On the Surface
Water has always been there, cutting through me with precision and grace. So cool, tender, and patient as it cycles and refreshes me. It is my life, my core, my everything. In retrospect, it's no surprise the water heeds my beck and call. I've no interest in the blood soaked ground or the unreachable sky, and fire brings nothing but pain.
I'm surrounded by water on all sides. Because of water, I am always alone, and yet, for that very reason, I am not a nation easily conquered. But, our relationship is tenuous at best as breakable as anything else. Controlling such a tireless force is draining, I can only do so much before I falter. Benders are not gods. We have limits. It's something the normal populace does not seem to understand.
Strange to see so many envy me for my perpetual youth and ability, I have never considered myself so lucky. England is a tiny island nation. I wasn't always so strong. If anyone asks me how I came to discover my affinity with water, I tell them the truth for my past is not a glamorous thing. My brothers let me drown. They didn't know I'd survive. If my destiny wasn't tied to water, maybe, I wouldn't have, but as it happened, my instincts kicked in, and I unceremoniously propelled myself out of the water with the crashing waves. I blacked out after that. To this day, my brothers will not tell me what happened, but they always look so frightened when I mention it. Their terror fills me with confidence, because I know there is something terrible inside me, and they will not risk bringing it out again.
None of that matters now though because I'm somewhere completely new and refreshing. The open air and thick luscious trees brings back memories of the old forests I used to dwell in as a child. London has been prospering and evolving at a magnificent rate, but I'm glad I can get away from the rat infested and often putrid smell of its streets. So far, the trip has been uneventful, but I know better than to let my guard down. France has been spotted nearby and the others shouldn't be too far behind. This land is not mine yet, but after seeing it for myself, I definitely plan to make it so. And, there is only one undisputed method for determining who gets the spoils. I have to find the child that calls this place home.
"Sir, we have been searching for hours. Perhaps, there is no child?" Roger says, still as polite and well-spoken as ever. I wish I could rule out the possibility. As annoying as a whinny brat would be, having to constantly deal with Francis and the others would be even worse. Sadly, there is little evidence of civilization here. Everything is mostly untouched with only a few scattered natives here and there. Maybe, there is no one but ourselves to claim it.
Unfortunately, Roger's well meaning inquiry spurs the much more vocal crew to action.
"If the lad were in the forest, we would have found the half-pint by now. I say we search the tavern," Jim shouts, raising his arm in air. The crew eagerly agrees, the promise of alcohol after a long trek highly appealing. I roll my eyes. Once again, the winning argument boils down to alcohol, typical.
"Yeah, we don't know if the colony is a child. She could be one of the local harlots," Daniel says. Right on cue, the crew whistles and cheers. And just like that, the men's minds have completely turned to sex and alcohol. Hmm . . . This really isn't a battle I can win, is it?
"Take the men back, Roger. I will continue alone."
I've no need for mortals. Their eyes will not catch the first signs of a master bender's strike, nor the pitter-patter of a child's footsteps who has spent all his or her life in the woods. I've experience in both areas. No matter who I face, I will be ready.
"But sir, surely you'll need other water benders with you," Roger says, daring to grab my shoulder and stop me. How bothersome, the old cabin boy hasn't learned his place yet. I slowly turn around. My eyes narrow like a snake's.
"Are you suggesting that I am not capable of beating a child?"
The crew is silent, and Roger is pale. The underlying threat is clear. There is only one right answer. Stiff as a board, he salutes and replies quickly.
"No sir."
I smirk. Good boy.
"Then go, I'll return to camp by nightfall," I say, mind on much more important things. The child could be anywhere, and we've had far too many false alarms already. I'll say one good thing about the savages. They produce a startling amount of benders for such an unorganized hopeless race. Then again, it doesn't surprise me that they have an affinity for dirt. It suits them.
"Yes sir," Roger says, joining the boisterous crew who are more than ready to consume rum and chase harlots. He's a little shaken, but as my first mate, I can't have him acting like a sniffling child. Roger is a big boy now, not the pitiful rescue he used to be.
Satisfied my crew will be occupied elsewhere and not plotting a mutiny, I travel even further into the forest. The place is surprisingly easy to navigate and not as wild as I remember a forest should be. It is practically begging to be occupied.
I hear the sound of splashing and giggling nearby. Cautiously, I move closer to the clearing. Ah, there he is, a boy, alone in the woods just like I used to be. Thankfully, he seems to share the settlers' complexion. That makes things much less complicated.
"Hello, I'm Arthur. Who are you?" I ask, stepping forward. No sense potentially ambushing one of my people's children if I'm wrong. That would be hard to explain down the line. The child continues to giggle uncontrollably at me and walk on top of the water. I'm impressed in spite of myself. I don't know that trick.
"Who are you?" the child shouts back happily.
I chuckle. He doesn't seem very bright. This will be easy.
"I asked you first."
The child considers my answer very carefully, breaking his concentration. Without ever changing his expression, he slowly starts sinking into the water. It doesn't take him long to notice, and as soon as he does, he panics and unwittingly makes himself sink faster as he completely loses control of the water surrounding him. I grab the little squirt before he ends up drowning himself. Clinging to me, he pants and smiles.
"Thanks, concentration not so good" he says, still absently clutching my clothes.
"Where is your father?" I ask, cutting to the chase. If he's from town, I'd rather just return him and keep searching. The boy frowns, staring at the water below. It freezes.
"Gone."
Just the answer I'm looking for, especially after that little display, regardless of what or who he is, the kid has a lot of raw talent. And, I did just recently lose my cabin boy.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have a mother?"
The boy quickly looks west.
"She's busy."
Odd that a widow would venture so far from town, she must be desperate to come this far into the woods and leave her child unsupervised, regardless of his abilities.
"Can you take me to her?"
"If you play with me, brother tired," the boy says, again quickly glancing behind him.
"Wait. There are two of you?"
Another child? How fortunate, if I'm right, I've basically secured a good chunk of the continent. I do love it when things go my way. The boy steps back into the water, walking along the surface with little effort before idly answering.
"Twins," he says, marveling at his own reflection.
"Is he like you?"
"Twins," the boy answers again dubiously.
"Yes, I know. I mean the water," I say, culminating the water in my hand to illustrate. The boy's eyes light up in recognition, and he grins foolishly.
"Better."
Ah, so, he might even be worth more than this one then. I'll definitely have to see him myself and make my own judgements.
"Could you take me to him?"
The boy unexpectedly holds me closer and pouts.
"Why don't you like me?"
I blink. Huh, that's actually kind of cute. I suppose I wouldn't mind having one or maybe two cute brats as long as I don't make a habit of picking up anymore strays. I just got rid of the last one.
"It's not that I don't like you-"
"Then, play with me," the boy says, jumping out of my arms and pulling me toward the lake. He's . . . strong. I'm almost positive I've found who I'm looking for. No doubt convincing his mother to let me have him will require some persuasion, but at the end of the day, I'm more than a match for any country I come across. Still, I'll have to tread carefully. Three benders, no matter their skill level, could easily overpower me in the right circumstances.
"You, boy, slow down, I can't walk on water." Or swim, but the boy doesn't need to know that. Frankly, it's not something that comes up often despite my profession. I do spend the majority of my time on a boat. The water merely serves as an easily attainable weapon most of the time.
Whatever the case, he stops in his tracks and gives me such a look of pity that I'm almost hesitant to take him. I don't want to see that look of pity everyday. I get enough of that from France.
"That's sad. It's sooo easy. Didn't your brother teach you?" Alfred asks earnestly.
"I- No, we don't really get along. We're not the same." There's not much more to say than that. My brothers and I don't even connect on the most basic level. They're the stubborn rocks, and I'm the river forced to wear them down little by little. At least, my patience has finally paid off, give or take. They are much better behaved these days.
The boy seems genuinely shocked by my little confession. He frowns and looks at the water with a new air of determination. He puffs up and pats his chest proudly.
"Then, I'll teach you."
For once, my pride isn't much of an issue. I wouldn't mind being able to walk on water. It's a useful skill to know, to you know, keep from drowning. Unfortunately, France is in the area, and the last thing I need is for him to catch me getting water bending lessons from a child.
"That's not really necessary. I'll watch you play," I say offhandedly, heading to a nearby tree. Watching him from afar is simpler than dealing with him directly. I'm in no hurry to collect him, especially without his brother. I want the matching set, and that will require some level of patience.
The boy latches onto my leg, making me lose my balance and fall onto the stupid dirt. Ow, what a reckless little brat, I'm surprised he didn't snap my leg in half pulling that little stunt. Scratch what I said about children earlier, I can't handle more than one.
"You promised," he says, shooting me an accusing glare.
Hmph, I did no such thing, but I guess the reward is well worth the risk. If I want to keep him, I need him to like me, and well, not many people like me.
"Fine, but first, how do you do that little trick of yours?" I ask, the temptation getting to me. I can just imagine the look on France's face when I start pulling off literal miracles.
The kid looks at me like I'm an idiot and points at the water.
"You walk and try not to sink."
Great. He's too young to really understand what he's doing. Walking on water is still a far away dream.
"That's not really helpful, " I say, not bothering to hide my disappointment.
The boy rolls his eyes and sits next to me.
"So, you're saying that you want to sink?"
"No, I'm saying that if I were to do that now, I'd simply get wet." Is that really so hard to understand? I know he's a child, but he really can't be that thick, even at this age.
The boy pauses for a moment and shifts his gaze to the lake. Lifting his hand, he summons a small pocket of water to him. Tossing it back and forth, he asks a very simple question.
"Water is your friend too right?"
"My friend?" Somehow, the question manages to stump me. Can I really consider such a thing my friend? Sure, water is an essential part of life, but it can't think or feel.
"Yeah, your friend won't let you sink if you don't want to," he says, completely convinced that water works that way, and I don't really feel like proving him wrong. The least I can do is try to humor him and maintain his innocence, particularly when he doesn't seem to have many friends in the first place.
"Okay, I suppose I can give this a shot."
I get up and hesitantly head to the lake. The boy follows me without any prompting. I have his attention for now. Hopefully, I can keep it for a while longer, at least until his mother shows up. The lake's surface is still and inviting. If any piece of water is walk-able, it's this one.
When I don't step onto the water right away, the boy pushes me. I stumble forward and keep waiting for the water to soak through my clothes, but the moment never arrives. Against my better judgement, I look down. My reflection looks curiously back up at me. It's almost as if I'm looking at my double from another parallel world. I can see why the boy spends so much time looking at his reflection. He tugs at my pants, and I turn to him, mindful to keep my mind on the water, letting myself sink would be disastrous.
"Will you play with me now?" he asks, looking up at me expectantly. I grin and ruffle his hair. He's definitely expecting payment, but there is one more important thing to get out of the way.
"Tell me your name first."
The boy opens and closes his mouth several times, before finally shaking his head.
"I have a lot of names. What do you want to call me? I wouldn't mind one more."
Ah, let's see. What was that pretty name that Italy came up with a while back? I liked that one. It started with an A I think. I suppose I'll have to take a guess.
"What do you think of America?"
The boy's eyes sparkle in delight, and he grins.
"I remember that name. I like it."
America it is then. Well, that's taken care of. Now, to find his family and get custody of him and his brother so I can do some drinking of my own. America tugs my sleeve.
"Yes?"
"What's your name, old man?" he asks.
I scowl, a little miffed. America better not get in the habit of calling me "old man." He's three for St. Peter's sake. He shouldn't be talking back yet.
"I already told you. It's Arthur."
"But that's a people name. You're not people," America says, wide eyed.
Ah, I didn't think he knew the difference yet, but it confirms my suspicions at least, and multiplies my problems. The person I'll be facing won't be some doe-eyed widow. To live in such a wild place, she must be ancient.
"So, your mother isn't human either is she?"
The boy ignores my question and pulls even harder on my sleeve, beginning to pout.
"What's your real name?"
"I'm Britain if you must know, now about your mother-"
"Itan, can we play now?"
I suppose I'll have to wait, then. Even if I take him now, he'd run off eventually. Water benders are hard to lock down. A small windowless room might do the trick at this age, but that's hardly a long term solution is it? No, I'll have to earn his trust first.
"Why don't you show me what you can do? "
There is a malevolent glint to his eye as he begins to slowly lift millions of tiny droplets out of the lake. They pile together to form the equivalent of a giant water bubble. The sunlight makes the orb shine spectacularly, and for a stupefying moment, I don't realize what's coming. When I do, it's far too late. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashes the water bubble and leaves me completely soaked.
"Your turn," he shouts cheerfully.
I'm extremely tempted to freeze the little pipsqueak in place and teach him some respect, but that hardly constitutes playing. So, I flex my wrists and go for something a little more tame. The water rises and scoops him up like a cradle. He screams in delight, letting the wave take him, not realizing how the water curves like a whip. I could easily drown him if I wanted to, but I doubt that it's crossed the child's mind even once.
"One," I say, pacing myself, weary of crushing the child under the wave.
As it turns out, America is more than willing to complacently ride the tide in whatever direction I lead it. Shaking, I lose my nerve and lower my wrists. The wave breaks and dissolves into several smaller waves that America happily jumps when they come his direction.
"More, I want another big one," he cheers.
Of course, I shouldn't indulge him. Control is not my strong suit, and I don't have much experience playing games this way. When I was younger, my brothers preferred to throw rocks at me because I couldn't throw them back. And yet, I like making him smile, and it's reason enough for me to try again. Raising my arms, the water rises again, sputtering upwards as I try a little something different. Way up high now, America laughs, standing up on the makeshift fountain so he can get a better look at me. That makes me irrationally nervous. If he jumped now, I hardly have the reflexes to catch him mid-air, no matter what fancy tricks I can do with water.
"Two," I say, mostly to myself this time. My arms twist and bend, and the water twists and bends with me. I try to keep up the momentum, but I already see the miniature typhoon I made breaking apart. Blissfully oblivious, America has yet to react at all, happily holding the rim of the typhoon as it shakily continues to spin. Worried he'll plunge into the water before I can reach him, I make a split second decision, release my breath and pull my arms down. Frozen in place, America shivers, still unbearably excited. How cute, he doesn't realize just how badly things could have gone. As easily as he walks on water, he lets out his own shaky breath and melts the frozen ice keeping him in place.
"Three?" I say, a little surprised. Most children don't advance that quickly. Rapidly falling back into the lake's depths, America scrambles to pull himself together. I roll my eyes, ready to pull him out again when he launches himself like a projectile at me landing squarely on my chest. Ow. Stubborn brat.
"Weee, this is fun. Do it again," he says, shaking and clinging desperately to my clothes.
Perhaps, it was premature to freeze the water. If anything, I've made things worse if his shivering is any indication. Maybe, I should take him to the village and dry him off. I don't want him to catch pneumonia because of my carelessness.
"Are you sure?"
He punches me with his tiny fist and glares at me.
"You promised."
Self- entitled little brat isn't he? Oh well, I'm sure a water bender can handle a little cold. Still, I should avoid using ice for now. I don't know how experienced he is with it. I've yet to see the winters here.
"How about a sparing match?" I ask, curious to see the extent of his abilities. He panics easily when he loses control, despite his above average ability. Considering his recklessness earlier, it's no surprise. He's likely almost drowned many times. Still, these moments of panic are few and far between, and at the moment, he's grinning from ear to ear, pleased that play time isn't over.
"You won't get hurt old man?" he asks playfully. His bravado would be more convincing if he weren't hanging off me like a babe clings to its mother.
"I'm not the one shaking," I say, patting his back. The cold hasn't left him yet, and I'm having second thoughts about my theory that water benders can withstand the cold better than others. Red in the face, he mumbles a response.
"M'fine,"
He's quick to climb off me after that. Serious now, he steps back into the water and stands in the middle of the lake. I frown. That's way too deep for a panicky child like him to be going.
"Maybe, you should come closer to the water's edge," I say, not so subtly pushing him forward with my impromptu water whip. I accidentally smack his bum, and he glares at the thing, freezing it in place.
"I'm good, get in the water already," he says, stomping his foot. The entire lake ripples as if struck by a cosmic rock. Still doubtful, I contemplate freezing the lake. It'll be cold, but the ice would keep him from falling inside the lake's watery depths.
"Come on, I'm waiting on you" he shouts, attempting a water whip by mimicking my movements. The water doesn't reach me and falls apart at my feet.
"You haven't had much practice have you?" I ask, experimentally placing a foot on the water. It seems stable enough. The boy looks behind him before answering.
"I'm not so good at the complicated stuff," he says, so far showing little interest in attacking me. He'd rather wait for me to join him. I finally work up the nerve to place both feet on the water's surface. When I don't sink, I walk over to him where the water below us is much deeper.
"You ready?" he asks.
Taking the proper stance, I nod. He takes his own stance, much different from my own. His center of gravity is low to the ground as he kicks and punches, crudely working against the water to over power it and make it move the way he wants. No amount of water he throws at me can even touch me as his technique is far too easy to pick apart and defend against. His strikes are direct and aggressive, reminding me of the natives in the area. Odd, for a water bender to be moving this way, but understandable, earth benders seem to dominate the area. Perhaps, there are no water benders to teach him properly.
"Maybe, we should stop. It's not use if you can't touch me, " I say, having seen enough. The boy simply doesn't know how to bend properly and could use my instruction. America takes the suggestion the wrong way. He narrows his eyes, and sends a blast of water at me with one swift kick. I prepare to block again, but this time, the boy kicks the water twice more. The crude blobs of water are moving too fast. At least one of the shots will land. I freeze up. What should I block? Taking advantage of my hesitation, the boy summons three water whips and successfully holds me in place. I feel myself starting to sink as he successfully wrecks my concentration. Struggling against the water tendrils, I can't keep myself from sinking further. I'll drown if I don't do something. Deciding the boy's crude method is necessary, I freeze the tendrils and break loose, just in time for all three water blast to land.
And, just like that, the urgency is gone and the water is still once more. Taking a deep breath, I lift myself out of the water and wipe my face. Fighting on the lakes surface was a stupid if novel idea. It's not something I'll try again, any time soon. The boy grabs my arm, and uses it as a make shift swing.
"Gotcha" America says, smiling devilishly. I glare at him, a little annoyed. One good offensive out of many failed ones is not something to celebrate. He's a prideful little thing, reminds me too much of myself at that age.
"Let's see how fast you can unfreeze," I say, taking advantage of the fact that he's latched onto my arm to toss him upwards. Before he can plunge into the water, I make another makeshift icy prison to hold him in place. Every time he tries to unfreeze, I easily freeze him back in place. After about the fifth time, America gives up and crosses his arms.
"No fair."
I walk over to him and pat his head. I reach into my pocket and stuff a leftover scone in his mouth. He makes a disgusted face. Hmm . . . perhaps, the salty air has made it too stale for his taste.
"Trust me, no one is ever going to play fair. You might as well get used to it," I say, taking a bite out of my own leftover scone. He spits out the scone I gave him. Pity to waste perfectly good food, but I suppose it can't be helped, whoever has been taking care of him, has obviously spoiled him. I'm sure I can do better.
"Brother plays fair," he says.
Oh please, don't let the boy get me started on brothers. Any actual brotherly affection will get tossed out the window before long. In the end, he'll be better off looking after himself instead of harping on how fair something is.
"Then, he's going easy on you," I say, knowing on good authority that tends to happen a lot. Most people don't particularly like beating up children and would rather get them to cooperate by less brutal methods. It just so happens I wasn't so keen on falling for those less brutal methods. As bloody as things got, I'm better for it.
"Nuh-uh, sometimes he cries," America says, oddly proud of that fact.
Honestly, this argument is silly. I'd rather he not underestimate any of his opponents, including his twin. There's no guarantee I'll be able to snatch both of them up, and the sooner he realizes family can't be trusted the better.
"But you said he was better right? How can you be sure he wasn't faking?" I ask, and with that, his vehement insistence finally falters.
"Huh, I guess I can't," he says thoughtfully. His wicked smile slowly growing. I have a feeling his poor brother will likely suffer a lot more boisterous bruising from now on. And, speaking of his brother, there may still be a chance I can get a hold of him without meeting their mother at all. If America was alone, then, his brother might be as well.
"I'd like to meet him."
America shivers and looks down at the pillar of ice that has him captive.
"Kind of stuck," he says, looking up at me earnestly. I rub the back of my neck sheepishly. With my luck, he will get hypothermia later.
Taking a deep breath, I melt the water and catch him before he falls into the lake.
"There," I say, secretly glad when he holds onto me for warmth. I haven't known him long, but he's already coming to me for comfort. Maybe, I don't have his complete trust yet, but this is definitely a start.
"Great, I'm gonna find Mattie and tell 'em about you," he says, letting go of me so he can run off. Well, I can't have him running into his mother on the way.
"Never turn your back on an opponent," I say, using a water tendril to grab him by the ankle. Hanging upside down now, his robe flutters down and America hastily pushes it up to cover himself.
"But you said-,"
"Caught you," I say, using the water whip to bring him to me. The technique is a simple one and only requires that I flex my wrist at the right moment. I have no trouble securing him. He's still in shock and it doesn't occur to him to struggle. Or, that's what I thought at least.
After he's safely in my arms, America smiles brightly and pats my cheek.
"Okay, you won, but I gotta go now," he says, once again jumping out of my arms. This time, I don't bother water bending him back and grab him by the collar. Bringing him up to my eye level, I do my best to let the situation slowly sink in.
"I'm afraid I can't do that," I say quietly. His face completely blank, he asks what seems to be every child's favorite question.
"Why?"
"Because of the rules," I say, completely serious. It's not hard to fool children if you commit to it. America's still quite skeptical though. Scrunching up his face, he tries to comprehend the situation but can't seem to make a decision.
"What rules?" he asks finally.
"Since I won, I get to keep you," I say, prodding his stomach.
Covering his belly, he pouts, not liking where things are going at all, but almost instantaneously, his attitude changes completely, and he latches onto my neck as if I were his favorite toy.
"But I won first so does that mean I get to keep you?" he asks, genuinely seeking confirmation. I laugh, knowing full well he could never keep hold of me for very long.
"Sorry no, you'd have to catch me," I say, tapping the tip of his nose.
Oddly enough, his smile doesn't disappear, and his eyes narrow into happy little slits.
"'Kay, I can do that," he says, and at this point, I start to realize that I should have made more of an effort to correct him as he takes a deep breath and shouts,
"Mom, I found a stranger, and he's trying to kidnap me."
Shit. I immediately drop him. This is no way to start negotiations with a country I've never met before. The earth breaks apart, and I back away as best I can before inevitably falling into the fissure. America, of course, remains unscathed and is now sitting on a nearby tree branch, swinging his legs back and forth childishly.
"Why did you have to say that?" I say tiredly. I can already tell this is going to be unpleasant. Off in the distance, a woman shouts. She doesn't sound much older than myself. Considering what she is, that's to be expected.
"Dammit, again? I told you to stay with your brother and not talk to anyone."
Getting over this unexpected turn of events, I kick myself into high gear and attempt to pry my arms loose with little success. I'm not hurt, but she definitely knew how much pressure to use to keep me in place. I'm dealing with a master, and a master I am not. Perhaps, it wouldn't have been so bad to run into France after all. At least, I know I can take him.
For an ancient entity, she is unremarkable. This woman looks like any other native in the area. Her mud colored eyes and dark skin leave something to be desired, and under different circumstances, I wouldn't have given her a second thought. Today, I have every reason to give her my full attention. If I am to escape and take the boy with me, I need her to trust me, and well, not many people trust me. Fortunately, the child looks nothing like her, and I'm not really under the impression that she is his "mother" in the literal sense. As far as I'm concerned, the only tangible connection they have to each other is that he happened to show up in her territory.
And yet, despite these painfully obvious differences, it's easy to see where the boy gets his attitude problem. Her smug grin is identical to his, and her entire aura resonates with the same irritating sense of pride present in the boy. With every step she takes, the earth shakes and the grass grows as if she were the embodiment of some forgotten pagan god. Perhaps, a regular person would be awed by the sight, but I am only filled with dread. She is every bit as skilled and powerful as I thought she might be, and I currently have no feasible way to defend myself. She uses her foot to tilt my head upward. I wrinkle my nose in disgust, but my discomfort only increases her amusement. She knows I'm not a threat right now.
"So, this is what the ocean washed up, eh? At least the one your brother picked up was pretty," the woman says idly as if I were nothing more than a broken seashell that washed ashore.
"Excuse me?" I say, way more offended than I have any right to be in this situation. My intentions aren't exactly noble and making a fuss now will likely make the situation even worse.
"You're pretty in your own way," the boy says, patting my head affectionately. Heh, that actually made me feel worse. Perhaps, I should have brought backup with me, if only so I wouldn't have been subjected to this kind of torture.
For once, she seems a little uneasy, and the woman makes it a point to push her "son" as far from me as possible.
"No, no, he's not. Go play with your brother. I'll handle this," she says, no longer amused. I smirk, making note of the exploitable weakness. I won't hurt the boy, but once I manage to break free, he's still an easy target, and therefore, a huge liability to miss "earth shaker."
"But, he's boring when he's sleeping," America pouts, letting his feet drag so his "mother" literally has to carry him back. She sighs and picks him up.
"Maybe, you shouldn't play so rough with him then. He'd be awake more often," she points out, fixing his hair so the boy's cow lick is more visible.
" But he's asleep right now, and we weren't done playing," America says, pointing to me. I smile as sincerely as I can, but I'm sure I probably look even more like a child-napper than I did before. She looks at me skeptically and frowns.
"What did I say about messing with powerless humans?" she says, turning to America. Oh, is that what she thinks? She's in for a little surprise. It's time to act. I ignore the pain and dislocate my shoulder like Scotland taught me. I just need a minute . . .
"Not to but he's like us," he says on good authority. I smirk, flexing my free hand. A look of confusion crosses her face.
"Then, why hasn't he-"
A torrent of water crashes into her, making her lose her balance and knock down several trees. For a brief second, she's paralyzed in shock and completely soaked. This gives me more than enough time to crawl out of the fissure and get closer to the water. That little stunt cost me a lot of energy, and I can't afford to get caught again. We're both breathing heavily and neither of us is ready to make a move yet. She wipes blood from her mouth and spits.
"Ugh, it's the french trapper, all over again. Go hide with your brother" she says, slowly getting up. Her eyes are on me the entire time. I, on the other hand, have my eyes on the boy. He is well within grabbing distance, but it's much too soon to try that. So, I wait, slightly troubled by the boy's non reaction. I need him not to hate me. Luckily, his blank expression soon turns sour as the boy begins to whine.
"But, he's my friend."
His mother shoots him an incredulous look and picks him up.
"If he's your friend, why is he attacking me?" she asks.
"That's how he plays," America says cheerfully. I can't help but laugh.
"What? You don't want to play with me?" I ask tauntingly. I can afford to do so at the moment. The child will not attack me, and I'm fairly positive that she won't either while America considers me a friend.
"Oh, go die of frostbite," she says, confirming my suspicions.
"Catch smallpox," I snap right back.
"Go get syphilis," she says, shooting me a knowing look. I scoff. She's implying a lot more than I have any reason to put up with.
"You take that back," I say, raising my sword.
Before the conversation can get any more heated, I'm frozen in place.
"Play nice," Alfred says, not so much threatening me but forcing me to comply. I sigh and unfreeze myself, reluctantly putting away my sword. I'm not eager to prove I can be bested by a three year old.
" I'd like to propose a truce," I say, making her raise an eyebrow.
"And, why would I agree to that?"
"Obviously, we're evenly matched," I say, despite the fact that we've yet to actually face each other in a real match. Words are my forte, and I'm more than willing to gloss over any actual fighting if it suits me. Considering the current situation, reasoning with her is the much better choice, and I can definitely get my way without having to kidnap children, however tempting it might be.
"I wouldn't say that," she mutters, giving me a second look. The woman is not at all impressed. Thankfully, I don't need her to be. I just need her on my side long enough to kick France and Spain out.
"Regardless, if we are to coexist, I'm going to require your assistance," I say, carefully measuring her reaction. After briefly casting her gaze in the direction of the coastline, she reluctantly sighs, knowing full well she can't stop more of us from coming.
"Fine. What do you want? Access to hunting grounds? Water? Food?" she asks.
"I want the boy," I say flatly. No sense sugar coating it.
"No deal," she says, preparing to launch me into oblivion with one swift well aimed kick. Since I'd rather not have the ground beneath me fly me further into the wilderness, I'm quick to clarify.
"Hold on, I don't like children," I say, and it's enough to postpone my impending doom by catapult. She abandons her fighting stance and again looks amused.
"Then, I'm confused by your motives. "
The boy doesn't take the news so well. Largely offended, he points his grubby finger at me.
"Hey, you said you liked me. He lied to me," Alfred says, clasping the woman's neck and glaring at me.
"I know, sweetie. I'll kick his ass for you later," she reassures him, patting his back. I roll my eyes again. There isn't going to be anymore fighting today. I'm certain of that although I am still weary of being catapulted out of her sight if I say the wrong thing.
"Look, I just need to prove to the others that I have him so they'll go away," I say, explaining the situation as simply as possible. Her amusement abruptly changes to one of disbelief.
"Again, why?"
"It's how we do things. Grab the child, win the territory," I say, fully aware of how silly it sounds, but I still vastly prefer this way of doing things versus fighting a never ending battle with whichever country I happen to be competing with. (It's usually France and spending less time with France is reason enough to jump through these kind of hoops.)
"You're all awful. I'm glad most of you are incompetent," she says, shaking her head at me. Oh, she's one to talk.
"Like the way you do things is all sunshine and roses, from what I understand, you have cannibalistic tendencies," I say, edging her on. She's not at all offended and even smiles.
"Lucky for you, you don't look yummy at all then," she says. America snickers.
" You know what, forget I said anything. If you're not going to cooperate," I say, ready to get out of here. The boy won't come with me yet. I've no reason to stick around.
"Wait, to be honest, the Spanish and French guy are starting to get on my nerves. I wouldn't mind if they backed off," she admits. America looks up at her shocked.
"I thought you liked France?"
"Turns out France likes everybody. Besides, no one names my kid but me" she says.
"But I like the name Canada. CA-NA-DAH," America shouts.
"That's nice, sweetie, but he's getting a little too close to Matthew for my taste," she says. Her tone makes it quite clear that his name probably didn't used to be Matthew either.
"You told me not to talk to mean people," America says bluntly.
" Well, we're going to cooperate with the children hater, just this once," the woman says, making it quite clear that any alliance we make will be uneasy at best. Sigh, the things I do to get ahead.
"Can I cut in?"
"What child hater?"
Great, I have a feeling that nickname is going to stick. Patience, Arthur, you'll gain the advantage soon enough. Right now, she has something you want. Be nice.
"Please, call me Arthur."
"Fine Arthur. What?"
"About the children-" I say, a little hesitant to bring it up now that I'm known as the "child hater." I shouldn't have bothered. She's not letting the little brats out of her sight.
"Yeah, I don't want you anywhere near my children. Who knows what bad habits Little Rabbit picked up from you," she says, holding America closer to her. America immediately starts to squirm. Hmm . . . he doesn't like being smothered. I'll have to make note of that.
"Mom, I told you not to call me that," America says, repeatedly trying and failing to get out of her grip.
"Okay, calm down, Little Rabbit," she says, completely missing the point.
"Mom," he whines.
I've heard enough. Based on what I've seen, I'm not the one teaching him bad habits.
"I assure you that he didn't learn anything you wouldn't approve of," I say, confident that a few minutes alone with me isn't the poison well she's making it out to be. America smiles mischievously, and I start having second thoughts about that.
"Never turn your back on an opponent, and family can't be trusted," he says, purposely trying to imitate me. I wince, that probably didn't win me any points in the good ally department. Sure enough, she is not even a little amused.
"Goodbye,"she says, turning her back on me. I grab her by the shoulder.
"I thought we had deal," I say, sounding a lot less understanding than I did a moment before. Negotiations are likely to be difficult, and it's more than a little frustrating. I don't want to spend more time with her than I have to.
"Maybe, some other time, I'm not sure if I can trust you yet," she says, forcibly removing my hand. The woman doesn't make a move to leave, and I get the hint. She wants to be convinced.
"You can trust me more than the frog. That's for sure," I say. She rolls her eyes. I must not sound very reassuring.
"I doubt it, but you can stick around for now I guess," she says with a shrug.
"What makes you think I need your permission?"
As soon as I say it, I know I shouldn't have, particularly after she gave me her blessing to stay, but I've never been one to back down from a challenge before, and I'm not about to start now.
"Because here, I'm queen, you water bender has-been," she says, not so subtly attempting to trip me by putting rocks in my way. I don't appreciate it.
"We'll see just how long you last," I say, threat clear. The woman doesn't take it as one. She smirks, not at all bothered that I'm still following her.
"I could say the same to you, Mr. Roanoke. "
No one is ever going to let that go are they?
"I'd rather not be associated with those daft settlers, thank you. They were either traitors or deserters," I say dismissively. I haven't exactly been keeping a careful eye on all these settlers.
"Or they died because you're incompetence," she says. I sigh again. Perhaps, I should change my approach to this whole colony thing, and I suppose I can admit my mistakes, no matter how indirect my involvement.
"Yes, or they died miserable unspeakable deaths. I'm aware," I say. She better drop it. Unfortunately, America seems to have picked up on the game.
"Bye, Mr. Roanoke," he says happily.
I swear he says these things on purpose. Well, I better correct him now or the annoying nicknames will pile up. I put on my best patient face and look him in the eye.
"That's not my name," I say.
America's attention unfortunately doesn't stay on me. Another little blonde boy has popped out of the bushes. Oh, so this is the other one. He looks at me timidly and hides behind the woman.
"Who's that guy?"
"Oh, he's Itan, but he prefers to be called Mr Roanoke," America pipes up before the woman can explain.
"Oh, bye, Mr Roanoke," the new little blonde says.
My eyebrows inadvertently twitch. Lovely, the nickname is sticking. The woman doesn't say a word, but her face speaks volumes. She isn't about to correct them.
"Yes, bye, you little annoying brats." I mutter under my breath.
We go our separate ways, and as I watch the two little blond boys leave with the strange impertinent woman, I can't help but feel a sense of loss. They really should be with me. Damn, I'm really going to make a habit of picking up strays aren't I?
