A/N: I do hope this isn't too overused; I at least tried to portray it in a unique way, so let me know how I have done! I've been in the mood to write something featuring Lil!America and Aniki!England, and this was the result. This is also my first time writing anything non-romantic for USUK, as well as my first time writing anything with some historically-accurate points.

And, just a little heads-up, I tried to stay away from contractions in dialogue this time, since this takes place in the late 1500's. I realize that contractions were spoken, in a sense, but I would like to make this as authentic as possible.

Enjoy and critique!

"B-But…" whined a soft voice, barely audible as its words jumbled together into the silk of another's clothing. A small child, lithe and petite to an incredulous degree, stood in tears as he nestled further into an older male's pants leg. The child's caramel hair matted itself against his scalp, the result of a lack of proper sanitization, as the gentle stroke of the other's hand rhythmically ran through it, fingers soothingly untangling the greasy knots of gold. Removing his face from the leg for a split second, the child stole a questioning glance up at the towering nation above him, though his little hands still clung to the cloth for dear life. His pale cheeks were caked with mud, which had hardened into dirt previously until the youth had begun to cry, and his curious sapphire irises were coupled with a border of faded crimson rather than their normal white. Fleshy pink lips trembling, he tugged with all of his might (which was surprisingly strong, for a child of his age) and caught the gaze of the older nation, a pleading gleam in his eyes. "But, England! Why do you have to go? You just came-" His voice hitched as a hiccup rebounded upwards, rattling his entire body with the jolt. "You only stayed for a few days!"

England's eyes softened, fingers tenderly stroking his colony's face as he crouched down to his level. "I know, America, I know. You will be fine here; you have the colonists to keep you company. Surely I am not as much fun to be around as they are?" The boy, mildly unsure of how to respond to such a question, wiped his tear-brimmed eyes with the back of his arm and returned to his previous position, latched onto England's thigh. The Briton shook his head lightly, nudging the boy away from him once more and gently removing the hands clutching at his pant leg. "You must learn to get along with all of your people, as they represent everything that you are. To reject them is to reject yourself as a whole. Take the time to get to know some of your colonists- to know them as well, if not more, than you know yourself. I will be back, but you need to find somebody else to spend time with. Behave yourself, America. I will know if you are not, as we are connected; a glorious nation and his growing colony."

America sniffed once more, rubbing his dripping nose with his sleeve as he continually contemplated what his guardian had said, not that he had understood a single word of that gibberish. "Bye…"

"Good bye, America," England muttered, patting the child once more on the head before retreating to his ship, and the colony soon found himself standing in the field nearby the docks, utterly and irrefutably alone.

********

Children giggling in an obnoxious innocence, fathers scolding the youths as they cultivated their crops, mothers tending to their sewing and cooking… all of which were the sights America had become familiar with, in all of his days of absolute boredom without his guardian around to keep him company. Indeed, many times had he witnessed adolescents and newborns, either playing or griping about in the peaceful inner workings of their abodes. Alas, the young colony had spent the majority of his time lying under a tree in a field not far beyond his own house, or perhaps wasted hours just meandering around aimlessly, lest he wished to lose all sanity to the possessive creature that is monotony.

Time and time again had he found himself twiddling his thumbs beneath the shade of a particular tree; a vast oak tree, limbs spreading far beyond those of any tree the colony had ever witnessed. Said plant was of North Carolina- a measly settlement at the time, though still one of America's favorites, when subjects pertained to spending time alone. On this specific day, the young child had brought along with him an assortment of toys and play items; pebbles, sticks, and a frog he had found hopping along a bog somewhere south of his current location. All in all, these were toys of great value, for children of that day and age, as most youths were much too busy with farm work and chores and whatnot. Sighing in boredom, America picked up the frog, who was rather frantically trying to wriggle free of the child's astonishingly-strong grasp, and placed it in a circle of pebbles, prodding at its side with an innocent smile of curiosity plastered on his face- a smile which had had yet to appear since the day of England's departure. He picked up one of his twigs and began leaning them all up against one another, building a slight fortification around the frog around the circlet of stones, and proceeded to probe the amphibian with mild interest.

"H-Hey!" stuttered a shaky voice from behind America. He whirled around, and, in his startled surprise, knocked over the fort, freeing the frog that began to hop frantically away. America narrowed his eyes, frowning as his lips quivered and hot tears threatened to fall. Before him stood another child, perhaps a year younger than himself- though clearly not a nation, nor a colony. The child was male, unmistakably, and stared worriedly back with shimmering hazel eyes, a branch held out shakily in self-defense. When he spoke once more, his voice continued to tremble, his stick still raised high in unease. "You had better get off of our land! W-We do not take well to Spaniards! I-"

"I am not from Spain! My name is-" Er, perhaps it was best to refrain from using his colony name, considering he had only just met this stranger. "My name is Alfred. What is your name? Are you Spanish?" He held out a hand, smiling in a welcoming fashion.

The other boy rejected the hand, though did lower his defenses and throw the stick to the ground. "My name is Thomas… And of course I am not a Spaniard! My parents were born in England. We live on Roanoke Island, and you came unto our land!" He giggled gently, swiping his lengthy brown hair from his eyes. "What are you playing?"

"I… well, nothing anymore, I guess. My frog is gone, after all…" America mumbled, saddened mildly by the mentioning of England. "Do you want to play something?"

"Sorry, I have too much to do on the farm. It takes a lot of hard work, so even the kids have to do some! Where do you live, anyway?"

America coughed into his fist, averting his eyes for a moment. "U-Um… Just a few fields away from here, actually. My family does not own a farm, and…"

"Oh, I see. You can come help out at the farm if you want. I do not think father will mind too much…" Thomas yawned rather obnoxiously, stretching his arms high above his head. "I should get going; I need to help plow the fields today. I hope I see you again soon!"

"Y-Yeah… me too!" America replied, a genuine smile gracing his lips as the boy took off in the opposite direction. "Bye, Thomas!"

"Bye, Alfred!" he shouted over his shoulder and continued to stride away until his lithe form was beyond the sight of the American colony.

********

Days passed. Weeks passed. And all the while, America continued to mingle with the Roanoke colonists. His bond with the children, as well as a few of the adults, deepened to the point of a pure friendship with the majority, as well as acquaintanceship with the remainder. Perhaps England had been right all along; perhaps it was best for him to make close companions of his colonists. After all, they had all been unbelievably kind to him, more so than England had been, at times, and after the first month, it became increasingly difficult to imagine life without his beloved Roanoke colonists. They were, as it was, one of the first colonies to settle in that area.

A month-and-a-half had passed since England's previous departure, not that America had noticed all that much. He had awoken particularly early that morning, willing himself to collect enough pebbles and whatnot for his playtime with the children of the settlement. The young colony grinned from ear to ear at the thought, sending a thrill of anticipation through his petite body as he proceeded out the door and into the dim glow of the dawn sunlight. This day would surely outdo others in the aspect of entertainment!

He continued to stride across the field, inhaling the sweet scents of flowers, just beginning to bloom beyond their budding forms. That would be him one day, he was sure of it; though he remained but a mere bud at that moment, he could feel the tickly feeling in his palpitating heart that he would bloom to become something great… maybe even enough to outshine his British predecessor! No, he told himself calmly, bouncing merrily up the hill that overlooked Roanoke Island. Nobody can outshine England. But I can sure try! I will try really hard, someday! He will see me become a great colony, the best the world has ever known!

His azure gaze fell upon the island below, and the collection of pebbles and whatnot in his palm plummeted to the ground. Heart throbbing in concern, America darted forward, neglecting his stones upon the earth below to scamper off in the direction of the colony he had grown so dearly fond of. The deathly silence was, perhaps, the first omen to the colony that his familiar was nowhere to be found. He grimaced, a failed attempt to smile, then drove himself into a state of denial-induced panic. America sprinted forward, advancing upon the heart of the Roanoke colony, desperate to find just one of his beloved colonists to converse with.

But, alas, as he came upon the final house, he found each residency to be absolutely barren, a sheer sign that the Roanoke colonists were gone.

America's breath emitted from his lungs in trembling gasps, head spinning from the enthrallment of his distressed scurrying. Knees buckling beneath him, the little child collapsed to the ground, body racking with shaky sobs. It hurt, the agony that swelled so large within his heart, though America, being so young and innocently naïve, had failed to entirely comprehend what had occurred in the recent hours. Perhaps they had gone off in a ship back to England- or maybe the settlers had migrated northward! Of course, he knew deep within that Thomas or one of the other children would have likely told him, had they known of any intentional journey, but logic was quite possibly the farthest thing from his mind at the time. Frantic and frenzied, America wiped the blurring tears from his eyes and dashed out into the woods, gazing every which way for any inkling of their olden presence, but to no avail. He knew not how far he had traveled; none of that mattered, as the only thing on his mind was tracking down his companions that had been held so dearly to his heart, which had begun pulsating even rapidly.

He continued in hot pursuit, though of what he knew not, as his legs began to shake and tremble from the fervor of his panicky hurrying. His tiny chest heaved, limbs aching as he finally forced himself to rest. "Thomas? John? Mr. Henry, sir? Where is everybody?" His voice began to trail off, eyelids drooping in exhaustion. "Hello…?" he muttered, vision fading to black as a heavy sweat poured down his forehead, and the surrounding atmosphere slowly grew into an icy chill.

Had the world really become so cold? Such thoughts, though simplified into the knowledge of a child, continued to gallop through his subliminal mind as consciousness slipped from his fingers.

********

For the longest time, he could perceive no sounds other than the rapid beating of his own heart; however, as his somewhat conscious mind slowly returned to him, America could hear an identical sound, much too similar to his own in irregular pounding. One eyelid after the other peered open, and a sudden warmth surrounded his diminutive body in a comforting embrace. The young colony blinked once, twice, as his eyes focused into the living world, and he saw, above his head, the familiar ceiling of his own residency. His oceanic gaze drifted sidelong whilst he twisted his heavy-as-lead head around in perplexity; for, lying beside his charge with an arm draped lazily over the child's limber frame, rested England, eyes shut in a relaxed contention- not a deep slumber, but a blissful peace of the mind. Nation and colony laid parallel in America's bed, which had always been much too large for the child for reasons such as these.

America coughed into his fist, a rattling sound erupting form his chest as he sputtered greenish phlegm from his lungs and into his palm, which he promptly wiped into a tissue on the table at the bedside. Such a noise awoke the Briton beside him, a pair of anxious emerald eyes meeting his own. England, clearly startled, rose much too quickly from his spot on the bed and clutched onto his colony's arms in a gentle-yet-forceful grasp, eyes franticly searching the child's face for something. "Y-You are awake! Oh, thank the Lord… America, what did you think you were doing, going out into the woods alone? You could have…" Well, technically, America couldn't have perished from just hanging about in the woods, so he reworded things and held the child closer to his body in a tight embrace. "You could have gotten seriously injured out there! What on earth did you think you were doing?"

"They…" America snuggled into the warm embrace, sniffling as a sickly bead of snot dripped from his nose and smear across his guardian's clothing. England sighed, though he refused to allow his filthy clothing interfere with his brotherly consoling. The child coughed once more before continuing on, words jumbling together in a frenzy to free themselves from his mouth. "They were gone! John and Thomas and- Why were they gone? Where did they go? And why are you here? How-"

"Slow down, child. Well, I am not exactly certain about any of those points. I arrived here on a whim, out of the strangest feeling that something was the matter. And, as it seems, I was correct- I suppose we really are connected at the mind, somewhat. Now, I need you to listen to me very carefully, America." England's mouth tightened into a slight frown as he slid his fingers down from the boy's hair to grasp firmly at his shoulders. "I do not know where your colonists have gone. I will continue to be on the lookout for them, but I am afraid that an organized search party would be unreasonable. I am sorry, America, truly I am, but I must beg of you not to seek them out again."

"W-What? But England, they-!"

"Do not defy me, America," England muttered, sternly meeting his colony's tear-brimmed eyes, though the sight of America in such melancholy tugged at his heart and he softened a bit. Under normal circumstances, a guardian would have beaten the child for misbehaving, as well as running off unsupervised like a wild savage, but nothing could bring him to further dampen the little child's already-unstable spirits. "Oh, America, I know that it can be hard. Believe me, I have been through loss like this many times. But you have to let it go. You can still remember them, but you can't let it ruin your life. If you continue to mourn for them, you will only grow more and more sickly by the day. I do not want that to happen, and I should hope that you do not either."

America sniffled once more and nodded slowly, clinging to the snot-covered shirt of his guardian. "Okay… I promise…"

"Good, good." He bent over to press a soft kiss to the child's head and backed away from the bed, standing up and advancing a single step towards the door. However, as he attempted to take yet another step forward, miniature fingers latched tightly onto the back of his shirt, yanking lightly at the cotton. He turned his head, sighing with eyes mildly narrowed. "America…" he warned half-heartedly, raising a thick eyebrow in question.

"Don't leave!" the child wailed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. "Please stay here- at least for today!" And, as England gazed back, slightly dumbfounded, at America's trembling form, so weakened from his distress over his lost colonists, the Briton could not help but to smile tenderly and pat the child's head.

"Oh, I suppose I can manage that much."

And America smiled, if not more vivacious than ever before- a smile that would preserve itself well beyond the departure of England the next morning.

A/N: Well, there you have it. A non-romantic/fluffy one-shot featuring Lil!America and my sad attempt at Bro!England. Please review or critique, make a young lady happy!