The chapters for this will vary greatly in size. It should be updated frequently during the summer.
Full Summery:
When Alfred is taken by General Winter's pawn, Ivan, his brother Matthew comes to the rescue. As Matthew leads a crusade across the Americas to Europe and into Russia, Alfred has to deal with Ivan. Alfred can sense something in Ivan that's in him too but, he can't figure out what it is. As Ivan and Alfred grow closed, so does Matthew. Will Matthew get there before it's too late or might he get there too early? The only romance that might be put into this fic is AmeRuss. England, Canada, and France will be bigger characters on one side and Russia, America, and General Winter will be big characters on the other side. This fic will alternate between two places. The alternating chapters will be in order; no anachronisms.
Prologue
An army with armor of rust marched over the once green and fertile fields. The beat of the stomping feet was a constant, echoing over the country side for miles. An army of this magnitude had never before been seen. As they marched, the soldiers ignored the peasants joining their ranks in order to cheat death choosing instead to look forward toward their destination.
A young boy ran through the legions of soldiers, his blue sailor outfit not even earning him a passing glance. As the boy moved inward, the armor began to pick up a deep red hue. The boy found who he was looking for and threw himself into a soldier of higher rank with armor as red as blood. Much of the soldier's features were hidden behind a helmet, but the huge eyebrows and venom green, forest emerald eyes still showed. In his haste, the young boy never noticed that instead of lines, this group was marching in a circle formation.
"You jerk Arthur! You said you would always be there for me; you said I could always stay by your side!" the boy exclaimed, tears coming unbidden. "I thought you were my big brother. I trusted you . . . I loved you and you left me. YOU LEFT ME! One day you were just gone. That's not what family does . . . that's not . . . that's not what brothers do." The boy could continue no longer as sobs racked his body sending tremors throughout the whole of him.
The army's leader, a man wearing armor famed for its red color gotten from soaking it in the blood of his enemies, gave the soldier who the boy had attached himself a glare, clearly commanding him to get rid of the boy. The soldier gave a curt nod and pushed the boy, his brother and the one that looked like the child from America he loved dearly, away. The force of it sent the boy to the ground. The boy watched in shock as his brother kept marching. Finally realizing what happened, he curled into a little ball, hugging himself and crying. The boy was unable to see the tears silently coursing down the soldiers face and could not hear the whispered "I'm sorry".