England was gone! Tul-La destroyed him so easily, as if he was a man made of sand...! Canada couldn't believe what his eyes had just witnessed, but when the idea sank into his brain, when he realized that England was dead, he was so shocked he covered his mouth—he wanted to cry, to scream of grief and rage, but standing there with his mouth covered was all he could do.
On the other hand, his brother America dropped on his knees, his throat sore from calling his once big brother in vain, from insulting and threatening Tul-La, realizing it was useless. And the realization made him crumble, mute and defeated.
It seemed like Tul-La was right. He couldn't save England, or anyone...He, the hero, could just stand there while SHE killed England.
And she, even tired from the fight, which had consumed too much of her energy and magic, grinned, as if his desperation gave her the comfort she needed. In her hands was a little ball of light, of red, blue and white colors.
From America, she turned her eyes to China, at her feet, as mute as the brothers and everyone else in the room were.
"Nations today are a bunch of pathetic fools, all of them. Having their support is like having none at all."
Only one dared to speak as Tul-La was talking. "Switzerland..." Qatar muttered to the one by her side. "What did Russia mean, when you took him away?"
"How can you be thinking about that after what..." Switzerland whispered, not taking his eyes off Tul-La, rigid as if someone had slipped ice cubes down his back.
"We, you and I, are made of something different." Tul-La caressed China's hair, while he looked at her in what she supposed to be a dumbstruck silence. "Relics from the past..."
"What did Russia mean, 'Remember what we did to Prussia'?" Qatar insisted.
"To hell with Prussia! Don't you see that she...?" Switzerland replied.
"Switzerland!"
"Durgh...Prussia, the former nation, the one the allies abolished in 1945 and lost his condition!"
"What do you mean, he lost his condition?"
"Meant to last, to be harder than life..." Tul-La continued.
"Don't you know what happens to a nation when they are stripped from what gives sense to their immortal life, when what we stand for disappears? Only flesh remains, and the sense..." Switzerland continued, and he went quiet suddenly, when, looking at Qatar's face, he realized what he had just said.
He spoke no more, considering his own words, what they implied.
Tul-La was a nation from thousands of years before...therefore...her people were long dead, integrated into the Eastern Europe nations! She could conquer all she wanted, but that didn't help the fact that she had been wiped out of existence and therefore she was a nation with nothing to call her own...What if...?
He had to make a plan and quick, now that she was so sure of her victory she was making the mistake of being overly confident. But was it sure that it was so? Well, sure or not, it was worth trying—what did they have to lose? They needed a plan, and he quickly worked on it. Tul-La would soon keep destroying friends and neighbors...But Liechtenstein! If something failed, Tul-La would punish him by harming his sister.
Qatar didn't waste time with doubts. Someone had to do something, quick. Enough people had died not to take chances as they came. Since Tul-La was distracted enjoying her victory over them, licking their lips at her latest kill, she sneaked through the dozens of stunned nations in the room, to the tables against the walls, on which rich ornaments owned by the British royal family were displayed. Clocks, vases, figurines...One of these, a tiny replica of Degas' Little Ballerina, was what Qatar grabbed. With it in hand, she made her way to Tul-La, hiding the figurine behind her back, holding her breath and minding her steps, even taking control of her thoughts, fearing she could detect any of them somehow...
"The only relic from the past here is you..." China dared to speak up, in that tense silence. His eyes were on the ball of light which was England's heart on the palm of her hand. "You are something barbaric that has no place here."
"What the world doesn't need is weaklings like you and like your friends. You don't have guts or ambition. You believe in that illusion that is peace. You think it is something grand. And all it does it making weaker generations with imaginary problems. Look at yourselves..."
Tul-La turned her eyes to England's heart in her hand too.
"At least this little wizard will be useful, feeding my magic..."
She opened her mouth wide, about to swallow the tiny ball of light, as she had done with so many others, when suddenly there was an explosion.
At least that was what all witnesses would swear they saw some time later.
The little light exploded, and Tul-La was sent to the ground.
And standing there, was England.
Was it England? At first, there were doubts about it. All people in the room saw nothing but features drawn in a cloud of shiny green smoke. It wasn't until moments later when they could clearly see it was their friend, standing there, his arms open, his eyes shining bright.
The apparition startled almost all nations present to the point many yelped. But—and most surprisingly— Tul-La did too.
"Tul-La!"
Tul-La, the great and powerful, let out a loud scream when she found England pushed her to the ground and looked at her from above, brighter and stronger than ever. She was seeing a ghost. Or worse: someone against whom her magic was useless.
"Do you think that is enough to destroy me?!" England spoke with a voice like coming from the depths of Hell, some unknown realm, deep, powerful.
"It can...It cannot be! You should be dead!"
"You should have known better than to underestimate me! I am GREAT BRITAIN! And I didn't earn that name for nothing! I never surrender! And less with a leech as pitiful as you!"
It was now or never. Qatar took deep breath and muttered a prayer to Allah for things to work fine or, at least, the pain to be brief.
Everyone was so shocked about England's resurrection that no one noticed Qatar approaching until she was on Tul-La, hitting her blow after blow with the ornament. Tul-La only let out a small gasp when the first hit made her stumble, and, on the ground, she took hit after hit without making a sound. Although her head was open, Qatar kept hitting her, until China grabbed her wrist.
"It's enough, Qatar, enough!"
Qatar wanted to tell him she just wanted to be sure, but words didn't come out.
Because...was it enough, really?
Sure it couldn't. Sure it was a trick. Tul-La was faking she was dead, and she would pounce on them any minute now.
But seconds passed and she didn't move. Her chest was not moving either.
Quite timidly, the nations slowly approached to the fallen witch. She didn't move. Her eyes were open, lost somewhere in the ceiling, and her lips parted. Her head rested on a pool of her own blood. China was the only one who dared to approach to her to place his fingers on her neck, to check her pulse. When he did, Tul-La dissolved in dust, and any doubt about her demise as well.
No one cheered.
All of them started making questions aloud: how was that possible?, she wasn't really a nations?, was she fooling all of them all along?, what the heck was happening?
"That was stupid and could have gotten all of us killed." Switzerland reprimanded Qatar, who was just standing there, surrounded by people who talked to her, thanked her, shook her hand and patted her shoulder.
"I..." Qatar muttered, looking at the blood on her hands, which was starting to vanish.
However, the Swiss smirked.
"But it also saved us all. Thank you."
"Well...Uh...Thanks? I almost pooped myself..." Qatar confessed, letting out a nervous giggle.
America approached England and when he was about to tell him something, ask him how he did that freaky apparition, so many things he didn't really know what to say, when England turned to him and looked at him with tears in his eyes.
"That was Sealand until some days ago..." England muttered, looking at that remained of Tul-La, which Romano was kicking.
America looked away. Maybe they didn't have the best relationship, but he didn't consider himself as cruel as to say something hurtful at that moment. After doing so much more to save the day than him. So all he did was place a hand on his shoulder.
England didn't reject the gesture. But, as always, America spoiled it all with his sudden yelling.
"What the hell is that?!"
He brought everyone's attention on the small threads of light which came out from Tul-La's ashes to the windows, through the walls, like escaping the palace.
England smiled softly.
"Our friends." He said. "They are free."
Thousands of miles away from London, civilians who had lost their nation were still praying. Praying for the tyrant to be defeated by the union of nations. For their beloved nations to come back. And somehow fear was replaced by a different feeling which took over their hearts. Hope. Relief. Almost as if they were sure their prayers had been listened to.
The French were some of the first who saw their wishes granted.
A family from the Provence, the Blancs, would declare in the news that they were at the porch, talking to their neighbors about the worrying news from England, when something caught their attention. The rosebuds planted at their door started shaking. Many of their petals fell. But the really unusual thing was that, from those dozens of petals falling, appeared a familiar figure.
Their nation, France.
France looked around feeling extremely confused, touched his head and his whole body, like not believing he had one again. Soon a smile grew on his face and harassed the family with questions, not noticing—or caring—that he was completely naked,
Soon similar news would come from all around the globe. Sweden coming down from a mountain, Germany rising from a bed of leaves, Hungary swimming at the Danube...; all of them as God had put them on this world.
And not so far away from the island, in the little platform which was Sealand, the prince would have noticed nothing being reunited with his family, which he found safe and sound, if it wasn't for Algonquin's call for attention.
Something was floating in the sea.
Gasping, the man quickly jumped on a boat and sailed there. When he arrived, the body was sinking, but he got to grab him. Thank goodness, Sealand was alive. His lungs were starting to fill with water, he was unconscious, but he was alive. And the way he used to look before Tul-La made him grow up, turned him into something monstrous. Calling his name again and again like a distressed father, the prince couldn't help crying as he embraced the naked, soaked and fainted boy.