Ahaha... I might regret posting this.

Hey, an Attack on Titan/Hetalia crossover in 2020?! Could it be?!

Alas, it is not so! I wrote this four years ago in a notebook, wrote an estimated 50k-60k words, and then forgot about it. And it is a shame, because I liked the storyline and put over a year of work into it. So when I found this while deep-cleaning my room (thank you quarantine!), I started typing it up for my progeny, because this is definitely what they should see.

So yeah. The chapters might be a little off because I wrote it years ago, but I think it's pretty good still and hope you like it! Please read&review!

The room was cold and dark, bare stone walls sucking all of the scarce heat and light into its core. There were no windows, and a single, heavily fortified wooden door stood In the center of one of the walls.

Suddenly, the door opened, unoiled hinges creaking in the freezing air. A single person, rather short, at 5'4, and with a slim figure stepped into the empty room. They were covered in a loose black cloak, obscuring all other features of the personage. They held a single raw candle, which did little to light the stone walls. A bag was slung over their shoulder.

The cloaked person looked over the room briefly, then closed the door behind them and walked to the center of the room. Now in a better position to light the room, his candle illuminated strange markings chalked onto the floor.

The design's perimeter outlined a simple circle, but upon closer inspection, showed the opposite. What at first seemed to be a solid circle a couple meters across revealed that the circle was full of a much more intricate design. Swirls, lines, and dots flowed together in harmony, fitting together perfectly inside the circle. Also prominent were two rings inside of the circle, creating a blank space in the middle of the circle, making it look more like a ring.

The figure walked around the circle with a practiced ease, sweeping the room with a thorough gaze. Looking satisfied, the person visibly relaxed, shoulders dropping. They reached up, and with one swift motion, pulled back their hood.

A boy of fifteen, with sky-blue eyes, sighed as he knelt on the floor, setting down his candle and taking off his bag. Shaggy blond hair fell in front of monstrously thick eyebrows. He sported a small scar on his left cheek, a small nick near his ear. His eyes, though, sparkled with a wisdom that went far beyond his young age. Opening his bag, the boy shuffled through its contents before pulling out a used old notebook and a stub of chalk before closing it again. The boy flipped open the notebook, turning the pages until he stopped at a page near the back, full of scribbled notes and sketched diagrams.

After consulting the notebook for several moments, the blond teen grabbed the chalk and started adding even more designs to the circle, occasionally rubbing off an addition after glancing at his notebook again. This continued for around a quarter of an hour, the teen continuing to work with a diligence unusual to that of his age. The silence was only broken once when he accidentally erased a line already in its correct position, eliciting a storm of curse words.

After a time, the door's mechanisms sounded again, and the teen jumped, hand brushing past his cloak to finger an old nineteenth-century styled pistol strapped to his thigh.

The wooden door cracked open, and two men strode inside, both wearing uniforms. The first was a Spanish man at around 5'10, with thick wavy blond hair and piercing hazel eyes. He wore an open brown jacket with a white button-up shirt underneath. White pants matched the color of the shirt, with black boots that reached his knees. Emblazoned on his jacket was the insignia of two criss-crossing wings—one white, one navy blue.

The other man was shorter than his companion, at 5'7. He had reddish-brown hair with a lone curl sticking out of the side. He wore the same uniform as the Spaniard, except that his shirt was green. He gave off a distinct Italian air.

The blond teen relaxed upon recognizing the men, and stood, removing his hand from his gun.

"You're late," he scolded sharply. "You gave me quite a scare when you didn't arrive on time, I thought the MPs had caught you for sure."

"Sorry, Peter," the Italian responded sheepishly, waving his hands in a surrendering motion. "Commander Pikale kept us in late; he needed some help with the new recruits."

"Whatever," Peter shrugged as he walked to meet the pair, careful not to step on his circle. "Where's Gilbert and Lilli?"

"I don't know?" The Italian responded. "Honestly, knowing Gilbert, he's probably got them caught by now."

"You know he wouldn't do that," the Spaniard responded. "Gilbert's one of my oldest and closest friends, can't you trust him like I do? Besides, Lilli wouldn't let him get into trouble either way."

As if on cue, the door opened once more, and the trio's heads snapped up as two more people entered the room. The first was a woman. The smallest person in the room at 5'2, she was surprisingly intimidating despite her stature, with coarse, chin-length blonde hair and pure blue eyes. She wore a long-sleeved black dress and white boots, and looked to be in her early twenties.

The second man was an albino, with silver-white hair and blood-red eyes. He was definity the most casually dressed in the room, wearing a black vest over a white polo and tan slacks. At 6'0, he was the tallest, and held a wide grin on his face.

"Hey~!" the albino announced arrogantly. "The awesome me has finally arrived!"

"Shut up, Gilbert," Peter and the woman snapped in unison. Gilbert rolled his eyes in response.

"You guys are so unawesome," he muttered. Ignoring the man, the woman, Lilli, turned to the other three men.

"Sorry we're late," she apologised. "So, can you really do this, Peter?"

All eyes turned on the youngest in the room, who shifted but answered confidently.

"Yes. I've been researching this for almost three decades now. It has to work. It will go correctly."

"So you can do it," the Italian, Feliciano, remarked, phrasing it more like a statement than a question. "Maybe now we have hope."

Peter nodded.

"So, the only question is who's going," Lilli announced, looking around the room. "You're the oldest out of the five of us, Antonio. What do you think?"

The Spaniard, Antonio, thought of a moment, then answered: "Definitely you, Lilli; we all know your… talents. And Peter doesn't even need to be debated. And then, one of us three." He turned to Gilbert and Feliciano.

The albino stepped forwards, puffing out his chest. "Then I'll go!" He announced confidently. "This team is in need of my awesomeness!"

"No," Lilli stated firmly, almost burning off Gilbert's hair with a well-placed glare.

"We need someone who can mediate the situation," Antonio cut in placingately, giving Lilli a stern look. "And anyways, Gilbert, you… stand out… in a crowd. One look at you and any of the other nations will either become suspicious or think you're Prussia. And—" he cut off Gilbert as he opened his mouth to protest. "Remember your situation with the Military Police. It's precarious as it is. We need you here."

The albino looked like he was going to insist on coming anyways, but then the rebellious light died in his eyes, and Gilbert nearly put his head in one hand and sighed, suddenly looking very vulnerable and depressed, a complete opposite of his earlier attitude.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't be letting my personal opinions get in the way of things."

Lilli looked at Gilbert in surprise. Obviously, this reaction had been unexpected from him.

"We should be the ones apologizing," Feliciano finally spoke up after a few awkward moments. The Italian walked up and grabbed Gilbert's forearm in a gesture of shared grief. "I know we both wanted to see your brother again. But," he took a shaky breath, seeming to make a tough decision, and let go of the albino's arm and turned to Antonio. "You should be the one to go."

The Spanish man looked up in surprise.

"What?" He exclaimed. "But I—"

"Am perfect for the job," Peter interrupted, stepping forwards. The flickering candlelight gave him an eerie look. "Think about it, Antonio. As you stated earlier, Gilbert can't go without the risk of getting caught, and no offense, Feliciano—"

"It's fine. I know my weaknesses."

"But there is little chance he could keep his composure around Romano, Italy, Germany—anyone, really."

"But what about Spain?" Antonio protested, starting to look almost desperate.

"Your appearance can always be changed," Peter shrugged. "And your experience with thugs and the black market will be invaluable to us."

Antonio sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Fine," he relented. "What do we need to do?"

Peter's eyes flashed in momentary triumph, knowing he had won, before the teen turned around to pick up his notebook.

"Stand in the middle of the circle," he commanded with a spark of anticipation, before adding: "And don't you dare touch my lines! We need them to be in perfect position for this to work."

Stepping forwards, Antonio studied the circle and it's center for a moment, where there was a small patch of bare ground. Smirking to himself, he took a few steps back before racing forwards and leaping into the air, landing perfectly in the center.

"You are such a show-off," Lilli muttered, who was left to weave through the lines of the circle on her own. "Stupid military training."

After the teen made her way into the center (thankfully not ruining any of the lines), Peter nodded to Feliciano and Gilbert, who were now standing off to the side, near a wall, and copied Antonio's stunt, landing with only a slight stumble.

"Good luck!" Feliciano called, voice trembling only slightly to betray his nervousness. Gilbert gave a half-hearted salute, which only Antonio returned, nostalgia brimming in his eyes as the two old friends remembered a time long past.

Clearing his throat, Peter stepped in between Antonio and Lilli, and flipping his notebook to a different page, began to chant in a foreign language. After several seconds of anxious waiting, the blonde teen stretched forth one hand to the circle at a 45 degree angle, the other still holding his notebook firmly. The lines in the circle begin to glow and eerie gray, light beginning to peek through the lines and swirls that decorated the rune circle. A slight breeze picked up, despite there being no windows to open.

Then, suddenly, the light exploded from light gray to white, nearly blinding the occupants of the room. The breeze picked up into a full-fledged wind, circulating around Lilli, Antonio, and Peter. Feliciano and Gilbert were suddenly hard-pressed to keep their balance against the abrupt gale.

"Peter!" Lily screamed over the wind, hair whipping into her face. "This isn't part of the plan!"

"This isn't supposed to happen!" The teenager shot back, switching to English only momentarily before returning to his chants, obviously trying to remedy his mistake. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he concentrated on trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

Antonio swore briefly in his native language and gritted his teeth, raising an arm to steady Lilli. The Spaniard looked in worry at little Feliciano, who was now holding on to Gilbert's arm, trying to stay upright.

Cracks shot through the walls, and the building groaned under the pressure. It wouldn't be able to stand up against much more punishment.

With an avalanche of swear words in multiple languages, Peter stopped his chanting, cloak whipping around his body. He had given up.

"It's no use!" Gilbert shouted, eyes wide. "Turn it off, Peter! Forget getting caught, the whole building is about to come down on us!"

"I can't!" said teen replied, beginning to panic. "The spell's gone haywire!"

"Hurry!" Antonio cried out, stepping into the wind, towards Gilbert and Feliciano. "We need to stay together!"

Circle discarded, the two teenagers followed their elder's lead wordlessly. The cracks in the walls spread, chunks of rock now starting to fall from the ceiling. Antonio, Peter, and Lilli finally made it to Gilbert and Feliciano. The group of five huddled together, even as the support beams started to come down.

Suddenly, Peter's eyes snapped open in remembrance, and he stretched out his hands towards the collapsing ceiling. Right as the building came down on top of them, he desperately screamed out one word, and the rocks stopped falling.

It was over, though, and the five knew it.

Their last resort had failed.