Believe
England is trapped by his undeniable emotions for America but has a deep mistrust for Alfred leaving him in the events of the Revolutionary War. Chained and bound to his own subconscious, America must find him and fix the problems he has caused within the depths of Arthur's mind. He must defeat the secret hate, fear and mistrust that manifest themselves as different sides of England's personality.
Prologue
It's your eyes, you know
They stole my heart
And stopped my soul
I swiftly caught you
And brought you low
Please, forgive me
Your pain's my woe
I will not stop you
For now, I know
"I love you Arthur!" Alfred screamed at the top of his lungs.
He and Arthur had been shouting at each other for hours now. There really was no reason for this particular skirmish except that they both had pent up feelings and didn't know how to demonstrate emotion without fighting. It was like a bad default setting for the beginning of a cool videogame, Alfred thought. Their "special" relationship was like a predictable novel and Alfred was tired of knowing how his nights would end.
The sun would set, the moon would rise and he would stand before the most beautiful man in all of existence, inches away from each other's faces, blood rising in their cheeks but yelling, screaming, spitting at one another. That was defiantly not how Alfred would have hoped a long day's work would come to a close.
Arthur was the love of Alfred's life. He would do anything for him, Alfred realized. He loved everything about Arthur from his unusual eyebrows to his dark and jaded past and hoped that they could build an endlessly bright future together.( It only took him 250 years to realize that.) Alfred was quite the romantic sometimes, and he considered himself Arthur's personal knight in shinning armor. He couldn't really help it though with all the Hollywood movies he watched.
But here they were. Again. With the same shit that they had been doing for months. Anyone could understand that Alfred just wanted to get to the point already and these silly brawls weren't helping them progress as an item. Panting and out of screams, Arthur blinked, confused and vulnerable at the American's blunt confession, like a English angel to Alfred, but it was a fleeting action for he then gave Alfred the grimmest smirk that he had ever seen.
Then he laughed.
That English bastard laughed!
Not just laughed, but he threw his head back in a cruel and hearty cackle.
As quick as the sound reverberated in Alfred's skull, he snapped his jaw shut and studied Alfred with cold emerald eyes and a twitching smile, looking him up and down in an almost disgusted fashion. He spoke through clenched teeth and a narrowed gaze and said something that strangled Alfred's veins and took the breath from his soul.
"I don't believe you."
Alfred's jawbone slackened and his brow scrunched up in utter shock. He floundered for an answer, a comeback, anything. But all that came out was the most pitiful puffs of air and a tiny whine.
"Arthur… I-I really do love you. I-I…" Alfred tried breathlessly.
"That's quite enough, boy. What would you know of love anyhow?" Arthur countered, looking older than Alfred had ever seen him.
And with that Arthur turned and walked up the stairs to his old manor with clenched fists and solid step. With that he left Alfred with weak knees and a broken heart in the middle of the foyer.