The Road to Freedom

Authors: Manic Misha and HetaWolf.

Fandom: 2P Hetalia.

Characters: Matt, Al, and Oliver.

Chapter 1

Al had just entered the age of his lower teens, a new age of puberty had just sliced along his vocal chords and made his higher voice drop a few octaves. Matt seemed to begin a lot earlier, already having the scruff of facial hair on his chin! Al always seemed insignificant, but he simply stared in the mirror and poked at his chin wishing for himself to be as manly as Oliver's more adored Canadian.

Oliver was observing the boys as they aged, he knew that their natural desire to move out and explore the world would come to fruition. He noticed that Matt had developed quicker than the other failure that he considered, Al. The boy had come into puberty quite late compared to his brother. Oliver also noted that Matt definitely had more of a spine than the coward that was Al. Hell the child had bouts of pissing his trousers when he was young, and it made him enraged and laugh at the same time. He didn't piss his pants anymore, but more often than not he would cower away when he was disciplined by Oliver, instead of facing his punishment like a man.

Al stood in the mirror and looked at a few acne spots and crooked teeth. Puberty was apparent in him, he even so much as closed the door to lift up his shirt and see if he even had any hair on his chest. He certainly had grown quite a bush on his privates, and that was something he was very proud of. Despite it not being very hairy at the moment, he wanted to impress himself and become the man he always wanted to be. Crimson eyes inspected and looked at every part of him in the single mirror that resided in the house, there wasn't much light in this day and age. He breathed out, wishing that one day he could stop investigating himself to see if he had become better than his own older brother.

Oliver was inspecting the house for any signs of the younger male. He was rather concerned about the fact that Al desired to be alone to himself. He was worried that the boy was going to rebel against him and he knew the first way for a young boy to do that was to discover himself. The key to keeping his imperfect pet was to keep him ignorant or to break him. Of course, breaking the teen would be a dirty, a messy, and an inexperienced affair. In all honesty it would be far easier than trying to keep the teen uneducated.

Al heard the light footsteps through the house, and half of him had an urge to hide—but this was an old timey bathroom. Where the hell would he go? What if he wasn't doing anything wrong at all?

Nevertheless, he stood still as he stared in the long mirror that would wiggle and rotate with movement. He wasn't infatuated with himself, but he would spend a lot of time in the mirror. Matt wouldn't play with him, and certainly Oliver wasn't one for it— but one person he did have was himself, and if he could see himself then he would always have a friend.

"Al, poppet..." Oliver's voice finally rang out in a sickeningly sweet way, almost as if a mother was trying to call her child out from hiding after a fierce thunderstorm. "Come now lad, I haven't seen your ... cute face in some time." He strained at the term cute, his face was riddled with imperfection now and his teeth were tolerable; however, the blemishes on his face were deplorable. More often than not, the home Oliver lived in would groan and creek with every footstep on the old wooden floors. Oliver had gone to search the home for the little bastard, it was time for lunch, a growing teen needed nourishment.

Al looked into the mirror and held it close, staring at his own reflection. "... Should I go to him?"

He pouted, almost half-heartedly expecting the image to answer. He looked toward the sound of footsteps, and despite the rolling pit of his stomach clenching for food Oliver knew it wouldn't be worth it in the end. He merely would have to run into the woods later and steal some apples.

Eyes met with his own reflection again, "Maybe if I come to him this time, I'll be considered good?" Although his rebellious thoughts were turning, he certainly didn't want to handle another beating anytime soon.

"Al,… Lunch is getting cold. If you don't come out soon,..." Oliver grinned as he gripped the leather belt around his waist. He was actually enjoying the cowering teen. A rebellious child had to be disciplined! By any means necessary. He also loved having this power over a person; it gave him a sense of control, something that was taken away from him when he was defeated by France.

He was listening now as he lightened his step. Like a feline he lightly toed among the solid floorboards to prevent any sound. He was listening for the soft shallow breaths of the tan little teen that was in his home. He paused, hearing a faint noise, it sounded like a whisper but he couldn't be so sure, the birds were causing a ruckus outside.

"You have till the count of three poppet. Don't make me come find you." He threatened as he kept alert for any noise or movement.

Al wasn't sure how to handle this at all. The stress! The pressure! The rules! He beckoned to hide, but he had to admit he was desperate for attention besides that of a cold mirror. He quickly darted out of his own hiding place and into the hallway before Oliver could finish counting to three. He was wearing brown slacks with an egg white button down that matched with old timey suspenders. That stupid hair on top of his head always hung a little in his eyebrow, only as he looked to Oliver and nodded. "Ready—!"

He choked on his words, "Sorry I'm late,…" He had no idea where his apology came from, but his accent was mixed with British undertones and that of his Cherokee tongue, his pronunciation was different.

He walked cautiously to Oliver.

"Ah poppet! I was getting concerned." He spoke as he saw the boy appear from the bathroom down the hall. He smiled at the teen before him. He looked at his clothes, fairly unstained; he looked at his hands, that inharmonious face, his hair. They were all clean much to his displeasure.

"You're actually presentable for lunch." His voice rang in a surprised tone. Usually the child was a mess and deserved punishment, but at this moment, on this day, he had prevented the sadistic Brit from punishing him. 'Dammit' he thought for a moment, 'maybe at dinner tonight?' Hopefully at dinner. He didn't want this mutt of a human being to get any slack.

Al nodded, "Yes, sir..." He always had to refer to his father as that or a simple 'yeah' would get him punished. Eyes were cautious as he walked past him down the stairs to the dining table. His shoulders were broadening, and as he walked past England, what was this? The nation was as tall as he was. Al paid no mind, not wanting to look him in the eye. A growth spurt had hit him, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last one.

'When had the bastard mutt got as tall as me?' He was looking at the teen as he passed him and he looked at how thick he was getting. "If it wasn't for that deplorable face of his." He muttered to himself as he waited till the colony was on the stairs and then he commenced to walk behind him.

As he watched the obedient creature sit down at the table, he couldn't help himself. He was imagining what he could possibly look like without the loose clothing on his body. He stifled the urge to lick his lips at the thought.

"Al,…" Oliver approached the table that Al was sitting at and sat on the opposite side so he could face the teen. The tone seemed casual, but it had a venom lining it as if he was testing the lad, trying to see if he could get the little pup he had raised to start baring his teeth. "What were you doing upstairs?"

"Playing with my imaginary friend" Al spat, Oliver had heard this ridiculous notion many times, but had no idea that he ever played with that particular mirror.

It was Al's excuse to be blunt, to answer the question, and hopefully not be asked about it later. He stared down at the empty spot for the plates, wondering to offer to get Oliver's for him. 'Yeah! That's a great idea. Then he can eat the same shit that he laces. Good job Al. Independence.' He beamed a small smile at his plan, that stupid tooth in his future wasn't quite gone yet. It was just crooked.

"You want me to get you a plate, England?"

"Why certainly if you'd like." Oliver smiled a coy smile. He sat there and observed the overexcited child before him.

Oliver noted that his demeanor had completely changed which meant that the young colony before him had a plan or some devious thought. He was grinning at the naïve child. Did he honestly believe he would lace the food he had prepared for lunch? How many times would Al attempt to poison him, certainly he had realized that he had built up immunity to the drug.

"Make sure to get the correct china, will you?" He asked as he preened himself to make sure he looked presentable.

Al nodded, thinking he was being sneaky and had it all figured out. He reached up to pull the plate from the cupboard as he asked Oliver what he wanted, following his command, he leaned down and attempted to get everything right. With no idea where Matt was off too, he brought it back to the table and laid it before his father figure while he leaned down and gave him an unexpected kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for dinner, pops."

He rang a chime to his pitch, certainly the gruff undertones of his growth spurt kicked in as he spoke. He walked back, not having kissed Arthur on the cheek, unless he demanded it, in ages.

There was certainly something amiss— Al went back to his own plate making, the lean twirl of his hips showed he would certainly be growing out of those clothes soon, the waistband was tightened while the rest of the clothing hung off him like a hanger.

He only got a small portion of each item, and sat back at the table as he halfway wanted to ask where his brother was.

"Oh, what a wonderful surprise." He spoke as he smiled softly from the kiss. He almost shuddered at the voice Al was growing into. If Al's voice could be similar to Matt's deeper voice, he might be able to get over those appalling blemishes on his face, especially if he could make that voice cry out for him.

"Al, dear you should eat some more, you will never be able to get any muscle onto that frame of yours without protein." Oliver spoke as he took a hearty bite of the food he had prepared.

"Do you like it? It's from the large deer Matt ended up hunting for us a few days ago." He spoke in a nonchalant manner. He could tell that Alfred didn't enjoy eating the meat that was often served. He would watch as the boy took each tiny bite of the protein and the inner struggle it caused him and Oliver reveled in that pain.

"I'll need to take your measurements soon; you shouldn't look like a pauper when you're growing into a young man." Inwardly smiling he locked eyes with the colony before him. In all honestly he wanted America nude, bare before him with nothing to hide so he could savage that beautiful land and infect it with impurity.

Al stared at his plate; he had never eaten much since Oliver had poisoned the food that one time. He never could tell if it was poisoned again, but he had some major trust issues with himself and his body. He took tiny bites, hating the gamey taste as he ate his vegetables with no problem. To his own dismay, he forgot all about his plan earlier with Oliver, realizing being nice now and then might not hurt him.

Pauper? The fuck. He has was a nation and didn't care how he dressed at the moment. Not wearing a fucking suit- Certainly no bow ties. No way.

As if he ignored everything England was ranting about, he spoke up. "Speaking of Matt, where is he now?" pouting even, missing his only comrade in this crazy household.

"Come now poppet you can have seconds." He spoke encouraging the scrawny thing to at least have a full lunch before he would run off to god knows where. He wanted that colony to have a little meat on his bones; he didn't want to beat a skeleton! Where's the fun in that? You can't take time to watch the bruises slowly form into horrid dark marks on the skin and then slowly heal until they disappear completely and require a new set to be made.

Yes, scars were a real treat! They would glint and shimmer in the sun, the tissue devoid of any texture, but it was hard to scar a colony that requires a lot of effort and skill. The damn teens heal so fast! He was enamored at the thought of scarring up Al's back leaving lasting reminders of how the first nation was to conqueror that pure land.

"Oh? Matt?" Oliver snapped back into reality at the name of his favorite. "He told me he wanted to go hunting again today. I also asked him to try and find a nice stash of hardwood for the fireplace." He had become aroused at the thought of Al's screaming body begging for mercy as Oliver stood above him. He willed the arousal away as he continued to eat a few more pieces of the meat. "You should really ask your brother to help you hunt, Al." Oliver said as he smiled sweetly at the colony.

Al had to twist a smile. Little to Oliver's knowledge, Matt had already taught him how to hunt. They'd go off together when Oliver was away on business. He had remembered when he killed his first squirrel. Al cried like a baby, only injuring it to the point Matt forced him to put it out of his misery. In his memories, they sat over a small fire as he taught him how to open up the small creature. From this point on, Al swore he had to be vegetarian. There was a lot going on in those animals,...

He simply nodded, "I hope he does." Al played stupid, knowing he couldn't lie at all, but playing stupid came naturally to the teenager.

Eyes set onto the plate as he took a few more small nibbles, the bony collarbone peaked a little from his collared shirt. A few scratches from playing imprinted in his arms, but that distinct bruise over his hand was the most noticeable even on his tan skin. In their studies, Oliver would whack his hand and a ruler like the old school Catholics.

"Oh, Al, won't you eat more?" Oliver encouraged, he was secretly thankful that the teen refused to eat much, many of the poisons he would use to torture the boy would make him vomit if he ingested too much, and easily enough starchy and sweet vegetables would cover the flavor of the poisons easily. More often than not he would make sure not to poison the meats he would serve— he didn't want to poison Matt. If he would, he could lose his hunter, and to lose his hunter would be that he would have to actually buy meat.

"I may have you break down some of the wood he brings home for kindling." He was looking over to the small stove that he used to cook on. "Also, tomorrow I will need you to go to town and pick up a few things."

Oliver had a plan for the teen. He was defiantly going to get rid of the disgusting blemishes on his face before he left, and what better way than with a gorgeous brand new silver straight razor?

Al ate quietly in the awkward silence. The silence was always over the dinner table, but other parts of the household remained the same atmosphere. It was dooming him into the point he couldn't find the courage to eat another bite, but he forced himself. He knew he had to survive as a country and eating is one of those things. Al nodded, looking to the wood pile. "I can do that." He murmured, and then his ear peaked at the sound of him actually going to town!

I'll actually get to go outside and see people! His excitement rose as he could feel adrenaline go through him. "I can go to town for you tomorrow, too!" he was practically grinning.

"Excellent. I really didn't want to bother with the tiresome hike into town." He looked somewhat pleased that the child would be picking up his own tool of torture. He was musing happily to himself over the fact that the colony was eating a little better now. He made note of this and assured himself that he would use this 'reward' concept to his advantage the next time he punished the lad. But first, he must make sure to at least cut off the disgusting markings on the lad's face, not only was it "hopefully" going to help cleanse his face of the devilish boils, but also to make him a lot more appealing to look at.

"Make sure to bring Matt with you tomorrow, he will need to help you haul back all of the supplies I've ordered." He was glaring at the boy, Matt would make sure he couldn't run away, in fact, even though Matt was the strongest as far as physical appearance he often used him as a way to bend Al to his will.

On one occasion as Oliver recalled, he had held a knife to Matt's throat just to make Al eat one of his amazing poisonous desserts, and it was just to see the colony writhing on the floor in abdominal pain hours later as he sat by the fireplace, constantly assuring the child that the "pain will pass soon."

Al nodded quickly. The most pitiful part about this all is that he never considered running away, only once when he was little. The thought had yet to cross his mind, thinking that in this day and age this is how all the children were controlled and punished. Eyes glazed across the scene as he had already finished his meal. Rubbing the back of his hair, he sat nervously. Not really sure what to say after any meal with Oliver at all, but excited for his hero to come home and wisp away the damsel in distress.

Although they always played that as kids, he really needed a hero with the way he was growing up- there was going to be a large smack in the face coming soon that would wake him up, he could feel it deep within his chest.

Oliver was finished with his meal and smiled creepily at the teen across from him eyes closed as if he was pleased, but and the smile was unnerving as always more like a miniature Cheshire cat grin. "I'm glad you were able to join me for lunch Al." His voice seemed genuine and sincere. Oliver moved from the table to the kitchen as he took his plate along with him. He was waiting for Al to bring his plate in as well. There was a basin of hot water waiting on them as he smirked feeling the knife at the bottom of the soapy tub. He was already planning it; as soon as the barefoot Al would approach him he would 'accidentally' drop the knife and pierce his foot, and force him to walk the two miles to town tomorrow.

The door to the house opened abruptly as it swung open hard enough to hit the wall while the sound of clonking and heavy boots lay at the opening. A loud blow to the floor sounded as a heavy container was set on the ground. Grunts could be heard as shoe laces were being untied. Matt hated to be home, at least this home, knowing that Al would be giving him that same smile like he was never going to see him again if he left, like a long and lost puppy.