#hetalia.

"Alfred!"

The booming of Arthur's shout burst through the woods as he runs past the trees in much haste, causing a few birds to flock off and squirrels scurrying off in a startled fright. Out of breath, he stumbles to a halt, leaning his hand on the tree next to him. He looks around his surroundings as he panted for air.

There isn't a situation more nerve-wracking than this. His son had gone missing. He was supposed to be home, waiting for his father, but according to Alfred's nursemaid (who takes care of the boy while Arthur is absent and/or busy), she had made the mistake of giving in to his pleas of playing outside in the morning after she was told specifically to keep him inside the house. Although she kept an eye on him and made sure that he didn't go past the fence that bordered the house and out of her sight, it only took her a moment of distraction until she all of sudden caught the boy running outside the fence, chasing a young hare that ran towards the woods. Ever since then, he hasn't come back, and it is well past noon. She couldn't exactly go after him, or more like, she couldn't bring herself to go after him because she had an irrational fear of the woods, so she regretfully stayed behind. She had no choice but to wait for Arthur to return to tell him what had happened.

As angry as he was with the nursemaid, he's far too worried for his son to deal with her at the moment. All he cared about was finding Alfred and bring him home, so he immediately ran for the woods. In all honesty, he didn't think he'd have to go through this.

And yet here he is, looking for Alfred Harland, his most precious son­­. He's merely a boy of six years—physically, at least.

Yes, his son is a curious child, and adventurous, but that isn't something Arthur, as his parent, could control. It's in a child's nature to be curious and to explore, but having a child like that, anyone is guaranteed to go under all levels of stress and anxiety. It will suck the life out of you, even if you're a thriving empire such as England. He should have known that this could happen—he should have been more strict and more careful.

Continuing his search for the boy in much distress, Arthur travels further into the woods, shouting his name every few minutes in hopes for a response of any sort. No words could describe how painfully worried he is for Alfred. The amount of stress he's in right now is unimaginable. What if his son is in danger right at this moment? The Indians could ambush him, doing God knows what to him, or he could be hunted and mauled by hungry wolves! Anything could happen that would be out of Arthur's control if he were not there to protect him! Why can't his son understand? Why can't he listen for once? Does he want to be in danger? He's been told many times before not to go out into the woods or past the fences at all and he hasn't gone there - until now. The knots in his stomach are growing tighter every second England treads amongst the empty woods helplessly.

He wished he had a troop of men searching along with him, but he doesn't have time to go back and send for them, with all the possibilities on what could happen to Alfred are crawling in his head.

"ALFRED! Damn it all, where are you!" The frustration is growing stronger in Arthur's chest as he looks from left to right, straining his eyes to look as far as he could see. He's so close to being panic-driven. His heart is pounding faster than normal; his ears are throbbing and his breath is short. The anxiety is creeping and growing inside him, ever so slowly. If this takes any longer, then he just might be on the brink of losing it.

Oh, God, please let him be all right. I cannot lose him—not again—not like last time. His voice begged internally. I will not allow it. He's my son; he's all I have.

But this is already taking him to a very bad place in his memory—a memory he thought he had locked away, but it always manages to come back to him somehow. He can't go back to it now—not while he's searching for his son, but being in a situation like this, it's impossible not to think back on it. It's the one thing that grew his fear and made him more protective and possessive of Alfred. He only wished it was a nightmare, but it wasn't. It was one of the worst times of his life.

"Elliot!"

A hoarse and panicked shout came from Arthur as he paced around the seemingly abandoned settlement in the Roanoke Island. Three years, he has been kept from visiting his first colony, his only son, in the Americas—no thanks to Spain from the Spanish Armada and the Anglo-Spanish war. But that didn't stop him and his fellow men (John White, Walter Raleigh, and few others) from reaching their destination after they raided the Spanish in the Caribbean.

However, when they had arrived at the fort where the colonists had lived, they didn't exactly expect it to be empty. Everyone was gone. One hundred and seventeen colonists, including the children and Arthur's son, were nowhere to be found.

There were no signs of a struggle or violence at all. Everything is practically in order—almost, at least.  

This unsettled Arthur to no end. What happened? It's no mistake that this must have occurred when they were being held back by the Spanish, but how could this have happened is the big question. Were they threatened by anyone that resulted in them evacuating the fort and traveled somewhere else? But where would they have gone?  

So many questions (many of which John had asked aloud in confusion) were building up in his head the more he thought about it. But there's one thing he's mostly concerned about aside from the Colonists.

Elliot.

He's a fragile boy, barely even a child at two years old, physically—since he's still a young colony of only five years. He would get sick quite often from all the struggles the colonists had gone through the five years in the Island (as a personified nation/colony's state are mostly determined by their people, land, economy, and such). And now he's gone missing with the others. There is a chance that he's out there with the colonists. Arthur refuses to believe that he's gone for good—he won't allow such a thing to happen.

"Sirs," called out Walter in an uncertain tone, "come, have a look. There is a carving on the palisade."

When everyone (including the Privateers) gathered around to look in curiosity, Arthur hastily approached in hopes of seeing some clue that might lead to answers, or maybe they had carved the Maltese cross as instructed by White if they had been forced to evacuate... But a clue is what they got.

On the wooden post of the fence was a word etched on it: CROATOAN.

This only led to more questions than answers. Everyone stared at each other in confusion while muttering baffled questions, mostly to themselves or to few others. Arthur, his lips pursed, stared at White questioningly.

"Well? What do you suppose this means?" He asked urgently, "Croatoan. Is that not one of the islands near here?"

"Well, yes—" White started, but he was soon cut off by the English nation. "Then the natives who live there must have something to do with this, correct? There may have been no sign of any resistance or any of the sort, but something happened, and it's most likely the cause of them." Arthur was getting quite aggravated over this, the anger building up in his chest. He may be acting irrational, but rightfully so, from having lost his only child. However, Arthur's not the only one to have "lost" a family member of his—White's daughter and granddaughter are missing with the colonists as well and one can only imagine how terribly worried he is for them, just as much as Arthur is for his son.

Carefully inspecting the carving, John White looks back at the English nation in the eyes—he had an idea of what it means. "This could be a message. Perhaps they moved to Croatoan Island, for whatever the reason may be." Otherwise, what else could it mean?

Arthur frowned unsurely. "There is only one way of confirming that. We must go to the Island, see if they are settled there, or if it means anything at all."

And so, they had made to travel to the adjacent islands by ship, in great hopes of finding what they were looking for.

However, as time passed, many of the Privateers have noticed something growing. Large looming clouds were gathering together quickly—darkening to a deep grey that almost appeared black. It was coming rather fast, almost as if an invasion were coming upon them. The rumbling of the thunder could be heard from a far distance; the atmosphere becomes gloomy from the upcoming storm as the ship swayed back and forth in the sea.

This worried White immensely. A part of him was convinced that they might not be able to make it through this, but another is persisting to continue the search, no matter what happens.

Arthur had no sense of worry in his mind whatsoever, though. He cared only for the Lost Colony, his son, and nothing else, nothing more. He won't stop until he has his answers—if it meant the ship would go down in the process, then so be it, he doesn't care. It means nothing to him.

But, as the weather grew fouler and fouler by the hour, it has proven to be a greater challenge than any would have ever believed it to be.

The Captain of the ship stumbled as he approached both White and Harland in little to no hesitation and shouted over the roaring seas. "I am afraid we can't go on any longer with the search! The storm is growing stronger by the minute!"

White pursed his lips, staring at the Captain disappointingly. He thought long and hard about this and when he had finally given in to his internal arguments, he opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur took over.

"No! We will continue the search!" He exclaimed indignantly. The rain was pouring harder than ever; everyone was getting drenched from it and cold as the wind howled against the sails, but Arthur ignored it—he almost felt nothing, not a shiver was coming from him. "We can make it through just a little longer!"

This boosted White's stubborn side, so he took part with Arthur. "Yes! If anything, we will go to the nearest land, take shelter, and wait until the storm clears!"

"We cannot," bellowed the captain, still shouting over the storm, "We have already lost three anchors, we cannot and will not risk the loss of another!" He stops his shouting and proceeds to talk in a somewhat apologetic tone in consideration of what he's going to say next, though he still makes an attempt to sound clear. "I am afraid we will have to return to England. I give you my condolences."

"What?" Arthur said in bewilderment. "Go back? Are you mad? There are women and children out there, possibly in danger—my son is out there! For God's sake, I will not lose the colony, I will not allow it!" He argued furiously. "As your nation, I command you take us to the blasted Croatoan Island, or rest assured, I will have your head!"

The Captain gawked at Arthur incredulously. White himself was also taken aback by the English nation's behavior. All the men on the ship were watching from where they were standing in silence, while some walked by to hear more clearly, though they didn't get any closer to them.

Only the wind, waves, and the rain drowned the silence between the three men who stared at each other. After some consideration and hesitation, John White broke the voiceless silence, speaking in a loud tone, yet he did not shout.

"Very well. We will abandon the search and go back to England."

Arthur's head snapped towards White in disbelief. "What?" The cold he nearly felt went away. It was replaced by the rage growing in his chest, his ears pulsating and hot as he glared at the man. "What about your family, then!" He spat spitefully, "You are willing to leave them behind when they could be out there, possibly in danger?" He looked at White in a very cynical way. He's honestly disappointed that he has to go through this nonsense—all he wanted to do was find his son. That was all. After glancing at the two, he tried his best to look and behave more coolly this time. "Look, we are nearly there—we must go, and we WILL go!”

White winced at the remarks on his family, deep remorse pouring over his features. If he could defend himself at that moment, he would have said that he didn't really have a choice in the matter, and no one could search for the colony dead, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything as the image of his daughter and granddaughter were creeping in his head. The Captain could only stare at the English nation for a moment of silence before he tries to reason with him. “I truly apolo-"

“WE WILL GO!”

Arthur's voice bellowed across the ship for everyone to hear, even in the thundering storm and the splashing of the waves. His face was scrunched up in anger. The Captain sighs as he stared into angry forest green eyes. Then he turns around and raises his voice to a shout, directing it at the crew. "Turnabout! We're headed for England!"

A huge sensation of fury has taken over the English nation; it was even stronger than before. He dangerously glared at the back of the Captain's head and growled a curse under his breath. All sense of rationality has left his being when he reached for the hilt of his sword and drew it out his scabbard, ignoring the scraping sound it made. If they're going to defy against him and ignore his orders, then he will make him pay.

But it was two of the Privateers who managed to stop Arthur from his crude intentions. They immediately took hold of him before he could reach the Captain; few more men came over to help hold the English nation down more securely when he started thrashing and struggling against them as he shouted in frustration (he had dropped his sword from the few men stopping him before he had gone berserk). His eyes flashed darkly at the Captain who now looked at him cautiously.

It wasn't until a few moments when Arthur had released himself from their hold after yelling at them to let him go from the top of his lungs. He fell on his hands and knees after stumbling away from them. He remained there in shame, letting the heavy rain pour on his back. He lowered his head to hide his pitiful face. His shoulders quivered visibly as a shaky sob left his trembling lips. Tears rolled down his nose and plopped to the wooden floor along with the raindrops.

This is the lowest he's been in his life. He wanted to disappear. More tears came, but it was hidden from the rain. He let out another sob as the image of his son crept into his head. He'll never see him again. The Roanoke Colony is long gone, and he is mourning his Lost Colony.

"...Elliot..."

Arthur was pulled back into reality with a gasp when a loud snapping sound emitted from out of nowhere. He quickly looked up, his eyes glinting in anticipation, and around to see if Alfred had returned to him or was nearby. But when he looked down, he saw a branch split in half and a hare running long past it. He let out a long, shuddered sigh, after having held his breath in high hopes; he leaned his forehead over his hand that was planted on the tree next to him for a moment.

His face was a mess from the tears he had shed, and he's still fresh of it. So many things are running in his head, though he couldn't comprehend most of it —he felt disoriented and hollow.

Back when he returned to his homeland after abandoning the search of the Roanoke Colony, he had decided to make an addition to his name. Arthur Elliot Harland. He bore Elliot as his middle name in memorial of him and he wanted it to be a reminder to him. He's been haunted by his past for so long and he's been trying to cope with it as best he could. He spent a majority of the years sulking and being miserable from how poor a father he was to his first son.

Even so, he's still convinced that he isn't any better of a father. When he first had Alfred, the Thirteen Colonies, he had been so hesitant in raising him because he feared he would lose him like he lost Elliot; he thought he wasn't worthy of a person to raise a child anymore, but he did so anyway because he wanted to. He wanted to better himself as a father and provide for the boy as much as he can.

And he will. He will not give up until he finds his boy, no matter what. No one can stop him now.

So, what is he doing still standing here?

"...Papa..."

Arthur's head snapped up when he heard something from a distance. He didn't know if he was hearing things, but he could have sworn he heard a familiar voice crying for him. Could it really be?

Another faint shout and it made Arthur's stomach leap. It has to be!

He immediately wipes away his tears and wastes no more time standing there, gawking like a fool and moping about any longer. He starts powerwalking through the woods.

"ALFRED!"

His voice was croaky from crying, but he made sure to sound loud and clear for his son to hear. He continues in the direction of where he heard Alfred's cry. He only hoped to find him unharmed. He would never forgive himself if he was. Arthur waited to hear his cry again so that he could have a better understanding of how far away his son is from him.

"...Papa!"

He was getting close, but he's still quite a ways away. This time he goes to a sprint as he shouted his son's name again, hoping he would follow his voice as well. The boy must be so scared. He can't wait to hold him in his arms.

He ran for what seemed like an eternity. The breeze hit his face as he ran past trees, bushes, and twigs. He ran until his lungs and legs burned, but he didn't care. Not even a thousand men could stop him—he needed to get to his son.

"PAPA!"

His voice seemed closer. It was as if he was within arm's reach. He kept running and scanned the area for any sign of him. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears when he finally caught sight of him standing a few yards away after he looking to his right. He skidded to a stop—almost tripping in the process—and stood there, catching his breath. His chest was heaving, his lungs begging for air. A few moments later, he blinked and stared at the boy to make sure that his eyes weren't deceiving him—that his son is actually standing before him

And there he really was. He was covered in dirt, for the most part, but it's still him. A huge sense of relief washed over him.

"B-Baba...!" Alfred blubbered incoherently as tears started pouring down his face, blinding him of his vision. He stumbled while he ran towards him, his arms reaching out for his father.

Arthur felt his legs moving as he muttered his son's name, running towards his son until he dropped to his knees and collided against him in a tight embrace. No words could describe how overjoyed he was to have found him and to finally have him in his arms where he is most safe. He lifted his son off the ground and held him close, keeping his arms locked around him in a loving hold, one hand over Alfred's head and the other holding him securely. The boy leaned into Arthur's shoulder, his wailing partially muffled and his tears soaking his father's shirt. Arthur didn't care though. He was too busy silently crying into his son's shoulder as well.

"P-Papa, I'm... S-so sor-ry!" Alfred sniveled through hitched breaths. He knew he was wrong to have run off into the woods, chasing the bunny rabbit that he wanted to play with. Moments after he lost sight of it, he tried to find the way back, but he realized didn't know the way. He was lost. He had gone too far into the unfamiliar woods and he didn't know what to do. Alfred had cried a lot then. He cried as he called for his papa, hoping he would find him, but he also cried over the thought that he might not find him and he'll be lost forever. He cried because he was hungry and because his hands and knees hurt after he tripped over a tree's root. But now he's crying because he's happy that his papa found him.

In an attempt to calm the boy of his crying, Arthur caressed Alfred's hair in a soothing manner as he softly hushed in his ear. "There, there," he whispered, "No more tears, poppet, I am here; you do not have to worry any longer." From here on forth, he's going to make sure never to let this happen again. When he was searching for his boy, he had planned to give him a strict lecture, but he had forgotten the moment he first saw him—he’ll make sure to do that once they get home.

A few moments have passed as Arthur stood silently in the midst of the woods, holding his precious son, who leaned his head against his father’s shoulder. He was just about to start walking the way back home until all of a sudden, a growl rumbled from the deep pits of Alfred’s stomach, breaking the silence between the two, aside from the boy’s sniffling and the chirping of the birds.

Pulling himself up and looking sheepishly up at his father, the young colony sniffled before saying, “Papa… ‘m hungry…”

Arthur smiled at the boy. “Are you now? Well, don’t you worry, we are headed home, poppet. As soon as we get there, you will have your favorite meal.” Alfred’s eyes light up in delight at the sound of that; his lips curved to a big smile. “Cake!”

“No, no, that will be for desert,” the English nation chuckled at the slight disappointment his son was giving off, “For dinner, we will have meat pie. Is that not your favorite?” He asked, tilting his head curiously. Alfred puffed his lips as he nodded, which made his father hum appreciatively.  It was his favorite, but he really wanted cake; it was his most favorite food to eat.

And so, Arthur walks forward in fast pace towards direction of his home, with Alfred still in his arms. Although there are many times where he is required to travel back and forth from the Thirteen Colonies to his homeland, no place ever feels like home without his son.

🎊👏🏻👏🏻BONUS SCENE👏🏻👏🏻🎊

“Papa, papa, no! Please don’t take Merry away!” Alfred cried, pulling at his father’s sleeve desperately.

Arthur had promised himself that he would let Alfred’s nursemaid go after everything that happened. If she hadn’t been so reckless as to let her guards down and not pay attention to his son when she was expected to as his nursemaid—or if she hadn’t been so incompetent and went after him before he could go any farther—then Alfred would not have been lost in the woods after chasing a blasted hare.

Meredith, the nursemaid, clasped her hands together with her head hung low. She felt greatly ashamed of failing her master. She knew better than to stay behind in the mansion and wait for Arthur to tell him about Alfred’s escape, rather than going after him regardless of her fears of the woods. She wouldn’t dare blame him for letting her go because of the poor actions she made regrettably. If only she had been braver, maybe then she wouldn’t have put herself in this terrible situation.

Alfred continued to pull on Arthur’s sleeve, trying to get his attention. “Please, it was my fault! I chased the bunny rabbit!” He whined, dragging his feet on the floor; tears were already threatening to spill. He really didn’t want his nursemaid to go.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed through his nostrils impatiently. “Alfred. Stop.” He had already given Alfred his lecture after dinner, though he didn’t sound as strict as he does now, because of how worried he had been for his son. He even made an exception not to give him a proper spanking after the trouble he’s caused.

The nursemaid’s lips trembled as he listened and watched Alfred begging his father not to let her go. It pained her to see him like this because she didn’t want to go either. So, she built up the courage to finally speak. “M-Master Arthur, um…” Meredith started with her hand raising in an attempt to grab his attention, though her calling was enough.

When he looked at her expectantly with a frown, she slightly held her breath. A part of her regretted grabbing his attention, but she has to do this. “Ah… F-Forgive me for intruding, sir, but...” she lowered her hands nervously and looked down at the end of her dress, “I... would very much like If you would give me one… one more chance…” Meredith bit the inside of her lower lip, her heart beating faster than she’d like. After one moment of silence, she realized that she had forgotten to include to her plea, so on impulse, she looked up at him and sputtered; “I-If you please, sir… I-I promise not to be so careless anymore. I care for the boy—I truly do, with all my heart.”

Forest green eyes stare at the nursemaid in uncertainty. Looking down at Alfred’s pleading eyes and back at the girl—who again, lowered her head in shame—Arthur pursed his lips. A lot of things were going in his head. Part of him was considering her and Alfred’s plea, but then another part of him is trying to convince him to send her way, that she has proven herself to be useless to the household.

Alfred squeezed his father’s hand in persistence; he would do anything to have Meredith stay.

A sigh left Arthur’s nostrils, his impatience going lower and lower by the minute, but he ignored Alfred’s distracting behavior for a moment. It took him a while for his thoughts to finally come to a conclusion and making a decision. So, as Meredith bashfully looked up, Arthur looked her in the eye in a stern manner, with only a hint of a pompous look to him.

“… Very well.” The nursemaid let in a sharp intake of breath and immediately let out a shuddered sigh of disbelief and relief, covering her face with both her shaking hands as tears started trickling down her cheeks and a gentle sob left her lips; her shoulders quivered with every sob. “I will give you one more chance, nothing more. So, I suggest you see to it that you do your best in not making any more reckless mishaps, whatsoever. Do you understand?” Meredith immediately nodded her head and eagerly mumbling “yes, sir, thank you, sir, you have my word,” as she wiped her tears with the tips of her fingers, another sob slipping out.

Alfred let out a cheer and leapt delightedly in the air. He was so happy that his favorite nursemaid was given another chance; he got on his tippy toes and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist. “Thank you, Papa, thank you!” He nuzzled his head on his father’s stomach and then looked up at him. “I love you, Papa!”

Arthur couldn’t help but smile back at his son. He stroked the back of his head and lowered himself to give him a peck on his little forehead after holding the strands of his hair back. “I love you too, poppet,” he said lovingly, “now go, run along. You will be having your bath soon, so you best prepare, yes?” Alfred nodded and hummed, but before he would go, he immediately went to Meredith and hugged her as well. She happily returned the embrace with a gentle laugh; she bent over and rubbed his back softly. It lasted for a few seconds until the nursemaid parted herself from the hug and kindly instructed him to do as he was told by his father.

And with the pitter-patter of his feet, Alfred went upstairs, but little did Arthur know that he will soon be dealing with a hyper little boy running around the house in a rebellious act against taking a bath.

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and there you have it! i hope you enjoyed, more so the birth girl (if u dont, then too bad, ur taking it and thanking me anyways cause u dont know the amount of stress i went through making this, so you better love it)

ok now, let me break some stuff down for those that may be wondering about the whole concept with the roanoke/lost colony and such: cas pretty much came up with the headcanon that the roanoke colony was england's first son and i thought it was pretty interesting, so i went with it. in a way, it sort of explains why england would be so protective and pretty possessive of america (apart from the fact that england becomes way more obsessive and controlling by the time america grew up to be in his teenage years with him and the colonists getting more defiant and all) and the thought of england losing his first son brings out the drama in me lmao (and i don't even like drama)

also i think there's some foreshadowing when england promised himself again that he wouldn't let alfred get himself in trouble again because that little boy will go off into the woods again at some point lmfao

i tried to be as historically accurate as i could, so if there are any errors regarding the history of the Roanoke Colony or anything in this story in general that probably doesn't make sense, then it's my bad (cause i feel like there are). i tried my best and i did my research for the most part, but honestly, i'm not gonna worry too much about it since this is more for entertainment than education.