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England's entire body went numb, and he felt as if an iron knife had just been roughly grated through his skin. There, on the sandy ground, Sealand lay with the vile lizard's claws dug into both his ribcages. The young boy's eyes were wide with fear and pain, yet at the same time held all the hope in the world. Anger flooding through his veins, England let out an enraged bellow, and dug his spear into the lizard's scaly flesh, relishing its high pitched death screech. The hideous thing went down, dead like it should be. A few feet to his right, Hungary was fighting the last two lizards with her ax and skillet.
The Brit was aware of his chest rising and falling rapidly in panicked heaves. He bent down next to Sealand, seeing the large, gaping wounds on either side of his stomach. They were deep...and big. Each wound was about the size of England's hand, and the blood stained the whole ground around the two brothers a horrible scarlet. Sealand's skin was pailing, and his lips were steadily turning blue.
"E-England!" Sealand gasped, looking up into his older brother's green eyes.
"I"m here." He soothed, smoothing Sealand's hair behind his face, and stroking his cooling forehead. England could feel an aching lump form in his throat, and tears burning in his emerald eyes. "Sealand...I just wanted you to know...I opressed, opressed you all those times, but I just wanted you to know that..." The tears were coming full on now, running down his cheeks and flowing down to Sealand's. "That I was just trying to protect you. You were...a great little brother," His voice cracked, and the sobs increased in volume. Sealand's darkening but hopeful eyes stared up at his older brother.
"I've been...waiting for you to say something like that...sometimes, you really could be a git," Sealand rasped, blood gurgling at the back of his throat. England instantly cringed at the horrible, depressing sound. Without thinking, he pulled his twelve year old brother close to him, pressing his warm, lively chest against Sealand's smaller, slowly moving one.
Sealand's older brother gulped. "You're right, I could be a real asshole to you at times, but I still...loved you like my little brother. You know that right?" Sealand gave a nod of his head, not having the energy to do anything more. The youthful boy rested his head against his brother's chest, his eyes fluttering closed. Above them, the afternoon sun shone brightly like a horribly misplaced omen. How could the golden sun be shining so merrily on such a terrible day?
...
Germay and Japan were digging into a lovely lunch of lizard jerky, chomping the chewy meat between their teeth, and taking sips from bottles of water sent from sponsers. They may have just gotten their entire stack of valueble food and supplies destroyed, yet the Capitol citizens were still taking pity on them.
'So," Germany began after finishing his share, "I propose we go hunting."
Japan raised an eyebrow. "Would that be the best course of action?"
Germany nodded slowly, his blond head shining in the sun. "Ja...it's the final eight. There aren't much of us still left, and if we just sit here, making no kills...we're going to stop getting stuff from sponsers." He held up his empty bottle. "After all, all we've even recieved so far is some water."
The Asian man finished his meat. "But who should we hunt this time? We don't know the whereabouts of Belarus and Russia..."
"There are other targets than those two," Germany said slowly. Thoughts of a dying Italy filled his mind, filling him with both sorrow and fury. "England. It's been long enough. That bastard got away with what he did to..."
Japan looked at his ally, who was gripping his sword and breathing hard. "Germany? Are you all right?"
"Ja, I'm fine, but England killed Italy, Italy..." Germany trailed off again. Before coming into the arena, he hadn't realized what he thought about Italy, regarding the bubbly Italian as an annoying nuissance, but not anymore. Seeing Italy lay on the ground like a pathetic fish out of water made Germany discover how much he'd cared for Italy. And how much he'd taken him for granted. "Let's just get going. If I'm correct, England has made camp on the beach-" He nodded to the green hill that sloped downwards, to the regions that the Nation Careers hadn't had the stamina to travel to yet.
"If that is so, I will help you, Germany-san," Japan said, applying the formal honorific. He grabbed his katana and a knife, while Germany took his own sword as well as a dagger for very close range combat. Filled with grim determination, the two men bounded down the sloping hill, walking along silently and letting the salty breezes ruffle their stressed hairs. Japan and Germany both wanted to avenge Italy, and now was the time to do it. They would wait no longer.
...
"I don't want to die," Sealand whimpered, blood pooling in his mouth, and sunlight glistening off his wet, teared up cheeks. His eyes remained fixed on his older brother. "Am I going to die?''
England took another deep breath, sobs racking his own body. "N-no, you won't. Becuase no matter what, you'll always remain with us. Always." He wiped off Sealand's face. "You were a nation. You always were. The best there ever was." A beautiful smile cracked across the boy's face, like a dutifully rising sun that would never set.
"It hurts so much," The young nation gasped, blood pooling out of his sides, and out of the horrible wounds.
His older brother patted his head. "It'll all be over soon. I promise. Just close your eyes." Indeed, Sealand's eyelids began drooping, the sun that blazed across his face coming down, but in a peaceful sort of way. "You'll be safe. Safe and sound." His breathing began slowing down, and he looked at peace. At rest, and safe. But one question still vexed him.
"England...are you going to win?" He asked faintly, the words barely escaping his lips.
England gupled down the lump in his throta."Yes, yes Sealand. I'm going to win. For you," The Brit promised, patting his brother's hand. Sealand smiled once more, then went totally still, sinking back against the older nation's warm body. The canon shot never stopped ringing in England's ears.
...
"Big Brother, another one dead," Belarus commented to Russia, polishing on of her knives as the canon boomed across the arena.
"Da, I see," Russia answered. "Who do you think it was?"
Belraus made a face. "Hopefully someone that would be no fun for us to kill anyway. Like that scimpy blond girl, or..."
"Oh, what if it was that pathetic little child, Sealand?" Russia laughed at the thought. "He reminds me so much of Latvia, it would be hilarious to watch him die, though, but perhaps he's still open to us!"
"It'd be fun to watch another little child scream to death, like that girl," She turned to her older brother upon referencing Leichtenstein. "By the way, I still say we need to do that again soon!"
"When we find ripe enough pray," The large nation told her. "Still, the younger, the better. Remember how loud and how pitched her screams were?"
"I do!" Belarus guffawed, "I bet we kept the whole arena awake to them!" As the two siblings giggled at the sadistic memory, a silver parachute floated down from the sunny sky, landing daintly in front of them. Russia raised an eyebrow, taking the package in his large hand. He tugged off the parachute and ripped it open.
"Looks like there's something for us," He exclaimed, opening a plain box to find some useful items. Small bottles of water. Matches. Bits of rope, and several packages of food. In addition, there were several throwing knives, which were split evenly between Russia and Belarus, three knives for them each. They would make worthy long range weapons. Which would be needed for later, no doubt. The two nations began muching on some of the food that had been sent to them. It was quite delicous, dried lamb jerky with plenty of salt, which was welcome in replacing the large amounts of sweat they'd lost, along with sugared strawberries and cherries for dessert. The sugar stung sweetly on their tongues. It had been a while since either Belarus or Russia had had bite of something sweet.
After eating, the siblings entertained themselves by practicing with their hew throwing knives. When a rabbit hopped across their path, a well aimed throw from Belarus sent the the poor thing screaming as she twisted the knife around in its body. Although it would feel great to do that to the other bratty tributes.
...
Hungary looked sympathetically at England, as he cried and cried over his younger brother's dead body. He must be beating himself up becuase he'd broken his own promise to keep Sealand safe. Well...he had to make himself win now, then. For Sealand. But Hungary still had some plans of her own. She had vowed to get back home to Austria, to her boyfriend. She was sad for tiny little Sealand too, but her love for Austria came first.
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