A/N: I apologize for the lack of communication! I was gone on holidays *bows head*. I will, however, be replying to your earlier reviews ASAP. I just thought I'd post this first to say hello...

Title: In the Shadow of Albion
Rating: R

Pairing(s): England/Italy and other multiplepairings (quite literally); e.g., Germany/Italy, US/UK, Spain/South Italy, etc...
Warnings: dark!England, romance, violence, a smidgen of language, innuendos, and smex (though I don't know to what level of detail just yet; possibly a smidgen on the dub-con-ish side of life, though)
Fun Facts: As far as historical facts go, I'll try to explain everything over the course of the chapter, but if I sneak any inside jokes into the mix I'll point them out at the bottom of the page.
Translations: Again, any of the garble I insult your senses with will be translated at the bottom of the page (special to Red Hot Holly Berries for the proper Italian, though, and for also correcting my French).
Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs entirely to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Summary: Meddling with the darker arts, England unwittingly unleashes a side of himself he thought was good and dead. And it's really too bad Italy's the only one that seems to notice anything's wrong with the old Empire...

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Gilbert was not an early riser by nature. The only time Feliciano could recall seeing the man fully conscious before ten a.m. on a weekday was during the war, and back then nobody really slept much at all, even if you were the 'Awesomest being in the WORLD' (as was written on the wooden plaque nailed on the outside of Gilbert's bedroom door). Also on that point, Gilbert was not a particularly good spy when working alone, for the simple reason that he usually concocted his own plans and said plans were of an awfully flawed design. Feliciano, however, had been clear in his instructions, and since he asked Gilbert to watch and do nothing more, the man shouldn't have had any trouble whatsoever in evading capture.

When Feliciano's phone rang at five thirty in morning, though, (which was an ungodly hour by his standards) he began to feel a little uneasy.

In all actuality, it was really Ludwig who heard his phone. They were curled up together in bed, Ludwig on his back with Feliciano pressed into his side, head resting lightly on his lover's chest, and both stirred when the German reached over to grab his lover's phone.

"It's yours, Liebling."

"Grazie," he mumbled, and said nothing more as he reached up to take the proffered cell. It was too early in the day for his mind to function properly, and he wasn't entirely sure he could form a proper sentence to save his life, but he could be cordially when needed and, besides, it could've been his brother calling to complain about his Spaniard. So he rose languidly from the bed with a reluctance that was echoed by the miserable sigh behind him and fiddled with the vibrating phone until he found the call button. Turning, he didn't have to look at Ludwig to know that the man's eyes were following his every move, admiring him nude with a possessive gleam that sent chills down Feliciano's spine, though he tried to put it out of his mind when he heard the heavy breathing on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Eh, Feli?"

"Sì." It was Gilbert, he realized, and so he wandered around the foot of the bed to drop onto the divan by the window. The curtains were closed but they glowed diaphanously with the first blush of day and he felt warm enough sitting there without any clothes on. "How are you?"

"Good...I guess."

"Is something wrong?" He tried to keep his voice level, stretching his legs out slowly so that his lover would focus on them rather than the way he was chewing on his bottom lip. The man didn't need to know that he was collaborating with his brother.

"Yes and no? I'm not sure...I think you might be right, though. Something's definitely up with old Artie."

"What did you see?"

Ludwig stretched out his own legs under the covers and scratched his neck. Then he crossed his arm over his eyes and sighed.

"First I found him talking with Alfred. Nothing unusual there, right? Except Alfred was having a one-sided shouting match with Arthur while the guy just stood there and smiled. Didn't rise to the bait. Not even once."

'Good,' Feliciano thought. At least now he wasn't the only one who'd taken notice of England's odd behaviour. And maybe he could talk to America later, perhaps squeeze a little information out of him. After all, Alfred was the only close correspondent of England's that he hadn't had a chance to chat privately with yet. He could very well figure the whole thing out with the American's input alone, considering that this entire mess apparently started with a fight between the two.

"Then Arthur's other kid wander by. You know the one, right—Matthew? Well, he kind of looked like he wanted to leave with Alfred, but then Arthur muttered something and it stopped him dead in his tracks."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. He looked confused, maybe? Alfred didn't notice right away, but then he started snapping his fingers in front of his face and Canada just waved him off."

The fact that England had been meddling in the affairs between the two brothers wasn't new to Feliciano, though he had to admit that it was starting to pique his interest. It was clear to him that, at least now, England didn't want them to be on good terms with one another.

"Is there any chance you heard what they were talking about?"

"Not really. Alfred kept telling Arthur to stay out of his business, but, like I said, Arthur didn't say too much himself."

"Nothing at all?" Feliciano whispered, lifting his hand to his mouth so that he could chew on his nail. He needed something to go by...

"Well, by that point he just kind of scoffed at Alfred's antics and told him that he and Matthew had important business to discuss. Then he left the guy standing there and took off with Mattie."

Feliciano wanted to ask if the man had followed him from there, but Ludwig was still awake.

"Anyhow, I had to call Francis to figure out how to get into his hidden passage at the Buck House, but I think I caught up with them in time to catch the important part."

"Oh?"

"You know...the kind of 'lie back and think of England' business? Literally, except I think Mattie might've actually enjoyed it for a bit..." Gilbert lulled here for a moment and Feliciano wondered if he was embarrassed. But just as soon as he was about to open his mouth, Gilbert continued. "Stupid Brit. He's got a beautiful kid, you know? But Arthur was mumbling something the entire time and Matthew looked kind of dazed and feverish by the end of it. Said he felt sick. Then he just got up, apologized, and left, and Arthur didn't do a thing to stop him."

"That's...well, that's just business," Feliciano sighed, which was really the bitter truth. Generally speaking, he didn't hang around afterwards unless he was with Ludwig, but that was because Ludwig was Ludwig. Their relationship wasn't strictly 'business'...

Then again, Matthew and Arthur weren't exactly strangers either. Matthew had known the Brit almost his entire life.

"I guess...So, anyways, I followed Matthew to his hotel and asked him what he was up to. He wanted to know what I was doing in London, but I just told him I missed him and had been looking for him all night. I asked him where he'd been, and you know what he said? Here's the kicker, beautiful—he couldn't remember. Not a damn thing. He said he guessed he was probably with Alfred, but that was about it."

Feliciano's heart plummeted into his stomach. Not only because he felt a little ill for the Canadian, but because he himself had had a similar experience with England—but all he could really remember was a kiss. Whether or not it had carried on beyond that point was something of a mystery, but if England had managed to get him back to Antonio and Romano on time, then he doubted they'd made any detours after their little dinner at Babylon.

At least, that's what he was hoping.

"So, yeah, that's all I've got right now. Mattie asked me to hang around for a bit, otherwise I would've called you earlier, but I've been up all night, beautiful, so I'm gonna hit the sack right now—oh, but tell Ludwig he's the luckiest bastard on earth, and that if I find out he isn't giving you the best sex in the universe, I'll beat him within an inch of his life with Herr Stick. Ja?"

Feliciano blushed. "Please, don't worry about it. He's...he's very good."

"He'd better be, that Hurensohn."

"...Theoretically speaking, you have the same 'mother' don't you?"

"No clue. One second it's just me; the next, there's this blond kid biting at my ankles. God can play some pretty cruel jokes on a guy, you know..."

"Well, grazie. I guess I'll talk to you later."

"Ja, see you, gorgeous. Send West my regards."

"I will," he laughed, and then he hung up, depositing his cell phone on the corner of their little coffee table. He stared at it for a moment and mulled over what Gilbert had told him, but other than the fact that Feliciano wasn't the only one being hounded down by the Brit, he really couldn't make heads or tails of it. Undoubtedly, a visit with America was in order, but he hadn't the slightest idea how he was going to bring up the subject with Alfred without setting off his alarms (or worse).

Ludwig murmured something and shifted on the bed. Feliciano took a second to collect himself and then sauntered over to bed, watching as Ludwig uncovered his eyes to lie his gaze squarely on Feliciano's tanned legs.

"Anything wrong?" Ludwig asked as Feliciano crawled under the covers to join him. Tugging the Italian closer, he leaned over Feliciano to kiss his neck, nibbling at the junction between his jaw and throat before moving downward.

"My friend saw something strange. I'm just worried about him."

Ludwig hummed thoughtfully in agreement but continued kissing, trailing his lips lower until he was eyelevel with Feliciano's collarbone. Then he glanced up at the Italian, eyes dark, as his tongue darted out to give him a brief livk. "Are you tired, Liebling?"

"No," he breathed. "Not at all..."

"Good."

Ludwig ducked his head under the covers.

They were late for the next meeting by twenty minutes.

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A/N: Wow, I'm so tired right now. Feel free to blast me for anything, because I'm not entirely sure I'm reading this right.

Translations:

"Hurensohn" ~ 'son of a b****' (German)

"Liebling" ~ a term of endearment; i.e. 'darling', 'favourite', 'pet', etc. (German)

Fun Facts:

1) "Gilbert was not an early riser by nature. The only time Feliciano could recall seeing the man fully conscious before ten a.m. on a weekday was during the war..." ~I can't, for the life of me, picture him as an early riser. Some people have even told me he's probably not even sober by noon, but that's debateable...

2) "'Awesomest nation being in the WORLD' " ~even if he's aware that he's not exactly a nation anymore, I can't imagine Prussia settling for anything less than the best. Hence, he's edited his plaque to squeeze in the next best thing since his dissolution.

3) "Anyhow, I had to call Francis to figure out how to get into his hidden passage at the Buck House, but I think I caught up with them in time to catch the important part..." ~two things here: First, 'Buck House' is actually what Buckingham Palace is referred to colloquially sometimes, and I imagine Arthur might stay here every once in a while since it's considered the primary residence of the British Monarchy. Truth be told, I figure he probably has his own flat somewhere in London (because, honestly, I can't imagine Matthew hanging around 24 Sussex Drive all the time in Ottawa, so why should Iggy be limited in his locales?), but I don't see why he can't stay over if he wanted to. And second, yes, I imagine France would've created/found a way to sneak into Arthur's bedroom unnoticed (especially by Arthur himself) over the years. I'll leave the details of Prussia's voyeurism, however, to your imagination...