SIGH. I have a lot of updating to do this month before I go to Anime Boston at the end of May, so expect a lot of uploads before then. I'm so bad a estimating how many chapters left, but looking at this one, now it is probably... dodoodo... Two chapters and an epilogue... Grr.. Probably won't finish them until after AB... That's okay though I guess... Prolong the suffering. evil time skips.
That'll happen a lot. Not meaning to rush, but I've been dying to rewrite my original story that I started in Eighth grade but stopped when I started this and now I changed so much of the plot. SIGH.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter! I actually started writing Dyami's part when I was PMSing and for some reason really sad. I was also listening to Patriotic songs, which you can tell when you read the scenery paragraphs. I'm so American. ALSO POO TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY. I GAVE UP ON THAT MONTHS AGO. It's too complicated to make everything accurate, I'm sorry. I did some research though!

Two Months Ago: North America

The shadows stretched all across the meadow now, and the air was cooling. Miles of golden wheat blew gently towards the direction of the sea, sending stray seeds and loose grain further into the trees. Far in the distance, a thin line of smoke rose above the treeline; the tribal camp was probably preparing dinner. Not that Dyami cared at this point. He continued to aimlessly pull out overgrown weeds and toss them into the wind. It took hours to walk – linger – up the hills and find the spot that was secluded and quiet. The sun reflected off the wheat and sent rays of gold dust to float carelessly in the air. Dyami leaned back and disappeared into the waves of grain, staring up at the sky. He sighed for the hundredth time that hour and rubbed his eyes with the palm of his hands.

The sky grew darker until the stars began to appear one by one, twinkling and shooting across the sky, like they were on a journey to find their true place amongst one another. Dyami was sprawled out on the ground, surrounded by a wall of still wheat, humming quietly while he stared at nothing. Crickets, bats, and other creatures of the night seemed to stay silent as the solemn atmosphere showed no signs of departure.

With the exception of one.

"Dyami-Yuma!" a loud voice called. "Dyami, I swear to the Spirit, if you don't come back right now, I will beat your backside with a stick!" It was a familiar voice.

Dyami blinked, snapping back to reality. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair to shake off the settled dust. Fireflies roamed the area, like little balls of flying fire.

He heard the crunch of wheat from the left and glanced up to see the outline of Ahmik. He was breathing heavily, like he was running around for hours without stopping. Dyami lowered his gaze and pulled his knees in, settling his chin on top. The younger brother tiredly fell next to him and caught his breath; they sat quietly for a while before Ahmik cleared his throat; his nose stung as he searched for words.

"I... I know how much he means to you. And how hard it must be for him to leave you. Remember last time I went up north with Father and you and I were a sobbing mess? Well, that was a tough time for both of us, but look! I came back! I know he'll come back, Dyami. Arthur loves you. You love him," Ahmik paused, taking Dyami's hand. "And I love you both; I hate seeing you so down." He wiped a falling tear from his cheek. "Please, Dyami. You can't just brood all day and not come home. We need you. Stop hiding from us and let us comfort one another! I miss Arthur too... Dyami, I... I never have seen you more happy then when you're with him. I can never give you his happiness, but I wish you can let me try and... make up for it..."

Dyami bit down on his quivering lip; gripping Ahmik's hand tightly. Pressing his forehead to his knees, he whimpered out a series of sobs. Ahmik leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his brother, letting the other release any strained emotion as he silently released his own. The day was finally gone and tomorrow had arrived; the two brothers held each other in the darkness of the night.

Present Time: London, England

Needless to say, when the carriage finally arrived at the Palace of Whitehall, Arthur flung himself out of the cart and onto the ground. He could finally move without the governor breathing down his neck. Collecting his luggage from the servant, he nodded to the driver and turned his back before the eyes of the human-from-hell peeked out from behind the curtain. Arthur escorted himself inside the palace and immediately went to his quarters, swiftly avoiding any other servants or monarchs. As he sped down the grandiose hallway, he also noted that his doorway was kept clean and polished during the time of his absence.

He felt the gust of wind from the balcony as he opened the doors. Setting his bags down by his desk, he walked over and locked the windowed doors shut. The room kept its same smell and his papers were never touched – or if they were, they were delicately placed back where they laid. All in all, it was like he never left. Falling onto the large bed that wasn't slept on in months, Arthur stuck his face into a pillow and screamed. Not a blood-curling murder scream, but a scream that was satisfactory enough to calm the nerves; if there was one.

A knock came from the hallway, it was light and quiet. Most likely a servant, Arthur concluded.

"Sir, His Majesty awaits you in the library."

He lifted his head off the pillow. "Very well, thank you," he replied back. Taking a deep breath, he lifted himself up and walked to the dressing room that was attached to his own. Although he didn't mind greeting his boss in his sailing-wear, surely others would mind. Grabbing a linen shirt, pantaloons, and breeches, he successfully managed to button it all without assistance. He slid on his most favourite boots and clipped a hip-length cape around him that he artistically flung over his left shoulder. Most men in the era wore their hair long or with a wig, but Arthur found it irritating and the last time he tried to grow his hair out, France made fun of him by mistaking him for a fuzzy, yellow caterpillar.

Unconsciously, he smoothed out his hair as he walked out of the room and down the hall toward the library, his cape floating gently behind him. A few servants stopped as he walked by and bowed their heads – sworn under secrecy, they were the only servants in the Kingdom who knew of His Personification.

The blond pushed the doors to the library open with one hand, letting the guards close it behind him. The King stood in the center of the walls of books and maps, overlooking documents and letters at a desk. The fireplace was lit and crackling in the corner. Arthur silently walked forward and lowered his head.

"Good evening, James," he said, "You called for me?"

King James looked up from his work and smiled, the corners of his mustache curled up and he kept the grin. "And a good evening to you, England. How do you fair?" he asked, walking him and the nation toward the fireplace. He pulled his long cape to the side and sat down on the elongated seat, crossing his legs over one another and ran a hand through his short beard. Arthur sat himself next to him and smiled.

"Well, thank you... well, now I am at least. It's... nice to be home." It hurt slightly to use that word. The fireplace crackled loudly. "Where is Anne?"

"In Dunfermline Palace; she is pregnant."

"That's wonderful. Are you to see her?"

"I will ride up in days to come. She enjoys spending time away from me," he said, not seeming to care. Arthur raised a brow.

"Perhaps it's you, Sire, who enjoy time away from her. You do seem to prefer male company," he replied back smugly. James chuckled and nodded .

"Yes, well, I received word that you did not find gold in the New World lands you searched... That is quite alright, don't give me that look. I was thinking," he began, staring straight into green eyes. "About colonization."

Arthur blinked.

Arthur almost fell out of his chair.

"England?"

"Colonization? Of the New World? As in, taking over? Prancing over there with guns and people and building homes and societies?"

James pressed his lips together. "Yes, that is usually the case... Are you alright, my friend?" he asked as the nation was nibbling on his nails. "Some people have already expressed their motives in moving... some have already left," he mumbled.

Arthur stood up, eyes on the fire. "I'll be in my quarters for a while. I have paperwork to send out to other before the next World Meeting... Prussia is supposedly holding it and we all know how that is suppose to go," he said, adjusting his cape. With a quick nod to the king, the Brit strode out of the room, colonization in mind.

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