Alfred paced by the mailbox anxiously. Two weeks ago he'd taken the test that would determine whether or not he could go to this weird foreign school. When he'd called his brother they'd both were surprised to find out that the other too received a letter. Matthew's, though, was one of acceptance. He wished Alfred luck; he'd be ecstatic if he knew someone at this place.
Alfred too would love to finally go to school with his brother. So that Saturday, hew went to the high school, nervous as hell but feeling confident. He'd been met outside by some big bald dude who looked like he was part of the secret service. He was lead into the cafeteria where, on a single table, was a packet of paper and three sharpened No. 2 pencils. There was no one else in there. Unnerved, he glanced at the man who stared at something other than him behind dark shades before taking a seat. As soon as he sat a bored sounding female voice broke out over the intercom, nearly making Alfred piss himself, "You have three hours to finish as much of the test in front of you as possible. Begin how." He took a deep breath or two, trying to keep his heart in his ribcage, before picking up a pencil.
That test was all history, mostly American History. I so totally aced it. He ignored the stupid voice in the back of his head with practiced ease.
Suddenly, around the bend in the road came a shiny, black Mercedes-Benz. He blinked in shock as it slowed to stop in front of him. A dark window in the back slid down, revealing a man with brown hair, curls sticking out at odd placed, dark shades, and an impeccable suit. He smiled a slightly roguish smile and handed the stunned American a familiar envelope, "Congratulations," he had an Italian accent, "Instructions are inside. I'll see you next month!" Alfred stood stunned as the window rolled up, covering the now waving man as the car rolled away.
After it was out of sight he noticed he was holding the letter. Neatly slicing open the top with his picket knife he pulled out the first sheet of paper. He read it with a growing smile on his face before letting out a whoop and running back inside.
~X~
Alfred nearly hummed with excitement as he stepped off one plane in order to get onto another. But he focused less on gate number and more on the people. It didn't take long for his eyes to alight on bright purple eyes. Dropping his carry-on he ran and tackled his sorely unprepared brother to the ground, "Mattie!"
"Alfred! Was that absolutely necessary?" he scowled as he hugged back, "Yes, yes, good to see you again too. Now let me up!" He did so, pulling his brother up with him.
Most people mistook them as twins. Both of nearly the same height, Mattie barely an inch or so shorter, tall and well built, similar facial structure, and with wide, genuine smiles when prompted; Matthew was younger by two years.
Matthew, though, had slightly longer hair of a pale gold colour instead of Alfred's gold wheat. And, instead of Alfred cowlick, he had one strand of curly hair that he refused to cut. The most notable difference though was in eyes, Alfred's being a bright, midday blue, while Matthew's were the purple of twilight.
Granted, most of that no one noticed as Matthew tended to draw very little attention, boarder-lining invisible actually. People only really take notice to his eyes when filled with bloodlust as he barrels towards them in a hockey rink. But that's a story for another time.
"You have not idea how relieved I am that you're coming Al!"
"I know! Man, I was worried for a second or two." He paused, an arm still slung over his brother's shoulders, "So, are we gonna be in the same grade, even though you're younger?"
Matthew though a moment, "I don't know how that works." They shrugged simultaneously.
An annoyed female voice, similar to the one at Alfred's high school, sounded through the building. Normally, the brothers would have ignored it but a word caught their attention, "—Hetalia University please get down to Gate 1 already." Then it was said again in Italian and another language that they figured to be some weird Nordic language or something. "Alright! Where are we now?"
They looked. Gate 63. "… Well, lets get moving, eh?"
~X~
They'd eventually found the gate at the other end of the terminal, played rummy for a half hour before they were called to board. Looking around, Alfred saw that only two other people were waiting with them. Some olive skinned brunette with a weird curl coming out from the side of his head was drawing in a sketch pad, an intent look on his handsome features. The other was a pale featured silver-haired boy with his own curl pinned back with a cross barrette and a serious countenance. He was listening to an ipod. These few people to fill a plane?
They showed the woman their boarding passes and acceptance letters without speaking to each other, in general airport fashion. Alfred continued to look behind them, expecting a hoard of people or something to swamp them at any time. It didn't happen. Instead, they were ushered onto the plane and everything fled his mind.
This has to be what beingTony Starkfeels like! It was exactly like the private jet of his dreams looked like! Leather chairs and benches faced huge LED TV's. It was wood panelled and carpeted, spacious but comfortably furnished, and more hi-tech than anything in his house. Alfred nearly drooled, "Dude! This is so cool!" He tossed his luggage onto a chair and began to explore.
He heard soft footsteps follow and saw a sunny Italian following, "Ve~ It's just like Grandpa's!"
Alfred froze, "Your Grandfather has a private jet?" The boy nodded, curl bouncing.
A pretty flight attendant stood to talk to them, "If you'll all sit please, we'll take off immediately." Alfred jumped over the back of a leather couch and planted himself in it. The Italian fluttered around to sit on one side of him while Matthew sat on the other side. True to the stewardess's words, the plane began to leave the dock.
Feeling the Italian bounce excitedly beside him he turned to look at him. Dressed sharply in a suit of a make Alfred was unaware of but knew was expensive, it certainly looked like he had money, though whether from business or… something else he was unsure (he'd seen The Godfather, he knew shit went down). He was small, lithe, with a light olive tan colouration. Smiling caramel eyes found his, "Ve~ I'm Feliciano Vargas!"
Alfred knitted his brow. Vargas. Vargas… Where have I-? He felt Matthew, who'd been listening, lean around him, "You wouldn't happen to be related to a Romulus Vargas, would you?"
"Ve! Grandpa Rome is the Dean at Hetalia!"
"Really?" Matthew continued, "Do you know much about this school?"
"Of course! My older brother actually goes here!" he paused, "Which is kind of odd because they already had an Italy…" The brothers exchanged confused glances.
When they figured that the Italian had spaced out Matthew asked, "So how does the enrolment work? How do they find us and put us into grades?"
"Ve, it doesn't matter how old you are, although there's probably some guidelines. Schools all over the world keep track of their students. If they show talent Hetalia is looking for they send out the letters. But only if their country's open."
"Uh," Alfred eloquently put, "Countries?"
"Si. While there are some exceptions, each country in the world has a representative at Hetalia. While you're there that's what you're called!"
"So, I'd be… Canada?" Matthew asked.
"Si! And, er…"
"I'm Matthew and this is my brother, Alfred."
"Ve! Brothers!" Why did he sound so surprised? Didn't he notice? "Questo è grande! It's weird but kinda unexpected. A good few of the students are related or know each other somehow. Soon, Romano and I will both be Italy, and most of the Asian nations are related."
"Wait," Alfred interjected, "How can you both be Italy?"
"Well, we've always been governed separately, North and south. North Italy was under Austria's rule most of the time while Spain had South Italy. But I had a feeling Grandpa pulled a few strings," the bubbly Italian seemed to deflate, "I'm happy but I wish he'd stop favouring us like this." He shook his head and sighed.
Matthew took advantage of the lull, "So, is that what they meant when they said 'to teach toleration to each new generation and to bring those all over together'?"
"Wow, Matt, you memorised that?"
"Shut up Al."
Feliciano nodded, "Hetalia University was developed under those principles. Ve, the founders were tired of seeing everyone being so mean to each other so they strove to teach love~ It doesn't always work though. The America and Russia of the 50's and 60's always fought, and Germany of the 40's wasn't very nice…"
They were cut off by the food cart coming around, all of it free. Matthew got a sandwich and Alfred a burger but Feliciano was appalled that there was no pasta and promptly went off to fix that problem. When he was gone the brothers looked at each other, "Well, this is going to be interesting," Alfred said between munches.
Matthew swallowed his bite before speaking, "Exciting you mean. I adore Canada but nothing interesting happens. I only go to school so I don't develop cabin fever and several forms of depression."
"You're telling me. My tech class makes me feel like I'm backing second grade again, but less cool because computers were awesome and new back then."
Matthew nodded knowingly, "Especially in that dump you call a school." Alfred nodded.
The brothers sat in quiet understanding, nomming on their food as each other thought the same thing. Something big's gonna happen here, it has to.
~x~X~x~
Questo è grande!-That's great!
Heeey look it's ... that guy. I'm gonna try to make him more badass than in Brothers.
Lots of skipping around here...
Any and all languages other than English are translated online.