The song to listen to is "The Day the Sun Disappeared" by Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood OST

You took away my eyes because you couldn't bear to see me cry

You took away my voice because you couldn't bear to hear me scream

You took away my heart because you couldn't bear to have it belong to someone else

You buried me under your house because you couldn't bear to have me leave you

My dearest darling...

YOU'VE LOST YOUR MIND

"That's enough, Billy."

Arthur's eyes snapped open at the serious toned voice. He suddenly realized that there was someone cradling him. Looking up with weary eyes, emerald orbs met sky blue.

"Alfred?"

It was him, his Alfred. His little brother had come back to him! Tears beaded at the corners of the Englishman's eyes and he quickly buried his face into the boy's bomber jacket, his arms wrapped around his neck as he sobbed.

"A-Alfred? Oh my God...A-Alfred..."

The american's eyes softened and he held the man tighter to him, "Shh, Iggy...I hate seeing you cry...I'm back now so it's okay..."

"B-But-"

"No buts, you're my big brother...you're supposed to be the strong one."

The familial term only made the Englishman cry harder and Alfred hugged him close. France sighed in relief at the sight of Arthur safe and sound, thankful for that small blessing. Matthew looked over at Bit and Andrew, who stood protectively in front of the two brothers.

"You have your audience now, Billy." Bit snarled.

"So what do you want to tell us." Andrew finished with a growl.

Matthew felt a shiver course through his spine when he looked at Billy. The "boy's" eyes were dark blue with literally swirling lighter blue swirls. The smile that literally split the monster's face in two had yet to disappear and, if anything, had gotten wider.

Alfred narrowed his eyes and held the Brit closer to his chest.

"Why are you so bent on killing Arthur?! Tell me dammit!"

The field they were standing in suddenly caught fire, however the flames were cold rather than hot.

"Why? It's because England was the one who created me, that why."

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

And so are you

But the roses are wilted

The violets are dead

The sugar bowl's empty

And there's a hole in your head

"I've had enough of their pranks! What the bloody hell were they thinking when they sent me this thing?!"

England huffed angrily as he held the wooden clock away from him in disgust. "Knowing those bastards, they put a curse on it. Damn fuckers don't know when to quit it do they?"

England had received yet another cursed "present" from his "dear" older brothers. He knew they still resented him after all those years, if their little tokens of "affection" meant anything.

"...What should I do with this thing? If I throw it out Alfred might find it and that would be a problem...I know! Alfred! I'll reverse the curse and turn it into something else! I'll turn it into a present for Alfred! The lad will love it!"

The trip to the basement and finding his spell book was a pleasant one. England couldn't wait to make a present for Alfred, convinced the boy spent too much time talking to bunnies rather than playing games like catch.

"I'll make him a ball! No...no the lad could hurt himself with a wooden ball...maybe a rocking horse? No...I know! I'll make him a house with toy soldiers! Alfred loved those dolls that Richard had!"

He gently sat down the freaky looking wooden doll in the center of his basement, then went to fetch his box of chalk. The array was far from simple, a mix of alchemic symbols and latin scrawl, and took him about two hours to complete via text. He slipped on his black cloak, mostly for aesthetic appeal, and dusted the white chalk from his person.

"Now, just to find that blasted spell...hah! Here it is!"

As he spoke the incantation the array glowed dark purple, lime green, then navy blue. Bottles on shelves rattled as wind and dust encircled the small doll and obscured it from view. Despite the want to shield his eyes, England chanted even louder. There was a loud elastic crack and he was suddenly thrown backwards in a stack of books against the wall.

The bright light and swirling wind almost immediately dissipated as the englishman slowly picked himself from the debris.

"Bloody hell!"

His arm was clearly broken, or at least dislocated-if the odd angle it hung from was any indication. He coughed the dust from his lungs and looked blearly over to the cirlce. The doll was gone, replaced by a rather large wooden house and a set of twelve little toy soldiers. England sighed and looked over to his box of paints, "I should paint them differently...Alfred would like that..."

He failed to notice that the front most soldier was faintly glowly blue...