Chapter 1

". . . and still remains to be an important lifeline for the Four Kingdoms. In one instant, when the trading ports across the border of Spades. . ." The tutor trailed off, his face taking on an exasperated expression as he noticed that his young student was once again letting his attention drift away from the lesson. Sighing, he crossed his arms and called the boy out. "Your Highness, if you have the ability to doodle all over your paper, I'm sure you can put just as much detail and work into writing your notes."

The young Prince didn't even lift his head to reply and instead, continued to sketch away, his pencil working in a frantic motion. "But I already know all this stuff," he insisted.

"Really?" the tutor asked, unconvinced. "Then list the cities where the major trading ports are located in Spades."

The pencil stopped mid-stroke. Azure eyes lifted from the paper and sheepishly met the studying gaze of his tutor. "All of them?"

"Yes, all. You were assigned to memorize the names weeks ago, Your Highness." A smile tugged at the corner of the tutor's lips.

The boy pouted, not liking the smug tone in his tutor's voice. "I-I know that!" he blurted. His face scrunched up in concentration. "Um. . . I know for sure there's one in-. . . or was it at-. . . uh. . . or maybe it was-. . ."

"Having trouble remembering, Your Highness?" the tutor mused, interrupting the boy's muttering.

"No!" the Prince exclaimed in panic. His cheeks were already tinged with pink from embarrassment. "I know them, but. . . I just. . . forgot that's all."

Seeing the Prince's distress, the tutor sighed with a small smile, putting his hands up as if surrendering. "Alright, I suppose that'll be enough history for now. I know the good weather isn't exactly helping, so I'll let you finish early today."

The boy's face lit up like sunshine. "Really?" he asked, already bouncing in his chair.

Nodding, the tutor said, "Yes, really. Now go before I change my mind."

The Prince didn't need to be told twice. Grinning, he shouted his thanks, grabbed his books, and sprinted out the study room towards his chambers with new-found energy. With enough force to break the door down, the Prince barged into his room, threw his books carelessly onto his desk, and hurriedly changed from his royal attire into the loose clothing of a regular farm boy. Washing his face of any lingering sweat at the basin, the boy wasted no time climbing down the ivy outside his room's balcony and running into the forest towards the fields bordering the Kingdom of Spades.

Running up and over familiar hills, dodging large tree roots, and avoiding slippery moss, the Prince rejoiced in his time of freedom as he sped through the ancient forest whooping and laughing ecstatically, loving the way his speed made the wind comb back his light honeycomb coloured hair.

It was summer in the Kingdom of Spades and with the sun high in the afternoon sky the last thing the young Prince wanted was to stay indoors studying. Summer meant everything was at its finest, be it the weather, mood. . . or even magic. Faeries could be sighted more often and weapons of new designs would be traded in and out of Spades. Duels between magicians would be preformed out in the public and enchanting displays of magic were sure to make this year's festivals another huge success. Just thinking about it made the Prince tense in excitement.

He breathed in the forest air, thick with heat yet fresh with dew, loving the earthy smell. The sun peeking through the leaves seemed to glitter as the Prince occasionally glanced up towards the sky while he ran. As the forest thinned out, the Prince stopped at a small river cutting through the greenery. The slow water current reflected the sunshine in fragments of light, shining with more brilliance than the royal jewels. Still panting from the run, the Prince carefully skipped over the path of rocks in the river to reach the other side, finally arriving at his destination.

There, in front of another thin layer of forest, was a grand apple tree stretching several meters tall. Its branches were flush with leaves and decorated with beautiful, rosy apples in their prime. Already feeling his mouth begin to water, the Prince wasted no time climbing the tree to hunt for the biggest, juiciest apple of them all. Although it was going to be quite the challenge considering the tree's gigantic size, the Prince knew his stomach wouldn't be complaining for long.

"Mom, I'm back!" the farm boy announced while closing the door behind him. The warm, toasty smell of baking bread filled the air and he breathed in deeply, relishing it.

Said mother poked her head out from the kitchen to welcome her young son home. "Finished with the harvest for the day?" she smiled, dabs of flour smeared on her face.

"Yes, Mom," he answered, laughing at the sight. Using his forefinger, he pointed to his own cheek in the same spot his mother had flour on.

Taking the hint, his mother laughed and rubbed it away with her apron. "Go wash up, honey. There's still plenty of time left before dinner so go play for a while. . . maybe with the other children?" she suggested helpfully.

She watched her son's face expression fall and the vivid green of his eyes darken before they moved to stare at the floor. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight around uncomfortably. His mother sighed in sympathy, recognizing the silent answer. She knew her son wasn't exactly the most social boy around and that he preferred reading a book by himself under the shade or spending a day playing beside the faerie folk, but she really did worry about his ability to make friends. . . or lack thereof. "Did you at least try?" she asked.

He replied after a long pause, still not looking up at his mother. ". . . They made fun of my eyebrows."

The mother was relieved her son couldn't see as she cupped a hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh. "Are you sure they weren't just teasing?"

"They've done it a lot of times before and were really mean about it," he huffed back.

His mother walked towards him and gently lifted his head with her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Now Arthur, are you really going to let one shallow statement stop you from making friends?"

Her son pouted. "But what if I don't want to have friends? I don't need them if they're mean. I have the faeries to play with." However, his stubbornness shrunk away after seeing the stern look his mother was giving him.

Eventually letting out a soft chuckle, the mother used her thumbs to smooth over her son's eyebrows in a comforting way, a kind smile on her lips. "But I suppose you did the right thing. A true friend should never judge you by the way you look." Her son's face brightened at her praise and she planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "But keep trying, alright?"

". . . I'll try," he murmured back.

"Good boy," the mother said, gently tapping her son's lightly freckled nose with a finger. Despite all the sun he gets and the large amount of time he spends outdoors, the only evidence is a barely invisible pattern of freckles over his nose and cheeks. Somehow, he remained fair-skinned and untouched by the sun's powerful rays whereas the other children easily tanned. "Now go have fun and make sure to be back on time for dinner," she said, running her fingers through his hair. The colour used to be almost amber before the sun bleached it lighter. Now the shade reminded the mother of rolling wheat fields when they're basked in sunlight, similar to the ones just outside their house.

Giving his mother a grateful kiss on the cheek, he rushed back outside after a change of clothes, taking his notebook and pencil just in case he had the urge to distract himself from the thought of socializing. He ran down the dirt road towards the forest up ahead, a giddy smile on his face put there by anticipation. He couldn't wait to spend the late afternoon sitting in the shade of his apple tree by the river, munching away at the ripe fruit hanging from its branches. Excitement fueled his moving limbs despite being considerably tired from field work.

He slowed his run to a walk as he approached the edge of the forest. He always loved this place for its peace and secrecy. It wasn't a far walk from the edge of the greenery to the tree, but a clueless passerby would have no idea that a river and a giant fruit tree – able to provide for many families – could be so close.

Without hesitation, he made his way into the forest, carefully stepping over roots and sharp rocks hidden away by dirt and fallen leaves. When the tree came into sight, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Closing the distance, he picked off an apple hanging off a low branch and settled down at the base of the giant tree, not hesitating to take a large bite of the fruit. Sighing contentedly, he leaned into the trunk and looked up past the line of trees, catching the Spade palace in his line of sight. The palace wasn't exactly hard to miss due to its sheer size. Although some may say the size was a little much, it certainly matched the power of the Kingdom of Spades.

As the ruling power of the Four Kingdoms, Spades had the upper hand in military, trade, and economy. It wasn't a surprise that the palace would flaunt all aspects with its high defence walls and overall regal look. The flag of the Kingdom of Spades flew high and proud on the highest point of the palace, its golden symbol shining in the center of the flag's royal purple background for all to see.

He finally closed his eyes, relaxing in the warmth of the summer breeze; listening to the birds sing and the leaves stir. The running water of the stream nearby was like a lullaby. Arthur couldn't ask for more. Everything was perfect.

. . .

Everything was perfect, that is, until something hard dropped onto the top of his head. Letting out a yelp of pain, he instinctively brought his hands up to comfort the injury, dropping his apple in the process. Looking around for the source, his eyes eventually found it: a very large apple still in the midst of rolling away from him. Frowning in annoyance, he rubbed the sore spot on his head, trying not to cry out in pain as he brushed over the lump that was already beginning to form. He glared at the apple, but decided that it was too immature to blame the innocent fruit. After all, it was perfectly natural and ordinary for a tree to drop its fruits.

On the other hand, nothing was natural or ordinary about a voice that suddenly called out from above him. "Hey, you okay?!" The voice belonged to a young boy and was slightly higher in pitch than the injured boy still nursing his head. Startled, he looked up and all over, trying to find the source of the voice. He wasn't hearing things, right? The apple didn't hit him that hard.

"Over here!" the same voice called out. This time, a boy jumped down from the high branches, covered in leaves and smudged with dirt. "Are you okay?" he asked again.

Instinctively, the injured boy examined the newcomer in front of him. His face was flushed (probably from doing whatever he was doing up in the tree) and his hair was slightly damp with sweat. He was slightly shorter, and despite the slight pudge on his cheeks, he looked like any other healthy farm boy that spent his days in the fields.

No longer in shock, the boy on the ground fumed, "No, of course I'm not alright! You just dropped an apple on my head!" Taking a good look at the boy's face, he took notice that he had the most striking blue eyes he had ever seen.

At the moment, those blue eyes were widened in defence. "But I didn't mean to! Honest!"

"You could at least apologize," he argued. "What if I got knocked out?!"

"But you didn't!" Then the boy frowned in confusion. "I don't have to say sorry if I didn't mean it," he protested.

That logic only made the injured one even angrier. "But it was still your fault the apple dropped!"

The other boy hummed, as if debating whether or not to surrender. But rather than saying anything, he turned away from the injured boy, picked up the fallen apple, and went back to him, holding it out. "How 'bout this? I'll share my apple with you instead of saying sorry since I didn't exactly do anything wrong," he offered with a wide grin.

The other huffed at the thought, slightly taken aback by the boy's stubbornness. "No thanks. I already have my. . . own. . ." He trailed off when he noticed his half-eaten apple lying in the grass, its white flesh covered with dirt. He had forgotten that he had sacrificed his little treat in the sudden assault from above. Looking back at the boy still holding out his apple, the knowing grin still on his face, he sputtered an excuse. "I-I'll just get another apple from the tree."

"But I got the biggest apple of them all!" the other insisted, waving the fruit in front of the boy's face. "I bet it's be the tastiest too," he said teasingly.

Feeling like the boy wasn't going to give up any time soon (and the giant apple in his hand did look rather tasty), the injured boy sighed and frowned, grabbing the apple from the other's hand. "Fine, but I get first bite."

The blue-eyed boy grinned and happily sat next to the other. The two passed the apple back and forth, devouring it until only the core was left. Both boys were left feeling quite full and very satisfied. During the entire time, the strange boy who had dropped from the tree kept blabbering on about the nice weather or how good the apple tasted or the food he ate this morning or anything else that caught his attention.

When there was finally a small period of silence, the green-eyed boy coughed out awkwardly, "So. . . who are you exactly?" Might as well get to the point, he thought. No use continuing to avoid it. Especially when he finally had a chance to speak after the other's rambling.

The other turned to look at him with a surprised look on his face, as if remembering that this was the first time they've met. "Oh, right! I forgot!" he said, a new smile stretching across his face. "The name's Alfred!" He stuck out a hand to shake.

The other boy took the hand somewhat hesitantly, not sure what to make of such formal actions coming from such a young person. "Arthur," he replied. Both hands were sticky from juice and tree sap but neither of the boys seemed to mind. Giving a small shake, Arthur let go and placed his hand back on his lap. "How did you find this place, Alfred?" he asked.

"What d'ya mean?"

Arthur hesitated. "Well. . . this place is hard for most people to find. I thought I was the only one who knew about it."

"This is my secret place," Alfred answered brightly, but his grin dimmed when he continued, "Oh, but I guess it's not a secret anymore since you found it."

Arthur stared, frowning a little after processing the information. "But. . . this is my secret place. I found it first." At least he thought he did.

"Nuh uh," the other pouted. "I found it first."

"I. . . don't think you did."

"Sure I did!"

"No, you didn't."

"I did!"

"You didn't!" Arthur felt himself starting to lose control over the volume of his voice. Here he was finally spending time with someone other than faeries or his books and the relationship was already falling apart. Although Arthur doubted it really existed in the first place.

Alfred jumped up onto his feet, turning towards the other boy with his hands clenched. "Yeah I did!" He was just as stubborn and determined to win just as much as Arthur.

"Oh yeah? Prove it!" Arthur stood as well, not wanting Alfred to intimidate him by height. To his advantage, Alfred was the shorter boy and had to tilt his head slightly upwards to meet Arthur's eyes.

Hearing Arthur's challenge, Alfred had a mixed expression of horror and anger, his cheeks turning pink. "T-That's. . . That's not fair! I can't prove that," he whined.

"So I win," Arthur smiled triumphantly, crossing his arms in a content huff.

"No you don't! You can't prove that you found this place first either!" Alfred accused, pointing a finger.

To Arthur's dismay, he knew Alfred was right. His brain scrambled for some way to retort back. "W-Well I'm older than you!"

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"Yes it does! It means everything," he argued back, frantically doing the math in his head. "I found this place when I was five!"

"So?" Alfred snorted. "I found it when I was four!" He thrust out his fingers for emphasis.

Arthur felt himself begin to smile. "So? How old are you now?"

"I'm seven!" the other said proudly.

"Well I'm ten. That means I found it first," Arthur concluded happily.

Alfred's frowned, this time in confusion. "I don't get it."

"No, of course you don't," Arthur scoffed, too low for Alfred to hear. Then he explained, "Since I'm ten and you're seven that means I'm older than you. So if I found this place when I was five that means you were only three and you just said you found this place when you were four."

Alfred suddenly looked devastated. Biting his bottom lip, his watery blue eyes frowned at the ground between them and his hands were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He was so quiet, Arthur thought he was going to cry.

Then Arthur was worried. The last thing he needed was someone tattle-tailing on him for being mean. It's not like he wanted to make the boy cry. He was just telling the truth! Defending what was rightfully his!

Arthur opened his mouth to say something in reparation, but before he could utter a sound, Alfred's eyes suddenly shot back up to meet his, a new fire burning in its depths. "W-Well I'm Alfred Franklin Jones, Prince of Spades! H-Hence, your arguments are i-invalid and. . . um. . . since these are my lands t-this is my secret place, so there!" He puffed his chest out and stood as tall as he could without lifting onto his toes, trying to look as imposing as a seven-year-old could.

He expected Arthur to be shocked and guilty that he had dared to challenge the royal Prince of Spades. He should have surrendered, shrunk back in fear, and apologized, begging for forgiveness. As for Alfred – being the forgiving, kind, and fair Prince that he was – he would grant Arthur forgiveness and let him return home safely, maybe letting the poor boy take a few apples if he felt merciful enough.

Alfred was already beginning to smile at the possible outcome when much to his dismay, Arthur simply snorted at his previous statement, looking unimpressed. "I thought your name sounded familiar, but I never thought the young Prince would be so. . ." he paused, ". . . so weird. And for your information, these lands belong to your father, the King. . . not you."

Taken aback, Alfred hotly said, "S-same thing! And what's weird are your eyebrows! They look like fuzzy caterpillars growing on your face!" He had frantically pointed out the first thing that came to mind, but he immediately regretted it when he saw a hurt expression flash across Arthur's face.

"They're not weird!"

"They totally are!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

Alfred tried to change the subject. "I'll only say they're not weird if you take back what you said about me being weird!" he persisted. In all honestly, Alfred didn't think they were strange at all. It had only been a passing first impression when he first saw Arthur's face. Not to mention, he didn't like making fun of people. It wasn't a very heroic thing to do. The knights and kings in his storybooks never made fun of others for the way they looked.

"But you are weird!" Arthur sputtered. "Y-You smile all the time and talk too much to someone you just met and you're too loud and laugh too much and even your laugh is weird and-. . . and-. . . and-. . ." Arthur drifted off, trying to find more things to say but coming up short. ". . . and I just don't like you!" Standing there in the tense silence, Arthur felt his face heat up in embarrassment as he stared at the ground. "J-Just don't come back! This is my spot," he finished weakly. Turning away, he ran without looking back, leaving a dumbfounded Alfred behind.

Watching Arthur's back quickly disappearing into the forest, Alfred fumed. "W-Well. . . I don't like you either!" he shouted after him. But there was no indication the other even heard him. Stomping a foot into the ground, Alfred paced around with his eyebrows drawn into a frown and his cheeks puffed up in a pout. He had actually liked Arthur and thought him to be a new friend until their little dispute. Feeling angry and hurt at Arthur's words, the Prince swore to come again tomorrow out of spite just to make Arthur mad. He was then disappointed to realize his good mood was ruined and he no longer felt like lounging in the sun anymore. Picking one last apple off the tree, he was about to walk and cross the river back to the palace when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Where Arthur had sat was a brown leather book, worn from use. When Alfred picked it up and opened it, he was surprised to see messy handwriting fill the pages. Every page was brimming with notes on plants, trees, flowers, and magical creatures. Illustrations of each were drawn alongside the writing; detailed pencil sketches of the different faerie species, unicorns, medicinal plants, and magical weapons decorated the boarders and empty spaces. Entranced by his find and forgetting his grumpiness entirely, Alfred hurried home, excited to continue reading.

For once, he thought, there was actually a book he wanted to study.

"You're home early, dear," Arthur's mother pointed out when her son marched through the door, looking none too happy. "Did something happen?" she asked innocently.

Arthur studied his mother's expression then gave her a sour look. "Why ask when you already know?" he huffed, sitting heavily onto the couch.

Smiling knowingly, she set down the basket she was weaving and moved to sit beside her son. "Can you blame me for asking?" she said, laughing softly. "Besides, how can I deny my son from meeting the Prince of Spades?"

"He made fun of my eyebrows just like everyone else!"

"From what I could see, I think you got along swimmingly," she encouraged. "Best attempt you've made so far."

Arthur frowned. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Well it should. After all, I have a feeling you'll be seeing each other again soon."

"What?!" Arthur gasped in horror. "No! I never want to see him again!"

"Oh, but you'll meet again."

"Then I won't go back there," Arthur huffed stubbornly. "You'll probably know whenever I might see him, so I can just keep avoiding him. Just let me know when he won't be showing up so I can avoid him."

His mother narrowed her eyes. "Arthur Kirkland, listen to what you're saying. I may be a Seer, but I'm also your mother. You're being utterly ridiculous and unnecessarily childish, avoiding someone – the Prince no less – just because you don't like him."

Unable to retort back, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, the knowledge of his mother being right testing his pride. ". . . I still don't like him," he huffed. He knew his mother had good intentions and that his reasons for not wanting to meet Alfred again were quite pitiful, but the thought of being close to someone so. . . different wasn't an easy thought to process. Unlike him, Alfred was untainted by labour and shielded by palace walls. He never had to worry about money or getting enough food before the winter. And one day, not too far into the future, the title of King will be passed onto him. Sadness tinged Arthur's heart and his anger mellowed out into bitterness. Glancing over at his mother, he sheepishly asked, "So I can't avoid him?"

His mother smiled, her voice gentle when she shook her head and replied, "Your lives will become more entwined than you think. Even if I help you avoid him like the plague, Fate wouldn't allow it." She laughed good-heartedly and combed a hand through her son's pale hair. Arthur made a face, not understanding much of his mother's words and it made his mother smile even more. "Just give him another chance, alright?" she asked.

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur sighed a regrettable, "Fine," and stood up, offering a wry smile to his mother. "I'll go clean up before dinner."

Watching her son walk away, she called out to him when a sudden thought appeared in her mind. "Arthur?"

"Yeah?" His head peeked back around the corner.

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she warned, "Be careful. Make sure to keep your powers hidden. You know what happens when you forget to keep them in check."

". . . Yes, Mother."

Hello there!

Thank you for reading until the end! This is my first Hetalia fanfic so aside from being excited about writing I'm just as anxious about it. I'm a little rusty since it's been a while since I've written a fanfic so forgive me if some parts sound awkward.

Other than that, I hope you like what I've written so far and I would love to hear some feedback! I don't have a beta so let me know about spelling/grammar mistakes since they do tend to slip by despite my countless editing.

I'll try to update soon!