December 24, 1814
The room was completely silent, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife. A lone document laid on the table between the three of them, but no one was willing to be the first to touch it.
The fault lies not in America's failed attempt at forceful northward expansion, nor was it Britain's general undermining of his former colony's autonomy. It wasn't even British Canada's arming of Tecumseh's Indian Confederation.
No. The blame lies in the same thing that stayed their pens and words at this very moment.
Pride.
In fact, that was the very thing that prevented Canada from attending. An intentional slight towards his brother, to not allow him to see his twin.
Not that it would've mattered. Alfred couldn't see anything at the moment. Not with those bandages covering the upper half of his face.
"I suppose I'll have to be the mature one, as usual," England sighed with a carefully maintained air aloofness. He wouldn't give America the satisfaction of hearing his true emotions.
'Emotions? Bah, I don't care about this idiot! He can dissolve for all I care! He doesn't want me? Well, I don't want him.'
America said nothing. There was no sign that he'd even heard. His plain looking aide remained solemnly unruffled.
England's expression remained cool. "Trying to make me feel guilty, or some such nonsense? How very childish." He leaned forward, and signed his name with a flourish. "Of course, I expected as much from the likes of you."
Still nothing. The blond's uncharacteristic silence was admittedly unnerving.
England frowned, despite himself. 'Did the fire render him temporarily deaf, as well as blind?'
The aide tapped America's shoulder, and guided his hand over to the paper. America signed with a simple 'A', the tip of his pen almost cutting into the parchment. He apparently felt he'd dallied long enough, because he quickly stood up, and allowed himself to be lead towards the door.
The English Empire suddenly felt an overwhelming mixture of anger and disdain. 'Don't you dare turn your back on me, you ungrateful little cur!' "He hates you, you know."
Alfred froze, head tilted as though to catch every word. England smirked. 'So you can hear me.' He continued his attack, venom dripping freely from every word. "Matthew told me himself just the other day. He'd shoot you as soon as look at you."
None of this was true, of course, but Alfred would never know that.
"He's even decided that-"
SLAM!
Cracks appeared in the plaster around the doorframe. England was left alone with the treaty, malicious words evaporating on his tongue as the anger began to ebb. He only then realized what he'd just done.
'I just shattered the bond between him and the only other Nation he can speak to on this side of the world.'
He shoved the traces of regret into the darkest corners of his mind. 'I don't care,' he reassured himself. 'I don't care if Alfred goes mad, just like I don't care if I never see him again…Damn this dust for making my eyes water.'
He took a deep breath to compose himself, gathering his walking stick and hat as he stood up, leaving the tearstained Treaty of Ghent on the table behind him.
Super short, I know. But this kinda sets the stage for something else I have planned that's a little lengthier. Tell me what you thought in a review, please?
Later dudes. ^J^