I just want to say I have no idea where this came from. It popped up in my mind one night and it had to be published.

"Alfred, come here and make yourself useful!" Yelled the angry Brit as he took a sip out of the almost empty tea cup.

"Coming, m-master.." the American said as he scrambled his way to his his master. He couldn't keep him waiting. That would make him angry. He didn't want his master to get angry. Then he would beat him.. again. "What do you need, master?"

"Oh, you don't know what I need? Are you not paying attention?" He asked, a frown on his face.

Oh god, he was going to get hit. He knew it.

"I-I'm sorry, master. I don't know what y-you need.." he stuttered out, backing away from his 'Master' a bit.

The Brit scowled and got up from his seat. "Are you sure you don't know?" he asked venomously, glaring at the American that was now trembling slightly.

"I..I... I'm s-sorry b-but I don't k-know..." he said weakly. He couldn't figure out what his master wanted. He hadn't given him anything in the last half an hour. He hadn't done anything to provoke him.

The Brit was angry that his little pet didn't know what he needed. He was always supposed to know what he needed. Pissed, he grabbed the teacup and threw it at Alfred, who got hit with it directly in the face. "You bloody idiot! You're worthless! You can't even figure out when a bloody teacup is almost empty!" he screamed at the American who was now on the ground, trying to pull the pieces of shattered glass from his face.

"I'm s-sorry m-master! I wont ever not realize again! I'm so sorry!" he said, trying to get off from the ground, but to get kicked in his side by his master. The pain flowed through him as he fell back on the ground, now grasping his side.

"You should be. Now get up and clean up all this glass!" he shouted, pointing the pieces of shattered tea cup that was the ground.

"Yes master." he said through the pain as he got up and went to pick up the glass. If only he wasn't part of this empire. If only hadn't lost against England. He wished the Brit had never snapped. He would be home right now. But then again, he didn't even remember what his home was like anymore. It had been so long. He had been living like this for only god knows how long.

When he lost the war, the Brit had grabbed him by the arm and said, "You're mine now, and this time, you're never going to leave."

He was right. He couldn't remember the last time he had been outside this mansion. The only time he was ever even close to seeing the outside world was when he had been trying to find his master, and had passed a window. He looked around a few times before hesitantly looking through it. He was amazed at what he saw. There was green everywhere and animals. He didn't know how to describe it. Then he remembered. It looked so peaceful. He hadn't been anywhere peaceful in a long time.

He quickly picked up the glass and threw it away. Then he walked to his master. "Is there anything else you need master? D-do you want some more tea?"

"Yes," he said simply.

America nodded shakily and went to kitchen to get his master some more tea. He remembered when his master drank tea because he actually liked it. Now it was just because he was stressed. He was an empire after all. One of the biggest in the world now. How he wished it wasn't true. How he wished he wasn't a slave to the man that he used to love.

That's right. He loved Arthur, are used to love him at least. He changed though. He had snapped and went power crazed, forming another empire and attacking many used to be countries. They weren't countries anymore though. No, they were part of the empire. Then he attacked America. America hadn't been expecting it, and was surprised. He attacked back, but wasn't strong enough. England had gotten stronger with his new empire, having already taken over Hong Kong, France, and Canada. He wanted America to join his empire.

And join he did. England never quit sending troops. America couldn't keep up. His people were suffering. So he did the only thing he could do. He pulled back and surrendered. It was all he could do. He didn't want his people to suffer anymore. He didn't know he would have to become part of the empire when he surrendered though. If he would have known it would have been like this; he would have never surrendered.

He finished the tea and gave it to his master. "H-here you go.." he said.

"Oh, that's it? 'Here you go'? Whats missing from that sentence?" the Brit asked, a small frown on his face.

Alfred looked confused, not knowing what to say. What did his master want now? "I.. I don't know." he said fearfully, not looking his master in the eye.

"It's 'Here you go, master.' !" he said angrily, kicking Alfred again, causing him to fall to the ground. He wasn't expecting that.

"I-I'm sorry, master.." he said, trying to not show the pain on his face. Why did he treat him like this? What had he done to deserve this? Surely he didn't deserve this for the revolution. And if it was for the revolution, it wasn't like he didn't regret it! He had hated the fact that he had hurt Arthur. It made him feel terrible. But what could he had done? He wasn't going to sit there and let him tax his people like that!

Things had only gotten worse since he was taken into the empire. He was pretty depressed since he found out he was no longer an individual country. But, he figured it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. Canada, France, and Hong Kong where there. So it couldn't be that bad right?

Boy was he ever so wrong.

It was the worst. He had never thought it would be this bad, or that England would treat him this way. Where was the England that he used to know? He couldn't be gone forever, right? No. Alfred knew that England that he loved was in there somewhere. Just.. hiding. The first few weeks Alfred tried getting him to let his nicer side out, but would always end up getting hit or worse.

Alfred had given up all hope. Know all he did was serve England to his every need, trying not to provoke him. Trying to make him just a little bit happy. If he's happy making my life terrible, then I'll let him make my life terrible. As long as that makes him happy, Alfred thought. It sure seemed like England enjoyed making Alfred's life miserable. There was no way America would be happy anymore, the only way he could be happy is if everything went back to the way it was. But that was never going to happen, so why not make the person he thinks he loves happy?

The whole time he had been in the empire, he saw no sign of France or Hong Kong. The only person he saw was Canada, and that was only once. He had saw him, walking through the hallway rather fast. He looked worried, nervous, like he was committing a crime. Then again, if he was being treated the same way as America was, when was there a time when he wasn't nervous? A time when he wasn't scared?

He had tried getting Canada's attention. He called (Or rather whispered) Canada's name, hoping he would hear. To his luck, he did hear him, and at that exact moment, his and Canada's eyes had a little life in them as they looked at each other. Two brothers who hadn't seen each other in long time. Though both America and Canada wanted to talk to each other, hug each other, comfort each other, they knew that they couldn't. But the look Canada gave America told him that he wanted to.

They locked eyes for about 3 minutes before Canada had to force himself to look away. He gave a sad look before turning away and walking down the long hallway and turning the corner. America hoped that Canada would be ok, whatever he was doing. All he knew, is that whatever he was doing, he wasn't supposed to be doing it. Maybe he was trying to run away. If he was, America hoped that he would find a way out. He hoped for him to be free, to not have to life like this.

"Get up. You're pathetic." said his master, kicking him again. "I know you can."

Alfred got up, despite the pain, and looked at his master, with fear and the tiniest pinch of hatred. Why did he have to act like this? Why couldn't he act like the Arthur he loved?

England must have saw that pinch of hatred, because he asked, "What? Do you hate me? Do you want me to die?" he asked in a calm tone, watching America closely.

America knew that whatever answer he gave, he would get hit anyway. So he said what his master would probably want to hear, "No master. I-I don't hate you, master. I don't want you to die. If anyone should die, it should be me. After all, I'm worthless."

America could of sworn he saw England's eyes show a bit of sadness for a second before re-filling with anger and hate. "It's about time you finally admitted it." he said coldly. America put his head down in shame, pushing the thought that he saw sadness in England's eyes away. There was no way.

"Just go, go to your room. Because you can't do anything right and I don't feel like dealing with you.."

"Yes, master.." America mumbled sadly, heading off to the room England had assigned him years ago.

America went to sleep when he got to the room, not that he was complaining. Any sleep at all was good. But he kept on dreaming of all the bad things England had been doing to him, to Canada, to all the other countries he had taken over. "Please.. please go back to normal. I-I can't love you like this.." he mumbled in his sleep.

Later that night, England went to America's room. Just to.. make sure he was there, yea, that's why. I'm sorry America..the Brit thought as he looked at him. I'm sorry, but if I act kind, you'll just leave me again..

Yeah.. that's the end. Hope it wasn't to depressing for ya! I have no idea where it came from, I just had to type it up and publish it though. Hope you like it even though.. ya.