"Hey, haven't we met somewhere in the past?
Hey, you're special to me, I want to talk to you
Hey, what time is it? What's today? I don't know
Hey! It would be great if we completely forgot"
"Hey, who's that?"
"Isn't it America?"
"Next to them... is that-?"
"Fratello!" Italy shouted
"Liechtenstein!" Sweden called out in panic,
"Canada!" America exclaimed
"B-bruder?"
Gilbert and Oliver stood beside each other at the top of the hill. Gilbert was obviously no longer himself... In front of them, on their knees were their prisoners, Canada, Romano, and Liechtenstein. Their siblings felt as if their hearts had stopped.
"iNSaNiTY
It's like floating on air"
Their feet left the ground and they ran. Towards their siblings. Towards hope of saving them. Oliver smiled, a dead giveaway that doing so was not the answer that would save them.
"No! Fratello!" Italy shouted continuing to run towards the hill. Germany quickly stopped him and held him back even as Italy clawed at the stronger nation's arms.
Switzerland managed to stop himself after Denmark and Australia reached out to stop him. Switzerland even took a few steps backward in disbelief.
But no one was there to stop America.
"PSYCHoPaTHY
A carefree life"
England hadn't noticed the pause taking place elsewhere on the battlefield. He was fighting boldly, switching between magic and his sword- igniting the old pirate spirit in the nation.
He was doing exceptionally well, taking down 2p after 2p. That is until he heard France scream.
"iNSaNiTY
Dark? Light?
iNSaNiTY
iNSaNiTY"
"America, no!"
"sAnIty
Can't see the dark already"
England turned his head just in time to see what France was screaming at. America.
America fell back from Oliver's spell, blood dripping down his face. At the same time Canada fell forward, blood pouring out of a wound in his gut.
England felt his throat clench and before he, or anyone else could stop him, he was running full speed to where America's body was rolling down the hill.
France was already at America's side, taking the young nation's bloodied glasses off and tossing them to the side. America's face was covered in blood. His eyes were closed, but they were obviously the source of the red liquid. He looked like a demon.
England was almost there- almost to America- when he heard a sound. A sharp cracking sound. The sound of Romano's neck snapping.
Germany couldn't hold Italy back anymore and he was running towards his brother full speed. He launched himself at Gilbert full speed, tearing and slashing at him with his nails. The two of them rolled down the hill clawing at each other.
"pUrIty
The days are longer"
England saw Oliver approach Liechtenstein. England had to do something. He ran past America and launched a fire spell at Oliver.
Oliver recoiled and grinned at his 1p. Soon the two of them were fighting tooth and nail, or rather wand and spell. Oliver swallowed his pride and matched the nation's spell casting- because whoever won this fight would be the only living thing to walk down that hill.
Oliver was much more adept at magic than England had originally thought. Oliver could easily match most of the spells England threw his way and do a decent knock-off of the more advanced ones.
England would never admit it, but Oliver was about on par with him. And with England already being injured from his fight with Lokki, Oliver had a pretty decent chance of winning.
England threw black fireball after black fireball at the 2p, each time it was easily absorbed and returned back at England. The nation switched to ice spells which he rarely practiced, so Oliver couldn't possibly know. But Oliver had apparently been training with Lokki and Dragomir because he had no problem countering England's attacks with his own.
England was running out of ideas. His wound was still bleeding and every movement tore it open a little wider. He had to end this. Now.
England paused to catch his breath. Oliver smiled at his weakened 1p. The fight would end soon, England had one more trick up his sleeve, but it was his last trick. After this spell, one of them would be dead. England just hoped it would be him.
"Obice spei tuendam committimus, ut simpliciter tale peccatum nostrum," England recited the old spell carefully, one wrong word and they'd both be dead, "Aperite portas, et hic in gehenna devorat odium mali et immundi, et circulus,"*
Suddenly the world around the two Englands vanished and the small circle of grass the two were standing on seemed to warp and plunge into the earth. But this was no earth...
England had plunged the two of them into the very pits of hell, protected only by a thin barrier. If England died, the barrier would vanish and Oliver and himself would be devoured by the hungry hounds of shadow.
So if England died, Oliver would two.
Oliver was unfamiliar with the old spell, but nontheless understood the consequences of both victory and defeat. He saw that England was about to offer him a deal where they both lived. But Oliver would have none of it. He'd offered his life for Ian's cause, and right now stopping England seemed the only way to win.
Before England could even offer a truce to Oliver, the vicious 2p jumped on him, knife in hand. England didn't react quick enough and the blade made a deep cut in England's shoulder. The barrier wavered but neither of the Englands were paying attention. They were focused on killing.
England drew his sword and slashed at Oliver's hands, causing the latter to draw back dangerously close to the barrier. Oliver dived forward and cut England's calf, soaking his socks in blood.
The pitch-black hounds outside the circle pressed their faces into the barrier to sniff and snap at the fresh blood. England was distracted enough by the dark faces that Oliver managed to cut the nation once more, this time on the arm.
England brought his sword forward in response and...
Oliver coughed and blood splattered out of the 2p!nation's mouth. Oliver fell to his knees and England stepped back as the prior reached his hands out to grasp at England's clothes. England paused for a moment to stare in awe of the fallen 2p before stepping back... and removing the barrier.
England didn't dare look, but he heard the vicious hounds snapping their jaws and hungrily devouring the flesh of the fallen 2p.
When England returned to the battlefield, he was surprised to see that almost all of the 2p nations had surrendered, fled, or been killed. He scanned the area quickly, but neither Ian nor Russia could be found. He frowned, they had obviously won, but if they didn't capture Ian he could spark a different sort of revolution. They might have to fight their own citizens if Ian sparked the wrong ideas in their minds.
But England's mind was snapped back to the present as he heard a soft mumble from the bottom of the hill.
America.
"sAnIty
But that also must sink
"sAnIty"
... what is that?"
"America?" England said, rushing down the hill to kneel beside the figure that was slumped beside France.
"England?" America asked weakly
"Here let me see," England said, prying America's bloodied eyes open. After examing thim quickly he pulled his hands away, "There's a lot of blood, but no damage."
"England," America said again,
"Let me clean your face off," England said starting to wipe the trails of blood away from America's eyes.
"England, I can't see,"
There was a quiet pause.
"Well of course you can't see! You're not wearing your glasses!" England said reaching for America's spectacles.
"No, America said, blindly reaching out- somehow catching England's arm, "I can't see- like at all."
It took a moment for it to sink in for England. He reached a hand out for America's face before deciding instead to place it on his shoulder.
"America..."
"Oliver did it," America said after a while, "Is it permanent?"
England didn't say anything. America couldn't see his face to gauge the situation. England moved his hand and the only assurance America had that he was still there was gone.
"England?" America asked in a panicked tone.
"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate,"
"What are you-?" America didn't finish his question as England had placed his thumbs over America's eye. It didn't hurt, but the sudden contact had startled him.
England pulled his thumbs back and America opened his eyes again. It took a while, but colour started to return to America's vision. Everything was blurry as hell, but if he concentrated, he could almost find England's eyebrows amongst the jumbled mess.
"Smile," England commanded,
"Wha-?"
"Just do it," England interrupted, "quickly,"
America smiled as wide as he could just before shapes begain to become more and more define- he could definitely see the outline of England's face.
"Thanks, England! You did it, I can see again!"
England smiled and stared back at America happily.
Then a blood-red tear ran down his face.
"England?!" America said, horrified, "What did you do?!"
England leaned forward and rested his head on America's chest, two more tears of blood ran down his cheeks.
"I'm so glad... that you can see again... America"
It had finally dawned on him what England had done.
"Take it back," America commanded, "Take your sight back- I don't want it!"
"What kind of big brother would I be... if I wasn't willing to do this much?"**
"iNSaNiTY
Like floating on air
PSYCHoPaTHY
A carefree life
iNSaNiTY
An illusion that can't end
CaPTiViTY
Unable to run away
iNSaNiTY
Like floating on air
PSYCHoPaTHY
A carefree life
iNSaNiTY
An illusion that can't end
CaPTiViTY
The corruption is continuing"
*England's Spell: "Barrier of hope, protect the kind-hearted as we commit our sin... Open the very gates of hell and here lay a circle of hatred to devour the evil and impure."
**Not to ruin the mood, but this is totally a Black Butler reference.