I'll Tried
"Arthur I'm not a little kid anymore! There's no such thing as Peter Pan, and fairytales, fairies aren't even real!"
Alfred stormed off out of the house, and into the woods. Arthur picked up the shattered pieces of his tea, and Alfred's coffee mug. He had invited Alfred over, just since they hadn't seen one another in some time. Arthur had begun to reminisce about old times, accidentally of course, but it had struck a nerve when Arthur mentioned that his favorite story was Peter Pan. Alfred had gotten upset over these stories, for reason unknown to Arthur and now you the lovely reader has been caught up.
Alfred was deep in the woods, remembering his times in here as a young boy, trying to push away the memories as they resurfaced in his mind. He was too old to believe in fairies and flying children, and other silly things that Arthur still believed in. He sighed out in frustration, running his newly calloused fingers through his wheat blonde hair. Arthur had been the one to invite him back home, well as Arthur called it. Alfred's home was America, seriously he WAS, wait still to this day IS AMERICA! His home was the land of the free and the home of the brave, while Arthur still was stuck in the land of fairies, unicorn and gnomes. He kept walking even though through the foliage he could see the sun setting in the west. He walked a while longer until he reached his old field, he remember he even had to give Arthur a map so he could find it. In the middle was an old tree, and in its branches was a dilapidated tree house he built with England's help. He climbed up the ladder carefully, uncertain if it could give way at any moment. He reached the top and walked across the wooden slates that made a floor. On the walls were old faded images, drawings he made of himself as the hero, in others there were him and England, and Alfred smiled at one where he had drawn England as the maiden in trouble. Alfred sat on the floor and pulled out a hamburger for magically nowhere, and began munching (or devouring) it. He finished it in record time, 13.5 seconds and sat on the floor of the tree house and looked up at the sky. It was near dark, and Alfred knew he should have gone back toward England's house, not his house anymore, his was across the ocean, so far away, no that was no longer England AND his house, no know it solely belonged to England once again. Alfred watched at the sky looked like it was set ablaze, remembering the painful memories from the war of 1812, the burning of his homeland, of his capital for crying out loud, all in an attempt to make him come back. He held back those memories, not noticing the soft tears that escaped from his eyes. He couldn't cry, he was a country, a strong and developing one at that, and he was the hero, he was not allowed to cry. He had to be strong, not only for himself, but for others especially for Arthur.
Alfred sighed again running his fingers through his hair, trying to understand why Arthur was so wrapped up in fairies, unicorns, gnomes and other magical creatures. He sat till the sun was a dark indigo kind of blue, showing that the sun had set. And yet still could not figure out why he had these attachments, why they were so important, and why he defended them. He couldn't understand so he continued to sit there, pondering. He leaned against one of the more sturdy walls and thought that is until he fell asleep.
In his dream he saw Arthur actually smiling at him, his hand outstretched. Alfred found himself reaching for the hand only to be found falling away from it, until he was caught by a unicorn. He landed next to Arthur who patted the creature, and sent him away. Arthur turned to walk, motioning Alfred to follow. He found himself in a garden, with a million flowers or even more, all different colors, and it was beautiful. The flowers suddenly disappeared only to be replaced with fairies from all walks of life. They flew as the laughed and laughed as they flew, it was wonderful. Arthur was laughing, and smiling like when Alfred was young. When he was a colony.
Alfred awoke to the sound of his name, and the crunch of leaves in the far off distance. He yawned and stretched, careful not to break and boards that might lead to him getting hurt. He carefully climbed out of the ramshackle tree house and toward the sound of crunching leaves and a sound he had not heard in a long time. "Alfred! Alfred where are you?" It was Arthur calling his name, like when he was boy. He reached the figure, it was now only a few feet away, and sure enough it was Arthur. "Hey, Iggy, when we get back to the mansion could you tell me Peter Pan? I don't remember it very well." Arthur smiled and much like when Alfred was a boy, Arthur grabbed his hand and led him back toward the estate, to tell him the all too familiar story.