It was dark, and there was an odd noise coming from somewhere in the room. Peter opened his eyes, yawning loudly. "Jerk Alfred? You there?"

"He is not awake yet, ve-" The whisper was punctuated by a small sob, and Peter realised that the noise was that of someone crying.

"Feliciano?"

"Yes, it was me."

Peter frowned, confused. "What?"

"I- ve, Peter, but the Ice King is so harsh! He has made us all promise to be spies against you- he wanted me to kill you!"

"The Ice King? But who-" Peter's mind, slow and foggy with sleep, was slowly working out what had just been said. "You're trying to kill us?"

"No! Not kill you-"

"But you poisoned the food!" Peter realised, shocked. "You poisoned the food, you jerk bastard- we could have died!"

"You couldn't! You wouldn't have! I am not trying to kill you, not any more! But you must leave here, as soon as you can!"

"Or what?"

"The Ice King's spies are everywhere, ve- they will have seen you come here and they will have told him."

There was a groan from the other end of the table. Peter and Feliciano watched Alfred as he stretched slightly, muttering something neither of them could hear, before flopping back into his chair with a grunt.

"Okay," Peter said, turning back to Feliciano, who sat sniffling in a chair by the fire, "one- who the heck is this Ice King, two- why does he want us dead and three..." But he couldn't think of a third point just yet, and so the sentence trailed off lamely. Feliciano sighed.

"The Ice King... ve, but how can you not know him? Your Alfred does- he is the Ivan I heard him tell you about before."

"...oh." Well, that kind of made sense. From what Arthur and his Dads had told him, Peter knew Ivan was really not a very nice person at all- downright evil, they'd called him. Cracked. Bloody insane. Which might just explain the death wish he apparently had for them.

"And he wants to kill you because of the prophecy that says that, when three boys with golden hair arrive in Narnia, they will summon back Albion, and he will be the end of the Ice King's reign."

Or not.

"Okay... could you explain that to me a bit more, please?"

"Hey! Open up in there, idiot!" Someone yelled from outside, making Peter and Feliciano jump, and waking Alfred up.

"Wha-!" He said blearily. "Whad'd I miss?"

"Everything." Peter snapped back, more than a little scared by the way the person outside was pounding on the door.

Feliciano didn't seem to be so concerned though. "Ve- Romano!" He called out. Scrambling to his feet, he hurried over to the door and was almost punched in the face when he opened it as Romano swung his arm for another knock.

"Finally!" He hissed, scurrying inside and slamming the door behind him. He glared at Peter and Alfred for a moment before rounding on Feliciano again. "Have you gone completely mad?"

"N-no..."

"So why are these two here? You know what Ivan said!"

"Of course I do, ve-"

"Then you know that you're putting us all in danger, idiot!"

"I'm sorry!"

Romano took a deep breath, seemingly forcing himself to calm down. "You always are. But this time, Feliciano, how much time do you think we have to feel sorry for you?"

"Ve- what?"

"Natasya's coming. She'll be here within an hour, and as far as I can tell, Ivan's following her."

"...oh." Feliciano said quietly. Peter glanced over at Alfred, who looked defiant.

"Then let them come! We'll kick their asses- or even better, I'll kick them for you!" Romano glared at him again by way of reply. Feliciano's gaze flicked between the two.

"Ve- Alfred, I don't think that's such a good idea..."

"Why not? I did it once, didn't I?"

"...did you?" Peter asked for all of them. "Arthur never said anything about that, and my Dads didn't either."

"Well, I did- and don't you mean 'Dad'? Single version?"

"No, Dads," Peter told him, drawing out the 's' so that it sounded like a 'z'. "And anyway, I don't think things will work the same way here."

"And why shouldn't they?"

"Hey! Enough of that." Romano butted in, still glaring at Alfred. "Listen, you- I don't think you really get what we're up against. We're not fighting anyone. In fact, we're getting out right now."

"A hero never runs away!" Said Alfred, puffing out his chest a little. "Not even from-"

There was a pounding on the door, and all four people in the room turned to look at it. "Open up!" Called a girlish voice from the other side. "Or I'll have to break this door down, and maybe kill you all."

Whoever it was sounded insane, discussing their deaths like a change in the weather. Peter shuddered, and even Alfred looked a little worried.

"Okay, so I'm not going up against her."

Romano rolled his eyes. "Finally, the bastard sees some sense! Now- Feliciano?"

"Ve, big brother- I have a white flag, can't we just-?"

"No!"

"Oh, all right then..." Feliciano scuttled over to the side of the room, where a musty bookcase stood just beside the fireplace.

"He wouldn't..." breathed Peter, realising what he was about to do. At least, what he appeared to be about to do; instead, he bent and lifted up the poker, with which he tapped on a flagstone at the bottom of the fireplace. The stone swung down like a trapdoor, revealing a dark tunnel below.

"He didn't." Alfred said, looking mildly impressed.

"I'd have done it better though." Peter whispered, not wanting to be overheard by Romano.

"And I'd have done it even better than you."

"How do you know?" Peter asked, indignant, as Romano began pushing them towards the trapdoor.

"Because I'm just that awesome."

The tunnel, once they'd scrambled down the ladder to get to it, and pulled the stone back in to place, was dark and absolutely titchy. Despite Romano having ordered them in no uncertain terms to be quiet, there were several yelps as Alfred bashed his head on the ceiling.

"Ssh!" Romano hissed after the nth repeat. Alfred scowled back at him.

"Well, I'm sorry, but-"

"No, ssh!" The others did so, and heard a scraping noise. Then another, and then a thud.

"Ve- they're in the tunnel!" Feliciano squeaked.

There was a moment's shocked silence, after which no-one needed Romano's hissed "run!"

-

"Okay Al, I believe you now. No point in hiding, is there?" Matthew shouted, trudging through the deep snow and shrugging the slightly-too-small coat a little further over his chest as he pushed his way through the trees. There was no reply though, just as there hadn't been the last dozen-odd times he'd called, and he was beginning to lose hope.

"You are looking for someone, comrade?" Matthew's head snapped round at the sound of the familiar voice. No, he'd not been mistaken- that was Ivan standing there, just a few metres behind him.

How long has he been there? "Yes- Alfred. And Peter too, if his story's to be believed, which I suppose it is." Russia cocked his head to one side, regarding him with a slightly bemused smile.

"I do not follow, comrade. Who is this Alfred of yours?"

Matthew blinked, nonplussed. "Who is he? You're asking me who Alfred is?"

"Well, yes. Is the request such a confusing one?" Ivan asked, still smiling.

"Erm..." Yes. "I guess it's kind of odd, since he... well, since he sort of used to be your worst enemy and all..." Matthew explained, slowly trailing off as Ivan's expression still did not change.

"I still do not quite understand you, comrade. But that is no matter- you look cold! We must get you out of this snow. Here, follow me." He beamed at Matthew, then strode off into the forest. A little worried now, Matthew followed him. Insane or not, he was the only familiar face he'd seen in this forest- and he'd reformed now, hadn't he?

At the back of his mind, though, a question still niggled- how did he get through that wardrobe in the first place?

-