It was some time later that things calmed down, and Matthew found himself sitting on a makeshift stool with a mug of tea in one hand.
"I didn't know how strongly my people would feel," the boy with ancient green eyes told him. He also held a mug with the same brew in one hand, but the other was twining through Alfred's golden locks as the boy dozed with his head on the other's lap. "And I was never certain that something like this would happen, so I couldn't tell anyone- especially him- because if it didn't happen, it would have crushed him."
"But it crushed him anyway." Francis said quietly from the open window. The castle had a few rooms that were marginally defensable and useable. Arthur, as the youth that Alfred had refused to let go of had introduced himself, had managed quite well for himself. A trace of guilt lay in his face and voice. "The memories trickle back, now. I do not understand why..."
"It is the nature of Nations," Arthur sighed, "We forget what is no longer there. There are probably a few countries that have gone through the same, and we just do not remember them. If their citizens refused to stop thinking of themselves as belonging to that particular Nation, and the circumstances brought the lands and people back together- we would know them immediately."
"But Alfred... America..." Matthew said quietly, "He doesn't remember much. He's weaker than I've ever seen him. How..."
"He's New York now, and I am Avalon." Arthur murmured, touching the younger man's cheek. "I was waiting for America to come find me, with his optimism and strength- I don't know what happened after I was dissolved."
"He was distraught," Francis answered for Matthew, "A grief that we didn't understand, because we didn't remember. He was always good at acting- putting on a smile while his heart was breaking. I left him alone for only a few minutes..."
"But why would he have remembered when we did not?" Matthew asked, watching the sleeping boy. "Why was he the one with that burden?"
"Because we were wrapped together more tightly than I had thought." Matthew thought he saw the beginnings of tears in Avalon's eyes. "He chose my culture, my language, and alliances with me, even though he gave the appearance of breaking those ties completely when he revolted. Even though we fought so often, he—we-"
"You loved him." Francis sighed, "And he could not live without you, so he chose to follow you. We were off my northern coast when he vanished. He slipped over the side when our attention was not on him."
"And not long after that, his lands vanished beneath the ocean, taking much of his population with it."
"Idiot." The word was softly sighed, as Arthur looked down at the boy on his lap. "Only those who were elsewhere survived then. He was fortunate that those few were so stubborn...but I believe that is why he remembers so little. If there'd been another way..."
"He fought to help you." Matthew remembered, "Couldn't that have-"
"Artificial land wouldn't have worked. We are creatures of nature. My people couldn't have built it all. It would have been mostly that of Japan, or America." Arthur's fingers stroked one tanned cheek fondly, "Perhaps it was for the best that we both start over. And this time, I'll support him, and know when to let go. He's going to need help, from what you've said about his land."
"You'll both need help." Canada said. "And we'll be here. If the other Nations remember-"
"We were going to have him chose again." France recalled, "But I think he's already chosen you, Avalon. You weren't even there, and he chose you."
"Arthur?" The soft mumble pulled Matthew's attention back to sleepy blue eyes that were fixed on the one holding him. "Can I stay with you?"
"For now, Alfred," Arthur smiled, and Matthew could see the shine of love there, "Until you're ready to go home."
"Wherever you are is home." Alfred said quietly, and went back to sleep.
