Disclaimer: Although we'd love to, we don't own Hetalia.

A/N: Hey, everyone! We hope you liked the prologue, though it might have been a bit boring for some of your tastes.

Castor says she needs to control me. This horse will not be harnessed! She will remain a free stallion! Pollux! What?

Alright, update (stardate: 3/29/2013) the story has been changed to rated "M" as a precaution. The rating is only for later chapters.

Enjoy! Please review!

Lillebror and Storebror

Thursday, September, 12th

Iceland stared in disbelief at the nations before him. Turkey was attempting to shake Greece awake while South screamed at Mexico in Spanish. The Bad Touch Trio was catcalling Switzerland and Belgium, the German nation did not take it well and chased them around with a gun. Austria shook his head at his friend's antics and turned to his wife for conversation.

"Mantenga su puta boca, puta! Usted tiene nada que decir acerca de mi hermano mayor! (Keep your mouth shut! You have no say about my big brother!)" South shouted at Mexico. The ex-nation looked ready to pounce on her neighbor right then and there.

"Voy a decir lo que me gusta, puta! (I will say what I like!)" Mexico sniffed haughtily.

"Me va a terminar antes de decir cualquier cosa! (I will end you before you say anything!)" South snapped, her hands clenched in fists.

"South," America said, stepping between the female nations. "Take a deep breath and calm down. Mexico doesn't deserve it." Mexico smirked triumphantly at South. "You need to shut up too, Mexico." The Hispanic nation frowned and stuck her tongue out at America.

"What, you're gettin' between me and la puta del sur?" South looked shocked at the thought.

"Yes, I am, and don't call her that. Where's your husband and Smokey?" America massaged his temples. He thought he heard Switzerland cursing and Prussia cackling loudly. Why couldn't his sister have married a sane nation?

"You're gettin' between me and Mexico?" South clarified one last time.

"Yes." America nodded.

Throwing her hands in the air, South stomped away angrily. "I secede!" she shouted.

America just rolled his eyes at his sister's antics then turned to frown at Mexico.

"Geez, I thought I asked you two to get along better," America told Mexico.

Mexico shrugged. "She's a little puta." Suddenly, she was faced with a snorting white buffalo. "Or not!" Ever since America had been convinced that using magic wouldn't kill him, the young nation had been willing to learn from his father and England once more. He enjoyed playing with magic with Canada and occasionally intimidating Prussia with his animal form.

"What's going on here?" Cuba approached the nation and buffalo, ignoring the animal. "Are you bothering America again? I thought I told you to stop."

America snorted and reverted back to his nation form. "Don't worry about it, Cuba. I've got everything under control." After World War Three, America and Cuba had been on better terms with each other, not fighting as much.

"The hijo de puta's sister is being a puta again!" Mexico pouted.

"So, you have everything under control when your sister just seceded from you again?" Cuba asked. "Mexico, you don't exactly get a say in what happens with South. You just need to accept she's here and get over it." Mexico huffed and stormed away.

"Nah, it's just something South says when she's mad," America said, waving a hand dismissively.

Cuba watched Mexico leave with crossed arms. "I don't understand how she still acts like child," he said.

"Who? South or Mexico?" America looked between the female nations on opposite sides of the rooms.

"Both, I guess," Cuba told him. "Mexico's older but acts just as immature. No lo tiendo. (I don't understand.)"

"I think Spain might have spoiled her," America said.

"You think Spain spoiled her? Geez, I don't want to guess how much you spoiled South."

"Heh, believe me, you don't," America agreed. "You try to say no when she gives you puppy dog eyes and talks too fast for you to get an answer in."

"Really? Mexico just cusses her head off at you," Cuba sighed. He had no idea how many times his cousin had spent an hour swearing at him in both English and Spanish.

"Yep, and I understand every little thing she says. Far Den heard her the other day and asked me what she was saying." America chuckled at the memory.

"What did she want from Denmark?" Cuba asked curiously.

"She didn't want anything from him. She was insulting me again. Far didn't take it very well."

"Wow, I don't want to guess what kind of argument they got in."

"None, far chased her with his axe until Far Norge made him stop. It was pretty funny, actually." Mexico had run screaming from Denmark while America and Norway had watched. Norway hadn't had any qualms with intimidating the Hispanic nation, he didn't appreciate his son being insulted, but it did have to stop at some point.

"Which part," Cuba asked. "The chasing her around?"

"Yep! Mexico avoided me for the next week," America said happily. "It was nice and quiet."

"Yeah, that certainly sounds nice," Cuba said longingly.

Iceland gripped the edge of the table tightly, his tail twitching in agitation.

"I thought this was supposed to be a meeting," Iceland grumbled angrily. "Not a gossip fest."

"We have to wait for Germany to get here, aru," China said, patting Iceland's hand consolingly.

"Why do we have to wait for Germany to get here? Why can't everyone just sit down and be quiet?" Iceland demanded.

"Something is bothering you," China commented. "What is it?"

"That no one will pay attention!"

China laughed. "Why don't you ask your younger brother to shut them up, he has a loud enough voice." He motioned to America who was now laughing with Cuba.

Iceland glanced at his younger brother and blushed. "I don't want to be a bother. It would be rude of me. Why is Prussia here and Germany not?"

"I heard he is having a bit of trouble with Italy," China sighed. "Apparently he and his brother didn't want to come to the meeting today."

The doors to the meeting room slammed open at that moment and Germany marched in dragging Italy and Romano behind him.

"Great, they're finally here," Iceland muttered, his fox ears twitching lightly.

"Now that we're all here," Turkey bellowed. "Why don't we all take a seat?"

"Why are we even here?" Greece asked with a scowl and crossed arms. "I don't really feel like spending my time on a cold island right now."

"The volcano has erupted and we are trapped here," Germany snapped, forcing Italy and Romano to sit down in chairs. "Has anyone seen Canada?"

The doors to the meeting room burst open again and Canada rushed in with Kumajirou hot on his heels.

"Sorry I'm late," the nation panted. "I nearly got hit by a car walking here!"

"Good, everyone is here." Germany nodded. The nations took their seats at the large table and the German nation launched into a long speech about their predicament.

Someone had made the mistake of seating America and Canada beside each other. The brothers whispered back and forth until Norway smacked them both upside the head.

"Beklager," America apologized with a grin.

"Idioter," Norway muttered. "Pay attention to what people say."

"Ja, far." Canada smiled sheepishly then turned to listen to Germany. America, on the other hand, was distracted by either a daydream or very deep thinking.

"America, pay attention," Norway hissed. Honestly, why did his sons have to be such trouble makers?

"Huh? Oh, yeah." America looked straight ahead.

Germany's speech continued on late into the afternoon until Italy called for a lunch break.

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Friday, September 13th

Iceland closed the front door to his house and leaned against it with a sigh. After the meeting, Norway had dragged him out to spend some quality time together. Glancing at the clock, Iceland shook his head in disbelief.

"Twelve a.m.," The small Nordic nation muttered. "He managed to keep me out past midnight." He was only thankful America hadn't been with them. His little brother loved to stay up well past three in the morning. Iceland had learned that the hard way, after inviting America over for the night.

Slipping out of his jacket, Iceland hung it in the mudroom's closet. He flicked the light switch upon entering the living room. His ears didn't register the sound of the front door opening and closing quietly.

"How does Norway manage to talk so much?" Iceland wondered aloud. "He used to be so quiet. Mr. Puffin, are you in here?" He glanced around the silent room but there was no sign of his pet bird.

"Icy?" a boisterous voice asked behind him.

Iceland whirled around in surprise to see Denmark standing in his doorway.

"Danmörk?" But it wasn't Denmark. He looked different. His hair was spiked up but was now a black color. His orange eyes were filled with a haunted look and scars riddled his body. A broad sword was strapped to his hip and an axe to his back.

"Nej," the Denmark doppelganger said. "It's K'lmar. I haven't been Denm'rk in a l'ng t'me."

"What, Kalmar?" Iceland repeated in disbelief. What was Denmark playing at, pretending to be someone else?

"Ja! And ya are Ic'land, ja?" Kalmar asked, his haunted eyes taking on a strange twinkle.

"Já," Iceland said. His tail swished back and forth nervously, his ears flat on his head.

"Icy!" Kalmar crowed. "It's great ta see ya again! I thought I'd n'ver get ta see yer cute f'ce again." The doppelganger's face fell before he tried to smile again.

"What? I don't even know you!" Iceland took a small step backward and Kalmar followed him.

"Nej, but I kn'w ya," Kalmar told Iceland. "Do ya kn'w how h'rd it was ta see yer beaut'ful eyes so dull in death?" he asked.

"Death?" Iceland repeated nervously. "I'm right here, Kalmar."

"I k'lled my Icy . . . and Sw'de . . . and Nor . . . and F'nny." Kalmar looked sad at the thought. "I k'lled th'm all."

"You killed . . ." Iceland stammered, his mouth falling open. "But we're all here! Denmark, Sweden, Finland, and Norway, we're all still alive."

"Ja, but I us'd ta be Denm'rk, bef're I k'lled ev'ryone." Kalmar nodded solemnly.

Iceland gaped at the strange nation in front of him before yelping and bolting for the exit.

"Icy!" Kalmar raced after the small Nordic nation, grabbing his tail. "Don't run fr'm me!" He clouted Iceland across the head. Iceland cried out and fell to the floor. Lashing out, he managed to free his tail from Kalmar's grip. He raced up the stairs and into a bedroom, slamming the door shut.

"Where to hide? Where to hide?" Iceland tore into the connected bathroom and clambered into the closet, shutting the door behind him. Silently he prayed Kalmar would get bored and leave. But that wasn't the case. He heard the bedroom door splinter as it was struck by a sharp object.

"Icy, I don't l'ke it wh'n ya hide fr'm me." Iceland heard Kalmar walking around the room.

Iceland clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide. 'Please, go away.' He tried to steady his breathing but it was nearly impossible.

"Icy," Kalmar growled. "C'me out now, or ya'll regr't it." There was the sound of something splintering as it was struck by the object. Iceland squeaked in fear and held his breath. He didn't hear the bathroom door open on silent hinges, or the soft footsteps.

"ICY!" The closet door was ripped open. "Th're ya are. Don't ya kn'w not ta m'ke bror mad?" Kalmar asked, towering over the small Nordic nation.

Whimpering, Iceland shrunk back further into the closet. What did this mad nation want with him? Kalmar seized Iceland's ankles and dragged him from the closet, holding him upside down.

"Yer going ta regr't h'ding fr'm me," Kalmar said sternly. He held a large battle axe in the hand not dangling Iceland in the air.

"Fyrirgefðu! (I'm sorry!)" Iceland yelped and covered his head, shivering.

"Wh't, ya th'nk I'm going ta hit ya with an axe?" Kalmar glanced between the quivering Iceland and his axe. "Th't would j'st k'll ya again." Slowly, Iceland lowered his hands, looking up at Kalmar and shivering. Kalmar grinned down at Iceland.

"There's a good lillebror," Kalmar crooned, almost soothingly.

"You're not my brother!" Iceland whimpered and twisted in Kalmar's grip, trying to get the realm to release him.

Kalmar's grin dropped and he let his axe fall to the floor. Raising a hand he smacked Iceland hard enough to leave a bruise. Iceland yelped and stared at Kalmar in terror.

"W'tch wh't ya say, bror," Kalmar warned harshly.

"I don't even know you!" Iceland wailed as his tail tucked between his legs.

"Aw, it's alr'ght, bror. Don't cry!" Kalmar pulled Iceland upright by the arm, hugging him tightly. "Storebror doesn't w'nt ta hurt ya."

Iceland whimpered and wiggled in Kalmar's arms. Finally, he dropped to the floor, bolting for the door of the bathroom. His escape was stopped when Kalmar pinched an ear between two fingernails.

"Ow!" Iceland grabbed Kalmar's wrist as he tried to get the realm to relinquish his grip on his ear.

"Nor us'd ta h've a cat," Kalmar said with a thoughtful look. "Th's was the only way ta get it ta shut up . . . I th'nk it could work." He nodded to himself.

"What, what do you mean?" Iceland tugged Kalmar's wrist lightly, wincing.

Kalmar grabbed Iceland's other ear, holding both appendages tightly. "If yer not going ta be good fer storebror, he's going ta h've ta m'ke s're ya will be," he said seriously.

"Ah! What are you talking about?" Iceland struggled against the hands holding him but they were too strong.

Kalmar released an ear and grabbed his axe from the floor. "Ya'll understand," he said, raising the weapon high in the air. Iceland yelped in terror and covered his head. Kalmar brought the axe handle down hard on the nation's temple and Iceland collapsed unconscious into his arms.

"Don't w'rry, storebror's going ta t'ke good c're of ya."

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"I told you not to tell me lies, Toad," South giggled as France limped down the sidewalk beside her and Prussia.

"Oui, je sais, (I know,)" France said with a wince.

"Kesese," Prussia laughed, clapping France on the back. "Don't mess with my awesome Teufelhund."

"Mon ami, try to control your wife." France winced again.

"You shouldn't have lied to me," South chastised him.

"Oui, I will never make that mistake again," France said solemnly.

"Good. Now, then, I feel like we're missin' something," South said wonderingly.

"And what is that?" Prussia asked, intertwining their fingers.

"I just feel like we're missin' something." South bit her lip in deep concentration.

"Why don't you ask your bruder," Prussia suggested with a shrug. "Call him mentally."

"How do you know I can do that?" South looked at her husband in shock.

"You two make faces when you're talking to each other." Prussia stifled a laugh. "It's pretty awesome to watch."

"We make faces at each other?" South repeated.

"Ja, it's almost like you're talking face to face." Prussia nodded solemnly. He could remember a time during a meeting when South had been pouting while America had looked very stern. Their emotions had constantly changed as Prussia supposed South succeeded in getting whatever it was she wanted.

"I was wondering why Amérique was laughing and frowning at the last world meeting," France said, cocking his head thoughtfully.

"I didn't know we did that," South said. "I'm goin' to have to talk to big brother, this could be dangerous for the mission." She looked very serious when she said this.

"What mission?" Prussia asked suspiciously. His wife was known to talk about both real and made up missions at random times in the day.

"Um, details not important."

"Right . . . are you going to ask your bruder?" Prussia asked.

"Um, yeah." South nodded then let her gaze fall to the sidewalk as Prussia led her along. 'Hey, big brother.'

'Hey, South, what's up?' America answered the telepathic call immediately.

'Are we missin' something?' South asked.

'. . . Did you lose Smokey again?' South could feel her brother's exasperation.

'Um, who's Smokey?'

'Your pet bear,' America reminded his sister. Many nations had wondered how he could stand reminding his own sister about such obvious facts every day. America just shrugged and said he did it for her.

"Um, Prussia," South addressed her husband.

"Ja?" Prussia asked innocently. South's face had been hilariously confused until she looked at him. He had to hold back his laughter.

"Did we lose Smokey?"

"Verdammt!" Prussia swore. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice."

"What do you mean you were hopin' I wouldn't notice?" South shrieked. France covered his ears, wincing.

"I'M JOKING!" Prussia raised his hands in defense. "I think he's back at the building with China."

"He's with China?" South repeated, calming down somewhat. "The girly nation?"

"Ja," Prussia sighed. "Do you want to go back and get him?"

"Um, I don't know. Is he safe?"

"How should I know?" Prussia threw his hands up in exasperation.

"I will go get your bear for you," France told the married couple, patting South's shoulder.

"Oh, thank you, Toad."

"De rien." France turned and limped back to the building.

"Hey, Prussia," South said, tugging at her husband's shirt.

"Ja?"

"What's that?" South pointed at the night sky where fire seemed to be leaping into the air.

"It's the volcano erupting." Prussia didn't even bother trying to pronounce the volcano's name.

"It's eruptin'?" South repeated. "I've never seen one erupt before, can we get closer?" she asked.

"Nein, it's dangerous. Even Scotland refuses to fly over. Let's go back to the hotel,"

"Okay." South allowed her husband to lead her back to the hotel. "Why isn't the puppy stayin' in the hotel?" she asked curiously.

"He lives here, this is his country." Prussia let them into the hotel room.

"Oh, I get it now. Why don't we have a meetin' at my house sometime?"

"Because you're not a nation anymore. And it would have to be at America's house."

"Oh, well, then I say we hold it in South Carolina next time." South raised a hand to add to her declaration.

"You'll have to talk to West and America about that," Prussia chuckled, shrugging out of his suit coat and kicking his shoes off.

"Why do I always have to ask someone about everythin'?" South demanded.

"You have to get permission to do things," Prussia told her. "It's how things run in this world."

"Well, that's just not fun," South huffed and crossed her arms in a pout.

"Ja I know." Prussia flopped onto the bed, exhausted. South watched him for a moment then jumped on the bed whooping, almost landing on Prussia. "Oof! Warn a guy next time!" Prussia laughed.

"Sorry, Muffins. I couldn't help myself." South curled up beside her husband.

"Want to take a nap?" Prussia asked.

"Yeah, sure." South snuggled closer and shut her eyes tight, humming Dixie. "Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams, Teufelhund." Prussia wrapped his arms around his wife.

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Iceland groaned and shifted as he slowly woke up. His temple pounded from the blow it had taken in the bathroom. Opening his eyes, Iceland found himself in a bad situation. Kalmar towered over him and his arms and legs had been bound tightly.

"Godmorgen, lillebror," Kalmar said with a warm smile.

"What?" Iceland looked up at him in terror. "What's happening?" He struggled against the ropes uselessly. The knots were too tight.

"Storebror has ta m'ke s're ya stay a good boy." Kalmar moved to the nightstand and opened a small box. "Soviet st'll had this fr'm wh'n he rul'd his s'sters."

"What?" Iceland jerked at his bonds more forcefully. "Where am I?"

"You are in storebror's house now." Kalmar withdrew a small gun-like instrument from the box.

"What is that?" Iceland stopped struggling and scooted as far away he could from Kalmar.

Kalmar pinched an ear with his nails again. "It's ta m'ke s're yer a good lillebror," he explained. Iceland could see a small hoop earring in the piercing gun.

"Ow, no, stop!" Iceland jerked his head, crying out when his ear was pulled.

"Beklager, lillebror, but ya need ta be good fer storebror." Kalmar aligned the instrument with the edge of Iceland's ear.

"No, please." Iceland struggled against his bonds. "They're sensitive."

"Ja, that's the point." Kalmar pressed the trigger and the instrument punched the earring thorough Iceland's sensitive flesh, causing the small nation to scream. The realm drew back and reached for another earring.

"Please, stop!" Iceland struggled as tears spilled from his eyes.

"Nej." Kalmar aligned the second earring with the opposite ear and pulled the trigger, drawing away once he was finished and setting the instrument aside.

Iceland sobbed as he curled in on himself. "I don't even know you!"

"Ya will, Icy, don't w'rry." Kalmar sat on the bed and pulled Iceland into his lap, massaging the nation's right ear.

"My name is not Icy!" Iceland tried to jerk away from Kalmar. "It's Iceland."

"Nej, ya are Icy." Kalmar grabbed an earring and gave it a sharp tug.

Iceland cried out in pain. "What do you want with me?"

"I w'nt my lillebror b'ck." Kalmar released the earring. Sorrow flashed through his haunted eyes.

"I'm not even your little brother," Iceland said. "Where am I?"

"Ya are on Gl'be," Kalmar explained. "My w'rld."

"Globe? I've never heard of it before," Iceland sniffled.

"Th's is a parall'l w'rld." Kalmar lowered Iceland back to the bed and cut the ropes.

Iceland sat up, rubbing his sore wrists. "How did I even get here?"

"I brought ya h're," Kalmar told him, ruffling Iceland's hair fondly.

"How did you bring me here if we're in a parallel world?" Iceland ducked his head and scowled at the realm.

"The volc'no er'pted, op'ning a port'l b'tween our w'rlds." Kalmar tugged on an earring again, scowling back at Iceland.

"Ow! Stop doing that." Iceland glared at Kalmar. "I don't get why you want me. Don't you have another brother?"

"Nej, I k'lled th'm all," Kalmar growled, seizing Iceland by the throat and dragging him from the room.

"Ow, I'm sorry. What did I do?" Iceland tugged at Kalmar's hand, his eyes wide with fear. What was with Kalmar's mood swings?

"Ya are act'ng l'ke a brat." Kalmar dragged Iceland out of the house and to the edge of the forest. "I'm going ta leave ya fer Moder to t'ke c're of." Opening the door to a cage, he threw Iceland in and locked it. "H've fun, Moder l'kes ta play w'th her food b'for she eats it."

"What? Kalmar?" Iceland shook the door of the cage, watching as Kalmar returned to the house. "Let me out!"

Frost slowly grew across the dead grass as the cold seeped into the ground. Iceland turned to look, his eyes wide. He began to shake the bars with more vigor.

"Let me out, Kalmar!"

Icy breezes grew into freezing gales and snow began to fall at a ridiculous rate. Iceland had never seen a blizzard grow so quickly.

"Ah!" Iceland wrapped his arms around himself, his tail curling around him. Shivering in the cold, he muttered under his breath. "Fyrirgefðu. (I'm sorry.)"

Iceland didn't know how long he stayed in that cage, but his bare arms were taking on a blue tinge and he had lost feeling in his ears and tail. Even though the snow didn't say on the ground, it was still freezing cold to the touch and tortured the captured nation with every sharp flake.

Iceland was so numb he barely noticed when a cold hand touched his shoulder. Jumping and shivering, he looked over his shoulder. A pale woman wearing a long fur cloak floated behind him, her white hair fanning out in the snow.

The woman opened the door to the cage and beckoned Iceland out. Hesitantly, Iceland obeyed.

"Who are you?" he asked, staring at the woman with wide eyes. The woman just smiled and moved forward in the blizzard. She motioned for Iceland to follow her. Slowly, he did. "Who are you?" he asked louder.

The woman stopped outside the door to the house and knocked softly. It was a moment before the door opened to reveal Kalmar. The warmth of the house radiated out to wash over Iceland who ducked behind the woman. Shivering in the cold, his ears lay miserably on his head and his tail hung limp. Kalmar watched Iceland with cold eyes.

"Fyrirgefðu," Iceland whispered.

Kalmar's serious face broke out into a grin. "Tak, Moder!" he said happily. Mother Nature was a friend of his who brought a blizzard with her whenever she visited. She was a very loving creature who would never allow someone like Iceland to die in the cold.

Mother Nature nodded to Kalmar, smiled down at Iceland, and then dissipated into the snow. Kalmar stepped aside for Iceland to scurry into the house. Iceland stood before the realm, looking down at the floor.

"Do ya w'nt s'me Hákarl?" Kalmar asked gently, wrapping a thick blanket around Iceland.

"Um, yes please." Iceland pulled the blanket tighter around himself. There it was again, Kalmar's mood swings.

"Sit by the f're and get w'rm, I'll br'ng ya d'nner." Kalmar disappeared into the kitchen.

Iceland walked over and sat by the crackling fireplace. Drawing his legs up, he rested his chin on his knees.

"What's happening?"

%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%

England mindlessly wandered the street lined with small houses. Iceland had said his home was somewhere down this street. Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and Northern Ireland had wanted to hang out with England today but the young Celtic nation just wanted some alone time. His brothers had been clingy ever since World War Three.

'Where was it?' England wondered, ruffling his wings with annoyance. "See if I ever trust Denmark for directions ever again," he muttered to himself.

A house loomed ahead at the end of the street. The door had been left ajar and there were footprints in the ash on the lawn. England froze for a split second before he dashed through the door.

"Iceland!" England called. "Are you in here?" He wandered into the living room, glancing around.

"Britannia?" a voice asked.

England whirled around in surprise. "Scotland? What are you doing here? And what did you do to your hair and wings?" His oldest brother had dyed his hair brown, his wings were gone.

"A can't believe yer alive," the stranger said, stepping forward. He stared at England with wide orange eyes.

"What are you talking about?" England asked, confused. "I just had to convince you to give me an hour of peace and quiet." He fanned his wings lightly. Something was off here.

"What are ye talking about, Britannia?" The male nation frowned in confusion.

England froze. "You're not Scotland, are you?" he asked slowly.

"Naw." The stranger shook his head. "A'm Alba. These are ma brothers, Cambria and Emerald Isle." Doppelgangers of Wales and Ireland appeared on either side of England.

"What are you doing here?" England tensed. His eyes flicked between Cambria and Emerald Isle, calculating.

"We want ye back, Britannia," Alba told him. "We never mean ta do that ta ye."

"Do what?" England pulled his wings taught against his back.

Alba hesitated before nodding sadly. "We never meant ta kill ye."

England gaped at Alba in shock before he snapped his wings open, knocking Cambria and Emerald Isle over. He raced for the open window, hoping to escape, but Alba tackled him to the floor.

"Ye can't expect ta escape from someone who has experience with this," Alba said as he pinned England down.

"Get off!" England pumped his wings violently.

"Don't fight us, Britannia." Emerald Isle and Cambria pinned England's wings to the floor as Alba pulled his wrists back.

"No, let me go!" England tried to free his wings and jerked at his captured wrists.

Alba sighed as he withdrew rope from his pocket and bound England's hands tightly behind his back.

"We can't do that, Britannia," Alba said. "We aren't going ta lose ye again."

England thrashed wildly against his captors' grips. One wing broke free, nearly beaming Emerald Isle in the head.

"Dammit!" Emerald Isle attempted to pin the wing back to the floor.

With a pump of his wings and a wild buck, England threw the brothers off him and stumbled to his feet panting.

"You are most certainly not my brothers," England panted. What was with these doppelgangers?

"Get it out," Alba snarled. He leapt at England, wrapping his arms around the Celtic nation.

"What?" England thrashed in Alba's grip, trying in vain to free himself. Cambria reached into his pocket and withdrew a thin, crown-like object. "What is that?" England jerked away from the approaching realm.

"It's simple, Britannia." Cambria lowered the circlet onto England's ahead. It rested against his forehead and a tingling sensation raced through England's body. "You can't fight us when it's on."

England collapsed in Alba's arms, his wings hanging limp from his back. "T-That's unfair fighting," he gasped out.

"If it's the only way ta get ye ta comply with us," Alba said as he hoisted England onto his shoulder. "Then A'll do it." England groaned, wishing his real brothers would charge into the room and rescue him.

The three realms took England to the base of Eyjafjallajökull. The volcano shuddered as they entered a tunnel underneath it. Their bodies seemed to vibrate as a white light surrounded them. England eyes widened and his face turned a slight green color with the churning sensation in his stomach.

"A portal?" England asked.

The light faded away and the group stepped out of another belching volcano. The sky was no longer black, but a blood red color. The streets of the city were silent and overgrown with plants. There wasn't a sign of life in the city.

It had taken a lot of convincing to get Kalmar to allow them onto what was once Iceland. The realm had been very defensive of the only thing he had left of his brother. But, then again, Kalmar had always been protective of his siblings. If anyone so much as appeared on one of his brother's doorsteps with a sword in hand, the realm was there to protect them with his axe.

"W-What is this place?" England looked around nervously.

"Welcome ta Globe."

A/N: Mother Nature is the equivalent of General Winter.

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