Someone had lived in this room before. Lived in this room that was now mine, made it their own. And a while ago. Pictures of antiquated airplanes were plastered all over the walls and the furniture was outdated.

I loved it.

But what really caught my eye was the bed. And the fact that no springs were sticking out of it.

And only after I had bounced on the bed for at least ten minutes did I notice the huge television facing the bed and the rows of books on the shelf. Was he… being nice? Was all this for me?

Just as I was about to turn on the television – I'd only ever seen military messages meant to inspire obedience and fear, and was excited to see what the rest of the world was so hooked on – a quiet knock sounded on my door.

I looked up to see Arthur walk in and lean against the door, now dressed in a green outfit that didn't make me want to pummel him into dust.

"I'm afraid that we haven't had a chance to talk… And I haven't explained much. I didn't want you to overhear much of my conversation with France because I want to tell you myself, and in a proper way." He cleared his throat and stuffed a hand in a pocket. "So, Alfred, if you'll come to supper I will explain things. I know that you are confused and frightened and probably want me to just disappear. Just… hear me out."

I stared at him. Once again he had referred to the man as France. Wasn't that a country? Yes… It was.

All of my instincts told me not to trust this Lobster. But he had not hurt me yet, and I was curious. Curious enough to step away from the television and all of its buttons and towards Arthur, waiting for him to lead me to wherever we were eating.

The dining room was beautiful – the table oak, the draperies red – like the rest of the house, but now I knew Arthur's plan to do me in. Poison. Because the food in front of me was not edible. It didn't even look vaguely safe.

I hadn't eaten since the night before, at home. I now longed for my mother's clam chowder and her homemade bread, despite how many times I had told her that it was boring. It was home. What was before me was… Burnt scones. And I thought something on one of the round lumps was moving.

I sipped water.

Arthur had no misgivings about his food, apparently, as he automatically began to eat with a sort of fervor one expected of a starving man. Nothing was said for at least five minutes. My water was quickly gone.

Finally Arthur looked up, and I was surprised to see a sort of nervousness in his eyes. "I must confess," he eventually said, "that this never goes well. You aren't going to believe me. I know that you are going to stand up, walk out the door, and probably get yourself lost. Bloody git, you've done it every time."

I played with a fork, trying not to interrupt with my confusion on what he was talking about. Or why he called me a "bloody git".

"I know that you are familiar with history from the military showings. Or at least, what the world knows of it. But what I am going to tell you is slightly different. Please, try and keep an open mind."

I looked up at him, up at his earnest green eyes, at how he was leaning forward, every line on his face yelling, I am going to tell you the truth. Please believe me. I ran over the history from the viewings on the town's TV. The loss of the war. The retaliation for disobedience. The hangings – so many hangings – of the leaders. Leaving America in the state it is in now.

"I am Arthur Kirkland. To the world, that is. Officially, I run the military and much of the politics. I am the queen's right hand man. This country would not function without me."

"This country would not exist without me, because I am it. I am the United Kingdom, the British Empire, England. A nation is the technical term for my kind. France is one. And there are others, one for every chunk of land out there."

"We are special. Immortal. We can only be killed by another of our kind, and even then it is difficult. We have to already be weakened, at the brink of destruction."

"You come from America, Alfred. And once the nation of America walked this earth. My colony. My little brother, if you will. I cared for him deeply. But then he announced that he wished for independence… And that is when it all changed."

"The American army was dead. Only he was standing, on that day. He looked like a boy of your age, a little younger perhaps. I had my musket at him, and I could taste the weakness radiating off him. He looked at me and said 'I will not be your puppet.' And America grasped the trigger of my gun and fired it."

At this I flinched, my finger stopped flicking the fork; I almost popped a bite of the scone in my mouth. This was all so… unbelievable. But the pain in Arthur… England's eyes was real.

"His brother, Canada, was so enraged that he fought against me too. And was destroyed. He died. Little, gentle Canada. I had never seen him hurt a fly, let alone fight a war."

"My government began the sweep of America that is going on till this day, where they… Force the colonies into obedience by the practice that brought you here. And that was how I learned of him. The first Alfred F. Jones."

"It quickly became clear that he had the memories of my America buried inside his mind and was the reincarnation of the original nation. And you, Alfred, are the sixth one. The sixth reincarnation of America."

I dropped my fork.

O.o.O

Author's Note: Two weeks late, I know. I'm sorry! I've been so busy… And I've actually had this done, just not edited. Well, it is now! Sorta…

Well, it's not the best chapter, but its explaining things a bit. Yay for all of you who got it right! Good job!

I hope to have the next chapter up ON TIME and for the actual plot to get going. I thank you all for your great comments and reviews! I couldn't believe that I got so many already… You guys are the best!

So… Read, review, favorite, follow, do your stuff! Love you all!