Hazy, purple mist that smelt strongly of pachouli and lavender made Alfred's head throb, as the demon groggily awoke in an unfamiliar room. Realizing how blurry his surroundings were and that his glasses were gone, Alfred squinted into the darkness. A demon could see perfectly in darkness and would be able to magnify his vision to spy on its prey from the skies. But without his glasses, Alfred was as blind as a bat.
Tension at his wrists and ankles told Alfred he was bound to a chair, and thanked Lucifer that he wasn't in iron chains. Surprised by his lack of strength, the demon guessed something had happened when that peculiar voice started conversing with him. As he tried in vain to slip out of his bindings, an eery creak filled the room, followed by footsteps and a heavy thud. Someone had just walked in and was now pacing across to the other end of the room.
At the sound of a stick tapping the wall, the room burst into light. Candles were strewn all over the floor, on benches, on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. The mist turned out to be asphyxiating incense that billowed around the room in a bog-like fashion. Alfred turned his head around absently, trying to sense the being that had walked in. He thought he saw a shadow on the far wall, but it disappeared and instead a male figure stood in front of him. A bubbly voice gave a shrill laugh, and pulled something out of his vest pocket. Alfred could just make out a blurred pair of rectangular-framed glasses.
"Never have I ever come across a wretched demon who needed glasses to see. You must be insanely weak to have hindered vision and no defensive skills," The figure taunted, swinging the glasses around his index finger, "So that's why you're just a lowly adviser, hm?"
Alfred gritted his teeth against the pain in his head, and the figure only chuckled, "My happy gas seemed to have done the trick, and I've stripped you of your little disguise," A pale hand gripped Alfred's chin and forced his face close. He could feel a hot breath across his cheeks, and smelt... cupcake mixture, "Hmm, to be honest with you, poppet... I'm quite fond of your treacherous looks. Hair as black as death, yet pools of blue diamond for eyes. Oh, don't get me started on your horrid wings, and I'm sure your horns were just as revolting."
Finally finding his voice, Alfred wheezed out a few words, "Who... Who on Earth are you?"
Another tap, and a light above the figure brightened, and a man much younger than Alfred anticipated appeared. Clothed in purple velvet robes, with a head of messy-looking strawberry-blond hair. Even with his eyesight hindered, Alfred strained his eyes to focus enough to recognize a pair of blue eyes tinged with pink. Underneath the heavy robes, Alfred spotted a horrible pink vest over a white shirt.
"Oh, my dear. You aren't on the Earth you were told about. This is the mirror image of that world. The Other Color universe. Though some just refer to it as the 2P universe," The man chuckled again, and his grip tightened on Alfred, "But I do not reveal such personal information to the likes of you. Hmm, though maybe... you can persuade me over some tea and cupcakes."
With a snap of his wrist, a small table topped with an extravagant afternoon tea arrangement and a vacant chair appeared. The man seated himself and with another flick, reeled Alfred's chair closer. A tower of vivid cupcakes and a pot of minty-smelling tea were set before him. The other man's eyes glittered with excitement and malice, clapping his hands and giggling like a loon.
"Ooh, what should you choose to eat first? The one's with pink frosting will fill your tongue with live fire ants, the red velvet cupcakes will make you vomit non-stop, a tad messy for today, I just mopped the floors before your arrival- Oh, and the ones with the little flowers on it will kill you instantly, why did I even make those? Hardly any fun," The man grimaced as he picked up all the cupcake topped with the flowers and tossed them onto the floor, "Anyway, I won't spoil the rest. Just pick out one and I'll spoon-feed you like a baby~!"
Glowering, Alfred spat violet ichor onto the crisp white table-cloth. But the man didn't flinch or yell, he simply looked thoughtfully at the stain, sighed and brought out his wand, "Do I really have to make this hard? But I guess all naughty boys need a punishment." The man stated boredly.
Alfred didn't see the wand move, but suddenly his body fell into violent convulsions of pain. Alfred let out a blood-curdling scream, he knew what was happening. Iron burns, the worst burns a demon could recieve. Tears like acid rolled down his cheeks, intensifying the pain even more. The man sat there, doubled-over and laughing.
"Hahahahh... Okay, I think you've entertained me enough to get my name," The man wiped his eyes, and his shrill laughter settled down to a mere chuckle, "I'm Oliver Kirkland, the opposite of Britain. And I am ever so pleased to meet you..."
"So... one more time from the top, please?" Arthur asked, rubbing his temple to rid an on-coming headache. America had roughly awoken the prince and presented him with four other members of the Allied Forces.
"Okey-dokey! So the tall, scary-looking one with the water pipe is Russia; the loud Asian that no-one can tell the gender to is China; the perverted alcoholic who smells of week-old cheese and stereotypes is France-" America stopped for a moment, his brows creased in thought "I'm sure there was someone else here with us... Uh, I think it started with a 'C'... Hmm, Canadia?"
"It's Canada, and I'm right here..." Said a disembodied voice, but none of the other countries or America seemed to notice.
The trio of newcomers smiled, and kept relatively friendly demeanors. Though France tried to use cheap pick-up lines on the prince, and China wouldn't stop arguing with Russia, who was gripping his pipe menacingly. Arthur saw a glimpse of a blond-haired country holding a polar-bear cub, but dismissed the thought and made a mental note to have his eyesight checked. All of these countries reminded him of the other incarnations back in Hell, and seemed to help calm the prince's nerves.
"Is it true, mon amie? You really cannot remember us?" France asked in a concerned tone, swirling around what wine was left in the bottom of his glass. Russia and China stopped fighting and looked at the prince with bated breath. The eagerness to know was making Arthur uncomfortable, but still he shook his head.
"...No, not a thing. Would you chaps mind telling me what happened?" Arthur asked, but didn't get answers. The countries just went quiet and looked away. America's face turned red and he picked up a book to hide his tears, not caring that it was upside-down. After a long silence only broken by sniffles coming from behind the book, China stepped in to speak.
"W-Well, I think we should let Britain sleep. He need's to recover, aru." And with that, China walked America to the door and the other countries followed in suit. The strange pain in Arthur's chest came back as America's sobs grew louder outside his room. Trying to block out the noise, Arthur distracted himself with the task of putting his uniform on.
He started with the pants and then slipped on his boots. He was about to pull on a white singlet when America emerged back into the room, obviously to return the book. Arthur gasped and was ready to yell at the country for not knocking first, but couldn't bring himself to do it when he saw America's face. His eyes were swollen and blood-shot, straggly bits of blond hair were sticking up out of place and his lip still looked like it was quivering. Yet when America made eye contact with Arthur, he cracked another goofy smile and walked over. Arthur tried to step back, but bumped into the chest of drawers behind him.
"I'm sorry for the break-down earlier, dude. It's just a hard thing for us all to think of... And it's probably best if you don't know for a while, okay?" America looked down at Arthur's stomach, and the prince went to cover himself, but thought better of it. Humans and countries couldn't see incantations and marks that riddled his abdomen, torso and back.
Instead, Arthur looked around the room, feeling the blood rush to his face until America picked up the white singlet off the floor and smirked, "Having trouble dressing? You're always like this when you're sick. But it's fine, I'll help you." And rather than push him away this time, Arthur played along. He thought as if he should get more friendly with him, after all, any of the country's could be his target. Wrath said that he'd send a fire message on the next waning crescent with information on who to kill, so that means he still still has a week and a half to get to know each of the countries' weaknesses.
In no time, America had draped Arthur's white shirt over him, tied his tie and fastened his green jacket around him with a black belt. The two stood in silence, not looking at each other. Suddenly, America's stomach growled which seemed to set off a lightbulb inside the country's head, "Ah, we haven't had breakfast yet. Come on, let's go downstairs and get some grub."
That gave Arthur an idea. He grabbed America's arm and said, "May I cook breakfast?" The prince knew this way he'd be able to get all their trust. But instead of agreeing, America turned as white as a ghost and looked around sheepishly.
"Ah, n-no... Really, I'm sure France could- You see, I don't know if you can remember or not but... Your cooking sucks, dude."
Arthur gasped. Back in Hell's castle, the prince always loved watching the chefs cook. He'd march into the kitchen and order what he wanted when he was young, and he forced the chefs to teach him the process of every dish. As he grew up, he started helping out the chefs and was soon at par with the greatest cooks in the kingdom. He realized that the country he was disguised as probably was so horrible that he could burn water, but couldn't control his anger.
"I beg your pardon, my cooking is the bloody best! I'll show you, take me to the kitchen right now!" The prince bellowed, and America gave a small squeak and walked out the door with Arthur, a 'please have mercy' look on his face.
So down the stairs they went and after two left turns and a sharp right, Arthur saw the all countries seated at a table in the middle of the room. Behind them was another door, Arthur suspected it lead to the kitchen. America shakely explained what the prince wanted to do and in turn the countries gave the same scared look and begged under their breath as the prince walked through the door.
A pristine chrome kitchen unlike the rest of the old-fashion building was filled with state-of-the-art equipment. Arthur pondered over how to convert what he knew into something simple. He resorted to pancakes and set to work. A little while later, as he spooned some of the mixture into a pan, it hit the prince that he couldn't eat human food. What the hell am I going to do, he thought, I could die if I eat this stuff and I have no way of making it safe.
But that's when he remembered another thing that Wrath said: "If you find yourself hungry, and you only have human food to eat, charm the food you are given with this. It is one of the main compounds in demon food, you only need a few grains to make one standard meal safe. I shall send it with you, and you can find it no matter where you are by saying its name..."
Arthur breathed in deep and whispered, "Keras ab Lucifer..." A small vile of what looked like black sugar appeared on the table. Horn of the Devil, that's what they call it in Hell. It's the powdered horn of a sacrificial ram, dyed with demon ichor. Without this, demons wouldn't exist. Ninety-percent of all powdered horn is made by the horns of any executed demon. It was very rare to get ram horns as there are almost no more Devil worshippers on Earth.
"As long as the others don't eat anything with this in it," Arthur said to himself, charming one platefull of pancakes with the powder, "Then I won't be found out."
The door burst open and Arthur stepped out with enough pancakes for everyone. He set down one at each placemat, careful to keep the charmed one for himself. Everyone was in shock, obviously they were expecting something burnt.
"Well, don't just stare at your plates, dig in!" Said the prince, and the countries each took a bite, and most of them yelped out of joy.
There were exclamations of, "This is amazing, I knew you had it in you, dude!" and "Aiyah, you must've forgotten how to cook badly if this is what you're capable of." Russia was chewing happily next to a polar bear (again, Arthur reminded himself to not question it being there) and France was already asking for a second plate and a cook-off.
...
"Hmm, interesting..." Oliver murmured behind his crystal ball, watching the countries of the 1P Universe. The man turned to look at Alfred, who chose the chocolate cupcake, had collapsed into a deep sleep filled with nightmares. Oliver wished he could see what was so frightening, but found enough enjoyment in watching the demon toss and turn, an aghast expression frozen on his face.