Thanks to FerayEs for reviewing.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 136

Serbia and Macedonia made their way past the battles, towards where a figure was leaning against the wall, looking as though he didn't care that there were two enemies approaching. And Serbia wasn't at all surprised to see that it was Slovenia, or that he had a gun in his hand. Serbia gritted his teeth. Of all the times to only have a yataghan with him.

Though he didn't miss the way Slovenia eyed the blade. He wasn't sure what emotion crossed through Slovenia's eyes, but it made him shudder. Finally, he and Macedonia came to a stop about two metres away from Slovenia. Still, he didn't raise his weapon.

"You know, I'm impressed you managed to find this place," Slovenia said. "Rada, I'm sorry about this."

In one fluent motion, Slovenia aimed the gun and shot. Serbia cried out, partly out of surprise, but partly out of concern as Macedonia dropped to the ground. He couldn't check to see if she was still truly alive, since the gun could be aimed at him next, but to his surprise, Slovenia put it away.

"You can relax," Slovenia said. "Those are regular bullets. I just don't want her to interfere."

Serbia flinched when Slovenia revealed the sword he kept with him. Of course, it was a way of taunting him. Why else would he have a schiavonesca?

"I'll admit, I was happy when I learned that you were a part of Alvora," Slovenia admitted. "I've never liked you, but our orders were to get everyone in Yugoslavia and make them part of the fold, whether they wanted to or not. I was actually looking forward to seeing you break. But now I get to destroy you."

"Before I begin, tell me one thing," Serbia said. "Why exactly do you hate me? It can't be the Yugoslav Wars. You got out before the worst started."

Laughter bubbled from Slovenia's mouth, and Serbia tensed. Amusement and anger coalesced to become insanity.

"This has nothing to do with the Yugoslav Wars," Slovenia spat. "But, since you've brought it up, allow me to shed some light on the wars. Who do you think was the architect? Who do you think planted the seeds of discord among all the humans? Who do you think was laughing his ass off while you all destroyed each other?"

Serbia froze. He often thought back to that dark time. The arguments between them. But now he saw them in a new light. Slovenia rarely contributed to the arguments, but whenever he chimed in, the arguments only worsened. And the way some of the humans acted…

"You did it," Serbia whispered.

Slovenia's grin widened.

"And do you know what's better?" he asked. "While Bosnia was a blank slate, I made him listen to every single documentary and newscast about the war. Specifically, what you and Croatia did to him. You know, now that I think about it, that must be the reason why he's so obsessed with Herzegovina. Didn't your humans hurt them? Didn't they kill him? Didn't they assault her? He's probably scared that you're hurting her again when he can't protect her."

Serbia could only stare in horror. Slovenia was deliberately saying those things in that way. One of the most important points about Alvora was that the nations were not their humans. And those wars made him wish that he had joined Alvora sooner, if only to know how to influence his people to prevent all of that from happening. His attempts to stop his politicians were met with failure. And he couldn't look the others in the eye for a long time.

Before the wars, he was approached by Alvora and offered to join, but he declined at first. He spent years trying to mull it over, and eventually he confided in Kosovo, thinking that an innocent mind would help him put it in perspective. And his helplessness during the wars caused him to consider Alvora's offer. Canada was in the area around that time with his soldiers, and helped Serbia with the transition and also helped Kosovo get involved. And because of their closeness during that time, the two got even closer.

But for now he needed to focus on more important matters.

"Why?!" Serbia roared. "Why would you do that to us?!"

"First of all, because it was fun," Slovenia said. "And I wanted to destroy your self-image of this 'caring' brother figure. I wanted to show to you, and to everyone else, that you were nothing more than a joke with delusions of grandeur."

Serbia saw red. Not because Slovenia plotted the Yugoslav Wars because of Serbia's 'delusions of grandeur', but because of all the human lives lost, and the damages done to the relationship between all of them. He was angry because Slovenia involved the others and made them suffer.

Serbia didn't care about the reason why Slovenia hated him in particular anymore. All he cared about was punishing Slovenia for what he'd done. He raised his yataghan, and with a roar, launched himself at Slovenia.

…

Herzegovina had her ear pressed against the door and her hand over her mouth. Tears stung her eyes as the horror set in. She'd heard enough from Serbia and Slovenia's conversation.

She moved over towards the wall and slid down. Bosnia was still asleep, but she didn't know for how much longer. And if Slovenia spoke the truth, then it meant that the Yugoslav Wars were fresh in Bosnia's mind. And with it, the genocide.

It wasn't uncommon for nations to become victims of their conflicts. For them to be at the wrong place in the wrong time. It wasn't uncommon for them to become part of the statistics when looking at the death toll, or, as was more common for female nations, victims of another type of violence. For the women especially, they had to make a choice between getting to safety and fighting alongside their people. And Herzegovina, who was slightly less combat-inclined than Bosnia, made the wrong choice. She was overwhelmed by the Serbs and the Croats, who proceeded to show her what they thought of women on the battlefield.

She tried to hide it, but the others found out. And they were furious. Serbia and Croatia managed to track down the people responsible, but the damage was already done. Herzegovina still had nightmares from it. And their relationships became more strained. It was one thing for a nation to die during a conflict. It was another for a nation to be tortured in any way.

But still, they were no strangers to things like that.

And hearing the absolute glee in Slovenia's voice… She needed to get out of there. She couldn't stay in the same building as a psychopath like Slovenia. And somehow, she needed to convince Bosnia to trust Serbia, and that they needed to get far away from Slovenia.

She heard the clash of swords. She heard Serbia's furious cries. And she hoped that Serbia was the one that came out on top.

…

Montenegro tried another door while Scotland did the same to another door across the hall. She frowned when she realised that the door was locked. This wasn't the first door that she tried, but it was the first that was locked. She turned towards Scotland.

"I think I found it," she said. "It's locked. Do you think you could use your magic to unlock it?"

Scotland looked at her for a moment as he processed the request, before he walked over, cracking his knuckles. She winced when he did that. She'd always hated the sound. Slovenia tended to do it often, while Croatia only did it when he was annoyed or angry with her. And Serbia tried to avoid doing that unless it was absolutely necessary. Such as that one time when there was absolutely nowhere else for him to sleep and he slept on the floor. That was a lot of popping.

"No problem," Scotland said, grabbing the doorhandle. His hand glowed for a moment, and then he opened it like it was nothing. "Ladies first."

She didn't know if he was being polite or if he was mocking her, before remembering that he was British. Perhaps not as stuffy as England, but they were still brothers. So she decided that it was the former.

It was indeed the basement. The wooden steps creaked beneath her feet, and after the fifth step she had to stop to sneeze. The dust hung thick in the air.

There was just enough light to allow them to see the basement clearly. And there were no prisoners. There were, however, several chests, and when Montenegro opened one of them, she found nothing but clothes. Clothes that a museum would kill to acquire. They had to be at least a few hundred years old.

"Slovenia never struck me as the sentimental type," Montenegro said, pulling out a frock.

"Looks like the people we thought we knew keep surprising us," Scotland said. "Let's look around a bit more. Maybe there's something useful in one of these chests."

And so they started to rifle through the chests. Almost all of them contained nothing but clothes, though there was one with broken and dull weapons, and another contained wooden toys. Montenegro wondered how long Slovenia had been collecting these things, and what they meant to him.

"And I thought England was a packrat," Scotland muttered.

"Yes, well, these things do keep Slovenia sane."

The two spun around at the sound of the new voice. Montenegro took an instinctive step back when she saw Ireland, though his attention was focused on Scotland. He looked annoyed. Scotland stepped out in front of her, ready to protect her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Scotland said.

Ireland shrugged, a small smile on his face. Montenegro looked around the room again, and she remembered what the other nations had discussed about Requiem's brainwashing facility, and she gasped in realisation.

"Slovenia was brainwashed!" she exclaimed. "Wasn't he?"

"Yes and no," Ireland said. "By the way, you're a clever girl. We could use your sharp mind in Requiem. What do you say?"

Montenegro bristled.

"No thanks," she spat. "I would never join you as long as I have a say about it."

"You know, there is a way around it," Ireland pointed out.

Again, Montenegro bristled.

"And what about Bulgaria?" Scotland asked. "Was he brainwashed too? Is that why he's with you?"

This time, it was Ireland's turn to bristle.

"Not at all," he spat. "Neither of us was influenced. Back when Slovenia was under Venetian control, they called me in to help with his conditioning. Egypt was also called in, and he brought Dimitri along. We just connected. No outside influences."

"So, you used magic to get Slovenia to join your club?" Montenegro asked.

"To be fair, he was already pretty broken mentally. He especially had a problem with Serbia. Something about feeling betrayed when Serbia helped the Ottomans with their raids. All we did was focus his anger and bitterness on something productive. But there are a few hiccups with our members that we had to persuade. There are times when their minds crack a bit. These things are all things from Slovenia's past. Somehow, they act as an anchor for him. But don't worry. He's still capable of thinking for himself. He's not a puppet."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Montenegro snapped.

"Actually, no. You know, you're pretty strong, mentally speaking. We could use someone like you."

"He's just trying to get under your skin," Scotland interrupted. "At least that has never changed. Now then, I think we owe each other a rematch."

Ireland narrowed his eyes and sneered. Green flames appeared in both of his palms.

"We do," he agreed, before his gaze flicked towards Montenegro. "We'll finish this conversation later."

Montenegro had to step back again and cover her eyes as the basement was filled with green and blue light.

…

Croatia glared at Bulgaria, anger and hatred boiling in his core. As much as he hated taking orders from anyone, he hated being deceived even more. That was another reason why he'd been so snappy with Serbia recently. But above all, he hated being used, especially without his knowledge.

But more than that, he was afraid for Serbia. From the schematics, he knew that everything was focused around Serbia. And after the wars, Serbia was the one they all resented the most. This was all planned. And afterwards, Serbia tried to keep them together. He tried to be the ideal older brother. And they resented him for that.

And now, Croatia could imagine Slovenia in the background, laughing his ass off. He only looked at the schematics briefly, so he didn't know how intensely Slovenia planned everything and how successful those plans were, but the very fact that they were planned was enough for Croatia to utterly hate Slovenia.

"Bastard!" Croatia spat. "Why?! Why would he do that?!"

"You're really stupid, aren't you?" Bulgaria taunted. "The Yugoslav Wars were designed to split you up. Destroy the power you used to have. Make it so that you wouldn't have any loyalty towards Serbia. And when we recruit you, it would be easier to turn you against Serbia."

"That's like what the notes said," Haiti whispered. "You want Damjan dead, and you want to 'recruit' the others."

"Why?" Croatia demanded. "What did Damjan do that made Slovenia hate him so much?"

"Let's just say, the bitterness started back in the days of the Ottoman Empire," Bulgaria said. "And Serbia's failure to redeem himself for helping the Ottomans attack Slovenia. You know how it is, right? But then again, you were rarely on the frontlines, like Serbia was."

Croatia could only stare at Bulgaria as incredulous outrage made its way into his core along with the anger and hatred.

"Are you joking?" he demanded. "We were all kids! He can't hate Serbia because of what he did as a child who had to follow the orders of the empire that controlled him! And what about you? You were involved too!"

"But I made it clear to Slovenia that I was only playing my role," Bulgaria said. "And I more than redeemed myself in Slovenia's eyes."

"Bastard."

Bulgaria grinned, as though he considered the word to be a compliment. Croatia tensed, ready to attack. But Bulgaria didn't make any move to do so.

"You're very talkative," Haiti remarked. "And you keep looking towards the documents and cabinet. Am I right to assume that you don't want to damage Slovenia's true office?"

Bulgaria's grin fell, and Croatia got an idea. He grabbed the nearest documents, ensuring that they weren't the schemes for the Yugoslav Wars, and ripped the papers in half. Bulgaria flinched, before he glared at Croatia, who turned his attention towards the filing cabinet.

He yelped and flinched back when a gunshot echoed through the room, and the bullet hit the wall in front of him. He turned towards Bulgaria with wide eyes. Bulgaria was glaring coldly at him.

"That's enough," Bulgaria said. "Make one more move, and I will kill you."

Croatia froze. He knew about those bullets that Requiem used. And he didn't know if that gun had those bullets. He didn't want to take a chance, but he also didn't want to just roll over and submit.

Bulgaria's eyes widened as his hand started to tremble, before he dropped the gun. Croatia's eyes widened when the weapon went off. He looked over towards Haiti, whose eyes were glowing as his hands were outstretched towards Bulgaria.

"I have to stop you there," Haiti said. "Thank you for sharing so much information."

Bulgaria's eyes widened as he understood his mistake, and Haiti closed his hands into fists. Bulgaria was slammed against the wall, and after a few seconds of struggling, he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"We need to find Damjan," Haiti said.

"Before that, we have something else to focus on," Croatia said.

His hand was pressed against his side, and when he moved it, he showed Haiti the sticky red liquid. When the gun went off, Croatia was hit. And his body was growing numb.

…

Hungary blocked another strike from Prussia. His red eyes seemed to be flashing, and he looked as though he was desperate for her blood. But he wasn't cocky. He didn't taunt her, or brag about his 'awesomeness'. Hungary actually missed that about him. Still, her blood was pumping a cocktail of different hormones, namely adrenaline and endorphins. She was enjoying herself.

She didn't quite know why he was so angry with her, or out for blood, but she didn't really care. He was silent for once, and without the arrogance, his true skills as a swordsman shone brightly.

The hallway echoed three pairs of swords clashing. She knew that Serbia and Slovenia had started to fight. She saw it after spinning around after a dodge. And of course, Poland and Belarus were engaged not too far away. She tried not to have her back turned towards that particular battle. It would otherwise be too easy for Poland to see the opening and stab her in the back.

She and Prussia had their swords locked, not for the first time. She kicked him in the stomach, lamenting the fact that she didn't have any shoes on to bring more pain. The hallway was too narrow to successfully dodge many attacks, so all she could do was block, and in cases when she needed a moment to collect herself, she would have to buy time by striking Prussia in some way, such as she just did.

She glanced over towards Serbia and Slovenia's battle. She wondered what Slovenia had told Serbia. He was obviously angry, and that was his problem. Serbia didn't do well when he attacked in anger. Even though there was a fair amount of distance between them, Hungary could see that his attacks were sloppy, and Slovenia was still acting on the defensive. Until Serbia exhausted himself.

Prussia recovered, and she had to focus on her own battle. Unfortunately, it didn't seem as though Prussia was tiring himself out. And her attempts to taunt him were unsuccessful, so she stopped doing it.

So for now, she just needed to focus on a way to gain an advantage over Prussia.

The yataghan is an Ottoman sword that was used in the Ottoman Empire's territories, including the Balkans. The schiavonesca is a Serbian sword.

Also, Slovenia lied about the orders for the Yugoslavian nations. Everything involving them falls on Slovenia and Bulgaria's shoulders. But Serbia doesn't know that. Slovenia just wants to break Serbia in any way he could think of.

It's been mentioned before that a few of Requiem's members were patients of the Washroom, or were subjected to something similar from the magical nations before the rooms were created. Slovenia's hatred for Serbia is essentially childish bitterness that was amplified by other people messing with his mind, and changing the way his mind operates.

I also had to spend quite a bit of time skimming through the histories of Serbia and Slovenia from the Middle Ages. I wanted to go further back than the twentieth century. It has to do with my philosophy that history is more than the events of the last century, and while recent history influences humans, it's still possible to go back far enough to see the factors that led to the factors that led to the factors that led to current events. The nations in particular, who've lived for several centuries and who could have possibly experienced the factors of the factors of the factors, would find more reasons to look further back into the past for issues with other nations.