Epilogue

A pair of brilliantly violet eyes opened slowly to stare up at a white canopy. Victoria didn't move. For some amount of time she did not bother to count the White Horseman remained stationary, laying flat in her too large bed and gazing up at the image of Triumph that lay above her. Staring, just staring. Everything was so quiet. She could only hear the sound of her own breathing and the light ruffling of sheets as she shifted slightly. Had the endless world that made up her dwelling place always reeked of such mundanity and tedium? Or was it just the result of her brief time being reunited with her family that had made the prospect of her normal day to day activities seem so... dull. When she had enough of staring at her canopy the woman slowly turned her head to face the stained glass window that lay above her chess table. Victory's hair was splayed out beneath her like a silver halo across the white sheets. Everything in here was too white. Far too white. She looked down to her chess table and her eye caught sight of the red knight. 'Arthur' she closed her eyes and imagined.

"Victory" she would hear him call her name and two strong arms would wrap around her from behind. Pulling her flush against his warm chest as he nuzzled his face in her hair. Dark wings would encircle her in their heat and she would pull in her own white ones in surrender to his comfort. She would sigh and lean back against him and they would lay there for most of the day. Drinking in the feeling of having each other close as they lazed about. They would whisper 'I love you's' and other sweet nothings to each other and it would all be perfect.

Eris opened her eyes and chose to ignore the small bead of water that had somehow found its' way to the corner of her eye and was now trailing a path down her cheek. The dream was only that. A dream. Her War had been there, but now he was gone again. He was back on Earth. A nation for whom she would have to wait to be with once again. But at least she could watch over him this way. A time would come when he would die though. And from then on she would simply have to wait until the call was made for him to rise once again. And it was the thought of that inevitability that made her shed silent and lonely tears.

Not wishing to remain in bed any longer Victory silently sat up and slid off the bed. The sheets had partially tangled with her long limbs but they fell away before long as she reached her wardrobe. She searched through for clothing to wear but everything was so constrictive and plain that she didn't find anything that suited her. So, taking up her white sheet she wrapped the long linen around herself and made her way out of the room and into the hallway. With the blanket trailing behind her she walked silently through the empty halls. A ghost in a home that was once so full of life. Victoria reached her destination and sighed as she entered the red room. Dropping her white sheets she lay herself across the red and black ones of War's bed and buried her face in one of the pillows. It was faint. But his scent was there. She took a deep breath of it. Committing it to memory before getting up once more and this time opening the closet in his room.

Pulling out a white shirt that he had left from his short stay she pulled the garment over her slender frame and enjoyed the feel of it draping over her. Because she was shorter, the shirt hung down to her mid thighs and the arms trailed down past the tips of her fingers slightly. It wasn't exactly appropriate to wear around in public but she was alone in this house so she didn't care. Victoria pulled her long hair out from under the shirt and let it settle against her back. She certainly didn't look the part of some great warrior who had slaughtered countless demons with her bare hands not two nights before but she didn't care. As of right now she felt like a girl who had just been separated from her love so that was exactly how she was going to appear. Even if only to herself. All she needed now was some sad movie and a carton of ice cream to make the image complete. Taking one last look around, Victoria plucked the red knight from its place on Arthur's chess table and held it tight against her chest before walking out.

The angels were all gone. They had departed back to Paradise once the other two horsemen had descended back to Earth. So she walked the empty halls to a particular study she visited daily as a sort of ritual to aid the aching of her heart. Or maybe drown herself in her misery. It was hard to tell. This particular study was Pestilence's. As she opened the door to the small room she was met by a large desk which held two objects. The Scales of Judgement, and an hourglass. But ignoring those two objects Victoria turned her attention to the wall opposite the desk which held a fireplace. Picking up a small carving knife from the mantle, Victory completed her daily ritual. She took the knife and carved a small line, no longer than a fingernail into the wall next to countless others of the same size. Another day.

Replacing the knife, the horseman took a step back to look over the result of her toils. Over three quarters of the wall were covered in these small white niches in the wood. Each one representing another day War and Death spent on Earth. She thought of it as a small way of punishing Pestilence. Every time he would walk into this study he would be reminded of how long his brothers had suffered. That she had suffered.

"Must you always do that?" Victoria gave an indignant gasp at the sudden voice. Twirling to face the intruder, and tugging down Arthur's shirt to prevent anything from showing the horseman glared at her counterpart who was seated calmly at the desk.

"Good Lord Pestilence how do you do that?" Victory hissed. Meeting the hooded figure of the horseman she had raised, Eris' temporary anger subsided. "I didn't even notice you were here."

Pestilence heaved a deep sigh and sat back in the chair of his desk. "I was here the entire time."

Victoria huffed. "Well anyway, you know why I do it."

Ignoring the fact that his question went mostly unanswered, Pestilence observed the hourglass. It was an odd thing. The sands remained still even as the timepiece was set upright. There was some that had fallen to the lower chamber, but it was not a steady stream. A single grain could fall after a century or a third of what remained could be displaced in a second. None could understand its pattern. Not even Pestilence who spent much of his time studying his second gift given to him by the Creator. "What is the count?" Victoria asked, deliberately looking away from the desk.

Pestilence leveled a measuring look at his elder sister before glancing back to the hourglass. "Eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and twenty three." Victoria's head immediately swiveled around to face the hourglass. "Two grains fell after our brothers returned to Earth. Tell me, did you think to initiate the end by returning Death's memories?"

Again Victory scoffed as if offended. "I would never seek to undermine the Creator's will. My intentions were only ever to see War once more. And to have him see me. Is that so wrong? And if it just so happened to speed along the time until we can be reunited for the rest of eternity then so be it."

The hourglass. The only indication of how soon it would be until the End of Days. Until the first seal would be broken. There now remained eighty-nine thousand, four hundred and twenty-three grains left to fall. None could say when the last would drop to the lower chamber. All the Horsemen could do was wait in eager anticipation. "Was it worth it?" Pestilence questioned after a moment of silence between the two.

Victory hugged herself even tighter. "I don't know." Victoria could tell by the way Pestilence shifted in his chair that he was made uncomfortable by this. He felt guilty. 'Good' she thought to herself. "I would not have traded that short time with him for anything. But... now it is like a raw wound. I've lost him all over again. Along with Death. I just don't know how much longer I can take this. You are barely ever here and I am alone. Alone in this place with nothing but my memories. I can go to Earth to look after him but he cannot see me. And when it matters most even I, Victory herself, can do nothing to help him." Victoria's gaze shifted to stare deep into the shadows of Pestilence's cowl to where she imagined his eyes rested. "Tell me. What is the use of power if you cannot protect the ones you love?"

For a long while they remained silent. Staring at one another.

"I never meant to hurt you sister" Pestilence finally said quietly. "You or War."

"Yet I wonder why it is War and I suffer more than Death ever has from this supposed punishment." Victory had to look away. Her eyes stung and she had to press a hand to them to stifle the tears that threatened to spill over.

"It was the only way. Isn't that why you forgave him? Has this whole experience shown you nothing? Death cares for War more than his own life. That is why it is War's life that must be taken away from him. It was the only way for the scales to be balanced again. For Death to learn the value of life." Victory nodded begrudgingly in understanding. "That being said" Pestilence stood from his chair. "I have wronged both of my elder siblings in a way that is unforgivable. So I want to make it right." The Black Horseman came to stand before the White.

Victory eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

"I would see you stand beside War once again." Victoria's eyes widened in shock.

"Y-you would return him here?" she dared not hope too much.

Pestilence raised a hand and shook his head. "No. You misunderstand. England must remain on Earth. But there is no reason why you might not join him." Victoria gasped.

The woman ran a shaky hand through her long hair and felt herself sink down to the ground. She stared unseeingly at the ground as Pestilence knelt before her. "You mean give up my life as a Horseman? Become like him?" Pestilence nodded. "You would raise a new nation for me?" She shook her head at the thought. "I couldn't. I will never fight him. If I became a nation then circumstances might force me to go to war against him. I would never tolerate that."

Pestilence rested a hand on her shoulder. "No. I cannot create a new nation. The world is filled. The borders set and the blank spaces on the map filled in. I cannot raise you to a nation, but I can give you a life at his side. Though you would follow him this time instead of the other way around."

Hope filled Victory's eyes. "Do it. I don't care if I am nothing but a territory to him. If I can be by his side until the End then I will be content."

"You would not have the powers of Victory as you do now" Pestilence warned. "Your life will be tied to his and if he should fall. So will you."

At this Victoria smirked. "You are suggesting that the two of us together could be overcome."

Pestilence, though the other horseman couldn't see, matched her smile. "You accept then?"

Victory stood and Pestilence followed suit. "Yes" she stated proudly.

The hooded Horseman came to stand behind his sister. Taking a deep breath he rested his hands on her shoulders. "Show me your wings" he ordered with some hesitance. Victory gulped but did so. Unfurling the pristine white appendages.

"Will it hurt?" Victory asked quietly. She had seen how War and Death had been cast to Earth. Arthur's screams had echoed in her ears and nightmares for a long time after.

Pestilence sighed sadly and took grip of the wings at their base. "More than anything you have ever felt or likely ever will." He never was one for sugarcoating the truth.

Victoria took a shuddering sigh to prepare herself. "There are worse things that physical pain. Just make it quick." Pestilence nodded silently behind her and his grip tightened. "And Pestilence?" she quickly cut in. Looking over her shoulder at the younger horseman.

"Hmm?"

"I want to remember. You will not take my memories from me. Is that understood?"

"Of course. You and War will both have full knowledge of your true identities and everything that has taken place" he swore. Victory nodded in acknowledgement and turned to face forward again. "Then farewell brother."

"Farewell Victory." To her credit, Victoria did not scream. But instead she allowed a smile to grace her lips even as tears of pain cascaded down her cheeks as her wings were torn from her back.

The last sensation the Horseman of Victory felt was that of falling.

England sat in an armchair in his bedroom staring out the window. It was raining again. Somewhere in the back of his mind Arthur registered that his tea was getting cold but he couldn't bring himself to care. So England simply continued to gaze at the rain. His chin resting on his fist which was propped up on the arm of the chair. Nothing had changed. Really he had known it wouldn't but he had hoped. But America was content to leave things the way they were. He had his friends and his strong nation. What real need did he have for an older nation like England? Arthur really shouldn't have held Alfred to what he had said when he had his memories as Death. It wasn't fair to him. But that didn't mean it hurt any less.

THUD.

The sound of something heavy making contact with the ground brought England out of his thoughts. The Brit jumped, nearly spilling his cold tea as he did so. "What the-" he shut himself up and strained his ears to try and hear what had made the noise. 'Could it be an intruder?' Well if it was, the individual had definitely picked the wrong house to try and rob. England was in no mood to be civil and he would beat the crap out of whoever it was.

Reaching into his nightstand, Arthur plucked his handgun from the drawer and quietly clicked off the safety. It never hurt to be prepared. Slowly, and with gun at the ready the island nation made his way out of his bedroom and started inching down the stairs to the main floor where he had heard the noise come from. But while he continued to try and listen for more sounds to indicate where exactly the intruder was he was met with nothing but silence.

That was until he heard a light groan. So whoever this was had to be a woman. Still though, Arthur knew better than to take whoever this was lightly because of it. Turning the corner, England lifted his gun and trained it on the first thing he found out of place. And then subsequently dropped the weapon in shock.

There, laying on the ground in a small heap and wearing nothing but a long dress shirt he was sure belonged to him, was Victoria. Sure she looked different. Her hair was a different color. No longer that strange and shifting shade of silver and black, her hair was now an extremely light platinum blonde with highlights of a darker, dirtier blond that more closely resembled his own. Her skin as well, was less ashen color and instead a lighter peach color that was more, human. But still, it was her. No matter what form, War would always recognize Victory.

"Ugh" she groaned again. Victoria squirmed a little and her eyes fluttered open. They were still violet colored, but in them were flecks of green. The eyes met his. "A-Arthur?" Victoria raised a shaking hand and reached it out to his own. Immediately, England grasped it and held it close. She smiled at that. "You can see me. It worked."

England was not sure how to feel. He was pleased yes. Victoria was here. Somehow she was here, with him, on Earth. But that could only mean that Pestilence had done the same to her as he had to him. And that made him fill with dread. He did not wish that pain on Victory. "Victoria... how?"

The former horseman tightened her grip on Arthur and pulled herself up. In so doing Arthur caught sight of the dark red stains that covered the back of the shirt she was wearing. Gasping in horror England didn't think before lifting his hand to touch the skin beneath the blood. "Aah!" Victoria gasped in pain and collapsed against Arthur's chest.

"Shit. Victoria I'm so sorry!" Arthur moved his hands to Victoria's arms so as to not put further pressure on her now apparent injuries. "How did this happen?" he asked with concern.

Victoria looked up and smiled weakly, yet genuinely. "I asked Pestilence to do it. So that I could be like you."

England gasped. "Like me-" for the first time Arthur noticed the feeling that was coming off of Victoria. It was like any of the other nations, but at the same time, not.

"I suppose I ought to call you England now" she said with a smile. Using Arthur for support the two made their way to a standing position. He watched, stunned, as Victoria lifted his hand and intertwined their fingers. A shock traveled between them and resonated in Arthur's heart.

In her touch he felt the most treasured of his cities. The place most key to his survival. "London" he whispered, looking up to meet Victoria's eyes. She jumped a little at the name. "My heart."

England wrapped his arms around London's waist, careful to avoid the wounds on her back. He pulled her close, marvelling at how she seemed smaller now. A little shorter, definitely weaker, she even appeared younger. As a horseman she had appeared a little older than Arthur, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five, but now she seemed barely older than Alfred, closer to twenty or twenty-one. But without a doubt she was just as amazing as when she was Victory. Perhaps even more so because now they really had become like one body. How appropriate. She was now his heart given form. "Just like God gave Adam Eve" she whispered against his chest, listening intently to the heart within which beat perfectly in time with hers. "You were made for me. We were always meant to be of one flesh and now we truly are. I am yours and you are mine."

England lifted his hand to take London's chin and tilted it upwards so that her eyes could meet his. "Forever and always. From now until eternity and every moment after." Gently, so as not to irritate her horrible wounds, Arthur lifted Victoria up slightly, and dove down to meet her lips with his.

'He's late.' America couldn't help the fact that his foot was bouncing up and down impatiently under the large table of the meeting room. All of the other nations were here. Literally everyone else who was usually late for one reason or another were here except for one. Surveying the room Alfred took note of some of these. Spain it seemed had woken up from his siesta and dragged Romano in with him. Greece as well, looked to have at least waited until he was seated to fall asleep. Heck, America was here on time instead of heroically making his fashionably late entrance! And yet, for some reason, England, one of the more punctual of the nations was now- America looked over to the clock on the wall- over FIFTEEN minutes late.

"Ahem. Perhaps it is time we begin?" Germany asked tentatively of the unusually quiet room. This was the third time he had tried to start the meeting but just like both five and ten minutes ago America was having none of it.

"No way man! Iggy's still not here yet. We can't start without him!" Alfred started chewing on the nail of his thumb nervously as he continued to bounce his leg up and down. What could keep the Brit from coming to a meeting on time? The guy even came when he was sick with the flu for crying out loud! 'Could he have gotten really REALLY sick? What if the old man slipped and couldn't get up!" Really if anyone else could have heard the thoughts in the American's head they would realize that he was just being ridiculous. But the young nation was honestly just concerned. He had been ever since the end of that last meeting.

England had grown distant in the last month. America had tried calling several times either to try and make it up to him for blowing the Brit off or just to say hi, but every time he got no answer. Alfred had become so worried in fact that he had even nation-hopped over to Arthur's London home to check up on him only to find that the guy wasn't home. In the end the young man had settled for waiting until this month's meeting to find out what was up but now it seemed that the prospects of that happening were slim.

Another five minutes went by.

England was now twenty minutes late.

'That's it!' Faster than most would think possible America jumped to his feet. Slamming his hands down on the table as he did so. He was about to proclaim that he was going to find the Brit and find out what was wrong when voices started filtering through the doorway.

"Honestly you look fine" came the recognizable sound of England's voice.

"Are you sure? But what if they don't like it? You said it yourself, there's no one else like me" came the response. This time in a voice of someone America could not recognize.

Something that sounded like sighing erupted from just outside the doorway. "Look. It's the uniform, you have to wear it. And besides, I said that because there's no one else as amazing or beautiful or perfect as you. And if anyone has anything bad to say about what you are then they'll have to deal with the both of us. Now come on, we're already late. They probably already started." All heads turned to the double doors as they were opened to admit two figures dressed in a familiar green uniform.

The first, was England. And the second, was a woman no one recognized. Though America did feel a certain familiarity when he looked at her. "Oh" England muttered dumbly when he realized that all eyes were on them. The Brit cleared his throat and then gestured a hand towards his blond companion. "So sorry to interrupt but I have someone I would like to introduce to everyone. This," he said gesturing towards the woman with violet eyes. "Is Victoria Kirkland. You would better know her as London. My capital." A stunned silence filled the meeting room. At first both Britons shared slight flushes of embarrassment which turned to a frustrated scowl as minutes went by without a single word being uttered. "Well someone bloody say something!" England shouted.

"Angleterre how is this possible? I don't think there has ever been a personified city before." France mentioned. Many of the other nations nodded their heads in agreement over this fact, while America was simply staring blankly.

"Well what about Seborga?" Arthur argued back, taking London's hand defensively in his.

"Ve~ It's not exactly the same thing" Italy tentatively piped in but was immediately silenced as he met the piercing glare of two angry Kirklands.

This time it was Victoria who spoke in response. Leveling the poor Northern Italian with a scary grin that was on par with Russia's, she asked, "You were saying?"

Italy shrieked in terror and hid behind Germany. "N-Niente" he whispered to the scary woman. Alfred felt a shiver run down his spine. Damn, that woman was scary. And Feliciano, the poor guy, was already so frightened of England. London was probably going to give him a nervous breakdown.

"Bene" she said back with an oddly good Italian accent. It earned the capital a few strange looks from the other nations, but Victoria didn't seem to notice.

A couple of minutes went by with more introductions being made and a very heated debate between Victoria and Francis about whether or not, since London was a city in England, that the woman was Arthur's daughter. At the very suggestion England had collapsed with a horrified face in one of the open chairs on the table while Victoria proceeded to strangle the Frenchman just like England usually did.

All the while, America was oddly silent. Normally he would have done something by now to get the attention in the room back on the hero, but for some reason he couldn't stop looking between Arthur and Victoria with an odd expression. Something about her, gave him a sense of foreboding. But at the same time he couldn't help but be thankful for her. In the short time he had known her during the course of the meeting the superpower couldn't deny that she was good for England. She seemed to bring a kind of fire and new life into his old mentor that Alfred had not seen in a long while. Well, that is, after he had gotten over the shock of the possibility that she was his daughter. 'He really doesn't need me. Arthur doesn't need me to be his brother. He has her now, that should be enough to make him happy' he decided inwardly with a sad smile.

Alfred did want to get closer to Arthur again. Like they used to be, but he just wasn't sure how to do it. "Hey you're the United States of America right?" Alfred was pulled out of his inner thoughts by a pair of violet eyes and a slender, pale hand held out to him. Looking up he saw Victoria offering a hand for the other to shake. America did so.

"Yeah, but you can just call me America or Alfred if you want. Alfred F. Jones." Something Alfred wasn't privy to made the blonde flinch at the mention of America's human name, but she shook it off quickly enough.

"Well, since the Frog seems to have everyone convinced, incorrectly mind you, that I'm England's daughter that would make you my uncle right?" she gave America a knowing smile as the young nation could only gape.

Alfred's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "Your... your uncle... That would make me-"

"Yes. Well technically maybe not but Arthur did say you two were like brothers right?" Alfred continued to look stunned as he looked over Victoria's shoulder to see Arthur observing them both. The Brit seemed to have caught up with their conversation because he spared London a quick glance before meeting America's stare. He was smiling and arched one of his large eyebrows in silent question. Alfred grinned and looked back to Victoria who had a smug and definitely pleased look on her face.

"Heck yeah! I'm your uncle America!" Maybe England wanted him around more than he thought.

Matthew Williams, better known as Canada, watched everything that was happening with a small, amused smile on his lips. This meeting, he wasn't even sure if you could call it a meeting anymore, had gotten very interesting now that the world had been introduced to London, or Victoria Kirkland if you preferred. The whole world had started posing questions to the odd couple. Arthur and Victoria were now tag teaming to try and convince everyone once again that 'NO THEY WERE NOT FATHER AND DAUGHTER!' Canada had to admit it was rather amusing. Of course he had been forgotten during the course of all this commotion. Not that the situation was entirely unexpected to the North American. He didn't mind being overlooked. Sure it had been hard at first, but he had learned to cope with blending into the background long ago. Consequence of being a half-existence and all that.

Besides, what better way was there to quietly watch over the well-being of his fellow horsemen on Earth?

THE END

And we have arrived at the end! For real this time! So you see I am not completely heartless. It may not be a perfect happy ending, but there is hope for them. For those who guessed you were right! Matthew is Pestilence. The mastermind behind everything! And just so it's clear no one knows he's Pestilence. Not even Victoria. The reason why no one ever notices him is because he is the only one of the Four who is dealing with being a Nation and a Horseman at the same time. Because of that he doesn't exist completely in either place. As for making Victoria London. I was originally going to make her another country or maybe the Isle of Man, but then I figured Victory wouldn't settle for that because there would always be the possibility of hostilities between whatever nation she became and England. So I made her his capital instead. She is NOT his daughter. I just read other stories where states and capitals were the nations' children so I felt the need to clarify. So what did you all think? Good? Bad? Please tell me what you think about this story. I really enjoyed writing my first multi chapter story and am excited to write another. (As soon as I come up with an AU.) Just a heads up I am thinking of rewriting the first chapter because as I mentioned previously I wrote that when this was meant to be a completely different story. So if you have any objections to that let me know. And one last time thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story and reviewed! I say this a lot but you guys really are amazing! Bye!