The Divide
After he said those words, Alfred did not speak for a long time. And, even if he would never admit it, saying the words out loud had affected him greatly, he covered his eyes, and if Matthew had to guess, it was to hide the tears that were surely underneath. Canada had never heard what happened while he was away, but he had inferred this much from what he remembered of his mother. Apparently, she had shown signs of sickness much sooner than he had thought. He couldn't imagine the pain she had gone through in the years before well . . . yeah. England similarly shut down and didn't look at either of them. If they hadn't disposed of the alcohol, Arthur probably would have downed the bottle right then.
"It's late. I think we should stop," Alfred said, wiping his eyes. Before he could stand up and turn in, Matthew handed him some apple juice from the cooler. It wasn't the fancy stuff, but he hoped that it would buy him some time. If he let America stop here, he would never hear the end, and Matthew was no longer satisfied filling in the gaps with his own haphazard guesses.
"Hey, I know this is hard but I-" he started to say. Alfred shook his head, putting the apple juice down, leaving it untouched. Then, England interrupted while he gathered the fragmented remains of his umbrella.
"He has a point. I think by now we all know the ending," he said, about to make his own mad dash to one of the guest rooms upstairs. America grabbed his sleeve, halting him in his tracks. England sighed, letting the broken umbrella drop to the ground.
"Make up your mind why don't you? No one is forcing you to continue," he said, and Canada looked guiltily at the floor. He wasn't forcing him to continue per say.
"Sit down," Alfred said, and England complied but only after he tugged his sleeve again. Alfred opened the can of apple juice and took a swig. He had trouble putting the can down with his shaking hand. Matthew wasn't sure if it was nerves or if he was starting to hit the threshold where alcohol affected him.
From here on in, I had trouble understanding my mother. I didn't know why at the time, but I later realized it was Britain's fault. Before you say anything Arthur, it was an unintentional consequence of you trying to teach me English. My ability to mimic and comprehend other languages became less reliable as I started associate words with English. So just about everything I'm telling you from this point on, I pieced together long after.
For the first time in a while, America wanted to stay put. If he went outside, the man might get him, and what if his mother needed him? No, he wasn't leaving the hut, no matter what anyone in the village said. They had been lucky to be found by the same hunter that had tried to teach him before, apparently his mother had anticipated something like this happening. Maybe, he didn't quite understand what the hunter had said. The important thing was not to panic and stay. He would get her water. He would make sure she didn't get worse. He wouldn't be a bad son- not again.
The hunter and more importantly, the village healer entered the hut to examine his mother. Previously, he had laid his head on her chest to reassure himself that she was still breathing. Knowing better than to get in the way, he moved, only to end up next to the hunter. He spoke rapidly, and he only caught a few words in between the Ayashe's and Ageni's. Still, America felt better when the hunter patted his back and offered him fish. The gesture consoled him more than words ever could. As for the elder, he mainly observed, occasionally shaking his head. What worried America most was that his instincts had been correct, the elder wouldn't touch her.
"We both know what she has, but I know not what it means for one such as her,"The elder said and what was said, made the hunter sad. America watched them both, fidgeting nervously. The elder hadn't even tried giving her medicine. He only did that when the person wasn't going to last very long. The hunter turned to him and patted his head, saying something in a voice so low that America didn't hear it. Right now, he didn't care. Alfred wished they would stop messing with his hair. One day, some tuft of hair would stick up and never go back down.
"And the boy? Should we try and remove him?" Whatever was said, the elder clearly didn't agree. He shook his head, looking down at America.
"You are young. Still full of life and unaware of a spirit's potential wrath, it is best not to upset either until we are fully aware of Ageni's ailments," the elder said, and the hunter unexpectedly grabbed America. He was too preoccupied to struggle. So long as he didn't leave the hut, it didn't matter.
"But the boy, surely, he will get infected if he stays here," he said. Another string of words that meant nothing to him, until, the hunter stood and prepared to remove him. America stiffened and immediately developed a vice grip on the man's arm. He hated being small and easy to carry, he hated being taken away all the time, and most of all, he hated being told what to do. He wasn't leaving the tent, and they of all people should understand why. He'd break the man's arm if he had to.
" Again, you see a boy. I see a frightened spirit who does not yet understand his place. He is stronger than you think. Let him be," the elder said, and Alfred understood the gist of it. He increased his grip on the man's arm to further prove the elder's point. The man hastily put him down and inspected his arm-only a little red. America smiled, letting him know that he wasn't sorry. There was a change, one that by now Alfred had witnessed many times before. He wouldn't be picking him up again, and he was fine with that. He didn't need another parent. The hunter begrudgingly sat down. America ignored him all together and sat closer to his mother. The elder said a prayer, familiar enough to relieve some of America's anxiety. Taking out an assortment of herbs, he addressed America in a way that was usually reserved for his mother with a careful and reverent respect.
"Ayashe, I will do what I can to help her, but it is important you do not leave. If she does not wake up, you will have to take her place," he said, and America looked down, uncertain how to tell him that he understood little else but his own name right now. He shook his head, and the elder frowned.
"Can't you see your exploits have brought your mother nothing but harm?" he said, and by the biting tone, America knew he didn't get his point across. What could he say? Could he still speak to them? Alfred could feel the tears beginning to pile up. It was all getting to be too much.
"I don't understand," America said, and both the hunter and elder looked at him curiously.
"What don't you understand?" the elder asked. He grabbed a fistful of his robe and played with the fabric, trying to focus on saying as much as he could with as little words as possible.
"Most words since man took me," he said. The hunter seemed shocked at first but gradually became angry as the gravity of the situation sunk in.
"How could this happen? Didn't she teach him anything? Did he-" the hunter's words came out faster than usual. Alfred mainly paid attention to the elder who had grown somber but otherwise remained calm.
"Hush, what's done is done, you must understand that they perceive time differently than we do. No one expected these strangers to come and make training him as soon as possible so crucial," the elder said as Alfred tolerated him patting his head. He started preparing some sort of medicinal drink, and Alfred found it eerie how the elder stared at him the whole time.
"Ayashe has spent time with this other spirit, and I fear he has left an impression. If he adopts the stranger's ways, it does not bode well for us," he said. The hunter nodded, and Alfred wondered why they kept staring at him. He didn't mean to forget words. It just kept happening.
The elder attempted to shake his mother awake, resulting in mild groans and labored breathing. She refused to open her eyes and turned so most of the pressure was redistributed to her side. Alfred frowned, patting her cheek repeatedly. She responded with a low whimper. America hesitated. Did it hurt? He flinched when she grabbed his hand. Her eyes fluttered opened and immediately fixated on him.
"Where-" she started to ask him before the elder cleared his throat and stepped forward.
"This young man brought you and Ayashe back to the village when you failed to return on your own," he said, gesturing to the hunter. She nodded, shakily sitting upright, strength still diminished and eyes still muddled. She pointed to her lap, and America obediently sat down, not minding so much when she played with his hair.
"Ageni?" the elder asked, appearing perturbed by her utter lack of focus. She eyed him wearily, using her free hand to bring attention to her injured leg and scarred face.
"What do you expect me to say? I will die as the rest of you are slowly succumbing to ailments you do not know how to cure. I am no different. The only question that remains is when," she said, bouncing him on her good leg. The two men appeared to grow even more uncomfortable after his mother spoke, and the hunter in particular more frustrated. The elder recovered first and handed his mother the remedy he concocted. She drank it gladly and uttered a thanks.
"Surely, a spirit cannot die so easily. You are not like us. You are strong. This sickness is nothing," the hunter said, causing his mother to laugh. Generally, she only laughed once in a blue moon, and America wondered what he had said that was so funny.
"I am not the same, but I am no god. Do not underestimate how much I need all of you. You give me my strength. Perhaps, this won't kill me, but many are dying, more than ever before, it will affect me, even if it doesn't destroy me completely," she said, coughing as if a rock was lodged in her throat. The two men exchanged worried glances. The elder sighed and dismissed the hunter. He did not leave right away, instead taking the time to memorize his mother's features. The elder asked him to leave again, much less patient than he used to be. He must have taken his mother's words to heart, whatever they were. He obliged but not before saying goodbye to him personally and ruffling his hair. America pushed the hand away grumpily. The hunter wasn't put off by his reaction and waved goodbye to his mother. She acknowledged him with a nod but otherwise did not seem to care if he stayed or went.
"I will be strong for you," he vowed, and that at least, earned a smile from her. Like Britain's, they weren't easy to get. The elder similarly gave Ageni a lingering look as if she might disappear if he blinked.
"I have done all I can. Rest, I don't think he will run off anytime soon," the elder said, sparing him a glance. He turned his back on the elder and nestled closer to his mother. Ageni nodded, stroking America's hair and whispering reassurances to him. The elder finally left, and America looked up at his mother. He had lots of questions.
"What's happening? Why is everyone so worried? You'll be okay right?" America asked. She kissed his forehead.
"Do not worry. I promise you'll be okay," she said, encircling him with her free arm.
I think that was the first tactful omission I ever heard. She never promised me she would be okay, and I wasn't picturing my life without her at this point. That would change quickly.
"Good," he said, latching onto her arm. He noticed some more welts there which hadn't been there before.
"Am I going to get sick too?"
"I don't think you will. Your future isn't the same as mine," she said. Alfred furrowed his brows in confusion. That didn't make any sense. They were always together.
"Yes it is," he said, and instead of arguing with him, she started humming some remembered bird song. Unfortunately, any bird song now reminded him of the man and his strange stick. He tried desperately not to think about it, tossing and turning to make himself more comfortable. She held him more tightly, and the humming became more pronounced. He stopped struggling, taking the hint. Sleep took hold of him and for once, he wasn't worried where he would end up next time he woke up.
America stopped abruptly and nudged England who had started to show signs of dozing off. Arthur jumped slightly before realizing where he was. He yawned and looked for a clock that simply wasn't there. Canada preferred things this way. When he was in this cabin, he was looking to get away from it all and the abundance of snow created an alien time sucking void Canada could use to think. Most other people would go crazy spending weeks here, but when Matthew returned from vacation, it was easy to tell the difference if they could see him at all.
"Before I continue, I need you to explain how the hell you didn't notice I was gone long enough for us to escape. It's been bugging me for decades," America said. England rubbed his eyes and focused on the wall for a few minutes. He stretched, pushing Kumajiro off his lap who moved to Alfred's instead. Arthur looked down and started to speak. The words forced and tired for reasons that had nothing to do with lack of sleep.
There were problems at home. I was preoccupied writing letters and looking over reports, among other things. I honestly didn't think you'd leave after your change of attitude that morning. The sudden quiet didn't bother me. Of course, it should have, but all the same, you were simply lucky. Oh, shush, I am not a horrible guardian. Don't' you nod your head too, Canada.
Britain finished reading Charles's letter, basically telling him to come home for a visit because the entire parliament was being boorish. Again, Arthur had an inkling this wasn't something that could be solved by one measly visit. And then, there was the matter of the boy. . .
The boy- where was he? He collected his papers and surveyed the area- gone. Of course, he had brought him outside too soon. Well, Alfred couldn't have gone too far. He checked for any signs of where he could have possibly gone. If he had kept to the stream, maybe, he could find a muddy footprint- nothing. Hmm . . . a few fallen leaves, he traversed the bushes, noticing more fallen leaves, but the trail dried up before he could find the little bugger. He searched for an hour, finding no further signs of him in the nearby area. No, he couldn't have lost him a second time.
"Alfred! Alfred! Come out or I'll never let you go outside again," he shouted, and as soon as he said it, he realized threatening the boy at this stage was counter intuitive. He collected himself and tried again.
"America, please come out. Aren't you hungry? Would you like some pie?" he asked, and this time some hare popped its head from the bushes. Remembering his fondness for rabbits, he grabbed it. The thing struggled and kicked, but Arthur kept his grip on the thing, expecting Alfred to come out and retrieve it. After a few minutes, it became obvious that this wouldn't get him anywhere. He freed the rabbit, and it scampered off. He could keep searching, but the boy had obviously traveled farther than he had imagined. But how? He narrowed his eyes- the witch. Blast it all. He had practically delivered him on the silver platter when they entered the woods. By now, the damn woman could have reached an Indian encampment. Arthur wasn't foolish enough to try and take him directly, if she had. Still, all he had to go on right now was a hunch. He kept walking, having a better idea where to go. The closest village was no secret, and he had found Alfred wandering alone last time, not that he expected it to happen again.
He neared the encampment, unable to see him from its outskirts. How could he properly search for him without arousing suspicion? So, he waited, and sure enough, a man, different from the others, judging by his clothing and ornate staff, went into a hut in the center of the small village. Perhaps, he was there. Under normal circumstances, Arthur could have easily walked into the village and be welcomed as a guest. Right now, he wouldn't be treated too kindly for taking the boy. So, he would have to return at nightfall and try to retrieve him then.
So, I left and went to talk to Sweden who had proven to be decent company before. Our second encounter unfortunately did not prove anymore fruitful.
"You're leaving?" he asked, astonished to see Sweden packing. Berwald nodded, handing things off to Tino.
"Some of my people will stay, but there is nothing for me here," he said, slinging a pack over his shoulder.
"But I need some advice," he said. Berwald adjusted his glasses and looked him over.
"Very well, sit," he said, gesturing to the log. They both sat, and Berwald told Tino to go on without him.
"What did you want to talk about?" he asked, offering him some leftover meat. He took it, mulling over a question that had been plaguing him since he started a tug of war with that savage woman over Alfred.
"I lost the boy again. Should I stop trying to take him?" he asked. Berwald sighed, made all the more disapproving by the man's hunched figure, his sheer size adding to the intimidating gargoyle-esque frown.
"I think you came to talk to me, not because you plan to take my advice but because you want to hear yourself talk. At the end of the day, you will not listen," Berwald said.
"So, you're not going to help me," he said as Sweden chewed on a piece of meat. He payed special attention to the grass below him as he chewed. For a moment, Britain thought he wouldn't hear anything else come from Berwald's mouth. He was mistaken.
"Leave the boy. He obviously does not want to stay with you. Even if he did, like me, you cannot stay forever. What will you do if you have to return? Would it have been worth it to leave the boy with no one to care for him, then or are you just that selfish? " Sweden said, and Britain scowled.
"Oh, What do you know? I'll get him back regardless. Maybe, I'll even take him with me, " he said, and Sweden shook his head, preparing to leave.
"This has been pointless. I hope you someday understand why this will end badly for you," he said, walking away. Britain muttered curses under his breath, choosing to leave the abandoned camp as well. Selfish-poppycock- was is selfish to feed him? Clothe him? Teach him? What had that woman done really? Leave him alone in the woods multiple times, that's what.
Again, I visited France. Oh, don't you both look at me like I'm daft. His advice had helped before, and I was still miffed at Sweden.
"Hello, you British bastard. What do you need now? Crème Brûlèe? Ice cream? Pie? Barging in during lunch, I cannot work under these conditions!" he said, pointing his sword at him, still completely enraged from their last meeting. He held his hands up and tried to diffuse the situation.
"I'm not here to extort more desserts from you. I need advice," he said, and France reluctantly lowered his sword. He pointed his dirty French finger at him.
"Fine, sit down, eat, we will talk after lunch and not before," he said, and Britain nodded. Arthur obliged, glad for the bread and soup. They didn't talk as Francis requested. Once they had both finished eating, France washed the plates by the stream. Britain sat there awkwardly, waiting for him to return. It occurred to him that like Sweden, France didn't actually have a permanent residence here, yet he showed no signs of leaving and calling it quits like Sweden did. Then, he couldn't always find him hanging around. Where did he go for weeks at a time? He wasn't given much more time to think about this as France returned sooner than expected.
"Go ahead," he said, sitting down on a conveniently nearby rock. Britain didn't mind sitting on the mat but was annoyed that Francis towered over him by simply sitting on a rock.
"I lost him again," he said, leading Francis to mutter abruti.
"And, what do you expect me to do? Wave my hands and conjure him here? Either learn to keep an eye on him, lock the door, or I don't know, actually get him to like you," he said, and Britain suppressed the urge to slap him.
"I think he might be with his mother. If he isn't, he is lost in the woods. I need you to check and make sure he is in the village," Britain said.
"You want a favor?" he sputtered, and Arthur nodded.
"They trust you," Arthur said, and Francis shook his head.
"You're on your own. I am not getting involved," France said, slicing his hands through the air.
"Do you think I'm selfish?" he asked.
"What does that have to do with anything?" France asked by now irritated by his presence.
"Sweden said I should leave the boy alone," Britain said, and France patted his back.
"You should but you won't," he said. Arthur thought about it, giving up almost seemed preferable at this point but . . .
"Why would you say that?" he asked. Francis shook his head, taking a drink of water from some container.
"Because, long ago, there was a little boy alone in the woods who wished someone would come along and take care of him. You won't leave him alone because he reminds you of yourself," Francis said, giving him one more pat before returning to his tent.
"Whatever you do Britain, remember this boy isn't alone," France said, and he decided it was time to leave but not before whispering one more thing.
"What do you know?"
I've heard enough. I get the idea. As for what I was up to, well, it wasn't much. I didn't leave my mother's side for several days. What I remember most from that time is the look of utter desperation on her face when she could not get me to understand her. Then, there were the times I understood her perfectly, and in that small window of time, she tried to teach me as much as she could.
"So even if you get attached to a person, you have to understand that they will make mistakes, and you must make decisions based on the good of the whole not the individual," she said. America nodded even if he didn't really understand. When would he ever have time to get attached to a person? Let alone enough to jeopardize the land and the people. He wasn't that interested in them. They didn't seem all that special.
"Now, this doesn't have anything to do with your lessons, but Ayashe, I don't want you to be afraid of going outside. Take a break," she said. He pointed to her, and she bit her lip.
"Yes, I'll still be here when you get back, just don't leave the village," she said, and America nodded. He could pick her some flowers maybe. There were a few growing in a small patch of land in the outskirts of the village. So, he walked and noticed instead of ignoring his presence like they usually did, one or two villagers would stare at him and whisper. The hunter was even bold enough to follow him to the dirt patch.
"Hi, I'll be fine. You can go," he said, picking flowers. Normally, he would leave them alone, but he figured that his mother hadn't seen something this pretty in a while. The hunter shook his head.
"It's my fault you were taken the first time," he explained, and America frowned.
"No, it wasn't" he said simply, noticing one of his rabbits in the bushes. It looked strange, the eyes weren't quite right and the fur looked more like that blanket the man had given him once. The hunter didn't argue with him, but he didn't leave either. He went over to the bunny and patted its head. It felt weird too. The hunter attempted to grab it, but America got in his way.
"Don't do that," he said. He didn't like people taking his bunnies, and only mildly accepted that they were a good source of food. The hunter listened but continued to hover. He tried to pick the bunny up only to find that it wasn't a bunny at all. It was a hand, and soon, the other hand snatched him up.
"No," he screamed and scrambled away when the hunter slammed his war club on the man's arm. He couldn't hear what the man was saying, but he didn't particularly care, focusing on gathering the fallen flowers. The hunter grabbed him before he could pick them all up. The hunter shouted for the nearby men to come although America knew the man had already gone. The hunter returned him to his mother, and he held up the pitiful broken flower.
"Oh, Ayashe, thank you, but I don't think you should stray too far from the village's center from now on," she said, coughing again. He nodded, hugging her torso. She embraced him, and proceeded to explain how land disputes between tribes worked as well as why it was a bad idea to make a land treaty with the strangers who often misunderstood what all the contract allowed them to do. America nodded, thinking it would be a long time before he could actually do his mom's job. It sounded hard. He could barely keep his bunnies alive, let alone people.
"When I'm gone, there will be no one to take care of you. I have charged this village with your care, and that man who we owe a great deal of debt has offered to house you," she said, and America squeezed her more tightly.
"No," he said, and his mother rubbed his back.
" Shh, I have no intention of dying, but if I do, I want to know you'll be in good hands. I care for you and your brother very much,"she said, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"Who?" he asked, and she laughed lightly.
"You'll see him again soon when I am well enough to travel. Perhaps, then, you will remember. He looks just like you," she said, and he blinked, the memories slowly resurfacing, oh yeah, the weird kid with the polar bear.
"Pahana?" he asked. She nodded, a sudden deep frown taking over her features. Then, it happened again. She started to speak, and the words were unfamiliar. He shook his head. She tried again.
"No matter what happens, never forget who you are. I will not always be around to remind you," He burrowed his head into her chest. She sighed and said some more things that he would never know.
"Never mind, just please, do not forget me," she said, cradling him closer.
So yeah, there was a lot of talking, and I almost never left the hut in the next two weeks. And, it so wasn't Arthur's only attempt to grab me either. I had lost any semblance of trust I had in him.
"Ayashe, you can go play with the children. If you can tell me, what you have learned in the last two weeks?" Ageni asked. He petted the bunny on his lap and mumbled a response.
"So, I can hear you," she said. He looked up and answered.
"Don't try and grab bunnies that look strange," he said.
"And?" she asked, and he let the bunny run out of the hut.
"Not to run into the forest if I hear cries for help," he said, even if it still sounded wrong. The whole thing had turned out to be one of the man's convoluted plans, and the damsel in distress had been France.
"Besides that," Ageni said, looking for a particular answer.
"Don't eat strange food even if it tastes yummy," she slapped her forehead.
"No, not what I was looking for but please don't do that again. It's not like I starve you," she said, and he nodded.
"Stay where the other villagers can see me?" he tried again, remembering her repeating that a lot.
"Yes, good, what else?" she asked, and he thought of the other ways the man tricked him.
"Don't listen to the strangers because they lie?" he said, and she nodded.
"And, come ask you if I'm not sure what to do," he said, and she ruffled his hair.
"Exactly, you can go play now, and don't be afraid, the people will look after you," she said. He hesitantly stepped out of the hut. He played with the kids for a while, and usually, this was enough to entertain him, but eventually, he would realize that they thought very differently. Playing the same repetitive game was fine so long as they could run around but America needed a challenge and tag could only offer so much stimulation. Bored again, he looked for the bunny he had released a while ago. He whistled, so he wouldn't have to go into the forest and look for him. Instead of hearing the bunny come through the bushes, he heard the man's flute. He froze, waiting for the man to show himself. He didn't. Instead, he heard the flute play a different tune, closer this time. America backed away some, not much but enough to reassure himself the man could not suddenly grab him from the bushes.
"Go away, I don't want to play anymore," he shouted. The bird song stopped, and he felt his heart thumping rapidly. No doubt, he would try to snatch him again. He was about to run when the man finally spoke.
"Wait, don't you want to know why I keep coming to get you?" Britain asked.
"I don't care," he said, picking up some rocks and throwing them at him. Arthur ignored the rocks, wincing when one hit him square in the forehead. Alfred stopped. The man was bleeding.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
"It's okay. I understand you're upset, but if you could, would you mind doing me a favor?" he asked, and America backed away some more.
"I'm not trying to trick you. I just need to ask you some questions," he said.
"Questions?" he asked, moving a little closer. The man, previously relying on the foliage for coverage, nodded and stepped out into the open. No one was around. It made America nervous.
"Yes, you're speaking quite well, by the way," he said.
"No," he said. He couldn't even understand his mother most of the time now. This was another fluke. The man crouched down to meet his eyes.
"Yes, now, tell me, why do you think I came?" he asked. Based on what he knew of the man, he had an idea of what he wanted to hear.
"To protect me?" he asked. The man nodded, beckoning him closer. He shook his head. The man held a small flat disk.
"Biscuit?" he asked. Alfred came closer, taking the disk. He sniffed it. Some sort of bread? He took a bite out of it, like most foods the man gave him, not too bad but not that great either. The man picked him up. Alfred finished the biscuit and attempted to squeeze out of the man's grip. Much like before, it didn't do him much good.
"Calm down. Nothing is going to happen to you. Would you like another biscuit?" he said, holding up another one. Alfred took it, satisfied when the man didn't try to run off with him.
"Now, tell me, why do you think your mother sends you outside?" he asked. He nearly chocked on the biscuit. Had the man been spying on him? He wiped the crumbs from his mouth.
"Because she worries about me," he said.
" Really? Isn't it possible that she's sick of you and wants some time to herself?" Britain asked. Alfred swallowed the gritty bread. He hadn't thought of that.
"I guess," he said, absently accepting another biscuit. Ageni never seemed to mind him being around.
"So, wouldn't it be nice to give your mother a break?" America bit into the biscuit. Britain had a point. He nodded.
"Then, come with me for a little while," Britain said, putting him down. America looked back at the village and then at the man.
"You'll bring me back?" he asked. Britain took his hand.
"Of course, we will be back in a few hours after I show you my ship," Arthur said. Alfred remembered thinking that would be the case when he entered the house. He wondered if it would end up being a similar experience.
"Ship?" he asked.
"A ship is like a giant house that floats in the water," Britain said. America nodded, thinking it actually sounded interesting.
"Splash?" he said.
"Sure, we could go to the beach afterwards, but it will take longer. You might have to spend the night," Arthur said. Alfred stopped walking, dropping dramatically to the floor.
"No," he said. Britain rolled his eyes and picked him up.
"Fine, no beach then," he said. Alfred pouted. It had been a few months since he'd been in open water.
Okay, Canada, you look like you want to slap me upside the head for going back. Relax, after two weeks of trying to force me to go back, he dramatically switched tactics. For one, he kept his promise.
"See, wasn't that better than being cooped up all day?" he asked. Alfred didn't answer, finding it hard to keep awake, but he knew better than to close his eyes. He'd end up right back in the house.
"There, run along" he said, putting him down. Wobbly, he took a few steps forward and fell down. Arthur helped him up.
"Did you like the ship?" he asked. Alfred nodded, rubbing his eyes. At first, the sheer number of trees they had cut down to make all those ships had upset him. Arthur had quickly shoved a biscuit in his mouth and used the sail as a slide to placate him. After that, he had run up and down the thing, much to the man's chagrin. He wouldn't mind visiting the ship again.
"Good, next time we'll go to the beach," he said, giving him another biscuit. He took it and ran off.
We did and again, he let me go afterwards. My mother had no idea, and by now, the hunter did not find it necessary to follow me everywhere, particularly when I spent the majority of my time in the hut. While she wasn't getting worse, she wasn't getting any better either and nothing the elders tried had any effect, not the remedies, not the sweat lodge, and not any sort of ritual. I was starting to accept that my mother was on permanent bed rest, and it made field trips with Arthur all the more appealing.
"I'm glad you have been spending more time outside, Ayashe, but the elders tell me that they cannot find you for hours at a time. You are not wandering too far are you?" she asked. America shook his head furiously. She poked his belly.
"You also seem a little tubby. Have you been asking the villagers for extra food?" she asked, making America's face flush. He shook his head again.
"Then, you probably just need more time to run and play. Go ahead, I'll teach you a little more about farming when you get back," Ageni said, and America made a face.
"It's important, especially if you want to keep your fat belly," she said, poking him again. He hugged his belly, feeling self conscious. He'd have to lay off the biscuits that the man kept offering him. America casually navigated away from the crowded center and headed to the outskirts where the man was waiting for him. He looked a lot different today, wearing even more ostentatious fabric, America liked the red coat and the hat, especially the feathered hat. Alfred ran at him, and Arthur embraced him. He was used to being carried by now and did not struggle when Arthur lifted him up.
"Where are we going today?" he asked. Arthur tried to fix his hair. Alfred shoved his hand away. He still didn't like that. Britain offered him a biscuit. He shook his head. Arthur shrugged and ate it himself. Like every other time, he was quick to take them as far from the village as possible. Alfred looked back, tightening the grip on the man's neck.
"I said where I we going?" he asked. Normally, Arthur told him right away. Arthur stuffed a biscuit in his mouth. Alfred begrudgingly ate it.
"Home," Arthur said, causing Alfred to disentangle himself from him and attempt to escape, but Arthur had a good grip on his torso. So, he was basically kicking nothing and impossibly trying to squeeze out his fat belly from Arthur's grip.
"So, I take it you don't want to go to the house?" he asked after a few minutes of Alfred kicking uselessly. Alfred stopped and nodded, hanging limply, the sack of potatoes feeling returning. Arthur patted his head.
"Too bad," he said, and Alfred bit his arm. If he really thought he was getting away with this a third time, he was sadly mistaken. The man flinched but did not immediately let go. He tickled his belly with his free hand, catching him completely off guard. Alfred tried biting harder so Arthur would be forced to react. Somehow, he had memorized all of his most sensitive spots. Alfred finally laughed out loud, and Arthur stuffed another biscuit in his mouth. He ate that one too.
"Tell me, who have you been spending more time with lately?" he asked. Alfred didn't look at him. The man lifted his chin and forced him to meet his eyes. Alfred gulped, tasting the remaining scraps of biscuits stuck in his throat.
"You," he said, not even registering when Britain had given him another biscuit. The man lifted him higher and instructed him to hold onto his neck. He did so, and the man even went so far as to manually close his eyes. He didn't open them.
"Okay, so does it make sense for you to live there when you spend most of your time with me?" he asked, and Alfred mumbled a no.
"This is what's going to happen. Today, I will take you back when the sun begins to set. You will tell your mother that you want a separate room because you haven't been sleeping well. I will pick you up in the morning. You can visit whenever you like from then on, but you will for all intents and purposes be living with me. Do you understand?" the man asked. Alfred nodded, feeling tricked even if he did say he could visit whenever he wanted.
"So if I wanted to spend a whole day there, I could?" he asked.
"You will always return at night," Britain said. Alfred nodded automatically. He blinked profusely, wondering when he had picked up that impulse, another biscuit made its way to his mouth.
"Excellent, now try to cheer up, I bought you new toys since I noticed you were getting tired of the old ones," he said, instantly improving Alfred's mood.
"Yay, toys," he said, opening his eyes and holding onto Britain more tightly. Arthur ruffled his hair.
"I thought that might bring you around," he said, letting Alfred run into the house who never noticed the door locking behind him.
So, that's how I ended up living with the British devil. Ow, that's not what the hockey stick is for England. Only Canada is allowed to do that.
