Author's Note: We know that there's other stories that share similarities, yet this is a vastly different, darker story. We don't own Hetalia. Please enjoy.

It was suppose to be like any other day. The sun hid behind thin, grey clouds and hung over a large, Victorian styled estate looming over the English country side. The home was made up of cracked, stone bricks and had thick vines climbing up the walls that spread out and seemed to grab the sides and corners to keep it together. The large front doors were a bit crooked and were slightly ajar. Bordering the house and covering the landscape was an array of colorful wild flowers, overshadowing the long forgotten garden beds that, perhaps, once held trimmed and groomed greenery one would be proud of. Scattered about where variations of fountains, garden ornaments and cobblestone walkways weaving through out the wild beauty of the landscape. The windows were musty and reflected the sun's light, making it difficult to see beyond the glass. The inside of the house mirrored the outside in its lovely pale, pastel colored walls and the knick-knacks that lay about vicariously. The estate itself was strangely welcoming, and charming in its out-of-order manner, yet oddly enough it was completely isolated. No birds sang and the wind barely whispered over the land. This lonely manner had no neighbors in about a hundred acres in each direction. At first look, it would be a hauntingly wonderful house to live next to. And its owner was charming as well upon first impression.

"Miss Lucy had some leeches,
Her leeches liked to suck~"

Of course, that was only by first impression.

"And when they drank up all her blood,
She didn't give a ~" An eerie, boisterous laugh erupted from lord of the manner as he moved around the kitchen of his English estate. The bright baby blue walls matched not only his signature blue tie, but his wide, mad happy eyes. The man singing stood in a tiled kitchen; flour powdered said blue walls and mixed with a strange red and pink color. Red stained his apron and white spots covered his freckled face.
"Funny when the doctors,
Had locked her in her cell~"
His light pink sleeves were rolled up and dusted with flour as he continued to mix the cupcake batter. His lavender vest not spared from the mess of the ingredients as his continued to sing his happy little tune.
"Miss Lucy screamed all night that they
Should go to bloody~" Another loud laugh erupted from the English man as he set the bowl down. His grin was ever present as he began to search the cabinets, continuing to whistle the rather dark take on the beloved nursery rhyme. Lithe fingers traced over the various bottles and containers of spices, and stopped short when they fell on an empty spot.

The whistling stopped…and was replaced by nervous, constant giggling. The Cheshire grin still plastered on his face as his hands desperately began digging through the cabinets. The whistling becoming more labored, his mischievous grin forced to be in place. His hands hesitated for a split second before they were frantic, eyes twitching as the key ingredient to his most infamous cupcakes refused to present itself. "Now, now, where did you go off to?"
"England, what're you doing?" The chipper, small voice caused the platinum blond to twirl around, his body slightly twitching, his giggling maddening as he approached the floating creature only a few feet away from him. It looked like a wild hare, with brown fur and yellow eyes. It had ruffled brown wings that lightly fluttered to keep its place in mid-air. Its toothy smile aimed at the man as it snickered.

"Flying Chocolate Bunny!" His voice frantic, his thick blonde eyebrows raised, making his mad eyes bigger, "I'm making cupcakes for dear Alfie~!" His eyes frantically continued to search the kitchen, the panicked giggling never ceasing, escalating by the second, "Have you seen the-I need the-the-!"

"England, I think we ran out," Flying Chocolate Bunny said matter-of-factly, not at all phased at Arthur's sudden halt in actions, the slow, dark aura seeping from him.
"We're…out…" Silence, the dark aura brewing around him, "We can't be out. I want to give these to my Alfie. I have to." The cat like smile grew on his face despite the anger brewing from the absence of the precious ingredient. His voice escalating once again, "They are special, they are-"
"I think I know where to get more, England~" Flying Chocolate Bunny cooed mischievously to the mad Brit. The dark aura disappearing immediately, his smile now overly genuine and soft as England bounced back to his most sincere of friends.
"Oh, do show me where~!"
"Follow me." Flying Chocolate Bunny said coaxing Arthur away from the thrashed kitchen. England untied the ruined apron, tossed it on the counter next to the suspicious batter, and followed the mythical being out and through the hallway. The pictures on the walls of the hallway were cracked or smeared to the point of no recognition. If he took the time to stare at some of the pictures, he could see the people in them and how happy they were. But that was a long time ago, and England was too excited about getting the special ingredient, so he paid no attention to them as Flying Chocolate Bunny hovered to a wooden door.

England cocked his head to the side, his eyes curious and his smile still small and soft. "The basement? Oh my, what ever could be there? I'm sure I don't store any of my magic spices in there!"

Flying Chocolate Bunny just grinned and waited patiently for the country to grab the brass door knob. England just stared at his friend, watching those beady yellow eyes. "You know, if this is another trick, I will have to rip off your wings~" It wouldn't be the first time Flying Chocolate Bunny took a joke too far.

The creature never broke eye contact when he fazed through the door. England snickered to himself, his curiosity getting the best of him, and opened the basement. He descended down the wooden stairs and ignored the musty smell. Boxes untouched, books of spells and rituals scattered and stacked everywhere, the ground covered in candle wax and stains of dried blood littered the floor. Various artifacts from the mad country's past where there as well. The eerie tune found its way to England's lips again, the whistling being the only companion to the silence of the cold damp space. It has been a long time since he was last down here.
They weren't down there for too long until Flying Chocolate Bunny stopped in front of a large, sheet covered mass.
"Oh, silly Flying Chocolate Bunny~!" Arthur laughed full heartedly, "This isn't where I keep the cupcake ingredients~!"
"No it isn't, "The deep brown colored creature pulled away the fabric to reveal a large mirror, "But you do remember what this is, don't you? "
It took England a few moments of studying the object before he perked up, "Why, this is Alice's looking glass!" More giggles spilled out of him, "Now, why would you show me this?" A mischievous glint reflecting the one of his odd companion, "You know Wonderland has been closed off to us for quite a while. What are you up to, hmm~?" England's thoughts already plotting fun ways of punishing his devilish friend for misleading him, again.

"To Wonderland, yes." Flying Chocolate Bunny's expression never wavered, despite the all too familiar looks England was giving him, "But looking glasses like these have funny ways of redirecting their attentions, perhaps those on the other side may have what you're looking for," The devious hare's voice seducing the country with the promises of a new playground that was just beckoning him. The blonde's head bent to the side, grinning ear to ear, a new excitement enticing him.

"It's all on the other side, just walk through. Same as last time," Flying Chocolate Bunny's smile was impossibly wide, "I'd go myself, but I think only humans can go through."
The baby blued eyed blond didn't need anymore of an invitation, excitedly he leapt through the mirror, easily passing through; more excited about where it lead to than the prospect of completing his special cupcakes for his dear Alfie. He closed his eyes and stepped into the mirror.

It felt as if he walked through nothing but thin air. England took in a breath and didn't open his eyes until he felt his feet walk on a solid ground. He opened his eyes and was puzzled. It looked just like his basement, only it looked like he spun around to stare at it. He giggled, "Oh, Flying Chocolate Bunny, what did I say about tri-" He turned to where the creature was just a moment ago, only to find it missing. England's grin grew wider and his eyes narrowed slightly. "Oh, playing hide and seek now?" He walked over to an open box and rummaged through its contents. He pulled a steak knife and his smile faltered slightly. He shrugged, 'This will have to do for now.' He chuckled darkly as he ascended the stairs, looking forward to finding his trickster friend. He really should know better than to prank him.

He opened the door to the first floor. "Flying Chocolate Bunny, there is no-" He stopped.

This... was different.

His pale pastel walls of brilliant colors were now a simple dull, light green. On the walls were pictures of country sides and cottages. The floors looked polished and long rugs covered them, compared to what it was just a minute ago. England stepped forward, forgetting about his delightful friend and all the fun he was going to have, and walked into his living room. Or, what was his living room. Instead of his plush couches and lacy furniture, there sat two brown leather couches facing each other in front of his fireplace, which held only a few pictures and some vases. There were also green curtains, which surprised England, for he loved the sunshine and wouldn't dare put up anything that would make him feel shut out. He wanted to be inviting! How was he supposed to make new "friends" like that? He was very confused. 'This is peculiar indeed...' He broke out into his maddening grin again.

"This is most certainly interesting! I wonder what this place is~" He reached out to grab the picture frame closest to him. He brought it up to his face and stared. The man in the picture looked somewhat like himself, only there were a few differences. This man had blonde hair, vivid green eyes, and had a straight face. England brought his knife up to the picture. "Goodness, chap, you look almost like me! Here, you need a smile on that old mug of yours!" He brought down the knife and scratched the glass frame. The screeching sound from the act made his grin grow even more as his eyes twitched in pain as his grip tightened on the picture. "There we go, old chap! If you want to look like me, you have to be perfect!" He laughed to himself and dropped the picture, the glass cracked as it made contact with the floor.

England looked around the house, tossing the cushions around, opening drawers and throwing them across the room, and pushing tables out trying to find something interesting to do. When he made a complete mess of the place, he perked up. "That is right! Alfie's cupcakes!"

He got up from a pillow he was cutting up with his knife and walked back into the hallway. He approached the door directly opposite of him and opened to a clean tile kitchen. Everything was neat and in place, no wonderful colors to play with his eyes, and not nearly as many tools lying around. Arthur wandered in and immediately rummaged through all the cabinets. He tossed out the pots and pans that were in the way that clanged to the floor. He found a bag of flour, opening it with his hands, and searched in the white powder. He licked his finger, dipped it in the flour, pulled it out, and brought it to his lips. He stared at the bag before tossing it behind his shoulder, the flour dusting the kitchen counter and floor. He opened some drawers above his head, finding spices and extracts. He repeated the process he did with the bag of flour and with anything he could grab. Take, taste, toss. Take, taste, toss. Broken bottles, thick syrups, and colored dusts littered the kitchen, each time he tasted England was getting impatient. He frantically reached for other bottles, but he stopped.

The sound of a door shutting reached his ears.

Someone was home.

England relaxed a little. "My, my, could this be the fellow from the picture?" He asked himself as he picked up the knife, that he left lying on the counter during his frenzy, and hid it behind his back.

"What the bloody Hell?"

"This will be fun~"

He tip-toed out of the kitchen and peeked through the door frame. Sure enough, from what he could see, it was the same man from the picture. The same man whom he graced with a smile. Pity this man didn't have his smile still. He looked angry, eyebrows furrowed and mouth turned to a scowl. Maybe England could change it again? More permanently.

England's eyes narrowed and his smile reached to his ears as he crept behind the flustered man."What the Hell happened in here! This is a load of bullocks! France, I swear to God, if you're in my house trashing my things, you better own up to it, you frog!" The look alike grumbled and shouted.

England stopped. "Oh, you know France? How delightful~!" He couldn't stop giggling. "What else have you copied from me?"

The man turned around, and was in shock. He stared at England for what seemed like forever to England. "Wh-Who are you! And what are you doing in my house!"

"So this is your house! How wonderful~" England stepped closer. The other man stood his ground. "Tell me, do you enjoy mocking me? You don't even look like me."

The man furrowed his brow and tilted his head. "What are you talking about?" He looked England up and down. "You're the one with the horrendous clothing!" He looked around the living room. "Are you telling me you're the one who did this?"

England pulled out his knife. The man's surprise was enough of a window to allow England to push him against the wall. He pressed up against him, one hand held his wrists to the man's chest, the other holding the knife close to his throat. "Now, now, old chap," The calm voice betrayed those maddening blue eyes. "Why don't you tell me who you are, or I'll slit that thick throat of yours and carve you're face off. Maybe that will teach you to try and mimic someone like me, you twat."

The man swallowed and glared. His eyes looked down at the blade, then back into that pale face with that damn grin. "I-I'm Arthur Kirkland... Also known as England..."

England broke out into a fit of laughter. "Oh that is funny! Silly, I'm England!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "No you aren't. I am!"

"No. Me~"

"It's me, you crazy bastard!"

"I don't think so~"

"Like bloody Hell! Just look at you!"

England removed the threatening knife and threw Arthur down onto the floor. The blonde man winced at the force that was put on his back, and then grunted as he felt weight on his abdomen. England climbed on top of him, knife held up and his face dark as ever. His sneer was piercing Arthur as sharp as the weapon he held. "I am England, and you sir, are about to be a forgotten corpse found in the English Channel, with your eyes plucked out and your intestines wrapped around your neck. Now, be a good lad, and tell me where I am and who are you. I am not the most patient person~"

Arthur struggled. "You loon! I. Am. England! Unhand me this instant!"

The blonde above wondered for a bit. This man was persistent. He couldn't have been England. He was England! And if he was an impostor he did a horrible job at doing it. He kneed the man below him in the side to make him stop squirming so he could think. Arthur's words and insults fell on deaf ears as he pondered and pondered. 'Let's rethink all of this now, shall we? I followed that irritable rodent to my basement, where he showed me a mirror. I stepped through it, and I ended up here. I met with this man, who, despite not really acting like me, does hold some resemblance. Could it be that... That this is another me? Hmm… It's not impossible. I've had many adventures like this, and every time no one else believes me. They all think I had a taste of my delicious cupcakes and made it all up, but silly them! I would never do that. Hmm... It could be...Maybe…'

"...I said GET OFF!"

England got up and moved away from Arthur. The man was stunned, but he pushed himself up and glared at him. "Are you mental? What the Hell is your problem!"

"I need time to think."

"What?"

England used the blunt end of the knife to bash Arthur's head, knocking him out cold. "None of your concern, old chap~ I need to go back home. Alfie's cupcakes can wait." He stared at the body, and tsked. "You are no fun at all. You're lucky I don't kill you now." He chuckled. "But I can always come back for that~"

He left the living room and entered the basement. He padded down the steps and stared at the mirror. 'Yes, perhaps this is a new world after all...' His grin grew dark as he phased into the mirror, "This proves to be... quite interesting." His voice overflowed with utter glee," I can't wait to tell the others~!"