Partner story of Discovering Ludwig. Based upon a roleplay between SpeakingThroughWrittenWords and Dancing Feather. Warning: Utilizes both country and Human names.


When Blood Is Water

"France said he had a plan, but he would not tell us," he told her.

She did not respond. She never did. He was in a rush. It was rather stupid to be standing in a doorway talking to an unconscious person who could not hear nor respond to his words. But it was a habit not likely to be broken. He could speak to her because of this. He could bear the pain forward to her, because she would not judge him.

And because she deserved to know these things.

"That frog has no idea what he's doing, most likely. I have to stop him before he kills himself. Or makes a fool out of himself. Whichever is more likely."

The former was more likely. Both America and Germany were intolerant of uprisings. He had learned that lesson well. His arm was healed by now, but he had no doubts America would break it again if he gave the younger Nation any reason.

"I'll be back as soon as I can Liz. I promise."

She did not respond. And England left.

He would have similar conversations with her. Someone had to, while Austria was away. She could not be left alone when something could happen to her. When America might suddenly decide she is not worth keeping around. When Germany might suddenly attack her, no provocation or warning of any sort. And England had promised. So watch her he would.

It was because he stopped to inform her that he was too late.

To say the blood was smeared down the hallway was putting it lightly. It pooled down the walls and nearly flooded the floor. England was faintly aware of thinking that no Nation could bleed this much.

The noise of his boots in the blood sounded like it was simply water. It felt like water when he was kneeling in it. It seemed like water as it seeped into his clothing, into his skin like sweat, into his hair as he bent over to try and recognize the Nation nearly dead.

Why had he gone through the motions?

"He's dead, Eliza. He's dead. Nearly. Enough. It can't be possible. He's always been just there, across the water. I hate him. But he's always there. There needs to be a constant these days, with our heroes destroying the rest of the world, with our friends killing us. I hated him, but at least he was there. He's not there."

She stayed silent.

They were allowed to care for France in the same way they were allowed to care for her, care for Romano, care for Canada (the so few times any of them actually were let to see Canada). Let them lie in a room and when they were not being forced into doing what America told them to do they could wash the wounds with their drinking water, staunch the bleeding and wrap the wounds up with pieces of their sheets and hope for the best.

England only insulted France, so instead he stayed with her.

"They finally made their mistake, Eliza. Germany took Lichtenstein and not Switzerland. This is it. This is going to be our break for freedom. Or our grave. Not that it makes much of a difference to you right now."

He did not know how he had missed it. But someone had to stay calm. Someone had to stay sane. With every other Nation falling apart around him, England had to stay calm.

"America... did not do this on purpose."

Japan's words were choked. Japan did not look at him. Japan was not reacting.

"They are still in control. Were. Germany has bombed the refugees in New York."

"You mean the Holy Roman Empire!" England retorted before he could react. He could not react to this. Just because there was a reason, just because he was not betrayed, just because he could not tell when the person who meant the most to him needed his help...

"There were no real demands," he told her. "No end goal. They are just doing this to be able to say they have done it. Why?"

She stayed silent.

"There has to be a reason. Terrorists instill terror for their own deluded reasons. What are they?"

Nothing.

"Say something!" England shrieked.

Hungary did not say anything, simply continued to breathe. And France did not even do that.

England screamed for a long time. Then he found a gun from Germany's raided weapons storage and went looking for Germany.

Shooting Italy brought back his sanity. Staring down at the wreckage of the once carefree Nation he could see it all clearly. This was utterly pointless. And here England was, making it even more so.

Which was when Germany came. And instead of exacting his revenge... England froze.

Germany did not.


"Arthur..."

"Llyr..." His throat hurt, but from the simple fact it felt as though his blood had dried up. He was so thirsty. The fairy was pressed up against his cheek, palms pressed against his face, her face pressed up against the back of her hands. "You came..."

"Roy is here for you."

"I do not need Scotland's help!" England sat up, the movement practically flinging her away from him, and a resounding crack coming from his hip as he did so. He screamed and gripped at his left leg as if it were the last thing holding him on earth.

"Please Arthur, please listen to me."

Despite the pain England rose to his feet and went to discover the state of the world. And despite her words, she left him. He went to see America. Japan had him, China said. China then proceeded to walk away, dazed expression on his face.

England went to Japan, ignoring the pain, the splintering feeling, and the noises which came from his legs whenever he placed weight on them.

"Where's Alfred?" England asked Japan. Japan was crying.

"He just... he is gone. He is gone. During the night, he left.... I do not know. I do not know..."

England opened his mouth to say that could not be possible. America could not be gone. Alfred was too stubborn, too stupid, too...

Young. He was too young.

But nothing came out.


"England?"

His knock provoked no response. Scotland sighed, entering anyway. He should have known better than to hope, but with Wales consistently saying hope was better than nothing... No, it was all stupid. And he should not be letting Wales rub off on him in any way.

But they were beyond the yelling stages, the calling name stages, the pleading and the questions. Point was that England would not say a word. They would just have to deal with that. England had put a lot of his life into America. Now that America was gone...

Actually, he should not even think that one. If those words slipped out one would have everything in the immediate area promptly thrown at them.

"Oi, crabbit," Scotland tried again as he walked over. England rose his head up from his desk and turned to look at him. "Ai see now Ai merit some o' yer attention." Scotland rolled his eyes.

England only looked at him. Scotland hated it.

"Stop tha'. Ai hae when ye do tha'." England turned, grabbing the computer screen and turning it toward him. Scotland sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose before bothering to glance at what England wanted him to look at. "Yeah, I know o' France's condition." It was hard to miss when a country was going down so fast. Spain could only do so much, caring for Romano, Veneziano, and France. "Wha' o' it?"

England shut his eyes for a few moments before reaching for some papers. It was as if he was forcing himself to grab them – Scotland's first clue he was probably not going to like whatever it was.

"Ye know... if ye stopped bein' so–" Scotland bit his own tongue as he looked at the paper. "Nah. No. No. Yer no' serious?"

England looked slightly annoyed, the closest thing Scotland was likely to get to a 'yes I am serious'.

"Yer an... ye cannae..." Scotland spluttered.

England handed him the phone.

"Oh no. Ai'm no' gonna 'elp ye ruin yerself," Scotland protested, rising to his feet. England continued to hold out the phone. "Llyr, talk some sense inta 'im!" Scotland protested to the ever present fairy. She stared at him, almost in a mirror image of the Nation she now never left.

"Help him, Roy. He will not accept a 'no'. So help him."

Scotland nearly swore. Mabon settled on his shoulder. "What do you really think is best?" Mabon asked him. Scotland nearly squashed him with his hand, but managed to refrain himself.

Then he took the phone.


I am putting up the first chapter now just so people can find the story. Hopefully the end of the month there will be more constant updates.

Oh dear lord, OCs. I hope that does not bother you all. Scotland, Wales, and Ireland will be here, plus a few of the fae folk. I guess this should be another warning: a lot of the story is going to involve the family of the UK plus Ireland. Because I like that image and because I can. Thanks for understanding.

I do not expect this story to be nearly as epic as Discovering Ludwig, especially as some of what has happened is already known. I am going to write this as if Discovering Ludwig is not out there and will raise points, clarify some things and confuse others as if I have not already answered some of the questions in another story. Hopefully the story will work that way.