Arthur sighed as he walked around his capital. Once again he had to deal with another world meeting. Suddenly, he stopped walking to look up at the sky. He was glad that everything turned out alright.

"Hey Iggy! Come on or I'll yell at you for being late," Alfred shouted, his cowlick bobbing up and down as he ran down the street.

"You don't have the right to yell at me Alfred. After all, you and China are often late to these meetings," he sighed as he rubbed forehead. Sometimes he wished the American would lose his overweening confidence. Sadly, he couldn't get everything he wanted, but watching the young man jump around alive was good enough for him.

It had been three years since the incident. Still, it was hard to adapt. The first few weeks were filled with nightmares of the loops, him being in a wheelchair didn't help the situation either. It took another three months to get out of that chair and physical therapy was hell. But Arthur managed to push forward and quickly relearned how to walk. Then—his brothers. Since Arthur was in charge of the whole United Kingdom, it was not common to see his brothers at the meetings. That's why as soon as the news reached them, they took the first flight over to check on him.

No matter how many times he told them that he was ok they didn't believe him.

Stupid older brothers.

Alfred and his brother...um his brother Matthew (or was it Marshall?) was also protective of him. Alfred had told his younger (or was it older) brother the story of how England had saved  him so the quiet nation was very thankful to him. Arthur remembered sitting on the bed, his face tomato red as Matthew gave him a three hour lecture of how thankful he was coupled with an apology for his brother's stupidity.

Other nations came to give him flowers and wishes.

England sighed. Whatever. The past was in the past. He shouldn't dwell on it.

Besides, England was the host today. He needed to let out a good vibe so the meeting would not blow up.

Literally.

"Iggy!" Alfred whined loudly causing the strangers on the street to turn around and look at him strangely.

"Shut up. I'm coming. I swear if my hair turns gray, it's going to be your fault," Arthur admonished, marching in the meeting room.

--

It's been three years.

Three years since Arthur and Alfred disappeared. The other nations held their funeral six months after the day they first went missing.

The United States of America and England never got another representative, which confused the older nations but they let that slide. Matthew now represented both his own country and his brother's. His dream of being recognized as a superpower had come true, yes, but the cost was too high for him to be happy.

He lost both America and England for his wish. Alistair replaced England, but the meetings were not the same.

There was no America standing on his chair announcing his heroism and no Englishman rolling his eyes as he told off the young nation to behave while fighting with France.

The world became a much duller place without America and England.

"Are you sure we're doing this right?" Vlad said, his eyes looking back and forth between his book and the magic circle on the ground. "How do we know if this all-knowing ghost will help us?"

"He better," Lukas replied, "or else all of our work will be for nothing."

The two began to chant words in a long dead language as mist began to rise up from the glowing magic circle, covering the air.

"What the hell? The book didn't say this was going to happen!" Romania screamed. "Did we do something wrong?"

"I don't think we did."

A blur began to take form in the mist. It was difficult to tell, but the two saw a cube spinning around. Inside of that cube they saw a young man sitting by the wall.

"America." Norway murmured in a low breath.

The two weren't certain that the figure in the cube was America, but they didn't know anyone else with that stupid piece of hair.

"He's trapped," Lukas stated,"There's no way to get him out."

"Does that mean he'll stay there forever?"

"Yes. After all it is his punishment."

-

"Feed me you jerk." The fairy screamed opening its mouth.

Alfred rolled his eyes as he shoved a spoonful of pudding into the fairy's mouth. "Here ya go, you piece of shit," he growled, allowing himself to have another spoonful. "I hate you."

"Hey," The fairy grinned. "I'm just doing my job."  

The end.