An ancient nation sat in his parlor, his slender form nestled deeply into a dark Chesterfield, a steaming cup of Earl grey at his side being ignored. His clover eyes stared out blankly, looking at nothing in particular. He was reminiscing about things long lost, looking at memories like they were precious rare gems, studying their sparkle, their fire, their flaws of which there were many….so many.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO
On the cloud of unknowing
My world seems open
Every satellite up here is watching
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOO

Many, many years ago, Arthur remembered hearing an old joke in passing.

"Buy land, they're not making it anymore."

He had laughed himself silly over it in private. It was too perfect not too really. Land…that had….has always been the issue, hadn't it…so many wars….so many lies….so much death over it…

When he had heard of the New World like all the rest of the nation, Arthur longed for it.

Land meant power. It meant wealth. It meant security.

Every nation sought these things. He who has the most toys wins if you will….

Tino had told them about the boy, sending Francis and himself practically into a frenzy to claim the new nation first. Arthur wanted it so much, the need to claim it all, make it his.

As the boat touched down on a pebbly shore, he had disembarked on a land as rich in color as his own, it vivid shades of green and watercolor bright with wild flowers. Francis had come along as well, the pair followed by Tino who still cried over his loss, the useless ponce.

After some searching, a golden head appeared out of the underbrush. The nations stood off to the side watching the little one for a moment as he talked in the language of his land to trees and flowers. He was tiny and perfect, clad only in a long white dressing gown, the collar of which was bordered with a bright crimson ribbon, his bare dirty little toes curling into the dirt. His hair was a shade of sun drenched sparkling honey, the strands wild especially a long bit in the front that practically stood up on end. He continued to babble happily to his flora, unaware of the older nations studying him intently. Arthur fairly jumped at the opportunity.

"He looks like me! I told you he was family!", Arthur yelled, pointing at the smaller nation who stared back at him curiously, but lost interest as a colorful butterfly decided to dance in some stray sunlight.

"He is obviously mine. Look at his hair.", Francis retorted back immediately, flipping his own silky mane over his shoulder.

"The hell he is! Are you already drunk, frog?! It is blatantly obvious that he is mine!", Arthur smirked, already drawing closer to the oblivious young one.

"Don't you think he looks like me?", Tino spoke up, a note of hope in his voice. He was quickly shot down by the pair and sent running back to the boat crying.

Arthur and Francis stomped up to the child who sat in a patch of soft clover, playing with shafts of sunlight, trying to grab at them with chubby fingers. He looked up at them with wide sky blue eye, clear and innocent. Arthur glared back at him, un-quavered by the angelic visage that studied him back openly. Arthur was here for him so there was no room for feelings in this matter. A quick subtle glance over at Francis confirmed that he was thinking the very same thing, the Frenchman's sapphire eyes hard and cold.

The tiny nation gasped in fear at their hungry faces, sensing danger of some sort. He jumped up in a flash, running off immediately. As fast as the older nations were, the babe was faster, running deep into the heart of his forest to lost easily to his pursuers.

And so the game began…..

Arthur and Francis established settlements there, waiting for their chance when the other finally decided to emerge again. They chased him, hounded him, hunted him tirelessly in seemed. The blond being would always escape in the end though, like wisps of fog in shadows of valleys and into dark corners of the forest.

"This is not working.", Arthur sighed, sitting down in exhaustion by a small stream. He splashed some of the cool clear water onto his sweaty face, before leaning back comfortably into the embrace of a giant oak tree. He could track an animal for leagues with the barest of signs but this child was like a spirit, seeming to disappear at will. The Englishman groaned loudly in his frustration, tossing bit of sticks into the flowing water before him. As he watched the pieces of wood be carried off, Arthur took a moment to look around him and actually see the forest for its trees. This land was beautiful, full of life, brimming with the beat of power that thrummed noiselessly through the elements. Though he could not catch the full meter of it, Arthur started to sing along to it anyway in an old tongue of his own land. His voice was soft but clear, melodic and flowing sweet.

A tiny noise off to his side made Arthur crack his eyes open, expecting to see a squirrel. He almost stopped singing entirely in his surprise. The little evasive one was quite near him, literally within arm's reach, peaking out from under a bush. Arthur acted like he hadn't seen him, making himself relax back into the tree.

Through slit eyelids, Arthur tracked the tiny one as he crawled toward him, entranced it seemed by his voice and language. Arthur considered his options quickly, coming up with multiple forms of definite capture. Everything stopped though in shock when a small hand touched his knee hesitantly. Arthur's eyes shot open to see the child sitting right next to him, wide eyed and totally unguarded. Arthur made himself stay still in his silence as cold emerald met soft azure.

The little one looked up at him expectantly, tilting his head to the side in obvious query. Arthur took it as a prompt to keep singing, quickly choosing a song.

"Let never a man a wooing wend that lacketh things three,. A store of gold, and open heart, and full of charity; And this was seen of King Henry though he lay quite alone, For he's taken him to a haunted hall seven miles from the town.", Arthur sang, picking a long song of a winding tale to buy himself some time. His fingers itched to snatch the other up and claim him, so that he could taunt Francis with him by dinner…..

…..But it had been so long since he had sang in front of anyone(besides his fairy friends of course) or had anyone actually want him to sing to them. Arthur choked on his words in realization, halting the song abruptly. The older nation started to curl up into himself, mentally and physically as the little one blinked in confusion up at him. Arthur grew red in embarrassment, waiting for the other to start mocking or ridiculing him like so many others had done so before in the past. Wales had always been the bard of the brothers, backed by Scotland, a notable wordsmith himself. Francis had also tormented the English nation about his singing to the point where he almost never bothered with it anymore.

A tense moment held, broken when the babe climbed awkwardly up into Arthur's lap, partly up his chest to stare at his mouth. Tiny baby fingers, soft and clumsy, drew upward tentatively toward him to touch wind burned sculpted lips, parting them. Arthur jerked his head back, tasting dirt off of invading fingertips.

"Do you mind!? How unbelievably rude! What in the hell do you think you are doing?!", Arthur snapped, spitting the taste of soil out. The child continued to look up in confusion at him though.

"The pretty sounds. Where did they go?", the petite being uttered in a high bell like voice, pure and clear as spring. Arthur stared back at him, his gaze matched calmly.

"It is called a song. I can finish it if you would like.", Arthur found himself saying, a little shyly. The small nation sat back down in his lap as if it was the most natural place in the world for him, clearly waiting for Arthur to begin again, looking up at him with an impatient expectant look.

That is how Francis found them later that the day, following the sound of Arthur's voice. The scene before him was an odd one. Arthur sat smiling down at the tiny nation they had been hunting for months now, the fair being in his very lap half dozing, half swaying to the songs that fell freely from Arthur's lips. Francis had forgotten that the Arthur could look that peaceful and happy. The Englishman's usual scornful expression was lost to softer, more delicate emotions as a connection was being made between the two. Arthur leaned forward so that their forehead touched every so slightly, the babe opening his eyes tiredly to focus on vibrant forest green ones. The child raised his hands in response to lightly touch pale cheeks, smiling back dreamily.

This would never do of course….

"La! I see you have finally caught him!", Francis yelled overly loud, causing the two to jump, the smaller one taking immediate action of fright and flight.

Arthur swore bitterly in long fluid streams of random curses as he watched the golden head disappear yet again into the forest's deep. Francis felt a small victory despite the loss. He could care less if the babe got away today, just as long as he was not with Arthur. Francis ran away laughing, as he skillfully dodged the Englishman's projectile, both verbal and physical.

Still grumbling, Arthur started his way through the wood, cursing the existence of the French in general, all the while though missing the light weight that had been upon him. He felt something inside of him that he usually only associated with being in the company of his fairy friends. It was a warmth that filled him with a deep longing. Arthur clutched at his chest almost painfully, not understanding it as he tried not to think about clear eyes, the color of endless skies on a cloudless day.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO
But I was here from the very start
Trying to find a way to your heart
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO

They sat in the sun drenched field full of multicolored wild flowers of Trillium, Bloodroot, Geranium, and Yellow Goats beard.

Upon their arrival, Alfred ran off immediately of course, zigzagging aimlessly about it seemed as Arthur unpacked the basket with measured care, setting aside the food and drink to unfold a large blanket. He spread out the covering on a patch of shorter grass. Matthew helped him the best that he could, hanging onto a corner one handed, the other occupied by his forgetful bear companion. When their task was accomplished(will no help whatsoever from Alfred who was currently imitating bees for some reason or another), the Canadian immediately sat down upon it to hug his bear tightly, cuddling up with Arthur as the nation joined him, pulling out a book of sonnets to read. He glanced over a few minutes later and confirmed that the little Canadian nation had fallen asleep.

Alfred soon returned with garlands of flowers which he put upon Arthur's and Matthew's head, almost reverently. His air of odd formality caused the older nation to chuckle, as his crown of wild flowers settled on messy golden locks. Matthew woke up long enough to adjust his crown sleepily, losing interest a moment later to slumber. Arthur pulled the little ones into his lap. Matthew claimed his legs and lower waist while Alfred climbed up to wrap his short arms around his slender neck. Arthur laid back to be more comfortable, his torso claimed immediately by a familiar squirming weight.

"What is this?", Arthur said softly, not wishing to wake the other one.

"It's your crowns.", Alfred smiled, playing with the collar of Arthur's shirt, studying the fine details of the buttons on it.

"They are lovely. Where is yours though?", Arthur asked, pushing back strands of golden hair as azure blue met forest green.

"I don't get one.", Alfred said with a small frown. Arthur tilted his head in mild confusion.

"Why not?", he asked, puzzled as the little nation sat up on his chest awkwardly to point up at the sky.

"Because I'm the hero and I have to protect you!", Alfred declared, his expression ridiculously vibrant yet sincere.

"So I'm a princess then?", Arthur said somewhat dryly. Alfred thought about it seriously for a moment, sitting back on his little butt in deep thought, his contemplation tangible.

"You're my princess.", Alfred decided, nodding sincerely.

"Humph….hardly. First off, I am not a girl. Secondly, I am your caretaker not some helpless half-wit in need of fetching.", Arthur stated, rolling his eyes while making a mental note not to read any more fairy tales so soon before bedtime. Alfred was starting to get some strange notions and habits from them.

"Last of all, you are hardly in any position to be making such lofty promises.", Arthur yawned, leaning up on his forearms to view his now pensive colony. Alfred was quiet for a long moment, staring off into the distance.

"America? Are you alright?", Arthur asked worriedly, chiding himself about perhaps being too harsh. He was struck speechless by the intense look that met his own gaze levelly for one so young.

"Then I will just have to become stronger and bigger to protect you.", Alfred whispered, his words sounding oddly more like a promise that a statement. Arthur felt strange emotions swirl in him, one of them being noticeable fear trailing icy tendrils across his heart. Pure dread of him losing his precious innocent, but even worse…..a fear of him succeeding. Alfred….America was young and still growing. If he survived adolescence, he could possibly become really anything. Arthur could lose him or be left behind by him in the process. He wasn't sure which scenario was worse really.

Arthur laughed shakily even as he felt the blood drain out of his face and his extremities under the weight of that steady gaze.

"Ha-heh….out of the mouth of babes…that is unnecessary, pet.", Arthur said, sitting up to wrap his arms around the smaller nation, holding him close. He couldn't bear to look into those fathomless eyes anymore. Arthur pulled back far enough to see Alfred smiling widely up at him, back to normal instantly, so much so that Arthur started to wonder if the little one had even known what he had been actually saying. Arthur wondered if he was just being silly looking for deeper meaning in the words of a child. Alfred was a sweet boy, but not the brightest star in the sky.

Arthur cuddled with his colony, firmly banishing any further thoughts on the matter as he curled up protectively around the twins. The trio fell into a deep sleep under a blanket of warm sunlight and dancing butterflies.

Arthur dreamed of fairies and his woods, so lovely, dark and deep.

Matthew dreamed of snow, visions of soft white filled his mind.

Alfred dreamed of stars…..and of so much more…his thoughts as endless and deep as space itself as he reached for something bright…

Alfred dreamed of the future.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOO
On the cloud of unknowing
My world seems open
Every satellite up here is watching
But I was here from the very start
Trying to find a way to your heart

AN-Yes, England is going to be the seme in this arch, I have very firmly decided, but I am also planning on some odd quirks for America as well.

btw I do not own 'The Cloud of Unknowing' done by the Gorillaz.

Time to learn something-
'Buy land. They have stop making it' is a quote by Mark Twain, whom I adore. Seriously the man said some of the most brilliant things ever. Google his quotes and better yourself for it.

I referenced Wales and Scotland cause Wales is known as 'the Land of Bards' and Scotland is famed for its poets as well. I figure that is something they could hang over England's head until he bitch slapped them back with a thick volume of Shakespeare.

'King Henry' is actually an old, old English song that has seen new life due to SteeleyeSpan, a band who specializes in modernizing ancient English folk songs with modern flair. 'Gaudete' is a particularly beautiful example of this