Wonderland

AngolMoaChan

Hello all! After reading an amazing AU APH fic (If you haven't read You Can't Take the Sky From Me, punch yourself. Then go read it.) I decided to start one of my own. You'll see the universe once we start, kay? Pairings inside will be multiple, but I can guarantee you some Tomato Lovin and some US/UK.

:D

The crystalline white of the moon and stars shone against the inky black streak of the sky, lighting a dim path along the way towards a magnificent, black stone castle. A young man walked along the dirt road, past brown fence posts keeping heirloom tomatoes from blooming into the path under his feet. The man reached over and plucked one from across the fence, examining it under the moonlight; red skin, green leaves. It was obviously very ripe, and very ready to be eaten.

"Brother?" asked a voice from behind the male, too cheerful—a girl stepped out from the shadows, twirling a knife in her hand. "Can we attack them now? Please?"

"Bela," the man said softly, a small smile on his face as he examined the tomato, tossing it from hand to hand, "In time."

"But—when we attack them, then they can join us and the you and I, we--we can get married, married married--!" The girl's voice grew in pitch, the knife glinted; she put her arms around the tall man's neck.

He took in a deep breath, the steel brushing the scarf around his neck. "Belarus…in time, they will be one with us, da? Perhaps…tomorrow will be the day."

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow we can attack, Brother Russia?"

A smile crossed the one called Russia's face. Innocent as the gesture was, on him it was downright dark. He closed his fingers; the tomato in his hand exploded, leaving a splatter of red pulp on the ground below him. "Yes. Tomorrow."

The girl laughed and let go of him, walking beside her brother as their feet squished in the red paste below.

It was warm, it was cozy, and Lovino "Romano" Vargas, was feeling incredibly comfortable. The lanky young man was in his bed, the sunshine barely streaming into his closed eyes, and for once, he felt perfectly, happily, at peace. He blinked slowly, lazily opening his eyes and letting out a yawn. Romano smiled sleepily and cuddled into a ball, feeling the warmth of the covers that…weren't there.

Romano blinked. Wait a second.

He slowly looked down; wrapped around his midsection, his naked midsection, were the tan arms of someone else.

The brown-haired man would have shrieked, had he not known who it eyebrow twitched slightly, and he snarled, "Spain."

The figure behind him was that of an older man, with a shock of messy, dark brown hair and tan skin. He was smiling as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Romano's neck, and in no way shape or form did the one being "nuzzled" find that okay. "Spain" as he had called him, mumbled aimlessly into Romano's skin and sighed happily. "Mmm?"

"SPAIN, YOU BASTARD, GET OFF OF ME!"

With a loud, angry roar, Romano threw the arms of the other off of him, and in a flurry of sheets and limbs, the dark haired man hit the ground. "Oofah!"

"What the hell did you think you were doing in my bed?! Goddammit, Spain!"

The one called Spain finally detangled himself from the white sheets to peer up at Romano with innocent green eyes. "Romanito, you sound so accusatory! It was cold and lonely in my room, so I came to visit you!"

"Don't call me that!" He blushed as he pulled on his boxers. Romano normally slept naked, there was nothing wrong with that, but waking up with Spain beside him…that was weird. Really weird. "You're supposed to be a king, you damn bastard."

Spain stood up and stretched, yawning luxuriously. He moved over to the doorway and grinned at his former bedmate. "Now, now, Romano. I'm going to get dressed, so can you meet me in the boardroom in a few minutes?"

Romano frowned as he grabbed a button-down shirt from a wardrobe in the corner. "Fine, whatever."

"And Romano…"

"What?"

"Make sure you don't go there looking like that. People might thing something's going on between us." Spain winked cheekily and shut the door as a pillow sailed into the spot just where his head had been.

-

Spain frowned at his reflection in a full size mirror. Wearing preposterously fancy clothes—a great red coat, a ruffled collar, and dark black pants--the dark haired man irritably adjusted the button on his chest, a black, latticework heart on an ivory circle. He reached over the mirror and carefully placed a small, golden crown atop of his dark hair, then sighed. "Time to face the day, your highness."

Spain turned on his heel and headed out of the doorway. Just like any other great kingdom, the Heart Monarchy was a proud tradition passed on from his grandfather, to his father, and now down to him. Padding lightly down the carpeted corridors of the castle, Spain paused to look out of one of the great, arching windows.

Below him lay the city of Lovelace, the country's capital. The streets were alive with merchants and townspeople alike, milling from stand to stand amongst the cobblestone streets, going about their days with cheer. Beyond the people, and the old, warm brick buildings, beyond the hubbub and clatter of the city, lay miles of greenery, stretched out and dotted with paint drops of red—tomatoes, his country's prized export. He smiled; there was something so calmly refreshing about the sight of a nation at peace.

"Hey, Spain! Are you coming into the damn meeting room or not?"

Spain turned away from the window to see Romano, looking impatiently at him. A smile crossed his face and he nodded, bounding down the hallway towards his right hand man, "Yes, yes~! I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Romano rolled his eyes as he turned around, shifting his hands into the pockets of his military uniform. Why Spain thought that the birthday party for his military captain was so important, he would never understand.

It started as a small house fire in the village. As a small crowd gathered about the burning house, thankful that no one had been inside, a group of unfamiliar figures dressed in dark black dress uniforms crept by. Russia walked with his hands in his pockets, fingers drumming on a pistol resting inside. He had utter confidence in his plan, that it would work—it had been planned and gone over a thousand times by each of his confidantes. The idea of throwing the entire land of Utopia out of balance put a smile on his face; he would destroy these countries and build them anew, creating the warmth of sunflowers where these blasted tomatoes had once been.

Russia looked up. Before him lay the great obsidian castle of Heart, the Corazón, it's walls glimmering in the morning sunshine. Today was the day; he could feel the tension burning in his troupe; especially coming from the girl beside him. "Belarus," he said softly, turning to the girl from before.

She smiled immediately, her eyes filled with adoration. "Yes, brother, yes?"

"Go ahead to the castle. Make our presence known."

Belarus cackled, pulling a long butcher's knife from near nowhere. "Yes, brother Russia!"

She stole off into the crowd, barely a streak of black, rushing to assault the Corazón, and Russia smiled. To his left, a timid young man with long brown hair turned his head, looking at his superior. "Sir…?"

He turned back to his subordinate with a smile, "Don't you worry, Lithuania. Everything is going to be great."

Lithuania gulped. He had the distinct feeling that anything he could be planning could not, in fact, be so great.

"Feliz cumpleaños a ti, feliz cumpleaños a ti, feliz cumpleaños a Prussssiaaaaa! Feliz cumpleaños a tii!"

The boardroom of the Corazón erupted in cheers as Spain finished his heartfelt rendition of "Happy birthday" towards his military commander. Prussia put his feet up on the large brown table in the center of the room and chortled, knocking back a large pint of beer. "Yeah, yeah, Happy birthday to the oh-so-awesome me!"

Romano, sitting across from Spain, sighed as he put his chin in his hand. He had always hated parties, and hated them with a freaking passion. Amongst the boisterous partiers, especially the birthday boy himself, "Captain Awesome", he was…well, he was bored.

"Lovino~! Why the long face?" Spain's voice snapped the young man out of his thoughts. He put his hands on Romano's shoulders, using his real name affectionately, "It's a party! Have a beer or something¸ por favor?"

"You know I don't like it." He grumbled, shrugging his shoulders out of Spain's warm grip, "This party is stupid. I don't even like Prussia. Can I just go back to sleep?"

Suddenly, before Spain could even reply, there was an ear-piercing shriek from the hallway. The entire room went silent—it was Spain who leapt to action first. He banged the door open, his hand at the blade at his waist. "What was that--?!"

"Your highness," said a surprisingly calm voice from the other end of the table, belonging to a tan man with dark hair, two small curls sticking up half-heartedly from the top of his head, "You shouldn't go."

"I'm going." Replied the king softly. More shrieks came from the hallways, along with a peal of laughter, "My subjects are in danger and I will not let them come to any harm. You all are to stay here, except Prussia."

"Birthday boy's getting some action! Alllll-right!" Prussia leapt from his seat and drew an impressive sized sword from his side, grinning madly, a gleam in his red eyes. "Let's go!"

Romano leapt from his seat. "Spain, you bastard, what about me?!"

"No, Romano. You are to stay, and that is final." Spain's voice carried an edge, like sharp glass. Green met brown in a matchup—Romano looked to the side, bitterly, and Spain turned on his heel. "I'll be back."

"Yeah." Romano mumbled as the two shut the door, "You better."

Belarus swung her knife throughout the hallways of the castle, painting the walls red with the spilled blood of castle members. She laughed delightedly to herself and called, "Brother, oh brother, it's safe~! Come on out and play with me!"

Each member she met, Belarus ruthlessly attacked, grinning to herself. Perhaps after the task was completed, Russia would marry her, after all. The very thought made the pretty young woman grin delightedly, twirling her knife in her hand. She made her way up the great spiral staircase towards the 'meeting room', where she would soon get to help her brother take down that Spain guy, and—

"Hey there, crazy lady."

Belarus whirled around, her Mary Jane shoes clicking on the lineoleum floor. Staring at her from the top of the staircase was a man with white, silvery hair and bright red eyes. He was waving a rapier lazily, watching her, "Who are you?!"

"Only the King of Awesome himself, Prussia!" Prussia replied, grinning as he pointed his rapier at her, "And I'm afraid I can't just let you slaughter people in my castle!"

"The King of…what? You're not the King! Spain is!" Belarus replied impatiently, swiping her knife in the air, "Take me to him or I'll kill you too!"

"Wow, you're pretty insane, arentcha? Tell ya what. I'm Spain's military commander, and I can't let you see him. However—you wanna fight—"

With that said, Prussia leapt from the top level of the stairs and landed with a heavy thud on the linoleum, pointing his rapier at her. "Fight me!"

Russia made his way through the halls of the castle undisturbed, having found a secret staircase though the back garden. Everything was working as planned. Belarus was on a rampant spree, taking out those left and right—soon, he would meet up with the King, Spain. Any moment now.

Lithuania followed Russia nervously, keeping an eye out for anyone around them, as instructed. Already, he had spotted two children in the garden, and shooed them to safety, thanking his lucky stars that his superior failed to notice them. He didn't like the endless violence that seemed to follow them around; the blood on the walls was starting to make him queasy.

"Lithuania?"

The brown haired man jumped at the voice; it was Russia, who smiled kindly at his subordinate. "Come now. We have to keep moving."

"R-right…"

Left, right, slashed across. Spain's saber cut through the air like a whip, keeping time as three burly soldiers surrounded him. They were cloaked in black so he couldn't see their faces—just their weapons, short jagged daggers. Spain blocked the slice of one with a swift hand, ducking under as another dagger sliced over his head. Quickly, he leapt in the air as two of the three soldiers rushed him; they crashed into each other and hit the linoleum floor, out cold. Spain turned to face his final adversary, keeping his saber at ready. Immediately, the hall was filled with the sound of clashing metal, the two soldiers fighting valiantly. However, the mysterious man was no match for Spain; faster than his eyes could see, he was on the ground, a massive X shaped wound across his torso. The king frowned, looking at the slain soldier. On his hand, there was a bright red mark—a spade.

A gasp of horror escaped Spain's throat. Immediately, he turned around, making a mad dash for the meeting room back upstairs, one thought on his mind.

Romano!

The door to the meeting room slammed open, not seconds later. The harried, rushed king stared into the room, to be met with a horrific sight.

His advisors…all of them …were dead.

People he had known, he had cared for, people who had been by his side since he was a tiny child were gone, lying slumped and broken against the walls of his cheery boardroom, their blood painting the walls red. Sitting in the center of the room, an easy smile on his face and a bloody pipe in his hand, was the King of the Spade Country—Russia. "Hello, Spain. How nice to see you!"

Spain's head spun wildly, full of emotion. There, bludgeoned to death were his friends, his closest allies…yet, Romano and Greece were nowhere to be found. Anger overtook him, his usually calm, happy demeanor broken as he swung his bloody saber into a ready position. "RUSSIA!"

And there you have the first chapter of Wonderland. Hope everyone enjoyed it! :D I should be updating this sucker pretty often now, seeing as how Hetalia ate my brain after Otakon. (If anyone was there, I was the Femerica~! :D)