Hi! I've been reading a lot of historical AU's recently and decided to try my hand at one! I'm not sure whether this will be a one-shot or have more chapters... It all depends on whether or not I come up with more ideas. So, I hope you enjoy!
I don't own Hetalia.
Pacing. Pacing. Clanking chains. Pacing. Pacing. Pacing.
That was all young America could do now. His body that he was once so proud of, was emaciated and scarred. His 'chambers' (rather like cell), was dirty and unkempt.
It had been nearly one year since he had lost the revolutionary war, and had been in this situation ever since.
"Alfred! Get over here!" He heard Arthur call. He sighed.
Arthur walked into the room and sat on his unmade bed. "How are you?" He smiled, and
Alfred glared t him, and looked away. "Alfred? Are you going to answer me? This isn't how I raised you, to ignore your elders like this." He scolded him I'm going to have to punish you if you don't get over here."
Alfred stiffened and turned back towards the elder country, but, still refused to reply. "Alfred." His voice got lower and angrier, "Get over here." Alfred shook his head.
Arthur's face darkened and he stood up. "Last chance." He said, then went and slapped the younger nation, making him flinch back. "Next time, you'll reply when I speak to you, alright? Ok!" He clapped his hands together. "Matthew will be here in a moment to clean you up. We have an execution to go too!" He walked out of the room, and Alfred slumped to the ground.
Who was it this time? Arthur had already murdered most of his founding fathers. John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, the list goes on and on. All hanged in the name of that blasted king.
"Alfred? Can I come in?" The tentative voice of his twin brother spoke up from the door. He nodded. Matthew was the only person he could at least partially trust. Af
"How are you doing?" He asked quietly.
"I'm fine. Alfred lied. How could he be fine on a day like this?
"I'm glad to hear it." Matthew replied, trying to sound cheery as he tended to Alfred's wounds, that were both self-inflicted on accident while trying to escape, or punishment from Arthur or any other solder who wanted to take something out on someone.
Matthew unlocked the chains attached to Alfred's feet and hands, then handed him new clothes, looking way as he changed.
"Well, are you ready?" He asked.
"No." Alfred thought, but outwardly shrugged.
"Ok, then. Lets go!" Matthew replied, his attempt on cheeriness ruined by the cracking in his voice. He hated to see his brother like this. He used to be so happy and free..
They walked out, and Alfred was handed over to the custody of his guards, who would constantly laugh and abuse the young nation, but, "It was for his own good." As Arthur would say.
"I've been waiting for this day for such a long time!" Arthur laughed, turning to Alfred and smiling. They were sitting at the execution site. "Finally, the last of these wretched men who dared call themselves your fathers will be destroyed forever!"
"Not all of them." Alfred thought, thinking of George Washington, who was still hiding somewhere.
After a few minutes of waiting, the accused walking out, his head held high. Alfred gasped quietly. Not. It can't be. But it was. Thomas Jefferson.
He should have expected this, but it was still hard. He began to shake as memories rushed through his brain.
"What are you doing, Mr. Jefferson?" A young Alfred asked, bouncing into the man's house like it was his own.
"Why, hello, Alfred!" Jefferson smiled. "This is my violin. I was just playing it for inspiration."
"Inspiration for what, sir?" Alfred asked,, sitting down by Jefferson by the dining table.
"For the Declaration of independence, my dear boy! I'm sure Washington told you about it?"
Alfred nodded. "Oh, yes, sir!" He beamed, then spied the said document sitting on the table. "Could I read some of it?" He asked hesitantly.
"Of course, son!" He handed the valuable document over, knowing that the boy wouldn't dare do anything to it.
"We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal.. This is wonderful, sir!" Alfred exclaimed, his magnificently blue eyes dining with emotion. "Thank you!" Jefferson merely smiled back.
Alfred was jerked back to reality by Arthur. He was smiling, much like the way Jefferson used to.
"Finally, my son, all these horrible traitors will be gone, and you can be free once more!"
"Free?" Alfred muttered, clenching his fists, "This is free?"
"Why, yes, of course! How couldn't it be?"
"You bloody fool!" Alfred yelled. The whole courtyard went silent. "How in any way could this be called freedom?"
"Alfred, sit down." Arthur hissed, "We ! I won't sit down! I'm not taking any more of this!"
"Alfred, sit down!" I'" Arthur growled.
"NO!"
"That's it!" Arthur exclaimed, and snapped his fingers, beckoning the guards over. Alfred was forced to sit down.
"Are all interruptions finished, now?" The executioner asked irritatingly, Arthur nodded, and waved for him to go ahead.
"Mr. Thomas Jefferson. You are accused of committing treacherous acts toward the crown. Do you accept this charge?"
"I do." Jefferson said, still holding his head high.
"No! Alfred yelled. Jefferson looked over to him and smiled gently.
Alfred watched in horror as they put a noose around the man's neck.
"You are sentenced to hang until dead." The executioner commanded, and stepped back. The drum rolled. Tatatata... And the man who had Alfred admired so much, was gone.
'Snap!'
Alfred almost fell out of his seat at the sound. Arthur mistook the tears for happiness, and patted his back.
"There, there, my brother." He muttered. "That man can't hurt you anymore."
Alfred clenched his fists. That was the final straw.
On the way 'home', Alfred was feverishly brainstorming. Would Matthew take his shackles off? He had asked before, but he always said no.. He would have to try it again. And if not, he could always knock him out.. Would he be able to find Washington? Was he even still alive? He wasn't sure, but he was sure of one thing. He was escaping. Today, the United States was not meant to live in chains.
"Ok, Alfred, Matthew will be up with your dinner, ok?" Alfred only glared at him. "Alright." He said awkwardly, and walked out.
As soon as Arthur left, Alfred jumped up. "What would break these?" He thought, when Matthew came in.
"Alfred, what's wrong?" He asked worriedly, taking note of his brother's panicked expression.
"Matthew! Help me!" He hissed quietly, and held out his hands.
"What, no!" He exclaimed, just as quietly.
"Please, brother!" He begged, making puppy eyes, "I can't take it anymore. I need to get out."
Matthew shook his head slowly. Alfred had played this card before, and he could usually ignore it. But this time, it seemed like there was something different in his asking. "I can't. You're in here for your own good. I can't let you out."
"Matthew, look at me. Do I look like I'm thriving?" Matthew shook his head slowly. "I need to get out. You can come to! We'll find old George, and get away from that slimy tea-sucking git forever!
"What's taking so long up there, Matthew?" They heard from downstairs.
"Nothing!" Matthew called back. "I've told you this before. I can't let you out! It's for the good of your country!" He turned to go out.
"It was Jefferson." He heard Alfred say quietly.
"What?"
"They killed Jefferson today. He was one of the best people I've ever known! Is that really a good thing, to kill people like him? How is that 'good for my country'?"
Matthew thought for a moment, then sighed. "Fine." Alfred's eyes widened. "You're right. This isn't right. I'll stay here, and cover for you as long as I can, ok?" Alfred was nodding frantically the whole time he was talking.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you!" He cried as Matthew unlocked his chains. "I'll come back for you, ok?" He promised, going over to the window.
"Don't worry about it. There are guards posted at the entrance of the house. If you can get past them, you're home free."
"Thank you!" He repeated, and slipped out the window. His last sight before dropping to the ground was of Matthew looking anxiously downstairs, obviously worried about what Arthur was going to do to him. He felt a bit guilty for leaving his brother all alone like this, but Matthew had chose to stay.
And so, he set of running. For the first time in a long time, he felt free.
Do you think I should continue? If so, review!