"Who wants to look back on their years and wonder where those years have gone?" I Hope You Dance, Lee Ann Womack.

Arthur did not fully understand what Thanksgiving was.

Then again, could anyone blame him? He had not even heard of such a thing in England, but the colonists were bustling around as if it were the most important thing they had ever had to do. It appeared to be especially important to Matthew, Katyusha, and Alfred, and Ivan lit up when he heard that it would be occurring soon, but Elizaveta honestly looked rather neutral at the thought of it all.

"All it means is more cooking," she sighed when Arthur asked her opinion about it one morning at the tavern.

Arthur truly wanted to ask about, but when Alfred practically begged Elizaveta for a three-day-long Thanksgiving, to which she responded that that was entirely unnecessary and they did not even need to celebrate a personal harvest, anyway, Alfred deflated dramatically. It then occurred to Arthur that if he were to ask anyone, they would certainly not be Alfred. It would probably cause Arthur to become assaulted by how much the American treasured the event.

"Say," Arthur started, leaning over the counter of the bar as Elizaveta swiped a rag around the inside of a glass. "What entirely is Thanksgiving?"

Elizaveta paused, shooting him a bemused glance. "You don't know what Thanksgiving is?" she asked, leaning towards him as well in a gesture of interest.

Arthur shook his head. "There is no such thing in Great Britain," he explained.

Elizaveta looked surprised, but Arthur could not blame her. If he did not know that Americans celebrated Thanksgiving, then it made sense that she would not know that the British did not. "Dear God," she muttered, "don't tell Alfred that."

Arthur smirked lightly. "I was not planning on it."

She smirked back at him, before clearing her throat. "Well, it really is just a large feast to celebrate the good harvest – for most people, anyway"—she continued to clean her glass—"for some it's a religious celebration, mostly Puritans, but I am certainly not Puritan and Lord help us if Alfred ever could survive such beliefs."

It seemed that the bustle for Thanksgiving would never end. Of course, it started slow – at first, it was honestly just Alfred that seemed so overenthusiastic. But as November wore on, Arthur began to notice the changes in the market, especially to do with what was available. Large numbers of turkeys and pigeons, for example. Arthur did not think he had seen so many dead turkeys and pigeons in one place before in his entire life. There were also pigs and what was left of the pumpkins, the pumpkins seemed to be especially valuable, while everything else taken over by other odd vegetables.

Americans did in fact take their feasts seriously, it appeared.

Then, one night when everyone had just gotten together at the Jones' New Jersey household and the women were conversing lightly at the kitchen counter, Ivan playing with what seemed to be some doll made out of hay and Arthur warming his palms by the fire, Alfred walked in through the door. A wind whipped behind him, his jacket rustling wildly, and he only managed to close the door after a few stray, dully coloured leaves escaped into the home.

He waved an envelope in his hand. "It seems we've gotten a delivery. The mail boy was making his rounds in the neighbourhood and handed me this as I was tethering the horses."

Elizaveta frowned at the leaves on the floor, before turning her attention back to her husband and his letter. She beckoned him over to the table as Arthur watched, his interest perked. "Well, hand it over, then." Wasting no time, and ever so graceless, Alfred ripped open the small package and scanned quickly over the page. He frowned. "What is it?" Elizaveta prompted, and Alfred put down the letter with a sigh.

"Do we have to go?" he nearly pleaded and, puzzled, Elizaveta slid the letter over to herself in order to read it.

"Dearest Elizaveta"—she began—"your mother requests your family's presence at Thanksgiving dinner this fortnight, and she would be delighted if you were to come. She claims that she wishes to see how you have been doing and catch up on what she has missed." Elizaveta scanned quickly over the rest of the page, seeming to ignore most of it, before concluding with: "Sincerities, Roderich."

Elizaveta snorted. "Always the formal one," she muttered. Alfred cast her an imploring glance, and with a sigh, Elizaveta shook her head. "This is my mother," she told Alfred firmly. "If she has invited us, then we will go."

"But what of our Thanksgiving dinner?" asked Alfred stubbornly, and Arthur could barely restrain himself from scoffing. The man was such a child.

Ivan paused from where he had dislodged a piece of hay from his doll and was about to test how easily it could catch on fire. He looked up at Arthur with wide eyes. "No Thanksgiving?" he asked in horror.

Arthur stared. What was he supposed to say to the child? Actually, why was the child asking him to begin with?

Elizaveta looked with dread at the mess she knew she was slowly creating. "There will be Thanksgiving," she said loudly, to make sure Ivan had heard, before turning to Alfred. "We'll take what we have to them. My mother has likely invited the neighbours as well, and that will be quite a few people." She frowned, suddenly. "I should probably tell her that it's going to be more than just you and I, though."

Alfred shot a non-discreet glance towards Arthur, and Arthur wanted to disappear. Right, they would be going to Elizaveta's only remaining family's house to eat dinner, and chances were, they were as patriotic as at least Elizaveta.

Lovely.

"Who is Roderich?" Arthur asked politely, instead of voicing his concerns.

Elizaveta looked up at him in surprise, most likely having forgotten that he was there. Ivan crawled over to the soldier and began playing with his shirt cuffs, buttoning and unbuttoning them, and though the behaviour was rather curious, Arthur found no harm in it. "He's my nephew," she explained, slipping the letter back into the envelope. "Not biologically, though. He is slightly younger than I and takes care of my mother – they're neighbours, and we were very close as children."

Arthur felt slightly rude for intruding, but his interest won him over. "Why call him nephew, though? Why not brother, or cousin?"

Elizaveta chuckled. "He and his brother, Antonio, were as far apart as siblings can possibly get. Antonio and I got along just fine, though. He always figured that Antonio and I were the real siblings, and took to calling me his aunt. However, I have no idea where he got the notion that I was related to his father."

Arthur blinked, before politely smiling. "What an odd situation," he commented, and Elizaveta nodded, shaking her head in amusement.

"The funniest part is probably that he still considers me his aunt. Too bad he stopped calling me Aunt Lizzie," she said with a grin.

"Oh, Matthew, Ivan, and I will just stay here and have dinner with each other if it's too much of a bother for your mother and Roderich," Katyusha said, seeming to speak up for the first time since the entire conversation had started. She looked concerned, glancing at the letter worriedly.

Elizaveta's attention turned away from Arthur to focus on the other woman, assuring her hastily that it would be trouble at all, and Arthur instantly began to tune their voices out. Instead, he looked down at Ivan, who was sitting in his lap and playing with the buttons of his uniform jacket that he had yet to take off. The house was beginning to get a bit cold with the start of winter, and Arthur was reluctant to take off his jacket until the hearth had warmed the entire room. He arched an eyebrow at the five year old boy. "Why, hello there, chap," he greeted, his voice transforming into one laced with amusement and enthusiasm meant for children as he lifted Ivan by his sides to look at him. "Mind telling me what mischievous activities you've been attempting to do?"

Ivan giggled and glanced down at the buttons of Arthur's jacket. Arthur followed his eyes, intentionally dramatic, as he spotted all of his jacket having been undone. "Oh!" he cried softly, mocking a surprised expression. "Is the lad I have here secretly a spy? It looks as if he's ruffled my clothing without me noticing at all."

Ivan tried to hide the gleeful expression on his face, but it failed miserably. Arthur hummed thoughtfully, setting Ivan down in his lap. "You do know that such rascals are to be punished, correct?"

"I'm not scared of you!" Ivan exclaimed, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his chin with a childish grin.

"Oh, but you should be," Arthur said, forcing his face to look serious, but sticking out his bottom lip in order to not make it possibly menacing. He quickly moved his fingers before Ivan could respond over Ivan's sides, and the boy instantly melted into a series of choked laughs and giggles. He fell off of Arthur's legs and tried crawling away, but Arthur only picked him back up and placed him in his lap again, targeting the boy's neck and underarms.

"Mama!" cried Ivan as he tried to get away again. "Mama, help!"

There was an eruption of laughter behind Arthur, and he glanced over his shoulder briefly to see Katyusha smiling happily at the display. Alfred was casting him an odd look, one that Arthur did not take the time to decipher, and Elizaveta looked thoroughly entertained. "Oh, no," Arthur said dramatically with the shake of his head. "Is the tough lad I know seeking his mum's help, or will he escape on his own?"

Ivan squealed, getting up to run but being tugged back by the end of his shirt. Instantly, he turned and used Arthur's grip to take off his shirt then made a break for it, hiding behind Alfred's legs and giggling breathlessly. Forgetting himself for the moment, Arthur laughed, ignoring the look that Alfred instantly shot him.

Arthur had actually laughed. A genuine laugh, not one of his smirks or wry chuckles. It seemed that Elizaveta noticed it, too, as her grin opened and her eyes widened in pleasant surprise. Alfred found the sound to be stuck on replay in his head, and suddenly, he wanted to hear it again. Arthur looked up at Katyusha and winked, holding up her son's shirt. "I suppose that you would like this back, my lady?"

Arthur really was just full of surprises that night, Alfred concluded.

Thanksgiving night was awkward.

Well, it felt awkward for Arthur, at least. The ride to Elizaveta's mother's house was hardly silent, what with Ivan jumping around and asking if he could start eating the food that Katyusha had packed away in the back of the coach. If Arthur were to be honest, though, Alfred seemed to be more excited than Ivan was. What was the fuss all about, really? It was just food. But the ride was not what was awkward. It was walking to the doorstep that was awkward, and having the door opened to a short lady with greying hair that was having trouble standing. She gently embraced Elizaveta, but talked so quietly that even though she rambled, it was impossible for anyone but Elizaveta to hear. Behind the old woman stood a tall, brunette man, with a completely serious expression on his face and the slightest of frowns.

"Elizaveta," he greeted stiffly, but Elizaveta tutted and moved to engulf the man in a full hug. Roderich's eyes widened as he was forced to lean down uncomfortably, but managed to wrap an arm around the woman before she spun away and began introducing everyone.

"Roderich, mother," she said in turn, "meet my husband, Alfred." Alfred grinned his usual charming grin for others, putting forward a hand to shake for Roderich, and very softly hugging the old woman. Elizaveta moved back so that everyone else was in view, with Arthur far behind attempting to not hang his head in the uncomfortable feeling of being around such strangers. "This is Matthew, Alfred's brother, his wife, Katyusha, and their child, Ivan," she said, pointing to each in turn. She frowned as she could not seem to find Arthur for a moment, before locating him behind Katyusha. "And that is Arthur, the soldier that has been staying with us."

Arthur greatly appreciated how casually Elizaveta had introduced him, and was surprised when Elizaveta's mother made no rude move. She greeted Arthur kindly with a hug as she had done to everyone else, despite Arthur not knowing her at all, and her soft nature, neutrality, and kindness had Arthur taking an instant liking to her. Roderich remained impassive, though Arthur thought he saw the twitch of an indistinguishable expression on his face. The brunette man raised his chin, said hello, told them to follow, and walked off.

Arthur thought that the man acted more like a butler than a neighbour who happened to check up on an old woman every now and then.

They were led into a rather spacious dining room at the end of a narrow hallway, and Arthur found the contrasting proportions rather odd. Still, he could be grateful that the dining room was a rather nice size. He had started getting concerned about how they were to seat everyone, plus the possible neighbours that Elizaveta had mentioned.

Sure enough, there were already a few people there. Three woman and a man. Two of the women were elderly, though not terribly frail or weak, while the other one appeared to be Arthur's age. The man was also older, but he had a fair amount of muscle to him and Arthur considered him to be about middle aged. All of them were middle aged, save for the girl, actually, but he figured that they might have been unhealthy enough to appear older. It was not in his place to prod.

Elizaveta's mother, Arthur had no idea what her name was as he had no clue as to Elizaveta's maiden one, gestured to everyone, and the room quieted so that her voice could be heard. She pointed to the middle aged man, first. "This is Mr. Zwingli and Mrs. Zwingli with their daughter, Lillian, and next to them is Ms. Laurian and Ms. Bradwill," then the woman turned to the guests just arriving and explained who everyone was in turn, but Arthur tuned her out until she finished with a, "and I, of course, am Ms. Hedervary. Now, who would like to say the prayer?"

Hedervary, there it was. Arthur frowned thoughtfully. Romanian? Hungarian? Somewhere in that area.

Everyone was finally seated, and with not getting distracted by the trouble of remember all the names he was hearing, Arthur was finally able to get a clear look of the sheer amount of food presented, with the addition of what Elizaveta had already made.

Roasted turkey, pigeon, pig, pumpkin, pumpkin pie, apple pie, cooked tomatoes, cabbage, spinach, chicken, carrots, pastries filled with cream and topped with raspberry, cinnamon pastries topped with apple, pumpkin topped with pastries, something that looked suspiciously like huckleberry jam and strawberry jam and raspberry jam and blackberry jam, bread, garlic bread, toasted bread, walnuts and cranberry and cashews and almonds, three different bowls of different salad, yogurt and stuffing and cream, earl grey tea and black tea and some yellowish milky oddity and why in the world was all of it necessary?

Alfred was in a rather good mood. Arthur knew he was in an exceptionally good mood because at his gawking expression, the colonist nudged him in the shoulder and grinned so wide that Arthur was convinced his teeth would fall right out of his mouth.

The only thing he could answer with was, "I understand now why you need so much food for the winter."

The only thing Alfred answered with was, "Wait until Christmas."

Arthur was staring at his food so intently that he completely missed the prayer.

He felt his shoulder opposite from Alfred being tapped, and Arthur turned to meet the soft, green eyed gaze of the young woman he distantly recalled was named Lillian.

"Arthur, right?" she asked softly, and Arthur nodded, swallowing to clear his throat.

"Yes," he answered. "Lillian, correct?"

She smiled. "Correct. Not many remember my name."

Arthur frowned. "Why is that?"

"I am rather quiet," she replied with a shrug. "It's more difficulty remembering someone who speaks less."

Arthur chuckled softly. "I believe you would get along just well with Matthew."

"Does he not speak much?" Lillian asked, intrigued. She was a pretty lass, Arthur had to give her that. Her long, braided blonde hair was adorned with a lovely blue shade of ribbon, and she had donned a blue Germanic dress. It contrasted with her big eyes and made them seem slightly turquoise.

Arthur hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know him well enough to say, but I have seen him get mistaken for his brother at the tavern more times than I can count."

Lillian giggled, casting a glance at Alfred, who was busy downing his food with all the glee of Christmas morning. When he laughed, it was a laugh that echoed and caught attention, and usually caused the person he was speaking with to become embarrassed. "I can picture that," she said.

Arthur nodded but did not respond, instead looking over the table to see where he could possibly begin to eat. No one else had the same troubles, but it would seem entirely rude if he did not start eating quickly.

"Are you not hungry?" Lillian asked with a frown, looking at Arthur's empty plate, and he flushed lightly at what he had been trying to avoid.

"I am," he countered, his eyes glued to the slowly vanishing turkey. "Just a slight bit… overwhelmed."

"Overwhelmed?" pressed Lillian.

Arthur nodded. "I have never celebrated Thanksgiving before."

Lillian's eyes widened. "Really?" she said incredulously. "It's always been my favourite part of the holidays. Oh, you must try everything!"

The soldier stared at her in near horror. "Everything?" he echoed.

Lillian giggled again, catching on to his horrified expression. "Just try, not eat the entire table."

Arthur glanced over to his right, where Alfred's plate was piled high. "Honestly, I seem to be the only one having difficulties with that part."

The blonde girl tilted her head to regard Alfred. "This is probably the only time that he has free reign to eat without needing to save some for others."

"You mean he saves some for others when he eats daily? Miss, I believe you have it all wrong," Arthur protested playfully.

Beside them, Alfred swallowed a bite of raspberry bread and looked at them in what he tried to make a serious frown, but really only ended up as a lopsided smile. "I can hear you two, you know."

"Oh dear!" Lillian exclaimed. "It appears as if we've been caught!"

"Hide the food!" Arthur responded in similar manner, and the three laughed.

And there the awkwardness dispersed. It appeared as if everything before that night had been suddenly forgotten in the warm lighting of the hearth and plentiful candles, the wind whistling unheard outside, and hours later, when everyone was full but still in their chairs talking contently and no one wished to leave at all, Arthur and Alfred could be found talking amongst just themselves with Lillian having gone to play with Ivan. Not a word of any politic was spoken.

Oh god, oh god, oh god, how do I start, how do I begin?

I am so so so so sorry to everyone about how I literally just dropped off the face of the earth and haven't been seen since July. I can't believe it's already October. I was planning on getting this done by September, and now I doubt I'm going to be getting it done by my birthday. I count birthday as New Year. It's a new year for me. So technically, it would be my second year of writing this story, and I never meant to make it this long. This really was going to just be a quick little multi-chapter I was going to finish before school. When did it get so damn long? It's not even on the main plot anymore. Has anyone else realised that I've been improvising all of these chapters?

But onto my explanation:

At the beginning of August, I left for a week to a survival camp. I was not able to update that Sunday to tell you guys I would be going, and stressed out about how I would be taking an entire week to update with no explanation. Well, on my last day of that week, I went down with strep. I've never been as ill as strep before - I've hardly ever even had a bad cold or flu. Therefore, my mother thought I was legitimately dying. Then the hospital had the great assumption to say I had mono. One of my biggest fears is having a disease I can't cure in my body - or something in my body at all that I can't get out. So I had a freak attack and was terrified out of my mind, since the virus that causes mono remains dormant forever in a person's body. Therefore, I was mentally and physically out of it, took the wrong medication, and my body stopped responding to medication, but I was finally better by the end of August. Then my brother decided it was a lovely time to get kicked out of rehabilitation and enter my life. I suffer a lot of fears and psychological quirks due to things with him in the past, and I was not able to go home for more than sleep for a week (and got kicked out many times because my parents did not want us in the same house, as well) before the court managed to drag him away for domestic violence, thank god. School started and I've been bombarded with board positions and clubs and lots of honours homework, coupled with a scholarship business going on. So my family decided it an ideal time to move. Now I'm managing school from not being in the right school district because I was somehow able to stay at the school I've been in, and am still moving in, as well as helping get our old home rented by someone else. I've still been taking the wrong medication and still out of it. To add on top of it, our financial situation got worse, and if I vanish for another long time period then I may or may not have cut off our internet.

And there you have it, my extreme ramble of what has happened in the past two months. Again, I am so insanely sorry, and feel terrible.

I also just desperately needed something light hearted so hopefully you guys won't complain at this oddly out of mood chapter.

Now, onto chapter stuff:

Thanksgiving is a celebration unique to North America, as I'm sure you all know by now. Only Canada and America celebrate it, as far as I am aware, and Canada celebrates it on a different day than America. America celebrates Thanksgiving at the end of November. It was originally created to honour good harvest, and there was something to do with the Native Americans during settlement times - also, I believe the Puritans made it last for three days in honour of their extremely strict and I believe to be horribly insane religion. To put what it feels like in the minds of our European friends reading this, Thanksgiving is like a big Christmas feast, but without the paper snowflakes, snow, white themed everything, Christmas carols, and pretty much replace all of that with warm colours like autumn leaves, turkey themed things, toddlers painting hand turkeys, and everything is in some shade of red and orange. Popular foods are turkeys and apples and pumpkins in any shape or form (dear freaking god, I can't wait until I get my pumpkin bread and pumpkin pie and apple pie, please, whatever holy power is up above, give me my pie).

Europe and the Americas still did not have good communication during this time, and keep in mind that many families have been living in the colonies for generations by now. Britain and the colonies don't know a lot of things about each other.

Also, can someone please help me with this horizontal page-split thing going on? For some reason, the horizontal line I've always used to split up sections in chapters vanished into thin air. Does anyone know how to get it back?

ON ANOTHER NOTE: I have so many PMs at the moment that I'm not going to be responding to the majority of them, especially if they're long. Don't get me wrong, I love long messages, but with all that's going on, I just can't make time for 42 many-pages-long-each messages. I've also decided to tone down the amount of history I'm putting into this thing, so unless the events can be explained to me simply, I'm going to be skipping over a lot of detailed historical events. It literally puts a pain in my heart, but at the moment the next few years of this story's time line is going to be completely blank area for me. I have no idea what happens in the next few years before the Boston Massacre - or, I do, but I probably forgot due to everything going on, and I have no time at all to research. Updates from now on will range from once a week to once a month. I apologise again and again!

I love you all for being so patient with me, and I hope to everything out there that you're all still with me. Thank you and see you in the reviews section!