Disclaimer: Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya.

This fiction will contain some characters in their female/alternate gendered forms, if you don' t like, please do not read. You have been warned :)

Music flowed like electricity through the air. The concert hall was packed with energized fans, pushing and shoving to be closer to the stage as the multicolored spotlights strobed through the crowd. Hands eagerly reached to the performers above, hoping to brush the coat hems of the band members as they made their way around the stage to the upbeat Euro pop.

Arthur Kirkland sighed, shook his head, and looked around at the lush room surrounding him. Plush seats, lined in rows of two; and a state-of-the-art sound system that insured that the sound was not obscured by the glass window for any of the entertainers to enjoy. Yes, Arthur was grateful to be alone in the Agency's private luxury box and far away from the overly zealous crowd; it was truly ironic. Though he was the lead singer and guitarist for his own band, he had such distaste for crowds that, had he not been in a band, he likely would have avoided concerts all together. He worshiped the music, but found the suffocatingly close company of others to be quite...barbaric.

"Ja!" a loud, obnoxious voice rang over the noise of the crowd. Arthur snapped to attention, having been so lost in the music that he had failed to realize that the song had ended. Down on the stage, the fair-haired band stood, waving as the albino presenter addressed the crowd. "Weren't they awesome?!" The crowd screamed in agreement, cheering and clapping wildly as the lead singer stepped forward.

"From the bottom of our hearts; thanks everyone, you've all been amazing!" The tall, blonde woman boomed, flashing a blindingly bright smile. Arthur smirked, Mathia hadn't changed a bit: she was still the loud-mouthed Dane he remembered; with her long, unruly hair and mischievous eyes.

As the crowd continued to roar, Gilbert smirked at the crowd, "Come now, everyone! The Awesome Me believes that the Queen of the North deserves more than that!" Incredibly, the crowd's cheers grew louder than before, urged by the albino's words. Arthur wrinkled his nose, although he did not care for the German, he begrudgingly respected his ability for hyping up an audience.

As Mathia and her band left the stage, a hush fell over the spectators as though every person in the audience were holding their breath. Arthur's heart began to pound and again he was thankful for the privacy he was afforded. It was time. "Ladies and gentlemen, the time has come to put your hands together and welcome the star of our show." Gilbert alluded. Arthur couldn't breathe. "She's been gone, touring around all fifty states, the territories, as well as Canada, but tonight she finally returns to The Big Apple. Everyone, please welcome the Pop Princess herself, Amelia F. Jones!"

And, suddenly, there she was, slowly walking from the shadows of backstage into the hot spotlight. The crowd went mad, screaming—no—shrieking louder than ever before, but Arthur could not hear them. The deafening noise could not reach him as he stared at the girl with the golden-wheat colored hair and eyes as big and blue as the sky itself. She had changed over the years—that was for certain. Her hair flowed to just past her waist, no longer cropped to just above her shoulders. Her style was flashier with more ruffles and glitter than before, though no doubt the producers and a certain Frenchman had played a part in her image change. What struck him most of all, however, was how…grown up she looked. Her body had lost the flat, parallel lines of youth and had adopted a more womanly curve, from her chest to her waist to her—ahem…well. . .

Arthur closed his eyes; she was no longer the little girl he had met all those years ago, the little girl whom he had immediately declared to be his "Little Sister." No, she was the girl whom had left him—err—his band, in favor of autonomy or, as she called it, "freedom".

Arthur felt the hot sting of emotion rising behind his closed lids. It was laughable. He was Arthur Kirkland of the punk band, Beasts of Britannia. In the magazines, he was always in the top 10 most eligible men lists—if not at the top himself. He was praised for his blond hair, green eyes, and punk style. He could win the heart of any girl; well, any girl, except one…

Glad that his brothers hadn't come with him to the luxury box, Arthur slid his sleeve over his eyes and took a breath before turning to gaze at the American once more. From behind the one-way glass, he could study her closely, more closely than he usually dared.

She wore sparkling, red boots that came to her thighs and a short dress patterned after a shimmering, black and red butterfly's wing, with black tulle filling out the skirt. The over-the-top look was completed with the costume makeup that made her face appear to be that of a living doll. Eyelids covered in glitter, false lashes fanning long and wide, lips as red as the cross of the Union Jack.

It was gaudy, over-the-top, extremely fake. He wanted to hate it, he wanted to slow his racing heart, he wanted to look away and scoff at the American's poor taste. Instead, he continued to stare, memorizing the arch of her lips; the curve of her jaw; her delicate features. She hadn't dressed for him, she probably hadn't given him a single passing thought when her stylists had dressed her, and normally he could criticize every aspect of her ensemble, down to the smallest stitch. But now he could only gaze, speechless.

"Hello, New York City!" Her bright, brash voice erupted over the crowd; once again the spectators erupted into a roar of delight. "I am so happy to be back in the NYC!" Amelia continued, her 1,000 watt smile electrifying the crowd. "Although I had a lot of fun on my 50 States and Beyond Tour, coming back to this place," she paused for a moment, waiting for the din to calm. "Returning to this place is like returning home! So, thank you all for taking time out of your weekend to join me in celebrating my homecoming! I promise; I'll do my best to entertain you this evening! Are y'all ready for a fun night?!" The crowd screamed as the anticipation doubled, tripled, and continued to grow. The pop star giggled her assent, "All right then! Hit it!"

The music started, a repetitive beat thrumming through the air and reverberating through the ground. Lights flashed and swept through the audience in a rainbow of color as unseen stagehands threw glow sticks into the crowd. Then, Amelia began to sing.

It was a frivolous song and held none of the depth that Arthur's songs did, but after all she was a pop star. Her songs were meant to be fun and breezy, something to dance to in a club. So, why did Arthur's chest feel tight after listening to her speak? And now, listening to her sing?

The door to the luxury box swung open carelessly and Arthur was pulled out of his thoughts. Voices filled the room before anyone noticed Arthur's presence.

"That was so much fun!" A cheerful male voice sang out.

"Eh, maybe, but it was hard to concentrate with Mathia bouncing around stage, acting a fool." A different, more tsundere voice remarked.

Turning, Arthur could see the Nordics filing into the previously quiet viewing box. First was Tino, the Finnish singer, followed by Arthur's friend Lukas, the ever-somber Norwegian. They were followed by the tall, Swede named Berwald, his half-sister Mathia, and Lukas' younger sister, Emilie.

"Are you saying that you couldn't take your eyes off of me, Lukas?" Mathia asked, teasingly tugging on the random curl located on the side of the Norwegian's hair.

Lukas flushed and swatted the blonde's hand away with an annoyed air. "No, I'm saying that as clumsy as you are, you need to be more mindful of what is around you. Your stupid heels almost kicked my drum set twice, annoying sister."

Mathia grinned, "Whateve-" she happened to glance Arthur's way and stopped, the banter dying in her throat and the smile slipping from her lips. Her sudden silence did not go unnoticed as the other four slowly turned and saw the Englishman staring back at them.

Tino was the first to recover, "Arthur! Is that really you?" The short blond ran over and gave Arthur a hug before continuing. "It seems like it's been AGES since you last came here, to the agency's headquarters, I mean…"

Yes, Arthur and his brothers were contracted to the same agency as the Nordics and Amelia, the "Beautiful World Talent Agency" or BWTA for short. It was an agency that collected and celebrated talent from across the globe. That being said, it did not house a plethora of performers—only the best of the best which made the agency feel small, like a family. Arthur had been deliberately avoiding this family. For four years, he had made every excuse to avoid holiday parties, birthdays, and group celebrations in general.

"Yes, been quite busy. My brothers and I just wrapped up a world tour a few weeks ago; I haven't had time to visit much." He said easily. It was the truth, the truth and a convenient way to avoid returning to headquarters for a number of years. But like all excuses, it too finally ran out. "I was actually summoned here to meet with the president." He added. Why did he feel the need to explain his sudden return to New York?

Berwald hummed thoughtfully but said nothing. Emilie merely stared at the Brit, though Arthur couldn't help but feel as though she were looking through him rather than at him.

"The President of the Agency?!" Tino gasped, seemingly in excitement. "It's not often that someone is called to a one-on-one meeting with him! How exciting! Isn't that right, Sve?"

Berwald glanced from Tino to Arthur before answering to the pet name, "Yes, it is."

"It's true, Artie," Mathia said, a small smile returning to her lips as she extended a hand to him. Arthur clasped her hand, deciding to overlook the annoying nickname for the moment. As she released his hand, she tilted her head and glanced out the window to the colorful pop concert taking place below. "And, if you can, make sure you see Amelia. I know that it would mean the world to her to see you."

Arthur couldn't protest fast enough, the words caught in his throat. He highly doubted that Amelia would want to see him; in fact he knew she wouldn't want to see him. She had made that agonizingly apparent four years ago. Reaching for his coat, Arthur made for a speedy retreat. "Ah, yes, well, I best be on my way! I wanted to change out of my traveling clothes before my meeting! Good night, all!"

A hand grabbed his wrist as he reached the doorknob. Ready to snap, he looked up and saw two uncharacteristically serious, blue eyes boring into his green ones. "Just…think about it," Mathia said, voice devoid of its usual good humor. The girl hesitated before continuing, "Just…trust me. She would be really happy to see you."

Lukas nodded silently, for once agreeing with Mathia.

Arthur sighed and then gently, but firmly, removed his hand from the other's grasp. "I really must be going." He murmured, not looking up to face his fellow musicians as he fled.

…

Sliding his hands over his ears, Arthur felt as though his head were about to burst. "Shut up," he growled to the musical hum currently invading his private room. It had been about an hour since he had fled the Nordics in the luxury box and yet the sounds of the American's concert gave no sign of slowing anytime soon.

Arthur glanced at the clock and sighed before pushing himself from his bed and walking over to his closet. It wasn't a surprise that he could hear HER concert, after all headquarters held both the concert hall and the artists' private living quarters—though in different wings. It was surprising that the music seemed so loud tonight. All of the bedrooms had been designed to muffle sound just for occasions like this, though it currently seemed as though the walls were instead constructed out of paper. Lovely.

Choosing a black leather jacket and boots to match, the Brit ran his hands through his rough locks before leaving for his meeting with the president. Closing the door behind him, Arthur couldn't help but listen to the music resonating through the halls, cutting him with every bass beat and pointless chorus.

The dull thud of his boots on the shined marble floor was satisfying, with every step he took, he found himself to be further and further from the bouncy pop music that so offended his ears. If he were to be completely honest to himself, Arthur was also a bit saddened as every step also led away from her. However, the stubborn rock star was rarely, if ever, honest when it came to the muddled feelings that he had for the Yank.

Foot after foot, he made his way. Why was it that when one wished to forget about something or to simply stop thinking about something, that thought is suddenly the only one that the brain cares to dwell upon? The thought angered him; this was why he hated returning to the States, it was like he had no choice but to think upon subjects that he would prefer to forget. The past, especially the painful, anger-riddled past, was the hardest to put behind you. Betrayal was no exception.

"Welcome, Mr. Kirkland," a deep voice murmured quietly, making Arthur jump.

Looking up, Arthur saw a tall man with long, blond hair regarding him with a single raised brow. Swiftly glancing about, Arthur realized that he was already in the reception area outside of the president's office, though he had been too engulfed in his thoughts to realize.

Noticing the German man's unrelenting stare, Arthur felt his ears grow hot as he found his voice. "Er—good evening, Vice-president Beilschmidt, I'm here to meet with President Vargas." It came out sounding almost like a question and he inwardly sighed. How this man was the father of that loudmouthed Gilbert, he could never fathom.

The blond nodded and gestured to a doorway to the right of his desk. "The president is running late tonight," Beilschmidt stated matter-of-factly, although Arthur would have sworn that he saw the stoic man's eyes roll in disdain. "You may wait in his office if you'd like," he said as he opened the door for the rock star. "Help yourself to whatever you'd like, there is a full bar behind his desk. I'll let you know as soon as I track him down."

"Er—thanks…" Arthur managed. Although he was not pleased at being forced to wait, he did feel a bit sorry for the president. By the look on the stern, vice-president's face, the president was going to get an earful whenever he did finally show up.

Walking into the room, Arthur didn't bother with turning on the lights. The lamps from the street down below were bright enough to illuminate the room without the assistance of the fluorescent overhead lights. Besides, he had finally gotten away from that god-awful American pop rubbish; perhaps his head would stop throbbing soon.

He headed for the leather couch on the opposite end of the room and sat down. It was a chore not to fall asleep as the jet-lag finally seemed to be catching up with him—not having the lights on wasn't helping either. Stifling a yawn, Arthur glanced toward the giant wall of glass that overlooked the busy street.

After about fifteen minutes, Arthur was beginning to grow impatient. He had crossed the ocean for this meeting and the president did not even have the decency to show up? The nerve!

A door opened outside of the office and muffled voices could be heard. Oh sure, the president's room was properly guarded against foreign sound. The vice-president's anger did not last long apparently, as footsteps neared the door and the handle turned. Slowly rising to greet the president, Arthur stopped at the sound of a sharp, surprised gasp. A sharp, surprised, feminine gasp…

Straightening slowly and blinking against the light streaming in from the next room, Arthur's heart began to pound painfully as he turned his face toward the person standing in the doorway. Long, wheat-colored hair; eyes wide and blue as the sky... There she was, standing in the doorway, light surrounding her.

They both stood for a moment, staring, unsure what to do.

She smiled. As her bright-as-the-sun grin grew slowly on her face, her eyes crinkled with apparent delight.

"Hi, Artie…"

Thank you for taking the time to read my first publication to this site, I appreciate it!

Anyway, this chapter is really just setting the story up and, quite honestly, it was hard to write (I hate beginning stories with a passion). If it is within my power, things will pick up from here ;)

Okay, head-cannons...for the sake of the story I've decided to change some of the characters' gender. So far they include America (Amelia), Denmark (Mathia), and Iceland (Emilie). In addition, I'm working under the idea that Sweden and Denmark are half-siblings-it will make sense later (maybe).

Feel free to leave comments or send a private message to let me know what you think.

'Til next time!

Published: 28/10/2016

Words: 2,847