Boston, Massachusetts 1694
"Just a little bit more, Al!"
The seven year old, blonde boy egged his twin on. The two boys were trying their best to reach the glass jar of sweets on the shelf in the cupboard. The sweets were brought as a surprise from Arthur. Their caretaker had said they could only have them after dinner but, well, kids will be kids.
Standing on a chair, Alfred tried to reach the shelf harboring the jar of tasty treats, but being seven years old had its drawbacks. Unfortunately, even his go-to 'stand-on-your-tiptoes' approach wasn't working. He stretched a little more, making the wooden chair wobble, wiggling his tiny fingers towards the jar. The jar sat on the varnished shelf completely undisturbed; the swirls made by the glassblower mimicking a facial pattern, almost as if the jar was mocking the two.
"It's no use, Matt", Alfred sighed, "we'll have to get it some other way."
Matthew threw his head back exasperated, his loose baby-soft curls bouncing up and down. Suddenly, his head snapped back, an excited grin replacing the frown on his chubby, cherub face.
"We could use magic!"
Violet eyes sparkled with renewed excitement. A pair of blue eyes matched his expression. Why hadn't he thought of that?
"Oh yeah."
With his confidence returning, Alfred dragged the chair away from the cupboard, scuffing up the hard wood floors in the process. He stood back, held up one hand and concentrated with everything his small body had. After a few seconds of hard concentration, the jar began to quiver. Soon the quivering was replaced with sliding and the boys watched with satisfaction and excitement as their prize slid off of the shelf with ease—and onto the floor.
Sharp, jagged glass flew in different directions like grapeshot. The assorted candy followed the remnants of its prison and scattered the floor, stopping at the boys' feet. Chewing his bottom lip, Alfred slowly turned to his brother.
"Uh-oh."
Quickened footsteps pounded down the hallway, coming to a halt in the kitchen doorway. Arthur, emerald eyes wide, looked from the boys to the mess on the floor. Frustrated, he sighed. Wading through the shards on the floor, he picked the boys up; placing one on each hip and placed them in the hallway.
"Are you boys alright?"
They nodded looking at the floor abashed.
"What were you two thinking? You could have gotten seriously hurt!"
Frantic, Alfred apologized. "We're sorry, Arthur."
Rubbing the bridge of his nose, the Englishman deflated. "It's alright, Lad. Just ask next time, ok?"
Both boys nodded in agreement. Sometimes, magic was a pain in the butt.
Sometime ago, both America and Canada discovered that they had something in common with their older brother, England. At some point in their very short lives, strange things began happening. They began seeing glowing lights in the forest behind the house. The lights were soft in hue and ranged in color from white to purple. They bobbed and weaved; floating atop the rose bushes that lined the perimeter of the backyard and often took the forms of people.
Alfred often said they were nice lights. Except for the dark red one. That was one light you did not want to mess with. Al had claimed the man wore clothes like the people of the Wampanoag tribe and carried a nasty frown.
Alfred had also began spirit traveling. At least that's what he called it. He claimed his body would lie in his bed but his spirit would travel along the wide thickets of Roxbury or Dorchester. He said he once made it all the way to Londonderry, New Hampshire. He said that well after bedtime, he'd watched the townspeople bustling about in their most dashing ensembles on their way to one event or another.
Of course this was a really cool secret so they kept it from their caretakers; adults are no fun.
The following day, Mattie and Alfred stood in their backyard. Down at their feet was a single white daisy. Alfred wasn't quite sure how this had happened. Sure he was trying to grow a flower but he didn't think he actually could.
"How'd you do that?" Mattie asked, curiosity clear on his face.
Alfred shrugged. "I don't know."
Mattie brightened.
"You should put some in the window box!"
Agreeing, the boys hurried inside and over to the flowerbox facing the front yard. The roses Arthur had planted last spring had become wilted and brittle in the winter. They had to be removed and this seemed the perfect place to practice this new ability.
Training his mind on the soil, he tried to conjure another daisy, or any plant for that matter. After a few moments, the brown bit of earth still sat motionless in the confines of its white box.
"Why isn't it working?" Mattie questioned.
"This dirt feels different than the dirt outside. It feels kind of empty."
"Why?" Mattie asked again.
Biting his lip, Alfred looked around the room. Why would the dirt feel different? What was different between this dirt and the dirt outside? Finally, he made a realization.
"It's not in the ground!" He grinned, proud of his detective skills. He felt like the man from those 'Sherlock Holmes' books Arthur read all the time.
Studying the box, Mattie agreed. It lacked magic or at least it only had a minimal amount. Not enough to draw from. When they were outside there was always an energy that seeped from everything, differing from one thing to another. The window box, however, felt dead. Like the bird Francis used to have that flew into a closed window.
Arthur came into the room shrugging on his coat.
"Ah, there you two are. I have to go into town for a bit. You two behave for Miss Alexis."
The two nodded and watched as he walked out of the front door. Their nanny, a young girl dubbed Alexis, was a nice girl. Truly. She was just a horrible babysitter. Alexis had the tendency to fall asleep for hours or get lost in one of her novels. Thus, allowing the tiny colonies to do as they please.
Like clockwork, Miss Alexis arrived and fell asleep shortly after turning page 3. Once the coast was clear, the boys made their way down the wooden stairs to the basement. Amongst the mildewed blankets and jars of preserves were several wooden boxes overflowing with books. The texts ranged in sizes, color and length. A few of the books were in languages like Latin, Romanian, Norwegian and others that the boys could not identify.
Arthur had once said these books were not to be touched but as far as they were concerned they needed to learn how to use their gifts, right? So on the occasions when Arthur was out for the day, the North American brothers buried themselves in his magic texts trying to absorb as much as they could.
Alfred sat criss-cross on the cold floor, a thick tome open in his lap. Matthew lay next to him, some of Arthur's stationary laid out in front of him, scribbling furiously in his childish scrawl while Alfred read to him.
"This rune is generally used for the protection of loved ones and places of value such as a house or body of land", Alfred recited, "No, Mattie. Like this."
The young scholar corrected his brother, adding a notch to the end of the drawing which resembled a wide pitchfork.
"Hey, Alfred, do you think we should put a protection spell on Arthur?"
"Probably, but the book says you have to infuse magic into the runes. What do you think that means?"
Matthew shrugged. Magic was hard to understand. He hoped they got the hang of it soon. Picking up another book, Alfred cracked it open and, after a few moments of reading, grinned with delight.
"Hey! This book says we can make a thing called a sachet. It says all we have to do is something that holds stuff and put the magic plants in it. Then we just think about what we want."
A sudden scuffle upstairs caught their attention. They quickly threw the books into a pile, tossed an old blanket over them, and ran up the stairs. They sat at the kitchen table just as Arthur walked in. He stopped and gazed at the twins.
"What were you two up to?"
"Nothing", they chimed.
Piercing green eyes stared at them for a few moments longer before accepting their answer.
"Alright. Go get washed up for dinner. I think I need to have a long talk with your nanny."
Days had passed since the twins' afternoon in the basement. Francis had returned to pick up little Matthew. They sat on the floor of the parlor while Arthur and Francis bickered over something or other.
"Hey, Al, can you teach me to grow flowers?"
Alfred nodded and the two ran out into the yard, unnoticed by their brothers.
Soon they were back to trying their hand at gardening. Alfred began reaching out to the energy around him and pulling it up, causing a daisy to sprout at his feet. And then another. And soon a few more. Creating the flowers was beginning to get easier.
Soon there were daisies all over the yard, but within a few minutes Matthew began to notice something was wrong. More flowers began growing and soon vines began wrapping themselves around the trees, creeping from the branches and covering the back of the house in green.
Alfred began to panic. He could still feel his magic funneling into the brown earth beneath his tiny feet. He tried to pull it back but couldn't get a grip on it. He wasn't sure what to do. He feared if he didn't stop, the whole house might be devoured by the forest around them. With Arthur inside. Frozen, Alfred did the only thing a kid could do in this situation. He threw his head back and began to wail.
Matthew, being slightly more level-headed than his brother quickly ran into the house, skidding into the living room. The two nations looked up in surprise, still not having noticed the boys had gone.
"Something's wrong with Alfred!"
Panicked, Arthur ran for the door while Francis soothed Matthew. Stepping out into the sunlight, his breath caught. There, with large, fat tears rolling down his chubby cheeks, was Alfred, amongst hundreds of flowers. Arthur took notice to the flowers and vines still growing at a leisurely pace. He was stunned. Since when did the boy have magic?
He sighed and scooped up the child. He sent out his own magic, breaking the weak hold his boy had. He could hear the footsteps behind him and the gasp that followed. In the doorway, with Matthew in his arms, stood Francis; both gaped at the mess of foliage that covered the house.
Arthur rocked a sobbing Alfred in his arms, rubbing his back in hopes of quieting the distraught child.
"Shush now, poppet. What happened?"
Unfortunately, all that emerged from the boy's mouth was a slur of indiscernible words...and a spit bubble. He quickly dampened the dish towel and wiped the boy's face.
"Now hush and tell me what happened. What have you two been up to?" The answer he received was muffled through the dish cloth but was audible this time.
"I was showing Mattie a trick." He whimpered. Arthur sighed and stood stern.
"The trick with the flowers?"
He nodded.
"Why did you two not tell me about your magic?"
The boy shrugged knowing he was in deep water with his guardian.
"Alfred."
The tiny colony paused before answering.
"Cause then you wouldn't let me do it no more!"
The Brit sighed as he sat the boy in a kitchen chair.
"Alfred, sometimes magic is unpredictable and dangerous. Just like going out by yourself or running in the house. I make rules for you two because you're still babies."
He held up a hand stopping the colony from going on about being a big boy. In comparison to England and France, they were very much babies and would be for a long time.
"That out there is a perfect example. You have not been taught how to use magic, lad."
"But we've been reading your books!"
Matthew chimed in from behind. Alfred glared at him while Arthur's frown deepened.
"You two know you're not allowed down in the basement!"
"Arthur, they're just kids."
He looked at Francis and sighed. Little shits was more like it. He kneeled down in front of the pair.
"Do you promise to only look at the books I say is ok for you to look at?"
The twins nodded.
"Do you promise to ask before you practice?"
They nodded again. He kissed their foreheads and lifted Alfred and Matthew onto each hip as Francis held the door open.
"Alright, love. Show me how you make the flowers grow."