Arthur knew they would win. England would win, and Alfred would be forced to listen to reason. His son would understand, and Arthur would have his child back in his arms. They would work together to remove the thoughts of the American rebels and they would win. He knew they would.

Well, that was until he saw them on the battle field. Gilbert and Francis. Fighting. With Alfred. Against him.

Arthur never felt an anger such as that. He knew what was going on, he knew it. They were working to put Alfred against him! They were going to take his son away, and they were going to throw it in his face. He might have expected this from Gilbert of all people, but Francis to be helping them?

He fought with a fury unknown to all that day, making plans for that evening for him and the two traitors on the battle field.

Hours later he found himself walking through the American camps. He had dressed as closely as he possibly could have to them, walking through and trying not to get noticed. All he wanted was to talk, really. He just wanted to talk to Gilbert and Francis. Yes, he still carried his fun with him, but that was only for emergencies.

"Arthur?"

He turned to see the voice that called to him, seeing the albino immediately. Gilbert looked both concerned and confused. The embodiment held his hand up in between Arthur and himself.

"Arthur, what are you doing here? Mein Gott, do you know how pale you are? Arthur, you need to get back to your camp, are you lost or something?"

Arthur stared at Gilbert, feeling his anger rise again. He smiled, in what he hoped was a reassuring way, dropping his gun to the dirt, "I just want to talk to you, Gilbert. Please."

"Arthur. . ." Gilbert still looked confused, surprised more than anything. He stepped closer to Arthur, wary but unguarded. "Alright. What do you want to talk about."

Arthur smiled weakly, relief in his eyes. "Thank you." He moved his hands, taking something from his belt. "What I really wanted to talk to you about is," His eyes darkened, showing the insanity behind his anger. "Is about how you're trying to take my son away from me." Arthur lunged forward, removing his dagger from it's sheathe completely and aiming the point for Gilbert's chest.

"Arthur, what-" Gilbert stopped his words, feeling his back hit the crates behind him and a blade push through his chest, barely missing his heart. He stared down at the Englishman, mouth open in shock. He stared down at Arthur's grinning face, the tears streaming down his cheeks as he laughed.

Arthur pulled away, leaving the blade in Gilbert's chest, and watched the Prussian slide to the ground, shock still etched across his features. Arthur laughed again, though weaker, the realization of what he'd done finally hitting him. His anger was still feeding his mind, but his thoughts cleared enough for him to understand.

"Gilbert? Come on, Gilbert, we don't have time for this."

Arthur stood fearful, looking to where he heard the voice. He knew it immediately. He would always recognize that voice. Francis was coming, looking for his friend. Francis would not be happy. Arthur needed to move, but he couldn't lift his feet.

"Gilbert, why the hell are you on the ground? Gil-" Francis had walked right past Arthur, not noticing him as his friends condition caught his eye. "Gilbert? What happened. . ." Francis began looking around, anger in his blue eyes. Then he noticed Arthur.

"Arthur? What- Were you the cause of this?"

Arthur stared silently, his lips moving to form words, but no sound coming out. He felt Francis look from him, to Gilbert, and then to his bloodied hands. He felt Francis' confusion and anger. And he knew before Francis even made a move that the Frenchman was going to make a run for it. Arthur felt anger fill his system once more, understanding that Francis wasn't even going to give him a chance to explain.

Arthur lifted his gun, sprinting forward as Francis turned to run. Arthur was somehow faster in his rage, cracking the butt of his gun against the back of Francis' skull. He was breathing hard, glaring down at the Frenchman as he struggled to turn and look at Arthur.

"This is what happens, Francis. This is what happens when you try to take my son away from me." Arthur lifted the gun into the air again, dropping it against the Frenchman's head with an angry sound, "No one will take my son away from me! No one!" He hit Francis again, "YOU AREN'T TAKING HIM AWAY FROM ME!" With one final, angry cry, Arthur shoved the gun against Francis' head, and watched the Frenchman finally go still.

"Shit, Arthur."

Arthur followed the voice, seeing Gilbert standing once more, paler than before. His expression was angry, and his hand was wrapped tightly around the switch to give off an alarm. Arthur tried to get to the Prussian before he could cause the alarm, but it was too late. Sirens filled the air, as soldiers moved quickly towards the source.

"Run, you fucking bastard. No wonder Alfred wants to leave you."

Arthur dropped the gun, and turned to run. He took a few weak steps, noticing something he didn't see before. A girl with blonde hair and blue-green eyes watched the situation, mouth dropped in shock. She looked so familiar, and Arthur racked his mind, listening to soldiers getting closer, trying to figure out who the girl was.

Shock surrounded Arthur as he realized. The sound of soldiers faded, along with the images, leaving him and the girl in a blank room with no sound. Arthur mumbled her name softly, seeing the tears in her eyes, "Sophia. . ."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Arthur woke up with a shout, finding himself sitting up with tears on his face. He saw her, standing at the edge of the bed, staring at him with almost disgust in her eyes. He felt Francis moving next to him, probably trying to wake himself up enough to look at Arthur.

"Sophia? What are you doing in here," Francis sat up, looking to his daughter. He blinked slowly, trying to get used to the darkness, but soon looked to Arthur, seeing the look she was giving him.

"Dad and I had the same nightmare. Uncle Lukas told me that dreams, especially nightmares, are often times memories from a nation's past. Dad, I don't care what your reasons were, I just want to know if that really happened."

Arthur sat in silence, losing the ability to speak like he had done in the dream. He could feel the stares of his daughter and husband, and more than anything he wanted to say no.

"Dad! Did it happen!" Sophia hardly ever yelled, and here she was, confusion and disappointment filling the room.

Arthur had to look away as he nodded. He listened to her gasp, then her footsteps walk quickly from the room, the door clicking closed behind her. Arthur shook uncontrollably, feeling Francis' arms wrap around him.

"Which one was it?"

Arthur sighed, "My reaction to you and Gilbert helping Alfred in his revolution."

Francis tensed, and Arthur knew he wanted to reach to the scar they both knew rested on the back of the Frenchman's head.

"It wasn't a. . ."

"No. It was from an outside perspective. Not from mine or yours, I don't know why she saw it. It's to early for her to get a nation's memories anyway," Arthur felt bad for snapping at Francis, but he had felt the same worry. He was worried about her reaction, and God did he not want her to know about that side of him. About what he could do, what he could become.

Now she did.