Bound by the Chains of Injustice
Chapter 2: Phantom Memories
A/N: Woah, two chapters huh? Alright then! Let's makes this one awesome then! I hope you all are enjoying this chapter and do not be afraid to review! I gain from both positive ones and ones that tell me if I need to fix anything! As always,
Hockey pucks and Christmas hugs!
-SwissloveandRussianhugs18.
P.S. No matter how much I wish I did, I do not own Hetalia. If I did, there would definitely be a character for Mongolia, Czech Republic, Slovakia, and Mexico.
-x-x-x—x-x-x-x-x-x-x—x
"Dear Journal,
America left yesterday.
I hate him for it, he made England break a little.
Doesn't he understand that this was the closest thing we would have to a family?
I don't care if Sir England isn't nice or very loving, he was as close as I could ever get to another Papa….
But of course, America had to ruin it, he can't just take others into consideration when he gets blinded by his goals.
At least when you're silent you learn by observing the mistakes others make.
I must go now, I have a violin to practice with. Learning vibrato today.
As always, with love and care,
-Canada."
He sighed as he closed the familiar book, running a hand over the leather cover in thought before hiding it once more.
He quickly cleaned up his desk area before turning and leaving his simple room, heading down the stairs silently and going to the spare room of the house were lessons, musical and academic combined, were held.
He picked up his violin case from the little corner next to the door, going to the music stand in the middle of the room before setting the case down and sitting himself so as to open it.
He marveled at the instrument after he opened the black case, gently taking it out and quickly tuning it before putting it in his lap and picking up his bow, tightening it and giving it a quick treatment with some rosin.
He grabbed his music from the case and set the first sheet on the stand, smiling softly to himself as he saw the name
Hauntings in D minor, by Matthew Williams.
It was the one he had wrote himself.
He quickly shifted into playing position and then the magic happened.
His fingers danced across the strings in a slow and sorrowful way, the ghostly melody filling the room with a certain gentleness that pulled you into its embrace.
The soft vibratos, sorrowful high notes on the E and A strings as if to signify many tears that had been shed, low tones on the D and G strings to signify a soul shattering grief, crescendos and decrescendos, ritardando and grace notes.
It was all a lovely mix that was tied together by slurred notes and natural ones.
As he played, his expression shifted along with the music. Eyes teary here, and then distant here as he seemed to search for something in the distance, something he couldn't quite reach but yet he tried to anyways.
The song ran for five minutes, full of repeats and first and second endings, coda's here and there as well.
At the end was a soft tremolo on the fourth finger note of the E string that transitioned into a smooth vibrato as the sound went from loud and longing to soft and grief filled.
He got out of playing position and smiled to himself as he stared at his work of art. Someday, he swore, he'd play this when his heart was truly broken and shattered, only then would the violin become a part of him and he would be able to understand the instrument as it seemed to understand him. Someday….
Heart break was inevitable, even he knew.
Of course, he hadn't experienced it, but he knew it would come one day, and when that day arrived…..he'd have his violin and his music all to himself.
He sighed softly in thought and moved on, playing a few Mozart pieces for another hour before looking at the clock and packing his violin up and putting it back in its place next to the door.
He stretched his arms and then left the room, going to clean the kitchen and prepare England some tea and biscuits with jam and some honey.
As he entered the kitchen, he was surprised a bit to see England looking out the kitchen window and to the fields outside.
Canada stood silently for a minute or two to observe the other, taking in the way he held a straight face though a fog of emotion drifted idly in his emerald eyes.
How could one man be so stoic, yet so expressive all at once?
Canada shook the wonder out of his mind and made himself known by lightly clearing his throat.
England turned to him, the fog clearing from his eyes as he focused on the boy "Ah, Canada, what is it that you want?" he asked, suddenly his face became a scowl "Do you want to rebel to, like your brother?!" he seethed.
Canada gave a slow blink "Do not relate me to him, if you would please Sir, and I would never dream of rebellion." He answered back, knowing he had said the right thing when England's scowl faded quickly and was replaced with a small smirk of victory.
England nodded "Alright, but you failed to answer my first question lad, what is it that you wanted?" he asked.
Canada motioned to the clock "It was tea time, I came here to prepare you some tea and honeyed biscuits with jam." He said "Unless you would like me to prepare something else, that is Sir."
The empire hummed "No, I think that will do just fine lad, just fine indeed." He said with a nod of approval, shifting away from his place at the window "Bring the tea and biscuits to my office if you will, I have paperwork to finish. Your brother is throwing a tantrum, ha! He doesn't know what he is facing." The Brit muttered as he left the kitchen with a cocky smirk replacing the stoic expression usually found his features.
Canada sighed "It seems he will never be able to get rid of the habit of being a trouble-maker, no matter how many times he gets scolded for it." He muttered as he prepared the requested tea and biscuits for his Commander, opting for raspberry jam rather than cherry this time.
Blech, cherry.
He shuddered at disgust for the fruit before shaking the thought out of his head and grabbing the handles on the edges of the silver tray, lifting it and making his way to England's office room.
Once he arrived, he found the other bent over papers, his quill moving away at lightning paced speed as he wrote in his neat copperplate script. How it came so naturally to the empire, Canada didn't know, but he had to admit it was rather enjoyable to watch the slight twitches of the others fingers as he wrote the letters.
Canada cleared his throat to make himself known once more, smiling as England looked up "Here you are Sir England." He chirped, hoping that the extra enthusiasm in his tone would help liven the other up as well.
The empire nodded and cleared a space on the corner of his desk for Canada to set the tray down on "Ah, thank you lad." He said with a small hum, picking up the tea cup once Canada set the tray down and taking a sip. He pulled another hum "Earl Grey?" he asked curiously as he set the cup back down once more and glanced up at Canada.
Canada gave a nod "Yes, I know you prefer to drink it when working. I remember you once said it helped to clear your mind." He said with a smile.
The other stared at a piece of paper, as if thinking before closing his eyes "Well, at least you care to remember such small things." He muttered, the comparison to America silent but understood.
Canada mentally sighed, so he was going to be comparing them for awhile….
Well, he would simply be patient then. He could deal with this for a bit he supposed.
He gave another small nod and England sent him to go finish his chores and lessons.
He silently left the room and decided to look around, chores didn't take long to finish when you didn't have a less tidy brother to ruin some things around, so he supposed a quick look around would be alright.
Canada hummed as he wandered down the hallway "Where to start, where to start…." He muttered to himself as his eyes roved over the hallway.
Sure, he had lived here for a long time, but he still felt like he uncovered something new every time he looked around.
He let his feet lead him as his mind wandered, wondering what the possibility of finding a secret room in this house was.
He stopped as a door blocked his path, a very familiar one.
"…America's room…."
He put a hand on the sleek metal of the door knob, the cold of it biting into his skin lightly as he held on.
Well…America wasn't here anymore so…
He opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him just in case, even though there was no reason to do so anymore.
He looked around the room with slight boredom. It was like his own, except the bed covers where a soft blue rather than the crème color his was.
"I wonder…."
He knelt down and put a hand under the bed, giving a soft gasp as he felt his finger tips brush by a texture he knew well.
He quickly grabbed the object and pulled it out, eyes widening slightly in surprise.
A leather bound book. Possibly a journal…!
He quickly flipped it open and began to skim the pages eagerly.
The first fifty or so were nothing but things like "I fell today, it hurt." Or "England sure yells a lot." Or even the occasional "I did nothing but chores today. Bye."
It didn't get interesting until the last few entries, the last twenty to be exact.
Canada's eyebrows knit together as he read them
"Dear Journal,
You know, I've been getting mad at England lately.
Usually I don't get this mad, but…..well, I just don't like him for doing what he's doing in my territory. I know technically I am his colony, but I'm my own person. I have rights just like he does, so why should I get treated like I don't? I should talk to him about this….perhaps we can talk it out?
-America."
Canada hummed, so that's how it started….
He skimmed ahead to an entry with shaky hand-writing, as if the other had been mad when this was made.
"Dear Journal,
He didn't listen! Again! He just keeps brushing me off like this is just a phase, but it's not! I'm getting fed up with this taxation and so are my people! If we don't talk this out soon, things will get violent!
I don't mind hurting England, but I'm worried for Canada. We are brothers after all, perhaps I should bring him with me. I'll talk to him about it tomorrow, hopefully he will agree.
-America."
He scoffed, why did the idiot ever think he would agree to something like that? Against an empire, they had no chance! They were just colonies!
He flipped to the next page, going to the last entry
"Dear Journal,
I'm leaving now, after writing this.
Canada didn't agree with me, if anything I am sure he just declared me dead to him. That's fine, he'll see I was right soon enough and when I become my own country, you can bet I won't help him when he asks for it in his own revolution! We are, well, were, brothers! He just abandoned me though, he wanted to stay with England! Of all things to do!
That's fine though, and you know why?
Because I know he really just wants another person to cling to like he did to France. He doesn't understand that France and England are two very different people!
But he'll learn soon enough, once he stops being a blind bastard to it.
So long, dear journal, I am afraid I must leave you here. You simply remind me of my life here, and I cannot have that burdening my mind during the revolution.
If Canada finds you, then I hope he finds what he wants and then burns this book,
If England finds you…..well, then he got my message of hate.
Goodbye, Journal.
-Forever your friend, Alfred. "
Canada felt a small scowl pull at his usually kind expression, slamming the book shut and hiding it back underneath the bed before standing back up and taking leave of the room.
He went to his chores, his anger making him speed through them faster than usual.
He sat down in the parlor of the house and sighed as he held his head in his hands.
America was right about him clinging to England, he was dead on with that assumption, but what else could he do?
It was a cruel world and he was but a child, he needed someone to lean on.
When France exited out of his life, that person just became England, even if it wasn't as comforting.
Childish habits never seemed to leave, did they?
He sighed once more and decided to get a book from the bookshelf.
He stopped as he heard a laugh, one that was too familiar.
He looked out the door leading to the main hall curiously, waiting for another laugh.
A few seconds later, it came again and he was dashing down the hall to the source.
He stopped as he reached the lessons room, watching the sight in front of him.
America was there, sitting at the piano with a smile "Oh hey! About time you arrived!" he said with a wave.
Canada blinked and shook his head, rubbing his eyes and then looking up.
He was gone.
He gave a sigh of relief and left the room.
Just…what was that? It was like a repeat of their first music lesson together, well, the beginnings of it anyways.
Oh dear lord….
He was being haunted.
He put a hand to his head and bit his lip as he heard the laugh echo in his mind.
He was being haunted by childish memories, ones he didn't seem to want to forget.
"Dear lord…am I suffering from…. from guilt…?"