England was locked in the small bedroom again, pointedly told by Yao to, "Get changed into something more suitable. We have a very busy day today." England would have asked what was wrong with the clothes he was wearing—even if they were rather plain, they were a friendly baby blue colour and comfortable—but he then realised that they were extremely creased and the bottom of his trousers were smeared with mud and pieces of leaves from his earlier trek in the woods.

A set of royal blue garments were neatly folded on the bed. They seemed flashier and tighter than what England was currently wearing, and it was with great reluctance that he peeled his clothes off and replaced them with the more regal ones.

He examined his appearance in the large mirror in the wardrobe. He immediately decided he hated the clothes. They looked expensive and new, but his general hatred of his kidnappers and the world he was in made him immediately look for faults. The material was scratchy, for one thing…

"Ugh, I hate this so much!" Alfred was staring into the mirror with a look of disgust, willing his reflection to somehow change and show something a little less ridiculous.

Arthur sighed, crossing his arms, but had to hide a smirk. Alfred looked so uncomfortable, it was almost cute… "It doesn't matter if you hate it," he said, trying to keep a professional front. "You are now the King of Spades. You have to dress properly."

The 'King of Spades' pouted. "But, Your Majesty, I—!" Alfred spluttered and tried to retract his mistake when Arthur scowled darkly. "I-I mean, Arthur! Sorry, Your Ma— Arthur! Gah!"

"Alfred," Arthur sighed again, more tiredly. It obviously wasn't the first time this had happened. "What have I told you? You can't call me Your Majesty. You're the King. If anything, I should be calling you Your Majesty."

The look of disgust was back. "Oh, please don't. I can barely live with the Jack— er, Yao calling me that."

"Then you must know how I feel about this." Arthur looked away, fiddling with the fabric of his clothing slightly. "Honestly... You had no problem calling me Arthur before…"

"That's because I didn't know who you were! You didn't tell me you were royalty." Alfred looked hurt. "After all of that, you didn't tell me," he muttered.

"Why do you think I didn't tell you? Just look at how you're acting around me now!"

"Yeah, but…" Alfred frowned. "…Shut up."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "That's more like it." He turned away and went towards the door. "Hello? We're ready now!" He knocked on the door, trying the handle.

"D…" Alfred's eyes widened. "Did they lock us in here?" he squeaked.

"That right," Arthur said, obviously not bothered by this. "It's a precaution."

"…For what?"

Arthur smirked at Alfred. "I'm well known for my escape attempts…"

England stepped backwards, reeling slightly. Another one of those visions, those 'memories.' They fitted inside his head perfectly, filling empty spaces he hadn't known were present.

What did they mean? The memories seemed to belong to the England from this world, or Arthur, as he was called, but why would England have Arthur's memories?

And there was something else. Something about the America in that memory had bothered him. Alfred… had been acting almost exactly the same as America. It wasn't like Alfred had been unfriendly; there was just something 'wrong' about him. But what, exactly?

He noticed his clothes from the world meeting, folded tidily and hidden in a corner of the wardrobe. No one had found them, luckily. They were the only thing England had that told him he wasn't crazy, that he really was from the world he had been kidnapped from.

England was snapped out of his melancholy when a sudden strange buzzing sound cut through the silence. England looked around wildly, tensing when it stopped for a few seconds only to start again.

It was his phone. England could have laughed at his own stupidity. His mobile phone was buried in his discarded clothes. He lowered himself to his knees and started tentatively searching. Phones worked between alternative universes, apparently

He accepted the call, placing it next to his ear cautiously. "Hello—?"

"England! Dude, are you all right?" It took everything England had not to drop the phone. How was this possible? "Where are you?" America's urgent voice yelled. "I've been trying to contact you for ages! Are you okay?"

"America…" England said slowly. "I… I'm fine. Well, obviously I'm not fine, but… This is probably going to be a little hard to believe, but I'm trapped in an alternative universe, and—"

"England?" America's voice sounded desperate. England tried to speak again, but what America said next quickly killed his words. "Come on, please… Say something!"

England pulled his phone away, staring at it in disbelief. Couldn't America hear him?

"T-this isn't funny!" America said angrily. "D-do you know how worried I— we all are? First Liechtenstein and Japan vanished, and then you…A-and another country's disappeared too! W-what the hell's going on? …Look, just tell me you're all right! Please!"

This was a new form of torture, England decided. He was listening to the frantic voice of the man he had wanted to hear from, but he couldn't say anything to tell him where he was or even calm the terrified tone in his voice.

"America…" England chuckled coldly, hearing America's hurried ramblings continue. He murmured something quietly, something important, but only because he knew America wouldn't be able to hear him. Otherwise, he would have never said this.

He ended the call. He couldn't listen to this anymore.

—Chapter end (edited)