England and America looked at each other intently. America had fire in his eyes, as did all the men that were with him. Each of them were carrying a rifle or gun of some nature. If they were all in matching uniform, England would have mistaken them for some small army; this group of dissenters were in various clothes, all of which suggested the common man.

"What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?" England asked, coming up to America.

America had a hard look, almost like a mask hiding something, but England could not tell what. "You are going no further," the young nation said in a voice of authority England had never heard from him before. It was commanding, like a general's tone.

"America, throw down your arms," England said, rolling his eyes. Surely, America was not serious in this little protest? "As you can clearly see, my troops outnumber yours. I could take you out in less than a minute. Throw down your arms now, and I will see that the punishment for your men is light."

"Yeah, right." America spit at England's feet, which riled up England's soldiers.

England put up a hand and they all settled down for the time being. "Put down your weapons, you little…"

"Or what, exactly?" America said, "What exactly are you going to do to me?"

England could feel himself being torn apart. "Don't force my hand," he said, angrier than he actually felt, "You have been causing me trouble for a long time. I will not hesitate to put this little rebellion down." In reply, the front line of England's troops aimed their rifles at America's rebel soldiers. England got back up on his horse. "Now for the last time, put down your arms!" England did not want to use force on America. He truly didn't, not to his little brother. England had the power to completely crush the little colony; he prayed it wouldn't have to come to that.

America sighed angrily and slowly started to put down his weapon; England figured America knew the same fact about his strength. England could hear some unrest in the group of rebels, but that was to be expected. If any of them were to run, they would be shot without hesitation. No one was going to escape.

At that moment, a shot fired. England turned to find the source of the sound as he heard his own men fire in response. He saw a young boy with determined navy blue eyes holding a musket. England was frozen in shock for a moment, before realizing that this wasn't some random boy. That was Massachusetts, disguised as an innocent young boy. She did that way too well, in England's opinion. England and Massachusetts locked eyes for a moment. She nodded and disappeared into the house she was standing in front of.

"I hope you know what you have started, you devil," America said, and for a moment, England could have sworn there was a red tint in America's eyes.

England shook his head, his eyes starting to swell with tears. The fog in his head had cleared considerably, but it still lingered. The daydreams were still very vivid, and it confused him even more about what was truly going on.

"Your silence is deafening," Wales said. He was in another part of the room, looking through some of England's old books.

England blinked… "Was I saying something?" He couldn't remember.

Wales sighed, "It's not important."

"But I was… wasn't I?" England looked down at a notebook he grabbed to keep track of what was going on. He had made no note about being in a conversation with Wales… just stuff about the previous night, with America being an ally instead of an enemy.

"Please, don't stress yourself," Wales said calmly, walking over to England and placing a hand on his hands, "I said it wasn't important." All the same, Wales' eyes looked hurt.

England stood up, "I'm going to walk around. Maybe I can clear my head."

"That sounds like a good idea. Let me…"

"Alone, Wales." England sounded harsher than he had intended.

"Alright, then." Wales sat down in a chair. "Just… come back when you're done, ok?"

England started roaming the halls. He once did this in a proud way, in command of a grand nation. But now, seeing the things hung in the hallway… he felt sad. Shadows of things that once were, and he had a bad feeling they no longer were anymore. He had no idea what happened.

England pulled out a letter that he found in the study. It was addressed to him from an unknown sender, with a wax seal of a unicorn. He eventually stopped and opened the letter. He had to know. His curiosity was too great.

He immediately regretted it. White smoke sprung from the letter and he couldn't breathe. England fell to the ground, flopping about. His eyes watered. Surely, he couldn't die. He was a nation… his mother was a nation though, and she died.

Minutes and hours passed. England didn't know how long he lay there before he was found by one of the last people he wanted to look weak for. Queen Victoria.

She looked panicked as she got people to come help him up. She had just lost her husband. She couldn't lose her nation too.

England blinked. He was in the hallway alone, breathing fine. The letter was close by on the ground. His hand was twitching furiously. Slowly and carefully, England slipped the letter out of the envelope and read the contents. There wasn't much there, just a doodle of Scotland grinning saying "I got you."

Anger rose within England. He could have been killed by a prank. From Scotland of all people. But of course, it would be Scotland. That nation had wanted England out of power for years. Well, England was certainly going to give Scotland a piece of his mind. This was beyond childish; this was irresponsible. He made the queen panic. He hadn't seen Queen Victoria with that kind of look since… since…

England knocked on the door and waited for a reply. A personal, business visit. The kingdom was to switch hands to a new monarch, and England had heard some rumors about this one. 'She's weak, not fit to lead,' they said. Well, England was going to find out for himself.

The door opened and a 17-year-old girl stood in the doorway. Alexandrina Victoria. "Good day, sir," she said politely, "I heard you wanted to see me." England noted that she had a German accent.

"Yes, may I come in?"

Victoria nodded. Once in the room, England asked, "I hope I am not interrupting anything."

"No, sir. Though I do wonder why the most mysterious member of the court is here to visit me. Most men visit my mother, or Sir Conroy."

"You are to be the future queen. I figured I would introduce myself and see what kind of person you are."

"You are the only person who has made that effort." Victoria stated.

"I'm not surprised." England was well aware of what the Duchess of Kent and Sir Conroy were planning, and he was not at all happy with it.

"What have you heard of me?" Victoria asked, and England could see her true feelings for a moment. She looked terrified. She knew what was to come in the near future.

"That you are weak, and unfit for the throne. That it would be better for someone else to take that place until you are ready." England stopped and looked at Victoria. "However, those are rumors, and I have been with the court long enough to know that people will talk about anything and everything. I want to hear it from you. Are you prepared to take the throne?"

"I won't know until that time comes, but I won't shy away from it." Victoria now had a determined look in her eyes.

"That's very mature of you."

"I have to be in order for people to take me seriously."

England nodded, he understood how that went all too well. "I look forward to see what kind of ruler you will be, Princess Victoria." England bowed.

"Tell me," Victoria said, "What is your name and what is your role in court? No one gives me a straight answer."

Arthur?

England blinked and he was back in his home. In front of him stood Victoria… but it seemed unbelievable to England. She was just a few millimeters shorter than England. Her long brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had a pale face that reflected the light. Her eyes were a hazel color. They looked confused.

"Victoria?" England asked slowly. Her clothes were nothing that the Victoria he knew would ever wear. Denim trousers. A t-shirt. She wouldn't be caught dead with anything like that. Not for a lady of that time.

"Fancy running into you here," Victoria said, half amused, "What are you doing here?"

"I live here…" England raised an eyebrow, "I did not realize that you would come up visiting this region when your uncle is close to dying."

Victoria's face fell to confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"You do understand that he will die soon, don't you?" England felt the fog cloud his mind again. He fought against it. He would not be taken in again. He shook his head. Something was wrong. Why wasn't Victoria in a dress?

"Arthur… what on Earth are you talking about?"

"Your uncle… William IV… he is dying. How can you have forgotten that?"

Something seemed to click for Victoria, but before she could say anything, a very loud someone interrupted her. "There you are!" America said, coming up behind England. "You gave us all a scare, old man…"

Victoria looked at America with a lot of confusion. America's presence had that effect on a lot of people.

"Hey there," America said awkwardly.

"Um…" Victoria looked between England and America, a question forming somewhere.

North grabbed England's hand, "Come on, Arthur. There's something I need to talk to you about. You two take Victoria to the kitchen. This place is really big and easy to get lost in."

Before England could protest, he was dragged away. North took him to the sitting room, and closed the door with a sigh of relief.

"What was that all about?" England protested, "I was doing fine!"

"I'm sure you were."

England was getting a bit fed up with having to be watched all the time by everyone. Why were they keeping such close tabs on him? "Can you at least tell me why Victoria is here? It doesn't make sense."

"Wait… you know her?"

"Of course I do! She's to be the new queen very soon. I would hope that I know at least what she looks like."

North bit his lip. "England… Queen Victoria died some time ago. The girl you saw… she's just a human who shares her first name."

England closed his eyes. The words cut deep. Memories of Queen Victoria's life ran through England's head. He felt unstable, and he wished there was something to stable him again.

He felt North guide him to a seat. North wrapped an arm over England's shoulder. He started humming quietly. Usually, a song would calm England, but he knew the song… This was an Irish song… A pang of guilt hit England.

"North?" England asked slowly, "How much did you lose of your Gaelic tongue?"

North stopped humming. His eyes looked conflicted. England remembered that he had banned him and Ireland from speaking in Gaelic, and that he was harsher to North about it than to Ireland. "Enough… but… I'm regaining it a little. I don't think I'll ever be as good at it as I once was, but I won't lose the language for good."

'How much damage have I done?' England thought guiltily. He drove out so many people not only from their homes, but their ways of life. And for what? World conquest? Was it worth it?

North started singing again. It was something that North did during times of distress. England knew why too, for North told him once. Music brings back times of peace and comfort, things to remember when life got tough.

"Buachaill ón Éirne mé 's bhréagfainn féin cailín deas óg.
Ní iarrfainn bó spré léithe tá mé féin saibhir go leor.
'S liom Corcaigh 'a mhéid é, dhá thaobh a' ghleanna 's Tír Eoghain.
'S mura n-athraí mé béasaí 's mé n' t-oidhr' ar Chontae Mhaigh Eo."

England let himself sink into North's shoulder as his mind unwillingly swept him into another memory.

England and Wales had been wandering around the house looking for Northern Ireland. No doubt the newly appointed nation needed some company. Ireland had just pulled out of the Union, and North chose to stay with it, forming the new nation of Northern Ireland.

"Why would you side with him?!" Ireland's voice shouted from behind a door.

Both England and Wales stopped in their tracks as they heard the reply from Northern Ireland, "I am not siding with anyone! This is just my choice. I have nothing against you."

"But… he… don't you understand what he has done to us?"

"What he has done to you. I have no quarrel with him."

"That's because he has brain-washed you. Can't you see?"

Wales turned to England. 'Well?' Wales mouthed. His face was, as usual, unreadable. Though recently, even Wales' poker face sometimes gave sudden flickers of the emotions lying underneath, no doubt the feelings of his people.

England sighed and opened the door. Indeed, the Irish twins were in the room. Ireland looked as though he could kill someone, mostly England. Northern Ireland was mad as well, so much so he was on the verge of tears. They both looked at England and Wales as they entered the room. Northern Ireland ran into Wales' arms, which accepted him immediately. Ireland locked eyes with England.

"I think you should go," England said, "If you are going to terrorize my household."

Ireland did not say a word, but left the room all the same, bumping England in the shoulder as he passed by. England would have loved to fight Ireland at that moment, but he kept his instincts in check. There was no good fighting in that room at the moment. Not with Northern Ireland looking like he could cry at any given moment.

"Come, let's go to your room, ok?" Wales suggested kindly to Northern Ireland. They left the room, leaving England alone with his thoughts.

Author's Note: Two steps forward, one step back. Jumbled memories of the past that haunt him (except for that one where he first met Queen Victoria). Now, we could sit here all day talking about what would haunt England, but... (looks at next chapter)