Disclaimer: I own nothing
A/N: I just want to say thank you to Illead who currently is the only follower of this story. (My prologue sucks :'D) Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 1-Church, tea and candles
Glasses and plates clanged merrily to the upbeat buzz of the Sunday morning bustle. Sunlight proudly strode through the kitchen windows, illuminating a happy scene powered by an almost animated Alfred.
"So then," he swallowed, finishing off his practically incarcerated pancake of which England had the delight in learning that you need milk to make it a mixture, "I got out this HUGE rope and tied up every last baddie!" He exclaimed, never missing a single detail explaining his dream last night. England was by the kitchen sink, washing up his and Matthews dishes (as they had a reasonably sized breakfast) and held an aloof smile on his face, whilst taking note of everything he said.
Matthew however was the complete opposite. What was once neat and wavy blonde hair that swooped down with grace was now nothing but a tangled mess. His lilac eyes, normally keen and attentive, looked weary as his face was pushed at an odd angle as he rested his head on his palm, directing the weight onto the sturdy oak table.
"Well Matthew?" Alfred asked excitedly.
"Whu?" He replied tiredly, focusing his attention on Alfred, unsure of what he said.
"Which one would you want?" Alfred pressed, not noticing the exhaustion laced in his brothers voice.
Silence shifted awkwardly through the air until another voice broke it.
"I think someone didn't get enough sleep last night." Arthur interjected, taking on a parental tone.
All Canada could reply to that was a mumbled sorry as he gazed down at his feet hanging off his chair. England, noticing his discomfort and slight embarrassment quickly picked up Alfred's plate and suggested that they go and wash up for church. Arthur himself wasn't extremely religious (at least not compared to the Italies) but believed it would be wise by following America's people when staying there. Besides, church was a much more appealing option than a mountain of paperwork.
Upon hurrying upstairs and going to the wash room, Alfred would occasionally glance at Matthew as they brushed their hair, noting just how tired he looked. As he racked his heroic brain for ideas, he came up with one, and quickly announced,
"Hey Matt."
"Yes Alfred?" He responded somewhat exasperated.
"If something scary is keeping you up I have the perfect solution!" He exclaimed, eyes wide and alight with passion.
Halting brushing his hair, he turned and looked at Alfred. For once, Matthew didn't look at him as if he were a lunatic, or baby, or both. This time, he looked at him with his amethyst eyes expectantly waiting for an answer as something else accompanied them. Something Alfred has never seen on his brother before. It looked like worry, or desperation - or fear.
Alfred was taken slightly aback by this, but answered none-the-less.
"Well, when England reads me stories, they always say that light scares bad things away-like daylight or candles- that's why I always keep mine lit on stormy nights!"
Instead of criticising the fact that it was a rather childish belief, or that if you knocked it over in your sleep it could very well burn the house down, his twin simply nodded and faced the mirror again, brushing his hair, but murmured a shy 'Thank you' that only added to Alfred's 'heroic side'.
"No problem!" Alfred practically beamed, clenching his fist and thumbing to his face,
"After all, I am the hero!"
And at that, Matthew couldn't help but smile.
The trip to church had been mundane, despite the beautiful scenery that lay itself before the family and the crisp fresh fall air that accompanied it, filled with birdsong. The day was bright yet chilly, frost clinging to the empty husks of leaves and every bony branch. They had travelled to church in a horse and cart, modest but elegant none the less, with a flap that could be pulled up if required, and was lead by two sturdy chestnut mares.
As the cart drew up, Matthew glanced at the bustles of people, flocks of black, grey and white as they slowly crammed their way into church. Brass bells clanged and tolled mercilessly, sending shock waves of sound through the very bodies of people as they entered the building together, hand in hand, with Arthur in the middle and a boy on each end, all in their Sunday best. Heavy wooden doors relented as they were pushed open and the family was greeted by organ music and enigmatic choir hymns.
Although Alfred may have always found church service boring to some degree, Matthew always managed to find peace and solace in a place like this. Alone in his thoughts, yet supported by others. The whole building and concept combined just had a welcoming and fulfilling feel to him.
Warm chatter bubbled around the church as people warmly greeted one another, catching up on recent events. Arthur himself was currently occupied making small talk with the priest, shaking his hand, and in the process, letting go of Alfred and Matthews. The brothers looked up at each other, a smirk gracing their lips as they loudly ran off to talk to the other children attending church, unable to be stopped by an aggravated Brit.
The church service went smoothly, save for a few times when Arthur would scold Alfred for being too noisy and disrespectful. Yet even though the service had finished, it seemed that they were still there, thanks to a certain 'English gentleman' being unable to refuse any request for help. The said request coming from a young lady lengthened their stay. Although Alfred was in favour of being heroic and helping others, surely they could move boring bibles by themselves, no? Needless to say, Alfred was bored out of him mind and his brother was doing little to dispel it.
Turning to his brother, Alfred proceeded to poke him multiple times in the chest and head, before getting an annoyed yet quiet,
"What is it Alfred?" In reply.
"I'm bored!" He whined, grabbing the edge of a pew and started to swing himself around pulling on his arm, a firm pout on his face until he realised something.
"Hey Matthew, let's play tag!"
His brother shifted uncomfortably before answering,
"Won't Arthur get mad?"
"Of course not!" Alfred easily brushed off, "After all, he can't be mad at something he doesn't see!"
"But-" The timid voice was interrupted yet again by the boisterous other.
"Besides, he won't mind if we stay in the church, practically everyone is gone right?"
Matthew seemed to brighten at the statement, but was still slightly hesitant.
Kumajirou- who had been in Canada's arms the whole time- looked up to him and spoke in his usually high voice reassuringly,
"He won't notice just one game."
With no other visible way out of the situation, Canada sighed in defeat as America grinned in triumph-and before he could say anything else, America quickly exclaimed 'Tag!' hitting his arm before running off down some corridor. Canada simply shrugged and chased after him with kumajirou in arm.
No going back now.
…
After running around for what seemed like an eternity, Matthew bent forward, a hand on one knee as the other was holding kumataro and panted heavily. He was supposed to be the invisible one, so why couldn't he find and catch Alfred?
As if planned by God, Matthew heard a stifled giggle from around a corner, his head shooting up in adrenaline. Without daring to waste another moment (as he knew how fast his brother was), he dashed towards the area he heard the sound, and wasn't disappointed. Coming across a red-faced Alfred, he swiftly hit him in the arm and promptly shouted,
"Tag!" Running off.
"Oh no you don't!" Alfred teased, catching up with him as they dashed through the hallways, not a care in the world as they both turned a corner and went face first into a very large, squishy and irritated obstacle.
England's POV
"There, finished" He stated to no one but himself, letting his back straighten accompanied by cracks and groans from being bending over so long as he placed him hands on his hips and leant back. They had quite a few of those bibles to move and he could understand why they asked for his help.
Though it did take a bit longer than expected...
A lot longer...
"Alright boys, we can go home now." he announced cheerily, pivoting on his heels to face...
Nothing.
Or more precisely, empty spaces where Matthew and Alfred should have been.
"Alfred?"
"Matthew?"
He called out, but got no response as his voice echoed throughout the vast building, making his stomach clench with worry. Although this was a nice community, who knows what a person would do if they happened to stroll by and pick up two innocent and unsuspecting young children who were only looking for attention and amusement.
And God knows what the bloody frog may have taught Matthew about 'fun'.
Before his thoughts could fester any longer, he was brought back to reality by a booming voice that sounded as if it was lecturing children.
Looks like he didn't have to find them after all.
Canada's POV
In all of Matthews young colonised years of life, he had never-EVER-heard someone shout with such ferocity. You'd think that he was trying to wake the dead! He was so close to catching Alfred. So close. But it turned out that the priest was still here-and he wasn't too fond of children.
Canada looked up at the man with fearful eyes,tearing up at the corners whilst Alfred stood in front of him semi-protectively, semi-cowering as the feared old man's voice reverberated throughout them, shaking their bodies to the core.
"How DARE you be so disrespectful in the house of God!" The figure boomed, a veins in his head pulsing just like England's did when he was mad, except this was raw and true malice.
"If you weren't white, I wouldn't be able to tell you apart from those savages!"
Savages.
The very word itself tore through him, taking both him and his brother aback, yet Matthew more so. He had lived in peace and harmony-heck, he had practically lived with them, as one of their own. They taught him the ways of the land, of Gods and spirits, they fed him when he was hungry and gave him a warm bed to sleep in, asking for nothing in return but his good-will. They healed him when he was hurt and acted as the parents he never had, treating him with love and equality. To call those loving and cherishing people mere savages, well...needless to say, it really him home.
But before either one of them could counter that statement, another loud voice penetrated the hall, but was filled with inquisition and protectiveness instead of sheer anger.
"What seems to be the problem then?" England asked as he waltzed up to the man in question, instinctively putting Matthew and Alfred behind him.
The priest who was once full of strong will faltered and even seemed to take a step back in the Englishman's presence, startled by his air of authority. In spite of the falter in confidence, he regained it, yet just as he was about to explain the gravity of the situation, Alfred's cheery and slightly obnoxious voice cut in,
"He thought we were savages!"
"Savages?" England questioned, his voice pinched in in disbelief which soon changed to fury.
"How dare you call my boys savages!" He exploded, fists clenching at his sides, threatening to grab hold of the man's collar in front of him.
Said of which was terrified now. He had backed up against the wall, face as pale as death itself, shaking his head side to side vigorously in an attempt to shoo the Brit away. Choked sobs and failed beginnings of words escaped through his mouth as mere squeaks as England continued on with his rant.
"And if you ever even touch a single head on their heads again, I shall see to it personally. UNDERSTAND?!" At the end of his sentence his voice raised to a somewhat high yet still dangerous tone, of which the twins had never heard in all of their years of lecturing as his emerald eyes blazed with fury.
The priest could only whimper as he hastily scurried off to God knows where to escape to where England could no longer reach him without leaving his boys. With a sigh, Arthur turned and knelt down on one knee so he was level with the boys, placing a reassuring hand on each shoulder.
"There, now that that's all over, how about we go home for a nice cup of tea, hmm?" He announced, his voice regaining the gentle velvet texture he always used when around them, emanating kindness and understanding.
"But I must ask, what exactly did you do to set the man off like that?"
Alfred and Matthew, both startled from the whole previous event, turned to face each other, tears forgotten as they sheepishly grinned from ear to ear and both faced England with voices half inquiring, half stating,
"Tag?"
Surprisingly, Arthur hadn't been very mad at them. He merely gave each boy a light scolding, and after he was convinced they were sincere, let them go play outside the house. The day itself passed in relative peace (minus the church incident) and soon turned to night. After one of Arthur's disgusting meals and two tricky baths later (Alfred was a good scary story teller if he wanted to be, and poor Matthew continuously believed it-Arthur might scrub as bad as he cooks!), the boys were situated in front of the living room fireplace. Alfred was playing with his toy soldiers and Matthew, much to Arthur's delight, asked to try some of his tea-of which he was sipping right now.
After about half an hour of this, England re-entered the living room from his study, and announced,
"Alright boys, up to bed."
Alfred, as per usual, let out a moan of complaint, but shuffled along anyway. Matthew simply put away the toys he and Alfred were playing with, and quietly followed after him. Once they had brushed their teeth, been tucked into bed and had multiple stories read to them (thanks to Alfred's stubborn insistence) England stood up quietly so as not to disturb them and made his way to the door, whispering,
"Goodnight Lads." as he did so.
But before he exited the room, a barely audible voice stopped him.
"Um...England?"
He turned to find Matthew sitting up in bed, much to his surprise and he walked back over to his bed, kneeling and replying,
"Yes Matthew?"
"Well, um, I was wondering..." Canada shifted awkwardly under the covers, his shy personality getting the best of him.
"Go on lad, spit it out." Arthur remarked, leaning over his bedside in fear something was wrong.
Matthew gathered all of the courage he could muster and scrapped what little embarrassment he felt and asked,
"Can I leave the candle lit by my bedside?"
Arthur, ever knowing Arthur, simply smiled kindly and asked,
"One of Alfred's horror stories?"
Matthew simply nodded, it would be the best and most reasonable explanation to go with.
England simply returned the nod, standing as he took out a match box from his pocket and swiftly lit the candle, blowing out the match afterwards.
"How's that?" He asked, going back to his son's bedside.
"Good, thank you." Canada replied, holding and snuggling his already asleep polar bear, the gentle candle light licking at their features.
"Alright then." He smiled warmly, proceeding to kiss Matthew on the forehead.
"Goodnight Matthew." Arthur whispered.
"Goodnight Dad." Matthew replied, sinking into his pillows as his father went to the door and, taking one final look to make sure everything was truly alright, walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.
For a few minutes, Matthew lay just staring at the ceiling, eventually lulling himself to the brink of sleep. Yet as he was doing so, a very biting and unwelcome chill entered the room, and the candle next to him was swiftly extinguished.
He knew for a fact that all of the windows were firmly shut, there were no drafts, Alfred was fast asleep and England hadn't re-entered the room. All of these thoughts raced through his mind and made him squirm with fear as he turned onto his side, pulling the duvet over his head.
It seemed that candles didn't work either.