Alfred pressed his tiny hand against the glass of the front windows, his sky-blue eyes seeming a little dull and hurt as he watches the walk of the huge house. Down the way, a tall blonde walks on, a child of his own clinging to him. Their frames are silhouetted against the setting sun, the horizon painted orange and gold. A litte bit of a breeze picks up, making the child shiver a little as he dozes in his brother's arms. America watches as the tall man adjusts the child sitting on his arm and leaning on his chest and hugs him a little to keep him warm. The child peers up, his lavender eyes seeing America kneeling on the arm of the chair and staring hopelessly out the window at him. He lifts a sleepy hand to wave at the boy in the window by opening and closing his fingers, giving him a exhausted smile. The pale blonde curl atop his head wavers as his caretaker walks. The tall man turns a little, seeing America himself and smiling, waving a little bit as well before turning back around and almost arriving at their carriage waiting in front of the building.. America makes a little whimper noise as he sees them getting into their carriage to leave again. "Buh-bye…" he whispers, his voice small and sad as he himself waves at them.
Behind him, his big brother and caretaker watches. Despite his absolute loathing for the caretaker of America's little friend it still pained him endlessly when their playful visits had to end. He cared too much for his brother to feel nothing when the long-haired Frenchman would leave with his little brother. One big family with a wedge of past grievances and distance between one another...He wasn't about to taint America's mind with anything this heavy just yet. In time...in time...America was still too young to even understand that goodbyes weren't always forever and whenever Canada would leave with France he would just sit at the window. He'd watch them leave the front doors and then scurry to the windows to watch them walk up the drive and even kneel there on the arm of the chair long after they were gone in hopes of seeing them return. Its when he hears his little brother sniffle that he goes over and stands by the chair arm, to offer comfort somehow. He didn't usually cry at his sibling leaving...
"Are you alright?" he asks, watching the carriage jolt and then start out, the little boy already dozing in the France's arms. Britain turns his head only slightly, giving his brother a little look though the child's face was obscured by his hair at this angle. "Yeah…" Alfred says with a little squeak on the edge of his voice, still not looking away. "Al…are you sure?" Britain prompts, looking over. Another sniffle as he finally looks up to his brother. He looks confused and hurt, like England himself had just told him he was leaving. His eyes are brimming with big tears as the carriage is pulled beyond the gate and then...beyond his line of sight. "Why does he have to leave?" he asks innocently. Britain's covered this question many times about the same situations but he retains his patience and answers again for Alfred's sake. "Because we have our own countries to care for, America. France has his duties and well...I have mine. And someday you'll have yours too. Its just the way things are." he says, tussling the back of America's hair, looking back out the window at the setting sun. The shadows are long and another wind goes through the trees.
America's tiny fingers clench up on the glass. "I know, Britain but...why can't we all just live in one big house? I'm sure this house is big enough!" This question and statement was new and it takes England a bit by surprise. It was obvious by the way he asked it he'd been thinking about it a long time which was a little unusual for him. Britain hesitates before answering this time, trying to think of a legitimate answer to tell him. "Because...we'd always argue and fight and it would never be easy for anyone." he says, trying to word it for a child to understand. "That's a dumb answer. I don't care if its easy or not! We fight too, don't we?" he looks up at his big brother. His big blue eyes are glistening with tears though the look on his face is nothing short than that of a defiant little soldier. If this was the beginning of a rebellious stage Britain wouldn't take any second of it!
"We…" he begins with a slightly raised voice before he thinks, stopping himself to keep from giving too blunt or too grumpy of an answer to this young of a boy. "We may fight, America but...the world's been this way for such a long time that nobody really wants it to change. We're all fine with it going the way it is." he explains, sitting in the chair and moving America onto his leg so he's sitting across his lap. "That's stupid." America says, pouting and squinting his eyes. Britain nods a little, letting America lean over and rest his head on him. "Sometimes it is." he admits, having felt like every nation at one point or another was acting entirely stupid and immature. Now that he thinks about it, he may be guilty of the same crime himself... America opens his mouth and talks. "Someday, I'll get everybody together and try to get everybody to get along! We'll all live in a big house and be awesome friends. We'll all be brothers and sisters and even though we'll fight a little bit sometimes we'll all be ok in the end. And they'll all know it was because I told'em that getting along is awesome and fun.I'll be like…" he thinks a second, his sadness now completely gone and replaced with something else.. "I'll be the World Hero!" he exclaims, his face brightening as he looks up at his brother..
Britain can't help but smile and chuckle at the little one, putting an arm gently around him and hugging him close. However, its not after more than a second that his smile changes into a big yawn. "Tired?" Britain asks, patting the little boy. "Yeah...just a little bit...Me and Matt played tag alllllll afternoon. I won though. He beat me in Hide and Seek though..." he says with a sleepy look in his eye, too tired to give England the entire run down of the afternoon like he usually would have. Britain puts his hands under America's arms and lifts him up, cradling him to his chest and standing up. "Let's get you to bed." he says, gently patting his brother's back. There's a little sigh from America and the little one nuzzles into his brother's shoulder. He was too innocent to be burdened with the world right now… Britain walks down the hall to his tiny sibling's room, carefully opening the door and going in and sitting on the edge of the small bed. He readjusts himself so he can easily pull the blanket down with one hand as he holds the child with the other. He lifts America once more and sits him on his knee. He's asleep, leaning on Britain's arm as he sits.
Britain's eyes soften and he sets lays his brother's head on his pillow, tucking him into his bed and standing up. He pulls the covers gently under the child's chin to keep him warm in the chilliness of night and leans down. He kisses Alfred's forehead, looking down at him with nothing but pride. This little boy was to be his legacy but now...it seems he's built a powerful bond with the young child. If and when the day came where America wanted to leave...would he be ready and willing to watch him go. He stands back up, a kind and yet worried smile on his face. "My little hero…you'll always be my little hero..." he whispers, to both himself and possibly to the sleeping toddler curled up comfortably in his bed. The naive nature of the kid was both funny and heartbreaking. England turns, and walks quietly towards the door, holding the brass knob with a quivering hand. He turns it silently and slowly opens the oiled door open. It makes not a sound and he slips out without drawing any attention. His little hero...for now...and forever…no matter how much things hurt...