Author's Note: As a caution: some vague mentions of overdosing and death. No one actually dies, just foreboding of death (since Wales' visions are usually just about danger and depressing stuff).

England woke up and almost freaked out when he found himself not on the floor of his flat. He remembered falling to the ground, unable to move as the ambrosia spread through his system like poison. It was not a pleasant feeling.

He closed his eyes. His head hurt terribly. Through the pain, the events of the past week came back to him and he calmed down some. He was home and his mind was intact at long last.

The first thing he did was change out of the sweatshirt he was forced into by his brothers and into his usual formal attire. Then he looked at the sweatshirt; it was the same one Wales got him for Christmas a few years back.

'How the bloody hell did they find this?' he thought as he folded it up nicely and placed it on the bed. He never really liked sweatshirts, but he did have to admit it was soft and warm. Not that he was going to wear it again any time soon.

England walked out of the room. He wasn't exactly sure what to do with himself, so he headed for the kitchen. He could do with a cup of tea.

"Aye, so how about you calm down? We can talk more at the world meeting." England ran into Scotland, who was on the phone. Scotland noticed England right away, "Look, Finland, let's talk later. I don't have the time right now." Scotland hung up the phone and looked at England. "You're up."

England nodded. "Where's everyone else?"

"In the kitchen. Australia's telling stories about his adventures in the outback."

England nodded. He had heard a few of them, but not from Australia directly. It was always second hand.

"You do know who he is, right?" Scotland asked.

"Yes, I do. I think I'm back to normal. My head is at least clear now."

"Good." Scotland grabbed England by the shoulder. "You are going to explain yourself then."

Before England had any time to react, he felt himself being swung over Scotland shoulder and carried over to the kitchen. England felt it was completely unnecessary to do this, but regardless he let it happen. Last thing he wanted was to be seen as a child.

England was plopped at the head of the kitchen table. Everyone was gathered there, with Australia moving to be apart of the new audience.

"Go on," Scotland growled as he sat next to Wales, "What happened? Why the fuck were you playing around with ambrosia?"

England sighed. He didn't want to do this first thing in the morning, but when Scotland gave anyone that stare that he was giving England at that moment, let's just say no one argued against it. England took a few moments to adjust himself and get his thoughts together.

England kept his head held high throughout the entire meeting, even though his hands were shaking. As papers were signed, he could feel pieces of himself being taken out of him. It was painful, but he couldn't let anyone see it. That would be even worse. He was the last to sign; the last twist of the knife. The second he was let go, he ran into a private room and screamed his head off to relieve the pain. Tears were falling from his face and he sank to the floor in agony. He wished that he could have just been slain in battle. It would have been easier than dying from the inside.

"I was in pain after the dissolution. Physical pain. A huge portion of myself was ripped away and there was nothing left in that void. It died down throughout the day to a point where it was manageable. And I thought that would be the end of it… however, the pain got worse at night. I couldn't sleep and the pain was unbearable."

"You should have said something," Wales pointed out.

England glared at Wales. "According to past experience, I didn't think any of you would take me seriously. In the past, there was the whole mentality of just getting over it and moving on. And I tried to do so. I really did. To keep calm and carry on because life moves forward anyway. The pain got worse, and in my dreams I kept reliving my past." He did have one comfort during that time: Victoria.

England had met Victoria about a year prior, when he had moved back to his flat in London. The talks of possible dissolution were in the air, and England could feel a certain shift in the air.

"Goddamn it!" a girl with long brown hair cursed outside of the building.

"Something wrong?" England asked.

"It's this stupid key…" the girl said as she kept fiddling with the key in the lock, "I've been having trouble with it since I got here and my landlord refuses to get me a new one. He can make it work, apparently."

England had a go with the girl's key, and found it nearly impossible to work. "Here, take mine. I think I'll have better luck with getting a replacement than you will."

"Thanks… Are you new to the building? I haven't seen you here before."

"Sort of. I've lived here before back during…" England cut himself off, fake coughing. "Come on, I'll make you some tea if you aren't busy. What's your name?"

"Victoria. And you?"

"Arthur." As the two of them went to his flat and he got tea prepared, England couldn't help but be reminded of a certain girl a few centuries ago who went by the same name.

"So, what are you doing here in London?" Arthur asked.

"I'm in uni studying history. I'm not sure what I want to do with it, but I love history and listening to stories of the past."

"What got you to pursue history?" Arthur brought the tea pot over to the table.

"I loved hearing the stories my grandparents would tell. And whenever I'd hear a story from them, I'd go look up the context of some of the stuff they'd mentioned. It's a lot of fun… How about you? Why are you in London."

"I'm… something like an ambassador. It's easier for me to stay in the city right now than go home."

"Are you busy then?" Victoria asked, "Because of all the talk of dissolution?"

England nodded, "I will be soon enough." It was the tension. The build up. It was the same as waiting around the eve of battle, knowing the chaos to come. "Say, if you ever want help with your studies in history, let me know. I know a great deal about the subject and can help you."

England never told Victoria of who he was, but he did tell her of what he learned through his "job", which intrigued her. They would spend hours talking and discussing history. When the dissolution happened, he found these talks to numb the pain of it for a time, but never for long.

"I knew I needed sleep or at least something to properly take care of the pain. I looked everywhere for something, and tried anything I could get my hands on. And then I found the ambrosia, hidden in the sewers under London, which…" England looked at Scotland, "If memory serves me correctly, you were the one to deal with it last… why there of all places? It was not even well hidden."

"I think a better question is why you were down in the sewers in the first place," Scotland said gruffly.

England crossed his arms. "You first."

"Guys," Canada said after a very long period of uncomfortable silence, "Please."

England sighed. "I remembered what ambrosia did before when that man had originally been using the stuff. I was desperate enough to give it a try. After all, it's not like I could die from it. And it was the relief that I needed… for a time. But… as the drug goes, in order for the effect to have the same hold, I needed to take more." There was more to it, but he really didn't want to talk about it. Leading up to the days he overdosed, he was depressed and slept a lot, his dreams being memories of his younger days when he was alone in the forest. Lost. Just as he was now. "I think you can figure out the rest."

When England was done, he waited silently for his judgment from his family. There was silence for a long time, until Ireland, of all people, spoke up. "As much as I still hate you, and that probably won't change any time soon, I get it. But… you can't bottle it up. That's what gets you mental." Ireland paused for a few moments, his lips pursed in thought "…you gave all of us quite a scare."

Wales nodded, "I agree. I'm not saying that I'm ok with what you did, only that I understand the reason why. I'll try to be more open for you, though. I don't want you to think that you can't talk."

"You are a stubborn idiot," Scotland said, "And if you ever do this again, I promise I will invade your country and take it over." His serious face broke into a smile when he was done, and England knew that he was only kidding… slightly. England sure wasn't about to test how serious the threat was any time soon.

"We should visit each other more often," Northern Ireland said, "And just talk. I know phones are more of a thing, but there are some things that can't be said over a phone."

"I'm with North on that one, mate," Australia said with a smile, "It's about time you started visiting me for personal reasons. I can give you a tour of my country anytime!"

Canada nodded in agreement, "I guarantee that there are plenty of places in mine that you never realized existed."

Everyone looked at America, who hadn't said a word. He had his arms crossed and was looking away from England. He had a sulky look on his face. He eventually looked at England and said, "I'll only forgive you if you actually apologize."

England closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His pride was gone, and he knew it would be a long time to regain it. If he ever would again. "I'm sorry," England said quietly.

"I can't hear you."

"I'm sorry, wanker! Ok?"

America nodded, and gave England a bear hug. England could feel tears on his shoulder where America's head was. Don't you know how hard it is to see your role model be torn apart? "I'm sorry, Alfred," England whispered, using America's human name for once, "I didn't realize how much this would affect you."

Once they broke away, Ireland coughed for attention, "Can I talk with you, Arthur? Alone?"

England nodded, but warily. They walked out into the hall. England could hear conversation being sparked again, starting with Australia, but he couldn't tell what was being said.

"So… what is this about?" England asked.

Ireland looked over England for a moment before putting out a hand. "I want a truce. At this point in time, I know I can't forgive you. But I also know that nothing can change while things remain the same between us. I want us to be brothers again."

"And what brought this up?"

"Mum." Ireland then proceeded to tell England what happened the previous night. Not everything, just the important bits.

"I guess that would explain why my head's back to normal. So," England looked down at Ireland's hand, "If we're going to be brothers again, this means that you can't get mad at me for making fun of you now, right?"

"Piss off," Ireland said, but with an evil grin on his face, "That's a two way street you know."

"It's only fair."

The two of them shook hands. Sparks flew from that connection, binding the agreement between them both. Enough was enough. Ireland could never forget the past, but they could at least being working with the future.

88888

America twirled his stylus around as he tried not to be invested in what Canada and Wales were doing in the room. He tried to make himself look like he was busy with work. He should have been busy with work, but how could anyone focus on that when there were more exciting things going on. Even if America didn't want to have anything to do with magic, a part of him really wanted to watch.

"I can get the spell to work fine," Canada said, "It's just after casting it, everything looks purple." America glanced up and saw that Canada's eyes were glowing violet.

"That's normal," Wales said. He put his hands on Canada's shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. "This happens all the time. It's just the magic coming out. It's a good thing that it's only through glowing eyes. It means you have control over your magic. I'd be a little more worried if it was sparks."

America remembered the gifts that Britannia had given him the night before. Why would he need either one of those things? If he just not tamper with magic, there would be no issue of controlling it. It just wouldn't bubble up, like it had done all his life.

"So what do I do then?" Canada asked.

"Wait… I know it's not the greatest solution, but it's the safest way to deal with it. Do you have sunglasses?"

"Yeah, but in all fairness, sunglasses inside look stupid."

"Only if you don't need it," Wales shrugged, "Now, there is plenty of space in the book for you to write your own spells, should you want to do that. Experimenting can be complicated and dangerous at times, so it really is entirely up to you."

"How dangerous can it get?"

"Well… let me put it this way, I'm surprised the number of time England hasn't blown himself up."

That made America snicker a bit.

"So, what you're saying is that his cooking is more lethal than his magic," Canada said, grinning. "Gotcha."

"No, his cooking is fine. Honestly, I don't understand why…" Wales suddenly stopped talking.

"Wales?"

America looked up. Wales was standing there, frozen, his eyes glowing turquoise. He stood up and walked over to Wales. "Hey, are you ok?"

Wales didn't answer. His eyes darted back and forth. He was seeing something, but America had no idea what it was.

"Wales, answer me!" America grabbed Wales by the shoulders.

Visions passed in front of America's view. Switzerland was standing up in the middle of a world meeting, pointing over at Prussia. "I would trust him with nothing less than a 9 meter pole!" He looked quite put off. "It won't work with him in charge of it." Then, it was raining in the middle of a graveyard, where Prussia's body was put to rest. Germany stood over it, solemn, but that was only a mask and even America knew that. "Odd that the body hasn't faded," England said quietly, leaning to Wales. "Happens when the death is not natural," China responded with equal discreetness. Then, the scene shifted to inside a hotel lobby, where America and Russia were shouting down each other's throats. The words were not easily discernible as the high ceiling made every word echo. The lights above started to flicker, then turn off completely. There was a scream not too far off. The scene transitioned to another funeral, except the person in the casket this time was America. There were dried tears on England's face, and Canada was an emotional mess. Massachusetts tapped Wales' shoulder and handed him a magnificent sword that had the name "Excalibur" engraved on the hilt. "This, I believe is yours," she said solemnly. "I only got about three sounds from Matthew about this. What happened?" Wales asked, turning his attention to Massachusetts. "Matt did what he thought was best. America was possessed, and Matt tried to exorcise whatever was controlling him. You can see…" America closed his eyes, and shook his head. When he opened them again, he was back in England's house, staring at Wales' whose eyes were finally fading back to normal. America took his hands off Wales' shoulder immediately. "What just happened?"

Wales groaned and messaged his forehead. "Visions."

"Are you ok?" Canada asked.

"Yes… I'll be fine. I haven't had one that bad in a while."

"So they aren't always like someone pressing the fast forward button during a movie?" America asked.

Wales looked surprised, which in turn surprised America. He hadn't seen this guy break much from a causally solemn face. "You saw?" Wales asked.

America nodded.

"No, they are usually never like that," Wales answered, "I have seen it before a few times. Once when I was taking a very difficult challenge, once while you were fighting England for independence, and a few times during the world wars."

Canada looked extremely worried. "So… what happens now?"

"That depends on how things fall. There is one thing I know I can do about."

America looked at Wales, "And what is that?"

Wales didn't say anything. Rather, he picked up his phone and called someone. "Hello, Switzerland. It's Wales… Yes, I was wondering if you can do me a favor. It's going to be an odd request, and I will owe you for it, but the next world meeting, give Prussia the benefit of the doubt… Yes, you heard me correctly… I told you, I would owe you if you do this for me. At least consider it… Ta." Wales looked at his phone once the conversation was finished.

"What was that for?" America asked. He remembered what he saw… but what was Switzerland so pissed at Prussia for in the first place. Well, more than usual; Switzerland didn't like Prussia all that much.

"We'll find out, won't we?" Wales said, "And pray all will work out in the end." Wales looked at America and Canada for a few moments before saying, "Please, take this piece of advice, both of you: don't mess around with things you don't know about."

"Where's the fun in that?" America asked, half joking.

"And that's what I'm worried about. At least do some research first. It could be the difference between life and death."

Taliesin came into the room, right up to America. It looked up at the nation from the ground, and flicked its tongue menacingly.

"And what do you want?" America asked. He had just about enough of this little devil of a creature.

The dragon blew some smoke, then climbed up America and perched itself on America's shoulder.

"Does this mean you've forgiven me for whatever I did?"

Taliesin licked America's cheek with his tongue, which felt like wet sandpaper. Tentatively, America petted Taliesin's head and for once, there was no attempt on the dragon's part to bite America's hand.

"I think he might have seen what you did for that lake," Wales explained, "I don't know what got him riled up before, but at least it's resolved now."

"And of course you can't talk, so we have no way of knowing."

Taliesin crawled down America's arm, and put a claw on America's hand.

88888

England peaked into the hall, looking to see if anyone was there. No one. Quietly, he went over to the main house phone that rested in an old glass telephone box and dialed up the operator. He had been meaning to do so all day, but his brothers had been watching him like a hawk. 'It's not like I'm incapable of functioning on my own,' he thought as he waited for his call to be picked up.

"What are ye doin' now?" Scotland asked, walking up behind England.

England snapped around. "You are not the boss of me." Finally someone picked up. He held up a finger to Scotland as he told the receiver, "Yes, can you connect me to Antonio Fernandez Carriedo?"

"You are still not to full health, so yes, I am."

England groaned. "My health is fine, thank you very much. Besides, I'm just checking up on a friend… at least I think we are friends now."

"Why?"

"…I want to make sure he made it out alright."

Scotland raised an eyebrow. "You saw him?"

"We were in this reoccurring dream together. I know, I know… never trust things in the dream realm, but I have this feeling that it really was him and not just a figment of my imagination. I just want to make sure he is ok."

'After all,' England thought as he waited on the line for Spain to pick up, 'An explosion is nothing to laugh at.'

The call went through. "And what the fuck do you want?"

It took England a moment to work out who it was: Romano. He sounded pissed… well, more pissed than usual. "…is Spain there?"

"Who is this?"

"England."

The phone got shuffled around. "England's on the phone," Romano said to someone else, "Do you want to talk to him?" More phone shuffling and England heard a door slam.

"Hola?" Spain asked. He sounded a tad bit confused. England couldn't tell if it was because of him or Romano.

England took a deep breath and a leap of faith, "Hola, Captain of the Asunción. How are you feeling?" He hoped that Spain would understand the message, being that England used the name of the ship they were on in the dream.

Spain chuckled, "You know, for all that time we were there together, you never told me the name of the one that sunk. I hope it wasn't an important one."

"They were all important." England rolled his eyes a bit. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. How about you?"

"I've been worse. I just wanted to call to make sure you were alright."

"To make sure it all happened, right?"

"Yeah…" England felt relieved, sort of. But now it brought another question to mind, "About the explosion… what exactly were you doing?"

"Ah, that. I can't tell you."

England raised an eyebrow. He looked at the phone for a moment in confusion before asking, "Why?"

"At least not now. I want it to be a surprise for the world meeting."

"You'll be able to make it?"

"I should, if Romano will actually let me out of bed."

"Alright, but if you can't make it, you have to tell me."

"I will, I will. I owe you that much."

"Is it something good?"

"Si, very good. All I ask is for you to hear me out when I explain. Comprende?"

"Fair enough." England was now completely intrigued as to what Spain had done. "Though I have a bad feeling about this."

"Don't. Please, trust me. I will see you Monday."

"Spain, wait," England said quickly, "Before you hang up… Thank you, for helping me out. I don't think I would have come back without you." England felt that he would have kept falling further and further into his mind if it weren't for Spain.

"Alright, who are you and what have you done with the real England?"

"I mean it, Spain. Also…" England had no idea what he was saying, but he was rolling with it, "This is going to sound so bloody weird, but …are we friends?"

"After all that happened, I think we can say we are."

"But… can we come to each other in times of need? Can we trust each other?"

'That is the definition of friendship, right?' England wondered as he waited for Spain's reply.

"You know, I've had to tell this to Francis and Gilbert. I can never trust you as England, but then again, who can? But I can trust you as Arthur Kirkland."

England smiled. "Never tell America's states you said that. I know at least 13 of them who would heartily disagree."

That made Spain laugh, "Don't worry. I'm in a similar boat with a few South American countries. This can stay between us."

A friend, outside of the family. A true friend not made out of any political gain. Something personal, which his boss couldn't do anything about for once. "Thank you, Antonio."

Author's Note: As to why Scotland was talking to Finland at the beginning of the chapter: Finland initiated, trying to get a hold of England because of Sealand. The micronation is fine, however since he was a British base, and Great Britain in this story has been dissolved, who gets to claim Sealand? And of course, Sealand is all excited because this, in an odd technicality, does make him his own nation (as far as little Sealand is concerned). More to come as this develops.
Wales' visions in this chapter are a sneak peak at some of the stuff to come. Not that everything in it will come to pass (I promise I won't kill off Prussia, because that is just rude) however it is insight to the conflicts that are to come.