Chapter Six: Defence Against the Reaper
England stayed far ahead of the group; too ashamed to show his face to the surviving Nations. America watched the Brit with great concern, his face still pale as he remembered the crazed grin on England's face. The younger Nation then sighed and sped up a little bit so that he walked beside his former older brother; he gently tried to slip his hand into the other's, but Arthur swiped his hand away.
"America. Don't look at me…I'm a monster." England spoke sadly, his face pure white and partially blood stained after his fatal assault on France. All the deaths until France's had been caused by the imperishable battle between the Ghosts of England and Spain's history; Arthur simply could not believe that he had gone so mad, so much so, that he would kill someone.
"You're not a monster Brit. You just… you just snapped. And I know one thing, that when you snap it's not very easy to get you back. Don't worry…no one will hold a grudge against you because of what happened." America spoke softly; he had never experienced the insanity that England clearly possessed deep inside his mind, it clearly frightened him.
"You're right…I snapped. But I had no reason to…France and China were both my Allies; I guess my hatred for that Frog just pushed me over the edge when I saw what an idiot he was." England smirked darkly, "It was fun to make his face turn purple…before beating him to the floor and seeing his blood go everywhere…How EXHILIRATING!" The Brit cackled loudly; his laugh high-pitched and damaging to the ear.
"Britain, chill the fuck out!" America cried, getting in front of the Englishman and shaking him by his shoulders; England yelped slightly and came back to reality as America held the part of his arm where the Swiss male had shot him before. Arthur pushed Alfred away and placed his hand over the makeshift bandage that was tied around his arm; the white cotton no longer pristine.
America's face resembled a canvas, different emotions spread across his features like the assorted colours to form an undecipherable picture. But, brilliant shades of blue began to mark the canvas as sadness caused America's features to fall as England turned and continued to walk down the corridor without him.
"We need to stop!" A call from the back occurred causing everyone to stop and look back; Germany was kneeling beside a tired and struggling Italy. The younger Nation was kneeling on the harsh stone; panting and shivering; ever since his elder brother Romano died, Italy had become even more withdrawn from all the conversations which surrounded him, but this was the worst that anyone had seen the Italian so run down.
Germany brought the Italian onto his lap and looked up at the other Nations; "We need to find somewhere so Italy can rest. He won't make it if we ignore this."
"We can't stop." The distinct English accent shattered the already tense and worrying atmosphere. "We have to keep going or we'll be ambushed again by those bloody spectres. Just watch him; we need to get out and quickly. It's the only way that we'll really survive now."
The German went to retaliate but he then felt something tug at his uniform jacket; he looked down to see Italy gripping the fabric as tight as his weak fingers could hold. "I'll be okay Germany. Britain's right…we need to get out of here now. If I stop to rest, I'll slow you guys down and I don't want that." The Italian's amber irises, flecked with gold, bore into the German's piercing blue.
"If you're sure Italy..." Germany got up and helped Italy back onto his feet, before wrapping an arm around his shoulders; trying to keep him upright.
England turned back to continue the trek through the daunting corridor.
Many minutes passed by; time seemed to slow right down as the Nations' nerves hit their peaks, until…England stopped dead. He swiftly looked back and sure enough… they were here once again.
"Run for it! Germany, protect Italy as best as you can!" England shouted, used to this feeling of authority over the other Nations.
So, the remaining thirteen Nations raced down the corridor; being aware of the ghostly swordfight occurring right behind them; Germany and Italy ran close by one another.
"There's, like, a door there! Hurry and we could potentially, like save our lives!" Poland exclaimed; his cheeks flushed from the consistent running.
"Jeez, do these guys ever take a break?!" America yelled, looking back to see Pirate England and Spain duelling one another as they chased the Nations.
Unfortunately…not everyone reached the door.
"ITALY!" Germany cried and sprinted to the Italian who had fallen too far behind; Pirate England had raised his cutlass for a fatal blow to the other Pirate spectre which could potentially hit the young Italian; the German shoved Italy roughly out of the way before letting out an alarmed cry.
"G-Germany…NO! Ludwig!" Italy shakily got up from the floor and ran to the German's side. Ludwig was folded in slightly, lying on his side; the right side of his torso now awash with heavy blood flow. The Italian's amber irises lost their sparkle as they took in the German's gritted teeth and the laceration along his side.
"Ita-chan! Move it!" Prussia yelled, making his way to the two, his eyes flooded with tears; only to be stopped by Spain.
Italy shook his head and clung to Germany, not going to move anywhere without him. Pirate England dashed past the Italian back down the corridor into the darkness, but not too long after he returned, taunting the Spaniard ghost; who had had enough, pulled out his revolver, and shot three rounds at England, however…they did not hit their target.
Bullet wounds through the chest; the spilling of blood…it all had happened to the young Italian. Feliciano looked down to the three miniscule injuries; but due to his current state…his body could no longer tolerate any more stress or hurt and he collapsed.
Spain and Prussia ran to the fallen comrades as soon as the ghosts had dissipated once more, the Spaniard bringing the Italian onto his lap, and Prussia bringing his Bruder onto his lap.
"G-Germany…" Italy squeaked; his tanned skin now pale as he lost blood; his health continuing to deteriorate.
"J-Ja Italy?" The blond German slowly turned his head, his blue irises fixating onto the Italian beside him.
"…I'm happy…" Italy's chapped lips revealed his usual smile, though it was only slight.
"Mi amigo! How can you be happy? You're dying!" Spain cried, his eyes becoming wet with more tears.
"Because…I get to see grande fratello and Grandpa Rome again…" Italy hid his amber irises as his eyelids shut, "Romano…I want to see him." The Italian's eyes quickly opened as he felt something gently brush against his soft cheek.
"Italy…even if you don't find Romano…I'll be there to protect you. Ja?" Germany spoke, a small curve forming on his lips, as he gently ran the back of his finger over Italy's cheek.
Feliciano giggled softly and gently moved, with some help from Antonio, closer to Germany; before holding up his pinkie finger. "Promise?"
Germany nodded in response, and brought his pinkie up too; linking it with the Italian's. "I promise you this Italy." He struggled to do so, but with some aid from Prussia, Germany had put his arm around the Italian and held him close to his chest, running his broad fingers through the honey-brown locks. "Ich liebe dich Feliciano…~" The blond German whispered.
"Ve~ Ti amo Ludwig…~" Feliciano responded in the same hushed tone.
And so, with their pinkie fingers entwined, their lives disappeared and the hearts of Germany and Italy seized to beat any longer.
Prussia couldn't hold back any more… he began to weep. He'd lost four people who were extremely close to him: Canada, France, Germany, and Italy. The albino leant down and pressed his forehead to Germany's, his tears falling onto the younger German's cold cheeks.
Spain hung his head low, gritting his teeth as he tried not to cry. He agreed that Italy and Germany would at least be together. Italy would find Romano and his grandfather…that thought alone made the Spaniard believe, his lips curling into a watery smile. "Romano, please…protect Italy and Germany."
"Guten nacht, mein Bruders…Ludwig und Feliciano." Prussia spoke in his native tongue, his tears continuing to fall. The Prussian and Spaniard raised their heads; both repeating a motion they had done before: placing the blond German and the young Italian's uniform jackets over their upper bodies.
England's eyes narrowed before he turned away, his dark voice cut through the atmosphere once again. "Let's go… we need to avenge our fellow Nations…"
England kept his place at the front, the Prussian and Spaniard stayed with one another, silent as they contemplated what had occurred. So many of them had died…if they hadn't have found this castle; everyone would still be alive.
The small Japanese male was now on his own, after losing his comrades, and the person who raised him, he was quieter than ever; and he was very quiet to begin with!
The once boisterous American had now become more reserved, it kind of frightened everyone…however nothing could be done about the lives that had been lost. What England said before was right, they had to try and avenge them, by escaping the dark confines of this Hell.
Hungary and Austria walked side by side, the girl's hands clasped in front of her, as her shoulders were slumped; her head bowed.
"Elizabeta…there is no reason to be so down. Of course, losing everyone is difficult, but we need to stay strong." The Austrian cut through the quiet atmosphere like a knife; the Hungarian looked up at him with sad eyes, slightly bloodshot from the tears she had been holding back.
"I know, Mr Austria…But it just hurts knowing that so many of us have gone…There are only us eleven left…" Elizabeta raised her hands so they were crossed over her heart, her grip tightened on her dress as if she wanted to cease her heartache. "I…I just…" Her voice halted in her throat when she felt a gentle hand be placed on her shoulder. Through glossed eyes, she saw Austria looking at her with a soft, reassuring smile.
"You don't have to say anymore. It's alright." He moved his hand to take hers, intertwining their fingers, "We'll make it out of here."
A light pink blush spread across the Hungarian's cheeks, she smiled brightly back at the Austrian, her green eyes sparkling with new hope…hope that, probably, would not last.
The remaining Nations continued to venture through the treacherous hallways, the sounds of subtle scratching and a biting wind hit their bodies, causing them to momentarily freeze in place, out of fear and the harsh cold.
Switzerland kept a revolver in his hand at all times, keeping his index finger on the trigger, after Liechtenstein's death, he knew he had to protect the others…to keep her happy. That's all she would want him to do…rather than reminisce on the past.
"Mr Austria, we need to help Switzerland in one way or another. After Miss Liechtenstein's death, he's become more isolated than ever." Hungary spoke, her voice trembling with concern.
"I don't think he'd really want to talk to me. After all he hates my guts…I'm not entirely sure if he'd want to discuss such matters with me, despite our past." Austria sighed, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.
Elizabeta also sighed, but kept walking beside Roderich.
Switzerland and England soon stopped dead in their tracks, "Do you hear that?" The distinct English accent echoed in the darkness.
They looked behind them, but saw nothing.
What was going on?
"We need to move, now." England ordered, with a frightened America clinging to his back, whimpering at the sounds.
"A-Artie! W-Where do we go now?!" The American cried, trembling as he stayed close to the Briton.
"It's Arthur, you bloody wanker." England sighed in exasperation at the American.
"I-It's scary…c-can we just get out of here?" He clung to his former brother.
"We're trying. Get off me and we'll be able to get out of here faster." Arthur looked into Alfred's sapphire irises, "I promise I won't let anyone harm you Alfred."
"Pinkie promise?" The American brought his hand up, offering his little finger to England.
"Pinkie promise~" The Englishman smiled as he linked his own finger with America's.
But, the bright atmosphere, again, did not last…
"Run for it!" Switzerland cried as he held up an assault rifle, aiming for the ominous spectres, as they dashed down the hallway at the Nations yet again.
Everyone listened to the Swiss' words and began to run down the hallway.
"Does this ever stop?!" Prussia yelled, getting extremely agitated with the ghosts' presence… he thought his 'awesomeness' would scare the ghosts away… yeah, not happening.
Britain held America's wrist tight as they ran, "Everyone, keep moving! No one else's lives can be lost! We need to protect the Earth!" Truthfully, England was just ranting some useless shit to keep everyone motivated, despite some weird glares from Switzerland, Austria and Prussia, they all listened and tried to keep going.
"A musician… cannot run for this long...!" Austria panted, his cheeks flushed a light pink from the excessive exercise; I'll tell you one thing, those who survive this are gonna' have shed a huge amount of weight.
"Keep going Mr. Austria, we'll make it!" Hungary panicked, taking the Austrian's hand in her own and running quickly, holding the skirt of her dress up slightly with her other hand.
Something was going to go wrong…and sure enough it did.
Spain's ghost threw a dagger to the British spectre, his face clouded with hatred and loathing. Unfortunately, it missed its target completely and the blade was instead heading for Austria.
"AUSTRIA!" A familiar voice broke the already tense atmosphere with the cry of said Nation.
The Austrian was pushed out of the way violently by the one who had called, he would have fallen over if Switzerland hadn't been in the way…but due to the Swiss male's despise of the Austrian; he dropped him anyway. Unfortunately, someone had to pay the ultimate price…
Elizabeta panted softly…a hand on her stomach. The other Nations stared in fear, she took the blow, to protect Austria? The Hungarian fell to her knees and coughed softly, a thin trail of blood escaping her lips, running down and dripping off her chin.
Roderich gasped as he saw the Hungarian on the floor, he scrambled to his feet and dashed to her side; the usually unemotional Austrian's eyes glossed over with the overflowing tears. "Hungary…why…WHY?" His voice was disjointed and panicked as he tried to help the girl, attempting to pull the corroded blade from her stomach as gently as possible; she winced and grunted as a dull pain shot through her torso as the blade scraped the sides of the wound.
Hungary simply looked up at Austria, running the tip of her index finger under his eyes, drying his tears, "Don't cry Mr Austria, you'll not be able to see through your glasses." A soft, playful smile formed on her lips, which seemed damaged as they were chapped and stained red with blood.
But, Roderich could not hold his tears back, he had to let them fall, he would worry about his dignity later…especially from the roasting he was going to get from the Vash. He joined his hand with Elizabeta's, holding it tight, he brought up the weak and cold hand and kissed the back of it tenderly, his lips softly brushing against her knuckles.
"Austria…I want you to promise me something. Can you do that for me..?" Elizabeta's voice, one usually so full of happiness and life now tired and hoarse, echoed through the quiet atmosphere. The other Nations stood silently as they watched the Austrian and Hungarian share her final moments.
"What is it? I'll do a-anything…Elizabeta, you can't die… you simply ca-!
"Roderich. There is nothing you can do. I've done my duty…" She cut him off by placing an ice cold hand on his cheek, her voice fading as her life slowly drained.
"What duty?! What are you saying?"
"I wanted to protect you until I died… and now, this is happening. I have protected you…And I'm happy to have done so."
"Elizabeta…" Austria's voice cracked as the tears became too much, he pulled the girl close to his chest, cradling her as he wept.
"Mr Austri—no, Roderich. I have one more thing to say to you." The Austrian gazed into Hungary's eyes, the usual bright green dulling as her life dissipated, he nodded gently and listened intently, too broken to speak. "I…I love you."
Roderich's heart stopped, the acknowledgement of Elizabeta's feeling, finally tore at his heart, ripping the seams apart, waterfalls cascaded down his cheeks as he held the woman close, "I love you too…"
No response.
"Elizabeta?" Austria looked down and saw her eyes had closed, small gatherings of tears at the corners of her eyes. She had not heard him reply…or maybe…she did? The Hungarian's pale lips had formed a soft smile.
The usually stern and expressionless Austrian was now in a fit of tears, he could not hold back anymore with his beloved, dead in his arms.
Elizabeta, the nation of Hungary, had lost her life in defending her precious Roderich Edelstein, the nation of Austria. She was truly strong as she played her part as Defence against the Reaper.
Author's Note:
I know these chapters are probably getting super repetitive by now, but it's all part of the story. I guess the good part is thinking about who's going to go next!
Also, I had a question from someone about this story, stating that Nations can't die. All will be revealed shortly as to why the Nations can die in this story. I mean, there's an idea, but I have a feeling it won't be satisfactory, so I may edit it. Or I'll post two endings and we'll see which one people prefer!
Thank you all for reading! See you next week!