Author's Note: Hi! This is my first story that I'm putting on ~ it may not be perfect yet, but I'm hoping to work out all the little spelling and grammar errors soon with the help of my co-author (known on here as "The Famous Firelady M"). I'm also trying hard to actually put some REASEARCH into this project. So, any comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated! I want to get better!

A quick note about the story dialog; since I have parts where China is speaking Chinese, along with some other children (Taiwan and Hong Kong), but since I don't know any Chinese, I but their dialog in brackets [] to indicate when they do.*

That's it for now! Hopefully I can get more of the story going soon~

-me

*Also: for those who know Chinese, I'm looking for someone to help me translate a few phrases. I know little to NO Chinese, and I know how irritating it can be to see someone mess up on your native language. So, if anyone is interested, send me a message~ I'd appreciate it.

Prologue : End of the First War

The day was the twenty-ninth of August, in the year 1842. The weather was calm, with few patches of clouds with the tempting look of rain occasionally drifted over the sun. A soft summer breeze blew through the open windows of the quiet room, bringing with it a small crisp scent of the approaching autumn.

Along with the fading odor of smoldering flames.

The room was crowded with people on every side, a small wooden table placed in the center. Men in bright red uniforms stood at every entrance at attention, surveying the conference before them. Many Chinese and English officials sat or stood around the space in the middle, circling around the table and the two men who were sitting at it.

One of the men, with messy locks of gold hair that fell over his face, was leaning forward against the table, his fingers pressed together as he watched the other closely. His uniform had only a few blemishes of burns and dirt, but otherwise entirely immaculate, each brass button still shining bright.

The other man, pale in complexion to the first, had long, straight, ebony hair that cascaded over his shoulders. The difference in clothing was also very apparent, for instead of the long, majestic robes of the Imperial Court that he once fashioned, he was only wearing a simple plain colored tunic. Battle wounds covered his body, white linen bandages concealing the more serious of the injuries, which wrapped around his hands, feet, legs, arms, and even around his head.

"Have you read all of the terms of the treaty?"

The Chinese man looked up from behind the piece of paper that he held in his hands, over to the man that sat across from him.

"Well, Yao?" the man repeated, raising a thick eyebrow at the other. "Do you or do you not find the conditions reasonable?"

Yao looked back down again. His fingers were curled around the edges of the treaty, threatening to tear apart the wretched manuscript that the other man had given him. He had read and reread over every article and order, and his face was knotted with displeasure.

"How…how can you expect me to sign this…?" Yao managed to speak through clenched teeth. "The whole thing is unbalanced… I see no benefit for me in here at all. You demand all this money, my ports, and surrender over…" His voice trailed off, and he jerked his head up. "I refuse!"

The man bent over in his seat, placing his hands together and resting his elbows on his lap, staring Yao in the face. "You appear to be missing the point, Yao. I was the one that won this little scuffle, therefore you are entirely at my mercy. Agree to the terms stated and I can assure you that nothing like this will happen again. If not…" the man paused, glancing over the small Asian man's numerous bandages and scars. "…You have already agreed to surrender. Let's not have any more casualties."

"You seem to be forgetting your place, Arthur." Yao's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm not just some weak country that you can invade and do whatever you please with. And I won't stand for the inequality that this treaty—a treaty that you came up with without my say in the contents— would require me to do."

Arthur frowned back at the other nation. "You won't sign then?"

"That would be impossible." Yao flung the treaty to the desk in front of him, resisting the urge to tear it up at once like his pride would have wanted. Arthur stared at the rejected manuscript in front of him, then tilted back in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh. "I hoped that this would have gone a lot smoother for us, but it seems that you leave me no choice."

Before the Chinese nation could say anything, Arthur gave a signal to one of the soldiers stationed by the door. Moments later Yao turned to see that more men had entered the room, more weapons in their hands, and he frowned.

"You no longer have a say in the matter, Yao." The Englishman replied haughtily. "You're best benefit now would be to sign the treaty. If you do, then things will go quite smoothly."

Yao's head whipped around to glare at the man before him. "You have gone too far already before this." He growled. "What makes you think that I'd allow myself to be at the mercy of devils?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Devils?" He repeated the word with a tone of amusement. "You flatter me yet again."

"I promise you that was not my intent." Yao replied callously.

Arthur sat up in his seat, gazing at the rejected treaty for a moment as he mused over his thoughts. Then when he looked up again his voice was lower, almost aggressive. "You will sign this treaty, Yao. I won't leave here until I have your signature." He glanced at the men behind them. "And I will achieve that by whatever means necessary."

Yao pursed his lips together until they resembled a thin line. His resentment and humiliation were reaching his boiling point, and he knew he had no choice but to accept defeat. Yet the very thought of surrendering to Arthur beset him. No matter how much he was threatened, he refused to cooperate.

The British nation narrowed his eyes. "I'll forge your signature if I have to, Yao." He sat up, placing his hands on the table and leaning towards the Chinese nation until their faces were just about touching. "I'm giving you one last chance; sign the damn treaty!"

Yao looked back up into the emerald eyes that pierced through him, unmoving and his jaw set firm. "I refuse." He said simply. "I have neither the amounts that you request of me, nor do I have any desire to allow you to use my ports...or any of my children." He added the last phrase with a tone of spite.

Arthur's glare continued, irritation continuing to build up inside him. And yet as he continued to look into the Asian man's face, he felt his gaze wander over certain features of his body. The smooth, pale, flawless skin, scared as it was by the marks of battle, the gentle curve of his neck, the smooth as silk ebony hair that fell delicately over slender shoulders…

"I understand how you may feel about all this, considering how much you have suffered. Not only from me, but from yourself as well." He murmured, and as he spoke he leaned his head back a little, looking him over more carefully, a hand reaching up to catch a few loose strands of hair. "…But I'll be willing to make a deal with you."

Yao looked up, his face masking the uncomfortable feeling that at having Arthur being so close to him. Arthur rubbed the strands between his fingers, his gaze shifting from them to the Chinese nation's face. "If you wish to come with a compromise, have a room prepared for me tonight. Perhaps we can procure a better resolution in a more… private setting."

One of his fingers came and traced the smaller man's jaw, resting underneath his chin as he lifted up Yao's face to his. "On the other hand, if you refuse to pleasure me, then you really have no other alternative." As if to add an extra meaning to his words, he brought his lips close to Yao's, speaking directly against him. "Or you can give me your answer now, if you don't mind having an audience…"

Smack!

Several guards came to restrain Yao as Arthur staggered back, placing a hand over his face. The other Chinese officials watched, aghast, both at Arthur's carnal implication to the horrible rudeness that Yao had displayed. Yet the Chinese man glowered at Arthur with a look of repulsion, his pale face glowing a deep red from embarrassment and vehemence.

"[Do not touch me, pig!]" Yao spat, rage coursing through him so strongly that he without thinking spoke in his native language. Arthur stared at him, a blank expression on his face from the shock of the strike, and his hand rested over a gradually growing red mark. One of his own men came up to him asking if he was all right, and once Arthur composed himself he waved the man away. He continues to watch Yao as he struggles against his captures, golden fiery eyes glaring intently into his.

Then suddenly he smiled, letting out a light laugh.

"I see that you're as obstinate and proud as ever." He said, stepping back up to him. "Too much even to accept any sympathy from me. So be it. Just know that I don't make the same offer twice, Yao…"

The document was once again handed over to Yao. As he glanced over the Chinese and English writing down to bottom, he saw once again that all of the official signatures were already signed. All that was really needed was his, to make it official. Again a pen was placed before him. Yao glanced from the pen to the treaty, and to the man who composed it.

There was a long period of silence. Finally, a very slow and shaking hand picked up the pen. There was a collection of sighs from the spectators around them as Yao began to write the first character for his name, staring impassively at the paper. One brush stroke followed another, until his name was clearly legible, the black ink forever staining the white.

王耀

Wang Yao

"Excellent." Arthur took the treaty as soon as the brush left the paper, looking it over. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Yao said nothing. His appearance was blank and empty with defeat. Arthur looked up again, then shook his head. "Now, there's no need for that." As soon as the ink dried Arthur rolled up the paper. "You are doing the right thing." Again, no response from the other man. In fact, all the Asian nation could do at that moment was stare down at his feet in surrender.

Arthur narrowed his eyes for a moment, wondering what had happened to all the fighting spirit that Yao had earlier. But then he cleared the thought from his mind hastily, looking over to the different side of the room.

A young boy, perhaps only ten years old, was standing quietly with two English officers on either side of him. He was watching Yao with wide, deep brown eyes, which were wet with tears as he witnessed the signing. Yet as soon as Arthur looked at him, the boy turned his gaze at the Englishman, and his expression showed only fear as he quivered in the other men's arms.

"Take that," Arthur motioned to the boy with a wave of his hand, "along with a partial sum of the money we are allocated back to the ship. We report back to London immediately."

No sooner were the words spoken that Yao looked up at the boy, the ancient man's face mimicking the youth's fearful expression. The boy cried out to him, the officers catching him small arms before he could run to his master with tearful pleas.

"[Big brother!] the boy screamed."[Big brother! Help me!]" He may not have understood the words that Arthur had spoken, but he knew the meaning. Yao felt his throat tighten, all at once ready to rush to the pleading child, but he too was stopped by strong hands. Arthur pulled Yao close so that his lips just barely brush past the Oriental man's ear, his voice almost a hiss of a whisper.

"It has to be this way, Yao." He said. Then he walked back to where the boy stood, and again the big water filled eyes craned up to see him. "Besides. It's not as if I'm going to keep him forever." Arthur added. "After about a hundred years or so, you can have him back. And since we're nations, we don't age much." He then looked back at Yao, who stood there unmoving like a powerless animal at the mercy of its hunter.

Arthur moved toward him, taking advantage of Yao's stillness to once again trace a finger down the side of his cheek. This time because he was restrained, he didn't slap at him, but only closed his eyes, his head turned to the side almost in shame.

"This could have been avoided, Yao." Arthur spoke softly, his tone turning almost tender as his fingers lingers a little longer on Yao's face. Then very quickly he removed his hand, stepping back from him. "But business is business."

By this time the boy was struggling to get away from his captors, all the while crying out for his protector. "[Big brother! Big brother, please!]"

Every plea tore at Yao's heart, causing his chest to ache, yet he didn't dare to move. Instead, he turned his head away from the sound, trying the best he could to shut it out. When the boy saw this, his expression dropped with despair, but his voice came out louder, almost sinking to his knees as he refused to be taken away.

Arthur watched the scene in front of him, and he couldn't help but feel the smallest sense of pity at what was happening, but a tap on his shoulder called him to more important matters. He along with the other officials from both countries had to organize how to get the money owed onto the cargo ships without any mistakes. Giving a small nod, he turned to one of the stronger looking officers and muttered an order. "Quiet him." He said, gesturing to the boy, now on the floor, his screams turning into sobs. "Once he's on deck have him closely watched. Use whatever authority necessary to keep him under control."

The officer nodded understandingly, then walked over to aid the other two gentlemen who were now in the process of dragging the child out of the room, his cries vanishing with him. Yao's body literally trembled, swaying as he threatened to fall over. A servant girl quickly moved to his side, her bound feet causing her to sway as she toddled over and placed her hands on her nation's shoulders. Arthur and the small group of negotiators finished their discussion soon after, and he stood up, taking his coat and hat from the side of the table, and walked towards the door. More children had gathered out in the hallway, and as soon as they heard Arthur approaching they quickly scattered, except one small girl, who looked up at the blond man's face with childlike ambiguity.

"[Where is my brother?]"

Arthur stares blankly at her, not knowing what was asked. The little girl continued to star at him for a moment longer, then realizing that he would not answer her she looked into the room where Yao was, who had seated himself in a chair and had his head bowed. Soon a boy came up to her, taking her hand and whispering something quickly in her ear while giving sideways glances at Arthur, and the two quickly left the room. Arthur watched them go, then as soon as they disappeared he moved to the opposite direction, quickly joined by the rest of his men as they made their way to the docks, where their ships will be waiting for them.

Xiang's cries kept on echoing until his voice died away, silenced harshly by the strong arms of the foreigners that were carrying him. Tears streamed down his face, his feet all but dragging in the ground. Why had no one come to help him? Didn't they hear him screaming? Of course they had. How couldn't they? They saw him being carried away. Why didn't they do anything?

But Xiang knew the answer. No one would be able to help him. Because they weren't allowed to help him.

Slowly he was led to the docks, where the tall black ships waited to take him away. As he looked around Xiang saw all the places that he had played with his brothers and sisters when they were children. Quickly he looked away towards the ground, not wanting the memories to relive themselves as tears again. He watched as the ground below him changed from dirt, to paved cobblestones, to the wood of the gangplank leading to the deck.

As soon as they were on board, Xiang was taken to one of the larger cabins, and tossed unceremoniously into it. The door then shut, and there was the sound of jingling keys as it was firmly locked. He was alone.

Xiang looked around the dimly lit cabin. A small bed occupied one of the corners, and on the other side near where he was standing was a desk, some paper, and a lamp. He could feel the groaning and movement of the ship underneath him as it idled in the waves. Feeling sick to his stomach, he sat down quickly on the bed, his arms wrapped around his middle. Bending over to fight the overcoming nausea, he tried once again not to let his mind drift to his now impossibly lost home.

But it's not lost, his mind tried to remind him. It's right outside. You can go back now. It's not too late…

Xiang shook his head. No. He can't go back. If he did they would only bring him back here again. Slowly he brought his knees up to his chest, hugging them close and hiding his face. He was supposed to be brave now. He had to be. But there, in the dark, where no one could see or comfort him in the time of his weakness, he wept.

Just wait until someone opens the door. You can fight them. Run as fast as you can and then hide so they can't catch you again…

Again Xiang tried to shake away these thoughts, for they only made his eyes burn with more tears. Many different faces came into his mind. He thought of Wan, his sister, if not his twin. He thought of her bright smile and long, brown hair. He thought of the pink dress that Yao made for her, and how happy she looked when she spun around in it. Then he thought of his other siblings, of Yong Soo, who always teased him and caused fun trouble around their house. There was quiet Kiku, very serious and reserved, and who Yao always admired. He thought of all the other children that shared his room. And then last of all, he thought of Yao. His Big Brother. The one that should have protected him…

Shutting his eyes tight, he couldn't stop the onslaught of memories from coming to him. He remembered when he was younger and Yao would let him sit on his lap, looking up into the night sky, and fashioning stories from the pictures that they created. The days when he would have gotten hurt from a day of play, and how even though he had nothing to treat it with, Yao would always tell him to be strong, because he would need to be strong to take care of his sisters and brothers. He thought of his hardness. His kindness. His stern words. His smile. How he always thought that he would never abandon him, that his Big Brother was the strongest in the world…

And yet…that day…and the days that preceded it… he saw just how weak and helpless his Big Brother was.

An hour or so passed before anything else happened. Xiang had finished most of his crying by then, his sobs exhausting him for a moment before thoughts of his family would make him start up again, his voice high with hiccups as he tried to hold them back. If his Big Brother wasn't able to rescue him from being taken away, then no one really could.

There really was no use crying over it. And yet he couldn't stop.