Chapter 2:
The Trap

There exists a child.

Wandering the gargantuan land mass which has yet to be fully tamed, there exists a child.

A child with radiant cerulean eyes and short wavy hair, clutching a dirty and ragged stuffed white polar bear.

He wanders in hopes of finding someone.

Someone who has long since disappeared.

The child cries out a name.

"England!" The child yells, desperate for a response, knowing he will never get one, knowing his cries will never be heard.

But one day, while the boy is ambling about, mourning and crying out the name of a nation that has already burned to the ground , the most surprising thing occurs.

England responds.

"I hope you haven't actually considered the bear's offer," Arthur said the words to Alfred as he leaned against the door frame, the light illuminating the outline of his figure. "The absurdity of another world… I pray you don't believe any of that nonsense."

Alfred lay on the bed on his back, arms spread wide, face towards the ceiling. Above the bed post hung the Canadian flag, and in the corner of the room laid a worn and frayed hockey stick. Matthew's room was quaint and empty; there was nothing extravagant that stood out, much similar to the owner. "I don't know. I want to believe. And I don't."

Both men were dressed in casual attire; neither had intended to stay the night. But it seemed that the situation had required such, because the disappearance of Matthew seemed to reveal a deeper and darker truth and neither could just simply run back to their countries. Or rather, at Alfred's insistence, it was his duty as brother, and Arthur's duty as a former caretaker to ensure Matthew's safety.

Even if it meant listening to a polar bear talk about a different dimension.

"If there is another world, how do you expect to arrive at such? The bear is a talking bear; clearly it will be through magical-" Arthur ignored the small chuckle from Alfred, "- means. Dark magic at that. We should disassociate ourselves from that bear, and go straight to Williams' government. Surely parliament may know something."

"But what if they don't?" came the response. "What if right now, Mattie is rotting away somewhere? You saw the burns. They were unnatural, they should have healed but they didn't. The scars that mark our body are proof of every battle that raged on our lands," Alfred lightly traced at the scar on his abdomen that cut through in a horizontal line, his fingers feeling the small grove through his cotton shirt. "We are the living proof of what was not recorded down in history. You and I both know that those burns can only occur through warfare… Warfare raging on the southern half of Canada."

"There is no war. You, his neighbouring country would know that much."

"Exactly! Do you see what I'm getting at? What if the polar bear is right – what if his wounds are from a war in a different world?"

"That is just only one of the farces that the bear had mentioned. Do you remember what else he said? It's impossible for Williams to maintain a stable position in our world, which is why at times we are unable to see him. He even claimed that our minds are still unable to comprehend his existence that we may momentarily forget who he is!"

"You're just making more valid points for the bear's side, Arthur."

"No, they are not valid, they are easily explainable through normal means. The boy is quiet and barely says anything. His role in history is barely known, thus the reason why other nations don't remember him."

"You did overshadow him during the World Wars. All his efforts were under your name."

"And you the way your text books put it, World War II started off with the bombing of pearl harbour and include minimal participation from the Canadians. But I digress; there is a logical explanation for everything, even his disappearance."

There was a brief interlude of silence before Alfred spoke out in a quite dejected tone. "I just want my brother back."

Arthur had to resist the urge to say, if it were by your logic, Williams isn't even your brother.But instead, he slowly closed the door shut.

Tea. He needed tea.

It was while he was sitting at home enjoying the fruits of his labour had a voice ravaged his mind.

"England!" the voice ever so familiar, had shouted."England!"

He fell to his knees, the voice strong and the emotion powerful and overwhelming, the grief soon becoming his own.

He knew this voice.

"England!" the voice had shouted once again in his mind.

Fluttering over him and buzzing frantically were several of the faeries, sharing murmured words.

"Arthur, what's wrong?" they asked. "What's wrong?"

"Bring me…" his voice was slurred and the words dropped heavily. But he knew he was not drunk. "Bring me the boy."

"Who?" they buzzed about. Annoying little things. "What boy?"

"The boy that is crying out my name! I can feel his anguish, why and how, I do not know. Regardless, he is in pain and screaming my name. Bring him to me."

The faeries had stopped their frenzy, and had all slowed down to the point where their fluttering wings became a steady heart beat.

Arthur pounded his fist into the wooden floor board. "Damn you, bring me America!" The boy's cries were still loud, and Arthur had trouble concentrating on their response.

"Who?" one brave faerie had asked. "The boy who is crying, or your America?"

Arthur spat in disgust. "They are one and the same! Bring to me the boy who is crying!"

The faeries looked at each other, exchanging worried looks.

"There are consequences." They stated in unison.

In his agitated state, Arthur scrutinized the faeries – something he normally would not dare do. "Then they are mine. They will be on my shoulders."

Hesitant glances shared among the small creatures. Then they finally spoke, together in time.

"It will be done."

The bawling from within Arthur's mind suddenly stopped, but a new cry elicited from in front of him. Wasting no time, he barrelled forward and grasped the small boy into a tight embrace.

"You are safe," he murmured.

The child tightly clutched on to Arthur's white linen shirt, which was stained in – blood? Arthur tipped the boys head upwards.

"Poppet, open your eyes." He softly whispered.

The child did, and Arthur tried to prevent the small gasp from escaping. The tears the boy cried were of blood, and he watched as the child's bright cerulean eyes slowly faded into a dull violet hue.

"Consequences." Is what a faerie had repeated, but Arthur ignored it.

"What happened love? Tell me, what made you cry?"

The child said nothing but instead flung his arms about, in one hand he held on to a small white bear.

"The bear," The faeries whispered. "There's something wrong about the bear."

They once again began flying in a frenzy, which startled the child even more. He dug his head into Arthur's shirt while at the same time hugging the bear tightly.

"Be gone." Arthur had commanded, and with a snap of his fingers, the faeries had disappeared.

"I was so scared!" The child cried. "France told me you were dead! I looked everywhere for you, Arthur! And my people – they kept talking and saying you were gone! Arthur I was so scared!"

"Hush," Arthur breathed gently into America's ear. "I'm here now,"

Alfred had pinned Arthur down to the floor. Arthur desperately clawed at the hand enveloping his throat.

"Alfred…" He managed to choke out.

Alfred smiled, to the point where Arthur could count every single tooth.

"Concentrate. I know my disguise is impenetrable, but it is not perfect." Alfred said.

"I… don't know… what… I'm looking… at" Every word uttered was a word closer to death.

The force of Alfred's hand came down harder, and Arthur found himself wheezing for a breath of air.

"You have the ability to distinguish me from him. You can see me." Alfred snarled.

And then Arthur did see him. He saw himself in Alfred.

"Who…are…you…" Arthur's vision was turning black around the edges.

"Do not take it personally," Alfred had said with a smile, "This all could have been avoided. Alas, you refused to sleep, so I had to possess someone else." He chuckled a bit to himself. "Magic is such a tedious thing, it is much easier when the person you are to possess is unable to resist."

And then it came to Arthur.

"You're… the bear…"

"No." Alfred's eyes narrowed and his grin grew even wider.

As Arthur's vision began to fade to black, he felt something enter him, devouring his mind. He felt his body become limp, and soon he had lost all motor function. Then, there was a voice in his mind that sounded unquestionably familiar. And it spoke, echoing throughout his mind.

"I am England."

"We are almost at your home." Arthur whispered, holding the small child in his arms. The child had been oddly quiet, unlike his usual rambunctious self.

"Here we are," he stated, as he placed the small child down in front of the door. But he didn't even have to touch the door knob, because the door burst open and another child flew at him.

"Arthur! You're home!" The child had yelled, and snuggled his face into Arthur's chest.

"Who-"

Then Arthur saw the cerulean eyes, the blonde hair, and the gigantic grin plastered on the child's face. In bewilderment, his gaze switched from the child who lay on top of him to the child standing at the door. They looked exactly the same, albeit the colour of the eyes.

"Alfred?" Arthur had called out, dreading what would happen next.

Both little boys turned towards him, one his face behind the white bear he carried, the other placing two elbows on Arthur's chest and holding up his head in his hands.

"Yes Arthur?" They both responded.

The faeries' words echoed throughout Arthur's mind.

Consequences.

AN:

Updates will be short and sporadic. It may be a long time before you see this story updated again.

A new meaning to the word, 'self-possession'.

Sorry if I offended anyone with the textbook thing (I thought the war started with Pearl Harbour, don't blame me, blame Medal of Honor). I have an American friend who has no idea what the Canadians did during WWII. Then again, the same person had said, "Hitler wasn't in WWII."

There will be a bit of USUK, but in an entirely different concept.

Poor Matthew, where are you?