"Listen, Holy Rome—" Arthur's breath hitched. "Look, look at me."

The small child looked up, his skin-see through and cracked, a black void filling the holes throughout his body. Deep scars ran through his forehead and exposed skin, blood dripping off still open wounds. "Truth be told, you're getting irritating."

Holy Rome blinked. "Irritating? H-how?"

"Because I'm the only one who can see or hear you and you're so depressed it's making me feel bad!" Arthur sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead and rubbing gently. "So I'm prepared to offer you a deal."

Holy Rome sat up immediately at the word 'deal,' and his blue eyes shone with hope for the first time in two centuries—two hundred yeards of emo-ing in the corner of Arthur's house. And sometimes, Holy Rome had to admit even he was making himself irritated. "Yes, yes, o-kay. Yes sir!"

Arthur sighed. "I can give you some time with Italy again, maybe a month, because even my great magical skills are limited." He drummed his fingers on his knee and smiled. "Although I need something in return."

"Anything!" Holy Rome frowned. "I-I don't have much t-to give…"

"No, no," Arthur said. "Nothing like that. I just need you to get something back from my brothers."

The blond shifted in his seat, wincing as he stirred the wounds that hadn't closed, and sat up with an obedient nod. Arthur looked flustered for a moment before he spoke.

"….shineedmybabypicturesbackfromAllistair." (Yes, I'm spelling it Allistair. Why? One, because I can, and two, because the Scottish name is spelled and pronounced that way, I'm told)

Holy Rome furrowed his brows, trying to comprehend what exactly Arthur had asked him to do, then gave up and shook his head. "Sorry—what was that?"

"IsaidIneedmybabyalbumbackfromybrother…"

Silence.

"…what?"

"I need my baby pictures back from Scotland!" Arthur snapped, making Holy Rome wince. "He's going to blackmail me with them! It'll be embarassing!"

Holy Rome blinked. "T-that's it? That's all?"

"Yes!"

"Okay then…" He said softly. "I will."

The nation waited as Arthur fished around in his coat, muttering something under his breath. Cheeks still red and blushing, England finally pulled out a wand and a tiny book with it, flipping through the pages.

"Artieeee!" A shrill voice whined, and they heard the telltale click of the door. "Oh hullo, Holy Rome~"

"Oliver!" Arthur snapped. He jabbed his wand at the strawberry-haired, pink-and-blue-eyed 2p. "Get out, get out!"

Oliver huffed. "How rude! I try so hard to get out of the 2p world to come see my 1p, and he treats me like I'm some sort of crazy person!"

"You are mad!"

Oliver looked genuinely hurt, pressing a hand to his chest and letting his eyes brim with tears. "Artie, you cruel, cruel thing!"

Holy Rome stared at him. "Who are you?"

"Oh~" Oliver looked happy, and he clapped his hands excitedly as he trotted towards the child, picking him up and nuzzling his cheek against his, much to Arthur's protest. "I'm Oli-ver~ Arthur's player 2!" He reached inside his sweater-vest and pulled out a Ziplock, fishing inside and pulling out a perfectly frosted cupcake. Pink wrapping, blue frosting and light, multicolored sprinkles bathed in a delicious vanilla coating. "See, I made this for that ol' granpa over there—"

"I'm not old, you bloody git!"

"—but since he doesn't want it, it's yours! I didn't poison it, don't worry~"

Holy Rome allowed himself a bite while the strawberry blonde watched him expectantly, hands cupped around his chin and a cheshire-like grin spreading his freckled cheeks. If this was Arthur's player 2…his cooking was certainly better than the original's.

"So what were you doing with Artie?"

Arthur frowned. "Well, before you so rudely interrupted us," he began, "I was going to reunite him with his love!"

A squeal errupted from the 2p. "Love?! Who?! Oh, do tell," Oliver gushed, grasping the child's tiny hands in his.

"Well," Holy Rome began awkwardly. "Her name is Italy…"

"Her?" Oliver looked confused. "Oh, silly—Italy is a he!"

"Italy is a what?"

"But!" Oliver raised a finger. "If you were asking Arthur, your reunion won't be as lovely as you'd hope. Arthur's magic is less than completely unreliable!"

"Hey!"

"Mine, however—" The 2p whipped out a wand, crafted into a pinkish-blue spiral with a glitter-covered star on the top. "Is completely reliable! And free!"

Holy Rome paused. "But his price was something I could've easily done—"

Arthur jumped. "Yes, you see?"

"You're just scared your very attractive brother's going to ruin your life," Oliver waved him off. "I charge nothing for love!" The tip of the glittery wand began to glow, and Oliver placed a hand under his chin. "Anyway, here! I'll give you two months with your precious Italian love! Feliciano is such a sweet boy~"

"Boy?" Holy Rome stared.

"Yes, boy. Good luck, sweetums!"

The room was bathed in a pale pink light, and the last thing the collapsed nation heard was Arthur's cry of protest, and Oliver's wishes of luck.

And then a scream.

"Mein gott! 'Ey! I know you!" A certain albino was weilding a fire poker, the tip of which was pointed at Holy Rome's throat.

Holy Rome screamed. Then he paused, surprised by the deepness of his voice.

Gilbert gawked at him with reddish eyes, slowly lowering the poker. "Kleiner Bruder?! Is zat you?"

Panting, and glad that his throat was no longer in danger, Holy Rome sat up in what appeared to be a bed and blinked, blue eyes widening. "Alterer Bruder?"

Prussia and Holy rome stayed silent for a while, both with eyes wide and jaws slightly open in confusion. The last time he had seen his elder brother was when he was with the Teutonic Knights, wearing that cloak with a black cross and constantly bullying Hungary. He'd been a big, powerful nation then.

Holy Rome looked down at his hands. He was wearing the same thing—maybe a little differently colored, navy blue, with darker trims and white laces. And he was taller, too, and he certainly felt different. Taller. Stronger.

"Why am I—"

"You're supposed to ve dead!"

"I know! I know, w—" Holy Rome raised his hands in surrender as Gilbert raised the poker again. "Where is this?"

Prussia look embarassed. "Germany's basement."

"Bruder, why are you in Germany's basement?" Holy Rome paused. "And who's Germany?"

Gilbert tossed the poker aside. "Ah. Vell, shortly after you…" He sucked in a soft breath. He didn't know how to put it gently.

Holy Rome pursed his lips. "Go on. You can say it."

"…after you…died, I found a small kid in your place. Germany. He's a bit of a jerk, and a vorkaholic physco, and he's freakishly rovust. I think he might also ve gay, but zat's fine vith me." Prussia placed a finger under his chin. "And he hangs out vid dis guy named Italy. Jou know, he's not too bad-"

Holy Rome froze. "Italy?"

"Yes, Italy—why, vhat about Ita—" Gilbert grinned and snapped his fingers. "Oh, ja! You used to hang vith the little Italy!"

Holy Rome felt a smile spread his cheeks and he nodded, a brooding look crossing his eyes. Yes, Italy had been his first love. The first thing on his mind, and the last. "She must be very beautiful now," Holy Rome muttered.

"She?" Gilbert laughed. "Oh, oh! I rememver how ju thought Italy vas a girl!"

"But…" Holy Rome furrowed his brows. "…Italy is a girl, right?"

"NO!" A loud guffaw echoed from the Prussian, and Gilbert fell to the ground with a soft flop. "Nein! Italy is, in fact, a boy, as much as he is a crybaby and a little wimp, but he's every bit a boy as you are!"

As Holy Rome opened his mouth to reply, a soft knock echoed from the narrow door and a "Ve~" cut through Gilbert's laughing. "Oh Prussia! Mister Germany told me to-a tell you to stop-a making so much noise!" Footsteps thrummed against the creaky wooden steps. "He's-a getting very-a annoyed!"

As Italy stepped onto the cluttered basement, the airheaded nation's closed eyes snapped wide open, and his drooping curl crumpled into a disshiveled swirl, as his gaze slowly fell to Holy Rome.

The blonde nation felt the heat rush to his cheeks and he slowly raised a hand and waved. "H-hello, Italia. Remember me?"

Italy gawked.

"AAAH!" Italy pressed his hands to either side of his head. "I know I'm-a delusional, but brain, how could you-a be so cruel?! Stop doing this to meee!"

He scrambled up the steps, tripping over them as he went.

"Germanyyyyyy!"