The front door opened, then slammed shut. Loud footsteps could be heard coming from the hallway and going into the kitchen.

"Arthur!" Mint exclaimed. "You're home! How was school?" The sprite was intensely curious about how Arthur had faired at living a normal sort of life for once.

"It was bloody horrible," Arthur grunted, dropping his backpack at the bottom of the stairs and taking a seat at the table.

"What happened? It couldn't have been that bad."

Arthur sighed. "Mint… He's exactly the same," he whispered, dropping his head into his arms.

Mint didn't exactly have what most people would call tact, so she didn't get my Arthur was so down. "Isn't that what you wanted though? C'mon, Arthur, cheer up!"

"It's not that, it's…"

"…it's what?"

Arthur really didn't want to share the embarrassing events of the day. But he knew that he could not get the sprite to be silent any other way, and he knew, surprising as it was, that she was not the type to spread gossip. "Er… Well, we ran into each other. Twice."

Silence. Then—

"Literally? Ha, that's hilarious!" Mint exclaimed as Arthur growled at her. This was rather the reason that he had not wanted to say anything.

"It isn't really. It bloody hurt getting knocked down to the ground twice." Although as the personification of England, he had gotten used to much worse throughout the many wars his people had fought.

"So what happened? Did he go the gentleman route and be all nice about it, or was he the typical dunce he really is and act like it wasn't his fault?"

"The latter, of course." Arthur frowned. "It really was an accident both times, though very coincidentally, and he likely figured that it not being his fault meant that he did not need to be properly polite." He had sort of apologized, at least the second time, but he had brushed it off so quickly. But what Arthur was really upset about wasn't Alfred's behavior about that, because in all actuality it was not really that big of a deal. He was just using it as a way to vent his true feelings, because even though Mint was a dear friend, he really just needed to muddle through them on his own at the moment.

Arthur was upset that Alfred did not know him at all, to be honest. He knew that he was being childish, and that there was no way that this Alfred could know him at all, but that rational side of him couldn't stop him from feeling this way. He tried to convince himself out of it anyway. Honestly, what had he expected? Had he really thought that this Alfred would somehow, deep down, realize that they had a connection in another world? The American never had believed in Arthur's magic, so it was very likely that the idea of other worlds actually existing had never occurred to him.

It had always been Alfred who was the idealist, Alfred who thought that everything would all somehow magically work itself out, despite his lack of belief in real magic. Arthur was supposed to be the realist, the pessimistic one, the one who believed in Murphy's Law fully. But now, Arthur felt that their roles as he knew them were being reversed by him being in this strange other world. After all, he knew he had little chance of actually accomplishing anything by conforming to this world as a teenager, but he had done so anyway. With a lot of help from Mint, of course. A lot of help.

After the spell he'd used to get here had disappeared from the Book, Arthur did not even want to go back down to his basement for fear that he could do something else to damage it. Besides, he knew enough spells by heart that he did not truly need the Book. He only used it anymore for the really difficult spells - those with long incantations, or those that required complex recipes. Or, as had just been the case, those spells which he still had not tried. However, when it came to finding a way to get himself into a public school without arising rightful suspicion, he was at a loss. So he turned to Mint.

Unlike Arthur, the sprite had been raised in magic ever since she had been born, and her knowledge of at least the existence of specific spells far surpassed his own. His only source of spells had been the Book, and only once he had received it, but Mint had a full life's education in it by the masters. It was truly a pity that the Fay, by law, could not share this wealth of knowledge with any human. Ah, the things he could learn!

But even if she could not tell Arthur how to cast the many spells that he did not know, that did not hinder her from doing them herself. The Fay had a different approach to doing magic than humans did, so even if the British magician memorized everything she did, he could never replicate the spell. With her assistance and guidance, Arthur wove a complex magic that would allow him to completely blend in to this world without anybody of importance wondering where he had come from or, hopefully, any other abnormal things about him. Having been in this world for not even a full day when he had formed this magic, Arthur did not even know if the street name that his house was on was the same as in his own world. However, when he tried to find out just where exactly he was, he was amazed to learn that he had somehow ended up in America.

Of course, the first thought that came into his mind was that the cars would be driving on the bloody wrong side of the road. It was only then that it hit him that having the physical appearance of a teenager meant that he wouldn't be able to drive at all. How would he get from place to place? He couldn't walk everywhere; it would take too long, and besides that, he didn't know where anything was in this world. Honestly, this spell was proving to be very inconvenient. One would think that it could have tossed a map in or something at least. It was certainly a good thing that he was in a more modern age than when the spell had been created, because this day and age had computers, and computers meant the internet.

Arthur had already spent several hours just surfing the internet, though it was very uncharacteristic of him. But he was searching for clues, anything that might bring more sense to him of the inner differences between this world and his own. It seemed like politically, at least, everything was the same, though there was the noted absence of country personifications. In his world, all of his citizens had known who he was, and even many people outside his borders and recognized him. But now, he would have to deal with being a complete stranger to everybody. Well, at least this world didn't have a "replacement" for him. That might have been more than he could have handled. He simply could not imagine being anything other than England, and he grew angry at just the thought of somebody trying to take away his very being.

Goodness, he felt like he was going mad. His thoughts had no clear pattern, and random tangents kept begging to be chased in his mind. His analytical side supposed that he was still in shock from the sudden switch in worlds that had just occurred to him. Honestly, this was madness! This type of spell-gone-wrong madness happened only in books, not in real life!

He had to give his brain some sort of constructive thing to concentrate on, or he'd just keep rambling on like this. He wished he could go down to his basement and just practice spells for hours, but he still did not want to dare going down there, in case whatever force that had erased the spell from the Book was still at work. There was no telling if it had been a onetime thing or if it was a lasting effect from some foreign source. He supposed that he could try scrying to chase the mischievous back to its origin, but even that magic could possibly expose the book to even more damage. He really was regretting casting this stupid spell. It seemed like more of something to mess up one's life rather than helping one reconnect with people.

But the thing was, Arthur couldn't really deny that the spell had worked, and worked all too well. He had gone to school, like his situation had demanded of him – while he had cast his cloaking magic, he had managed to sneak himself into the school system as well. And at said school, Hetalia Academy, within minutes of arriving he had managed to meet the one person whom he had both been hoping to meet and to avoid. Or not "meet," exactly. More like "collide with." It really had been bloody embarrassing. He himself had apologized first, since he was a proper gentleman and had not known whom he had run into at the time. But then he had seen that face shine up at him, a face he had not properly seen in a long time.

The Alfred of this world seemed so much like his own Alfred, the one he knew so well. They had the same hair, the same face, the same voice, the same mannerisms, the same annoying way of being able to shake problems off so easily. But there was one difference that Arthur had not expected and would not be of substantial interest to anybody else, yet it was one that made all the difference in the world to him. This Alfred did not wear glasses. Most of the other countries back in Arthur's own world were used to seeing the American with his glasses. But Arthur had raised his Alfred since he was a very little boy, and he had been with him almost constantly. The face that he had gotten used to seeing from the boy was his own pure face, full of hopes and dreams and neither clouded not shielded by anything. Sadly, it was also the face that had glared at him in defiance and utter outrage during the Revolution. Arthur had secretly been almost glad when Alfred had gained Texas and donned the glasses that he had worn almost ever since. It was amazing the difference that glasses could do to a face. In a way, they were what had helped him to stop mourning over the loss of his precious colony.

But now, it was like he had been abruptly shoved back into those days from so long ago. Was this what the spell did? Took what were both the worst and the most precious memories from him and forced him to deal with them? If Arthur had been thinking more logically and anybody else had been the one in this situation, he would have immediately seen the sense in it, but as it was, it just seemed cruel.

…and look, once more his mind was wandering into things that he really would rather not linger on right now. He was always like this when he got depressed; his thoughts would just keep escalating and escalating into more and more dismal of thoughts until before he knew it he was drunk and unconscious. And in this world, and having the appearance of a teenager, he really did not want to know what could happen to him if he got drunk and decided to leave the house. So he needed to find something to do now, before the vicious cycle dug a deeper hold onto him.

He could make himself a cup of tea. Or he could talk with Mint – wait, where was Mint, anyway? Apparently, she had floated off somewhere while he had been stupidly wallowing in despair. So much for all those fancy words about how she wanted to help support him while he was stuck under this curse of a spell. Oh well, he supposed that finding the sprite would give him something to do besides sit and mope around.

"Mint?" Arthur called, getting up from the table. "Where did you fly off to?"

He heard a muffled tinkling sound coming from upstairs. Frowning, he went to the bottom of the stairs and called out again. "Mint? Are you up there?" More tinkling, and what sounded like heavy objects being moved around. Frowning, he started climbing up the stairway.

Following the noises he heard (which was more of a feat that it sounds, since for whatever reason his house always had somewhat of a maze of an upper level), Arthur found himself in front of his closed bedroom door which, he discovered shortly, had been locked.

He rapped on the door. "Mint! I know you're in there, open up!" He was starting to get a little worried about what she could be doing that she would sneak away and lock his door. The sprite was well-known for both her spontaneity and her love of surprising people. However, both of these traits tended to lead to catastrophe. Given that, Arthur figured that he ought to get her out of his bedroom as soon as possible, or find out what she was doing at the very least.

The door wouldn't budge, and Mint apparently had very selective hearing at the moment. Swearing to himself, Arthur racked his brains for a spell to unlock the stupid door. When he remembered one and angrily recited it under his breath, the whole doorknob sizzled and fell off. Well. He certainly hadn't expected that strong of a reaction from such a simple unlocking spell, but then again, he'd always had trouble keeping his power in check when he was upset.

He swung open the door - very easily now. "Mint, just what are you up to in..." he trailed off as he stared at his bedroom in horror.

The busy little sprite looked over her shoulder at the gaping Brit in surprise. "Ah, darn it Arthur, you weren't suppose to see until I was done!" she squealed. She flew over to him, making a poor attempt to hide from him the modifications that she had made to the room.

Arthur impatiently brushed the sprite away, barely remembering to be gentle because of her size. "What on earth did you do to my room!" he yelled. This was going beyond her usual pranks. What the heck had made her think she had the right to do this?

"But, but, but Arthur!" the sprite whined, "I figured if you're going to blend in here, you're going to need to do it all the way! What if someone comes in here, wouldn't they get suspicious?"

Arthur rubbed his temples. He really, really hated it when she had a good excuse for things. It made it so bloody hard for him to argue his way out of it. "It's not as if I were planning on bringing anyone back here."

"But didn't you say you were going to try to fit into this world as long as you were here? Isn't that why you snuck into the school and used your super ninja spy skills to act normally any everything?"

"Mint," Arthur replied, gritting his teeth. "I will attempt to blend into this world, but I do not plan on getting used to it here."

Mint was terribly confused. "Then why the heck did you even cast that spell in the first place?"

"I didn't think it would be anything like...this," he hissed. A whole year? In a body like this? With...with an Alfred like that? Encountering the American like that every day was just going to be unbearingly painful. But...he was acting foolish at the moment, he knew that.

Calming down, he said, "Look... Quite honestly, I don't know why I cast that spell, alright? All I wanted was to be able to go back to that old relationship we had. He was... He was like my son, my little brother, and my best friend all rolled into one. I tried my best to keep that, but then he went and had that stupid Revolution, and I lost the best thing that ever happened to me. Don't you see, Mint? So I can't stay here and act like everything's normal. You said this spell lasts for a whole year? What happens if, in that time, I get attached to something here? I wouldn't even be able to come back if I wanted to, the spell bloody disappeared from the Book." As Arthur finished his outburst, he sunk to the ground and buried his face in his knees, as getting everything off his chest at one had drained all of the strength from him.

"I-I..." Mint stuttered. She swallowed and blinked her eyes, two things she did excessively whenever she was nervous. "I'm sorry, England, I really am!" she burst out quickly and flew hastily out of the room.

Arthur sat there, stunned, looking at the open door. Mint never called him just by his official country name. Heck, most of the other countries referred to each other by their human names on regular basis. Country names were only used during meetings or when being very formal. Darn it. If Mint of all people were acting like this, he really must have hurt her just now. How did he always manage to mess up relationships like this? It was no wonder he was always alone, really. Probably no one could even stand being near him.

He sat wallowing in his stupidity for a few minutes, then, sighing, got up to survey the damage that Mint had managed to inflict on his room. Honestly, that girl. She knew he'd liked this style when he was younger, but nowadays he found it rather scandalous. He hadn't been into the punk style for years – centuries, in fact. And who actually would have this style these days, anyways? Yeah, he would admit that he still sort of liked it, but he was a proper gentleman now, and gentlemen did not parade around in punkish fashion. Even in another world, he still had his dignity.

Mint, however, had different plans for him. She had completely redone his room – his bed, his desk, his other furniture. Heck, she'd even ruined his walls; she'd plastered them over with all kinds of posters. Arthur walked over to his closet, fearing the worst. If she had changed his room, that was one thing, but if she had messed with his clothes, he wouldn't even be able to leave the house anymore. But it seemed that Arthur had luckily come in at just the right moment. His clothes were untouched. Thank goodness for that, at least.

Satisfied that his life wasn't completely ruined for the moment, Arthur went over to his bed and sat down. So now what? He had practically blamed Mint for everything that had gone wrong, even though she'd had nothing to do with it, and she was only trying to help him. He was just so frustrated with this whole situation that he hadn't bothered to think.

Arthur was both mentally and physically drained. His constant run-ins with Alfred that day had boosted up his adrenaline immensely, though he luckily had enough self-control to not act too strangely. And now there was this whole stupid mess with Mint. He really wished that life just had a pause button or something so that he could take a break from all this madness. He briefly recalled that he probably had a spell to accomplish that, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. He didn't want to mess this up further with more magic for once.

No, when he really thought about it, he just wanted to sleep. Maybe this whole thing was really just a dream, and when he woke up, everything would be back to normal. All he wanted was to go back to his normal life, back where he actually knew what was going on, and where the actual countries were, not these people who just seemed like copies. Even if it was convincing, that's what he had to keep repeating to himself. If he allowed himself to delve deeper into this world, he didn't know if he'd ever be able to bear to bring himself out again. He would never admit it to anybody, but this world just seemed too good to be true, to be honest. A chance to start again, to really start again, with everybody.

…he didn't really want to keep thinking about this. He had to just focus on getting back. He had to dwell on the past, like he always did, not just forget about it and move on.

Not even bothering to take off his clothes, Arthur laid down on his bed and closed his eyes. Maybe just a little nap, he thought, slowly drifting off. A little rest…is all…I need…

He was in a field. He was standing on a knoll of dried straw-like grass in the midst of a wide expanse of wildflowers that were gold, red, green, purple, orange. Tall evergreen trees rimmed the wide area, isolating the place from everything around it. The sun was just about to touch the horizon, and it was casting a golden glow on everything it touched.

After the initial sights, the landscape made its mark on the other senses. The birds chirped their melodies as they flitted from tree to tree, and butterflies drifted lazily about and in between the flowers. He breathed in deeply. The flowers – in fact, the whole meadow – gave off a warm, comforting scent, powerful and gentle at the same time, like a woman softly singing a lullaby to her slowly nodding off child.

For a moment, he just stood there, admiring the view. It was beautiful, truly. It was a land of wonder, a land of possibilities. It was the ideal place to relax from all the turmoil that was happening back home. And what made it all the better was –

"Arthur!" a voice cried from behind him.

He turned around, already knowing whom he would see.

A small figure, a very young boy in a pure white gown, ran toward him, tackling his leg as soon as the distance between them was small enough. "I missed you, Arthur! It's been so long! Why did you take so long to come back?" Tears were starting to form in the corners of the boy's eyes.

He chuckled, bending down to pat the young boy's head. "I told you I'd be back, Alfred. You didn't have to worry. I'm not going to leave you forever."

"But you were gone for so long this time! I missed you so much!"

He lifted the small boy up and held him in his arms. "Don't worry, lad. I'll always be around for you. I'll always protect you." Always, he though fiercely. Nobody was going to take this child from him.

The scene changed. They were in a house now, an old looking home made of logs, furnished sparsely but neatly. He and the boy were sitting at a table together, eating a meal. The boy was older now, and instead of the pure white gown, he wore a simple cloth shirt with an open vest, and pants that were starting to look slightly worn. He was eating his food happily, and next to his plate, there were several familiar looking handmade toy soldiers.

The boy looked at him suddenly, beaming brightly enough to chase away any storm. "Hey, Arthur?"

He smiled back kindly. "What is it, Alfred?"

"When I get to be as big as you, do you think I'll be as cool and fun as you too?"

This took him by surprise. "W-well," he started, rubbing his hand backwards through his hair and laughing nervously. "When you get older, you get to be whoever you want to be. You are the one who decides who you will grow up to be."

The boy continued to stare at him with those large, innocent eyes. "Arthur, I want to be just like you when I get older! I want to be just like my big brother! That way, we'll never have to argue or anything, and we can be together forever!"

Something melted inside of him. "I'm sure you'll be the best little brother in the world," he assured the boy.

Again, the scene shifted. It was back in the field again, only this time the flowers had all withered away and the sky was stormy and overcast. The bitter wind tore at the group of soldiers the boy who stood in front of him. No, he couldn't call him a boy anymore. He was a man now, and he stood tall and straight, determination shining through every fiber of his being. The clouds had been threatening to burst, and now they did, sending gallons of waters pouring over their heads, soaking the area within minutes.

Still, the staring contest continued. Neither he nor the man was willing to make the first move. Finally, the man spoke.

"Hey… England," the man called, voice full of resolve and removed of fear, though it was so clear to him, the one who raised him, how shaken he was at the moment. "I've decided. I…I can't live with this anymore. I want freedom!" The last word practically tore itself out of the man's throat as he tightened his grip on his gun.

He looked on in torment as the man continued his tirade. "I can't handle this anymore! Why do you refuse to acknowledge me as my own nation? I don't want to be bound to you anymore!" The man's eyes blazed with steely hardness. "I'm not your little brother, England!" he shrieked.

No. No no no. Not this. Anything but this. Everybody was leaving him. Not Alfred too. Not after all this time. He couldn't lose him, not now. He couldn't be alone again!

If his little brother wouldn't stay with him willingly, he would stay with him by force.

Hardly knowing what he was doing, he rushed through the mud at the man, taking him by surprise. Burning with anger and adrenaline, he shoved the bayonet on his gun at the man, but he was thwarted when the man brought his own gun up like a shield, barely in time to block the attack. Seething, he used his gun as a lever and flung the other man's gun into the air, making it land several yards out of reach. Fear filled the man's eyes as he realized the situation he was in.

"You naïve fool!" he hissed at the man, who was staring at him in disbelief. "Did you really think that you could just get away with whatever you wanted?" But the man didn't make a move to get away, even with a gun cocked and pointed at his heart, just continued to stare with that stupid blank look of his.

He slowly began to pull the trigger, but suddenly his hands began to shake. And still, those pure blue eyes continued to beat down upon his face, full of fear and disbelief that he could be cornered in such a way. Disgusted, he threw away his own gun and sunk into the mud. "You utter fool," he whispered, focusing only on the ground under his face., his hands slowly forming fists and becoming limp again. "Did you really think I would..." He couldn't do it. Why? "Why? Darn it... Why is it..."

As his tears blended with the rain that continued to pour down from the sky, the man continued to do naught but stare at him in shock. And then he whispered down to him, his voice barely raising above the din of the rainfall.

"You...were so big once, England... Arthur..."

"A-Arthur?"

Mint peered inside the bedroom door. She knew that he had been asleep earlier, and though she had wanted to apologize for what she had done, she had waited until he was for sure awake. After waiting for several hours outside the dark room, Mint had gone downstairs for a while, but when she had come back up to check on him again, she had seen the door ajar and a lamp on inside.

"Arthur," she repeated. "I'm sorry, I really am. I should've asked, I didn't mean to..." She stopped speaking as she noticed just what he was doing.

He had his school books open on the desk in front of him. And he was doing homework. Even though he had just snapped at her about not wanting to conform to this world.

"Arthur?" she asked, her eyes widening as she flew to his shoulder.

He turned and looked at her, and though he gave a small smile, his eyes were sad. "I've decided, Mint. Even though I know this will hurt me later, I'm tired of pursuing people I've hurt too much in the past. I can't live like that anymore. This way… It really is a fresh start, I suppose. For once…I just want to be able to move on. Maybe this will give me that kick in the behind that I'm only just now realizing that I need."

Mint was relieved. She knew that due to the Fay law she wasn't allowed to tell Arthur too much about the inner workings of the spell that he cast on himself, but it had still hurt her to see him suffer like this when she knew the deeper meaning behind all of it. But now, he had finally figured the true blessing of it out on his own.

This truly was a chance for him to start over. Not just make amends, but to honestly have another chance at life, without forever just trying to fix whatever he thought he'd messed up in history.

Mint floated up to Arthur's head and settled herself in his hair, content. Maybe now her greatest friend could find the bit of happiness that he had chased for centuries, even if only for a little while.

Oooooooh wow. Sorry for all that angst there, guys! It's hard to get a stubborn, moody character like Arthur to accept living in a new world without it seeming too convenient or anything. But I think I've got most of his brooding packed away now, so the story should start getting a lot less depressing now!

And if I ever go all OOC or anything, please please please tell me, because I'm trying to stick to actual character personalities as much as possible.

Thanks for all the favorites and story alerts, guys! And thanks especially to everyone who's reviewed! The more reviews the better! More reviews mean faster chapters!