Hey! It is 8:41 AM 10 December 2011! Continuing!

Thank you to the people that read/reviewed!

The names of future chapters come from a sniping game.

NOTE: 29 December 2011 – Spoilers for the 1999 film SLEEPY HOLLOW and the 2007 film THE SUICIDE SONG. I own neither.


Chapter 2 : Liar

Arthur went outside. America hadn't been inside when he woke up this morning. Perhaps...

"England?" Arthur turned and saw Alfred on the hammock outside his house, swinging his little feet. Well, not as little as yesterday. The tiny nation was now about 9 years old, only about a meter or so in height, but average for an American his age.

"Good morning, poppet." He walked over and held the child close. America wrapped his arms around England's neck, latching onto the island nation.

"Arthur, can I sing a song to wake up the day?"

He chuckled at the young boy's speech. "Of course."

"It's in French, Canadian, really."

Arthur sighed. Of course, the Frog always did have more skill in music and he had made sure that Alfred had known that when he was still an uncertain colony of Arthur's, yet the child stayed with him.

"All right. Let's hear it."

Alfred closed his eyes, kicking his feet over the edge of the hammock. Arthur placed his feet on the ground and pushed back, seeing that Alfred probably wanted to swing as he sang.

Alors tu vois, comme tout se mêle
Et du cœur à tes lèvres, je deviens un casse-tête
Ton rire me crie de le lâcher
Avant de perdre prise et d'abandonner

Arthur was strangely comforted by what seemed to be a love song. Alfred always sang a plethora of love songs. From the little French he knew (or cared to learn for that matter), it seemed to be a person who was absolutely in love, who was almost afraid to keep the other too close in case of scaring him away... If only he had done that.

Not that he was in love with America, but... Maybe... They could have parted on better terms.

Alfred didn't pick up on Arthur's distress, but he continued to sing, seeing how it made the Briton relax a bit.

Et on se prend la main, comme des enfants
Le bonheur aux lèvres, un peu naïvement
Et on marche ensemble, d'un pas décidé
Alors que nos têtes nous crient de tout arrêter

Arthur tilted his head, his cheek on Alfred's head, nuzzling the wheat golden hair. The person was loved by their love like one would a child. How sad.

Il m'aime encore, et toi, tu t'aimes un peu plus fort
Mais il m'aime encore, et moi, je t'aime un peu plus fort
Et malgré ça, il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort
Mais il m'aime encore, et moi, je t'aime un peu plus fort

Alfred yawned a bit, cuddling against Arthur. "Arthur, I love you lots."

Arthur felt warmth fill his cheeks. He was loved. "I love you, too, Alfred."


The two came inside later, Alfred babbling about a dream that he had, a man in uniform kissing him on the head.

"Bonjour, Angleterre!" Francis greeted as they walked into the kitchen, setting down a platter of crêpes. All of the nations repeated the previous day's actions by making a bit of everything.

As they sat down to eat, Mathieu looked over at Alfred. "Are you okay, Al?"

The child looked up. "Huh?"

"You don't look so good..." Sure enough, Arthur saw, turning to his right where the child nation sat, the little American's cheeks were pink and his eyes looked... stressed. However, it didn't seem to be sickness or fatigue... It seemed to be annoyance.

"Alfred, do you need to lie down?" The Englishman felt worried now. The last time that he could remember seeing Alfred like this was...

"I don't know..." The American reached out to his former master and was reached for in return. "My head..."

"Does your head hurt?" Arthur pressed his hand against the child's forehead. It was warm.

"A little... It's really loud in here."

The Briton held the child close and did not notice how America smirked at Canada a bit darkly. He didn't notice Canada's expression either.


When America went up to take a nap - "I'm sleepy and I kinda wanna be alone for a little bit, okay?" -, the other nations sat down in the living room to watch a film. At random, the 1999 film Sleepy Hollow was chosen.

The strangeness of the American folk-tale was... disturbing. Canada had pointed it out to be one of America's favourites, but a horror film? Well, with his saviour complex, of course, but... a ghost?

"Ghosts? What ever made you think that ghosts scare him?" The Canadian looked aloof about the situation, as though it made no difference what scared his brother or not. Johnny Depp fell asleep as his character of Ichabod Crane dreamt of his childhood.

Japan looked thoughtful. "Whenever America-san and I would watch films, ghosts seemed to frighten him-"

"Yeah, what else did he say or do? I would love to know!" Canada stared at the television, watching the child Ichabod go into a torture chamber. Suddenly, his mother came out bloody from an iron maiden and-

"Do you hate Alfred that much?" France asked, trying to soothe his steaming lover.

"I..." Canada sighed, turning to the European. "Why didn't he tell me anything? We're supposed to be brothers. Even if he's this ancient spirit, he could have-"

"What could I tell you?"

All turned to see the ethereal, almost frightening form of Azrael. His black wings were wrapped around him, almost like a cloak. His figure seemed a bit more gaunt, which was strange of America's figure, though perhaps that was how his form as Azrael appeared.

"I ask, Kanata, what could I tell you?" Using the tribal name, the Notion approached his pseudo-brother. The television screen flickered a bit before going back to normal.

The North American swallowed. "You could have told me what you were..."

"Would you have believed me?"

Silence.

For no one could have believed the story.

"I would have!" piped up Veneziano, who watched the film with wide-interested eyes.

Azrael turned to the small nation. "Child, you're still innocent. You trust, much unlike myself, who, in heart, is not much older."

The Italian tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

The Notion dismissed his attention to his brother, who was offended by the action, but could not really protest, fearful of the black-winged character. The only things with black wings, Canada had been told, were bats, ravens, and demons.

"I was raised in a fairy tale," Azrael began. "I knew not of night time, outside, or movement. I was restrained at all times, for the first two years of my physical life, a total of 150 years. I was only needed for organs, not for being part of my parents small group of progeny, but for my heart-" He pointed to his own body as he recited the list of organs that had always been heard of from observations where the nurses would change him, move his arms and legs at times, and prod and poke him to see the health of his organs. "- lungs, liver, and kidneys, necessary things for the body."

Azrael paused, sighing. The Nations could feel the... resentfulness in his voice. How could a parent allow their child to be imprisoned in such a way?

Continuing... "Two years only, because my youngest older brother was wandering the halls of our home and found a room with this child with such a pathetic body inside. He had been told that his younger brother had been stillborn, leaving him to gather interest in other things, such as magic.

"That same day, the King and Queen, our family's masters, had come to see the condition I was in. They did not expect to see my brother there, but they did realise that I could not be hidden any longer."

Azrael patted the child's heard. "You were born from the water, weren't you, Venezia?"

Italy looked up. "Si. I heard many voices... hateful voices. They hated the Romans, Germans, Hungarians, French... they hated everyone... and then they prayed for a place to live, where those people they hated couldn't bother them any more... and I was born in the swamps, but it was very warm because of the Sun..." Italy wrapped his arms around himself. "... and I was loved by my people."

Azrael smiled inquisitively. "Has the Sun always been so warm? The first day I was out of the room was the first day I saw the Sun. It's always been bright and cheerful..." Azrael closed his eyes, memories filling his body with warmth.

"Arthur made sure to let me keep my innocence. Even after the rape and the surgeries – too many to count – he would bring me toys, tell me stories, take me outside..." Tears were making their way down his cheeks, yet the Nations could tell that the old one did not want comfort. The tears were his affirmation that all of those memories, every emotion, thought, touch, it was all real.

"I'm still young at heart. I still have foolish hopes, dreams..." Azrael smiled, his eyes closed in happiness. "That's why I say that you and my other self, the one napping upstairs, are the same. I've never grown up and you are still young; we are the same."

Azrael stood, looking at the Nations, his eyes stopping on England.

"You were once that way, too, Albion."

France shifted slightly in his seat. England stared at the Notion, emerald staring at sapphire, and the Briton could tell that those eyes seemed familiar, that those words could be taken as truth.

"I don't remember you at all."

Azrael smirked.

"Still as cocky as Alba, snotty as Cymru, and prideful as Eire..."

England's eyes widened and he stood up quickly.

"What-?"

The Notion was gone.


Alfred opened his eyes, whimpering a bit as he was drawn out of slumber by nothing.

He heard something downstairs.

It was England's voice.

"What-?"

England was worried... He should go fix that.


"Arfur?" Arthur looked up as small steps made their way down the stairs. At the bottom stood little Alfred... Azrael...

"Yes, Alfred?"

The child walked over and wrapped his arms around Arthur's legs. "You sounded worried and scared and..." His lip wiggled and he buried his face in the smooth fabric that covered the Briton's lower body.

Arthur held the child's shoulders as he knelt down to his level. Staring into blue orbs that were now looking watery and doleful, he couldn't believe that an ancient being, one that took care of him, his brothers, that he himself had taken care of when he was younger, was inhabiting that tiny body. It scared him.

What did Azrael know about him? What was their relationship like for Arthur not to remember?

Maybe that was why their relationship was so awful once he, America, had declared independence...

Maybe there was a reason from back then...

His eyes widened.

"England?" Alfred was kind of scared. Arthur's grip on him had gotten tighter and... "England,

"Why are you crying?"

"I don't remember."

France inquired softly, reminding the American and Briton that the others were still there in the sitting room with them, "What don't you remember, Arthur?"

"Everything..." He shook a bit and brought Alfred close to him.

"I can't remember you raising me, or much of me raising you... The time after that... I remember waking up in the '70s and all of a sudden... I remember everything until..."

"Until when, England?" Canada asked, worried and anxious.

"Canada... Don't..."

"What..."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

"A week before we came here..."

Memory loss?

It happened to countries, no doubt...

But to lose that much of your memory...

How could England handle that?

A week before they came.

"England-san, you don't remember before we came?" England looked up to Japan, tears mostly gone off his face, but still in his eyes somehow.

There was something that he had to remember from a week ago.

"England, please!"

"Leave him alone!"

What was it?

"I don't. Not the week before we came."

Alfred suddenly grabbed the former empire. "Don't!" He couldn't let him know.

"America!" England was shocked. What the-

"Don't remember that!" The child's tears flowed again. Of all things, he didn't want England to remember that. It would make him cry, sob, scream, kick...

It would make him hate America.

The talk ended shortly after.


England lay in bed that night, moonlight on his face due to the angle of the blinds on the window.

He could hear some of America's faeries.

"Toh-ta...yinaldzid..."

"Yes... Help him?"

"..."

What did America not want him to know?

Suddenly, he saw red.

"Hello, England."

And blue.

And white.

England felt so much like vomiting.

America stood there, at the foot of the bed. His America. Not the little one. The one he raised with his blood and tears.

He wore his uniform of independence.

"England... Why are you here?"

It hurt.

"Why do you think I'm here, you idiot?" Arthur whispered. "I'm here to take care of the new you-"

"Liar."

Chills went up and down his spine. He couldn't lie to this America. Not the one he cared for most, but then again...

"I don't need to lie-"

"LIAR."

Blue eyes stared into his and he wondered how he moved so quickly.

"You just want to see me. To take me back."

To have his little brother back?

"No, I-"

The apparition held his face in his hands, making Arthur shiver. He wasn't cold, but he could feel something on his skin tingle. It was not flesh that he felt.

"Liar. You left me alone. All alone." The ghost had tears going down his face and Arthur's face matched his. "Just leave."

"What?"

"Leave. I do not want you here." The tears came faster and Arthur felt more ice in his blood.

Something was-

"It watches us."

A black mass appeared behind America. Its eyes were red, figure like a cloud.

"I will give you a blessing, a Notion's Kiss, to keep you safe."

England nodded.

So red...

He felt his lips meet lips as this younger looking America kissed him. He felt himself be filled by something.

Something he wanted to keep safe.

It was his.

It was wet and warm and his body took it in deeply.

Looking at America's eyes when the blue-eyed blond pulled away, he made a resolution.

He got up soon after the sun began to rise and called for some of his fae and spirits.

They would care for America, the current one.

The countries left the next day, America hugging England many times before letting him go.

He promised to come back, after a quick job.

England would recover and keep his memories.

He would find out by the America from back then, his blue uniform so elegant, cried so much that night.


13 January 2012 – 8:06 PM

1) Avg. Height of an 9-year-old American is about 45 in. which is 1.143 meters.

2) The song is called "Comme des enfants" (Like children) by the Canadian Coeur de Pirate (Pirate Heart)

3) Iron Maiden – Used during the Inquisition, the Iron Maiden is like a large coffin (standing) with spikes lining the inside. Prolonged exposure (to my knowledge) would lead to infected wounds and exposure to syphilis, yersinia pestis (plague), and other diseases. It was used during the Inquisition, like other torture devices, to drive out confessions of infidels, witches, and other heathens to try and bring their souls to the salvation of the Catholic Church.

Scary...

4) Yes, this whole being held for years without movement would lead to severe complications, such as juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, frailty, a weakened immune system, muscle atrophy, and other such things, but then again, this is fanfiction and magic is running amok in it.

5) I just finished my psychology class and I remember we talked about the case of Genie, a girl that had been restrained to a potty-chair and pet cage her entire life. She had severe atrophy and could not speak. After being taken by social services, she was cared for and educated. Even in her twenties, she only had the English of a child.

The mind is fascinating...

6) Alba – Scotland, Cymru – Wales, Eire – Ireland. Azrael played an important role in the raising of all of the British nations, as well as Ireland. England has just learned about this, but these three play a big part

7) America knows something.

8) Toh-ta yinaldzid – Diné (Navajo) – England is scared. I do not speak Diné (though it would be so awesome) so if anyone knows how to speak it, could someone correct me please?

Toh-ta – Used by the Navajo Code breakers as the name for England. It means "between waters."

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