A/N: Wow. Thanks to everyone one who read the prologue, and all those watches/alerts already! :D Here is the 'first chapter', staring a very Young Alfred. He's very cute...

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING! Not Hetalia, not the chararcters, not the countries...PLEASE ENJOY & STAY TUNED!!!

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CHAPTER 1

"Let's read this one, Arthur," the young boy cried, holding the leather-bound book in his small hands.

England smiled, pulling the book from the child's hands. "No, no, Alfred, this is big person book. You'll have to wait a few years before you can read something like this," he laughed, placing the book back in its wedge on the shelf.

Young America sighed, disappointed with the response. "But I wanna read it."

His hand frozen over the book's spine, Arthur sighed, pulling it back from the shelf and walking over to the sofa. "Alright, alright, if you're going to give me that face, we might as well give it a try."

Alfred giggled excitedly and ran over to the sofa, hopping on the vacant spot beside his father figure. How he loved reading with Arthur, and not for the stories; he liked sitting beside the Englishman, hearing his accent pronounce words all funny, and the feeling of his hand resting on the child's shoulder. He loved England and cherished every moment spent with him.

Clearing his throat, Arthur turned to the first page and opened his mouth to speak, until a loud knock on the door interrupted the serene atmosphere. "Blast it, who could that be?" He groaned, placing the book down and walking towards the front door. "I'll be right back, Alfred, just sit right there," he called back, his hand reaching for the door knob.

Alfred hopped off the sofa and peered down the hall, spotting England's not-so-welcome guest in the foyer: France.

"Bonjour!" The man's thick accent boomed down the hall. America's heart jumped and he proceeded to run back to his seat on the sofa as France greeted his disgruntled host. Waltzing down the hall, France kept an angered England wrapped tightly in his arm. Glancing over, he spotted young America, waiting on the sofa with the leather-bound book in his grip, trying to hide his recent 'adventure'. France smirked and released the fuming England from his hold. "Why, if it isn't the little Alfred," he said leisurely, grabbing the boy's hand to plant a gentle kiss upon his knuckles.

Alfred took in a deep breath, reminding himself of his manners. He was still young and held much promise as a nation; so many countries had their eyes on him, especially France, and such matters of control resulted in messy fights and quarrels. But England managed to win him over, a thought that put a smile on America's face. He bowed his head courteously to England's new guest, jerking his hand from the playboy's grip. "Good afternoon, France," Alfred said, masking his tone of displeasure.

England cleared his throat and stepped towards Alfred, pushing France aside. "Alfred, would you mind taking that book upstairs to the study? Francis and I have…important matters to discuss," he said, his cheeks oddly flushed when his sentence was matched with a chortle from France.

America found the situation awkward – England's apparent embarrassment and France's amused disposition – but he abided to England's wishes and hopped off the sofa with a smile. "Okay," he said, scurrying up the stairs and clutching the book to his chest.

Smirking devilishly, Alfred stopped half way up, trying to listen in on the conversation below.

"Important matters? Oh, Arthur, I never knew I meant so much to you," he heard France say dimly.

"Quiet, you frog, I can't stand listening to your ridiculous voice," the soft yet peeved voice of England said, making Alfred laugh to himself. "I can't even believe I still do this with you."

There was a pause before France spoke once more. "Mon ami, why so heartless? To think that such pleasures leave you so…"

And then the door slammed. Hoping to hear more, America sighed and made his way up to the study. "Better get up to the study," he chanted, running down the carpeted hall towards his destination.

Well past a half hour passed and the book sat beside America, untouched since his journey upstairs. He sighed, counting the minutes, the seconds, until England came to retrieve him from the study. "What could they be talking about," he pondered, gawking around the room for some sort of answer. His mind filling with random thoughts and ideas left him unaware of his surroundings and his heart skipped a beat when England entered the room, short of breath. "Ah, Alfred," he said, clutching his chest and heaving breaths between his words. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Francis just left."

America smiled and ran over to England, his arms wide for a hug, only to stop when he gave the man a glance over. A peculiar thing, England's appearance: his cheeks were red and glistened with a damp luster, possibly from sweat or tears; his hair was tousled and messed about, and Alfred was sure that Arthur was wearing a tie before France came to visit. "Must've been a good talk," Alfred said, hugging Arthur's leg.

England stood there, awkwardly gaping at America before kneeling down, placing his hands on Alfred's shoulders and staring him in the eyes, a tired yet serious look on his face. "Alfred, I hope you don't mind, but you'll be eating supper alone tonight."

The young boy stood there, stunned at the sudden change of plans. "Eating alone? But…"

"I'm sorry, Alfred, I'm just incredibly tired right now, I need to rest," Arthur said, interrupting the boy in mid-sentence. "Please forgive me. I'll have the cooks prepare a large breakfast for us tomorrow before sending you off."

Alfred sighed, avoiding England's drooping eyes. "It's alright," he said, barely audible, and walked out of the study and down the stairs. This was a very odd turn of events. America could hardly understand England's thinking, let alone the man's sudden disheveled appearance.

"Alfred!"

He stopped at the foot of the stairs and glanced behind, noticing the look of hurt in his father figure's face. Alfred smiled and held his chin high, proving that nothing could dampen his spirit. "I'm fine, Arthur. You just gotta promise that you'll be awake to read me to sleep tonight."

An awkward chuckle swimming past his lips, England smiled and nodded his head, making his way down the hall towards his bed chamber. "Of course, of course," he said, and waved Alfred off before disappearing into his room.

America's smile grew brighter and he skipped off towards the dining room for his solitary dinner. Even better than his visits to England's place was being able to fall asleep to the man's voice. Such a charming tone left Alfred with sweet dreams and large smile. But unfortunately, Arthur did not wake up until the next morning, an act that stung at the young nation's heart.

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Aw...to be continued...

~erbby