AN: Okay, so just to make this clear, this story is based off of 2P Hetalia. If you don't know what that it, it's basically just the Nation's official designs colored differently. Kind of like in Super Smash Bros Brawl when two people pick the same character, player two will have different colors. The fans made it into a dark side of Hetalia.

Also, let me just explain that there are plenty references to Alice in Wonderland in this (which is sorta the point of it really), so just a warning.

I don't own Hetalia, or Alice in Wonderland, just saying (because I have to).

Green Eyes From Wonderland

England, the country, was known in their world as the, "High Nation."

Not because it was high and mighty. Not because it was on high land. More specifically, it was because the people of the nation, and the nation itself, were crazy. Magic was everywhere, it was truly a mystical paridise, once. But magic was for fairy tale's, and fairy tale's made people dream, and the dreams that people wanted to come true weren't like fairy tale's.

Real dreams, not goals or hopes, dreams, were no kind of fairy tale.

Dreams were the unexpected where it was unexpectedly expected unexpectedly. Dreams were the twists and turns of words and sights and things. Things that you don't want anyone to find out, that are twisted beyond your imagination, and are overall, crazy.

And that's what England was. It was crazy.

It was talking animals, it was 10 foot tall catapillars, it was animated inanimate objects. Colorful, twisted, poisoned, plate breaking, clam eating, tea parties, purple grass, crazy men, red queens, card jacks, grinning cats (W o n d e r l a n d).

And England's personifcation, Arthur, found that his dreams were most definately the craziest. He'd think of this as he baked, and he'd think of this as he hummed, and he'd think of this, especially, as he slept.

Once or twice he'd spoken about his dreams, in a happy, cheery, voice. Sometimes to Francis, who would ignore him and pray that he leave. Other times to Alfred, who'd scoff and state the facts, "Your crazy, they are dreams!"

But those facts were no facts to the blue eyed man. So when Alfred would say this, Arthur would simply laugh and leave. Alfred didn't know what he spoke of, Alfred didn't know his dreams, Alfred didn't even know him. So, oh well, it was his lost.

Then, Arthur would ponder, he wasn't really crazy, was he? He as in himself, himself as in Arthur, Arthur as in him, him as in England. He wasn't crazy, no he wasn't, he'd think as he combed his hair. He was perfectly normal, he'd think. "I am perfectly normal!" He'd say, with only a slightly desperate tone.

Once, though, he hadn't been craz-gifted! Once, he remembered, he was calm. Once he remembered, he had friends. Once he remembered his humanity. Once he remembered his humanity. He never did.

Humanity, humanity, humanity- it was a song he'd chant in his head, and nothing more. He wasn't human, surely not. He was over one thousand, but he was only twenty-three. He drank all poisons, and lived to try it again. He was immortal, immune, wise, even. Wise though he wasn't smart, wise though his mind was scrambled.

So, he'd think, as he lived his life. His messed up, twisted, magically horrid, life.

So, his dreams, though dreams, are no doubt the craziest. More strange than the purple smoke that came from the trees, more strange than the clocks that never turn. Stranger than the tears Arthur would sometimes, for no reason at all, shed. Stranger than the ideas every other nation had of normalcy. Even more strange, he'd think, than the human he saw in the mirror, Arthur Kirkland.

In his dreams, Arthur saw rainy days, and happiness, through satisfied green eyes.

AN: So, as you can plainly see, I like to use italics -shot

Well then, that's pretty much my head cannon for 2P!England ^^;

If you could actually understand what happened, what this is about, tell me. I'd be interested to hear your opinion, through review~