"Now Matthew, there is something else I want to show you, or rather, someone else."

"Someone?"

"That's right. There is another child living here and he's my son, Alfred. He is to me like you are to Francis. Now where is that boy..."

The two explored the house, Arthur inadvertently giving Matthew a tour before he decided to check outside in search for the wily and elusive blonde child. He should have known that Alfred would be on the swing he made. Turning back to Matthew, he told him to remain hidden and quiet behind him to which the child merely nodded and gave a small smile with a finger pressed to his lips. Arthur turned back around with a smile, finding himself unaccustomed to the serene child after dealing with Alfred's loud and crazy antics for so long.

As he approached, he cupped a hand around his mouth and called out, "Alfred, I have a surprise for you."

The small, eight year old child perked up from hearing the accented voice. Jumping off of the swing, he ran up to the approaching man yelling excitedly, "really? What is it! A new wooden figure?"

Chuckling softly, Arthur shook his head. "No, something much better than that."

Looking around Arthur, Alfred finally noticed the white billowing fabric coming from behind him. With innocent curiosity he continued forward, slower this time with his eyes glued to what little clothing he could see, wishing Arthur would move. The Briton noticed this and with a slow step to the side, he revealed the figure standing behind him.

Akin to the drawing back of curtains, Alfred watched as the small child that stood there was revealed, clad in a soft white dress that billowed around their ankles. His blonde hair was longer than his own, curled a bit to fall into waves, and partially obscured their face due to the wind. Alfred swallowed and stepped closer, trying to see more of their face as hair continued to obstruct their eyes. It was only when a small hand lifted to move the golden strands away and tuck behind an ear was he able to see and feel the full force of those unique violet eyes upon him. Framed with thick, darker lashes, Alfred felt his cheeks burn for some unknown reason but he didn't question it.

"H-hi..." Alfred stammered out. His throat felt as though it was swollen, his mouth like sandpaper. The newcomer looked up to Arthur for a moment, and when he nodded his head in assurance, the boy turned back to Alfred.

"Hello..." Their voice was gentle, soft, and somewhat accented.

"What's your name?"

Violet eyes fell to his feet for a moment before answering. "Matthew Williams. What's your-?"

He trailed off when Alfred stepped closer until they stood toe to toe. This intimidated Matthew slightly, and he would have backed up if Alfred didn't give a reassuring smile. The wind did not cease in whipping his hair all over the place, continuously getting in Matthew's eyes despite his best efforts, so with one swift movement Alfred removed the ribbon from around his neck. He continued to give Matthew a kind smile as he collected the soft, thick hair in his hands and tied the ribbon around it into a bow. It was a bit messy, but his hair was now effectively out of his face.

"My name is Alfred Jones." He didn't back away when he told him his name and found himself staring deep into those beautiful eyes.

It was in that moment that Matthew smiled at him for the first time; his eyes lit up, and his whole face radiated from the smile. Alfred blushed once more, harder this time and had to look away. There was this tightening feeling in his body that he didn't understand and felt a little nervous about. He didn't know what to think about these new, strong feelings so he tried to think of something else.

In the meantime Matthew took his fill of the boy before him. He was the same height, give or take an inch, with glorious blonde hair and sky blue eyes. There was something about them, about him that interested Matthew, as though the boy was magnetic in some way. Looking up higher, he noticed that there was a stray hair that didn't want to follow the flow of the others and curled back adorably...just like Matthew's curl.

"So you're Arthur's colony? A colony of England?" A quiet inquiry as he tugged at his curl.

Alfred puffed out his chest slightly and placed his hands on his hips. "Yes, and I'm the best damn colony he has."

"Alfred, language!"

"Sorry, sir..." Taking in Alfred's sheepish demeanour, Matthew giggled softly which caused Alfred to pout. "And you're Arthur's new colony then too I assume?"

"Yes I am. My people reside above yours... "

Alfred nodded and looked around, feeling a little warm over the constant violet gaze, until his eyes fell upon the swing and an idea struck. "Hey, have you ever been on a swing before?" he gestured wildly to the object in question.

"No, I don't think I have..."

"Then you must!"

Alfred went to go grab his hand and before Arthur had a chance to warn him to be gentle, Alfred held his hand in a softened grip, slowly guiding him over to the swing. He helped Matthew take a seat and moved behind him, holding onto his shoulders for a moment he warned Matthew what he was going to do, and for him to hold onto the ropes on either side. Once he did so, Alfred softly pushed against his shoulders, sending Matthew in an even forward swing. Matthew was practically glowing from happiness, finding the new experience thrilling, and that this new boy around his age was nice enough to play with him.

A warm hand gently brushed Matthew's golden hair out of the way, letting it fan out against the pale sheets in a beautiful combination. Alfred let his hand travel down lower to cover the blonde's lax hand and ran a calloused thumb along the slightly roughened skin. Matthew let out a moan in his sleep, along with a faint, 'Alfred.'

A slow smile curled his lips.

Later that night, Matthew was having problems trying to sleep in his new living arrangements. Turning to the side and facing the wall, he took the blankets and pressed himself closer to it, imagining that the hard surface was Francis' back. He imagined the man's voice, humming to him one of his beloved French hymns, finding that the tears that fell from his eyes weren't as cold.

Lost in his thoughts, Matthew didn't hear the sound of footfalls making their way down the hall, into his room, and stopping by his bed. He only realized the fact he wasn't alone when the blankets were pulled aside and the bed shifted to accommodate the new weight, causing the blonde to gasp quietly. Before he had a chance to turn over, a small form nestled close to his back and a shadow fell over his face.

"Mattie? You awake?"

"...Alfred? What's wrong?"

His voice wavered slightly as he moved back a bit to allow Matthew to look over his shoulder. "I heard a scary sound, and I thought it could have been a monster so I couldn't sleep and I thought I could come in and see yo- are you okay? Why are you crying!"

Matthew's hand flew to his face but Alfred beat him to it; his hand reached out and brushed the tears aside softly. He blinked up at him for a moment, wondering if he should say anything before whispered out, "I was just thinking of Francis."

Forgetting his fear as the need to cheer Matthew up took over, Alfred looked down to him and recalled the times Arthur kissed him before bed, whispering reassurances as he held him close, saying that he's safe with him. He thought of how happy he felt, so he wanted to do the same with Matthew. Leaning over, he pressed his lips gently against his forehead, brushing his hair back with one hand.

"Everything is going to be okay, Mattie. You're safe with me, and you're going to love it here! Arthur leaves often enough, so it might be just you and me for periods of time. You'll see Francis again, Mattie, so please don't cry...I don't like it when you do." He thought he felt stinging in the corners of his eyes.

Shocked over his affectionate display, Matthew stopped crying and stared up at Alfred. "Th-thank you."

Alfred just nodded his head and lowered himself down to the pillow, leaving a slight distance between the two of them. After a few much more even breaths, Matthew turned around to face the other boy. "And don't you worry either. There's nothing out there that will hurt us- it was probably just the wind making that noise." With a small smile, Matthew held out a hand that rested against the bed. Alfred looked to this and without hesitation, laced their fingers together. "Goodnight Al."

"Goodnight, Mattie."

When Arthur found them the next morning, they were still linked by their hands.

Lethargic and slightly light headed, Matthew opened his eyes slowly, looking to the ceiling of the bright room in confusion. He shifted his legs around a bit, flexed his hand and was shocked to feel warm fingers laced between his. Matthew's heart skipped a beat and he debated with himself for a moment before looking over, scared that this was just a dream or that it was a stranger beside him, but when he did turn to see who it was, he felt all the air leave his lungs. It wasn't a stranger who sat by his side, but a long missed companion.

"Alfred..." Matthew whispered out quietly, a hand moving to cup his cheek. "Is it really you?"

With heavy lids, Alfred leaned into his warm palm as he stared into Matthew's face, lips pulled into a small smile. "Of course it's me..."

"It's been so long...I-I thought I'd never see you again." Matthew went to reach for Alfred but the blonde quickly stood from his chair and perched on the side of the bed, leaning over Matthew's body as his arms encircled him. He missed Alfred's look of confusion. "It's so good to see your face again...to hold you." Matthew took in a shuddering breath before breathing out slowly and Alfred could feel his hand run through his hair. "Oh god, I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you too, Mattie," came his quiet reply close to Matthew's ear. He didn't understand the sudden change in behaviour, but Alfred wasn't about to turn away his willing touches. Melting against Matthew's body, the American pressed his lips against the side of his neck and inhaled his personal scent that nearly ripped a moan from his throat.

Matthew shifted to try and hold him closer, to wrap his arms around him better, but the movement aggravated something and a sharp pain shot through his entire body, making him gasp from the sudden sting. Alfred just quieted him down, cooing that he had to remain still.

"Why? What's wrong with me?" Matthew looked to Alfred's face as he pulled away but found the blue eyes unable to meet his own. Looking down to his body, he was shocked to realize his chest and torso were covered in bandages. "Wh-what happened to me?" He tried to remember what happened, but all he could recall...

"Mattie, you need to lie down. You hurt your back and you need to heal. We might heal faster, but..."

Matthew wasn't listening. He remembered a big explosion, but what exploded? How did Alfred know? How... He looked to the window and noticed a bunch of men in blue coats running around, many with muskets in their hands.

Blue coats. Muskets. Explosion.

Alfred.

"No..."

"No what, Mattie?"

"It couldn't be...you couldn't possibly be..." He looked to Alfred once more but this time the kind expression was replaced with tired resolution.

"It had to be done. You'll thank me...eventually."

"Thank you?" Matthew felt tears of bitter betrayal sting his eyes as the memories started flooding back. Every word that Alfred uttered, his very presence felt like knives, cutting and leaving him raw. "To think I thought you came home...came to see me..." Pushing Alfred aside, Matthew ran to the window and looked out, quickly appalled over what he saw. The men had ravished the town, looted what they could and packed up, even burning down his parliament buildings.

A cold sweat formed over his skin and the hair on the back of his neck stood up as he clenched his teeth and fists.

"Mattie..."

"Get. Out."

Alfred frowned and moved closer as the blonde looked over his shoulder, reaching out to try and cover the darkened bandages that covered his soon to be scar, but Matthew turned entirely and hit his hand away violently at the expense of pain shooting through him.

"Don't touch me. Don't even look at me. I want you to get out now."

He had wanted to stay with Matthew nursing the wound until his skin closed up, word of Arthur arriving be damned, but the look that Alfred was receiving was enough to make him nod. He wanted Matthew by his side, but there wasn't anything more he could do right now, not with Matthew in this state. Alfred wanted him, but he didn't want to see the look of hatred in his eyes...

"Fine. But I will be back, Matthew. This isn't the end."

Alfred grabbed his coat and left, slamming the door behind him as Matthew slowly sunk to his knees, one hand reaching behind him to gingerly touch the area between his shoulder blades. Hissing from the tender skin, he thought to himself as he felt the damp bandages, 'no, it's not...'

Leaning against the darkened wood, Alfred heard Matthew's broken sobs through the door and found himself unable to hold his tears back.

This is what was best for Matthew and the Canadas…

Right?

Historical notes:

-The Treaty of Paris (1763), signed February 10, 1763 by France, Britain and Spain after 3 years of negotiations, ended the Seven Years' War. New France was surrendered by Governor Vaudreuil to a British invasion force at Montréal by the Articles of Capitulation on September 8, 1760. Prior to this the native allies of the French had reached an agreement with the British at Oswegatchie (August 25) and the Huron of Lorette had done likewise at Longueuil (September 5). The colony was under military occupation and under military rule until a definitive treaty of peace was negotiated.

By the terms of the treaty, Britain obtained Ile Royale [Cape Breton Island] and Canada, including the Great Lakes Basin and east bank of the Mississippi River, from France, and Florida from Spain. France retained fishing rights in Newfoundland and the Gulf of St Lawrence, acquired Saint Pierre and Miquelon as an unfortified fishing station and had her lucrative West Indian possessions, trading centres in India and slaving station on the Île de Gorée (in present-day Senegal) restored. In accordance with the conditional capitulation of 1760, Britain guaranteed Canadians limited freedom of worship. Provisions were made for exchange of prisoners; Canadians were given 18 months to emigrate if they wished; and government archives were preserved.

-The capture of the capital was an embarrassment for the British, exposing fatal inadequacies in their defences. Indeed, so poorly defended was the town that Chauncey returned in July, landing unopposed to burn several public buildings and boats, destroy a lumber yard, and make off with their supplies.