Disclaimer: Characters (and England's dream, pretty much) belong to Hidekaz Himaruya. Not me.
Eventually
"Engwand…" Arthur looked up groggily, eyes opening to the sight of a terrified child. Sensing what had happened, his gaze dropped to the object in Alfred's hands. With a sigh, he stuck one arm out from under the blanket and took the horror novel from him.
"I told you not to read it." He said, too tired to properly scold the young boy. Even so, America cast his eyes downward in shame. He remained beside his guardian's bed though, waiting for an answer to his unspoken question. England rolled his eyes. "I guess there's no helping it." The older boy remarked, letting the book drop as he moved to the other side of the bed in order to make room. America eagerly leapt into the bed, crawling under the covers and moving as close to Arthur as possible. Muttering a warning for Alfred to stay on his own side, England closed his eyes. Two hands clamped down on his arm, seeking comfort and safety from the unknown terrors of the darkness. With a small smile on his face, Arthur slowly fell asleep.
"Hey, England, I will choose liberty after all." What…What was going on? Where was the little boy he used to know? Instead there was a man before him, musket in hand. A musket aimed at him. When had Alfred become like this? When? "I'm no longer your child, or your baby brother. From now on…I'm independent." Arthur looked up at the blond, blinking blood and dirt from his eyes. Or…was it really just blood and dirt? When no response came, America continued fiercely. "Acknowledge it!" He yelled. All of a sudden England was up; musket pointed directly at the boy…man…who had once, once, been his little brother.
"You always were so naïve, you fool…" Arthur spat, mixed emotions on his face. Alfred had no retort, simply staring at him. A few moments passed before he spoke again. "T-there's no point in firing…is there…Fool…" The musket fell to the muddy ground, followed by England. The tears that had been so obvious in his voice started falling as he cursed the situation. "Damn it…why, damn…" Where…where…where had he gone wrong?
"England…" America started to say, so many emotions apparent in his eyes as he looked down at the wreck that had once been his older brother. Anger, sadness, loss…and the two that England hated the most when he saw them: disappointment and pity. "You used to be…so big…"
Arthur woke up with tears running down his cheek. Images from his strangely vivid dream flashed across his mind, making him sick. Worried, he looked towards the sleeping Alfred (who still held England's arm in a death grip). Assured that the child was still his same, innocent self, Arthur let his head fall back onto tear-stained pillow. Despite the early hour, he was finding it difficult to fall back asleep, as though some part of his brain was rebelling against the idea of letting him dream of something like that again. Instead, England found solace in wrapping his arms around his little brother, protecting him from whatever figures were haunting his dreams.
He knew it couldn't last, this time they had together as something like a family. It was short and simply had to end eventually. Children had to grow up someday. They had to go out into the world, learn to think for themselves.
They had to become…independent.
A/N: My first fic in a very long time. And it's still uber short. Oh yeah, if the paragraph's aren't indented, I have an excuse: My tab key is broken. The original author's notes thing for this says "Pity Arthur! D:" Review, please!