Year 1676

Alfred Finn Johannson, aka. Alfred F. Jones, loved his mother a great deal, he really did, but sometimes she could be so overbearing and overprotective that he couldn't help but feel smothered by her. She told him what to do, showed him how to do it, watched as he did it and corrected him if he did the slightest mistake that could have been corrected latter.

His father, on the other hand, mostly let him do what he wanted (as long as it didn't interrupt his chores) but was always there to bail him out of trouble when he needed it. He loved the trust his father showed him... it made him feel older... like an addult...

At the moment he was running an other errand for his mom. He was on his way to Elizabeth town, the closest town, near the new port of New York, to buy ingridients for something his mom wanted to make. He absentmindedly checked his pockets for the shopping list and frowned when it wasn't in his coat's right hand pocket.

But there it was! In his trousers left hand pocket. Why he put it there he'd never know as he prefers his right hand and coat pockets but, oh well... it hadn't harmed anyone... and as long as his money purse was straped to his belt he'd be okay. But if he lost it he'd never hear the end of it from his mom... so he'd leave it alone for now...

As he was lost in thought Alfred didn't notice his pony being surounded by some low life thugs (crossroads was THE easiest place attack someone) that were new to the area. Anyone old would have known better than to choose him as their victim. Last time it happened his mom had ripped the leader of the gang a new one and his dad had disapeared with the rest of the gang members. Latter the gangsters were found unconsious and bloody behind the local pub...

"G've 's yer m'ney, brat, 'nd n'boby g'ts 'urt," one of the thugs, the apperent leader, grunted.

Alfred had no problems in understanding the grunting with so many years hearing his dad speak like it, though he knew that not many people would understand it. Mentally Alfred cursed as he had left his sword home and all he had on him was the knife his mom had given him just last week as a recognation of his growing independence, not that it'd matter if he perished here because of his own stupidity.

"Now'd be a great time to appear, dad," he thought as he tried to figure a way out of the situation.

"No way! You're justa coward! Attacking kids!" argued Alfred, trying to buy time and tightening his hold on the reins.

At first, it seemed, that his come back had confused the thugs, like they weren't used to their victims talking back at them. Then they got angry and growled, flexed their muscles threatheningly and stepped closer to Alfred's pony.

Suddenly there was a gun shot sound from behind the thugs and the leader fell to the ground, twitching and gurlging. The other thugs whirled around. There, in the middle of the road, stood a man facing half away from Alfred and the thugs dressed in a red overcoat and brown knee pants. He had a large, dark brown leather hat with a big feather stiking up from it and a musket securely aimed at the other thugs. His sword hung on his left hip, easily drawn.

The smoking end of the musket was drawn to the strangers mouth and the smoke was blown away. The stranger smirked and turned to face the frozen thugs.

Olive green eyes found Alfred's baby blue ones and the stranger's smirk widened to show perfectly straight and white teeth.

"Oh Dear Lord," whispered the thug closest to Alfred. "Dis tha' crazy capt'n K'rkland! I'm leavin'!" he shouted, turned to the other direction and fled, his mates following his example.

The scene they left behind was of the man and the child staring at each other over the dieing body, both waiting for the other to make the first move.

Alfred was the first to move. He shifted slightly before grining. "It's uncle Bushy-Brows!"

Arthur sweatdropped. No one had ever actually dared to call him that... other than Fracis, that is...

"Ya know, I thought ya were just some stuffy old man that mom knew," continued Alfred, oblivious to the older nations surprise. "But that was kinda cool. Do ya often do hero stuff like that?"

Deciding that he actually liked young Alfred, Arthur holstered his musket over his shoulder and grinned. "It's neccesary from time to time."

Alfred had stars in his eyes as he looked at Arthur. "When I grow up I wanna be a hero just like you!" he declared.

Chuckling, Arthur decided not to correct Alfred. He was no hero. He was a pirate, through and through, though he wasn't sure if Alfred knew the diffrence.

"So, my young friend, what are you doing here alone?" he asked as he walked over to Alfred's pony.

"Mom sent me to the town to get something," Alfred shrugged. "She's planning some party or an other."

"I have some bussines in town also," Arthur said airly. "Would you like to travel with me?"

"Sure thing, uncle Arthur," chirped Alfred and urged the pony slowly forwards. Arthur feel in step with it.

"How has your life begun here, Alfred?"

"Well... it's okay I guess," Alfred said. "Mom's very protective and has many rules but as I grow she gives me more right's and responsibilities. For example, last year I got the chore to feed the chickens but I also began to recieve allowance. But the little free time I have I like to spend in the wild. The nature's so much like back in Sweden. Ya know, I had a pet wolf once. The cub... she was originally from Fenland. Mom brought her to me after one of her visits to her own land."

That got Arthur curious. He had wondered how they did it... "What do you mean visits?"

"As you probably know, dad's people have taken over mum's country so mom doesn't have resposibilities to her goverment. Of course she visits there and talks to her people but her time's much freer than dad's with all the work it takes," Alfred explained. "Dad's goverment takes care of everything. That leaves mom free to spend time with me. It's also the reason she lives here with me instead of back in Sweden with dad."

"That..." Arthur wasn't sure what to say as not to isult the younger nation's parents as he had never had parents, ever, sad as it may seem...

"I'm actually very lucky," continued Alfred. "From what I've heard I mean. I have free time (no matter how spares it is), I'm not beaten (what now a little twitch of an ear every now and then from mom), I have all the food I need (dad provides but he doesn't believe in sweets), I have good clothes (mom can sew anything!) and I have loving parents (at least they don't fight each other all the time and actually enjoy each other's company). All my friends lack at least one of them." He sighed sadly.

Arthur hadn't expected such honesty but then again, he was quite sure Fenland and Sweden had kept Alfred from the worlds harships.

"I hope that one day I may help my friends better by being the best nation ever," Alfred ended his presentation about his life in America.

They had reached the edge of the town. "Well, I guess this is where out paths separates, Alfred," Arthur said, thinking how he had to go to the Bank to put away his latest (abducted) treasure and how Alfred had to go to the shop. They were on different sides of the town.

"Guess so," Alfred shrugged. "See ya latter ol' man!" he shouted as he rode further into the town and waved at Arthut before he desapeared behind a corner.

A/N: And so began Alfred's dream to be a hero.

They live in modern day Elizabeth, New Jersey, U.S., just so that you know and don't go thinking Elizabethtown, New York... I didn't even know there was a town in New York (the state) by the name Elizabethtown... I love Wikipedia... :D

Sorry Ellia-chan, no Matthew just yet, but keep reading, he'll be introduced soon enough... ^.^

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