"Well, Canada, we had a pretty awesome day today! I'll see you in the morning."

America turned around with goodnight smile to his brother. America, also known as Alfred, was a young, fresh man. He had trimmed blond hair, rectangular glasses, and a cocky grin. His aviator jacket was is a pile on the couch, his blue button down shirt wrinkly and his red tie untied, hanging around his neck.

"Ha, I'd say so... it was pretty funny when France got that rose completely tangled up in his hair,eh?"
The man who replied look almost exactly like America, but with longer hair that had a single curl, and wearing his favorite blue sweatshirt. His voice was much softer, almost childlike in comparison. He smelled like maple-syrup.

"Wait...How did you know that? You weren't at the Allies meeting today!"

"America...yes I was." Canada, who also went by Matthew, replied with a miserable tone. Canada never drew attention. "I was right next to you the whole time."

"Uhm...I totally knew that." America awkwardly adjusted his maroon suspenders and Canada just put his hands in his sweatshirt's pouch. "But, uh, none-the-less, it's still been a long day. I'll see you in the morning. Can't wait to eat breakfast!"

Just as America turned down the hall to go to his bedroom, Canada called out. "Wait... America? I have a question to ask you... that is, if you don't mind, I mean."

America turned around to face him and kindly said "Sure, dude. What's up?"

"Well... it's just..." Canada shifted his glasses and seemed to have a sudden interest in the floorboards. "... today, at the meeting, you and England had a fight..."

"What's new? We fight all the time." America chuckled a bit. "What else am I supposed to do when he tries to criticize my eating habits?"

"Well, it's not that. I know you guys don't get along very well... and everyone knows what happened with the Revolutionary War you two had... but... sometimes, when England thinks no one is looking, (because he doesn't notice me, of course) he kinda gives you these quick little glances... or sometimes he'll stare at you funny for a second or two. And they always seem... sad. Or something. I'm not sure how to explain it. How come?"

America's expression went from his normally upbeat one to a more serious one. "Are... you trying to ask me about my past?"

Canada blushed and nodded his head once, still looking at the floor. "I-if you don't mind, of course."

America sighed, took his glasses off, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Then he sighed once more, and his smirk returned. "Will you make me some coffee? I'll only tell you if you do. Three sugars please. Oh, and maybe microwave one of my burgers for me? I'm hungry."

America and Canada where now sitting in the living room, a quaint room with a couch and a flat-screen TV. America was sitting next to his aviator jacket, which he had tossed aside so Canada could sit at the opposite end of the couch.

"So," America said, sipping his coffee out of his special mug- it had the American Flag on it. "What exactly did you want to know?" He took a huge bite out of his burger.

"W-well..." Canada started. "I mean, everyone knows that you fought for your freedom-"

"And earned it." America said proudly through a full mouth.

"R-right. But... what happened... that made you so upset? I mean, I guess that's just what I don't understand. Why does England hate you so much now?"

America swallowed and looked down into his coffee cup. "I wouldn't say he hates me..."

"Oh, no! No no no no, that's not what I meant at all! It's just-"

"Canada, chill. I was just messin' with ya. You're so polite!" America patted him hard on the shoulder with a hardy laugh, which kinda hurt. But Canada wasn't about to say anything. America finished laughing, and looked at Canada as he wiped his eyes. Canada was just staring, waiting quietly for America to continue on with his story. "Oh… you're serious about this, huh?"

Canada gently nodded his head again.

America wiggled a bit in his seat, and put down his burger. Canada instantly knew that this was serious. "Well... I remember when I was a small, young little country- I don't even think I was a country yet. I was just thirteen colonies. I grew up really fast- and I had plenty of people visiting me. Spain, France... but when England came, he was always my favorite. He always asked me how I was, always asked me if I was eating enough, if I was prospering...He seemed like he cared about me. And I… he was my big brother, you know."

America paused, and Canada nodded to show that he was paying attention.

"England liked being a big brother, I guess. He had watched over me while I was young. I was okay with that. He told me what to do, and I did it. I was even allowed to do my own things that he didn't approve of, and he still allowed me to do it. After a while, England decided that he had power over me. And at the time… I was young, you know? I always loved it when he visited me...When I was a little older, we would trade a lot of stuff. He would bring me tea (which I like at the time… there wasn't anything like soda back then, you know) and I would give him tobacco or sugar something. I made him proud. I impressed him." America paused again, and it was his turn to find interest the floor boards. "I was making him wealthy too, at least a little bit." He muttered.

"America-a? I-I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."

America looked back and Canada and smiled. "Nah, sorry. It's nothing. I've never really discussed this before. It's kinda nice. Plus, you did want to know." He took a huge slurp of coffee.

"Yup! This is really great coffee! Ha, anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Economics, that sorta thing. I doubt he realized it then, but I wasn't always fond of the way England would trade with me. He said I couldn't trade with anyone else. If I did, I had to do it through him." America rolled his eyes. "He started to care less about me... and more about all the stuff I had gave him. It made me feel used, or something. And as I got older, there were just more and more things I started noticing that I didn't like about him. I began to stand up for myself, but then he just would strengthen his control over me. The England I had once admired... had changed."

"What did you do?" Canada asked almost silently after a long pause.

America took another loud, long slurp of coffee and smirked. "That's when I began to really stand up for myself. I didn't follow his rules, I ignored his control over me, and I started dreaming. I was often having dreams of what I thought was the perfect government, how I would do things if I were in control." America snickered. "How much more awesome I would be than England. He was treating me unfairly, and eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore. I refused to take his oppression, his tyranny! So I started to..."

Canada sat there quietly as America grew louder and louder. No wonder he was such a show-off, being the "hero" all the time. He was so passionate as he began to talk about his dreams. His blue eyes smiled and swelled with emotion. This thing with England meant a lot to him.

"And then, finally, came the Revolutionary War. And the rest, as they say, was history. I was my own hero." He said, beaming, seeming to forget how upset he was a few minutes ago.

Canada smiled back. "That's great, Alfred. I'm happy you're here. Th-thank you... for everything tonight. Now, might I be excused?" Canada yawned.

"Wattya you asking me for?" America replied with a cocky smirk. "Seeya in the morning, Matt!"

The two countries went their separate ways. America went down his hall and quickly went up the stares, into his bedroom, the walls plastered with various versions of the American Flag, red white and blue everywhere. He looked at his bed, but went out to his balcony instead.

He looked across the pond, and saw the faint outline of a house far away. It was England's house. America started somberly, propping his tired head up with one hand, leaning again his railing. He sighed, his formerly happy disposition now melancholy. It was true that he was very proud of his accomplishments… but remembering the way England used to be made him depressed. He thought back to the Revolutionary War. Seeing England fall to his knees…
"I guess I didn't really answer Canada's question, huh? What happened to you, England? I don't understand...But all I know is that you aren't a big brother to me anymore. And no one ever will be again..." He turned to go back into his room, but just as he was about to enter, he took one last look to the faint outline of a house on the eastern horizon. "…Goodnight, Arthur."

-
Across the pond, England was standing on his front porch in his gown and night cap. He saw a sparkle out of the corner of his eye to see a fairy fluttering by his head.
"Oh, ello Pixie. Ah, it's nothin'. I just can't fall asleep. I've got some things on my mind. Shoo, Pixie, shoo, leave me be."

Naturally, he wasn't actually talking to anything at all….But don't tell him that. Once the "Pixie" had left, he took a stroll down to the pond. It was a nice night out, but as he walked, distant memories haunted him.

'After all, England, I want freedom.'

'What happened to you, England? You used to be so great.'

Thoughts from that night still bounced around in his head from time to time. Why he was thinking of the past right now, he didn't know, but he wished he wasn't. That's why he couldn't sleep. The Revolutionary War was something that he desperately wished had never happened, but even his magic couldn't turn back time…Just as he reached the water's edge, he saw a light go off in distant house across the pond, towards the west.

"Ah," he whispered quietly, mournfully. "Good night, Alfred." Just as he had done every night since he and his little brother had first met.