Hiya guys, sorry this is late, I am having trouble getting in contact with Rosey, her phone is cursed... or she just doesn't like me. I like to think the phone is cursed as the other one isn't that nice.
Also thanks for reading this far, I know that it is quite a bit different from the start. Probably not what you were expecting but thanks :D
Right warnings, I bet you love my warnings.
This is sad and may go against head canons so be warned.
Historically inaccurate due to the ghost.
Let's get started
"Freddo?" the elder Kirkland offered those sitting behind him on Dewi's back. Canada, knowing what the chocolate was, nodded from his spot behind Prussia, who, although having no idea what was being offered, on seeing Canada agree and deciding it couldn't be anything bad, hesitantly did the same. England however, glared.
'You are trying to wind me up aren't you?'
"I don't know what you are on about brawd. What could be wrong in offering my brawd a chocolate which costs 20p? It didn't use to be that much did it?"
As expected, the Welshman received a punch on the arm. Even though he knew Arthur was in the foul mood due to everything going on, it was fun to tease his brother over small things, he didn't do it that much and what better time than when he couldn't speak?
"Oh these are Freddos, gott, how can you get so wound up over a frog shaped chocolate? You went on a ficken rant once at a meeting about them when someone mentioned the economy."
"Yep, these are the major cause of grief for my brawd."
"I have kinder eggs on me if you want some, eh."
"Are we having a picnic on a dragon?"
"Seems that way. Brawd wants one by the way Matthew, if you pass it to Gilbert he'll give it to him, the toy will cheer him up."
"Can we have some fairy cakes, eh?"
"Oh yeah, hold on." Wales then started to dig into his pockets which were similar to Mary Poppins' bag, only full of snacks. Prussia watched in amazement as the Welshman brought out 20 chocolate bars, 8 energy drinks, 17 tubes of Polos and a plastic container containing the fairy cakes England had made earlier.
Looking down at the Englishman between his legs, Prussia tried to determine if this was normal for the Welshman (no dirty thoughts, Canada is behind Prussia... wait a sec). What he found was the angel entertaining himself with the little toy that had come from the kinder egg, a small car, and not paying any attention to his brother.
Seeing as his friend wasn't paying any attention to what was going on, Gilbert turned to face the Canadian behind him. Even though Canada couldn't see the ghost, he seemed perfectly happy sitting behind Prussia whilst munching on a cake. Apparently this was normal then.
"How long till we get there Sweetie?...Lambie...? Gott, I still need to find a nickname for you."
"Judging by the speed Dewi is flying, about 29 minutes away. Can't you think of anything more original than Lambie?"
"Hey, I said that I was going to keep trying for something more awesome. Give me a bit of time, you can't rush awesomeness of nickname giving."
To be honest, Prussia wasn't that sure what nickname to give the Welshman as out of the brothers, he was the one he knew the least about. Wales mainly kept to himself, was fairly relaxed and seemed to let his brothers do most of the talking, only contributing when he felt he needed to.
Prussia knew that he was physically the same age as England but actually older than the smaller blonde - it was during his empire days that England had a growth spurt and caught up with his brother. Wales enjoyed singing to himself and watching rugby, he also liked tending to animals, but that was about all the Prussian knew.
Now was Gilbert's chance to learn about the middle Kirkland, but then he also knew that this Dylan was partly fake. A show.
Due to Northern Ireland being injured, all the brothers were shaken rather badly. The smallest of them had been attacked and they had been able to do nothing to prevent it. Seeing Connor looking so fragile was so heart stabbingly painful, it almost broke them.
Of course they carried on though, they had a job to do after all. One which, if they didn't accomplish it, the eldest would be hit as well and possibly another.
They all knew that Ireland was likely to be hit as Hong Kong hadn't been able to use the key card he'd got from Japan. Although he could use the reference number to slow down the attack, he couldn't halt it. Only Japan himself had the power to do so.
Right now Patrick was pacing Antonio's house on borrowed time, waiting to be hit. It was killing him not being able to prevent it and just waiting, but still he tended to his little brother.
All of the brothers needed a distraction, whether that was looking after another or preparing for battle. None of them wanted to dwell on what could happen, and what had. They were focusing on the now, finding ways to entertain themselves.
That is how Prussia knew that the smile Wales was giving him was a fake. Even though the Welsh nation was usually pretty friendly, he knew it was being forced. This may be Wales that he was talking to, but was it Dylan?
"Brawd, I think your friend has taken a trip to la la land."
'That doesn't surprise me, he'll snap out of it by the time we land. Thinking *takes a* lot of effort for him, so it will be best if we don't disturb him.'
"It seems dear little Matthew is enjoying the flight, it must be very strange for him."
The Englishman looked over his and the still pondering Prussia's shoulders to look at the North American nation. He understood what Wales was going on about as the Canadian had repositioned himself so he was lying on his back, gazing up at the sky whilst eating one of the Freddos Wales had given him. There was a sense of wonder shining in those lilac eyes, one which caused England to smile warmly.
'He did always enjoy fantasy stories, although I am not quite sure why he banned magic in his country, then again, that was his boss's choice. And yes I suppose it is, lying on something invisible which is also causing to you travel though the sky at unimaginable speed.
'Have you heard from James?'
The previous warm feeling that had filled angel was replaced with a knot in his stomach. A feeling of dread.
The angel looked to his brother, it was clear that he understood the question, he was probably experiencing the same thing.
Although England wasn't connected to Ireland like he was his other brothers, he could still feel if something was wrong with one of his brothers. They all could. If one of the Kirkland's was in trouble, the others would feel some sort of dread.
It wasn't completely clear who had been injured but, due to the current circumstances, the brothers had a fairly good idea. This was only confirmed when Wales paused and pressed his fingers to his ear, his expression turning glum.
Hong Kong couldn't stall the attack any longer and although Ireland's defences had managed to lessen some of the attack, it couldn't altogether stop it. It was thanks to Hong Kong's and New Zealand's efforts however, that the country was able to find places for most of its citizens to survive the blast.
"Scotland is the next target, Jack has arrived in Spain and is helping Alistair along with Joao and Antonio. Apparently, Joao has set him to cleaning the house as he was uncomfortable with the blood."
'The lad is fine with blood, he just doesn't like tending to people as they usually have less trust in you than animals, in his case anyway... We'll stop this before Scotland gets attacked, I don't think we will hear the end of it from Alistair otherwise.'
Wales smiled sadly, slowly nodding his head in agreement. The Welshman then turned his attention to the scenery down below, trying to make out where exactly they were. Now he just wanted this journey to end so they could just send that ghost straight to hell. He did not have a good feeling about this.
Having been told by New Zealand where exactly Hong Kong was with Japan, Wales had asked Dewi to fly by the window that had been left open for them. Prussia was first off the dragon's back, having been brought out of his deep thoughts the moment they started to descend. England soon followed after, so Canada knew where to step when dismounting. Wanting to thank his friend for his time, Wales was last to leave the red dragon.
The group was greeted by an exhausted looking Leon, it was clear that he had had little to no sleep since the day before. The teenager had been working through most of the night trying to delay the attack on the British Isles and, despite booby trapping the room against potential adversaries, he still hadn't felt completely safe sleeping in a building he had snuck into. He had eventually got a bit of sleep, but not enough.
"How much sleep did you get, eh?" Matthew asked once Dylan was safely through the window, his voice even quieter than normal. He probably wouldn't have been heard normally, but Hong Kong had grown used to the county's soft voice.
Looking up from his feet, the Asian gazed into lilac eyes, but didn't actually focus on them. He racked his memory for any time that he'd fallen asleep and added it up together. "Like, three hours at the most. I'm still good for this though, I can still fight."
"I don't think that's quite enough Leon, have a quick rest. I have Kumajichi with me anyway to help fight any ghosts, I will wake you up if anything happens, eh?" The Canadian gestured to the polar bear that seemed to have materialised at his side, no one had seen the bear up until then. Maybe the bear was the one that had invisibility powers but, because he was always with Canada, caused the nation not to be seen by most people.
Hong Kong simply raised his eyebrows, his expression a mixture of exhaustion, confusion and thoughtful. He swayed on his feet a bit, as if he was too busy thinking to remember how to stand, before he nodded and walked to the sofa on one side of the room.
England watched his 'son', feeling guilty yet proud, the poor boy was under a lot of stress. He felt relieved that Canada was looking after his family, also at the appearance Kumajiro. He still had no idea how that bear could just pop up out of nowhere every now and then, though he supposed it came in handy when travelling.
"Ready brawd?"
The Welshman was looking down at the Japanese nation lying on a mat on the floor, his head propped up with a pillow. Dylan stayed that way for a few seconds before he turned to face his brother, remembering that Arthur couldn't actually answer unless the person was facing him.
'Yes, I know that this spirit has something against us though. They went after Connor first, why would a ghost that knows that we have the power to stop them, go after the least experienced.
'They knew that Connor would be a huge blow to all of us, he is so young. It's unfair. Ever since he became a country he has been under attack.
'This arsehole has made it personal Dylan, why wasn't Patrick attacked first? He knows the most about magic, then its Alistair.'
"You can do a lot more magic than any of us brawd."
'That is only because of this form and how close I became with the Creatures of Old when I was young. I don't have as great a understanding of magic as you do. Just because you are good at something doesn't necessarily mean that you understand it.'
"But you do have the strongest magic, I don't understand why they didn't attack you first."
'I don't have a skill in magic like you do though, the only reason why I can leave my body so easily is because of, well you know why. I don't think that I quite agree with you on that one.'
"What, you being strong? Of course you are, why do you think the Creatures of Old allowed you near? I am not going to stand here though and boost your self-esteem brawd, I think this ghost has something against you.
"All ghosts know that you are a threat to them, yet he went after Connor first. You are the last to be targeted, they want to make you suffer Arthur. Everyone knows that harming us, harms you, the pain increasing with each one of us that falls. They have something against you and I am worried."
"No need to worry, the awesome me will look after Birdie, no doubt you will too...Bunny? Nein, that doesn't sound right. Fick, why are you so hard to come up with a nickname? Can't call you Bunny everyone calls Birdie, Bunny."
Both Britons stared at the ghost for a few seconds, contemplating how long he had been there before exchanging glances. Neither really seemed to know how they should react, finding themselves staring at the ghost again with a lost expression on their faces.
"I was standing here the whole time but was quiet as I am awesome like that and knew you needed to talk. Whatever you are worried about Birdie, you are not going to face it alone as that would be unawesome."
"He is right you know, brawd. I'm not going to lie and say that I'm not worried, but I will protect you. I also know that you will do the same for me."
The smaller blonde rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, he scoffed as he walked over to Japan, but neither Wales nor Prussia failed to notice the smile in his eyes. The pair left England to perform the spell needed so Canada and Hong Kong could see the ghosts, and made eye contact, making a silent agreement.
With the spell completed, much to England's delight that he could still do some spells without talking, the nations crowded around Japan. Taking a deep breath, Wales lay down on the ground, wanting to enter Japan's mind first so the ghost was more likely to change the environment to affect him rather than his brother. Thinking along the same lines, Prussia dived into Japan's mind before Wales could, cackling in victory as he did so.
Arthur hesitated though, he wanted to make sure that his two 'boys' were ok before leaving.
As if reading Arthur's mind, Matthew smiled at his former caretaker,"Don't be too long eh, I don't think Leon has eaten much in a while. He probably packed something, but I don't think it was much."
England looked thoughtful for a few seconds before he walked over to his brother's limp form and stuck a hand into his pocket. Sticking his tongue out as he dug in deeper, his whole arm becoming engulfed by the Welshman's pocket. Struggling, England had to put both of his arms into his brother's pocket, apparently still unsuccessful, he then sighed heavily and proceeded to also dig his head into the tardis of pocket.
For a moment, Canada was seriously worried about England's safety, if he fell into the pocket, would he be able to get back out again? Finding himself edging closer, Canada prepared himself to grab hold of England if it was just his leg poking out of the pocket, to save him from falling in completely.
Luckily Canada didn't need to save the Englishman from the dangers of the elder Kirkland's pocket, as he started to remerge. There was a faint pop as a mop of blonde hair became visible, soon followed a pair of arms. Looking down at the victorious smile of the Briton, Canada couldn't help but smile at him, especially when he saw the bundle of sweets in his arms.
"How big is that pocket, could you have actually fallen into it, eh?" the Canadian chuckled as he aided the Englishman to his feet. England gave the North American nation a silent chuckle and handed over his prize. The Englishman then nodded and, gesturing to the pocket, lightly flapped his wings.
"You could fly in there?" the Canadian asked, dumbfounded. He knew that England's wings were large and would need a lot of room to spread out fully, let alone fly. He had seen the Englishman fly in a confined space before, not very gracefully, but that amount of space was still huge considering that that was the Welshman's pocket.
Once again, the angel nodded but this time he walked away from the Canadian and lay down next to his brother. He gave Canada a thumbs up before his body went limp as his soul left his body.
As soon as England's soul entered the Japanese nation's body, the temperature in the room dropped. Tearing his gaze away from the Englishman, Matthew looked up to see hungry shadows lurking around the boundary of the spell. A deep growl rumbled from Kumajiro's throat, his hairs standing on end and his large white paws growing in size.
Canada stood beside his friend, now the size of an actual polar bear, his guns loaded. Lilac eyes grew ominous as a growl escaped his own throat. One does not threaten to harm those Canada cares about, and gets away with it without going to hell and back.
"Oh good, I needed target practice."
Heat. He was surrounded by heat. Even though the angel had his eyes closed he knew exactly where he was, and he wanted to scream. Already he could feel the dull burn in his chest beginning to grow in intensity.
Thick ash was clogging up his lungs. The smell of smoke and blood was poisonous to his system. He couldn't hear the screams of his brother and friend over the wails of the sirens or the cracks of thunder that shook the earth beneath him.
Only upon feeling a pair of hands clamp on to his shoulders did the Englishman open his eyes, immediately gagging at the sight. He fought the blood pooling in the back of his throat, only for it to be a fruitless effort as he coughed it up due to the sight before him.
His home, his heart, his London had been reduced to rubble. Flames littered the streets, licking at the once proud buildings and people who'd built them. The sky was an angry grey made from plumes of smoke that stalked away from their fiery orange source.
The flames made the otherwise dark night bright enough to see the mangled and dismembered bodies that were sprawled out on nearly every surface. It made the tears that escaped the terrified people's eyes visible as the cried in both pain and fear. It made England fully aware of those suffering around him, those he was meant to protect.
Each scream that escaped a Briton's lips thundered in the nation's head, drumming against his skull, threatening to break out. Every tear that fell was like a stab to his heart. He could feel them, every last one of his people and it was agony.
"BIRDIE! ARTHUR! GOTT LOOK AT ME‼ Dylan, I can't get him to snap out of it!"
"BRAWD! This isn't actually happening. Focus on the details Arthur! They are not accurate!"
"I thought this Arschloch would focus on me first rather than him, or you, that's why we went in before him."
"He has gone after me as well as you. Look up at the sky Gilbert, who is dropping the bombs? I see the pain in your eyes as well Gil, don't lie to me, this is affecting you too. Even though it doesn't look like your country, it reminds you of the bombs dropped on you."
The Prussian instinctively placed a hand over his heart which was burning against his chest. The pain was manageable but still enough to cause trouble in his breathing. He knew that this wasn't his city, no landmarks that belonged to him, yet it still burned. Buildings in flames and the sound of bombs dropping sparked the pain which he tried to forget in his chest. This wasn't his city in flames though, this was Arthur's, the pain the Englishman was feeling was going to be closer to the original.
Hesitantly Prussia craned his head up, only to go pale at his discovery. He thought it was the Great fire of London due to the flames, but he was wrong. Filling the sky like a swarm of wasps was the Luftwaffe. No, not this again. He and his brother were still facing hardships for what their countries had done during that time. When they had heard of the plan, they were both outraged, Prussia had even gone as far as to hit a general and had been thrown into a cell as a result.
Not the Second World War, the mark of his downfall. The number of deaths held against him, the failure and his fall. His title stripped away from him causing him to gradually grow weaker. Not again.
"GILBERT! DON'T YOU DARE START PANICKING ON ME NOW! I need you to help me prove to Arthur that this isn't real, I need you to help my brawd!" The Welshman's usually gentle voice was stern and commanding, holding so much power that Prussia had no choice but to face the teary eyed Briton. It was affecting the Welshman as well.
"Look, this is hard on me as well - this was the only time I saw him weak since we were young. I don't want to see it again Gilbert, he is already suffering from phantom pains. He's coughing up blood for Christ's sakes!"
This was true, the Englishman's legs were trembling under the weight if his own body, threatening to give way. His usually bright green orbs were dull and full of despair, reflecting the devilish flames. His normally already pale skin was now even more so, causing the blood that trailed down his chin to be even more prominent.
He was fighting though. Prussia could just about make out the soundless words that the Englishman was telling himself.
'It's not real Arthur, that statue is on the other side of the river. Notice the flaws Arthur. The bricks are not dense enough, they are too light and the wrong colour. It's not the Blitz. You have gone through this before Arthur, this is just a memory, not a very good one at that.
'Suck it up you bloody idiot. These are phantom pains, pain attached to memories. They are not real. Besides, Malta suffered worse and yet you hardly heard a peep from her. Get a grip. Get it together or this will happen to Alba and you will never hear the end of it.'
If it wasn't for the current circumstances, Prussia would have laughed at the Englishman complaining about Scotland, which his convincing himself had now turned into. Wanting to snap his friend out of his rant, Prussia grabbed hold of the British nation, surprising him with a hug. It was only with Prussia's chest against the shorter nation did the albino feel something warm and sticky.
"Fick, your chest is bleeding. Badger, do you have a first aid kit or something?"
"Badger?"
'I think that he is going through your natural wildlife now to find a nickname.'
"Oh, I don't think that one works. Peidiwch â phoeni (don't worry) Gilbert, I don't think that it's still bleeding is it, brawd?"
The Englishman looked down at his black one piece suit and gently pressed his hand over where he felt the sticky substance. Although it was slightly sore, it wasn't an open wound anymore. It must have stopped some point during his rant.
'The wound has already closed, I'm in no danger. If anything slightly uncomfortable with the dampness rubbing against my chest.'
"Don't be picky, brawd. Gilbert, he is fine, let's move on. I don't like this ghost, it knows about what troubles us and is willing to use it against us. Stay close to each other so we can snap each other out of it. Remember that they can't actually see your memories and are just fabricating fake ones by using what is known about our history."
Whilst Wales spoke, he started to lead the group forward, England stumbling a bit, his body still getting over the phantom pains. Gilbert provided the Brit support to keep upright, noticing how the Englishman seemed to act as if he was wearing blinkers. Apparently these blinkers were not able to block out the Prussian, as England gave him a scolding look and pointed to his ears, not impressed that the ghost wasn't listening to the Welshman.
"It seems that you have caught on to my plan rather quickly my friend, can't have you ruining my plans now." (spoken in French)
"What in Gott's name was that!?"
"The possessing ghost. Brawd?"
"Birdie?! ARTHUR?!" Prussia screeched when he felt the weight of the Englishman suddenly vanish from his shoulder. The albino spun round, as did Wales.
Wales first looked to his brother, wanting to see his reaction to the ghost being French, knowing that the Englishman would be pissed off. He didn't expect to see shadows crash into the angel like a wave. His arm was outstretched towards the pair, his emerald eyes wide as the shadows wound around his neck.
Prussia was about to grab hold of the English nation's hand, when he felt something latch onto his feet, forcing him to the ground. Shadows soon engulfed his body, keeping him pinned to the floor. German curses were being spewed out of the dark form, before they suddenly fell silent.
Wales's heart leapt into his throat as he turned round to find that his brother had vanished, as had Prussia. He was alone in the burning remains of his brother's capital.
"Now Wales, what can you live through again? Stall you until the next strike. Now, you are the most quiet out of your brothers, yes, but you have been in so many wars. A lot of them against the one you share a border with."
Dylan's blood ran cold as grass sprouted from the ground, the concrete under his feet turned into smoke, replaced with scorched dirt. The sound of clashing swords and battle cries were deafening, shaking the Welshman to his very soul.
Blood stained the otherwise fresh grass that would playfully tickle his feet. The usually cool and carefree wind, howled and whipped his cheeks making them numb with cold. The usually partially cloudy sky was clear, allowing the sun to beam down on the battlefield, highlighting the death that was happening around him.
In the midst of the battle were two blondes, one was just in his teen years whereas the other was just about to become one. The two children were fighting with more skill than any of the fighting fully grown men. The elder was red in the face yelling in a language that the other seemed to be having trouble understanding, this only seemed to further enrage the elder.
The younger looked confused by what the other was saying, before he too became furious and swung his sword at such speed that the other barely had time to block. England was screaming in broken Celtic, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Wales halted at his brother's words, which gave the other a chance to attack, bringing his sword down.
The present day Wales looked away as the sound of metal hitting metal resonated around the battlefield. He knew that this wasn't real, they'd actually been younger when this battle took place, still it pained him to see it.
He saw slight changes in the scenery going on around him, no doubt another war. He paid it no attention though, instead he focused at his feet, refusing to look. He spotted the flaws in the previous battle, the terrain was wrong, faults in the uniform.
"So much hostility in your family, isn't there? He hurt you Wales, yet you still help each other, why?"
"We weren't very nice to him when he was young, I think that makes us even. Also, he's family." The Welsh nation felt his eyebrow twitch, this ghost was playing them. He definitely had something against England, not only England but the rest of British Isles too. The questions was why?
The ghost's cold laugh echoed around him. There was sadistic joy in the voice. "You are good at keeping cool under pressure, not letting these things get to you. Oh, perhaps it is because you have had time to get over these memories, how about something more recent?"
"I haven't had any wars with my brothers as of recent."
"Doesn't have to be a fight with your family my friend, just an unpleasant time."
"What?"
A look of confusion flashed across the Welshman's face as he looked around him. He was filled with pure horror as the battlefield morphed into a damp cell. Hanging from the wall was a beaten Wales. Dry blood clumped the blonde's fringe together and his pale skin was marred with bruises and burns.
There was a creak at the door and a stoic looking Germany entered. His eyes gazed upon the broken Welshman with a pained look. Considering that the German nation was in his room, that meant that it was nine at night - time for his daily rations, his captors' way of abiding by the rules regarding prisoners of war, though Wales was pretty sure that torturing went against them. It had been whipped into him, literally, that because he was a nation he had no human rights. He wouldn't get fed if it wasn't for Germany giving him a bit of his own rations.
"Your bruder..." the German faltered as soon as he saw the defiant gleam in the Welshman's eyes. Shifting on his feet, Germany took in a deep breath to compose himself. As he spoke again, his voice cracked a few times, sounding hoarse.
"Your bruder has been bombed... there will be another attack tomorrow, until he gives up."
"He won't."
"Was? (What?)"
"He won't give in, my brawd, any of them. I'm assuming that you mean Arthur, he is the one more likely to be targeted." The Welshman's voice was monotone, dead, causing the German to swallow thickly. This brave nation looked like a shell of what he once was, he had appeared so strong until now. This sniper was responsible for taking down multiple whole squadrons single handedly. This single solider out to perform his own mission, having survived just under a year on his own, only to get caught under rubble when a tank blew up the building he was in.
"If England does not back down, Northern Ireland will also be targeted." Germany didn't even finish when an enraged scream erupted from Wales's throat. Germany watched with a morose expression as tears fell freely from the Welshman's eyes as he fought against the chains keeping him from escaping.
Welsh curses poured out of his mouth like a waterfall, the nation beating himself up over the fact that he couldn't be with his brother now to comfort him, to try and ease his pain. Knowing Arthur, he knew that Britain wouldn't surrender and that Connor was also going to be attacked. He had failed the task designated to him and was trapped here unable to do anything.
"Do you remember how you found your brother once you were finally rescued by one of your 'nephews', Canada I believe?"
"You bastard! If you are going to torture me, at least get the details correct. Almaen (Germany) had been beaten for disobeying his boss. You may not get this whoever the fuck you are, but none of us want to fight. Why would we want to start a war when every life that is lost affects us?
"Although we seem like we hate each other, whenever a nation crosses paths during a war, we tend to look after each other, even if we are on opposite sides. Yes, we fight each other, but never kill, just seriously harm. We know what it is like to come back after death and it is not something we wish on another.
"So try it again you arsehole, whatever you throw at me, I can take it and carry on. I will send you to hell myself," the Welshman spat his fist clenched, his irises burned in determination at the sky. A laugh echoed around him, as the scenery around him started to fade looking like a blank canvas.
"I believe you my friend, but what of your brother? He has a lot of memories that trouble him, he is a very damaged man, as well as that Prussia."
"NOOO!"
Gasping for air, Gilbert rolled onto his back once he was free from the shadows. Once over the initial shock of what had happened, the albino sprung on to his feet and took in his surroundings.
He couldn't see anything except for endless darkness, for all he knew, he could be in a tiny room or a never-ending void. Reaching out in front of him, Prussia tentatively stepped forward.
"Birdie!? Arthur?!" The Prussian paused, remembering that the Englishman couldn't actually speak and started to call out for his brother. Panicking because he received no reply, Prussia started to run forward, searching for anyone else. He couldn't have passed on could he?
"Why in such a rush?"
At the sound of the familiar voice, Prussia halted and glared at the 'sky'. He was being played with, something that did not go down well with the Prussian.
"What the fick are you doing with us?"
"I am stalling, you see, I know that I am not strong enough to defeat your friend. I need to wait for at least one more of his brothers to get attacked before I can possibly defeat him as well as yourself and Wales."
"Arthur! Why are you so keen on weakening him? Why didn't you go after him first?"
"Ah, that is a good question, why did I? Well you see, I saw you at the meetings and how close the pair of you were. I know that wherever he went, you would follow.
"Although I knew I had to stop all of the British Isles brothers, there is one I dislike more than the others, the one that just so happens to be inseparable from another nation I thought I would never be able to get my revenge on. I wanted the pair of you to suffer at my hand, so I saved you for last. I didn't expect Wales to aid his brother, but he should be dealt with soon enough.
"You see, once the first two were hit, the time between each attack lessens considerably. Even with the extra time that Hong Kong bought, Scotland will be hit within the next 10 minutes. That will affect England too, no? Too bad no one is with him right now."
"You scheißkerl (bastard) where the fick are you so I can kick your arse? You ficken unawesome piece of scheiße, you coward! Come and fight me!"
The Prussian's eyes were ablaze, burning hotter than the flames of hell. His whole frame was shaking in rage, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. His teeth were gritted together, forming a snarl.
"I told you already my friend, I am stalling. Now isn't the time for us to fight, I thought that Wales would have fallen by the time anyone got here, if they would. I didn't anticipate for you to travel by faster methods, I expected for Japan to be in my complete control, seems we are an hour off."
Gilbert was about to yell in fury at the ghost when he caught on what was being said. "Was? Dylan is going to get hit in less than an hour, even with what Leon put in place?"
"Yes, and I will have complete control of Japan. There are a few little flaws in my plan, ones that can be easily rectified, mainly by stalling, like I'm doing now. You have such a war ridden history Prussia, it was hard to choose. Now tell me this, why is it that you have told Germany so little about your past?"
A laugh echoed around the Prussian before it faded in the background, leaving Prussia alone in the dark. Confused and angry, the ghost spun around trying make sense of what was happening. His breaths were coming in quick pants as he sprinted forward trying to find an end to this endless darkness.
He almost collapsed to his knees though when the scenery began to change.
Ahead of him was a deep green space with a tree sitting in the centre acting as some form of shelter for the still figure laying beneath it. Heavy rain crashed onto the ground, washing away the evidence that a battle had just taken place.
Standing slightly further away from the tree was a young teenager. He was wearing a high ranking military uniform consisting of dark reds and blues that was ripped and torn. In his hand was a bloodied broad sword, which dropped to the ground as soon as the white haired teenager looked up.
The figure froze, his pale skin matching the colour of his hair. For a few seconds, nothing happened, until a pained scream exploded from the teenager.
Running, the young knight paid the rain hammering down on him no mind. Not even the muddied ground doing nothing to slow his steps.
Reaching the willow, the younger Prussia fell to his knees, hands hovering over the still form beneath him. Years of fighting in wars was not enough for him to cope with this situation.
There lay a young boy, looking no older than eight. Skin deathly pale, his usually soft, pink lips were turning a sort of grey. His once youthful eyes, full of curiosity, were becoming dull and glazing over. They were much like the sky, a bright blue, appearing endless, now clouded, with droplets leaking from it.
Gingerly, Prussia's shaky hands moved Holy Rome's blood crusted hair out of his eyes, his hat laying a few feet away, causing the younger nation to smile at the gesture. A sob escaped the knight as he saw the light slowly fading from his brother's eyes.
Terrified by how fast his brother was seeming to fade, Prussia started to rip his uniform into strips, making makeshift bandages. A croaking noise escaped the small blonde and, quickly shushing the boy, Prussia ripped open his brother's clothes.
A wave of tears flowed freely from crimson orbs at the sight of his brother's wounds. They were fatal. He should be dead by now, even if he was a nation, yet the boy continued to fight on. Was it pure stubbornness or was it something else?
Being stubborn himself, Prussia didn't accept his brother's fate. No, he tore off his shirt, leaving his naked scarred chest exposed to the elements, and applied pressure to the huge hole that took up his brother's whole torso. The material was quickly stained red and did nothing to halt the flow of the warm liquid.
The rise and fall of Holy Rome's chest grew slower and slower until it was nearly non-existent, his breaths coming in raspy shudders. His skin was becoming even paler and was now nearly as cold as ice, the rain not doing much to help him, despite being mainly sheltered by the tree.
Regardless of the amount he was suffering, Holy Rome continued to smile at the nation above him, unaffected by the droplets of rain that rolled down his dirt covered cheeks, or was it rain? His cloudy blue eyes, could just make out the crimson ones that belonged to his brother, was the water landing on his face coming from the sky or from his brother?
Feeling a hand weakly clasp his own, Prussia looked down at his blood soaked hands to see his little *brother's* small fingers attempting to intertwine with his own. Not having the heart to do anything else, Prussia let his fingers become limp so Holy Rome could succeed in holding his hand and tried not to wince at how cold his touch was.
Not giving up, the knight continued to apply pressure on his brother's wound and dress it at the same time, only to be stopped by another icy hand. Confused, the albino looked to the other's face only to be horrified at his find. His little brother had given up, it became painfully obvious when the blonde shook his head.
"You can't do anything bruder. Stop." The voice was weak, oh so weak. If it wasn't for the fact that his brother could still see him, was looking straight at him, Prussia would have broken there and then. Instead he shook his head furiously and bit back the tears.
"I can't bruder, I was meant to be here to protect you. I was late. I failed you. Keep fighting, you are a nation after all, ja these wounds look bad but they will heal eventually. Please just hang on for me."
"Es tut mir leid mein bruder (I'm sorry my brother) I don't think that I can do that. You didn't fail me, you came didn't you? I thought I was going to die alone and that no one would find me, but you did, because you are mein bruder."
The child smiled again, even though he was on his deathbed, the action seemed effortless. Fresh tears trailed down the Prussian's cheeks at his brother's smile, how could he smile at a time like this?
He was caught off guard when the younger spoke again, "Can you look after Italy for me, and her broom that's in my room?... I really like her."
Not able to say anything, in fear that he would fall apart, the albino nodded and hummed a yes. He knew that Holy Rome had a soft spot for the Italian and couldn't bring himself to tell the blonde that Italy was in fact a boy. Hungary had told him which was a big surprise, apparently he wasn't good at judging genders.
"Gut. Bruder? Could you sing me that lullaby? That way I am only going to sleep for a really long time."
"Ja," was the only thing the knight could say, what else could he do? His heart was cracking, the cracks growing bigger the slower his brother's heartbeat became. He wordlessly leant himself up again the strong tree that was still shielding them from most of the rain, and gently pulled his brother into his lap.
Stroking his brother's damp hair, Prussia began to softly sing the same song he'd sung to his brother on nights a lot like this. It was almost as if nothing was wrong, with the pitta-patta of the rain accompanying the tune the albino sang, it was just like any other stormy night.
Those nights would no longer happen though, as a soft sigh escaped the tiny body. The boy became completely limp in the albino's arms, and although the Prussian couldn't see it, the boy died smiling, looking at peace.
It being the only thing keeping him from losing his mind, Prussia finished the song, even as the young boy's body started to disappear, turning into small balls of light. Even when his fingers were grasping at nothing but air, he didn't stop singing, not until he'd completed his brother's task.
Only when the song was finished did the dam burst. Pure agony blossomed throughout his entire being, he had lost what was most important to him, his purpose, his source of life and it hurt so much. Hot tears stung his cold skin, but were overridden by the thousands of piercing hot needles that were stabbing his heart.
The pain was so intense that it was threatening to explode from his chest. Breathing was difficult, so was blinking. No thoughts made any sense, everything was a blur. All that he knew was pain and that he was alone.
"How did you know that?" The albino ghost's voice was barely above a whisper as he questioned the sky. His chest throbbed due to the resurfaced memories, it took up most of his willpower not to break down sobbing, but he couldn't stop the few tears that escaped.
"Ghosts like to gossip my friend, it turns out that a solider who died during that war was watching the display. He was quite moved and spoke very highly of you."
Prussia said nothing as the other ghost continued to talk, his mind wandering to thoughts of whether all of his private moments were watched by ghosts that he didn't know were there. The fact that this one ghost had told the one possessing Japan about his most hurtful memory, well, he didn't quite know how to feel.
He paid hardly any attention to the changes in scenery around him, his mind too focused on the pain in his chest brought up by the previous vision. His mind was too jumbled to pick up that the uniform was wrong and the fact that Holy Rome didn't speak to him in modern German, but a different language.
Previous battles that he had been in flashed before him, still he paid them no attention. His mind was still focussed on the loss of Holy Rome, thinking about everything that happened around that time. The way that some of the nations reacted to the news and how he turned into a shell of his former self.
His mind then drifted to when Germania brought him Germany, his new little brother. The older nation needed someone to represent a bit of his mind, but didn't want Prussia to just take over the land and name it as part of his own, he wanted to give Prussia a reason for living again.
Germany brought the Prussian back to life, filling the empty void inside of him. He raised the boy, being strict with him, teaching him to fight, he wasn't going to lose another family member. He raised him much like he did for Holy Rome, but never told him of his previous brother, his other older brother, not wanting him to feel that he was just a replacement.
The similarities between the two though were painful, but strangely comforting. It did sometimes feel to the Prussian in the past that Germany was just a replacement, but then that was only on the anniversary of Holy Rome's death.
He finally did snap out of his thoughts when he was being addressed by the possessing ghost, "I expected more of a reaction from you really, instead of just freezing. Pretty boring really. You didn't even pay any attention to being under Russia's control and the fall of your country. Did it hurt that the fact that your friends were behind your fall?"
"There are holes in your knowledge. I told the others at the end of the war that any major punishment for the war should fall to me, I wasn't going to lose another bruder. They also helped tear down the wall so fick you!"
"Shame, you are just keeping this together as you are used to the pain. Keeping it bottled up and then suffer later when you feel safer to do so. Conceal, don't feel, don't let them know. How will you be watching another suffer though? I think Scotland is about to be hit, do you want to see how that affects England?"
"Was?" Prussia eyes widened, his heart skipping a beat. It was true what the other had said, although he was in so much pain, he would keep most of it in until he couldn't anymore. Seeing someone else suffering was harder though.
The darkness around him fell away, revealing a glass cage that held inside a certain Englishman. Already pressed up against the side, slamming his fists against the glass was Wales. The Welsh nation looked over his shoulder at the sound of someone running towards him, a look of sympathy on his face, he'd seen everything.
"Birdie?"
"The bastard is showing him all the wars he has been in, exaggerating the deaths around him. The ghost has learnt that showing us suffering doesn't affect us as much as seeing others suffer, he is showing brawd any that suffered under the British Empire."
The Welshman's eyes were red and puffy, his face blotchy from the tears as he struggled to break both Prussia and England out of their prisons only for it to be useless. He didn't pay the Prussian much attention, as he quickly returned his gaze to his brother who was squeezing his eyes shut, hands over his ears.
"Dil, Alistair is about to be-"
"ARTHUR!" Dylan screamed as he saw England fall to his knees, blood spraying from his lips. The Englishman coughed a few times, wiping the blood in his hands away on his trouser(pants) leg, no longer caring about his clothes. The other two nations watched helplessly as the ragged nation stood shakily, his right arm hanging limply at his side.
Prussia knew that the ghost wasn't finished with the Englishman yet, he has said that he wanted to play with just England and himself, meaning not Wales. Wales had less than an hour before he was meant to be hit, could England hang out until then? Could they?
Wales jumped when a voice came though his earpiece, sounding slightly alarmed. His worry skyrocketed when he heard the message, "A ghost has got past and has dove into Japan's body, you are not alone."
Yeah, sorry about that.
I keep forgetting that England can't actually speak.
England was not nice to his brothers, lots of wars. yeah
Wales does had a sweet tooth, I like him like that.
Prussia was getting phantom pains as he saw destroyed city and his brain automatically tricked him to think of when he was bombed.
that's it for the moment
Again, I am sorry.
review if you want to, and other stuff.
Pm me as well if you need to ask anything or just want to talk to someone, I honestly don't mind :)
see you later