AN: So a short one shot between longer stories, I had the idea and was talking to my friend about Hetalia and HetaOni earlier today. So I decided as I'm in the process of a few chapters I'd write this.

Insanity Is My Only Companion

England sits staring into space. He feels the loneliness seeping into his bones, the cold winter air felt sharp enough to cut his skin, wind feasley beating against his body as he stands on the cliff. The dark night sky dotted with speckles of stars, silver diamonds that seem to twinkle weakly tonight. Maybe they were no different to any other night but they seemed different.

England closes his eyes and allowed his mind to drift.

Centuries of death and destruction and failure plagued him. He had grown up alone, his only companion at times was France, who was not the best most times anyway. His older brothers despised him and nothing else much mattered to the child England, who just wanted to be loved. He first started seeing things others could not at a young age, and then when he was a little older black magic.

He turned to it because he did not know what else to do. How else to make those who hurt him pay.

Then he had become ambitious. Foolish. He went and claimed other places as his, with no consideration for their feelings. He molded America and Canada to an extent to care for him, to give him the family he wanted.

He became the original and most serious deadly sin.

Pride.

It was his, like many others from past times, downfall.

And the other sin that came hand in hand with it.

Avarice, a greed for power and control.

Sins cast long shadows, at least that is what he heard. His sins go long back and he wonders if that means his cast longer shadows than other.

Both of them caused such a shattering blow to him when it did. His world crumbled and he started to fall, his pride stopped him from accepting help and he found himself back to square one.

He had no family, no friends and was once again alone with nothing but his imagination and magic.

The magic was yet another of his downfalls. It brought him lower and turned his sanity on it's head. He started to have more vivid and violent dreams and visions.

He started to get shunned by other nations for his peoples decisions and he let them. He had no strength left to fight over it. To defend himself. Not everything he did was due to him wanting to do it. His will to make the decisions had crumbled along with his empire.

He stood by and allowed his people to make his decisions. Allowed whatever they wanted to happen happened, if they could pull it off of course.

Arthur opened his eyes and looked down at the blackness of the ocean below the cliff he stood on. He felt a tear run down his cheek. The fact he had started to argue in his head did not help. The voice in his head that was not his own had gotten louder and more aggressive. The black magic had caused it and he knew it was there to stay.

What? You going to jump?

Arthur flinched at the voice. It's tone was cold and hard, sharp like gravel under bare feet.

Go ahead, no one will miss you. After all who cares about a failure?

Arthur frowned, but said nothing, if he did he would end up agreeing with it.

Wait, let me guess. You are too scared. You can not do it. You still have too much pride and can not lose what you have left.

"I... I am not." Arthur murmurs to the night air.

Then do it. You never cared what others felt before, so why now, even if they do not care for you.

Arthur growled in the back of his throat. "I will."

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes Arthur stepped closer until he felt like the rock would collapse from under him. With one last tear and a sad yet serene smile he allowed himself to fall off the cliff.

As soon as his head hit the icy water the voice in the back of his head, laughing manically at him stopped. The dry, humorless laugh he let out was the last thing beside the rush of water that he heard.