Author's Note: I have just finished watching the first season of Hetalia, so if the characters aren't completely IC, please let me know and I will see what I can do to rectify this. Feedback is appreciated. This is a very rough start to the fic but I'm hoping that it will improve with further chapters. Note: Hetalia is not mine, as much as I wish it was sometimes.

These Plains of Abraham

"Berwald! Hey, Berwald!" There was the sound of running footsteps, then of a high, eardrum-piercing squeak as a young boy quickly halted in front of him. The man being called looked down at his young charge with disinterest.

"Yes, Peter?"

"So, I was trying to get people to notice me at the general meeting today-"

"Let me guess. Nobody did, did they?"

"No." Peter's enthusiasm was dampened slightly, but he continued on rapidly.

"Anyways, I was there and I saw somebody with blonde hair and I can't for the life of me remember his name-"

"There are a lot of blonde people on the council. You're going to have to specify." "Berwald sighed inwardly and hoped that Peter would get to the point, as he had to meet with Tino over at his house in less than an hour.

"He's got blue eyes."

"Alfred?"

"No, Alfred's brother, I think."

"Alfred doesn't have a brother."

"Yes he does! He's always got a polar bear with him-"

"Oh!" Berwald slapped a hand against his forehead. "Matthew!"

"Yeah, I saw him this morning and I heard him speaking to his bear." Peter said.

"That's nice." Berwald said, walking forward. He was halted in his steps by a tug on his hand.

"Berwald, I have a question."

"Yes?" He glanced back.

"In order to become a good country, I should try to find out what I can about the other countries, right?"

"It's a good idea, yes, although you must be careful."

"How come Matthew speaks in both French and English?"

That caught Berwald's attention. He turned around to face Peter. "Why do you ask?"

"When he was talking to that bear of his Matthew was speaking both languages."

"Oh, well…" Crud. That was at least three hundred years worth of history. He didn't have time to tell all of that, especially since he wasn't entirely sure of all the details himself. "It's a long story. Look, ask Alfred about it; he's closest to Matthew so he'd probably know more." Just as Peter was about to run towards Alfred's house Berwald caught his arm. "Peter?"

"Yeah?"

"This is one of those subjects where you need to be careful. Whatever happens, don't ask Francis why Matthew speaks French."

"Err, ok." Berwald let go and Peter spun around and headed back down the hallway. Berwald watched him go, then shook his head and continued on.


Alfred was sitting in his garden when Peter arrived, out of breath from running so far.

"Oh, hello…there." He said, not recognizing the boy.

"Hey Alfred, you don't know me yet but someday you will. I'm Sealand!" Alfred blinked as Peter stood there, beaming.

"Err, hello. I don't believe I've ever heard of a country called Sealand." The boy huffed, and then held out his hand. "Don't worry, someday I'll be the greatest country ever! Until then, just call me Peter."

"Nice to meet you, Peter. Did you come to get an autograph?" To his chagrin, Peter burst out laughing.

"No, 'fraid not. I actually came to ask you a couple of questions."

"Shoot."

"Matthew's your brother, right?" Peter asked.

"Well, kind of. It's complicated." Alfred hoped the kid would leave it at that.

"Oh." Peter paused momentarily. "How come Matthew speaks both French and English?"

So much for leaving it at that. Alfred chuckled softly and sat back, looking up at the sky. "Wow." He said.

"What?" Berwald's warnings of being careful came back to Peter, and he turned bright red. "I didn't say something bad, did I?"

"No, it's fine. It's just…been a while since anybody's really questioned Matt's bilingual status." Alfred too, was bilingual, although that had to do more with his Spanish-speaking neighbors than anything else. "Well, to make a long story short, it has to do with the influence that Arthur and Francis had on him."

"Oh…so, is he their kid or something?" Poor Alfred nearly fainted.

"WHAT? No, no, NO. Just…look, it's not like that. He's not thei—well, he kind of was but he wasn't but…" Crud, the short version wasn't going to work. He had the time to tell the long version, and the kid wanted an answer… He patted the space next to him on the bench. "Would you sit with me?"

"Ok." Peter plopped down beside him and started to idly swing his legs.

"Your question is a good one, but it has a very long answer. Do you have the time to hear it?" The boy nodded. "Good. Well, it all started when I was just a young boy, still under Arthur's care…"