"Draw a circle, that's the earth." HINT.

Warning: Angst, dangerous situation, weapons, character death, sad stuffs.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Circle

Ludwig ignored the cold. It was just water, that was what he was telling himself. Just water and rocks and not enough to best him. He pulled Feliciano along, who was floating behind him, unable to move for the fright and the cold.

When the bullets began raining down on them, they all yelled and Feliciano began to sob in earnest. "Luddy," he cried. "W-we're going to be hit! They'll shoot us, ve!"

"Just hold onto me, Feli," Ludwig told him, just like he had been telling Feliciano since he had started crying. Because he couldn't tell him everything was going to be all right and he was safe… he could not guarantee that.

Behind them, Francis was struggling against the current, his efforts made harder by Lovino's clinging. "Kick your legs!" Francis yelled at him in frustration. "Help yourself a little!"

"I am, dammit, I am!" Lovino yelled back, but in all honesty he was trying his best just to hang on.

Matthew puffed as he helped Sadiq through the water. The cold was making all his extremities ache and he was beginning to become short of breath, but he pulled Sadiq along as best he could nonetheless. He knew Sadiq's leg was sore as the Turk hadn't been using it to kick across for a while. Despite being short a limb to help him swim, he kept pushing Matthew off of him.

"Stop pulling me!" he shouted over the water. "You need to focus on keeping yourself afloat!"

But Matthew grabbed him anyway, not saying anything, just dragging him through the water like he was some helpless infant. The Canadian's jaw was set, his teeth were chattering, his muscles tense, but he would not lose Sadiq.

Then bullets began hitting the water near them and sailing over their heads, past their shoulders. Everyone began to pick up their pace, shouting and dodging. The group all but scattered. Suddenly Lovino could feel his legs again and began to move them, his grip on Francis increasing significantly. Ludwig pulled Feliciano closer to him, in front of him, pushing him to the far shore which was just ten yards away with all the strength he could spare. Matthew could feel ground rising up to meet his feet, and he lodged himself in the pebbles at the river bottom, pulling Sadiq closer so that he could get his footing as well.

Matthew was oblivious to the shells tearing through the air and water around him, only focusing on Sadiq. But it wasn't until Sadiq lurched forward and grimaced that Matthew noticed something was wrong.

At first he was about to ask if Sadiq had hit a rock, but when he saw red blooming on his shoulder, he screamed.

He was so shocked he couldn't say anything, not even Sadiq's name. He threw his arms forward in a frantic attempt to pull Sadiq in. The man began to move, his body jarring when his feet hit solid ground. His blood sluiced off of him, a splash of color being carried down the river.

Then altogether the gunshots seemed to increase, and bullets riddled the water so much it looked as if it were boiling.

Matthew found his voice again when Sadiq jerked, his feet slipping on the pebbles. "No!"

Blood came off of him more so than before. He'd been hit in the back.

The shock of the bullets hitting him had frozen Sadiq's limbs, and the adrenaline rushing through his system prevented him from feeling anything… but then a few seconds later he could move his arms, though his legs were useless. More than useless—he couldn't move them at all.

And then Sadiq knew: he was paralyzed from the waist down.

He looked at Matthew, who was pale and teary. "Let go," he urged, knowing he was now only deadweight.

Matthew just stared at him in shock for a moment, hands still gripping him tightly.

"Let go."

"I can't!" Matthew said, his voice tremulous. "I won't!"

Before Sadiq could respond, another wave swept over him and his feet couldn't hold him to the ground. They were swept out from under him, and his hands slipped a little out of Matthew's grip.

"Sadiq!" Matthew cried. He looked around. They were alone. Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino, and Francis were already on the other side and blocked by the raining hail of bullets. The rest of the group was too far away across the river yet to be of any help. He looked back at Sadiq, his heart hammering in his chest.

He could see another wave coming, and he knew this was it. There was no way he could possibly pull him closer without risking him slipping from his grasp. And even though he knew Sadiq would be gone, he couldn't find any words. He just stared and held him for as long as he could.

And then the wave was there, taking Sadiq from him. Matthew surged forward, not caring if he was swept away as well, trying to grab Sadiq as he slipped from him. He only managed to grab hold of some bit of clothing and tore it off. He gasped and choked as he was tumbled through the water, finally finding his footing again, but when he finally got his bearings straight he only confirmed that Sadiq was nowhere to be found.

He looked down, his fingers still wrapped tightly around the remainder of who used to be his lover. His black bandana mask. Sadiq, he thought. And despite the cold, burning tears trailed down his face.

Alfred watched with horror, unable to do anything, as Sadiq was washed away by the river. He was too far away to help, and he would have to drop Arthur in order to do so. Across the water, he saw lithe shadows flit through the trees, following what must be Sadiq's body downriver.

Wolves, he mused. They got what they wanted.

He felt something splashing beside him, and looked to his right, seeing Ivan swimming up to him, pale and soaked through.

The Russian looked at Arthur. "Is he unconscious?"

"I hope. Help me."

And so Ivan took hold of Arthur and, along with Alfred, pulled him across the river.

The bullets were obsolete now. Many of the men had stopped shooting, and there were only a couple that had weapons that had the range enough to get at them so far across the river. When they finally made it to the other side, Ivan took Arthur into his arms and carried him to the shore. On the other side the men called their dogs from the water and stopped shooting.

When Francis saw Arthur's limp body, he rushed forward. "Mon Dieu, what happened? Did he hit a rock?"

Alfred practically snatched Arthur from Ivan's arms and lowered him to the ground. He didn't answer, and he probably was oblivious to the fact that Francis was standing there, right over him, anxious and desperate for answers, so Ivan had to reply for him. "He went under a few times, and he swallowed some water."

Francis stared horrifically down at Arthur as Alfred hunched on his knees over him. "Is he breathing?"

No one said anything.

"Answer me, is he breathing?" Francis's voice was shrill.

But Alfred was too preoccupied to answer. He hovered over Arthur, trying his best to remember his CPR lessons. He was soaked to the skin in weather that was freezing, but he recalled what to do and then he didn't feel anything.

He tipped Arthur's chin and sealed his lips with his, giving him two breaths. The first one did not make the man's chest rise, and Alfred's heart thudded against his ribs. On the second breath, though, Arthur's chest rose and he calmed down a bit. Then he pulled back, placed his hands one on top of the other on Arthur's chest, fingers locked, and began to press.

"Please, please, please," Alfred chanted, his throat already constricting with grief. "Artie, please."

More presses, and then he gave Arthur more air. The ribcage rose, but otherwise Arthur did not move. Above him Francis was crying, helpless.

Alfred pulled back, his arms trembling as he pressed thirty more times on his chest, trying to keep his strength in check. Oh God, if he broke Arthur's breastbone…

He leaned in again, barely able to give Arthur breaths for holding back his sobs. When it was clear that Alfred couldn't keep himself composed much less carry out the motions, Ivan stepped in and pushed him aside. "Go," he said, and Alfred moved out of the way, immediately breaking into tears and hiding his face in the crook of his arm.

Ivan gave Arthur breath and went to work on him. He was strong with his presses, but gentle enough not to cause Arthur anymore damage. He studied the pale, wet face. Arthur's lips were verging on blue and he was as cold as a fish, but he hoped that was just from the icy water.

"Artie," Alfred cried. "Artie, oh God." Francis stood beside him, too shocked and terrified to do anything but suppress a rising panic attack.

"Come on," Ivan muttered under his breath as he pressed Arthur's chest. "Breathe, dammit, come on."

Arthur emerged, coughing from the water, and saw nothing around him but waves.

He seemed to be in the middle of an ocean, rocking to and fro on the current. The sun, a ripe red, was setting in the west, kissing the horizon. He was content to just float there and watch it disappear below the water and wait for the stars to come out, but a particularly large wave jostled him and he turned himself around.

It was a longship, its whole structure shimmering as if wrought in gold. The sail was a fashioned out of heavy cloth-of-gold, miraculously bulging with wind. The forty oars, twenty on each side, were pure gold as well, and Arthur took the time to wonder how in the world the great vessel kept afloat.

But his thoughts were forgotten when he saw a figure standing erect at the prow. As it neared him, he made out a tall woman, wreathed in a golden silk stola, a maned helm to the like of a gladiator resting upon her head. Her cloak was blood-red, ruffling beautifully in the seabreeze. One hand held a golden trident while the other held a shield depicting the flag of the union. At her side a lion stood, his mane proud and regal and flowing. She was gazing into the horizon, and the oars seemed to be moving of their own accord, as if there were forty ghostly oarmen pulling them. Arthur knew her even before she looked at him.

"My Arthur." Her voice was as smooth as the silk she was wearing, yet had the underlying strength of iron. "You have come so far. I am proud of you."

"Mother," Arthur said in awe and swam to the ship. Yes, he swam. He didn't know how, but he didn't care to linger on it. Britannia was before him in all her might and beauty and he had a sudden urge to stand beside her.

"Mother," he said again, feeling like a small boy again and finally reached the prow, extending his arms so that she could grab him and pull him aboard.

"Yes, sweetling, come here." She moved her shield to her trident hand and reached down for him. "It is time to go home, love. It is time to see your brothers."

Arthur had forgotten what going home and seeing his brothers meant for him; all he wanted to do was go. He was amazed he could go. "All of them? Really?"

"Yes, sweet, they are all waiting for you," Britannia told him, smiling. Her teeth were like little pearls set perfectly in place. "My darling, I've missed you so."

Arthur's eyes were stinging with tears. "Me too, Mother."

Their fingertips brushed, and then Britannia's smile disappeared in a flash to be replaced with a look of shock. Beside her, her lion rumbled. When she pulled her hand back, Arthur gave a wail of despair.

"My love, you will have to wait to see your brothers," Britannia said, disappointment in her voice.

Arthur felt like crying. What had he done to deserve being abandoned? He had been abandoned by everyone and he was sick of it. He had no liking to be left alone among the swells again. "But why?"

Then Britannia's smile returned, though it was sadder this time. "Arthur, you know I am proud of you. Keep making me proud, love. Promise me."

Arthur let out a sob. "I-I promise, Mother." Then he remembered where he was: in the middle of the ocean with no idea where he was at or where he had come from. "Please," he begged. "Don't leave me. I've done everything I can."

"I know you have, darling," Britannia replied. "But remember what I said about always being strong. Nothing is accomplished with tears, sweet."

Arthur stopped crying, though it was incredibly hard. "Yes, Mother."

Then the invisible oarmen picked up and began to row the ship away.

"Be strong, my love. There are so many challenges you have yet to face," Britannia called to him as she rowed away. "Remember there is no edge of the world—it is round. You know that better than anyone. When you fall, you can only get back up again. There is no end to it."

Arthur watched, barely keeping his emotions in check as the sun swallowed Britannia and her golden longship up and then itself disappeared. And Arthur was left in the middle of the sea in the dark, alone, scared, and suddenly finding himself unable to swim again.

The storm rolled in faster than the blink of an eye: roaring clouds that brought with them peals of thunder and flashes of lightning so strong it nearly made him deaf and blind. He was pounded with sheets of rain and hail, and a great, yawning whirlpool opened up beneath him, dragging him down, down, down. He clawed for the surface, but the water closed above him, blocking out the sky and pulling him away from Britannia, and Lennox, and Ian, and Bryce, and everything that could have been called Heaven.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Britannia returns! I like using her, I dunno. Just makes everything more badass. But she kinda proved the whole fic title false. But then I did writer her saying it... oh well, anyway-

England and all his dreams have turned not-so-freaky, eh? But, wait a second, why'd he go to Heaven if he should be going to Hell? Hmm... explanation reserved for later, but until then just ponder that. It's funny, because I can tell with little changes in my writing style what I was absorbed in at the time I wrote each chapter. This one was obviously written after A Storm of Swords reading stint, at least regarding Britannia and all. After reading all of that fantasy stuff I gotta at least give myself a day or so to come down from that or I'll be writing unintentionally in medieval tongue. Which is not good for this fic. Lesson learned... by composing a Hetalia-based Game of Thrones fic. It's still in its infant stages, but I've got the houses and most of the history down. Don't think I'll be posting it for a while, but just a heads up.

And for all those who watch Game of Thrones without reading the books first, READ THE GODDAMN BOOKS. Thank you. :D

Now back to your regularly scheduled programming.