I swear, this chapter was extremely hard to write! Even when I made time to try and write this chapter, I just couldn't get it out properly. First, Spain was too cheerful, then he was too creepy, then France was too much of a wimp... I rewrote it three times. I'm fairly satisfied with how it turned out.
I threw all semblance of historical accuracy out the window with this chapter. Doesn't matter, had fun. And this fic is almost over! One more chapter, I believe. Enjoy!
"So here's the plan," France whispered conspiratorially, leaning in close to Spain. Which was actually a bit difficult, since there was a branch currently stabbing him in the chest. There was also one sticking into his lower back and neck. Hiding in the bushes was probably not the best idea he'd ever have.
Spain stopped him before he could say anything. "I've got a better one. I go in there and start liberating the English bastard of his limbs until he gives Romano back to me. And if that doesn't work, I've got plenty of fun torture tools at my house to continue the game."
This silenced France. He stared at his psychopath of a friend, the deep disturbance he felt plain on his face.
The lack of response seemed to worry Spain a bit. The Spaniard's face softened slightly, although his dark side was still strong. "¿Qué? Is that plan not good?" he fretted, twisting his hands nervously around the ax handle.
France forced himself to speak. "N—no. That's not really a good plan at all. What if England doesn't have Romano?" he said.
Spain pouted. "I think it's a very good plan. And if he doesn't have Romano…" He paused to allow a creepy smile to spread across his face. "… then I'm sure the world won't miss that bastard of a nation."
He's insane. I'm friends with an idiotic psychopath, France thought with a shiver. "S—still…"
Said psychopath gave France a suspicious look. "You're not making fun of me inside your mind, are you?" he asked warily.
It was frightening how perceptive Spain's dark side could be at times. France shook his head vigorously. "Of course not, mon ami!" He just barely managed to keep his voice even, instead of squealing like a frightened little school girl.
Spain shrugged France's denials off, peeking out from the bush at the large mansion that served as England's home. "What do you think I should do? What if Romano's in there right now, being tortured?" His eyes widened. "I need to go rescue him!" he shouted, jumping to his feet.
France pulled Spain back down, but only with great effort. "Don't worry, I'm sure Romano's fine. England won't torture him, trust me," he said. Besides, if Romano was in there, then it was more likely that he'd be playing with America and Canada than being harmed in any way.
Unless England decided to cook for them…
The horrifying thought made him shiver. He needed to rescue Canada from that dreadful place quickly! Then he'd treat the poor little nation to some real food!
Spain dropped his ax to grab onto France's shoulders. "What's the plan, amigo? I'll do anything to save my henchman!" he cried.
France pushed back the perverted thoughts that came to his mind. This wasn't the time to take advantage of his oblivious friend's desperation (maybe next time…). He needed to focus if he wanted to take Canada back!
"Very well, but you have to follow the plan exactly and not go rampaging like some idiotic murderous fool," France said slowly, just to make sure Spain understood every word of it.
His eyes wide with absolute trust in France's abilities, Spain nodded quickly. "¡Sí! I'll do everything exactly as you tell me, I swear!" he promised.
"Good. It's very simple what you have to do, but you have to do it properly. All you have to do is go up to the door and request to see England. The servant should take you to one of those ridiculous tea rooms that he's so fond of. Once you and England are alone, then you can ask about Romano. If he insists he doesn't know anything, then you can go ahead and smash up his precious china in revenge," France began.
Even though he was careful to speak in a way that Spain could easily understand, the sick nation looked confused. "Why would I hurt China? I'm sure he's done nothing wrong yet. He even lets me buy wonderful silks from him sometimes!" Spain said.
"No, not China the country. I'm talking about the pottery material," France explained with a light groan of annoyance.
"Oh, ok, I got it. Why should I break his dishes, instead of breaking his bones?" Spain asked, genuinely curious.
"Trust me. Watching his expensive plates and tea cups break will be much more painful that anything your ax can do. Just stick to the plan, please!" France added when Spain looked doubtful. It was blasphemy that anything could be more painful than his beloved ax.
Unless it was watching his little henchman suffer. But then he would use his ax to destroy whoever hurt poor Romano. Which was exactly what he planned to do now!
"What if I run out of pottery to smash?" Spain asked.
France sighed, waving his hand in dismissal. "Then do whatever you want, I don't care." By then, he and Canada would be long gone anyway.
Spain nodded. "I'll do everything exactly as you said!" he told France, jumping to his feet and snatching up his ax.
"God speed, Spain," France replied.
He watched as his friend dashed up to the front door, ax in hand. The man who opened the door gave an audible shout that France could hear from the bush he hid in. He tried to slam the door shut on the Spaniard, but the ax-wielding man put his foot in the way. France winced as he watched this. That had to hurt.
Eventually, Spain "convinced" the servant to let him in to see England, and disappeared inside the house. As soon as the door swung shut, France stood. Time to put his own plan into action.
France walked around the side of the house, trying a couple windows. Most were locked, but he found one that slid open easily. He grinned as he climbed into the house. Silly England. He should know by now that he needed to lock all the windows and doors, and plug up that surprisingly clean chimney of his, if he wanted to have any hope at all of keeping the clever Frenchman out.
Triumphant, he dusted himself off and detangled random leaves and twigs from his hair. He was never going to hide in a bush again. It was horribly hard on his silky locks.
He shook his head. Enough of that. It was time to search for those adorable little North American brothers living in this pompous house.
Fortunately for him, he didn't have to search for very long. Within five minutes of entering the house, France heard an obnoxious voice shout, "And the hero takes off to save the damsel in distress!" followed by quickly running feet.
Two little boys dashed around the corner. One of them was wearing a sheet around his neck and holding his arms straight out in front of him. The other was clutching a tiny polar bear, panting hard as he tried to keep up with his brother.
"Wait, America! It's my turn to be the hero! You promised!" Even while yelling, the second boy's voice was just too soft.
America didn't appear to hear Canada over his own loud laugh. "Super America to the rescue!" he proclaimed. He looked back to the other boy. "Come on, trusty sidekick, we have to—Oof!" America ran into France's leg and fell back onto the floor.
France couldn't resist a chuckle. England must have a hard time dealing with the obnoxious little boy. France felt lucky that he got sweet Canada, if only for a little while.
"Ouch, that really hurt!" America said accusingly, looking up with an adorable pout. His eyes widened when he saw that he'd bumped into France, and not one of the servants like he'd been expecting. "Hey, you're that frog!"
France felt a headache forming. "Obviously you've been spending too much time with that idiot, England," he muttered furiously.
America laughed carelessly. "Big brother is much better and stronger than you'll ever be!" he proclaimed.
"As if! He just wishes he was!"
France's protests didn't phase America one bit. The boy stood up and adjusted the sheet so it wouldn't choke him. "Whatever, frog. I've got a damsel in distress to save. See ya!" And without even seeing if Canada would follow, America dashed off, as if he'd forgotten all about his brother.
Now that America was gone, France turned his attention to Canada with a gentle smile. "How are you doing here, little one?" he asked.
Canada's eyes widened in surprise. He clutched the bear to his chest in a weak display of excitement. "You're talking to me?" he asked in disbelief.
"But of course," France said. "I can't forget about my cute little colony so easily."
A small blush of pure happiness colored Canada's pale cheeks. "So you can see me? I'm not invisible?"
France ruffled the boy's hair, managing to draw a giggle from him that was so much more subdued than America's. "Of course your not invisible, silly boy! Who told you that?" he asked.
Canada's face darkened and he looking down. He absently played with his polar bear's fur. "Well, no one ever sees me around here. Even America, my own brother, forgets that I exist."
He looked so distraught that France had to kneel down to envelope the boy in an affectionate hug. "You're not invisible to me, Canada. You'll never be," France told him, stroking his hair soothingly.
Canada buried his face in France's shoulder. "Thank you," he murmured in a muffled voice.
After a while, France finally pulled away. A kind smile lit up his expression—the soft, gentle smile reserved only for this dear little nation. "Would you like to come back to my house? I'll take good care of you," he said.
The quiet boy was glowing with emotion. "Yes! Please! I would love to!" he whisper-yelled. France was fascinated by the way Canada's emotions shone from his eyes so plainly. He was just so innocent… It made France feel the overwhelming need to protect him.
France took Canada's hand. "Let's go then," he said.
Somewhere in the house, there was a loud crash and the sound of breaking china. Canada looked in the direction of the sound, obviously alarmed. France laughed nervously.
"England didn't happen to bring home a little boy named Romano, did he? Romano is South Italy," France asked.
Canada looked up at him thoughtfully, then shook his head. "No, England hasn't taken any kids since he took me away from you." A shadow passed over the boy's face and his grip on France's hand tightened a fraction.
France ran his thumb over the back of his hand comfortingly. "Well, if he didn't, I'm sure there's nothing to worry about," he said, leading Canada to the window that he'd entered through.
There was another crash. France hoped that his friend wasn't actually stupid enough to try and dismember England, since the island nation hadn't taken Romano after all (not that France ever thought he had).
Then again, Spain was pretty dense. Oh well…
Phew, the penultimate chapter done with! I'll try to get the last one done ASAP! I think I've got an ending pretty much planned out already. I think... I'm going to leave Spain's side of the story out with this one. I think it's pretty obvious what happened (don't worry, he doesn't physically harm England too much!).
Ciao for now~!