Alrighty, this is my first fanfic, so please don't go too hard on me!

This will be very adult in the next few chapters, so I'm rating it M now.

There are many different pairings going on throughout the entirety of the series, but a few of the main ones are; USUK, FruCan, Germancest, GerIta, forced RusUK, among others.

Most of this will be told following Arthur, but at certain points it will switch to other characters.

This initially started as a roleplay between my friend and I, so there may be a few odd…OOC spots.

And for those of you who wonder, yes Iggy-kins will be on bottom…in all the different sexual play. Because I am a die-hard Arthur fangirl and the thought of him all adorable and red is much more appealing to me than him being dominant. I do hope I capture the personalities well, and that those of you who lose a loved character can forgive me.

Please rate and review~ And if there is a pairing you really want to come into play, I can see what I can do without going too far from the storyline.

As per the usual, I do not own any part of APH, as much as I wish I did.

oOo

It had all started out as a typical afternoon for Arthur Kirkland, a.k.a. the personification of the glorious country of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. He had been reading one of his many Sherlock Holmes stories, one that he had not read in a long time, giving him the pleasure of forgetting the true killer. In the corner of his blissful study, however, was the annoying hum of a computer. His old protégé had forced it on him a few years earlier, making comments like "It gets you the information waaaaay faster than your newspapers!" and "Only old people don't have at least one!"

In an attempt to stop a further massacre of his language (and eardrums since the idiot had been nearly screaming into his face that entire time) he had accepted the gift as graciously as a gentleman of his stature could and then promptly kicked the prat off of his premises.

Although the Englishman would never admit it, he had found the device quite useful and had turned it on about an hour earlier to check the state of affairs in the rest of the world (as well as to "chat" with new acquaintances he had made on one ), but he had forgotten about it while cleaning up the study and finding one of his many misplaced (not lost, he never lost anything) books.

But now the noise was beginning to grate on his nerves and was about to get up and turn it off, much preferring a quiet day of reading at the moment, when said former protégé came charging through the door.

"Alfred, how many times must I remind you that it is common courteous to knock before entering a room, let alone a house?" By now, Arthur had placed his book on the table beside him, making sure he remembered where it was later on, and was walking over towards the blue-eyed man before him.

"Artie! You're alright! I'm so glad; I was so worried he had gotten you by now!" The personification of The United States of America, commonly called Alfred F. Jones by associates, sighed in relief at the sight of the man before him.

"Alfred? Who are you talking about? And furthermore-!" Arthur was about to reprimand Alfred about his appearance when he noticed a dark crimson that was staining the American's white tee-shirt, forcing it to cling to his skin.

The injured nation chuckled ever so slightly at the reaction, smiling grimly at the older man. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine, I am the hero, ya know?" In one bold stride he was standing just before the emerald eyed country. "I can handle whatever happens to me…but I wanted you to know something."

Arthur's eyes widened when he saw how injured his ex-colony was. His nose was beginning to turn a dark shade of purple, one eye looked like it was straining to keep open, and there was a long gash along his right cheekbone. He shuddered to think of the other pains Alfred may have been hiding. "Wh-Who?" His voice a whisper now, too shocked to even compute the blonde's last comment.

Pulling his former mentor into a hug, Alfred shook slightly, tears dangerously close to fall from his azure pools. "It doesn't matter who did this, Artie."

Anger and sorrow were battling for control of the dirty blonde who shook his head in frustration. "What the bloody hell do you mean by that? Of course it matters! We need to pay back the arse that did this to-!"

Before finishing the sentence, Arthur was pulled into a deep kiss by the deeply hurt country. After about half a minute Alfred pulled his mouth away, wiping it on his sleeve. "Arthur, I love you. I love you with my entire being; you mean the world to me. I-I don't know how I could go on living if something happened to you…so I'm asking you this, asking for myself, but also for your own safety. Please…go to Canada, ask Mattie if you can stay with him. Do not, I repeat, do not come after me. Don't do anything stupid, please…I'm begging you…"

It was taking all of Arthur's energy to listen to Alfred, to comprehend what he was saying. He, Alfred said he loved him. After years of yearning, hoping the feelings could be reciprocated Alfred finally says those three magic words…but this was wrong, all wrong! Alfred wasn't supposed to be leaving him, bleeding, looking half-dead.

Instinctively, he grabbed hold of Alfred's jacket sleeve, that idiotic bomber jacket that he refused to stop wearing, even though all they did was remind him of that accursed Second World War. "Why?" His voice came out strong, even though inside he was shaking.

"Because, you should be safe there." The reply was just as strong-willed.

"Safe from what?"

"From the enemy."

"Who is the enemy? Are they the ones who tore you to shreds like this? Dammit Alfred! Answer me!" The tall blonde had shifted his gaze to above Arthur's shoulder. It did not stop him from glowering at him though.

"If…If I tell you who, then will you promise to go stay with Mattie? To go there and stay put until you get others?" Their eyes were meeting once more, sorrow filling one pair, anger the other.

There was a span of a few seconds before the reply came, resigned, obviously upset, but curious about the truth. "Yes."

"It was Ivan."