Dro: One chapter away from 50, guys. Longest story I've ever written. And it's not over yet. I'm going to say you have another good...15-20 more chapters left. The final battle scene is incredibly long and complicated. Anyway, please do read and review, like you usually do!
Chapter Summary: Ivan awakens to a surprise. France awakens to a very different surprise.
Warnings: Language
Disclaimer: Nope, haven't acquired the rights to APH since last chapter. Sadly.
Ivan rolled over, groaning loudly. Why did this keep happening to him? Where he would he be slung next? Into a vat of acid? A pit of spikes? He sat up, trying to ignore his throbbing body. His back was on fire, and he felt like his muscles had been ripped to shreds. He wanted to lay back down and sleep, just so he wouldn't have to feel the pain, but he knew he had to get back up. He'd already been unconscious for…how long? He didn't know. One second he'd been standing there, the next he'd been hitting a door. He rubbed his temples, trying to assuage the pain from a massive migraine. He attempted to stand, but his back was injured, and he was forced to lean against the wall.
When he finally made it out into the hallway, he realized he was alone. Britannia and Alfred were nowhere to be seen, and Ivan cursed himself. First, he'd let Matvey get taken back by that bastard, then he'd let him get possessed, and now Britannia had Alfred as well. Ivan swore he would get revenge on that bastard, no matter what it took. But he knew in the back of his mind that, at this rate, he would die long before any vengeance came upon Britannia. The nations were too weak. Far too weak. Britannia was still just toying with them. He had the power of a god in his hands, and he was manipulating them like mischievous puppeteer. He had no care at all for their pain and suffering. He was vindictive and sadistic and downright insane.
"Ivan?"
Ivan froze.
That he had just heard that voice was impossible. He had seen the body itself. He had stood over it, checked its vitals. So there was no way the person that body belonged to could be up and walking around. And yet, he was sure he had just heard that voice, and he found himself deathly afraid of turning around. Either there were also ghosts walking around on the ship, Ivan himself had died and did not know it, or…
He turned.
Feliciano stood in the hallway, a worried frown on his face. "Are you injured? Do you need help?"
"F…Feliciano…y…you…"
"Yeah. I'm alive now. I know." He walked up to Ivan with complete nonchalance and lightly touched the man's back. Ivan hissed in pain. "I thought so. Let me heal you." Feliciano's hand touched his chest. Ivan was filled with warmth. The sharp pain from his previous healing was non-existent, and the worst pain he felt was a dull tingle in his spine. He shuddered at the sudden heat inside of him, his eyes slipping shut as a sense of peace overcame him. Then it was over, and his eyes snapped back open to peer down at those bright brown eyes, once more alive and vibrant. How in God's name had…?
Feliciano seemed to read his mind. "I don't have time to explain. Just help me find my brother. I have something important to tell him. And before you ask, no, I can't tell you what it is. I've blocked my mind from Britannia, but you don't have the magic to do so, so I can't risk telling you anything. Just trust me."
Ivan nodded dumbly. He'd never been so confused in his life, but he allowed himself to be tugged along down the hallway by Feliciano. It was Feliciano. He knew it was without question. But how had the boy come back? As far as Ivan knew, you couldn't just come back to life, so had Feliciano managed to…? What else was going to happen on this ship? Mind control. Possession. God-like power. Resurrection. Ivan was honestly expecting the world to explode at any second.
"Do you have any idea where my brother is?" Feliciano asked.
Ivan shook his head. "I don't even know what floor I'm on. Britannia showed up after Matvey and I met up your brother, Gilbert, France, and Spain. He tossed me out of a window. Alfred saved me."
Feliciano stopped cold. "Alfred? Matthew?" His eyes widened. "What's been happening since I…died?" He seemed to choke on the word.
Ivan tried to explain as quickly as he could everything he knew. Feliciano paled at the mention of Britannia's possession of Matthew. Then they were off again, Feliciano doing something with his magic that apparently allowed him to locate Romano. They located a set of stairs and headed up three flights. The moment they pushed open the door, they knew they'd found the right place. Sound burst all around him. The sound of battle.
Lucaster was fighting Romano, and Siphone was terrorizing Gilbert, who was attempting to protect a wounded Spain. Feliciano sprung into action. Before Ivan could even register what was happening, Siphone was thrust into a wall, through a wall, and she landed lifelessly on the other side. The fight seemed to dissipate in an instant. Romano stared at his brother in utter disbelief. Gilbert's face was contorted in shock. Spain didn't seem to notice anyone's presence, his face covered in blood. Feliciano turn on the pads of his feet to face Lucaster, who was angrily snarling at the revived Italy.
"I thought you were dead."
Feliciano's expression—hard, determined, and totally composed—did not change. "You were wrong."
Lucaster lunged for him, teleporting half of the way through. But Feliciano was faster. Much faster. And much stronger. He teleported in a millisecond, landing a harsh kick to Lucaster's stomach. The man flew backward to the end of the hallway, bouncing off the floor several times until he slid to a stop. He struggled to get back up, his face bloodied and his arm hanging limply at his side. He seemed to know he was out-matched, and he willed himself to Siphone, grabbed her, and vanished.
Silence descended on the hallway. Romano stared at Feliciano, numb. Gilbert seemed to be at a loss of what do. Spain was obviously suffering from his wounds. Feliciano turned to him first and crouched down next to him, touching his chest like he'd done to Ivan. Antonio gasped, and they all watched, amazed, as the nasty gash on his forehead closed itself, forming back into perfectly smooth skin. As soon as he pulled his hand away, Spain sighed, and Feliciano rose to his feet again, facing Romano.
He smiled. "Fratello."
Something seemed to break inside of Lovino, and the next moment he was embracing his brother, face pressed Feliciano's shoulder, sobbing loudly. Feliciano held him tightly, whispering comforting words in his brother's ear. Ivan still stood in the doorway, stunned. Feliciano was stronger than he'd been before his death. Much, much stronger. How had that come about? The mystery surrounding Feliciano's return just seemed to grow and grow, and Ivan felt like he was missing something major. He'd had the brief—terrifying—thought that perhaps Feliciano's body was being possessed by Britannia, but he knew that wasn't the case. Britannia's control of Matthew had been obvious. It had been Matthew's body but not his mind, and all his expressions and mannerisms were nonexistent. Feliciano was acting like himself, like he'd been since he'd finally recovered from the initial attack.
But if Britannia wasn't possessing him, then why was he alive? Was this another one of Britannia's games? Or was there another force at work here? Ivan wasn't sure he honestly wanted the answer. Resurrection couldn't possibly be a good thing. It was a deviation from nature, which meant there had to have been some magic involve. Some powerful magic. Ivan shivered at that idea. He was tired of magic, tired of this force that could act upon him without his consent. It wasn't like fighting a regular battle, where the strongest and the most cunning was the victor. This was like playing a game of chess with a gun pressed to the back of your head and a blindfold over your eyes. The moment you moved a piece in the wrong direction, the gun went off. And there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop it. Nothing at all. You yourself were just another pawn in the game.
Ivan surveyed the tear-filled scene of joy with apprehension. Gilbert and Antonio had joined in on the embrace, and…wait, where was Francis? Ivan's eyes scanned the area, not finding the Frenchman anywhere in sight, so he voiced his question. "Where has France gone to?" This seemed to break Gilbert out of his trance. He frowned and shook his head.
"We don't know. He vanished a while ago. Just…gone. One second he was there, and the next, he wasn't. One of the them probably took him." Gilbert's remaining eye shifted to the floor. "In all likelihood, he's dead by now."
"No." Feliciano released his hold on Lovino. "He's alive. All of us are, as far as I can tell." His eyes seemed to be looking elsewhere, as if he had an omniscient view of the ship. "Britannia is playing us, baiting us into traps. But he's not playing seriously. He's doing this for enjoyment. And to fix what's gone wrong for him so far, that is, losing his hold on Alfred and Matthew. Ivan told me he had another run in with Britannia, him and Alfred, and Britannia took Alfred with him."
Gilbert turned back to Ivan. "You were with Alfred?" He seemed to realize for the first time that Ivan wasn't injured. "He saved you when you fell?"
Ivan nodded. "Da. He caught me as I was falling past the level he was on. Pure luck."
Gilbert sucked in a breath and released it in a harsh sigh. "Well, all right then. So what's the plan, Feli?"
Ivan was surprised that Gilbert passed the reins so easily. Prussia had never been a nation to give up control. Then again, Ivan mused, he was not Prussia anymore. And Feliciano, though still Italy, wasn't the same man he had always been. He gladly stepped up and took those reins into his hands.
"First, I have a few things I need to tell Lovino in private. Then I want us all to regroup. Splitting up into teams worked for getting here, but we only seem to have a few different enemies to fight. Alfred may or may not count. According to Ivan, Britannia has the ability to possess people, and he did it to Matthew. If my theory is correct, I believe Britannia intends to use Matthew as leverage to get Alfred to work for him even though he's broken form the man's influence. In which case, Alfred is still technically on our side. We'll have to work this out carefully. But first, we just need to get the entire group together. I don't want to risk anymore lives unnecessarily. Letting non-magic users fight Siphone and Lucaster with no one to back them up is a bad idea. Do we have any clue where the other groups my be?" He directed the question at Gilbert.
Gilbert shook his head. "We've been searching for both China and Japan and the Nordics, but we haven't found anyone yet. We think Lucaster and Siphone's attacks were made specifically to spread us out more."
Feliciano frowned deeply. "Figures. Well, then let's get back to searching. The most important thing right now is to keep everyone safe."
Antonio, Gilbert, and Lovino nodded enthusiastically and began following Feliciano down the hallway. Ivan hesitated. The last statement that Feliciano had spoken had sounded…wrong. As if he was saying it to please the others as opposed to actually meaning it. Ivan saw no underlying malice in Feliciano's demeanor, but there was something else going on that he was ignorant to, and Ivan couldn't help but wonder if it had to do with that "something" that Italy couldn't tell him about. Just what did Feliciano know that he didn't?
Francis's head pounded. He groaned softly, closing his eyes as the light assaulted him. There was no mystery about why he was in pain. He remembered very well what he had said that had prompted Britannia to sling a heavy metal object as his head. Personally, he was surprised he wasn't dead. He was sure that had been the end right then and there. But no, he was alive and awake, as terrible as he felt. And where was he? He dared to open his eyes again, trying to ignore the sharp stinging in his eyes as the light flooded into them. He stared at a ceiling that looked too plain to be an indicator of a specific place, but in his periphery, he caught the edge of a bookshelf that lined the wall, and he immediately recognized the place.
Britannia's office.
He was laying one of the couches. Between him and the other couch, there was a coffee table. He remembered the arrangement from when he had been "escorted" here earlier. He absent-mindedly turned his head to peer at said table, only to see Mathieu asleep on the opposite sofa. Matthew was covered with a white coat, his face peaceful. He felt an immense wave of relief wash over him. His boy was okay. Of course, his mind was likely still corrupted, but at least he was physically fine. As far as Francis could tell.
His eyes started to survey the rest of the room. Everything looked perfectly organized until he got to Britannia's desk. Where Britannia was heavily making out with Alfred. Francis felt his stomach drop into an endless pit. Britannia was perched on his desk, his legs wrapped tightly around Alfred, holding him in place as he kissed the larger man fiercely. His hands were on Alfred's face, cupping and stroking the cheeks as his lips continue to ravage Alfred's mouth. Tongues would appear and vanish every few second. When Britannia finally pulled away, they were both breathless.
Britannia smiled at Alfred, twisting a lock of his blond hair. Francis couldn't see Alfred's expression for Arthur's hands, but he could certainly hear both sides of the conversation well enough. "Tell me again, Alfred." Britannia whispered against Alfred's frowning swollen lips. "Who do you serve?"
"You." Alfred replied. "You and only you." His voice was dull and low, as if he'd had all the life sucked out of his body and was a walking husk of a man.
What was happening? What exactly was it that Francis had woken up to? Alfred was supposed to be free from Britannia's control, so…so what was this? What was this oath of loyalty? Alfred wasn't acting like himself either. He was acting distraught. He seemed to be shaking, and Francis could see his lips quivering. His eyes immediately snapped back to Mathieu. It had to be. Britannia was forcing Alfred to listen to him by threatening Mathieu. Francis was sure he felt even worse now. It had been one thing to know both brothers had fallen under the influence of Britannia. It was another to know that one was and that the other was being forced to comply because of it.
"Good." Britannia kept twirling Alfred's hair. Then he abruptly let Alfred go and stared straight at Francis. "Now that we've cleared that up, we can get back to business. I do believe you have some orders to carry out, Alfred."
Alfred winced. "Y-yes."
"What were they again?"
"…Kill them."
"Kill who?" Britannia was still staring at Francis. And smiling.
Alfred was shaking uncontrollably now. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "The nations."
"How many of them?" Britannia sang.
"…"
"Alfred…" Britannia warned.
"…All of them."
"And will you do it?"
A tear slid down Alfred's cheek, and his eyes lingered on his unconscious brother.
"Yes."
Dro: Second story I've written where you've picked Matt over everyone else, Alfred. -shakes head- Oh well.
Next Chapter: Matthew wakes up, confused, and is forced to deal with more of Britannia's antics. Until something goes horribly wrong.
