Canada woke up with a pounding headache and a cold sweat surrounding him uncomfortably. The room seemed to spin for a moment as he stumbled to his feet and managed to reach his bathroom. He knew who he was, being the ruler of this world he'd shaped to his desires, and he knew that he had gained what he wanted out of it all, yet he had woken feeling empty and confused with himself.
As though to highlight that, he soon after vomited into his toilet, clinging to the silver of the bowl as he emptied everything he could.
This lasted at least ten minutes, despite that he had soon run out of things to throw up and was left dry-heaving against the golden seat, his body weak and trembling and his mouth numb while his throat burned. He would gasp every few seconds, then go back to heaving.
When the wave of nausea subsided, he slid to the floor, pressing his face to the cool tile and closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. His teeth felt annoyingly grainy, and he would get a bad taste whenever he tried to breathe through his nose, so he opted to avoid it while he gathered himself up.
It was in this moment, he became painfully aware that he wasn't alone in that room. Sitting up, his head spinning as he did, he saw the weak, small form of his personal servant and brother; England. It pissed him off.
He must have looked terribly weak with his hair a matted, wet mess, his face flushed and sweating, and his body trembling as he tried to support himself. No one was allowed to ever see him like that, and the realization of the unspoken rule was quickly registering on the Brit's face, who stumbled back and tried to look busy as he nearly sprinted to the door.
"Stop!" Came Canada's harsh growl, as he pulled himself to his feet. He'd need to clean himself up soon, but that could wait.
England was visibly trembling as Canada stepped up behind him. He roughly grabbed him by the dirty, matted locks and pulled his head back. England's mouth was opened slightly in pain, but not a sound escaped his throat.
"What are you doing here?" Canada asked. His voice was smooth and calm, but it was clearly a threat.
"I-I…" England was looking around, trying to think of something to say. "I um…. H-heard…."
"Oh," Canada's hand tightened around England's hair, pulling him back a bit harder. "You heard something, so you thought it was your right to come inside and investigate?"
"W-well…" England had tears in his eyes at this point, but mostly from fear. "I just….."
"Spit it out!" Canada snapped at him, jerking him down so hard that he was bending backwards in an awkward position.
"Was…. W…worr….i-ied…." The words were broken up by his fearful stuttering and hesitance, but they made Canada's violet eyes grow somewhat wider.
He stared at England for a long moment, trying to process what he was saying, before slamming his dirty-blonde head against the wall, choosing to act aggressively.
"I see," he hissed, no longer disguising his voice with the smooth kindness he had held before. "So you wanted to help me, is that it?!"
"N-no! I-" England was cut off when his head was slammed against the wall again. Canada may have only recently thrown up, but he was still the ruler of the world. No one was stronger than he.
"Shut up," Canada growled darkly. "You couldn't possibly understand me. You're just a worthless little servant. I'm a God."
Another hit left a fair-sized blood stain on the wall, before England was thrust to the floor.
"How does it feel, hm?" Canada sneered, placing his bare foot against the Brit and rolling him over. "You once tried to rule the world, didn't you? You were close too. But look at you now."
His foot slammed against England's side, causing a choked sound to escape him. He attempted to roll over and curl around himself, but Canada's foot caught him and rolled him to his back again, allowing for another kick, then another. Canada had his arms crossed calmly as he did this, barely needing to do much more as he caught England with each attempt at escape and would kick him again. It was like he was playing with a soccer ball.
"You're so pathetic now, aren't you?" He said, shaking his head and stopping the repeated kicks, now just pressing down on England's throat with the side of his foot. "Such a pathetic little worm. And you think you can worry about me."
Canada's face became a deep scowl and he landed another kick on the side of England's head, before putting his foot down and turning away as England struggled to a sitting position, having to use the wall to support himself while he stood.
"I have to get ready before today, so you have a bit of time before the rest of your punishment will be dealt with," Canada said, not even looking at the Brit now. "I expect to see you in an hour. You know where."
"Y-yes, sir…." England said in a weak, trembling voice. His eyes were downcast again.
"Oh, and England." Canada turned towards him. "I don't ever want you to act like we're on the same level. Ever. Or the punishment will be far greater. You should know your place by now. Understand?"
England didn't look up as he nodded, bowed deeply, and inched back towards the door until he disappeared through it.
Canada huffed in irritation, and stripped himself down while he walked to the bathroom, starting the shower while his mind buzzed with unwanted thoughts.
England had, for a moment, looked as though he truly cared about him. As though he still believed they were brothers. He had seemed concerned…
Canada hated it, and made a mental note to beat it out of him later. He had no need for someone like that anymore.
Matthew shivered as he woke. He had, again, been given the best America and Russia could offer him, but he still awoke with cold fingers and cheeks. Part of him wondered, as he watched the pair sleeping together with a thin blanket around them, if it would be better to offer they share all four blankets, as well as their body heat. Yet, part of him knew that it may cause trouble if they awaken with him unexpectedly close.
He sighed and straightened up, groaning and cracking his back while he looked around. It was a lot farther than he had expected. They had walked all the day before, and now had several miles to go before they would arrive, as Russia had explained apologetically. As though he could change the placement of his town.
Matthew recalled back to the day before, when they had explained the workings of that world.
The world around them had been allowed to progress and grow over those centuries, but one space, hundreds of miles wide, was set aside in the northern regions of what was formerly the only part of Canada. That place was known as the Wastelands, and was the barren, snowy plains they lived in now.
The rest of the world had been isolated to the remaining portions of North America, to keep control over the people. It would be hard to keep people from rising against him if they populated the whole world, so the population was cut down to several million and kept stable that way. The people were happy with their lives, and so none had a reason to question things (especially with the history books being so heavily edited).
The towns, however, were actually very tiny countries that became too small to call a country. It was the only way Canada could keep the other countries alive and under his control. The population could range anywhere between five and twenty, depending on how well-off their people were (which normally depended on how obedient the countries were). The people were rarely in better shape than the countries themselves, and none knew of the outer world where everything was perfect and clean. Many were savages, many were homeless, and many died of starvation. Any countries living that day, besides Canada, were labeled as towns and given a tiny spot of land to "call their own".
Rubbing his head, Matthew sat on the cold ground, watching the sun rise over the cold grounds and waiting silently for the pair to awaken.
In the still silence, he thought he could hear a voice speaking to him.
"Matthew?" The voice said softly. "Please don't ever get the notion that I didn't care for you. I always loved you. More than I can say. I just… never fully appreciated you until…"
"Mattie…?" A sleepy voice said from behind him, silencing the one on the wind. Looking over, Matthew saw America stirring, causing Russia to awaken as well. It was time to continue their journey…
There was a heavy silence most of the way, except for a moment in which America had asked Matthew to describe what it was like in the world from his time. However, that had trailed off quickly, because Matthew had trouble thinking of much good in that time, except for when England came to take care of him just before he had fallen into the sleep that swept him to this world. That, however, was likely not appropriate, seeing as Matthew had spent one half of it delusional, and the other half working on controlling the weather, that would lead to his control of the world.
Still, the little things like America's visits to go on crazy adventures, or the loud, chaotic meetings, or the time France had called in a panic because a girl had stood him up for a date (and Matthew had spent the next day trying to cheer the French man up with ice cream and soap operas), all seemed to cause a faint smile to appear on both of the other's faces. It wasn't exclusively happy. Actually, most of it was rather sad as the pair thought of the lost days they took for granted, but they still appreciated the gesture.
Matthew was beginning to wonder if, perhaps, they had forgotten most of it. It wouldn't be surprising, seeing as it had been centuries since, but…
"We're almost there," Russia said calmly, and Matthew looked up in surprise, having been lost in thought for a while now. Towering above the trio was a wall so tall, Canada had to crane his neck to see where it cut off. It was made of pure concrete, and every hundred feet or so had a video camera. The closest were all trained on them.
The way in, however, wasn't through some grand door that matched the wall itself, but through a much smaller one, dwarfed by the size of the wall, that was made of complete steel and held no noticeable handle.
Russia knocked on the door and stood back quietly.
Then a painfully familiar voice spoke up from a speaker hidden somewhere.
"You are here for the town's meeting, correct?" Said France's familiar, but completely foreign voice. "Come in… I will call an escort to the capitol."
"F-Francis?" Matthew's voice cracked, and his throat dried.
There was silence from the other side, and Matthew thought for a moment that France hadn't heard him and was already gone, but when an unnoticed static suddenly cut off, Matthew knew that France had been there the whole time.
The door creaked open, and a process followed that reminded Matthew very much of the security check of airports, except it was done exclusively by soldiers in full uniforms. They were very careful with Matthew, barely searching him at all, but the searches of America and Russia were very…. Thorough.
Besides that, the setup of the inside was very contrasting to the Wastelands. Everything was clean and orderly. The technology had clearly advanced more than Matthew's mind could comprehend. The soldier's spoke to seemingly nothing, but got responses in perfect sound quality from some hidden, unseen microphone. The walls were made of what appeared to be glass, but he couldn't see through it for the most part, except when he caught a glimpse of its functions; where the glass would turn see-through if necessary, or display a screen, or simply be a wall.
He once even saw a soldier take out a small piece of metal, which seemed only to hold a button on it, but when pressed, floated in the air and projected a fully working computer screen, keyboard, and mouse.
Through security at last, the three were led to where France waited. He first spoke to only Russia and America, while seemingly ignoring Matthew. He explained that the soldiers were waiting for them outside, and then went through several rules that he had likely been told to memorize, which stated that they were not allowed to talk to any of the citizen, that any interaction would punishable (by what he didn't explain, but it was likely he didn't have to), as well as having weapons, alcohol, beverages and food items that they were not specifically given permission to have, and a long list of other things that Matthew couldn't have memorized in those few moments, were all punishable in the same way.
Finally, they were motioned to the outside, but when Matthew attempted to follow, France stopped him. Now, his entire demeanor changed. He was thin, wearing the same clothing as England and having very sunken, dark eyes. He wasn't quite as subdued as the Brit, but he was still clearly frightened of him. Still, Matthew guessed France had received at least some briefing that this version of the Canadian wasn't the same as the one he knew in that time by how he kept looking him up and down, mind trying to put together some difficult puzzle.
"S-sir…" France started, then coughed, trying to keep himself calm and orderly. "I… I was a-asked to escort y-you to the meeting personally."
Matthew nodded. It was understandable; after all, Canada wouldn't want his former self to be treated like what he considered the lower class.
Matthew attempted a soft, kind smile that had won him favors from those who noticed him in a brief moment, but that just resulted in France breaking out in a cold sweat.
"Th-this way sir!" France bowed deeply, his voice rising in pitch, before he straightened and led the way out the building, into the streets of the most beautiful city Canada had ever seen. And when the citizens turned to look at him, their eyes sparkled with delight and they all waved as though he were a celebrity, excited to be graced with his presence.
That was one of the first times in a while that Canada truly wondered if this future was such a bad one.
