Chapter Two: This is Uncomfortably Familiar…

At first, there is a faint lightness. It feels similar to being submerged beneath the water, but the ability to breathe was still there. There is total darkness all around and a cool breeze wafting by, smoothing over all of the tense muscles and completely loosening all of the senses to a clear mind. Small tingling sensations pulses with every heartbeat and gives the body full euphoria.

This…is the greatest peace… Is this what it's like to die…?

"Hey." Something interrupts this tranquility; a voice calling out. It's familiar and harsh as it speaks. "I told you to leave." Through the shroud of darkness a mass of golden hair emerges, one stray lock pointing skyward. The baby blue eyes are cold as ice behind the bearer's glasses. "I don't need you."

A large weight strikes the abdomen, knocking all the breath away. Panic jolts England awake and he pants heavily, trying to regain his right of mind from the vivid dream. It was quite foolish, really. America would never be that cruel, at least, not these days…

"Useless."

Waves of nausea wash over his body and he shakes at the pure soreness covering him. Even the bit of light shining causes his head to ache and he shields his eyes behind both arms.

What the bloody hell happened? England rubs his eyes lightly, finding it too hard a task to reflect on more than the dream. Perhaps he went off the deep end the previous night and agreed to drinks with France… This doesn't appear to be too unlikely since every fiber of his being was screaming at him…

England fumes at the thought, but remains still until his senses return to a normal enough state to call attention to the very rough ground he was laying on. Something was definitely wrong with this picture… No matter how pissed England got, he always made sure he slept on something flat and comfortable, not…rutted and back-breaking.

"What…?" England keeps his eyes shut as he slowly sits up. The constant hammer of his pulse begins to feel less brutal to his well-being, but he can tell his body has been through hell.

He blinks open one eye to test the waters on his headache with positive results. He rubs both eyes tenderly before opening them fully.

A large mound of broken wood and drywall stops his heart almost instantly.

"You think I'm useless."

"Exactly what I'm getting at."

His heart thuds harder and harder as the horrid memory engulfs him. "A-America?" A quick scan of the area concludes little more than the known wreckage dealt to what was once the conference room, but why was it a wreck again?

England is still in a bit of a dreamlike fog, unable to piece the puzzle together. He glances down at his hands and flexes his fingers. Was this even happening right now? For all he knew he could still be stuck in his own delusions of reality. This wouldn't be the first time… Yes, that was exactly it. This had to be a dream. Nothing was making sense. The false memory of America just caught him off guard was all.

England shakes off the worry. He stands and slowly brushes his suit off. This feels real enough, but, then again, most dreams did… He turns and sees the large crumpled mass that had once been a wall…

His chest swells and eyes widen as the final piece is laid before him.

"I've got Prussia!"

"Brilliant then…"

"What was that?"

"America!" England has his shaking hands on the collapsed wall in seconds, mustering up every bit of strength he has to lift it up.

America had seen the wall flying towards them, England recalls. He had seen it and thought to throw Prussia out of the way. Why? Why would the imbecile not dive out of the way himself? It didn't take much for England to comprehend the heroic intentions, even in that chaotic situation. America was still trying to save everyone before himself because he was so damned irrefutable in his self entitlement. England was going to be, no doubt, America's last daring venture, but England didn't want to sit idly by like the damsel in distress again. He wouldn't let America take this blow, so England had let his actions take control and grabbed his former colony.

Because of the immediate plunge into black obscurity, England assumes he was successful in taking the hit, but then…why wasn't he beneath the wall as well?

England struggles, but manages to lift the heavy burden up to peek beneath it and is greeted with nothing but an abused wooden floor. He drops the wall all at once and falls to his knees, his eyes misting over at the dreadful scenarios racing through his mind. "America…where are you?"

The memories are fleeting, but England recollects Prussia being buried…and before that he was passing Japan and Italy carrying Germany down the hallway and…!

"The basement!" England jumps to his feet with renewed hope. Even if America and Prussia are not in the safe zone, nearly the entire world is! There is little to stress about with everyone lending a helping hand. He sprints just out the door to the small hallway, but stops short.

Just beyond the dilapidated threshold is a vast meadow stretching out to what appears to be fading mountains in the distance. Beautiful flowers of various colors and species cover the field in no specific order, offering their blooming buds up to the sun. It is a spectacular sight. The gentle breeze blows ever so slightly over the blooms, mixing them into a wave of wonderful patterns reminiscent to turning a kaleidoscope.

England is conflicted with feeling awestruck and terrified all at once. Never before has he seen something so astonishing and serene, but that is part of the horror: where is this? Because it definitely isn't New York. And where is the rest of the conference building?!

Panic rises fast when the plain truth sits staring him in the face, but he refuses to acknowledge the idea of being strewn across the United States on the back of a cyclone; it is ridiculous! If anything, surely the remainder of the building was lying around somewhere. Figuring out where he is will come after finding his fellow countries.

England makes his way around the conference room just like he would if the small hallway was still attached and leading to the main hall. To his utter horror, he meets with the same results: an endless field of flowers that fades into mountains in the far distance. No sign of a disturbance from the remainder of the building.

His knees shake and buckle beneath him. He sits uncomfortably where his legs collapsed, staring through the surrounding flowers in shock. Never before had he felt so lost, alone, and powerless…

Sourness prickles within his nose and he covers his face when the hot tears roll down his cheeks.

"What has happened to everyone?"

A small rustling comes from ahead and England removes his hands from his face expectantly, only to see no one approaching. He quirks a brow when the rustling continues to grow closer and glances in all directions for something, anything.

As soon as he steals a glimpse behind him, something slams against his chest. He sputters at the unexpected attack and looks to his assailant, not quite expecting the tiny face panting up at him. "F-Flower-Egg? How on Earth did you get here?"

The white fluff ball yaps happily in return and jumps to try and reach England's face.

England smiles and holds up the cute puppy, chuckling as she licks the remaining tears off his cheeks. "There, there, sweet girl…" He pets the top of her head, feeling more at ease. "Where do you suppose your master, Finland, is, hm? Didn't I leave you with him…?" England remembers Finland being kind enough to take away his worry for America with the promise to hold Flower-Egg until he felt better. "If this is the case…then I suppose I will be keeping you for quite some time…" England ruffles the hair on Flower-Egg's head as she tries to nip at him. He places her on the ground so that he can stand and put his hands on his hips. "Right. Enough moping then, how about we find out where we are?"

Thankfully, having Flower-Egg prancing at his heels is enough to keep England from spiraling into a fit of hysteria with his emotions. It's funny how a small dog can provide a certain form of comfort in such a situation.

The unlikely pair makes their way back to the front of the conference room to scout out the area. England squints when he spots what looks to be the start of a road not too far off in the distance. Perhaps they can find someone that lives nearby if they follow it. Before he gives the idea much more thought, Flower-Egg sniffs the air and gives a small growl, tearing off ahead. England silently questions her behavior and follows behind to see what the fuss is. His blood runs cold when seeing a crumpled figure lying beside the damaged building.

Blond hair stands out against the dark attire, instantly directing focus to the one country constantly coming to mind. "America!" England dashes to the country's side, but discovers quickly that it's not his former colony. "G-Germany…?"

There is a large gash stretching from Germany's eyebrow back into his scalp. The normally slicked back hair is tousled about and hanging loosely around his face. The section surrounding the cut has turned a gruesome brown from the dried blood and is matted to his scalp. England observes the side of Germany's face to find streaks of the dried liquid and a small pool of it next to his head. England gingerly touches the clammy, pale skin and thinks he may be sick when the body is much too cold to be living. "Germany, no…please don't be…"

England glances down at the unusual wardrobe on the German man. He is wearing what appears to be a cloak, the color a deep green with gold and black trimmings creating small curling designs. Beneath is a tunic and trousers of the same color with fewer trimmings and black boots completing his attire.

England grabs Germany's shoulder to hopefully shake him out of his comatose state.

There is a loud cracking sound just ahead of him. It booms in a likeness to lightning and causes England to jump.

"Get away from him!"

England is struck by something powerful and sent flying to his back. He dazedly blinks up at the sky, a funny feeling tingling throughout his shoulder and arm where he was hit. Wait, this feeling, it… England sits up and glances at the black scorch mark on his suit. This is…magic!

Flower-Egg rushes into his lap with little whimpers. England pets her fur to help calm her down while he eyes the figure hunched over Germany's body. This person is wearing a cloak much like Germany's, only in a deep royal blue color with a more intricate pattern of silver and black trimmings.

England's eyes widen when the figure begins to stand, a flash of white hair catching the sun's rays. "Prussia…?"

The ex-country turns to England with a menacing sneer. "You killed him…"

England's heart rate picks up at the utter pain and hostility in Prussia's voice and the weight of his statement. "No, I-he-he was fine! Japan and Italy, I saw them-"

"You killed him!" Prussia slings his arm and faces his palm towards England.

A small burst of fire erupts from Prussia's hand and comes spiraling towards England. He quickly rolls out of the way, encasing Flower-Egg in his arms. His thoughts are racing in his panic. Germany was with Japan and Italy before, so why is he out here by himself now and how did he die? And why is Prussia accusing and trying to kill England? And where the bloody hell did he learn this level of magic?!

"I will never forgive you!"

England tries to stand to protect himself and Flower-Egg more efficiently, but another round of three fire bursts are spiraling at him. There was no rolling away from this one, but England was certain he could withstand the burns as long as Flower-Egg was protected. He completely covers the little, crying puppy behind his arms and legs, anticipating the searing pain.

A loud shatter of glass is heard and he peeks up to see the balls of flame explode against a round barrier before him. He blinks, knowing he hadn't the time to cast a defensive spell…

"Now, now…" England jumps at another voice speaking from behind him. "You shouldn't be running around setting fire to people. It's awfully rude," the scolding voice is familiar…

England turns his head to see Hungary pressing her hands to her hips. A strapless, light green dress sparkles and hugs her torso, showing off her lovely curves. It then billows out loosely past her waist, stopping just at her ankles to reveal light pink, dress shoes that match the lily behind her right ear.

Prussia doesn't appear phased by Hungary's entrance, as though this setting is normal for both of them. He points a finger to England. "Don't you fucking tell me I'm being rude! Do you have any clue as to what this guy did? He killed my brother!" England feels sweat trickling down his brow when he spots light flames dancing around Prussia's hands in his rage.

Hungary gives the limp figure on the ground a worried glance and starts to walk towards him. "I may be able to help-"

"You won't do a damn thing," Prussia growls lowly.

This stings the woman a bit and she stops in her tracks. Her soft features flare up in anger after a pause. "And all you're going to do is kill this poor man?" She throws a hand back at England. "That will prove nothing! Let me help." Hungary steps closer again, this time able to make her way to Germany's side.

The proximity between the two makes Prussia anxious. "Get away from him!"

Hungary sits lightly on her knees beside Germany and places a hand against the dried scar on his scalp. "Tell me, how is Roderich doing?"

England watches in confusion. Who is Roderich?

Prussia's fallen expression indicates there is no confusion in the name. He stands still, watching Hungary examine his brother. Then his demeanor suddenly turns very cold. "Always Roderich, huh? So that's what this is all about… You don't really care about my brother. You can act like you do, but guess what? You'll never see that stupid, stuck up, aristocrat again!"

Hungary flinches at the venom in Prussia's tone.

Prussia grabs the corner of his cloak before looking up to England. "Don't you worry; I'm not through with you." The albino man pivots on his heel, twirling the cape around to his other shoulder. The cloak encases the man and continues to spin until a flash emits from where he stood, emitting a loud cracking similar to before, and he's gone.

England has no clue to where he is, but the fact that Prussia is pulling high level magic with ease concerns him, especially with the murderous intentions the ex-country has. England sighs, knowing he can finally relax for the time being and eases his tense muscles. He reflects on the altercation between Prussia and Hungary while petting Flower-Egg to keep her from panting. "Take it easy, girl." He looks up to where Hungary sits with her quiet examination of Germany. At least she was a familiar face that didn't want to kill him.

England places Flower-Egg on the ground before standing to his feet and brushing himself off. He slowly makes his way next to the woman before speaking. "Thank you very much, Hungary, for stopping Prussia… I cannot fathom what would have happened without you."

The woman looks up to England and smiles weakly. "Why, you are very welcome, but I'm afraid my name isn't 'Hungary'."

England blinks in confusion before stammering, "T-Then who could you possibly be?" His face flushes at the rudeness of his question, but in all fairness he hadn't expected Hungary to say she wasn't Hungary!

The woman stands before England and lightly bows her head. "My name is Elizaveta and this is my home." She holds her hands out and smiles warmly. "I made this field what it is today and care for it and all of the people of these lands when they reach out to me. They have given me the title: 'The Good Witch'."

England is dumbfounded. He opens his mouth to respond, but finds he has nothing to say. How hard did that wall hit him? He rubs the back of his head, expecting a bump to be there, but finds none.

Elizaveta giggles behind a hand. "I always get this reaction from newcomers. I assure you, I do not practice the magic Gilbert displayed earlier. Why don't you tell me your name, dear?"

England chokes for a second and scrambles for anything but his real identity. Better to be safe than sorry since his own fellow countries appear to be completely mental… "I-er, my name is…Arthur." He lets out a breath. Arthur is a respectable name.

"Very nice to meet you, Arthur." Elizaveta curtsies politely. "I do wish it was under better circumstances."

"As do I, Elizaveta, but it cannot be helped… Tell me, that man before, you said his name was Gilbert?"

"Yes." Elizaveta's eyes are dim as she looks to the ground. "We used to be close, but we didn't agree on many things. It was largely due to how he utilized his magic." Her eyes flicked to England's burnt suit sleeve. She lifts a hand and brushes the charred material as if brushing off dust, only her touch regenerates his sleeve back to normal.

"That's amazing!" England fingers the material in wonder and a smidge of envy. "How do you do it so easily?"

"Ludwig and I learnt and practiced together." Elizaveta turns to the man England knew as Germany. "He has always been the sweeter brother…"

"So…Ger-er, Ludwig… He's dead?" England can barely hear himself speak the words.

Elizaveta hesitates then nods sadly. "Gilbert wasn't…wrong. I feel no heartbeat and his skin is so cold, but…I can…" Her gaze is far off for a moment and then snaps back quickly. "Oh, listen to me. I've kept you far too long!" She shakes the raw emotions from her face and tries a fake smile. "You must be a busy man. I assume you will be heading to the capital dressed as such." She then gives his suit an appreciative look over.

England tries to explain himself and his situation, but is interrupted by Flower-Egg yapping and tugging on the end of Elizaveta's dress. "F-Flower-Egg, stop that right now!"

Elizaveta bends down and pets between the puppy's ears. "Flower-Egg? What a strange name." She laughs and continues petting the puppy.

England turns red. "She's not mine…" He coughs into his hand and continues on with their conversation. "And I'm not heading to the 'capital'. I'm…a bit lost, truthfully."

"Oh no…" Elizaveta stands and gives England all of her attention. "Where are you from? Perhaps I can help you."

"I was in America last…Manhattan, New York, precisely."

The bewildered, owlish look Elizaveta responds with makes him feel foolish. "Oh dear…"

"You haven't the slightest idea where it is, do you?"

"I have never even heard of it…"

This couldn't be happening. England holds his forehead and tries to keep from stomping and screaming at this poor Hungary look alike; she was much too nice and shares a love for magic… A thought crosses his mind.

"Is there a chance you can send me back home? Without even knowing where it is?"

"Arthur, my magic is not nearly strong enough, and even if I could, it would be too dangerous! So many things can go wrong with a transportation spell…"

"Damn it!" This situation is getting more and more maddening, but England is grateful for Elizaveta's honesty. Transportation isn't something to be freely tampered with.

"I'm so sorry. I do wish I could help you." Elizaveta concentrates heavily on the ground for a moment. "Ah, but you can still go to the capital!"

"What's in the capital?" England hates to get his hopes raised again, but the woman's eagerness rubs off on him.

"The all powerful wizard lives there! When I cannot provide the right service, I send the people around here his way. He is supposed to work wonders. I am certain he can send you home." She smiles so brightly, but something in the far corners of England's mind raises doubt. Something about what she is saying…it sounds uncomfortably familiar. He just cannot put his finger on it.

"Even if you decide against going, I'm sure you will encounter Gilbert again." Elizaveta turns to Ludwig's body, muttering an apology as she unclasps his cloak and hands it over to England. "Here, Ludwig placed a protective charm on his cloak."

England gives the garment a dubious look over. If only Elizaveta knew the morbid irony of this…

"But you must be careful; it only protects the wearer from magic."

Well, that explains it. "Thank you very much, Elizaveta. You have been a great help." England pulls the large cloak over his shoulders and clasps it. It's much too big for a person of his stature, but he wouldn't complain if it keeps him safe.

Flower-Egg finds entertainment in the fabric bundled around England's feet from being so long and rolls her little body against it, biting here and there. England chuckles and pulls the cloak enough to roll her over, exciting her playfulness further. "Right then, so where is the capital?"

Elizaveta points to the road England had spotted in the distance before the dispute with Gilbert. "It's within the City of Petalite. You only need to follow the yellow brick road."

England can feel his very being crumble as the familiar tune hums in his head: We're off to see the Wizard. The wonderful Wizard of Oz.

Bollocks…

Chapter Two End

Ta-da!

Sadly, I have received no feedback on this story so far. If you do have an interest in this story, please let me know! This is fun to write, but motivation dies when there doesn't seem to be anyone else enjoying it.