Hey everyone! This took forever to continue. I hope it's good enough, this took a lot of effort. :P

Please read the Author's note at the bottom as well! It's really important. BTW, does anyone know what the hell I should classify this under? Drama? Hurt/comfort? Angst? Tragedy? Romance? I don't even know. It's a little bit of all.

Further into the Revolutionary War 3

England's P.O.V.

Frustration. Aggravation. Fury. Hurt. Anxiety. And a little bit of fear.

A summary of my feelings in the beginning of the war.

You were always a stubborn child; generally obedient, but easily became a right nuisance when you wanted something.

Like the Seven Years War, or the French and Indian War, as you call it.

"England." You said seriously, your blue eyes piercing into mine. Your hand tugged on my uniform firmly, and I was still getting over the shock of the formalities. My eyes flickered to your hands, slowly trailing their way back to your face. You stood fiercely, unwavering, and determined.

"I want to join the war."

Or over something less important, like a horse.

"That one!" You said cheerfully, standing on the fence, pointing to a small colt nibbling on a patch of grass.

I grimaced. "Why that one, Alfred? It hasn't been broken in yet. There are plenty of other colts, ones that have been tamed. Why don't you choose one of them, instead?" I asked, pointing away.

You shook your head resolutely. "No. That one. I want that one." You looked back at the colt, and I could see excitement, and another emotion I couldn't identify. Pride? Courage? Clearly, whatever it was, you were up for the challenge. I sighed, and purchased the horse.

(You often came back to the house beaten and battered, and I panicked and scolded you lightly over the horse. You ignored me, insisting you'd get it as I washed your bruised face and patched up your arm. I shouldn't have been surprised when you marched back in the house a few weeks later with a triumphant smile on your face.)

Or even exploring.

"Don't stand too close to the water, Alfred." I warned, half amused half serious by the boy's absolute curiosity.

"But I want to see the fish!" You replied adorably. I smiled, but remained tense, watching your small figure closely, while pretending to read my book. It was a lovely afternoon.

You peered further and further over the bank's edge. Right as I began to settle into my book, I heard a flick of water, a startled gasp, and a splash.

"Alfred?" I called in alarm, looking over to you. You were gone. I jumped to where you were, and peered over the edge anxiously. Spotting you quickly flailing in the water, I reached in and pulled you out by the collar of your gown. You were soaking wet, and already wailing into my shirt.

"There, there." I said comfortingly. I hugged you close to me, feeling you shiver despite the warm sun out, and you nuzzled you face into my chest, hiding your face, even though I could feel your small frame shuddering from crying. "I told you not to get so close to the edge." I scolded lightly. Even though everything happened so quickly, I could still feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. I held you closer. "I hope you learnt your lesson."

You hiccupped. " I just wanted to see the fish."

"Yes, well…I do hope it was worth it, seeing as you're soaking wet now. Are you satisfied?"

You whimpered a little, wiping your eyes, then nodded your head a little. I sighed. So stubborn.

"Right then. Let's get you a bath now."

I was pretty confident that this squirmish would be put out easily. I would have none of this. You were a ragtag army of farmers and workers on horses with guns. And to think you'd be up against the might of the British Empire?

Absurd.

You were more liable to shoot yourselves instead of the actual enemy.

I thought of you often throughout the war. Where you were, how you were doing, what were you doing…

What you were thinking.

I had hoped that I'd be able to subdue you within the first year, but it eventually spilled into the next. I was still confident that I'd win this, and I had just hoped you'd see your wrongs and realize that you wouldn't win. You couldn't. I wouldn't allow it. I had already dominated the waters with my naval superiority and captured American coastal cities. All I had to do now was to push in land and resubjugate the people. I had hoped you'd give up after a series of losses in the span of four months. I had even enlisted a few Indian tribes on my side to attack. There's no way you'd win.

(I wanted to crush all your hopes before they sprouted into something far worse.)

I remember seeing your army retreat in the middle of the night. I was only my horse, smirking at you and your soldiers. My men were cheering, yelling, and sneering at your soldiers as you left. I barked a laugh, turning away.

I was so cocky in the beginning I even took the time to be concerned over your well-being. I began to plan how to deal with you once you were firmly under my control, what new boundaries to set up, and what new safety precautions to lay down before something like this spilled over again. However I couldn't help but be annoyed by how well you managed to evade my grasp. I made sure my soldiers never shot at anyone with your distinct features. I ordered them to bring anyone who resembled you to me.

I walked down a line of boys, all blonde hair, blue eyed. They were anywhere from the age of twelve to seventeen. They were frightened, as they should be, with my soldiers firmly holding them straight in line. A woman cried in the background, and was yelled at immediately. Families of the boys huddled together, holding their youngest closest. I ignored it, growing more and more irritable as I looked to the end of the line.

"No." I growled. None of them were you. A boy towards the end glared at the ground and struggled a bit in a soldier's arms, but wasn't able to break away. Interested, I walked over towards him slowly, and stopped right in front of him.

He was about your age (or age-appearance, anyway) and he held that same look of determination you did. I stared at him calmly, inspecting him before feeling something snap. I punched him in the gut, and he doubled over, coughing and gasping, and he collapsed to the ground, slipping out of the soldier's grip. I grabbed his face with my hand and forced him to look at me. Young. Strongly built. Determined.

What a waste.

"Do you honestly think you can win this, hmm?" I asked him, searching his eyes for an answer. I was actually making comparisons between him and you. Except for a few facial features and other small differences, you both were similar. I vaguely wondered if you'd met. You'd probably be friends.

Anger bubbled in my chest at the thought of this, and I shook the boy. "Well do you?" I yelled. "Answer me, dammit!" I slapped him.

He was panting, and his features twisted into absolute hatred as he looked at me. I stared at him in shock, recoiling a little. I could see your face mirroring his, glaring at me like that.

Hatred.

(Why do I feel so cold?)

Had this what it had come to? I suddenly felt a pang of fear shoot through my chest, and I dropped my grip from his face, not even fully registering him collapse at my feet. My eyes glazed over, unfocusing.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pinching the bridge of my nose. "No. None of them are him!" I barked angrily, turning away. I marched back to my horse when one of my men caught up to me.

"Sir? What do you want us to do with them?" The soldier asked, referring to the boys.

'Shoot them' was on the tip of my tongue, but I hesitated; I sneaked a glance back at the line of boys. Most of them were frightened, looking around nervously. The boy on the end was being jerked up, back to a standing position. He swayed on his feet, doubled over slightly. So much youth. So much energy. So much potential.

Your face flashed in my mind, and I squeezed my eyes together, trying to shake the image out. "Take them prisoner." I ordered, mounting on my horse.

I placed my hat back on, slipping back into a mask of cool, calm indifference, and watched as my men barked the orders and rounded up the families and boys. I closed my eyes and inhaled. A sudden crash broke out, followed by several more, and I opened them to see what was going on. The soldiers were breaking the windows of the houses, and throwing torches into them, burning them. They began to burn the fields as well, and I opened my mouth to stop them, then closed it slowly.

Burning the land was going to hurt you, I had realized. I watched the flames start slowly, licking the edges of the field, before catching on when the wind picked up. I couldn't help but feel a bit satisfied; still a touch of fear and concern over burning the land, but also satisfied and a little bit smug.

This was going to hurt you, but not nearly as much as you hurt me.

1778 was shaping up to be a terrible year.

A world meeting had been scheduled sometime in January that year, and contained mostly European countries and their colonies.

Naturally, I was outraged.

"What is he doing here?" I objected at the European countries while pointing a finger at you. You looked perplexed, stunned to see confrontation when the meeting had barely began.

"He shouldn't be at this table, he is my colony, and should be seated with the other colonies over there." I said, indicating to the other side of the room, where other countries' colonies had resided. I was fuming, and nobody seemed to realize how ridiculous this was.

"I have a right to be here just like everyone else!" You objected, offended.

"You have no right to be here, you are still my colony!" I hissed back, slamming my fist on the table.

"That is not true, Angleterre, as I recall he declared his independence from you years ago." France's voice floated in. I felt my face go dark as I turned to give him a murderous glare.

"Don't you dare stick your nose where it doesn't belong, frog, you have no place in this conversation." I spat. His smirk merely darkened, and I clutched at the fabrics of the table cloth to prevent myself from murdering the idiot already. My blood was absolutely boiling, I was ready to rip his disgusting head off, and free the world from his vile presence. However, my eyes flickered towards you.

"We are behind schedule," Austria's voice cut in. He was obviously annoyed by the set back, but I couldn't give a damn. "We need to begin so we can get this over with, and behave accordingly like the civilized nations we are." His gaze slid to mine haughtily, and I glared.

"I believe we should allow him right to seat here until the war unfolds." Hungary said, clearly interested with this turn of events. I scowled at her, but she paid me no mind; too busy looking at you up and down.

'Stop looking at him, he's mine!' I wanted to bark then, but I bit my tongue as you nervously slid into your chair. The meeting began, and I narrowed my eyes at you.

The meeting was dull as usual, no one could seem to cooperate on anything. You sat tall and attentive; in any other case I would be proud, but here I found myself seething. I glanced back towards Germany, who was talking about something of supposed importance, but I didn't bother paying attention, not when I had more important matters to attend to.

My gaze shifted down the table, towards that frog idiot. I gritted my teeth as I realized he was looking at you, almost as if he was contemplating something. I clenched my hands into fists under the table, and inhaled a breath, attempting to cool off. He glanced at me, and something must have tipped him off, because he sneered at me and leaned forward on the table to get a better look at you. You caught his gaze, and gave him a smile small, and your eyes communicated with him a message I couldn't read. France smiled back, and something in my chest snapped.

The tablecloth in my hands had ripped, and my fists were shaking with rage. The table had only shifted slightly because of this, and I knew France was aware what happened, because he shifted his wine glass a centimeter and smiled warmly at you.

This was going to be a long meeting, I finally realized.

We were given a break sometime later, and France swayed over to you and placed an arm familiarly around your shoulder, dragging you closer to him. You stumbled a bit, but fell to him tightly against his torso, looking up at him questionably. He leaned closer to your head, bending slightly, and peeked at me through his hair. I felt my face twist into a scowl unconsciously, and he smirked, and proceeded to whisper something in your ear. I gritted my teeth and turned away. This was absolutely ridiculous.

He was taunting me. Dangling you right in front of me, challenging me to do something. What was this dark feeling in my chest? It felt so heavy, yet so invigorating at the same time. I was ready to fight, reading to start a war, ready to punch that frog's lights out and beat him to death.

It was suddenly so hot; why was it so hot?

I hadn't even realized I had been pacing around the long corridors until I heard a grandfather clock chime somewhere—ten minutes until the meeting picked back up again. I wasn't even hungry, and my angry pacing hadn't done much to clear my thoughts either. I was about to round another corner briskly when I heard a familiar voice drift down the hallway. I tucked myself away from sight, listening intently.

"Espagne, just consider it. The possibilities are right in front of you, mon ami."

"I…will have to consider it, amigo. I am concerned this will inspire something similar within my own empire. Perhaps…voy a pensar en ello." The Spanish speaking nation replied.

I gritted my teeth, pressing myself even further against the wall as the two nations walked by unknowingly. I had no idea what they were talking about, but it didn't sound good. Nothing from those two could be trusted. I waited until their footsteps faded away before stepping out into the corridor, taking off in the opposite direction.

I had picked up pace, trying to put together what I had heard when you rounded the corner in front of me. You gasped softly, coming to a complete halt, freezing right in front of me.

I froze as well, I had barely seen you in the past two years, and now was the only time to take a good look at you, and absorb everything I've missed. You were nearly my height, standing straight up tall in your uniform. I couldn't be certain, but it almost looked like your clenched fists were shaking. Time slowed, and we stared at each other for a few moments longer.

"Alfred," I said, breaking out of my reverie. You flinched visibly, and I couldn't help but feel a little bit hurt by that. I ignored it, continuing with a neutral look and a level voice. "It's been a while." I continued, and could not help but feel a bit smug by this. The last time I had seen you, you were retreating.

You jutted your chin out, almost defiantly. "Not really." You disagreed. "I hadn't even noticed."

I sighed and took a step closer, ignoring you tense up at the action. You were so stubborn; must you contradict everything I say? I moved closer to you, closing the space between us despite you taking a step back. I cupped my hands around your face and rested my forehead against yours, closing my eyes and allowing myself to relax, to take in your familiar scent. You stopped breathing apprehensively.

"Always on the attack," I murmured. I opened my eyes. "How have you been?"

You clenched your teeth. "As well as anyone who's been in a war for three years." You said angrily.

"Two," I corrected. It hadn't really started until that silly declaration. "And you started it. Had you only listened to be and trusted me, we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

You scowled, and jerked out of my grasp. I frowned. "We've already been through this! You know why I've declared independence from you, and I don't intend to continue repeating my self."

I sighed, blowing off the slight pain in my chest as you said that. I was beginning to become annoyed. "Just give up—you know you can't win. Give up now, and plenty of lives will be spared. You don't really want innocent people dying over such a silly matter, do you? Just quit, it's nothing to be ashamed of—in fact I'd consider it more noble, doing the right thing like a hero, and everything will end peacefully and bloodlessly."

"England!" You said frustratedly. "I'm doing the right thing—what's best for my people. We are defending our natural rights; something you've completely stomped over."

Anger began to bubble in my chest. "I am doing no such thing! I am merely protecting my consitution against usurpers, such as yourself. Don't try to twist my actions around!"

"I am twisting nothing around, but merely stating the truth."

"How can you know the truth when you don't even know the world; what's in it, what lies within it, what lurks beneath the surface. You're hardly two centuries, stop acting like you know everything." I replied coldly.

You glared, clenching your jaw. I sighed, taking another step closer, holding my hand out to reach to your face. You took a step back. I stared coldly at you.

Recollecting myself, I stated, "The British Empire is offering a proposal of reconciliation to the thirteen colonies. A peace treaty can be established, and relations can continue as before, if not better. All past actions will be forgiven." I held my hand out as extension.

Your blue eyes pierced into me, staring me up and down, searching for something. I gave you a cool, calm, leveled look, hoping whatever you were looking for was there. You could trust me; I was being completely sincere.

I was ready for you to come home.

You looked down, your beautiful blue eyes fluttering for a minute. They moved back and forth, and I couldn't figure out what was going on through your head. Finally, you looked back at me, whatever internal chaos going on in your head gone.

You bowed slightly, then stood up tall. "Thank you, but the United States of America kindly refuses." You stated clearly, and I felt my arm go heavy, dropping slightly. "Best wishes to the British Empire; have a good day." And with that, you brushed past me, continuing back towards the meeting room.

I stared back at you in utter shock.

There were no words.

The war continued.

As much as I tried to console myself, I couldn't help but feel the growing pit of dread in my stomach.

That bastard France allied himself with you, and the next year he managed to rope Spain as an informal ally as well.

I was quickly becoming alarmed; rumors were flying everywhere that the French and the Spanish were planning to invade my island. They were sour bastards, the lot of them. While it is not referred to, what started as a simple little skirmish in your land had eventually erupted in to the first global war. Before I knew it, my hands were tied in different locations around the globe. I suppose I should have expected that, after gaining so much territory. But I was soon finding myself in a difficult place when war erupted in European waters, the West Indies, the Gulf Coast, and the Midwest. I started to realize that I had no allies, no friends, no one to rely on.

Enemies everywhere I looked.

The world suddenly felt very cold.

All because of a spoiled bunch of yanks causing trouble.

With this reasoning, I eventually dedicated myself to the root of the problem.

You.

I left my men to take care of the other fronts, while I'd tackle the American colonies. I've never been so angry, so I didn't know what I'd do with you when I found you.

I never did.

I was restless. A constant companion throughout this whole mess. After tossing and turning in my bunk, I threw off the makeshift blanket and tugged on my boots, walking outside the tent.

"Sir?" My soldier questioned to me, standing guard dutifully. He looked startled, obviously not expecting any activity in the middle of the night.

"Sh." I shushed him. I'm threw some items in a pouch, slinging them over my shoulder. "I'll be going on a separate mission. Alone. Don't be alarmed if I don't come back in a few days. Tell the other men in the morning. They'll take care of it." I ordered as I mounted my horse.

The soldier boy raised an arm salute. I saluted back. However, before I left I paused, and instructed him, "Whatever you do, don't stop fighting. Am I perfectly clear?"

"Understood, sir."

Satisfied, I took off into the night.

A heavy feeling sat on my chest the next morning, and I continued traveling, allowing the feeling to lead me. I felt a spark of anticipation and excitement. Could it be? I traveled the whole day until it was well into the night. A soft pounding was in the back of my head, and I dismounted my horse, traveling by foot.

I reached the border of a camp when I saw him. Disappointment ran through my veins like a cold bucket of water. I crouched low, grinding my teeth together angrily, gripping the leaves of a small tree. Relax, I reminded myself. It would not do to lose it so close.

He suddenly raised his head, alarmed. Looking around, a few bystanders asked him something that I couldn't make out. It wasn't English. He nodded, mumbling something back before standing up. He came closer to me; he couldn't see me, but he was edging out of the camp.

He shuffled around half blindly through the thick forestry. He began whispering out anxiously.

"Antonio? Alfred? Who's there?"

I began to see red when I heard him call out your name so familiarly. Who was he, to act so familiar, when he knew nothing? He knew nothing of our relationship, and the fact that he used your human name so easily infuriated me.

(Punishment. I had to punish him. You were mine. Mine. Mine. My personal light. My joy. My little bird. My happiness. It makes perfect sense to protect something by caging it. He just wants to take you away from me. I don't want to show you to the world, you might be stolen away. Stolen away by someone like him. He wouldn't treat you right, you'd just be trophy, a knick-knack, a whore, a nothing—)

The branch I was gripping snapped, and he whipped his head to look in my direction.

"Alfred?" He called out cautiously.

I lost it. I fucking jumped that French arsehole, wrapping my fingers around his throat and tackling him to the ground. We were far enough away from the camp that no one would hear.

"France." I snarled, landing a swift punch to his face. I tightened my grip around his throat, feeling him choke beneath me. I couldn't help but smile at the sight of his patheticness. I've waited for this moment for so long.

"What in the bloody fuck are you doing in this war?" I hissed at him. "You have no business in my affairs with my colonies, and as I own most of the land on this godforsaken continent, I don't know why the hell you're even here."

I loosened my grip, allowing him some air to reply. He merely sneered at me. "What's wrong, Angleterre, can't even handle a small uprising from your colonies? You know what they say: The bigger they are, the harder they fall." He spat in my face.

Disgusted and furious, I wiped away the saliva from my face and began to beat him in every area available.

"Everything was perfectly fine until you slinked by. I could have perfectly handled everything, but you damn Europeans always have to meddle, don't you? I won this land fair and square, so why the fuck you guy insist on whining and crying over your sorry arses is beyond me."

France's face turned into a scowl. "Don't talk as if you aren't one of us, English scum. And you can't continue acting as though everything is under control, can you? You have too much area to cover around the globe to protect. Try as you may, but something is going to slip through your grasp." By this the frog was smirking again.

My face twisted into anger. I tightened my grip, not even feeling pleased when France began to choke before me. Tighter, tighter, I kept telling myself. I hated this man. I hate him so much. I hate him, his country, and everything he represents. I just wanted to choke the life out of him slowly and painfully.

A fist came flying towards my face before I could react. It caught me in the ear, and soon I was wrestled off of the Frenchman. He pinned my arms above my head and sat on top of me despite my struggling. His face was furious as well, and it twisted into something darker and he leaned forward to whisper to me.

"Je vous déteste. Je déteste tellement." He began chanting in my ear. I writhed around, refusing to listen.

"English, you bastard!" I yelled. "I refuse to speak or listen to that disgusting language of yours!"

Pinning my wrists together above my head, he gripped my face and forced me to look at him. "You've taken away something very precious to me. I can never forgive you for that." He hissed darkly.

My eyes widened of their own accord. I felt a sick taste of bile rise in the back of my throat.

"My precious petite colonie, my little Matthieu…" He trailed off, eyes becoming unfocused, staring at something above my head sorrowfully. It only lasted a moment, and the next second he tightened his grip around my wrists and glared murderously at me.

"You've taken away my little boy, mon rayon de soleil, and it is only fair that I take away yours." He hissed. He lifted me up and punched me in the gut, forcing all the air out of my lungs, causing me to double over in pain, gasping for breath. I stumbled to the side when he struck me again. I looked up as he wiped blood from his mouth. His gaze targeted mine angrily. I met it back, just as angry, but also a bit of fear flooding into my chest.

(My boy, my love, my treasure, my escape from the world—)

"I am going to make you pay!" France snarled as he pulled out his sword and swung to hit me. I narrowly dodged it, feeling my adrenaline pick up. I hastily pulled my own out as well, and our swords clashed furiously, echoing in the silent night. He swung, I parried, he struck again, I redirected it, I cut his hair, he sliced my arm, I struck out elsewhere, he ducked—

Shouting from the camp broke through our fight. France responded quickly in a flurry of French that I didn't bother to stick around for. I bolted towards my horse, my heart pounding in my ears as the French began rushing towards their comrade. Just as I mounted my horse I heard a brief shout, and a bullet whizzed by, cutting through a bush, startling a few animals.

I quickly kicked my horse into action, and we took off into the night. I felt a searing pain knick my shoulder and I gasped, but I didn't look back, and just kicked the horse to go faster, faster…

Things were falling apart. I could no longer deny it at this point. We were at war with the Dutch now because they violated claims of neutrality.

We were at war around the globe.

(He was aiding you, giving you guns, ammunition, supplies, thinking I wouldn't find out. He wants me gone, out of the way, just another fucking European to deal with.)

My king even sent a letter across the Atlantic to me. My blood turned to ice as I scanned through it again and again.

"Great Britain will officially give up hope of subduing the New England colonies when there is a European war to fight.

However we will never acknowledge the independence of the Americans.

We will punish their rebelliousness by prolonging the war into eternity.

We will destroy coasting trade, bombard all ports, and sack and burn every town along the coast.

We will turn lose the Native Americans to attack the civilians.

We will keep the rebels harassed, anxious, and poor until discontent, and the disappointment will turn into regret and remorse over their actions.

Great Britain plans to resubjugate its rebellious colonies after dealing with its European allies."

I felt a lot of emotions after this letter, however thinking back, I don't know if I can identify all of them. Dread? Anxiety? Fear? Concern?

Humiliation? Disgrace? Shame? Horror?

Smug? Vengeful? Angry? Arrogant?

Is it even possible to feel all this at once?

Well if we were going to drag out this war, then by God we'd drag it out.

I don't like thinking back to this part much, remembering how much of a barbarian I acted like. I led my men into town after town, farm after farm, taking everyone prisoner, shooting anyone who resisted, and leaving the place in flames. The feeling of being untouchable and powerful returned, and for a brief amount of time, I felt good when I saw terror strike the faces of colonists as they recognized me, and how they grew to fear the men in red.

Lobsterbacks?

Don't make me laugh.

But time wore on, and I hadn't seen you at all throughout the war.

(Where were you? Why were you hiding? Were you hiding from me? Why won't you let me see you?

I need to see you. I just need to know you're somewhere, anywhere, just please contact me, I want to hear your voice. )

I began to imagine horrid things, jumping to conclusions late at night, biting my nails and sweating over the unknown. Were you hurt? Were you injured? Were you eating well, getting the appropriate amount of sleep? I was tearing my hair out. That bastard frog didn't try anything, did he? I felt my protectiveness slip on, and I had to calm myself multiple times just to think clearly and act rationally.

I began to wake up.

I looked behind me, and the good all-powerful feeling had completely rotted away. I saw burning buildings, broken families, young dead soldiers littering the road, an air of despair, horror, agony, and….

Hatred.

(I was a monster, a monster, a monster, a fucking monster, a monster—)

I threw up.

When had things escalated this far? Where did my lovely little boy go? Those soft smiles and adoring looks that we gave each other? Those summer nights and winter days, those affectionate kisses and loving hugs, where did it go?

(Our relationship burned, burned, just like the remainders of that church over there.)

And then it all boiled down to that day.

The clouds rolled in, looming over the town, giving a sense of apprehension.

I still remember the moment Cornwallis turned to me and uttered those four words:

"The situation is hopeless."

My blood turned to ice.

Soon your troops were cheering, throwing their hats in the rain, marching around and hugging one another. That man, Washington, called order and began leading them away in the rain. I gripped the window sill.

This could not be happening.

I cannot express what I was feeling in that moment; my head was spinning, and I vaguely remember crushing the wood beneath my fingers, not even feeling the wood slash my fingers. Your troops began walking away; marching out of the vicinity, back to celebrate to God knows where.

I gritted my teeth, tasting blood in the back of my throat. I couldn't help my temper and spun around on Cornwallis. "How could you? How could you let the situation escalate this far? This is an absolute disgrace to the empire!" I shouted furiously. I grabbed my musket despite the shocked protests and burst out the door, following your troops. Blood pounded in my ears as I gained ground, coming closer. I recognized your figure immediately, trailing in the back.

"Alfred!" I shouted. It was becoming increasingly difficult to see; the rain began pouring in gallons and the air dropped to freezing, it was absolutely a nightmare running in the mud.

You stiffened, and turned around. Several lines of men stopped to look behind, and eventually the whole troop stopped walking completely. You were absolutely alarmed.

I pointed my musket at you nonetheless; I knew exactly how hopeless the situation was. I was here alone. A redcoat in a sea of blue.

"I'll be damned if this is over! I'll never let you go, Alfred!" I roared across the few yards of mud in between us. I clenched my musket tighter.

You visibly clenched your teeth, and raised your musket to me defensively. "All I want is freedom! I am no longer a child nor your little brother. I'm becoming independent from you from now on!"

Each word was a knife to my heart. I could feel a dull pounding in the back of my head, steadily growing louder and louder. My throat constricted. My chest ached, like a gaping whole was tearing its way through, making it difficult to breath. This could not be happening. This could not be happening.

My body acted of its own accord; I charged at you, musket out, not even processing what I was doing. "I won't bloody allow it!" I screamed.

Surprise couldn't ever express the emotion on your face. You were so caught off guard you lowered your musket in shock and just barely managed to catch my weapon in the center of yours. I forced you back a foot, and soon you lost your grip and the musket flew out of your hands a few yards away. You stared in horror down the barrel of my gun. Slowly, your ice blue eyes found their way back to mine. I was out of breath, panting for air. I gripped my musket so hard it began to crack between my fingers. I glared lividly at you.

"You idiot! You just had to bloody well follow this through to the end!"

I panted heavily. My head was racing and my heart was pounding furiously. A tight knot found its way in my stomach, and I swallowed back bile. The need to throw up was rising again. You stared at me uncertainly, a look of betrayal, hurt, and sadness etching its way across your features.

(After all we've been through, all the love we shared, here we are, standing on two opposite sides of a war.)

Why did that affect me so much? Why do I care? Why do you mean so much to me?

I trembled, and the musket slipped through my fingers. I fell to my knees, already sobbing before I touched the ground. The mud sloshed beneath me, and I covered my face in shame, barely managing to choke out softly, "I can't. I can't shoot you. I can't."

(Please, please. Don't leave me.)

"Why?" I croaked. "Why did it have to be this way?" My body shuddered, and I curled in on myself further, gasping for air in between sobs.

(Why did you change? What happened? Where did I go wrong?)

You took a hesitant step closer, then paused. You stepped back. Softly, a low murmur, a whisper in the wind,

"You used to be so great…"

(Shatter.)

You were gone.

I was alone.

(This feeling of hollowness, eating my insides, choking my soul, what is this?)

I screamed, but there was no one there to here it. The rain drowned out everything. I held my head, and curled in on myself. My chest hurt, I couldn't breath. I hugged myself, bringing my knees to my chest, gasping for air. There's a hole, a gaping hole in my chest, I can't breathe. No matter how I cover it, it won't go away. The rain is cold, it's falling in buckets, and here I am, choking, drowning, suffocating—

Where are you? Where did you go? Why did you leave me?

(Is this what loneliness feels like? I feel so cold. I can't breathe. I just want to sleep.)

Alfred…

(A flash of your childish face, smiling.)

Alfred…

(You tucked safely and warmly away in my chest, slowly falling asleep under the blankets.)

Alfred.

(Your hand reaching out to mine, calling my name as we walk home.)

Gone. Out of my grasp. My treasure, my personal light, my little bird.

Gone.

Slipped away.

Well, that's the end of the Revolutionary War. Anyone detect feelings of possessiveness and jealousy in England? ,':D

This was really hard to write guys, I'm sorry it took so long. But with life, no inspiration, and no motivation, this was really difficult to write. I'm not even sure I like it. I constantly thought about it, where to go next, trying to dissect Alfred and Arthur's relationship, but everything became a jumble in my head, and eventually some stuff was lost. It's really hard to write emotions into words. I could never seem to successfully transfer what was in my head to on the computer. Plus I kept trying to fuse ACTUAL HISTORY with Himaruya's Hetalia (which, I know, is not always correct), but I wanted to mix history, Hetalia's canon, and my own headcanon. It was kinda hard. :/

So I don't know if anyone actual read that ramble up there, but PLEASE READ THIS because I need some opinions.

So we all know that the USUK relationship has Unresolved Sexual Tension, yeah? Well I'm constantly trying to figure out where does it end? Some people like to have it end after WWII, on VE Day. Others like to extend it out to present modern day. Personally, I like to think they got over it after WWII (because extending further than that is just excessive!) but if I were to continue with their UST/relationship history in this story, where should I stop? Because I'm planning to end this where they both get over their insecurities and start an actual relationship. But if they get over it after WWII, we're cutting out all the Cold War stuff. But if we extend it (I still find this excessive), their UST will continue on to present day BUT I'll get to cover the Cold War. So what do you guys think?

But this is assuming that I'm going to continue this. Frankly, writing this is exhausting, and researching history is sometimes difficult to understand and then write about accurately, and then transferring it into a decent APH universe story.

I might just take a break. Plus, I'm also playing with the idea of writing Alfred's P.O.V. as a separate companion story. What do you think?

Please review! All reviews are very much appreciated. After putting so much effort I'd really love to hear your thoughts and opinions!