Winds rolled across the prairies, causing the tall blades of grass to sway to and fro in unison. The breeze was warm, and it was the only noise heard for miles. The yellowed grass bent as a rush of wind blew across the small hills, revealing hundreds of bluebonnet buds that had begun to grow. The small blue flowers would soon grow to such great heights and numbers, that the ground would resemble an ocean from the distance. The grass stood tall once more as the wind reverted to a gentle breeze, hiding the bluebonnets in their shade. The sun shone down upon the grass through clear blue skies, keeping the prairies from turning into a bright shade of green. The sun was hot, but the breeze kept the temperature of the area at a comfortable warmth.

A small, chubby, slightly tanned hand reached down to touch a budding bluebonnet, refraining from picking the flower and instead stroking it with great care. Brown eyes, filled with pureness and love, scanned the flower in admiration. Lips curled upwards, revealing a row of pearly-white teeth.

"Alejandro!" a small voice called out. "Vengan y vean!"

A young man, appearing to be in his teen years, walked up to the small figure crouched in the prairie grass. His expression was hidden underneath the large sombrero on his head, and his own brown eyes watched as the young girl continued to stare at the bluebonnet as though it were the most amazing thing in the entire world. Alejandro fiddled with his green, cotton shirt as he grew impatient with the girl.

"Samantha," her name rolled off of his tongue easily. "¡Date prisa!"

The girl turned around with a pout, "Pero Alejandro-"

"No Samantha, tenemos trabajo que hacer hoy," Alejandro said with a sigh. "Las tortillas no se dan a..."

Samantha sighed, not wanting to get back to work on making tortillas, and giving the flower one last glance with a small smile etched onto her face, she stood up and walked next to Alejandro. He looked down at her small, brown hair-covered head which only reached up to his thighs, and let out a slightly exasperated sigh.

"Samantha, ¿cuántas veces te he dicho que usar un sombrero fuera?" Alejandro scolded, pointed out that she was not wearing a hat.

The sun was especially bright that day, and he would not allow her head to burn because of it. Antonio would never forgive him...nor trust him to watch over anything or anyone ever again.

"...Lo siento," Samantha murmured sadly.

Alejandro reached up and removed the sombrero from his head, and knelt down in front of the small girl. She fiddled with her own brown, cotton dress, and stared down at her bare feet. Alejandro placed the hat on Samantha's head, and smirked as it nearly swallowed her from size.

Samantha giggled as the hat fell over her head and reached the tip of her nose, "gracias, pero creo que es demasiado grande..."

Alejandro smiled and lifted it back so her face was uncovered, and held out his hand for her to take, "Vamos a ir a casa."

Samantha took the tanned hand, and followed Alejandro back towards the large hacienda house they lived in. She giggled merrily the entire way home, completely oblivious to any world problems. As the two of them walked, the sun began to set behind them, reverting the sky to a scarlet hue. The yellowed grass appeared to be slightly brown under the red light, and the winds began to still as the day drew to an end; the calm before the storm.

Behind them, the small budding Bluebonnet began to wilt as the air grew cool.

"Wow Matthew, how long have you been in here?" Arthur nearly exclaimed as he entered the kitchen.

There were stacks upon stacks of saucer-sized pancakes on various counter tops around the kitchen. The smell was very welcoming itself, but the view of the fluffy, brown, Canadian pancakes was enough to make Arthur's stomach growl. He had not had a homemade meal in many years, and had had to admit that he would look forward to devouring Matthew's delicious-looking pancakes.

Matthew turned around at the sound of Arthur's voice, and smiled kindly, "Oh, good morning Arthur. Would you like some pancakes?"

Arthur did not think it would be possible for Matthew's voice to be any more quiet, but apparently morning drowsiness proved him wrong, because his voice was nearly inaudible.

"Why yes, that would be lovely," Arthur nodded with a small smile. "Though, do you think you may have perhaps made, just a smidgen, too much?"

Matthew shook his head with a grin, "You forget how much Alfred eats."

Arthur's eyebrows raised in realization, "Ah yes, of course."

Arthur walked over to a plate of pancakes, and glanced over to his left at the Canadian. Matthew caught his gaze, and gave the Brit a sweet smile.

"You know, you really didn't have to go through all of this trouble," Arthur said.

"I know, but I was hoping that my pancakes would cheer everyone up a bit. I hate seeing everyone so upset," Matthew said quietly, flipping a pancake. "I wish we could all just be happy together for once, even if only for a day or two."

Arthur stared down at his plate of pancakes, nodding in agreement, "You learn quickly, Matthew."

"Um...p-pardon?" Matthew asked, stuttering in confusion.

Arthur smiled sadly at Matthew, "It takes most countries quite a while to figure out just how different we are from humans. Some still haven't, actually."

Arthur walked over to the table, and Matthew followed him after turning off the stove. Arthur grabbed a bottle of maple syrup, and began to pour it over his pancakes. He watched as it gracefully oozed over the cake before the fluffy bread soaked it all up.

"You see, it is believed that we, the country representatives, are the most powerful and well-off beings in the entire world. That automatically leads most to think that we can have whatever we want, whenever we want it, because we are better than the humans," Arthur said, taking a small bite of pancake.

"Well...I don't think we are better than the humans," Matthew said with a small frown.

"Good, you shouldn't," Arthur said. "But most do believe that. Even some of the countries believe that they are better than humans, and most have had the idea at least once in their life. I did too, but it really didn't take me long to discover the truth."

"Excuse my rudeness, but where exactly are you going with this, Arthur?" Matthew asked.

Arthur chewed his food and swallowed before he replied, "There are many things that separate us from humans. Power, near-immortality, age, our rankings...and so much more. However, the one thing that separates us from humans, the very exact thing that not one country has ever proved wrong, is the fact that we, as countries, can never be truly happy."

Matthew stared at Arthur in mid-chew, not knowing how to reply to his statement.

"Every country has its ups and downs. One moment you are the best in the world, or at least think you are, and then the next thing you know you are having to build cuckoo clocks for France seven days a week," Arthur explained, sighing. "But more importantly, as countries we can never have love. That is actually something that Francis is very aware of, something that he is not completely oblivious to. It is also one of the only things we can ever agree on..."

"But Papa is always going around kissing women, and talking about true love," Matthew said.

"And when has he ever actually had it?" Arthur asked, leaning forward. "I know this is all very depressing, but it is the truth. When have you ever seen Francis actually in love?"

Matthew opened his mouth, but then closed it, "I-I don't..."

"If I remember correctly, there was only ever one woman he ever loved," Arthur said softly. "And that was Joan of Ark, which is fairly self-explanatory."

"Did...did she love him back?" Matthew asked with wide eyes. "I know she died young, but did she at least love him back?"

Arthur's eyebrows pressed together, "I honestly don't know, that is something you would have to ask him."

Matthew leaned back, shaking slightly, "Poor Papa..."

Arthur sighed, "I'm sorry, Matthew. I did not mean to spoil your morning, especially after you went through the trouble of making everyone breakfast."

Matthew smiled softly, "It's alright. I'm just glad you remember who I am."

Arthur let out a chuckle, "I don't forget you, I just mistake you for other people. You really do look a lot like Alfred, especially at the back of your head."

Matthew scratched his neck absentmindedly, "I know...that's why I forgive you every time you do."

The one early-riser in the entire household was Samantha Kirkland, and yet she was the last one to wake up. By the time she did, it was nearly lunchtime, and Alfred had disappeared yet again.

"It's kind of funny, usually you are the one to wake me up in the morning whenever you visit," Matthew said as Samantha stood sluggishly in the doorway.

She shrugged nonchalantly, "Are those pancakes for me?"

Matthew nodded with a smile, "Help yourself, everyone else has already eaten."

"Alfred hasn't," Samantha pointed out with a yawn.

"How can you tell? Were you secretly awake or something?" Matthew asked.

Samantha yawned yet again, "No. I know, because there are still pancakes left for me."

Arthur, Francis, and Matthew each laughed at her comment. Samantha rubbed her eyes tiredly, and Arthur stared at her in confusion.

"How are you still tired?" Arthur asked. "I know you went through a lot yesterday, but you still slept for quite some time."

Samantha grabbed some pancakes and sat down next to Arthur, "That was once I fell back to sleep."

"What do you mean?" Arthur asked confused.

Samantha poured maple syrup on her pancakes, and smirked, "You, my dear father..."

Samantha took a bite of her pancake, and sighed as the delicious flavor filled her mouth. She swallowed and looked up at her father with a teasing glare.

"...Snore," she finished, pointing an accusing finger at him.

Arthur was taken aback by her comment, and began to stutter. Francis let out a loud fit of laughter, having to hold the table for support. Matthew chuckled quietly, trying not to be rude.

"I-I do not snore!" Arthur retorted, folding his arms in annoyance.

"Yeah ya do," Samantha said. "Incredibly loud, actually. It woke me up, and it took me about three hours to finally fall back'ta sleep."

Francis continued to roar with laughter, earning a sharp glare from the Brit.

"Shut it frog!" Arthur exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists.

Samantha nudged her father under the table with her foot. Arthur looked back towards his daughter, only to find her grinning at him. She chuckled under her breath and looked back at her pancakes. Arthur groaned in annoyance, but remained silent.

It seemed as though nothing bad had happened to her the previous day, because her demeanor lacked anger and stress. She appeared tired, but her mood was the same, cheeky mood that it had always been. Arthur should have been grateful that she was not upset, but it simply bothered him.

"So, where iz Alfred?" Francis asked curiously. "Haz anyone even seen 'im?"

"I did," Matthew said softly. "He was leaving right when I woke up. He said he had to go check something, and then just disappeared."

"He probably used the tunnels," Arthur muttered. "If he did, then he must have done the same thing last night."

"But, uzing tunnels iz very tiring, oui?" Francis said, frowning. "He couldn't 'ave possibly done it two days in a row like zat."

Arthur nodded, "Exactly. He's up to something."

Samantha frowned, chewing her food slowly. Francis turned to look at her, and when she caught his eye he raised an eyebrow.

"What French-Fry?" Samantha asked. "Do I got somethin' on my face, or am I just amazingly beautiful?"

"Ze latter, but zat is not important," Francis said with a shrug."I just thought zat you might know what Alfred iz doing, zince you know him better zan us."

"I thought I did..." Samantha said softly, and then a scowl took over her features. "My guess is as good as yers."

Arthur pushed Samantha's bangs out of her face, "So, more importantly...how are you feeling?"

Samantha let out a loud sigh, "Honestly? I feel...sad. Kinda depressed, ya know? I mean, the weather's better, and things are warmin' up, but I still can't help but feel like little bits of me have been torn out."

"Because of all the deaths?" Arthur asked.

"No, it's because of all the funerals," Samantha said. "For me, when someone dies it hurts for a moment and then the pain goes away. But, there is always the after-effect, or for lack of better words, funerals. Plus, it doesn't help that I try to go to my people's funerals whenever I can...and I doubt it's physically possible for me to do that now. Too many deaths...too many funerals...too much crying..."

Arthur rubbed her back, "We understand, believe me."

Francis nodded, "Oui."

Samantha blew a stray hair from her face, "I also feel kinda...edgy."

"Edgy?" Matthew asked, slowly going wide-eyed.

"Yeah," Samantha muttered. "Exactly my point."

"Why, what's going on?" Arthur asked.

"The last time I remember Samantha feeling 'edgy', Johnny Cash died," Matthew said simply.

Francis raised an eyebrow, "Zo it iz like an omen?"

Samantha shrugged, "I dunno, I just feel-"

Samantha cut off, tensing up.

"What is it?" Arthur asked.

"Someone...is..." Samantha shot up from her chair, a icy glare forming on her face. "In my Alamo again!"

She ran out of the room, and returned with an armful of her clothes from the day before. She began throwing them on hastily, not caring if anyone was watching.

"Samantha, slow down!" Arthur exclaimed. "What is the matter? What is this Alamo?"

Samantha froze, and turned to her father with a look of disbelief. The expression she held was as if Arthur had smacked her in the face.

"What?" Arthur demanded.

Samantha eyes narrowed, "I can't believe you don't at least know that much."

Samantha threw her arms forward, and a large purple orb appeared in front of her. The orb swirled mystically, as though one were looking through the top of a tornado. It was cloudy, nearly ominous in appearance, and yet no danger came forth from it. The orb sat in midair, waiting for the Texan to enter towards her destination.

Samantha jumped inside hardly any hesitation, and disappeared not a split second later without a trace.

"Samantha!" Arthur cried out in frustration. "Where did she go?"

"She went to the Alamo," Matthew said, with a worried expression on his face. "It was a fort during one of her many battles with Mexico, and now it's a famous landmark."

Arthur stared at Matthew curiously, "And how exactly do you know this?"

"Like I said, it's a landmark. Everyone knows about it, kind of like the Grand Canyon, or Big Ben," Matthew replied. "Plus, when you hang out with Samantha, you have to remember what to, and what not to talk about."

"And I suppoze the Alamo iz somezing that she bragz about a lot?" Francis asked. "I mean, if it iz a landmark-"

"Actually, the Alamo is something that you should never bring up," Matthew said fearfully, as though Samantha were listening. "I know that she lost a battle at the Alamo, but I don't really know what happened to be honest. I'm not sure I want to either, considering how she tends to act when it's brought up..."

"How does she act?" Arthur asked curiously.

Matthew pursed his lip in through, "Angry. She always gets really angry."

"She's gets angry a lot," Arthur muttered. "I swear, somehow she must have ended up with Alistair's genetics..."

"Who's?" Matthew asked quietly, as Arthur began muttering to himself.

Francis leaned in and whispered, "Scotland."

Matthew nodded in realization, "Oh..."

Arthur threw his hands up in the air, "Well now what? We can't go anywhere, or do anything! You can only use the tunnel for your own land! It's not like I can just zap myself in my daughter's country!"

Francis' eyes widened, and his lips curled into a smile, "Or can you?"

Arthur stared blankly at the Frenchman, "What are you getting at, frog?"

Francis smiled, "You 'ave magic, oui? Why don't you uze it?"

Arthur sighed, "I didn't bring my wand..."

Matthew snickered, and Francis rolled his eyes. Arthur folded his arms, and thought deeply. He wanted to make sure his daughter was alright, and did not do anything reckless. Besides, he really wanted to know what this Alamo was, and why it was so important.

"Of course, there is always Eanchainn Draíocht," Arthur spoke, mostly to himself, as he paced the room. "And Dubh Draíocht... But I'd rather not use that..."

"Quoi?" Francis asked.

Arthur glanced up at Francis through narrowed eyes, "If I wanted you to know, I would have spoken English, now wouldn't I?"

Francis huffed, and folded his arms.

Arthur sighed, "Well...I could always try to use a tracing spell, but I haven't tried using mind sorcery in quite a long time... And to add onto that, I could never pull it off no matter how many times I tried. I was always much better with Black Magic."

"Oh oui," Francis said sarcastically. "You can tell it affected uz all."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, "The majority of the time I accomplished what I needed to. I am very subtle with my magic."

Arthur stood, looking towards the ground, thumb pressing against his bottom lip, and thought fixedly to himself. There was a legitimate reason he often used his star-pointed wand, no matter how silly or odd it seemed to others. To transfer one's magical abilities through a firm, touchable object, such as a wand, helped ease the burden on oneself while practicing sorcery, witchcraft, or even black magic. It simply made it easier to cast spells, and practice magic. To perform a magical spell without a wand would prove extremely difficult, if not impossible. The person doing so would have to be extremely powerful in the art of spell-casting, and Arthur was honestly not sure if he was up to the task.

"Many centuries ago, I could have cast the spell without a second thought," he said softly, reminiscing. "But, I'm not quite as young as I used to be, nor as powerful..."

"Try, mon ami," Francis said simply. "Just try."

"It's not that simple! One slip up, and I could accidentally conjure a Russia clone or something!" Arthur exclaimed. "It's happened before, and believe me...it was bloody scary."

"Well, what do we do then?" Matthew asked. "If you can't do it, then how are we supposed to get Sam in time?"

Arthur frowned, "It's impossible to reach Texas in such a time limit, even if we were already on board the fastest jet in the universe."

"But we 'ave to be zere to make sure nozing bad happenz to Samantha," Francis said, folding his arms in thought. "Besidez, I doubt she 'az enough strength to create anozer tunnel..."

"And apparently you can't transport us there," Matthew said softly, motioning towards Arthur.

Arthur frowned, "Look, if I honestly believed I even had the slightest chance of being able to do it, I would. Alright? But I really, and honestly can't! There are few who could, and-"

Arthur's eyes widened as he sucked in a large breath of air, snapping his fingers in realization. Francis and Matthew turned to him curiously, wondering what was so shocking or important. Arthur let out a relieved laugh, and placed a hand on his hip proudly.

"I've got it," Arthur said with a smirk. "I may not be able to do it, but I know someone who can."

Matthew smiled widely, and Francis sighed in relief, "Who?"

Arthur's smirk faded slightly.

The Brit let out a small groan and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I can't believe I have to do this."

"What iz it, Angleterre?" Francis questioned.

Arthur sighed, "Nevermind, it's for Samantha. Here, hold my hands."

Arthur held out his hands for the two men to grab, and soon a large purple orb appeared in front of them. Arthur jumped inside, taking the two others with him. They were quickly transported to their destination; Coldstream Northumberland England, otherwise known as the closest to where Arthur wished to be.

None of the three men seemed to care that they were still in their pajamas.

As each of them touched the ground, the orb disappeared behind them. The three men took in their surroundings; trees, green grass, a few houses, beautiful scenery, and cloudy weather as per usual. Arthur sighed, obviously glad to be home, and he spun on his heel to face the two men behind him.

"Alright, we are in England," Arthur said simply. "However, we are on the very border of England. The reason for this is, well...I can't transport anywhere else other than England."

"I waz under ze impression zat you could transport anywhere in ze United Kingdom?" Francis said in confusion.

"Yes, well you were wrong as usual," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "Now, I'm warning you...the moment I step foot onto land that is not my own, he's going to show up demanding answers. Now I want you two to behave, especially you, frog."

"Wait, who's coming?" Matthew asked softly.

Arthur sighed, "You'll see."

The three of them walked through the small town of Coldstream, saying hello to a few passersby. Francis and Matthew began to zone out, enjoying the fresh air, when Arthur stopped them immediately in their tracks.

"Stop," Arthur said. "We're here."

Francis looked at Arthur, "And where exactly are we? All I zee iz grass."

"And flowers," Matthew added.

Arthur bit his lip, "Well...it's now or never. We need to get to Samantha as quickly as possible, so..."

Arthur slowly took a rather large step forward, as though there were a barrier keeping him from simply walking. Arthur shut his eyes quickly, dreading the oncoming storm, but frowned and opened his eyes when he saw that nothing had happened.

"Wow, mon cher," Francis commented sarcastically.

"Shut up frog!" Arthur growled at Francis. "Just shut up! I'm not crazy!"

Francis placed a hand on his hip, and Matthew cowered away quietly, "Oh, oui. It must 'ave been 'ard to take zat step forward."

Arthur glared at Francis, "You just wait, he'll be here!"

"Who?" Matthew asked.

"My brother-"

"OI! WHA' 'AVE I TOLD YE ABAET COMIN' ON MA LAND?"

A head of scarlet hair appeared not a yard behind Arthur, with a scowl that could kill. The man's eyes were deep blue like the sky, his skin was pale, his arms and legs were hairy, and his hair was wild. He wore a dark blue kilt, and yet it only seemed to enhance the masculinity that radiated off of him. Matthew was reminded of Samantha when he saw the man; crazily dressed, and yet still as terrifying as ever.

Arthur froze, turned his head slowly, and then turned back and began to quickly walk back to Coldstream, "You know what? I think this was a horrible idea, we should head back."

A large, calloused hand grabbed the Brit's collar, and yanked him back, "Oh, ye ain't gooin' nowhere, ye li'l prick!"

Francis nodded in realization, "Ah, Scotland. Never mind, I zee what you are scared of now."

"I'm not scared! You're the one who's always running away, so just shut up!" Arthur growled, trying to pull away from his brother. "Alistair! Let me go!"

Francis sighed dreamily, eying the man's legs, "Oh, mon dieu, he even makes kilts look masculine."

Alistair and Arthur both turned to the Frenchman with disbelieving gazes, and Alistair rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Alistair let go of me!" Arthur demanded, whacking his brother's hands.

"Nae!" Alistair growled. "Ye had tae interrupt ma dance festival, so yaer goin' ta tell me wha' yer doin' here!"

"Oh, was that t-today?" Arthur asked meekly, fingering his collar. "I was not aware-"

"TELL ME, ARTHUR!" Alistair yelled, angrily.

"SAMANTHA!" Arthur yelled back. "I'M HERE BECAUSE OF SAMANTHA!"

Alistair stared at Arthur for a moment, before loosening his grip, "Well why did ya nae say so?"

Arthur rubbed his temples, and Francis snickered.

If there was one thing that he and Alistair could agree on, it was that they wished for Samantha to be safe.

"Wha's wrong with ma niece?" Alistair asked, his scowl changing to a look of worry.

"Well, I'm not sure," Arthur said. "But first I need your...assistance...in performing a transportation spell. I can't do one, and we need to get to the Alamo as soon as possible."

Alistair raised an eyebrow, "Yer askin' faer me help, Artie? I'm so flattered."

"Just stop, Alistair," Arthur glared at his brother. "This is serious! I'm honestly, and truly worried about my daughter!"

Alistair nodded with a sigh, "Alrigh', come with me. I need tae fetch ma wand.""

He snapped his fingers, and a glow of blue light surrounded the men. When the light disappeared the three men took in their surroundings. It was dark, dreary, cool, and a slightly decrepit aroma hung in the air. The floor and walls were all made of aged stone, some crumbling from old age. Moss grew in a few of the corners in the room, and cobwebs littered the area.

"Good gracious, Alistair! How could you let it get so filthy in here!" Arthur inquired, rubbing his nose as dust fell from the ceiling.

"Are ye here tae chastise me? If so, then ye can jest leave," Alistair said with narrowed eyes.

"Where are w-we?" Matthew asked.

Alistair turned to the Canadian, and tilted his head, "Who are ye?"

Matthew began to stutter, not sure if he should be fearful of the man, "I-I'm Canada...b-but you can call me M-Matthew..."

"Oh aye! I didnae see ya there for a wee moment!" Alistair laughed loudly, and clapped Matthew on the back. "And tae answer your question, we are in ma dungeon. Well, one of em anyway..."

Arthur sneezed, "And apparently one that has not been well kept."

Alistair raised his fist to bring down upon Arthur's head, when a soft, musical hum was heard. It was a very soothing sound, and yet somewhat mysterious and enchanting. The hum belonged to the voice of either a man, or a very manly woman. Alistair lowered his fist, and rolled his eyes.

"Cormac, quit yer lolly-gaggin'," Alistair commented, in a slightly amused voice. "I'm nae fallin' fer that trick again, ye li'l leprechaun."

There was a giggle, and a bright green light surrounded the room. A man with a head of bright orange hair appeared right beside Alistair, causing Francis and Matthew to jump. He wore a forest green dress suit and pants, and a white shirt underneath. He also sported a donegal cap on his head, had freckles on his face, and wore a large, toothy smile. He tipped his hat politely, bowed slightly, and gave out a merry chuckle once again.

"Howya!"

"Wha' are ye doin' here?" Alistair questioned, folding his arms. "Ye've gotta quit poppin' up everywhere!"

"Oh! Are we havin' a meetin'? Why didja nae tell me, ya eejit!" Cormac demanded playfully, poking Alistair in the arm. "If I'd known, I would have dressed professionally!"

"Please don't," Arthur muttered. "I hate when you dress like a leprechaun. You always sparkle..."

"Aye," Cormac winked. "Although, may I ask, Artie...what on this good green earth's name is a Lucky Charm? Because that numpty of an American keeps askin' me if I want some everytime I see 'im."

Arthur smacked his forehead, "Forget it, let's just move on, shall we?"

"Aye," Alistair said, turning to Cormac. "I have'tae perform a transportin' spell to Sam."

"Our Sam? Ye mean wee little Samantha?" Cormac asked curiously. "Why? Did she nae invite me over? Too good for ol' uncle Cormac, I see."

Alistair smacked Cormac in the head, "Shut up, ya moron. If ye must know, there's somethin' wrong with her, and Artie needs a way to get to her as soon as possible. Now shu' up so I can concentrate."

Cormac's smile faded, "Somethin's wrong with Samantha?"

Arthur shrugged, "I have no idea. The last thing she did was transport herself to her country, saying something was in her Alamo, whatever in the bloody hell that is."

Cormac tilted his head, "Well, I could ge' us all there in a split second."

"NAE. I was goin' tae do it!" Alistair complained.

"Aye, but I can do it faster," Cormac winked at Alistair. "I've more practice."

"Fine," Alistair muttered. "But don't forget Matthew over thaer, he's a shy one...would'nae want ye tae forget 'im."

Cormac rolled his eyes, "Does it look like a came up the lagan in a bubble? I can see him."

Cormac snapped his fingers, and a rush of green smoke surrounded the men. They were transported with a soft 'pop!', before roughly falling into dirt, face-first. Cormac brushed his clothes off, being the only one who had not fallen onto the groud. He chuckled merrily, smirking at his brothers.

"Sorry, I havenae transported so many people in quite a long time."

Alistair stood up, straightening his kilt, "Obviously, ye green git."

"No need for language, dear brether," Cormac giggled.

"Yer creepy, ye kun?" Alistair said nonchalantly, as Cormac leaned forward with a wide grin.

"Ay, so ye've said," Cormac said. "Or ye could jest be borin'."

Arthur stood up, shaking dirt out of his hair, and glanced at his surroundings. There were paved roads a few feet away from where he stood, and a few trees surrounded them. There were some odd looking bushes, and cactus everywhere, along with a few patches of yellow grass. However, everything on the ground was lightly covered in a blanket of snow, seemingly out of place compared to the surroudings.

"Where exactly are we?" Francis asked.

"San Antonio," Cormac said thoughtfully. "I think."

"You think?" Arthur asked is disbelief. "So you aren't sure?"

"Not really, no," Cormac said. "But I am certain we are somewhere in Texas. ...I think."

Arthur sighed, and began walking towards the road, "Well there is only one way to find out."

"Ay, let's look for a sign or somethin'," Alistair said, glancing around the area. "I'm sure we arenae tha' far from-"

Alistair's next words were brought to an abrupt halt as the ground shook violently beneath everyone's feet, creating a sound similar to that of thunder. Pigeons fled from the surrounding trees, and a loud gunshot rang through the air. Arthur turned towards his brothers frantically, recognizing the sound immediately.

"That was Samantha's gun," Arthur breathed. "She must be around here somewhere!"

"I heard it from tha' way," Alistair said pointing towards the paved road.

Arthur spent no more time fooling around, and sprinted through the trees. His thoughts were directed only towards his daughter's wellbeing, and he refused to let something happen to her. The current state of things as they were, were bad enough.

Francis, Matthew, and Arthur's brothers followed after him without second thoughts.

Arthur continued to run, never faltering in the slightest, until he reached a clearing. The paved road he had been following connected with other roads, and there were buildings everywhere he turned. Everything was covered in a thin blanket of snow, and there were no humans present. All of the surrounding shops and resteraunts were closed, most likely due to the odd weather.

"The Alamo is here somewhere," Matthew said in between breaths as he caught up with Arthur. "I've seen pictures..."

"Yes, but where?" Arthur muttered, furiously turning his head every which way.

Another gunshot rang through the air, and there was a loud, frantic cry that followed. The cry was most definately male, and he judging by the sound he had been wounded. There were muffled voices and yells, along with a loud bang.

Arthur took in a deep breath, and eyed his surroundings warily. His hands clenched and unclenched, and he instinctively brought his hand to his left hip as though drawing a sword. Arthur waited patiently, knowing exactly what to do.

"Artie, what are ye doin?" Cormac asked curiously.

"Shush," Arthur hissed.

The group of men glanced around themselves, waiting for another bang or yell to take place. Francis bent down and carefully picked up a stray stick, ready for any sudden attacks. Matthew quietly reached into his sweatshirt pocket, and drew out a pistol, hoping that he did not have to use it. Cormac rubbed his hands together, and Alistair drew out a dagger from his sock. The only reason any of the men did so was simple; Arthur knew what he was doing. He had previously represented one of the greatest empires the world had ever known, after all.

Arthur stared forward, waiting patiently for the sign. To find whatever one was looking for, no matter what it was, even the subtlest signs could make all of the difference.

Then it came, in the form of a small rumble and a flock of terrified pigeons in a tree ahead.

"They are that way," Arthur pointed, taking no time in running towards the tree.

Arthur sprinted at full speed, not caring that his throat began to constrict slightly from fatigue. His heart hammered against his chest roughly, and his feet were freezing. If only he had remembered to wear something more than socks...

He did not care. He did not care a single bit.

His daughter needed him, after all, and that was all he knew. He had never been there for her in the past, and the guilt of their history (or lack of) overwhelmed him.

Arthur forgot to look where he was going, and nearly had his head blown off by a gunshot. His heart skipped a beat, and he quickly turned to see whoever was responsible. His daughter lowered her hand, and gave him a look of fury and disbelief. She said nothing to him, and instead turned away with an angry growl.

Samantha was standing on the opposite side of a rather large, yellowed building, six-shooter in hand, with a look of pure and undeniable rage on her face. Her hair was still down and blowing astray, only adding to her look of insanity. Her skin was abnormally pale from the cold air, which caused the illusion that her eyes seemed to have a darker hue than normal.

Alfred was quickly spotted on the left side of Samantha, quite a few feet away from her. He was holding something in his hand rather tightly, and his face held a mixture between anger and fear. He was wearing his normal attire, which led Arthur to believe that he had been out and about for quite some time. His blue eyes held a look of frustration, and he was staring directly at Samantha as though waiting for something. He caught Arthur's gaze for a moment, causing Arthur to stiffen. The gaze was held for such a brief moment, but Arthur knew that look anywhere. It was the same look that Alfred had given Arthur during the Revolutionary War, and a look that Arthur had hoped to never see again. His face was firm, his jaw set, but his eyes spoke in such great amounts from inner turmoil. It was the look that Alfred always held whenever he was about to do something that he truly did not want to do.

For a moment, Arthur could not figure out why either of them were standing outside of a building. That is, until he noticed a two men standing outside of the building's doors. They looked to be brothers, but Arthur could not be sure. They both had very tanned skin, and brown hair. The man on the left had short, messy, brown hair, dark brown eyes, and wore a dark green, longsleeved shirt, with a pair of jeans, and tennis shoes. Arthur recognized him as Mexico's representative almost immediately, due to the nearly identical appearance he and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo shared. However, Arthur had absolutely no idea who the other man was. His hair was a tad longer than Mexico's, his eyes were a light brown, and he wore a dark blue T-shirt, a jean jacket, jeans, and a pair of what appeared to be cowboy boots. He looked an awful lot like Mexico, and yet completely different. He appeared to be slightly more adventerous, and a little younger.

He did not look happy.

"Samantha," the young man spoke softly. "Please understand-"

"I understand perfectly," Samantha said in monotone, holding her gun like a lifeline.

The man looked guilty, and Arthur wanted to know why.

"Samantha-"

"AND YOU!" Samantha growled, pointed her gun at Mexico. "I don't EVER want to see you again! My trust in you has completely disappeared! So GET OUT!"

"Sam-"

"GO BEFORE I SHOOT YOU!"

Mexico's jaw was set, and his hands curled into fists. The younger man turned to Mexico with an angry expression.

"This is your fault," he hissed.

Mexico turned to the young man with an enraged expression, "I didn't make you come!"

The man bit his lip, and turned to Samantha once more. She appeared to be on the verge of either killing someone, or bursting into tears. The man began to walk towards her slowly, as though approaching a wild animal.

"Samantha, por favor," the man spoke softly. "We have nothing."

"And you think I do?" Samantha hissed, not lowering her weapon. "Do you know what it's like to have to pretty much completely reconstruct the significance of the dollar bill?"

The man sighed, "Sam, even so you have more money than we do. My people are having to live out on the streets because they can't afford their houses!"

"That doesn't give you the right to try and steal from me!" Samantha growled angrily. "I would never have done that to you! You have absolutely no right to be here, on my land, and I am going to ask you one more time to get the hell out."

The man stared at her with a hurt expression, before lowering his head, "Lo siento, mi amada."

The man turned away and waved his hand, causing a tunnel to appear before him. He quickly jumped in, leaving Mexico to fend for himself.

Mexico fingered his collar, "Eh heh..."

Samantha lowered her gun, and stomped over to him; her expression murderous. Mexico quickly tried to make a run for it, but Samantha grabbed him by the front of his shirt. Somehow Samantha managed to hid her gun in her pants without a holder, and then she drew her arm back into a punching position.

"Sam don't!" Alfred cried out, running over and grabbed her arm before she could hit the Mexican. "Don't start a war!"

"Shut up Alfred!" Samantha cried out, struggling in Alfred's grip. "Let me at 'im!"

Alfred pushed Samantha away, causing her to stagger a bit before regaining her balance. She pursed her lip in anger, and was about to hit Alfred when she saw the sight before her.

Alfred grabbed Mexico by his shirt collar, and leaned forward until they came eye to eye, "Alejandro Rodriguez..."

"S-si?" Mexico stuttered a bit, swallowing.

"You get the hell out of here, and don't you ever come back without permission. I've had enough of you lately, and this is the last straw," Alfred said in a low voice. "And if you ever try to steal from Samantha again, I swear I will start another war with you, and you will lose."

Alfred let go of Mexico, and Mexico brushed off his shirt. Mexico formed another tunnel in front of him, and turned to spare Samantha a small glance.

"Adios, Samantha," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

With that being said, he jumped in the tunnel and disappeared without a trace.

Arthur looked at Samantha, and saw her expression form into one of sadness. She wrapped her arms around herself, and began to walk past Alfred towards the building behind him. She refused to acknowledge the fact that he had just saved her from having to partake in another war. Alfred stopped her, and looking at the snow beneath his feat, he outstretched his hand.

"They dropped this yesterday," he said slowly. "I believe it belongs to you."

Alfred dropped a small key into Samantha's hand, which she gratefully took. She looked up at him with an odd expression, and gave him a polite smile, more out of habit than actual gratefulness.

"Thanks," she said lowly, before walking into the building.

Alfred sighed, and caught Arthur's gaze again. Arthur's closed his mouth after realizing that it had been hanging open, and he frowned.

"What the hell just happened?" Arthur demanded.

"Ahm so bloody confused," Alistair muttered, scratching the back of his head.

Arthur stormed up to Alfred, "Where the hell have you been, what just happened, and what in heavens name is an Alamo! I need answers! Now!"

Alfred chuckled without humor, "Well, I've been here, waiting for Mexico to show back up. He was trying to steal money from Samantha, really valuable money, which is located here. And the Alamo..."

Alfred turned and pointed at the building, "Is this."

Arthur stared blankly at the building, "This is the Alamo?"

Alfred rubbed his neck, "Yup."

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow, leaning on one leg to glance at the building. His nose crinkled up, and he turned back to Alfred with a small frown.

"I'm honestly not very impressed," Arthur muttered. "But don't tell Samantha I said that."

Alfred smiled, "That's because you don't know the story."

"Obviously not," Arthur huffed.

"Ask Google," Alfred shrugged. "He should be able to answer any questions on the Alamo you have."

Arthur folded his arms, "You know I don't trust Google."

Alfred pursed his lip and began to walk away, "Suit yourself, but..."

He turned around to spare Arthur a small glance, "Time your questioning well, if you're going to ask Sam."

Arthur turned around with a huff, "Why don't you just tell me?"

Alfred looked away, "I...well...I wasn't exactly here when...well, the bad stuff happened. I was here for part of the battles, but I left to get help."

"Alfred, please, just tell me," Arthur said. "Just, the important bits!"

"All of it was important," Alfred said, turning around. "Sam fought worse battles than the ones at the Alamo, but the Alamo was the one that had the most effect on her, and there are a lot of reasons why. It's stuff that isn't in textbooks, or Google, it's stuff that she would never share with anyone."

Alfred walked up to Arthur, and shoved his forefinger onto Arthur's chest, "If you really want to know the entire story, ask your daughter."

Alfred turned around and walked away, greeting Matthew and Francis softly.

Arthur stared at Alfred with a deep frown, quarreling with himself inside. Matthew had told him to never bring anything about the Alamo up with Samantha, and yet there Alfred was telling him that she was the only truly reliable source besides Google (which Arthur did not trust with a ten-foot pole). Arthur wanted to understand Samantha's pain, but at the same he was, dare he say it, afraid to ask her. She was more like him than he thought; defensive about her past.

"Dad, why don't you have shoes on?"

Arthur turned around to see somewhat concerned Samantha, giving her a smile, "Oh, I seem to have misplaced them."

Samantha sighed and eyed her father, "More importantly, how did you get here so fast?"

"Magic," Arthur said simply. "And your uncles."

Samantha's eyes widened slightly as she quickly glanced behind her father and spotted one of her uncles, "You mean...?"

Arthur nodded with an exasperated sigh, "Yes."

Samantha's face broke into a grin, "Uncle Scot! HEY!"

She bounced over towards her Scottish uncle and threw her arms around him, catching him off guard for a moment.

"Oh, hello Sam," Alistair chuckled, hugging his niece. "How 'ave ye bin farin'?"

"Decently," Samantha smiled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Oi, wha' abaet me?" Cormac demanded, giving Samantha a pout.

Samantha smiled, kissed Cormac's cheek, and gave him a hug, "Hello Uncle Cormac."

Arthur could not believe how quickly Samantha's mood switched from enraged to joyful. He folding his arms with a pout, glaring holes into his brothers' heads. His brothers always treated Samantha like a princess, due to the fact that she was the only female in the family. She always loved it whenever her uncles visited, which was not very often. She would hardly ever leave their side, bombarding them with questions, hugs, kisses, and offering them glasses of iced tea. They would spend hours on a couch, laughing, and his brothers would cuddle and tickle her until she could not breath. Whenever it came time for them to leave they would give her kisses, spend at least another hour saying goodbye, and give her hundreds of reasons for her to visit them.

Whenever Arthur visited, Samantha would give him a smile, hug him, and then return to whatever she had previously been doing. Sometimes, if he was lucky, they might have a long conversation before bed, usually consisting of 'how have you been' 's, and 'anything new' 's. She would offer him meals during his visits, but she would never offer him tea. When he had to return home, she would hug him, and tell him to have a safe trip.

Needless to say, Arthur did not appreciate the way his brothers stole all of his daughter's attention.

He glared at Alistair as the Scotsman kissed the top of Samantha's head, and Arthur's eyes narrowed as Cormac whispered something in her ear, resulting in a small giggle.

"Jealouz, mon ami?" Francis whispered into Arthur's ear, causing Arthur to jump from surprise and turn red.

"No! Of course not! Don't be absurd!" Arthur huffed, turning to walk away from the Frenchman.

Arthur strode towards the Alamo, staring at the yellowed walls, wondering what could have possible taken place. The only logical explanations were that it had once housed someone important during a war, or was perhaps a meeting place. He already knew that battles had taken place in the area, but what was so special about this particular one was a mystery to him.

Arthur glance back over his shoulder to the group, and caught Samantha's gaze. She was staring at him with a frown, her eyes slightly distant. She was always very good at hiding her emotions, but he could tell that whatever Mexico had been doing here had obviously taken its toll on her. If there was one thing he understood about his daughter more than his brothers, it was her emotions. He understood her, he understood the slight changes in her expressions or attitudes, and he understood why she seemed to act the same way no matter the situation.

She was more like him than anyone realized.

I don't like this chapter. I feel like I didn't really spend enough time on it, but lately I've had a pretty tight schedule. I'm sorry for the really late update, but I didn't really have any time to do anything. Also, don't expect another update for a while, because I'm going to be away from my laptop for a few weeks due to traveling.

So, constructive criticism/reviews are appreciated, and I promise that I read them all. And thanks for any cool information that could be used for this story, I always like learning stuff, and it might be used at some point.

Thanks for reading, you are awesome. :)