And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
"Those British assholes! Why they can't surrender already!" America slammed fists to the table with maps. He looked mad, really mad. President James Madison tried to calm him down.
"Don't forget we have won at Thames and Lake Erie. They are exhausted. Indians no longer support British and we have superiority in Upper Canada. Also… British have two wars to fight."
Alfred Jones smirked. Yeah, that was true. Francis and his Napoleon were really helping him. Arthur was probably at the other side of the Atlantic and he left the fight to his little brother. British settlers had lower supplies.
"Poor, poor Matthew. He really should surrender. I don't want to harm my little baby brother," smiled America.
"Your brother is skilful. We are better than Brits for now, but we can't let them take opportunity to attack. I commanded generals to left you small part of army. Let's prove you are better than your brother. Just be careful and don't fuck it up. Can I relay on you?"
"Yes, mister president!" shouted happily Alfred, "I will do my best! Ha! Canada will be yours in a blink of an eye!"
"Don't be so sure about that," smiled Major General Henry Dearborn. "But I am sure, you will prove yourself. I already have task for you."
"Really? Awesome! Tell me what to do and I will do it perfectly!"
General smiled and pointed to the map.
"I assume you know where the city of York is."
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws
and mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
"No!" whispered Canada and fell on his knees. When he saw completely destroyed city, he looked miserable. He couldn't believe it. His brother! Alfred, with which he played, when they were little!
"My York…"
The government buildings were burnt down. There was only dark smoke and some ash.
"How…?"
Some colonel put a hand at his shoulder. Matthew didn't even recognize him.
"The Americans plundered lots of houses. We weren't prepared… our defense…"
"America!" he let loud sharp cry, which echoed in Canadian forests.
He felt something against Alfred… it was the first time he felt it. When America left them after the war, he was angry but more sad. He felt betrayed, because when they had met before, he had told him:
"See you soon, bro! Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid. I will discuss it with Artie as you said."
But now inside his heart he felt anger. Lots of anger.
"Matthie!" yelled Alfred happily. Matthew almost fell off the bed.
"What is it, Alfred?"
"Arthur! Arthur is coming home!" he shouted and whole house could hear him. Canada jumped out of the bed and sprinted with a speed of light to the door.
"Hello, you two. Nice to see you."
"Brother!"
"America…" he whispered, "you have no idea what have you done."
"Sir?"
He stood up, his face fulfilled with anger and almost madness.
"Call me Major General Robert Ross. I want to talk to him."
And so he spoke and so he spoke,
that lord of Castamere,
but now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear.
"Shit. No, no, no, no, no!" screamed Alfred in horror.
He smelled smoke and burning wood.
Matthew was standing in front of him. He was aiming his gun at him.
"What have you done?"
"Just a little revenge," smiled Canada in delight, "how is it? To see your city burn?"
"You. Fucking. Bastard!" spat Alfred and charged at him with rifle. Canada easily dodged him and kicked him to the back. America nearly fell down, but he quickly attacked again.
They were fighting for a while, but then Canada smirked.
"You know… I have never seen your White House."
America flinched and paled.
"No!" he yelled and raised his gun. Canada did the same.
"I am not your little baby brother and I will never be your territory!" snapped Canada, "this is what happened when you mess with me!"
"I didn't want to fight with you! Britain forced me!"
"Oh really?"
"Yeah! It's not my fault you are on the other side! You are my brother and I love you!"
"You fucking burnt down my York! It was your fault, you had command, and my soldiers have told me! How could you?"
"Casualties happen!"
"Well then…" said Matthew coldly, "what do you think? Will be your White House better when I'll burn it down?"
"Don't you dare!" yelled pale America. He was really scared by dark aura which was coming from Canada. He's never seen him like that.
His brother smiled darkly.
"I think that the Grey House is better name for that ugly hovel."
America charged at him with raised rifle. Canada prepared himself.
"I will not allow it!"
The bayonet stabbed to the wooden stock.
They stopped moving. Both of them stared shocked at each other. They remembered the same thing.
Crying England in rain.
"How could he?" cried England and Canada hugged him tightly. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.
America bowed his gun and he stepped back. Tears were falling from his eyes. Canada stepped back too. He suddenly remembered stormy night when he was hiding under the bed and Alfred was trying to comfort him.
"It will be alright, Matthie! Don't worry, I am with you. I am a hero!"
"England wanted it. He wanted revenge," whispered Alfred, "this is his revenge. You. You helped him."
"I had to."
His voice was shaking.
"Yeah. You had to."
"We all have to do what is right," said Canada and turned back. He knew America won't chase him and hurt him. He just walked away, hiding his face from his soldiers.
White House was on fire. Nobody actually tried to stop it. It was too late.
Revenge was done, but Canada wasn't happy at all. It didn't bring him any joy.
"Grey House is terrible name."
Two centuries later at 24th of August was Arthur Kirkland watching rain flowing down from the window. He smiled briefly. He knew what happened two centuries ago in the United States. He couldn't even tell how happy he was. Sure, Canada was upset but for England it was awesome news.
He put The song of ice and fire away and smiled again. Suddenly song came to his mind.
That satisfying Song was echoing through his empty house.
„And who are you, the proud lord said, In a coat of gold or a coat of red, And so he spoke and so he spoke,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
a lion still has claws
and mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
that lord of Castamere,
but now the rains weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes, now the rains weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear."