America's POV:
I remember back when I was still a colony-living at England's house-England would tell me things about his past and I remember one time I asked about how different the fashion and whatnot had changed and I was then given an hour long rant about how much England hated the clothing he would sometimes have to wear in the 17th century. I was there for the 17th century, yes, but I didn't have to wear the kind of things England had complained constantly about.
I now understand why he hates them so much.
Everything was so frilly and stiff and just bleh. I absolutely refused to wear a wig-the kid asked me if I needed one since I was going bald!-and pretty much begged Charles not to make me wear one of the dress-like outfits.
So here I was, dressed in a long coat with only the top ones buttoned, breeches that were the same shade of blue as the coat, a black hat that looked much like the ones Christopher Colombus and them wore, long, white stockings and all that with a sword belt!
I started to wonder how this kid could just conjure up so much money to give a, literal, random stranger a whole new set of clothes but then, as we were leaving, one of the men who had dressed me and whatnot bowed and said, "Have a good day, Master FitzRoy."
Royalty? I stumbled over royalty? Of course I did, why wouldn't I?
Charles nodded, bowing his head slightly, "And you too, Lennon."
I, more or less, waddled after Charles, trying desperately to keep up as I held the bag that contained my old (technically, new) clothes in my left hand. I kept tugging on the collar of my shirt, trying to keep it as far away from my neck as possible-it was just so itchy!
Stop whining, you bloody yankee, just follow the child until you find some kind of shovel to try and hide the time machine.
I rolled my eyes even though I knew it wasn't even England and he couldn't see it regardless.
"Where do you live?" Charles asks, stopping in the middle of the road.
"Oh, n-nowhere right now, I'm just trying to get to the ocean." I smiled, hoping it was convincible (was that a reason people traveled or was that just in the movies?).
"Oh, I could get you there," he said, looking up at me with his brown eyes shining.
Why is this kid so charitable? If it were me, I would've, like, I dunno, cried for England or something at his age which looks roughly to be around 13.
"Are you sure, I mean, you already spent so much-"
He laughed, "You think that was a lot? That was nothing, I could do so much more, plus, I'm in a good mood, let me do this one thing."
I sighed, "Fine, if you insist."
He smiled, "Do you know where exactly you want to go or?"
"No, just the nearest port, I suppose," I said, flinching slightly because I had, yet again, started to speak in an American accent.
Damn it! I'm not used to speaking in this damn accent anymore!
"Okay, I'll arrange for a carriage to take you then." He said, smiling at me.
The time machine Alfred! Arthur yelled and I almost jumped. Don't forget the bloody time machine!
"Th-thank you, Charles, can I take my things as well?"
"Yes, of course," he said, his hands behind his back and his posture stiff.
I smiled, still a bit puzzled as to why he'd help a random stranger out but, eh, whatever floats his boat, I suppose.
The next few hours are spent tiredly following Charles around the city as he talked to me about all his friends and everyone he knows and everywhere he's been.
By dusk, he's yawning and rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"I don't want you to go," he said, his voice just below a whine.
"I don't want to leave you either but-"
"Then don't!" He perked up.
"Sorry kid, I have to."
"But you said you just wanted to go, not that you needed to."
I smile, "You'll understand when you get older," I hate that phrase!
He pouts, "Fine, but I hope to see you again."
"Of course, kiddo," I said, slipping back into my American accent but thankfully, Charles didn't notice my slip up.
"I'll call for a carriage and someone to pick up your things, have a good night Alfred." He said, stepping closer to his house which we had stopped in front of.
"Good night Charles," I said, smiling.
I'm never going to see this kid again, am I?
Nope, Arthur said with no remorse.
I watched Charles retreating figure as he stepped into his house, spoke to the butler who nodded and disappeared.
Then the door which had let yellow light spill into the cobbled street shut, making everything dark.
"Are you Alfred?" A man asks.
The man had short, black hair, pale skin-like, it was almost as pale as Prussia's, I mean he had pale skin-and was wearing a butler's uniform.
"Yes," I said, thinking his eyes looked black but remembered it was too dark for me to prove that correct or not. "And you are?"
"Oh," he smiled, "I'm just one of Charles's butlers."
"Yeah, but don't you have a name? You don't go around calling yourself Charles's butler, do you?" I asked curiously.
His smile never dropped or wavered, "Of course not, I'm Sebastian. Mr. FitzRoy said you wanted a ride to Brighton and to pick something up of yours." He raised an eyebrow.
"Uh," Brighton? Is that by the ocean?
Yes you git. I hear England say.
"Yeah."
"Okay, follow me," the butler motioned me forward.
I followed the butler down to the gravel path way where a bunch of carriages were lined, sleek black and modern (for the time at least) looking.
The butler opened the door with his gloved hands for me, bowing formally.
Woah, this guy is a really good actor. I thought, stepping into the carriage and hearing the door shut behind me.
Is he driving? I thought.
The horses who pulled the carriage started to move after being told, their feet rhythmically clomping on the ground, disturbing the quiet peacefulness of the city.
I mean, can I call it that? A city? It looked like a village to me, honestly.
"Where are your things?" Sebastian the butler asked.
"Uh, the edge of town." I said, trying hard not to make a sound like a question.
He didn't respond so I hoped he knew what I was talking about.
When the carriage stopped, we were exactly where I had arrived.
Huh, is this called the "Edge of Town" or something? I thought, pushing open the door and jumping out.
"I'll be right back," I said, not even bothering with the accent.
I jogged behind the hill which wasn't too far away, seeing the time machine still there.
"Oh thank God," I breathed. "Now how to get it on the carriage without Sebastian noticing..."
I picked up the metal box, it was only a few inches taller than me, enough so I wouldn't hit my head standing up straight and whatnot. Maybe I can just sneak it onto the carriage-
"What an odd looking trunk," Sebastian pointed out.
I yelled out in shock.
"Oh I'm sorry, did I scare you?" He asked.
I laughed, "Yeah, kinda."
"Would you like me to carry it?" He asked.
"No, it's fine, thank you," I said, tucking it under my arm which was fairly difficult because of it's width.
Sebastian turned and walked back to the carriage and I followed him.
He thought it was a trunk? He must have bad vision along with the dark of night.
I settled it on the back of the carriage, making sure it was placed so it wouldn't fall off.
"Ready to go?" Sebastian asked from the driver's seat after I had entered.
"Yeah." I said.
The next couple of hours-I'm not even sure how many-were spent in the bumpy carriage, the horse's loud hooves striking the ground keeping me awake. I think I may have gotten a half hour of sleep in total when the carriage stopped.
"We're here!" Sebastian called.
Does he not get tired?
I stepped out of the carriage into the dimly shining sunlight. The sun was just starting to come out and the birds just started to chirp. I stood at the edge of another city that I supposed was big. Past that, as far as the eye could see, was sparkling, deep blue water, ships of various sizes lining the port.
"Thank you, Sebastian, and thank Charles again for me." I said after taking the time machine off the carriage.
"Of course, oh, and Mr. FitzRoy wanted me to give you these," he said, grabbing a brown-colored cloth bag.
"What's in it?" I asked.
"Money, a gift from Mr. FitzRoy."
"Sebastian, I can't accept this-"
"Of course you can." He said before snapping the reins and he was gone, a cloud of dust in his wake.
I sighed, placing the money-filled bag in my other bag with my old (new?) clothes in it, slipping it around my shoulders like a backpack.
I lifted the time machine-which, after having just woken up-was a difficult thing to do but I managed.
I walked over to the forest that surrounded one half of the city and walked in until I could hardly hear the sound of the water over the animals in here.
I set down the time machine, looking around at the various things I could use to hide it and set to work.
When I was done, I had a pile of fallen (yanked out of their roots) trees, branches, leaves and other things over top the machine which I had laid on it's side so I could hide it better.
It does look a bit conspicuous, I thought as I paced around it to find a way to hide it better.
I shrugged, whatever, whoever happens to stumble over it will just have to deal with it.
I stopped in my tracks.
I'm in England.
How long did that take you? England's voice said sarcastically.
I ignored it, looking over to the ocean.
"What year is this?" I asked no one in particular.
You'll have to ask the humans if you want to know, England said.
I wrinkled my nose, I've already had so much contact with humans, I need more nations.
Ask the humans Alfred.
I sighed, making my way back to the city of Brighton.
As I made my way into the city, I saw people opening up cart stands with fruits and other foods.
Market? I thought.
"Good morning," I smiled to one of the women standing by a fruit stand.
"Good morning, who are you?" She asked, her voice so unbelievably posh I almost laughed.
"My name is Arthur, Arthur Kirkland, and you are?" I asked, holding out my hand and smiling politely with a small hint of something else I hoped she'd catch.
America, England's voice warned in my head.
She giggled, taking my hand, "Alice Smith," she said.
"Pleased to meet you Miss Smith," I said, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to her hand.
That just sent her into a round of louder giggles.
God, I hate people like her, I thought as I straightened up.
Anyways, annoying conversation later, I learned it was the day after the one I was in when it was... present time? I don't know how to word that but it was June 13th, 1689. When I was with Prussia, England and Canada-it was June 12th. Which makes sense since I spent last night driving here.
I've been gone for a day, I wonder what everyone at home is doing.
Probably nothing, the darker part of my mind says. They always find you annoying anyways, I highly doubt they cared.
Even though I agreed with it, I didn't say (think) it aloud, just continuing to walk to the port with a bag of apples in my hand, eating one as I did so.
I sat down on the edge of the dock, my feet dangling over the water's edge.
So it's 1689, this was around the time I had been dropped off in Virginia and left to fend for myself. Or was it Plymouth that he started leaving? Anyways, so England is either in America or here. But what is it he did when he wasn't with me? He never really talks about it, to me at least, maybe he goes and tells Prussia all about it.
Speaking of Prussia, isn't he an actual country now? Yeah, he is.
I sighed, wonder how depressing it is to think that you are no longer a country but still alive-not human either.
I shook off the thought, England... What did England do when I wasn't around? Or anyone? Maybe I can find another nation and ask them, but, do they look the same? I would call them and ask but I tried last night and found that there isn't any reception in the 17th century. Not that I expected to find any.
I groaned, how the fuck am I supposed to get back? There's literally no way to get back!
I looked over and saw a ship-bigger than the rest by quite a bit-with large white sails and a flag with the Union Jack on it.
It can't possibly-
My train of thought was cut off as I saw the familiar figure step off the ship, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked over the city of Brighton.
It is!
Of course, it'd be just your luck to stumble over him. England says sarcastically.
He's also the sarcastic side of my brain at times, just when it's against me really.
I get up, slinging my bag over my shoulder and quickly walking over to the group of sailors.
Sailors? England asks and I can practically see him raising an eyebrow, waiting for me to correct myself.
I stop dead in my tracks.
In the 17th century, England was a pirate.
There you go, England says.
Oh no, from what I heard of them (from none other than England) they aren't people I'd like to be around.
I can practically hear England laughing at that.
Oh, wait, that's because he is laughing.
Oh god, I really don't want to go over there but England!
I sigh, trying to muster up the courage to go over and ask to speak to him.
Why are you so nervous? Just go over there and talk to him!
Yeah, and get my throat cut or something and then have to explain to them why I'm not dead? No thank you, I'd rather enjoy staying out of prison or whatever a mental asylum is for them or whatever.
England sighs in my head. Just go.
Fine, but if I get in trouble-
America! He exasperates.
I'm going, I'm going, calm down.
I straightened up (shamelessly hiding behind one of the posts that ships would tie their ropes around to keep them from floating away only moments earlier) and started to walk over, tightly clutching my bag.
I cleared my throat, getting ready for my British accent. "Excuse me." I said, my voice annoyingly high.
The pirates looked at me oddly.
"Who are you?" The one on the right asked harshly.
"Can I, um," I cleared my throat again, trying to force my voice an octave or two lower. "Can I speak to Arthur Kirkland?" I assumed he used his human name with his pirates, maybe not.
"How do you know his name," the one on the left growled and suddenly, I had two swords pointing at me, glinting in the rising sunlight.
"If you just let me talk to him, I might be able to tell you-"
"You tell us first and then we'll see if you're worthy enough to speak to him." The one of the right spat.
Oh great, here comes the slitting of throats.
"I-"
"What are you two doing?" A harsh voice says behind the two.
I look up and my heart nearly stops.
Dressed in a red outfit, large red cape, gold trim, various metals glinting on his shirt and a large black hat with white feather to match on his head was none other than England.
"This guy claims to know you." Rightie said.
"Yeah, yeah, he even knew your full name, Captain." Leftie said.
I gulped, England turning his cold gaze on me.
"I-I can explain but I'd really prefer if these two weren't here-"
"What does that mean, huh? What you got against us two?" Rightie asks.
"I don't-"
"Yeah, yeah, you think you're better than us or something?" Leftie says.
God damned pirates, I groaned internally.
"Just say what it is you want and how you know me."
"I-I can't, I mean, if I did you'd get mad and-"
England waves his hand dismissively, "Forget him. Let's go." He turned on his heel and started to walk away, his goons following him.
Holy shit, please don't try to kill me (try, he can't-not really).
"England!" I yell, a feeling of desperation filling me.
England stops.
What is he-
Before I know it, England's back in front of me faster than I could register, pressing a blade against my neck.
I grimaced as I felt it dig into the first few layers of my skin and draw a bit of blood.
"How," he spoke in a low, menacing voice, "do you know my nation's name."
"I'm a nation too!" I said.
He stared at me, his gaze cold and unwelcoming.
"I-I'm a nation too, I-well, you have heard of me, you've seen me before you just... you just don't recognize me. There's no way you can," I say, smiling wearily.
His eyes narrow, "What's your name."
I clear my throat, "I-I'm th-the United States of America."
His eyes widen, pushing me back as his expression hardens again.
"Yeah, right." He rolls his eyes. "America isn't here and he is-"
"About three, maybe less, feet tall. I know, but you have to believe me."
"Do you know this guy, Captain?" The guy who was originally standing on my left asked England.
He waved the two away, "Go back to work, we're leaving not too long from now."
The two pirates nodded, shooting me a glare before running off.
"How can you possibly think I'd believe what you say-"
I sighed, "England. I know your damn human name, for God's sake. You're middle name is Ignatius, I always find you talking to yourself and laughing like a maniac but you always insist there's someone else in the room with you. You colonized over half the world along with me and my brother Canada. Your arch nemesis is France, all you ever do is drink tea and eat scones. You can't drink alcohol without becoming piss drunk. You can't cook even if your life depended on it and you're dating Prussia."
He looked at me oddly, "Prussia? What do you-"
"I mean-" my eyes widened, he isn't dating Prussia in this time! Oh shit!
"Most of what you said was right, but how can you possibly be America-he's only-"
"Less than a hundred years old, I know, but I swear, I'm America."
"What did you mean by 'United States of-'"
"N-nothing, it's just..." I grimace, "Nothing, you'll understand when you get older."
"I'm older than you, you git."
I laugh, "That's true, I guess even now you're still older than me but you wouldn't understand."
His expression is unreadable as he stares at me for a moment.
"Fine, until I get proven otherwise, I'll believe your lie. Let's say you are America as you claim to be."
"I am," I mutter.
England's eyes flash, promptly shutting me up.
Holy shit, England can be scary if he wants to.
"If you are who you claim to be, why do you look like this and why are you here?"
I sighed, "It's an extremely long story I really don't want to recount and you wouldn't believe me anyways or understand."
His expression never changes.
I sigh again, "Okay. Fine, let me sum it up for you. Have you ever thought of time travel?"
"Time tra-"
"Yeah, like, going back in time or to the future or something?"
"No, we'll get to that stage in due time, there's no need to rush the speed of things." He said in that annoying matter-of-fact was England has of speaking.
Even as a pirate, he's still the same person.
"Well, in my time frame, we've been working on time travel and-"
"And you figured it out?" He asked curiously, a bit more of the England I know coming forward.
"Not exactly."
"What do you-"
"I mean, we did have the time machine to take someone back or forward in time but it wasn't exactly finished."
"But you still went back anyways?" He deadpanned.
"It was an accident!" I exasperate.
He laughs, "Of course it was."
"Sir," a woman's voice says behind England.
He turns, raising an eyebrow at the dark-haired woman standing there.
"We've finished and are ready to go, Captain."
He nods, "Good. Get everyone on board, we'll be leaving soon."
"Yes, Captain," she says, bowing before turning and leaving.
"Wait, where are you going?"
He smirks, pointing to the ocean behind him.
I can't leave the time machine but I don't want to leave England.
"Are you coming?" He asked, his voice far away.
I looked up to see England standing on the gangway that connected the ship and the dock, allowing people to walk on and off it.
I glance nervously at the city behind me then back at England.
I sighed, not hearing the rational part in my head yelling at me in it's British accent to not do it so I went ahead.