Story Two
Little feet, only one encased in a shoe, patter down the hall. America had escaped his after lunch lessons today and has no doubt been searching for trouble ever since. He's back before nightfall though, England will have to count that as a victory or at least the first hint of one.
England hears a door open and close from his study. The footsteps quickly approach. He takes a sip of his tea as The Governor continues his speech. He doesn't give a hint that his attention had strayed for even a moment.
The door to his study swings open. It slams into the wall. The governors words stop abruptly. No servant would be so careless. They at least know their manners. The Governor likely can't even see America from where he stands. The colony doesn't pause for a moment. England feels little hands clutch at his arm from beside the chair. He doesn't look down. It would only show America the weaknesses he could exploit.
"America, do not interrupt business discussions." To England's delight the hands release him. "Now Governor, do go on. You were saying something about the moral fiber of our nation. If I remember correctly, you called it a disintegration of society."
It's an argument that England has heard frequently. Every other generation or so humans start believing that their youth are wild and have no respect for the pillars of society. And by the grace of God the nation has survived each of these severe threats. Christ above, they can be so dramatic. He doesn't feel the slightest amount of guilt for ignoring the Governor's rabble in favor of revealing in America's obedience.
When the Governor's moral outrage has flown out and left him flushed and ruddy, Arthur tilts his head toward his colony. America has stood quietly staring up at England with wide blue eyes. His lips are pressed tight together. England's heart softens even if his posture does not. "Now America what did you want to say to me?"
America looked up at him with big blue eyes. "Come on lad, out with it." America parted his lips and red flowed out.
America parts his pale lips and red pours out. The blood was dark and thick. It flows over his chin and sinks into his shirt collar. England springs to his feet. Memories of plagues rise up with him. "God Almighty!" America's eyes go wide. England falls to his knees at America's side. England's hand flutter around America's head. The lad is clearly injured. He prays that he's not bleeding internally but there is so much blood. He needs to examine the lad. He touches his head lightly. His hands are steady as the rest of him trembles. His thumb presses America's chin down opening his mouth further. He prays he's not making it worse. A dark brown something sticks out of the pool of blood. "What on Earth did you do?"
America's gurgles something back. "No don't. Governor, a doctor!" The man still stands uselessly from his spot at the mantel, gaping in shock but still holding his tumbler delicately in between his fingers.
As soon as the stick is removed from where it's impaled in America's palette, the colony begins to return to himself. By the time the wound has been cleaned, sealed, and clotted America is pushing away England's hands. Even as the lad carefully, but joyfully, eats his dinner, a thin potato soup and not the planned beef, England finds himself hovering. Every time America lifts the spoon into his mouth England waits for it to injure the colony. Every time the lad notices, he huffs and pouts as if England is the one who over reacted.