Irishman's words. How could he know that Ireland wasn't just referring to the time England would awaken from his memory but also beyond? How could America catch the silent approval Ireland was giving him about his developing relationship with England?

But that's oblivious America for you. You can't get more oblivious than him.

Once Ireland had returned to the meeting, America turned his head to cast another worried glance at England. England still showed no signs of getting out of his memory phase and he still was shivering.

Oh seriously, he wasn't just going to sit there and allow England to freeze! That's not what heroes did! America got up from his chair and walked over to England. Being careful not to jostle the smaller nation, America picked England up carefully and sat down on the armchair with the Brit in his arms.

There, now America's body heat should be enough to stop England's shivering! That's also when America really noticed that England had grown. America blinked in surprise at that realization. Yup, England had lost a little of the chubbiness a child normally has and his limbs had definitely lengthened. Well, it was a relief for America to see that England had finally started to grow.

England had stopped shivering and exhaled slowly, his eyelids lowering slightly. America smiled gently and pulled England closer to him. He curiously took England's small hand into his own but when nothing happened, America had to assume that England hadn't summoned… whatever had caused America to see England's memory the first time.

He hoped England would get out of the memory phase soon. America would be there to comfort the little nation, to tell him that everything was alright. To tell him that America was there for him. No matter what.

America blinked in surprise at his own thoughts. He laughed under his breath a bit uncertainly. "I really must be in love with England."

And he embraced this truth with no hesitation anymore.

Just then, America felt the familiar feeling of having the ground drop from under him. America blinked in surprise, confused. He realized that he hadn't let go of England's hand at all… oh crap, he was getting dragged into England's memory!

---

Numbness. That was all that Albion could feel. Cold numbness that invaded his bones, making him unable to struggle anymore. His chest felt heavy and the lack of oxygen was making Albion dizzy.

Albion slowly looked upwards towards what he presumed was the surface. If only he could reach it, the surface was so close and yet it seemed far beyond his grasp. England really didn't want to end his life like this, drowning like some pitiful puppy.

But he couldn't move… and he couldn't breathe either. Darkness was starting to claim his mind and his eyes rolled back as he lost his consciousness. Before his vision turned completely black, Albion faintly heard a small splash. But it was just a small splash, it hardly registered in Albion's mind.

He felt something thin and hard bump against his fingers a few times. He then felt the strange object brush against his hand a few times. For some inexplicable reason, Albion felt a surge of energy ignite within him and he moved his hands to firmly grasp the object. It felt wooden to him… a handle of a spear perhaps?

Albion was suddenly hoisted towards the surface and broke through the water, the young avatar still clinging to the object tightly. He was lifted into the air and then placed on the rock. Albion immediately started coughing up all the water that had entered his body, his body convulsing as he tried to retch the water out.

The moment the water was gone, Albion gasped and choked, trying to refill his lungs with oxygen. He breathed in and out rapidly, feeling the air rush down his throat almost painfully. He took several deep breaths before he felt his heartbeat return to normal.

"Pfff, was that really all that you had to offer?" A voice scoffed behind Albion.

The smaller avatar stiffened and turned his head around warily to see Alba crouching not far from him, grinning widely and his green eyes alight with malice. Beside him was his axe, the end of it dripping wet. Ah, he had pulled Albion out with that then.

"I mean, I expected a bit more of a struggle. You barely lasted a few seconds before sinking like a rock. Seriously, what kind of avatar are you if you give up so easily?" Alba let out a bark of laughter, seeming immensely amused.

"I… I…. c-can't s-s-swim!" Albion stuttered out, starting to shiver from the cold. His wet clothes clung to his skin and the harsh wind that was blowing certainly wasn't helping matters.

"So what? That does not excuse the lack of struggle you put up. If you hadn't grabbed my axe down there, I would have assumed that you didn't want to live and I would have been inclined to leave you down there." Alba frowned and reached out to flick England's wet hair in annoyance. "And stop being so honest. Really, if an enemy heard that from you, he would know your weakness and imagine the possibilities of torture he could put you through?"

Albion visibly shuddered, though he was not sure if it was because of the cold or the actual fear of being put through this situation again. Anger flared up within his chest and he glared at Alba icily. "Why did you push me in the water?" Albion ground out angrily, slowly feeling a burning sensation in his heart. It felt like his heart was being consumed by something dark.

"Bored, I suppose." Alba shrugged, seemingly unaffected by Albion's glare. Then he added, "I also wanted to see how much you would struggle before going down. Which was a big disappointment of course."

"Why didn't you just leave me down there and drown?" Albion spat venomously, digging his nails in the hard ground. Angry tears were starting to pour down his cheeks, why was he always a disappointment to his brothers no matter how hard he tried?

"Well it wouldn't be praiseworthy, hmm? I mean, walking up to the other avatars and saying, "Hey, I just killed an avatar who was small, weak and was STILL not attached to a group of people." Doesn't really sound impressive to me." Alba laughed harshly at that.

"Don't call me weak!" Albion bristled, the word itself painful to his ears. He was NOT weak! "And I will find my people, I'm sure of it!"

"Stop lying to yourself, you're probably nearing your third or fourth century and you still haven't become a true nation. It's starting to become a little late to stay hopeful. Maybe you're just one of those mistakes, you'll never become a nation." Alba leered, making Albion clench his fist tightly.

"You… You… b-BASTARD!" Albion shouted as he struggled to his feet and stumbled over to Alba, intent on inflicting some kind of pain on his elder brother.

Alba grinned and grabbed Albion's wrist, standing up while pulling the smaller avatar with him. Albion dangled uselessly, trying to get out of Alba's vice-like grip. "Really Albion? Attacking me without even a weapon? Your sense of survival is really deformed!" Alba tutted, flinging Albion away from him.

Albion fell hard on the ground but quickly struggled to his feet, breathing shallowly. The seething rage inside his heart only continued to grow. He wanted to hurt Alba. Wanted to make him fall down to his knees, gasping in pain. He wanted… to break him.

The little avatar was gritting his teeth together harshly, his green eyes ablaze with fury and hatred. He was going to prove to Alba, and also to Cymru and Éire and to the other damn bastards that HE was capable of becoming a true nation like them. He would become the strongest nation of them all and break them, forcing them to submit to his power. Make them suffer.

The older avatar raised an eyebrow at the seething nation, not missing the hatred in Albion's eyes. Alba grinned, he was finally getting a reaction one would expect from a warrior, not from some weakling. Alba picked up a stone and quickly flung it towards Albion.

Albion's eyes flashed as he saw Alba's movements and he quickly dodged the stone. Enraged, Albion grabbed a sharp stone on the ground and flung it fiercely towards Alba. Alba, briefly surprised by Albion's quick and aggressive reaction, was unable to fully dodge the stone. It struck his cheek, cutting into the skin.

Alba fell back a few steps, stunned by the impact. He reached with his hand to touch the cut on his cheek gingerly, feeling the warm blood seeping from the cut beneath his fingers. Alba's eyes darkened with anger as he looked up to gaze at the smaller avatar.

Only to find that Albion was no longer where Alba had last seen him.

He heard a twig snap and saw Albion in the distance, running as quickly as possible. Clever child, he knew how dangerous it was to anger the elder avatar. Especially if you were a smaller avatar who stood no chance in a fair fight against Alba.

Alba smirked and wiped away the blood that was trickling down his cheek. He would certainly enjoy getting back at Albion for that strike.

---

America looked around him, feeling quite lost. He had managed to land in England's memory but it felt like he hadn't… connected to it correctly. He could see where he was but the image kept flickering. America saw not too far from him two avatars, he assumed it was a younger Scotland and a younger England.

From the looks of it, America had arrived about the time where Scotland pulled England out of the water. America tried to hear what they were saying but somehow the sound of their voices was not reaching him. The American pouted and resorted to looking closely at the expressions of the two other avatars, trying to guess from that what was being said.

Not that it was difficult to make out what was being said more or less. Scotland seemed to be mocking England, and that seemed to enrage the Brit more and more. The smaller avatar looked almost scary with all that hatred in his eyes.

Then Scotland picked up a stone and flung it at England. America could only stare in shock, unable to believe that the ever-cheerful Scottish nation could have been so cruel in the past. But America was even more shocked when he saw England expertly dodge the stone and fling another stone at Scotland. This stone struck the elder avatar and cut his cheek.

America shuddered slightly, he couldn't imagine how rough things must have been for England and for other nations to live like this. America had been taken in fairly early by England, so America didn't really have many memories from when he used to live outside in the wild. But America had no idea how many years England had spent living wildly.

The image around him flickered again and America caught a fleeting glimpse of England fleeing from Scotland as quickly as possible, and the image disappeared abruptly into the darkness. America looked around in confusion and wondered where he should go. There was darkness everywhere, it kinda made the American feel almost claustrophobic.

"Leave me alone!" England's voice cried out.

America started and looked around, trying to locate where England's voice had come from. The Brit had sounded very distressed and it worried America. The North American nation searched in the darkness for a few minutes, scanning the impenetrable obscurity.

He then saw in the distance England, who was sitting in a hunched position and holding his head in his hands tightly. His shoulders were shaking violently, as if the Brit was suppressing sobs or trembling in fear.

Anxious, America ran towards the small island nation. When he got nearer, he was hit by a wave of apprehension and unease. There was something wrong here, the atmosphere was weird.

As if… there was another presence. An unfriendly presence.

The American turned his attention to England, who had not moved from his spot. England didn't even seem to notice that America was beside him. The small nation was shivering, a tiny whimper escaping from his throat.

"England?" America asked worriedly, crouching down to gently nudge the British nation.

England seemed to jerk at the touch and he dug his nails deeper into his hair, starting to shake his head fiercely, "Leave me alone, leave me ALONE!"

"England, what's wrong? It's just me, America! You don't have to be scared! What's happening?" America asked insistently, shocked at England's reaction. What was going on with England? Why was he behaving so oddly?

When England didn't respond to America, the younger nation bent over and grasped England by his shoulders gently and tried to rouse him. The smaller nation started struggling, attempting to get out of America's grasp.

Frowning, America finally dragged the Brit towards him and pulled the squirming nation into a tight hug, not giving England any opportunity to break free. The Brit suddenly stopped struggling. At that very moment, England opened his eyes wide and stared upwards, his eyes were blank.

But what worried America the most was the way the eyes were glowing. No eyes were supposed to glow like that, and yet England's were glowing a bright green. The island nation continued gazing emptily, even though America waved a wary hand in front of his face to try and get his attention.

America hugged England tightly, whispering under his breath, "Please be okay England, please come back."

Suddenly he felt his body jerk and something went through him, causing the American to shiver in discomfort. He pulled away to look at England in confusion and saw the Brit's pupils contract slightly and focus on America. The glowing in his eyes decreased visibly.

England murmured wearily, "Look up..."

Confused even more by the request, America looked upwards to see if there was something. The American froze with what stood towering over him. A dark silhouette had risen up behind America and was staring at him intently with those bright green eyes. The form grinned widely and its eyes brightened with the glint of insanity.

America jumped away from his spot and whirled around to face this form, demanding loudly, "Who the heck… what the heck are you?" He held England securely in his arms, he wasn't letting that creepy silhouette near the Brit. The island nation stared at him with half-lidded eyes, looking exhausted but worried as well.

Oh, it seems like someone else came to save your worthless self again. Strange isn't it, you always need someone to fight your fights, hmm? Such a pathetic weakling. The form sneered, taking a few steps closer to America and England.

"Leave us alone! If you come closer, I will beat you up!" America warned apprehensively, taking a few steps backwards from the form.

"Stop… dark voice…" England uttered, but America was not sure whether he was talking to the American or to the… wait, was that England's ego? How the hell could it assume a form? Given, it was just a silhouette but still… it had eyes and a mouth. Egos didn't have that usually.

But I wonder… would America always be willing to save you? The ego snarled lowly.

"Yes, I would." America replied sharply.

Would he never get bored of you and push you aside once you're completely useless to him? He's a superpower, after all. Superpowers don't need broken toys like you. The dark voice cackled loudly, walking around the two nations, not unlike a stalking feline.

"Don't listen to that bastard!" America growled, more than pissed by what the ego was saying. None of what it was saying was true! But somehow England must have been listening to it a lot in the past if it was able to become as strong as this. This really concerned America.

Looking down at England, America noticed that he wasn't completely there. The small Brit was struggling to keep his eyes open, and he seemed to be weakening. America looked around and noticed that shadows were moving around him, as if they were circling America.

As they approached, America noticed that many of them were starting to take on a form. America was shocked when he realized that among some of these shadows, some of them were beginning to look like versions of himself in different historical periods.

One of the America clones got closer, he seemed to be in his mid-teens, and he wore a sweet expression. He laughed, "Go to hell England, I don't need you. I never needed you!"

"Hey, I didn't say all that! Alright, I said the "go to hell" part, but I never said the rest!" America argued, affronted that this image of himself was saying things the real America had never uttered at England. He tried shoving the fake America away but it faded away in the darkness before America had a chance of making contact.

Other shadows became clearer as they walked closer and America started wondering whether they were nations that came from England's memories. They were all whispering something and America only needed to hear snippets to be convinced that they were all saying horrible things. And chances that some of those things were untrue were pretty high as well.

He had to get out of here, the negative atmosphere was suffocating and he felt England slip in and out of consciousness now and again. He looked around in anxiety, trying to find a way out. He looked down at England helplessly and asked quickly, "England, we have to get out of here! How do we get out?"

"I don't… know." England managed to force out. He added, "I just… wake up."

"Wake up then!" America said in a panicked tone, turning in circles as he tried finding a way through the wall of ghost-like shadows. But there seemed to be more and more of them, and the dark voice appeared beside the nations, staring at them gleefully.

Give up already. The ego snickered, reaching out with a claw-like hand towards England.

"Never!" America yelled, moving away from the dark voice and looking around frantically. Suddenly he looked upwards and tried remembering if he had been pulled upwards the last time he was in England's mind. It would make sense, since you wake "up" and you "rise" after you sleep. Up made sense.

Come here England.

Without giving it another thought, America crouched low to the ground and sprang into the air, hoping this might encourage the whole waking up process. Strangely enough, the laws of gravity didn't function the same way they did in reality and America was able to jump far higher than he could have ever done awake. He even got that soaring feeling, like if he was flying. But then he started floating downwards and he landed on solid ground again.

He cursed lightly when he saw that the shadows were following him. He looked down at England and saw that the Brit was almost nodding off. He asked pleadingly, "England, I could really use your help here! This is your mind, I can't get out of it without your help. England, please listen to me! You have to wake up!"

"But… I don't know how to wake up like that. It just happens." England whispered tiredly, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Come on, just try one more time with me. We only have to succeed once to wake up from this… nightmare thing. Hurry, the shadows are coming closer!" America said urgently, striding back and forth as he attempted to keep England conscious.

You're not worth saving England. Your worthless, pathetic life is not worth saving. Die already! The ego shouted as it abruptly appeared in front of America, glaring at England with those bright insane eyes. It dove towards the Brit and it was too quick for America to step back.

However, England's eyes shot wide open as the dark voice reached out for him and the island nation cried out in alarm. Suddenly there was a tugging motion and America felt himself and the Brit being pulled upwards.

---

England jerked awake, breathing quickly as he tried calming his racing heart down. He felt like he was waking up from a long and tiring nightmare. England blinked a few times as his breathing gradually slowed down. He wondered how long he had been gone. Long enough for the other nations had noticed?

What England quickly became aware of was the lack of voices. Had the meeting ended already? How come he wasn't hearing anyone talk? England felt a lot of confusion.

The next thing England became aware of was that he was not sitting in his chair at the table anymore. Indeed, England noticed that he was curled up against something… warm? It took England a few more seconds to realize that he was curled up against a body, someone bigger than him. England felt quite secure and comfortable, and the warmth did a great change in contrast to the cold he had suffered in his memory.

"Hey, are you awake?" A concerned voice asked quietly. England looked slowly up into worried azure eyes. America?

England wanted to ask how long he had out and what had happened since he had entered the memory phase. England also wanted to question why he had the distinct impression that America had intruded into his mind again. How did he do that? He rasped, "Hh… h-how…"

"Shh, don't talk. Your throat is probably sore." America shushed England, smiling as the Brit closed his mouth and looked at the American in surprise.

England became thoughtful and realized that his throat did indeed feel sore. Oh great, had he screamed in the meeting? From there he could assume that America had brought him out of the meeting. It definitely explained why England wasn't in the meeting anymore and why he presently found himself in America's arms.

"Wh-what ha-happened?" England whispered out hoarsely, inwardly cringing at the sound of his voice. God it was terrible… how much had he screamed?

"Hey, I said no talking." America tutted, hugging the smaller nation closer to his chest. After a moment he chuckled weakly, "I know that the World Meeting is not exactly popular among us, but I never knew you would go to this extreme just to get out of one meeting." He laughed lightly at his own joke, though his tone sounded strained. England felt like America was trying to recover from something, like he was mulling something over.

"But what-" England coughed, trying to clear his voice, "what did I exactly do? What happened?"

"Uh… you fell to the ground and… a lot of water came out of your mouth. You really freaked everyone out, no one knew what to do. I was… I thought you were seriously going to drown with all that water that was coming out of mouth." America explained, a hint of fear in his tone.

England looked down at his hands, frowning, "But I couldn't drown, since I didn't drown in my memory. I really hate this memory." England shuddered as a few images of the memory resurfaced in his mind.

"I can imagine that." America murmured quietly, shivering at the images he had seen. He was still trying to recover from his first real encounter with the dark voice. Man, talk about a bad acid trip. Not that America took drugs but if he did, then this was probably how a bad acid trip felt like. That dark voice was an asshole.

"Were you… in my mind again?" England asked hesitantly, sounding confused. "I remember meeting the dark voice again but things are a bit blurry… you were carrying me and shouting against my ego."

"Heh, guilty as charged. Yeah, I managed to get into your mind again, Ireland told me that apparently you summon this weird thing when you're in the memory phase that allows anyone touching your hand for too long to get access to your mind." America smiled sheepishly, before frowning darkly, "But your ego is really a bastard, a jackass. What was it doing to you before I came?"

"I-I'm not too sure. I came out of the memory feeling absolutely horrible and I remember the dark voice appearing in front of me and starting to… push itself into me. It wasn't pushing my physical body, it was pushing something that was inside of me… it felt awful, but somehow I couldn't find the strength to fight it. It stopped when you came and hugged me."

"Dude, that sounds like your ego was trying to possess you or something." America commented uneasily, having the sinking feeling that it was probably true and that England came very close to being possessed.

England sighed, "It really caught me off guard, I was just so preoccupied by the memory that I didn't notice my ego until it was standing right in front of me and then it attacked me… I didn't have time to react." The Brit exhaled slowly, closing his eyes for a moment. "There was so much hatred inside that memory… too much of it. I don't like feeling so much hatred."

America looked down at England, a bit worried about the Brit's tone. He laughed nervously, "Yeah, well you haven't felt a lot of it lately but you used to hate a lot once."

"Why was I that hateful?"

"Dunno, I didn't really see that part of you when I used to be a colony. You always made sure I never saw that part of you." America shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, not liking where this conversation was going.

England was silent for a moment before adding doubtfully, "But then you saw that side of me often enough after you became independent of me, huh?"

The American shifted uncomfortably, at loss about what he should say. He attempted to smile in a carefree manner, "Yeah, but you really shouldn't dwell so long on that depressing stuff. There's more to life than looking back on what you did or said and regretting those actions. Don't go making yourself a perfect target for your ego, it feeds itself on negative emotions like that. Brighten up and don't let it bring you down. Anyway, is your throat still sore? Should I get you something to drink? Definitely not water but how about… hot chocolate? Sound good?"

"Hot chocolate?" England repeated curiously, briefly dragged out of his own morose thoughts at the mention of a word he didn't recognize. What in the world was hot chocolate?

"You… don't know what hot chocolate is?" America asked stunned, amazed by that fact. "But it's chocolate! You gotta know what chocolate is!"

"I know what chocolate is!" England huffed slightly, staring at America. "But how can it be hot? If it's hot, it melts…"

"Well, that's exactly the gist of hot chocolate." America grinned widely.

England looked astounded, "You can drink that?"

"Yeah, that's the whole reason why hot chocolate was invented! The concept is actually older than chocolate bars even." America laughed lightly at England surprised expression. Seeing the Brit so surprised about something so simple just amused America to no end.

"I would like to try it out then." England mumbled quietly, his interest piqued. America grinned happily and stood up, turning around to set England back on the armchair.

"Alrighty, I'll see what I can find. You stay here while I'm gone, okay?" America gave England a thumbs up as he flashed him a heroic grin. England blinked a little at America's display but still nodded mutely.

America turned around and started walking away. The American cast a last glance at England before disappearing around the corner. England watched America's departure with a pang of sadness, not really wanting to be left alone. He didn't want to be pulled back into his dark thoughts, he didn't even want to think about the dark voice.

Weakling. The dark voice spat suddenly.

"Jackass." England muttered quietly, shoving his ego to the back of his mind. He was disturbed at how close the dark voice had been in possessing him. The Brit firmly promised himself never to allow his ego to get so close again.

Another reason why England hadn't wanted America to leave…He liked being in America's arms. It somehow felt right.

…Now that was another matter that seemed to confuse England more and more. The way his heart reacted when he heard America's name or saw the American. Why did his heart feel so odd, so jumpy? England quite liked America but it seemed to be a different story with his heart. It was a different emotion, one that England didn't really recognize. All he knew was that it was a strong emotion.

Footsteps in the hallway caused England to break out of his thoughts and look up, wondering if America was coming back. Huh, he had been pretty quick. The footsteps got nearer and nearer until the person turned around the corner. Then England was quickly able to assess that it wasn't America.

So why did he feel a pang of disappointment in his heart? He really needed to find out why his heart reacted like that because he was completely at loss about it.

England looked closely to see who was approaching. He was surprised to see that the new arrival turned out to be a young teen in a sailor suit. It was with a jolt that England realized that he had seen this person before… in his recent memories! Yes, he vaguely remembered seeing that boy… or nation? He didn't feel like a nation. However there was a striking resemblance between him and England.

The teen had been humming softly to himself, having at first not noticed England. He came to a stop when he did spot the Brit. He blinked slowly, his blue eyes wide. England noticed that the teen also had thick eyebrows, just like him.

Both stared at each other in stunned silence, waiting for the other to make the first move. England finally gave in to his curiosity and asked, "Who are you?"

The sailor boy seemed taken aback by the question, "You… don't know who I am?"

England cocked his head to one side, narrowing his eyes, "You do seem familiar to me but I don't know who you are exactly."

The other was silent, looking thoughtful. Suddenly his blue eyes brightened up and he puffed out his chest proudly, "You have before you the great Sealand, the greatest nation the world has ever seen!"

Sealand? England blinked in surprise, the name did ring a bell inside his head but… somehow something was not adding up. Sealand called himself a nation and England definitely didn't feel that the sailor was truly a nation. On top of that…

"You're a nation?" England asked doubtfully, sitting up a bit straighter to regard Sealand closely. Sealand grinned widely and took a step closer to England.

"The greatest." Sealand added smugly.

"Then how come I haven't seen your name anywhere on the world map?" England asked suspiciously, Wales had made him memorize the map often enough for him to be aware that he had seen absolutely no mention of the country Sealand. Who was Sealand really?

"The world map is stupid obviously." Sealand pouted and stuck his hands into his pockets. England frowned slightly, aware that Sealand wasn't being entirely truthful on who he was. He couldn't be a nation or England would have noticed him on the world map. Hmm, that meant that Sealand wasn't an official nation maybe?

"Please Sealand, just be honest and tell me who you really are. I know that I knew you before I lost my memories and I would really appreciate it if you didn't take advantage of my amnesia to lie about who you really are." England said wearily, hoping that Sealand would just tell him the truth. He didn't want lies anymore and he didn't like that Sealand was taking advantage of him to lie about who he truly was.

Sealand blinked in surprise, seemingly surprised by the straightforward request from England. The sailor shifted uncertainly before admitting, "I'm your younger brother and I'm… well, I'm actually a micro-nation."

"Micro-nation?" England echoed, furrowing his brow as he tried to remember what a micro-nation was exactly. So Sealand was in a way a nation but he was a micro… wait, didn't micro mean small? Small nation?

"Yeah," Sealand pouted and scuffed the heel of his shoe on the ground. "You built me in 1945 but then you didn't want me back so I wanted to be an independent nation. But you never let me."

"How did I build you?" England asked perplexed.

"I'm a sea fort, I was built during WWII. But now I want to be independent and you won't let me!" Sealand said, his tone sounding accusing.

England couldn't help but point out, "But you're not really connected to the land, you're man-built. I can't really see how you can become a nation, you don't feel like a nation to me."

Sealand sighed dramatically, "And the new England is just like the old jerk England."

"I'm not a jerk, I'm being realistic." England huffed, bristling slightly at the word "jerk". He wasn't too sure what the word meant but the way the micro-nation said it made it quite clear to England that it wasn't a very positive word.

The micro-nation puffed his cheeks in annoyance and frustration before he snorted and began full out laughing. England stared at Sealand in confusion, not knowing why the micro-nation suddenly started laughing.

"I'm so used to have an old and grouchy England tell me off for trying to be an independent nation and even though you've shrunk, you're still trying to tell me off when I'm bigger than you." Sealand giggled as he tried to explain, but England still failed to see what was so funny about that.

Suddenly a voice England did not recognize spoke up loudly, "So there you are Sealand. I was looking for you everywhere!"

Sealand started and turned around to the source of the voice. England leaned to one side to see behind Sealand and saw a girl whom he hadn't seen until now. Not even in any of the previous meetings. The brunette seemed to be of similar age with Sealand except her skin was tanned and she had a… band-aid on her forehead? That was a bit odd. She was also carrying a lot of stuff in her arms. England could spot paper, paintbrushes, pencils… she was really into art.

"Oh, hey Wy! I was just talking to England here." Sealand nodded his head over to the smaller nation. Wy turned her gaze to England, considering him for a moment. Then she just shrugged and looked back at Sealand sharply.

"You promised you would draw with me." Wy frowned at Sealand, walking over to the two boys and setting all of the art supply down on the floor around her. "So, are you gonna draw?"

The British micro-nation grimaced, "Why're you so obsessed with art? You're really not giving me any choice in this matter…?"

"Of course not, you did say you would draw with me." Wy smiled knowingly and handed Sealand some blank papers and a pencil. "Come on!"

Sealand sighed and sat on the ground, taking the pencil into his hand. Wy handed to him a board so that he could draw on the carpeted floor. England stared at both of them from the couch curiously.

He finally asked Sealand, "Is Wy also a micro-nation?"

Looking up from his paper, Sealand nodded and grinned, "Yeah, just like me! Except she's an Australian micro-nation, while I'm a British micro-nation"

"And I'm at least acknowledged by someone." Wy laughed when Sealand started to protest. She stopped drawing and looked up at England closely. Suddenly she demanded, "Why aren't you drawing too?"

"Me…. um, drawing?" England looked at Wy in puzzlement. Why should he draw? What was he supposed to draw anyway?

"Come on, get off your lazy butt and come down here to draw with us!" Wy ordered bossily, putting her hands on her waist as she waited for England to move. Unsurely, England unwrapped the towel from around him and slid off the armchair slowly. He approached Wy who handed him a blank page, a board and a pencil. England stared at them blankly before looking at Wy.

"But what should I draw? I have absolutely no idea what I should do."

"Just draw whatever comes to your mind. Let the artistic flow inside you go wild and free!" Wy exclaimed, for the first time splitting into an encouraging smile at England.

Sealand looked up from his paper and scoffed smugly, "Knowing your "artistic flow" Wy, I'm sure you'll just end up drawing sea shells or flowers again."

Wy turned to look at Sealand and her eyes narrowed, "And knowing you Sealand, you're probably going to draw some robots or yourself as a grown-up nation again."

"Hey, at least it's more original than what you do!" Sealand countered defensively. England watched the two micro-nations bicker against each other, watching them in interest. It was funny because although they seemed to be arguing, it seemed quite good-natured. Both sides knew the other and they teased without stepping over the line of just being plain insulting.

England smiled in amusement at the two micro-nations' antics and turned his attention back to his still-blank paper. So he should just let his "artistic flow" go wild? He should try… England gripped his pencil tightly and brought it down on the paper, starting on impulse to draw a shaky line.

---

Ugh, America had never had such a hassle with finding hot chocolate. At least in his own home, you could find it literally everywhere. But here the streets were confusing, the writing illegible and just… nothing made sense to the poor American! After a while of searching in vain, America had finally asked a passing Indian about where he could buy hot chocolate.

After some initial confusion, once the Indian understood what America was looking for, the human seemed to brighten up and suddenly started chattering in excitement. From what America managed to understand, the human was telling him of a place which specialized only in hot chocolates. It was apparently the best place in India to get hot chocolate. The place was called "Choco La" or something of the sort.

The Indian explained to America in fragmented English where the place was and although America sometimes had difficulty in understanding what the Indian was saying, he managed to get a rough idea of how he was supposed to find the place.

So he went there, was overwhelmed by the different options of chocolate, had a little trouble understanding the cashier who spoke English in the weirdest of the accents and finally managed to get the hot chocolate for England.

He promised himself he would come back to this place to check it out more. The amount of chocolate present there went on the borderline of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate factory. He chuckled when he saw the motto of the shop: Save Earth. It's the only planet with chocolate.

America definitely wanted to try out all of the chocolate in this shop, they all smelled so good! But remembering that England was waiting for him back at the World Meeting, and logically the hot chocolate in America's hands wouldn't stay hot forever, the American went back to the World Meeting. He really hoped that he hadn't been away for too long, he couldn't tell how long he had been gone due to the lack of a watch. At least he was almost sure that he hadn't been gone for an hour.

When he was returning to the place where he had last seen England, he was surprised to hear talking and laughter. As he turned around the corner he quickly saw the source of these noises. Sealand and Wy were sitting next to each other on the floor, lightly teasing each other over their pictures. They had drawn a lot, the pages were strewn all over the floor. America was silently thankful that they were there, it meant that England hadn't been on his own during his absence.

England was sitting on his knees not far from the micro-nations, concentrating on the paper that was before him. A bunch of crumpled paper lay littered around him, it was clear that England had attempted quite a few times to draw something. England was frowning slightly and biting his lip in concentration and he continued drawing on his current page. He didn't even seem to notice that America had returned.

The American walked over to the Brit quietly and crouched low to see what England was drawing. It looked like a series of random lines, some of them straight and others curvy. At first America was confused. Seconds later, the American was still confused. He couldn't understand what England was trying to draw…

"Hey." America greeted, trying to gain England's attention. Maybe England could explain to him what this confusing picture was supposed to be. England jumped slightly and looked up at America in surprise.

"Oh, America. I didn't hear you come back." England then broke into a smile, seeming really pleased that America had returned. America grinned back in response and handed England the cup of hot chocolate.

England took the cup carefully and stared at it curiously, raising it up to smell it. His interest piqued by the smell, England raised the cup to his mouth and sipped on it. His green eyes widened in surprise and once he brought his cup down, England exclaimed, "That actually tastes good."

"Yup, nothing beats hot chocolate, no matter in what part of the world you are." America laughed, highly amused by England's reaction as the island nation proceeded to take another sip. It was just completely odd, who would have ever imagined such a positive reaction from a normally perpetually bad-tempered Brit? It was really a side of England America rarely got to see.

"Hey, how come we get nothing?" A voice piped up. America turned to look at the two micro-nations who were staring longingly at the hot chocolate.

"How was I supposed to know you guys would be there when I came back? I'm no psychic." America joked lightly.

Both micro-nations pouted at the unfairness but then Wy looked at England's picture and she cocked her head in confusion. She asked curiously, "So, do you have any idea of what you're drawing?"

England looked up at his drawing thoughtfully but then he shook his head. "No, I'm really not too sure what I'm drawing… I think I don't have that "artistic flair" you keep talking about."

Wy approached England to get a better look at the picture and Sealand tagged along. Sealand looked at the picture briefly and commented with a snicker, "Your picture is seriously weird. Weirder than Wy's even."

"Sealand, you don't want me to say what I really think about your robots, do you?" Wy warned the other micro-nation, her fierce brown eyes narrowed. Sealand closed his mouth and shook his head.

The Australian micro-nation returned her attention to the picture before admitting herself, "But the picture is odd, I can't really see what you're trying to draw."

"As I said, I don't know myself. I'm just drawing what's coming to me." England sighed, staring at the picture in confusion.

America leaned closer to get a good look at the picture before asking, "What are you actually trying to put down on paper?"

England stared from his paper to America, considering the American silently. He answered uncertainly, "I realize that it's maybe something undrawable, I was trying to draw… the dark voice. You know, the one you heard as well."

The dark voice? America thought, surprised that England was trying to draw that bastard on paper. Admittedly it was something that couldn't be drawn easily, heck, maybe even impossible. That thing deserved to burn in hell as far as America was concerned.

"What voice?" Both micro-nations asked in unison, looking back and forth to America and England. England seemed unsure to elaborate so America decided to answer in his place.

"Just a voice. Long story, I doubt you'd be able to understand."

Sealand and Wy pouted in response and crossed their arms, both saying at the same time, "We can understand, don't treat us as if we're stupid children."

But then Sealand turned to Wy and laughed, "Then again, you're technically just 7 years old while I'm about 43 years old. You're more of a baby than I am."

That started a bicker among the micro-nations about whether physical age mattered or physical appearance had more of an influence on their maturity. America and England watched them in amusement before America returned his attention to England. He was slightly concerned that the Brit had attempted to draw the dark voice, why would he draw the thing that torture him the most?

"Hey, why are you trying to draw your ego? Don't you hate it?" America asked quietly, making sure the two still-bickering micro-nations wouldn't listen in on the nations' conversation. England blinked a few times slowly, looking thoughtful as he regarded his picture.

"I wanted to draw it because I thought… if it was something more solid in my mind, then I wouldn't be so scared of it. Also I thought it would be nice if I had the dark voice on paper, I could rip the paper apart. At least that should give me some satisfaction, since I can't fight it in reality."

"England, if that bastard of a voice ever starts brainwashing you outside your nightmares, you'll tell me, alright? Then I'll be the hero and come save you from it." America grinned widely, nudging England's shoulder.

The Brit looked up in surprise at America, his green eyes questioning. "But how can you fight a voice that is within my head?"

"Dunno." America shrugged but added in a determined tone, "But I'll figure it out and I WILL help you." He said it with such a conviction that England seemed taken aback by so much earnestness.

A few seconds passed until England split into a grateful smile and he got up from his knees to hug America. "Thank you America." England said quietly, surprising the American with his show of affection.

They really had a knack in surprising the other, didn't they?

"Hey, what'd we miss?" Sealand asked inquisitively, him and Wy having finally stopped bickering at each other. England pulled out of the hug and sat down at his picture again.

America could only grin at the Sealander and replied, "Sorry Sealand, you completely missed the whole conversation. Shouldn't be so caught up with arguing with your girlfriend." America snickered at his last comment.

Sealand quickly became red in his face and protested loudly, "She's not my girlfriend!"

"Pff, how could Sealand be my boyfriend?" Wy scoffed, wrinkling her nose. She looked down at Sealand's and her pictures and then said thoughtfully, "You know, those robots would really look nice with a few flowers on them."

"Oi, no girlifying my robots again!" Sealand said in alarm as he went back towards Wy, trying to prevent the Australian micro-nation from damaging his drawn robots.

America and England started laughing once again as a scuffle ensued over the colour pencils. Neither heard quiet footsteps approach them until a soft voice spoke in a frustrated tone, "Really America, your abilities in finding excuses to skip World Meetings knows no boundaries, eh?"

The American started and turned around to behold a frowning Canadian. America opened his mouth slowly, unsure whether he should defend himself or apologize. Canada folded his arms and looked at America expectantly. He was tapping his foot on the ground in irritation and America squirmed a bit under the Canadian's gaze.

Suddenly his blue eyes widened in excitement, "Wait, if you're out that must mean its lunch right now, right? Great, I was starting to feel hungry!"

Canada jolted in shock and protested in an extremely irritated tone, "You completely missed the point you… you…" Canada started going after the American who quickly jumped onto his feet and with a loud, obnoxious laughter, was dashing away from the Canadian as quickly as possible.

England could only stare in surprise, cocking his head to one side curiously as he tried to make sense where both North American brothers had run off to.

---

Albion gripped his heavy sword tightly in his hands, so tightly that his knuckles were white from the effort. His whole frame was shaking, though he was unsure if it was due to the harsh cold winds or to the fear gnawing at his insides. Most likely both.

The small nation continued climbing the rugged hills, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. Albion tried keeping his breathing shallow and even, he couldn't afford to make too much noise. At least not before he had the enemy in sight.

In the last few years, Albion had begun to feel a strange stir inside of him, inside his heart. It was the feeling of change that alerted Albion that something was happening to him. Soon enough he came to the joyful conclusion: His potential people had finally appeared and as a result, a link between the ground and the people was starting to form inside of Albion. He was becoming a nation!

Oh how happy Albion had felt. It was a wonderful feeling to finally know that you were going to become a nation after all, that his existence would have some significance in the world and that he could finally represent his own people.

Truthfully, he had seen in the following months very little of these people who would one day claim him as their representation of the land. Albion had approached them warily, they still appeared to be nomadic and were met with a lot of resistance by the Britons, who were led by the surviving Celtic nations.

Cymru had never looked so angry and so fierce, he was normally a passive nation who rarely bothered to show what he truly felt and ignored Albion more than he bullied him. But now Cymru and his people were hostile and aggressive, yelling and hissing at the unwelcome strangers to leave their lands.

But how long would these lands remain theirs? The longer these strangers stayed and founded villages and drove Cymru's people away, the more likely it was going to become Albion's soon. Cymru had felt the link forming as well, he knew that Albion was becoming a nation too.

Albion had noticed the sharp and cold scrutiny in Cymru's eyes as he, Kernow and Breizh had to flee from yet another failed battle of resistance against the "invaders". Breizh seemed to be weakening every day, her people were fleeing the island and moving to the continent. Soon the female nation would be forced to go after her people, despite the fact that this meant that she was going to have to leave her two brothers behind to fight the increasing numbers of the invaders. Albion couldn't help but feel slightly smug about his people. They already were showing a lot of power and were equal in forces compared to the natives of the island. It was a bit strange listening to them speak though, their language was gruff and coarse. Albion wondered if they were going to name him soon and if they did, what would his name be?

But of course, life was never meant to be easy for Albion. Now that there seemed to be some hope for Albion to become a proper nation, another of his kind just had to appear on his land and put his position in jeopardy.

Now Albion understood why the previous Ancients had killed in order to preserve themselves. The smaller and younger avatars were capable of becoming quite strong and would eventually turn on the Ancients and kill them. Just like the Ancients had done to their predecessors and neighbours to expand their territories. So instead of waiting for the fateful day, the moment an Ancient saw a younger avatar appear on or near their lands, they would immediately eliminate the potential threat.

Apparently this violent habit had almost ceased to exist now. Less and less unbound avatars appeared from the earth and those that remained were being attached to a group of people which they would come to represent in later years. Many of the Ancients had started to disappear and most accepted their fate as their time drew to an end.

However, just because unbound avatars had stopped to appear didn't mean they no longer existed. They did as it would take some of them several decades or even centuries before they found their people. Or there was a simpler way of gaining your own people: kill the existing avatar, or nation.

Albion was immediately on alert when he felt the unbound avatar enter his land. The hostile avatar felt Albion and the connection between him and the land, making Albion the perfect target for the unbound avatar. Albion had caught a few glimpses of the other, it was a mousy-haired male who also had the characteristic thick eyebrows that all existing avatars of this island seemed to possess.

But there was something different about this avatar. By appearance he was a lot older than Albion, indicating he had been around for a longer time. He was almost as tall as Alba. The fact that an avatar his age was still unbound signified that he was indeed a mistake. This avatar would never become a true nation, unless he killed and took the spot of another.

The way the avatar moved was also different. More animalistic. From what Albion had observed, this avatar was probably more connected to the earth and fauna than to anything human. Albion even doubted the avatar was able to speak the universal language of the nations.

A sudden growl caused Albion to quickly snap out of his thoughts. The other avatar probably felt Albion's presence by now but the young nation dearly hoped that he hadn't spotted him yet.

He had to get in a position where he could see the avatar and ambush him. It remained to be seen how fiercely Albion would have to fight to assess himself and prove to the other avatar that he was a nation and he wasn't going to be defeated. Albion had survived and waited for far too long just to have someone else snatch his status from him.

Albion dropped down to a crouch as he slithered among the bushes, stopping every few seconds to look around and listen to localize where the other avatar was. He heard some snapping of the twigs ahead of him.

Very silently, Albion crawled until he reached a group of bushes and pushed a branch aside to see if the avatar was in front of him. He smiled grimly, his senses hadn't failed him. The avatar was walking warily, not entirely upright and his eyes were darting quickly from side to side.

He uttered a guttural growl, fully aware that Albion was somewhere close by but continued to evade detection from the elder avatar. Albion studied him shortly, the avatar was a lot bigger and seemed stronger now that Albion was closer, but there was one key difference: All the avatar had as a weapon, was a jagged rock that he held awkwardly in his hand. Nothing else.

Albion bit back an incredulous laugh. It was almost impossible to imagine how underdeveloped the avatar was. Even his clothes could barely be considered clothes, very rudimentary sewing went into making that piece of wolf-skin even wearable.

The little nation gripped his sword securely in his hand, willing his nerves to calm down. Should he jump out and ambush the other? Or should he walk out slowly and show the avatar he was willing to let the other go without a scratch if he didn't try to attack him?

Well, a non-violent approach could work. It's not like Albion wanted to avoid a fight because he was afraid of the other, but he simply didn't really feel like putting himself in danger of an injury. Going by the size and strength of the other, it was a factor Albion had to consider.

Albion straightened up and walked slowly out of the bushes, deliberately stepping on the twigs on the ground to alert the other of his close proximity. The avatar started and whirled around to focus on Albion.

A staring match ensued between both avatars, sizing each other up. The taller avatar quickly noticed the advantage he had in terms of height and strength compared to Albion. The avatar grinned widely, showing a row of yellow sharp teeth to Albion.

The nation blanched at the display, seeing how untamed the other was. He had sharp teeth! No one of his kind had such sharp teeth! At least not anymore, avatars had become more human-like. How the hell had this avatar remained so feral?

The avatar took a few heavy steps closer to Albion, his nostrils flared as he took in the smell of the younger nation. Albion stared at the avatar cautiously, immediately getting the feeling that he was being stalked. He was starting to feel uncomfortable.

"Y… you… l-land…?" The other uttered in broken words, having never completely learned to even speak the language shared among his kind.

"Yes, this is my land." Albion answered tensely, his shoulders stiffening as the older avatar started to walk slowly around him. Okay, the other was definitely stalking him!

"M…m…mine." The avatar growled lowly, his feral eyes flashing with concealed fierceness. He bared his teeth in silent threat towards the smaller nation. He clearly thought he was entitled to the land since Albion was younger.

Albion would have none of that!

"No, this land is mine. The people who live here are mine. If you know what's good for you, you'd leave." Albion hissed lowly, turning towards the avatar and went into a defensive position.

The avatar blinked for a few seconds before he started growling aggressively, crouching low to launch himself at Albion. The eyes of the young nation widened in alarm, the other was really ready to fight him no matter what? Ready to kill him just to claim his status? Albion's green eyes darkened with hatred.

Albion raised his sword, his eyes glowering at the avatar.

Without a warning, the avatar launched himself with a roar towards Albion, his jagged rock high over his head as he swiftly brought it down towards the smaller avatar. Albion dodged the attack and as the other swung again to hit Albion, the nation countered the attack with his sword.

The sword being definitely more dangerous than the jagged rock, the avatar quickly jumped away and attempted to attack from the other, unguarded side of Albion. Albion whirled around and blocked the avatar's attack again with his sword.

The attacks continued for a few minutes, with the older avatar attacking and jumping back constantly while Albion blocked every single attack that came his way. Finally the avatar launched an extremely fierce attack towards Albion.

As Albion blocked the attack again, instead of jumping back, the avatar swung his leg around and tripped Albion unto his back. Albion had only a few seconds to realize he was falling until he hit the ground hard on his back.

Albion quickly rolled unto his hands and knees and attempted to jump to his feet. That was when he felt the sharp edge of the jagged rock being plunged into his shoulder. Thanks to the thick cloak he was wearing, only the tip of the rock scrapped Albion's skin. It still didn't stop Albion from gasping out in shock and pain.

Quickly trying to struggle to his feet, Albion attempted to dislodge the avatar who was towering over him. The avatar snarled and just as Albion was about to get away, he grabbed Albion's cloak and pulled the smaller nation to the ground forcefully.

The avatar grabbed Albion's neck and tried turning the nation onto his back, exposing Albion to the sharp blade of the jagged rock. Albion shouted and struggled fiercely, screaming as the avatar plunged the rock into Albion's left arm.

Grabbing the sword in his right hand, Albion swung it blindly at the older avatar, desperate to get away from the avatar. The avatar screeched in pain and fell back from Albion, holding his forearm tightly.

Albion did not pause to see how much damage he had inflicted on the other, he swiftly struggled to his feet, his left arm hanging limply to his side. The haze of blood, fear and panic was starting to affect Albion's senses and he now saw the other as a danger that had to be eliminated.

With an enraged cry, Albion ran towards the wounded avatar with his sword, ready to injure the other further. What Albion hadn't expected was for the elder avatar to recover from his shock and launch himself at Albion once again. He knocked Albion onto his back again.

The older avatar grabbed Albion's right wrist and pinned it over his head. He completely sat down on Albion, making escape impossible for the nation. Albion stared at the avatar with wide eyes as he saw the other reach out for the jagged rock that he had dropped previously.

He wouldn't be able to avoid a direct hit. Albion was going to be killed.

In a final desperate attempt, Albion ignored the screaming pain of his left arm and raised it to frantically scratch the avatar's face. In his surprise, the avatar let go of Albion's right wrist to bring both hands up to his face to shield himself.

Without thinking, Albion yelled loudly and thrust his sword upwards into the avatar above him.

Silence.

No sound. No blood-curdling scream. No gasp of pain. Not even a groan.

Just the silent dripping… dripping… drip… drip…

The avatar was frozen over Albion, staring at the small nation with wide eyes. His mouth was open but no sound came out.

Albion was panting, staring at the avatar over him, barely aware that his right hand was wet. It slowly trickled down his arm. Fell like droplets onto Albion's chest.

Suddenly the avatar let out a weak wheeze and choked on the fluid that was coming out of his mouth. Albion continued staring at the avatar, horror starting to take over as he realized what he had done.

He was shocked when the avatar let out a weak chuckle. The avatar gave Albion a toothy grin, his whole frame beginning to tremble.

"G-g…goo…ud..." The avatar managed to croak out, the light in his eyes disappearing as the body went completely limp.

Albion let out a shuddery breath, putting all the effort he could muster to push the lifeless body off of him. Albion sat up and stared blankly at the dead avatar, his mind blank with horror and disgust.

"I… I just killed…him" The cold realization washed over Albion, leaving the nation numb. He… had spilled blood. His hands were completely red with it. Albion stared at his shaking hands, seeing how red they were.

He was horrified by them.

Out of nowhere, laughter started bubbling within his chest. Laughter sprang out of his mouth, high-pitched and loud. Albion laughed and laughed, wrapping his bloody hands around his trembling body.

Albion continued laughing hysterically to the grey skies and he began rocking himself back and forth, tears rolling down his cheeks. A few broken sobs managed to escape his throat.

This was what it meant to be a nation.

This is what it meant to become an adult.

Red hands. Tainted mind. Shattered innocence.

The laughter continued.

---

A/N:

Err... not so much of a cliffhanger? Still, this has got to be one of my favourite scenes I've ever written. Don't go assuming I'm sadistic or something of the sort, but I really have a thing for those kind of memories. Yeah, I can hear some of you let out a breath of relief, you actually thought I was killing a character you knew? Hah, I myself don't even know the name of the avatar England killed. It wasn't even attached to a group of people, so his death is of little significance to the world. However, it is a major influence for England since it would really be his first time killing someone of his kind, killing something that resembles him. He didn't mean to kill, but he was forced to do it. England is not inherently evil, but early experiences like these sadly taught him that he had to be the most violent and fiercest of all the nations to stay on top. (which he managed quite well. I mean, he even beat the Auld Alliance despite being sandwiched between these two different nations. That seriously takes skill in my opinion) Hope you guys liked the last memory anyway, I'm quite proud of it. I really wanted to verbalize the madness a child feels when they kill for the first time. It sort of is based on my father who at the age of six had to start killing turkeys for the Christmas dinners. The assholes who called themselves his father and uncles told my father he had to do it or else there wouldn't be any Christmas dinner. Tell me guys, how would you feel being shut in the barn with a turkey and being told to simply kill it? AT THE AGE OF SIX? My father eventually figured that he had to twist the head of the turkey around till there was a resounding snap of the neck. But clearly the experience was horrifying to my father because nowadays he rarely has the courage of picking up fragile things, he's always sure he'll break it. *shakes head* Seriously, at the age of six, I thought that death was sleeping and at that age, my father was already killing. Honestly, doesn't anyone else find this disturbing?

A tiny note about the Heimlich Maneuver: I did some research and it does seem that some people actually thought that it was an effective way to help a drowning victim, considered to be as effective as CPR. But scientific research is very clear on this, it doesn't help. Don't try it.

And America takes another stroll into England's mind and meets the dark voice personally. Absolutely great, don't you agree? At least America now knows that the dark voice is really something dangerous and that should raise his protectiveness a few notches. Also, yeah, the dark voice did attempt to possess England. (and almost succeeded) I base this idea on an experience that happened to my mother. You see, whatever your beliefs may be, my family believes in spirits and ghosts. My father has heard the banshee twice in his life before. Spirits mostly communicate to me through nightmares. My sister and mother can sort of "see" spirits, but not with their eyes but with a kind of blind spot at the back of their head. We used to live in a house that wasn't haunted but it was near a graveyard and many spirits were attracted by the negative energy created by the disputes of my parents. My sister, already as a baby, would stare at stairs or corners of the room for the longest time and then start screaming and pointing. Even my father's disciplining of her didn't stop her outbursts, which ruled out the possibility that she was crying for attention. When she was three, I once asked her why she hated going down the stairs to the basement where our TV room was located. She could only tell me that "shadow people were looking at her." Many years ago, my mother was in a room and was extremely emotionally depressed. What England describes to you in the story, that's how it happened for my mother. She clearly felt something trying to push her out and take control of her body. She panicked and ran out of the house. It was an old house to begin with, and she later discovered that a widow had died horribly in that house. Vengeful ghosts aren't fun, and she warned me that if I ever felt depressed and that I felt something trying to push its way inside, run for it! Don't wait. I'm not sure what happens if possession is successful, but it certainly can't be pretty. (hah, try sleeping now)(come now, don't panic. Possessions aren't all that common and most spirits don't try to possess you. I would say there are actually very few of those hostile ghosts who actually attempt possessions)

Oh, and Choco La? Totally exists, I did some research on that shop because I had no clue whether hot chocolate was commonly sold in India or not. Apparently they do, just not as commonly as us. ^^ (we and Starbucks, tsk, tsk, tsk) Also, Portugal was originally going to appear in this chapter but the scene was boring, dry and England and Portugal weren't connecting, so I had to take him out. I'll try again later on, but I just don't think I have grasped Portugal's essence, which means I can't write him effectively enough. Give me some time to coax him out, I know I should be able to write him but he's being completely uncooperative with me. He even rejected the idea of being turned into a female, so I really don't know why he's being so reluctant to come out and allow himself to be written into the story.

Other than that, thank you for reading and look forward to the next chapter! In the next chapter, the dark voice will be going completely "mind-f*ck" on England, so see what will ensue from that. (the dark voice can be beaten, the answer to his defeat was mentioned here already ^^)