Alfred struggled, feeling the pain of the shackles of his hands. He had been locked up in Arthur's basement ever since he lost at his failed rebellion.
How could he loose? How? He hated to have to free himself from England, but now England had turned into something else. It was his fault. He should of shot England right there when he had the chance, now he was an animal trapped in a cage.
"Damn it all..." He mumbled trying to get the cuffs off his bloody wrist.
England unlocked the door to his basement and headed down the winding steps, going to see how his defeated enemy was doing. He had figured out that Alfred was planning a rebellion against him, and when he did attack, he was ready to fight back. Arthur chuckled to himself, so of course he had won the war, he was one of the strongest nations in the world!
As he turned a corner he saw Alfred, his arms hanging above his head and against the wall in the shackles he had put him in. England stepped in front of him and smirked, "How's my little colony doing?"
America got up in England's face, the shackles on his feet and wrist keeping him from getting any closer. He wasn't sure how to feel. He felt mad, England was now treating him like some prisoner, yet he felt remorse. He knew this hurt England... It hurt him to have to tie him up right? One could hope he is doing this out of fear of losing America again and not doing this for power.
America struggled to free himself, not losing eye contact with the Brit. He was pretty bruised up, his left eye was a bit blackened and his body was covered in cuts in bruises, he ignored most of them though. His tattered clothing wasn't helping covering them up. He growled at England, glaring intensely. "Selfish bastard..." America snarled. England continued to smirk and grabbed America's chin, holding his face next to his own.
"My, aren't you looking at your best right now, all beat up and hanging like a weak little prisoner.." he scoffed. England let go of America's chin and lifted his own leg, kicking him back against the wall. England's forest green eyes shone of pain and grief for a moment as he stared at America, realizing what he had just done, but he then narrowed them angrily, remembering that this nation had tried to separate from him. He turned and walked one way around America, then the other, noticing all the bruises and cuts he was basically covered with.
"You might want to stop trying to get out of here, it's only causing for you to get more injuries. You're going to have to be punished for trying to do so now." England murmured flatly before roughly kicking America in his shin, then on the side of his stomach. America fell to the floor by the second harsh kick, coughing roughly and spitting out a bit of blood which he wiped off with his hand. England had been driven off the deep end by his thirst for power, and having as many colonies as possible would make him stronger. That's why he was determined not to let America go.
America daringly looked up at England, seeing his cold dead eyes sending chills throughout his sore body. He sat up against the wall, trying to catch his breath. England smiled menacingly, seeing how weak America really was, he could barely withstand a few kicks.
"I used to think you were scared to loose me, now I see how it really is..." America snarled then coughed again. "You never cared, you just wanted power!" He snapped at England, his eyes growing fierce with hatred. He knew it would break England's heart to be let go but he hadn't thought about what would happen of he lost. He didn't know what defeat was.
"Scared? Why in god's name would I be scared? Even if I lost to you and you left me I would still be incredibly powerful, but you're right, the main reason I wanted to keep you as a colony is so that I could have your country as an ally, working for me. I never really did care for you.." England laughed.
America spit in England's general direction wanting him to back off, but England merely avoided it. He tugged at the shackles around his wrist again, causing a clanging and clinking sound of the chains. America growled, determined not to give up. This seemed not for freedom anymore, it was for his own safety.
England only moved closer to him and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling America's head up so he could look at him. America groaned. "Look at you, growling like the pathetic animal you are you coward..." England paused and kicked him again, in the side once more. America coughed violently. "And you better stop playing with those chains unless you want me to tighten them." He spat angrily.
"I'm not the coward... You are keeping someone locked up so tight and just using someone. It proves you need me," he snarled. He hated seeing England so darkened, no amount of kicks or punches could be worse then the pain in his heart. But their was no time to feel sad or feel the slightest bit of sympathy for England. This was war.
England frowned, "So you're calling me the coward? I don't think that's true, seeing you're the one that wouldn't shoot me on the battlefield.." He grabbed the chains with one hand so America couldn't move them and continued to hold a handful of his hair up with the other.
"That day I meant you in that field with France and Finland, I wished I would of gone with France you tyrant! " America. screamed with anger, tugging harder at the chains making his wrist bleed. He could only wonder what everyone else was going to do. This wouldn't end well, he knew England was going to start something horrible. Even though England was trying to put on a tough act, when he heard America say he should have chosen France instead of him he loosened his grip on the chains and America's hair, and stared at him, trying not to look shocked. He did have the American in his basement chained up like this, and he was being pretty abusive to him, but England was planning on un-chaining America sooner or later..as long as he didn't try to declare his independence again.
"Every king falls once they get too big, and you're digging your own grave..." he coughed out with a half smirk. England looked down at America, unimpressed. He kicked America down so he was laying face down on the ground, and put his foot directly on his back so he couldn't get up.
"That isn't necessarily true, I'm quite sure that I'm not digging my own grave." England said, rubbing his foot harshly against America's back. America coughed harder when England dug his heel into his back.
He could fight back, he was just too wounded and sore. He was loosing his vision from all the blood he had lost and from the unwrapped wounds. He snarled and sputtered up more blood, letting blood drip from the corner of his lip. He felt a bit cold but he managed to let out a weak smirk.
"What about all your other colonies? You surely don't think they wish to stay with you forever after what your doing to me, and there are other countries willing to help them..." America told England, his voice dry and faint. He had pain in his eyes but a brave look on his face.
England pressed his foot harder down on America's back, "Oh I'm sure my other colonies will stay with me, they really have no idea that I'm doing this to you. You're basically invisible to the world right now America, everyone thinks that we're living in peace. I do treat my colonies well, unless they misbehave like you did. " England rolled his eyes and chuckled, looking down at the younger nation and putting all of his weight on his back. America shrieked a little.
"...You are a tyrant, you know that now... You hear those innocent people crying but you do nothing to help them. It's just about power..." America mumbled, groaning at the pain.
"I'm not a tyrant, and I do help the people of my own country, of course. My country is superior and stronger then others, thus my people get a better treatment then the citizens in other countries."
"Still a tyrant. You may be good to your people, but you treat your others lower class. Trust me, they know I lost so they know what comes next. I have allies you know..." America managed to glare up at England, still groaning in pain.
England shrugged and scowled slightly, "So, what's the difference if I treat my citizens better then the people in other countries? I may help some of the other countries citizens a bit, but they cant expect me to give them the same treatment I give my people, we're far better."
"I'll die before I forgive you, now your becoming too big like Rome did, and we all knew what happened to him..." America snarled trying to push himself back up, forcing England's leg up a bit. England felt America pushing up his leg up a bit so he brought it up then stepped back down on him quickly. America huffed.
"What happened to Rome won't happen to me, I'm far more smarter then that git." England kicked America's head while keeping his other leg on his back, "And I have allies too you know, and they look up to me. I would be able to stop other countries from attacking me if they happened to do so." he said sharply with no emotion in his voice whatsoever.
England was becoming a tyrant. He knew that. Was it America's fault though? Did England even realize what was happening to him? It was like England was blinded by his own hate and greed. . Why would he even go this far to beating and locking America up? Then again, what would England have done other then lock him up for rebelling? He wouldn't just let him go. He didn't understand England's stubborn ways. America didn't understand himself. Was freedom too much to ask for? Or at least forgiveness? It hurt England to see America beat up and defenseless like this, but it was the only way that he could keep him from rebelling against him. America was locked up like an animal that wasn't tame.
"Stop moving, you're only hurting yourself more. It would be better for you to just stay still." England demanded.
"Why do you care if I get hurt more, you have already broken me up..." America mumbled falling back to the floor, not even struggling to get up. His breathe sounded more like a wheeze, and his eyes were dull. "Maybe I will stay still, maybe I'll die and stay still. You'd want that wouldn't you? You probably feel so powerful watching me die slowly..." He wheezed, not bothering to look at the harsh Brit.
England bit his lip and looked down at the American, listening to what he was saying. Did he want America to die? He didn't exactly hate him, if only he hadn't tried to separate from him. He took his foot off America's back and stopped kicking at him, he'd abused him enough for today. "No, I don't want you to die. Watching you die wouldn't make me feel powerful, it would accomplish nothing. Anyways, I still need you." If only America understood his way of doing things, maybe he wouldn't have tried to separate from him.
It was too late for America now. He didn't even bother to fight back anymore what was the point England was going to kill him their anyway. England was probably going to put the world into war, just so he could feel power. He'd probably watch all his people suffer just so he could feel the best. America didn't understand why he thought of England like that now, but the show he was putting on made it very clear how he felt, leaving America to not care for remorse anymore. Not care at the least. There was no forgiveness now. None.
England walked over to the side of America and tightened the chains slightly, making sure that he wasn't able to get away. He turned his back to America, "I'm going to go back upstairs now. I'll check back on you tomorrow."
America watched England then his back to him, and he tugged at his chains again not caring for any blood dripping out of him. He stared at England with cold sharp eyes, glaring him down even though his back was turned away.
"I'll be dead by tomorrow no need to come check on me," America snarled darkly, seemingly full of hate and sorrow. He felt cold on the inside, hating what has become of this. If England didn't want him dead why abuse him? If he still cared in the slightest, why torture him so? It confused America, making him feel more enraged and hateful.
England turned around and glared at America, then kicked him one last time, a smirk back on his face. "Alright, die if you want, but your country will still exist. I don't care what you say, I'll come down to check on you anyways, even if you're dead." After saying that he headed back up the stairs, turning off the lights for the basement before locking the door.
England ordered a servant to make him a cup of tea and sat down in a chair in his living room, waiting for it to be ready. Had he said the right things? Hopefully America had realized that he didn't want him dead, he just needed to get the point across that Alfred shouldn't have separated from him in the first place. Hurting America hurt England, and he wasn't planning on abusing him anymore, he had his fair share of punishment.
The servant soon brought England a cup of tea and he thanked them, before taking a sip. He stared off into space after drinking it all, thinking about what he had just done. Sure, he was probably either the strongest or second strongest nation in the world, but was everything he had done to get there worth it? He remembered all the innocent people he had to kill, how many was it now, a thousand? Five thousand? Ten thousand? England cringed and tried to erase the thoughts in his head, but they wouldn't go away. Power was a good thing, but maybe America was right, what if he got to the point that he had to much power, and collapsed, just like Rome had. England stood up suddenly, his plate and teacup crashing to the floor where they broke into many small pieces. He ignore his servants shocked looks and walked right past them, heading up another floor to his bedroom where he would go to sleep for the night.
America coughed up more blood once England had left, he had been holding it in so it spewed everywhere. He couldn't see anything, the cell was so dark. He couldn't even tell if be was still alive, he just felt so numb. He rolled over on his back, groaning a bit from the pain. He was hurt on every inch of his body. So much pain from the Brit... It wouldn't hurt as bad if he hadn't know or it wasn't England doing it. It was England, the one who raised him and loved him, who was now the one who abused him and looked down on him. That wasn't caring in anyway. Why should he even care about anything anymore, there was no light for him to see anymore. He sighed and coughed. "Better off dead huh?..." America uttered. He hated the fact he couldn't here anything but his own wheezy breath as he attempted to rest. He slightly scared him, the thought of dying. He wanted to do so many things but couldn't do them all tied up like this.
He couldn't do anything without freedom. He assumed it was the price he was forced to pay for trying to be independent. He sighed and hummed a bit, wanting to hear something. He couldn't stand the horrid silence. He felt something wet roll down his cheek. Blood? No it was... It was tears. He hated crying. America hated looking so weak. He always wanted to be a hero, but how could he in his current state? He ended up quietly sobbing himself to sleep, cringing at his pain and making his eyes sore from crying.