Note from the Author: Hello! This is my first time posting something on here since 2014 (yikes, it has been A WHILE). This idea for fanfic has been with me since probably 2013 and is just something I never got around to writing. I recently decided why not? I would try it. I really hope you enjoy it, I've had a lot of fun thinking about it for the last six and a half years before I decided to write it.

Chapter One: A Request

Arthur Kirkland was not a patient man. He never had been. Too many years of fighting wars, leading charges, sailing the seas, and basically ruling the planet had left him with a bit of a temper and a desire to have things done how he wanted and when. Due to this, he often found that when put in situations where he was not in control he began to feel upset or out of his element. He didn't care for surprises because they often put him in these powerless positions that he so detested.

And no one ever surprised Arthur more than his bumbling idiot of a former colony, Alfred F. Jones.

"So, Iggy," Alfred said, throwing his feet up on Arthur's pristine coffee table.

Arthur reached over and pushed the boy's feet down. "Don't call me that," Arthur lamely interjected. There was no heat behind it, Arthur had been saying this to him since the end of World War II when their relationship had built back up some and Alfred had accidentally let the nickname from his childhood slip. At first, it was awkward for both of them, but after some time and consideration, Alfred decided he would stick with it. Any feeling in the objecting statement had died out around the 1970s, now it was just a knee jerk response. They both knew Alfred would keep calling him that. They both knew that if he stopped calling him that Arthur would be sad, even if Arthur didn't care to admit that and Alfred knew Arthur better than to ever say anything about it.

"Yeah, okay, England," Alfred said dramatically, lifting his feet back up to the coffee table. "I've been thinking-"

"Have you?" Arthur interjected with such a strong sting of sarcasm in his words that Alfred looked taken aback for a moment. "There is a first time for everything." There was a tense silence for a moment as Arthur sat looking straight forward with his arms crossed over his chest and Alfred sat looking at Arthur, half expectantly and half annoyed. "I'm sorry, lad, go on."

Alfred slumped back down into the couch having gotten the more pleasant of two responses he had been expecting to the stare he was giving. "Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "I've been thinking that maybe you could use your weird magician shit-"

"It's complicated spellcasting, but continue."

"Well then, if you could use your complicated spellcasting to help me remember something?" Arthur looked up at Alfred and stared into the big pleading blue eyes of the little boy he raised. Arthur had been planning on telling him "no" but something about the way he was looking at him reminded Arthur so much of when he was little and needed him that Arthur just couldn't do it. Besides he did actually say 'complicated spellcasting' when Arthur corrected him which said to Arthur that he was probably serious.

"Perhaps I could," he said slowly. "What are you trying to remember?"

"Okay, um," Alfred started and looked at Arthur with a hesitant expression on his face. He looked away quickly, seeming almost shy in demeanor, and spoke in a rush. "Okay, so, back in 1685 we lived in a house in -"

"Connecticut," Arthur finished, harsh but quiet. Now he understood the shyness from a moment ago. Alfred was talking about their history from before.

"Mhm," Alfred said, nodding slowly. "But we also had a house in-"

"South Carolina," Arthur said, interrupting him again. Arthur had never forgotten a detail of their time together. "America, if you were trying to remember locations, I could even be more specific than that. We don't need magic."

"No, no, that's not what I'm asking," Alfred said, making eye contact before turning away again to say, "I remember everywhere we lived."

Arthur set his jaw. Why were they having this conversation? Arthur loved having Alfred around although he would never admit it, but he was not ready to talk about their past yet. Not here, not now, definitely not with Alfred. "What are you asking then, boy?" he asked, harsher than he meant. Mentally, he kicked himself. He knew Alfred didn't like being called 'boy'.

Alfred ignored it. "The house in South Carolina," he started before having to stop and restart. "Um, when you were… gone...," he said, peeking at Arthur as he said the word. Arthur was staring at his hands which were tightly clasping one another, his jaw clenched. "I, um, I was in the market in Charleston and I picked up this really nice shaving kit I had bought. It was engraved and everything," he said.

"Why would you need a shaving kit? You can't even grow a beard now, let alone is 1685," Arthur said but upon seeing Alfred's eyes and raised eyebrows, he understood the shaving kit had not been for Alfred at all but for Arthur. "Oh, of course," he said, turning his eyes back to his clenched hands which seemed to tighten up a little.

"Yeah, anyway," Alfred said, swallowing and trying to get through this conversation. "I bought this really nice shaving kit. And I was walking home -"

"Alone?" Arthur asked before he could stop himself. You idiot, he thought to himself. This was 335 years ago, the lad obviously made it home okay.

"Yeah," Alfred said, glancing at Arthur once again from the corner of his eye. "Some men were approaching and I got really scared and I hid, and I hid the shaving kit. Well, one of the men found me hiding and demanded I go home and he followed me there." Arthur's head snapped up and his nostrils flared as he was filled with paternal anger. Whoever this man had been, he was lucky Arthur hadn't been there to watch this man scare his boy and then follow him home.

"I was so scared to go back out for a few days, and then you surprised me by coming home and I forgot about it for a few days until I remembered that I wanted to … to give it to you. But when I went to look for the shaving kit I couldn't find it. I had forgotten where it was. Um, and I know this is dumb, but I keep dreaming about it? For some reason? Like the whole event keeps, like, playing in my mind? So I was just wondering if you could help me remember where it was," Alfred paused and when he spoke again he began to pick up speed, something he had done when he was nervous since he was very little. "And I know it's stupid and it was like 350 years ago so it doesn't matter and it's gone now anyway but like, Iggy, I keep dreaming about it and it's really messing me up for some reason and I just want to remember where it was and like I know you probably have better things to do so actually nevermind I'll be fine I-"

"America," Arthur said, interrupting him. His eyes were sad and he sounded so tired that Alfred felt bad for ever bringing this up. "Does it mean that much to you?" Alfred nodded. "I'll help you."

Arthur stood slowly, feeling his age as he rose. "Come on," he said, using his hand to gesture towards his basement door.

"What - like - right now?" Alfred asked, stumbling as he quickly rose to his feet to follow the shorter man.

England rolled his head back and popped his shoulders. "Why not?" he asked. "It would work better in Charles Tow-" he started but caught himself. Charles Town? It's not been Charles Town in a very long time he thought. "It would work better in Charleston," he said, enunciating. "However, with the meetings for this month just beginning and my busy schedule who knows when I'll make it to Charleston? It could be months, years even." For just a second, the sentence hit like deja vu for both of them, and Arthur hated it.

"So what do we do?" Alfred asked, following Arthur down the creaky wooden steps and into the basement.

"Well," Arthur said, grabbing a book off of a shelf hidden under the stairs. "It's a fairly simple potion and incantation combination. I'll do all of that, obviously," he said, walking past Alfred to a large wooden table on the other side of the room, pressed up against shelves full of ingredients for potions. "What I need you to do is focus on that time, on when you lost your-" Arthur interrupted himself with the thought Your? It wasn't for him. "When you lost the shaving kit. I'll think about that period as well, hopefully, that will help get us closer to what you want," Arthur was frowning. He did not want to think about that period at all. But he agreed to help and the sooner this was over the better.

Alfred nodded and tried to stand out of the way of everything. However, Alfred was like a golden retriever, he didn't realize how big he was. He kept jostling things and giving Arthur apologetic smiles as he hit something else. Call it nostalgia, call it understanding. Either way, Arthur could tell that, for once, the boy wasn't trying to be a nuisance.

"America," he began, trying to remain patient with the usually obnoxious boy in front of him. "Just," he took a breath. "Just stand right there," he said, pointing towards an open area of the floor with runes covering the concrete and a cauldron in the middle of it.

"Uh, kay, yeah, dude. I'll just… I'll just do that," Alfred said, slowly making his way to the rune-covered floor. He looked around at them trying to make sense of the markings. "Yo, is this, like, safe? Like, are we doing like demon shit right now?"

"No, we are not. Yes, it is safe. Don't ask me questions, I did agree to help you," Arthur said while carefully gathering Rosemary and placing it to the side.

"Yep, yes, you did. Thank you," Alfred said, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. Alfred felt kind of strange about this whole thing and was beginning to wonder if this would be something he regretted shortly. He could already feel Arthur closing off some, and that made him sad. He had thought that he and Arthur had reached a place where it wouldn't be too awkward for him to ask this, but maybe he was wrong. But maybe he wasn't? Arthur had agreed to help after all.

"America," Arthur called after a few minutes.

"Yeah?" Alfred answered, head snapping up as he broke out of his train of thought.

"Bring me that cauldron," Arthur said, pointing to the cauldron on the ground in front of Alfred without taking his eyes off of the ingredients before him. Alfred picked up the cauldron and put it on the table. He started to turn around when he heard, "And America?" Alfred turned back around. "Come here," the Briton said, watching the younger. Alfred stepped closer and was surprised when Arthur reached up and yanked some of his hair out.

"Ow! What the fuck, England?"

"I needed something of yours for this. Since it is your memory," he said, adding the hair to the cauldron with the other ingredients. "It was either going to be your hair or your blood."

Alfred crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, you could've just told me."

"Mmm, perhaps," Arthur conceded, not truly paying attention as he was finishing the mixture. "Alright, America, come here," Arthur said.

"You're not going to pull out my-"

"No, I'm not taking any more of your hair."

"Okay," Alfred said and walked over to the table where the mixture was sitting stagnant in the cauldron. "What now?"

"Well, now," Arthur began. "I'm going to start the incantation, you need to look into the cauldron and breathe in the steam coming off of it-"

"There is no steam."

"There will be, don't interrupt me," Arthur said, continuing where he left off. "Breath in the steam and think about what you're trying to remember. It should appear as a vision in the cauldron. Are you ready?" Alfred nodded and leaned over to look into the cauldron. "Alright then." Arthur began to chant in Latin and slowly the mixture in the cauldron began to boil.

This is so fuckin' weird, Alfred thought to himself. Who would've thought this is how I would spend my Saturday? In Iggy's basement breathing in his potion? I wonder what Mattie would think. He wouldn't believe it. He may not believe I'm even hanging out with Iggy today. Oh, shit, I'm supposed to be thinking about Charleston. Come on, Jones, focus. Charleston, Charleston, Charleston. I didn't like living in Charleston, not then anyway. It seems like Iggy was never even there. He was always away, sailing back to England. He made sailing sound like so much fun. Why did he never take me with him? I could have been helpful. Okay maybe not. But I could've boosted morale! I wonder what it was like onboard with him. Well, he's a stick in the mud, and he always has been so honestly probably lame.

This is uncomfortable, Arthur thought over his chanting. The last thing I want to do is watch this memory of America when he was little. I suppose I'm drinking tonight then. Alright, Kirkland, focus. You told the lad you'd try to help get the time right for his memory. You probably remember much more clearly than he does anyway, he was so small. Charles Town. He said I was gone. What time was that? I was out sailing then I suppose. I surprised him so he wasn't expecting me back yet. What time was that? What was I doing? I was out privateering I'm sure. But did I cut that short for some reason?

The potion popped causing Alfred to jump back, startled. When he jumped the entire table shook just barely and from the top shelf next to the table a bottle of rosemary, a bottle of bay leaves, and a vial of ink all fell into the potion at once. The entire concoction began to bubble up and over the cauldron, sliding off the table. When it hit the table, it began to spin around the two countries, causing a spinning blue and gold wall of magic to encase them. Alfred looked fearfully at Arthur who was trying to gauge what was happening. It was then that he noticed the walls moving in slowly.

"America, take my hand," the Brit demanded, holding his hand out to the younger nation.

"Iggy, what's going on?"

"Take my hand!"

"I didn't mean to do it, I-" America began, scared and babbling.

"ALFRED," Arthur yelled, using the younger's name and shocking him into paying attention. "Take. My. Hand!"

Alfred obeyed immediately, unsure if it was because of the fear, Arthur's insistence, or the surprise of hearing his human name pass from Arthur's lips for the first time in two hundred years. Alfred took Arthur's hand just in time because the wall moved in and everything disappeared in a flash of blinding white light.

Alfred woke up groggy and having squint against hot sunlight beating down on his face. He was vaguely aware of the smell of saltwater and the squawking of seagulls overhead. The whip was whipping around his face and he was vaguely aware of the sounds of people moving about all around him.

He put his hands down to feel the rough texture of wooden boards. He pushed himself up, his head pounding. "What the-" he started, but stopped when he felt something sharp and metallic pointing into his throat.

Looking up slowly, Alfred saw first the sword digging into him and then the man wielding it. He had on worn brown leather boots and was wearing a long sweeping red coat with golden buttons and accents trailing up it. He had on a large red hat with a dark feather sticking out of it and an angry expression upon his face, shining through his green eyes.

"Who the hell are you? And how did you get on my ship?" England demanded from the other end of the sword.

This concludes chapter one! Thank you so much for reading! I do have an entire story planned out so do be on the lookout for more chapters in the near future. I would love to hear what you think though! Thank you!