Every two weeks, on Saturday, Francis visits England for mid afternoon tea. They've been doing this for years. It was a tradition of sorts. They'd have tea, spill gossip, complain about other nations, and bitch about politicians.

Francis was right on time, the doorbell ringing at exactly 2:45.

"Come in!" Arthur called out from the coffee table "the door is unlocked."

Francis opened the door and hung his coat. A dark cloud of gloom and worry hung over him, weighing his brow and shoulders down. England looked up from his tea set and sighed. "Did you want to leave that gloom with your coat, love?"

The French man rolled his eyes, meeting England in the living room and plopping his exhausted body into the couch. "You could at least try to be sympathetic Arthur. This death has hit practically everyone in Europe really, really hard."

England waved his hand in indifference. He quite frankly didn't care that Gilbert had died. "It's death. It happens all the time. Give everyone a month and they'll all be fine."

Francis pinched the bridge of his brow in tired frustration. "Look Arthur… I know you don't care for the Beilschmidt brothers. Your obvious absence at the funeral made that clear. But Gilbert was my best friend. Could you at least pretend that you care? Even if it's just for me. It's been really rough for everyone and all you've managed to do is shut your door and isolate yourself."

England frowned at the criticism as he stood up with the now empty tea tray. It wasn't true he hadn't done anything. Arguably, he had done the most out of everyone involved in Ludwig's mourning. "I'll have you know," Arthur retorted as he went to the kitchen, "I have contributed my fair share to this whole ordeal. The Beilschmidt brothers and I are not friends. Never were. So I really don't feel like any of this is my business anyway."

A low groan buzzed out of France. "I get that. I really do Arthur. But in a time of solidarity, you haven't shown up. You haven't cooked, you haven't helped clean up, you haven't brought flowers or blankets. You haven't visited your other friends. What have you done? What have you done while everyone else has been coming together to try to make this just a little more bearable?"

"I did not invite you over to criticize me, Francis!" England quickly bit back, the tea tray slamming on the counter.

"And I didn't come over for you to tell me to grow the fuck up because one of my friends fucking died!" Francis shouted, standing up from the couch. "When you lost Alfred, I was right fucking there. And yet you can't do the goddamn same thing for me!"

"Don't you dare bring Alfred into this!" England shouted "You don't understand what it's like to lose someone!"

Francis was facing off with England now, hurt bubbling from his eyes as he bit back tears. "No Arthur," his voice cracked, "It's you who doesn't fucking understand."

The two stared each other down, England refused to back down from this, but he did feel the sting of France's words. He had overstepped. England recognized that. But on the same note, Francis could not possibly start to understand what England had done. He has paid his respects.

"So that's just it then?" Francis mumbled at England, eyes pooling with tears. "No apology? God…fuck you arthur." Francis turned to leave. It was clear that his presence was not wanted here.

Ah fuck. England realized that he owed France an apology. He didn't want him to leave. "Wait!...Look…..I'm sorry."

Francis sucked a deep breath in and bit back his tears. He refused to look at Arthur. "Sorry won't bring him back Arthur. You, of all people, should know that."

Ouch. That hurt. A lot. England felt the guilt stirring up in his stomach. He was soft to move from the kitchen and approach Francis, gently resting his hand on the taller man's shoulder. He thought Francis would shrug it off. But instead he froze.

"Francis… please stay. You are hurting. I'm sorry I didn't see that sooner"

"You've never been one to be good at listening Arthur." Francis bit back, his voice barely audible. "Look, maybe it's just best that I go."

"Francis please. Look, I'm sorry... It's been a while since this has happened. I forgot myself. Please, come sit. We can talk about how you're feeling... I know there's a lot of grief surrounding you right now."

Francis took another shaky breath in, dropping his shoulders when he exhaled, brushing off the hand on his shoulder. England was right, it had been a while. Perhaps Francis was being too harsh on the Brit.

"Fine. I will stay. One ONE condition." Francis turned around and put his finger up for emphasis. "You will not say anything of ill nature towards the Beilschmidt brothers while I'm here."

England nodded. "You have my word."

"Thank you."

The two of them silently took seats across from each other, England pouring a cup of tea for himself and Francis.

"So…do you want to talk about it?" England ventured, handing Francis his cup.

Francis sank into the couch, holding onto the cup like it held some magic remedy that would fix the loss of his friend.

"Oh Arthur, where do I even start? Everyone's become an alcoholic or are drowning themselves in bread."

England had to try hard to not snort.

"I'm being serious." Francis side eyed him before taking a small sip. "Like fuck, I'm doing it too. It's been 2 and a half weeks since the funeral. The first week I spent almost every other night in someone's house just…comforting them and god its like….everywhere I go, the grief just follows. I'm home alone and it just consumes me, I'm with Spain and it hangs like a storm, I'm with the Vargas brothers and it's like wading through rapids. I can't visit America but I've been checking up on him. He and his brother are having a hard time. Denmark won't talk to anyone. He'll barely answer text messages but that's about it. Austria and Hungary have made it VERY clear they want to be left alone. But I ran into Austria the other day at the grave. He wouldn't say a thing to me. But we just stood silently together and I could feel the heaps of grief just oozing out of him. I know he feels like this is his fault. That's why he won't talk to anyone. And god, Arthur, it's the worst with Ludwig."

"Well, I would imagine so. It was his brother after all." Arthur took a small sip of his earl grey.

"No Arthur, I don't think you understand. It's so overwhelming that I can't even visit anymore. It's too much."

Arthurs brows knit together, cup suspended in air. "Explain."

Francis cleared his throat. "Where do I even start? I'm so worried about him, Arthur. He keeps acting like he's fine, but he's not responding to texts, not responding to calls. He's not sleeping right, not eating right. I've visited him three times at his house. The first time I cooked dinner for him because I suspected he needed actual human company. It went well but almost immediately when I walked it, the grief just punched me in the stomach. The air was so heavy. And it was cold too. Ludwig's thermostat broke, so it's been like a constant 4 celsius. But he can't even feel it. And that worries me."

Arthur was not liking what Francis was saying, and his face was starting to contort into a frown. "What about the other two times?"

"Well" Francis breathed, setting his cup down, "I visited him 2 days later. I was just checking up on him. I heard from Feli that something attacked Ludwig's dogs. Italy is now taking care of them, by the way, and he told me that one of Ludwigs dog's was actually killed in the attack. And I mean, Arthur, I can't even imagine. First your brother, then one of your dogs? It's so hard. And it was back to back."

"One of his dogs died?"

Francis nodded.

"How? I get that it was attacked but did you find out what attacked it?"

Francis shook his head. "Not even Feli knows. He just said that Ludwig told him something attacked the dogs and he didn't know what, so Germany thought it was safer if his dogs just stayed with the Vargas brothers. And god, it's a good thing too because shortly after, other people's pets started going missing."

"Really?" England was leaning forward. This was not good news.

Francis nodded. "Yeah. There must be a wild animal in the neighborhood or some sick creep because pets have gone missing left and right. It actually made the German news. That's how bad it is."

Arthur waved his hand. "Go back. Before this. You said you visited him shortly after the attack. How was he doing."

Francis wiped his face while he tried to remember. "Terrible. He was doing terribly."

"What was going on?"

"Well…He was pretending to be fine. And it's like, I tell him every time I'm there he's a terrible liar and then he gets all tense. But anyway, he had not slept at all. You could tell. And his house was just….so so heavy. And it…it smelt a little weird. The thermostat was not fixed, but i didn't think it too much about it because it had only been two days-"

"Wait, you said it smelt weird?"

Francis nodded again. "Yeah. I've noticed that Ludwig has been burning candles after his brother passed away. They're pretty strong cinnamon ones but I think he burned a bad one because there was this like….weird burnt smell…like burnt out wires… It was faint but it was there and it was off putting."

Fuck. "Did it smell like sulfur?"

Francis paused, contemplating it, before giving a slow nod. "Yeah..actually. That's exactly what it smelt like….That- that was a really good guess." Francis furrowed his brows at Arthur. "How did you know that?"

Uh "I've had the problem before. A bad candle."

"Huh…. is this a common problem with candles?"

England shrugged. "I have no idea."

Francis sighed. "Anyway, I didn't really stay long because the smell with the heaviness and the cold was just…hard to stick around. I tried convincing him to go out to dinner. Told him I'd pay, but he didn't want to leave the house. But I told him he's always welcome over if the cold gets too bothersome or just needs company."

England nodded. "That is indeed worrisome." Was it worrisome, yes, but not for the same reasons it was worrisome for Francis. There were a lot of warning signs that something was definitely not right in Ludwigs household. England could feel the pit in his stomach from it.

"You said you visited a third time?"

"Well…yeah. I guess. It wasn't really much of a visit though."

"When?"

"Two days ago."

"Was he doing better? Ludwig?"

Francis shook his head before pinching the bridge of his nose. "God arthur. I…." He sighed "I can't even properly remember it. I just. I came over and there was this…high frequency buzzing just ringing in my ear the moment I got inside. I thought it'd go away after a few seconds but it never did. The smell…the sulfur smell was still there too. And it was cold and the house felt…damp an- God Arthur. It's giving me a headache just thinking about it. I only lasted 5 minutes before I felt like I was going to pass out or something."

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Shit. Fucking shit.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. The son of a bitch had lied to him! And he fucking bought it too! Cold house. Sulfur smell. Dampness. High frequencies. These were all symptoms of heavy black magic usage. And if Francis felt like he was going to pass out when he walked in? And that was two days ago? SHIT.

"Hey Arthur?" France leaned forward, worried. "Are you okay?"

"Sudden migraine" He lied. Well, it was a half lie.

"Ah" Francis leaned back into the couch. "Should I grab your pills then?"

England waved his hand. "No, it's fine. I think i'll just lay down" Arthur's hands dropped from his face and he took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like. I'll be in my room. Just… knock before entering."

Francis nodded. "I'll stay for a bit then, but if your migraine doesn't clear in the hour, then i think i'll go home, and we can reschedule."

Arthur opened his eyes and waved his hand as he got up. "Yeah that's fine. You know where everything is."

England headed to his room, a furious storm of cuss words brewing in his head.

Fucking shit! He closed the door to his room, ears almost steaming with anger. His feet heavily paced the room. What the fuck was he going to do! He wanted the damn book so he could burn it. That thing was gone. He burned it to a crisp! To ashes! Maybe it was foolish of him to do such a thing so prematurely? But on the other hand it was a fucking NECROMANCY BOOK! There was a goddamn reason why that fucker had been scattered to the winds! And now? Well shit, now it was gone because he burned the thing back to hell! He grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at the wall in anger.

Arthur didn't even know what the fuck Ludwig had done? Did he summon a fucking demon? Did he actually manage to grab his brother's soul? Did he posses some fucking object? Was there a ghost in the house? He didn't know because he couldn't fucking read the book that ludwig had, and the fucker didn't leave a translation. It obviously was feeding. On what? Well god only knows. England didn't think it was a coincidence that one of Ludigs dogs got killed, and then other neighborhood pets started to go missing. Was Ludwig feeding people's dogs and cats to it? Is that what's going on? And how the hell did he not feel this? Did the salt line in Ludwig's house really end up creating such a strong barrier that it blocked the forces of dark magic out?

Fuck! God! What…what should he do? England grabbed his hair in frustration and pulled at it. He didn't want to call on any help because he was the dumbass who initiated this spell and he'd never hear the fucking end of it. But he couldn't afford to drag other countries into this. Bless Francis for being such a good friend, but what Ludwig was doing had become too dangerous. If Francis felt like he was going to pass out, the dark magic was too strong.

Arthur took a deep breath to try to calm himself down. This needed to be taken care of. And it needed to be taken care of now. Every hour Arthur waited meant another hour for this thing to grow stronger. There was no time to waste and he needed a level head to fix this.

"Francis" Arthur called out, doing his best to hide his anger, "It might just be best for you to leave. I have a feeling this migraine will last at least a few hours."

"Ah, well, I hope you feel better then Arthur. We can just text for another time." He called out "Please take care of yourself and drink some water. I'll let you know when I'm home"

Arthur heard Francis collect his things in the other room and listened for the front door to close. Once he heard the slam, he scrambled out of his room to start collecting the items he'd need to combat the fucking hell hole that Ludwig had created. There was no time to waste. He needed to catch a plane NOW.

/AN: hey everyone, sorry this chapter took forever and was super short. I've been very swamped with school and social life and some other fun things. This project has been put on hold for a hot moment so i can focus on passing classes. I can't guarantee any updates within the next month, but you can expect some more content in December. Thanks for sticking around. i'm very excited for the next chapter./