This excerpt is from the scene where England and Wehrmacht fight at Ireland's house. The actual version has them crash down the stairs, but in this version, Wales jumps in the middle to stop them. 

Things to keep in mind: this is after Wehrmacht finds Ireland in the cemetery. Ireland is currently sick in bed and still somewhat mad at Wehrmacht.

This scene DOES NOT appear in the actual storyline.

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Wales jumped out of bed and NI tried to stop him but the Welsh country dove straight into the brawl, worming in between the two fighters and praying they wouldn't hit him.

They didn't.

England had been rearing back for a punch but froze when Wales got in the way. His first thought was that Wales would get hit by Wehrmacht's incoming blow, but the German stopped too in surprise.

They backed away from each other, neither wanting to accidentally hurt Wales.

When England saw Wehrmacht back off, he reached forward and yanked Wales towards himself.

"What in the Queen's name are you thinking?" England demanded, holding Wales's shoulders tightly.

"Stop fighting!" Wales shouted, squirming away. "No fighting allowed! Father, you always tell us to be gentlemen in every situation, and starting fights is the exact opposite! And Wehr!"

Wales turned to the German, who looked a bit startled.

"No fighting other countries on Ireland's territory, remember?"

Wehrmacht held up his hands in surrender. "Self-defense. Couldn't help it." He pointed at England. "His fault." Then he muttered under his breath, "Why do I always get blamed for everything?"

England was thoroughly perplexed. Wales just scolded Wehrmacht. Scolded.

"I guess your presence invites trouble," NI said plainly to Wehrmacht.

"Well, Es tut mir leid for intruding on your tea party," Wehrmacht growled. "But in case you haven't noticed, you woke me up from my beauty sleep, invited the father of all teafuckers, and now I'm grumpy and need somebody to vent to."

"Ireland," NI and Wales both suggested at the same time.

"Christ," Wehrmacht grumbled. "Fuck it. I'll vent to the harp."

"Someone," breathed England, "explain to me this instant what the bloody hell is going on. Was there a truce I wasn't aware of?"

"Something like that." NI shrugged. "Only valid in Ireland, though."

"Why?" asked England.

NI and Wales both turned to Wehrmacht, who had attempted to sneak away and now looked instantly uncomfortable.

"Was?" (What) His German tongue was slipping. "Don't look at mich (me). Ireland made the deal."

"Explain," England said curtly.

"Ireland. Made. The deal." Wehrmacht glowered at England. "I don't need to explain myself to you. Ask Ireland." Then he paused and narrowed his eyes at England. "Should be easy. He's your son after all, I'm sure you two have a...solid...relationship."

England stiffened. There was a lot of meaning behind Wehrmacht's words. England still felt the weight of history on his shoulders—history with Ireland that he tried hard to forget.

Worry began to creep into his mind. He wasn't exactly on the best terms with Ireland. Hell, even Wehrmacht looked like he was on better terms with Ireland. And England knew he needed to be on his best behavior, considering he had come today to plead with his son.

"If you'll excuse me," Wehrmacht cleared his throat. "I'll be downstairs finishing the remaining ten minutes of my nap." He disappeared down the hall.

England let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"He hasn't hurt any of us," Wales said tentatively to his father. "All I know is that we're safe as long as we're here because Ireland is neutral."

England frowned at Wales, who immediately explained, "I know what you're thinking: Nazis don't care about neutrality. But Ireland saved Wehr's life, and so he owes him. Plus, I think he's really trying to change. He says he'll be nicer to Belgium and Netherlands and Norway and everyone else from now on."

England scoffed. "From now on? Does he think that atones for everything he's already done?"

Wales looked down. "No. He knows it doesn't. Father, please don't yell at him about it. He's already hurting—"

"What about me?" England whispered. "I'm hurting." He fumbled with his tattered uniform. "He's been hurting me since the start of this war. I won't forgive him that easily."

Wales gulped at the bitterness of his father's words. He hugged England's arm and squeezed his hand, hoping to comfort him. England squeezed back with a small smile.

"So why did you come here?" NI asked quietly. "You don't exactly visit Ireland all the time like we do."

England sighed. "Right. Let's go to Ireland's room."

The three of them shuffled further down the hall. Ireland's door was closed and Wales knocked softly on it.

"Come in," croaked Ireland.

Ireland was lying in bed with a glass of cool water. His eyelids were heavy and his head kept drooping. He stared tiredly at NI and Wales. Then he saw England.

"Am I...am I dreaming?" he muttered. He pointed at England. "Are you a hallucination?"

"No, it's really me." England stood awkwardly beside the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Ireland blinked at him. Then he looked away. "I wish you were a hallucination."

I wish I were too, England thought, shifting uncertainly. How was he supposed to say this? What if Ireland refused his pleas?

So be it, England thought sadly. He's right to despise me.

He took a deep breath. "Ireland, I just wanted to say that I, well, I hope you've been good and—"

"Cut to the chase," Ireland interrupted.

"I came to ask for your help."

All three sons looked at their father with wide eyes.

This is such horrible timing, England thought.

"America has agreed to send supplies to us, to help our war effort," he explained. "But he doesn't want to be pulled too far into this war, so to appease his wishes, Scotland and I thought that...maybe he could drop the supplies off at your place...so it doesn't look suspicious..." England trailed off at the glare Ireland sent him.

"But it would make me look suspicious," Ireland finished. "And drag me into this war."

"Please, son." England hated begging but he was desperate. "Those supplies are vital. I won't be able to hold what's left of my country if I don't get them, and then the Nazis will push into Scotland. Please. I understand if you won't do it for me, but at least do it for Scotland."

At the mention of his other dad, Ireland's gaze softened a little. Then he steeled himself.

"I can't," he said. "It would endanger my people and my land. Wehr has promised that as long as I remain neutral, he won't invade me. I can't jeopardize my neutrality."

"How can you put your safety in his hands?" England fumed. "You'd trust a German over your own father?"

"Any day," Ireland said without hesitation.

England's shoulders sank.

What was I expecting? He reprimanded himself. That Ireland would just happily agree after everything I've done to him? And even if I managed to persuade Ireland, IRA would never forgive me.

England turned with a sigh. "I'm sorry for wasting your time," he murmured. "I'll be out of your trouble."

He nearly crashed into Wehrmacht on his way out of Ireland's room.

"Watch it," England immediately snapped. This German had stolen his son's trust, had gotten to Ireland before England ever could. That was yet another battle lost.

"You watch it," Wehrmacht hissed. "Fucking dumbass, learn to cover your tracks."

England froze. "What are you talking about?"

"They're here. German troops, Prussia's fucking troops, are here."

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As you can see, this scene combines several scenes from the original story. There is no conversation between Wehrmacht and Ireland before Wehrmacht leaves, and when Prussia arrives, Wehrmacht is still in the house. That's really important because in the original version, Wehrmacht swoops in to block Prussia. 

If I were to go along with this version (which I actually did in later deleted scenes), LOTS of things would go differently, including the conversation between Prussia and Wehrmacht, and England's fate.

XD I'm just gonna keep posting deleted scenes while I'm on hiatus.

Stay tuned for the next part of this draft version!

~Love