APH: The Alice Game, Ch. 1

T h e  A l i c e  G a m e
A  H e t a l i a  F a n f i c t I o n
C h a p t e r   O n e

~ <3 ~ <3 ~ <3 ~

"I'll see you again, won't I?"

"Of course. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't keep my promises?"

"Not a very good one."

A laugh, "That's right."

"Do I have to go…?"

"Yes, lad. It's time to open your eyes now. We'll be waiting for you."

~ <3 ~ <3 ~ <3 ~

Mathieu loved to dream. In his dreams, he was the focus of attention. He could be anything—a romantic hero, a painter, a scientist. He loved each idea, gave each thought his full attention and deliberation.

Then he would wake up.

He would return to the real world where he was simply a speck on the planet's surface, overshadowed by daunting accomplishments that he couldn't have hoped to achieve outside the realm of dreams.

This was the world where his name was forgotten, and he was mistaken for his twin—the twin who inherited all talents and looks in the womb and left Mathieu with nothing but the scraps of determination and perseverance, the two things that earned him near perfect grades and spots in honor societies (although they also sometimes confused him with his brother).

He would wish desperately throughout the day to return to his world, the Wonderlands he created in his mind, always hoping that one day, he'd go back to a sickeningly familiar dream that he simply could not remember clearly enough.

There were pleasant faces in that one. One with a perfect smile, perfect hair and a funny, familiar accent that his father once had; the other with blazing, colorful eyes and a sour attitude to everyone except Mathieu.

He couldn't remember much outside that about the dream, other than he enjoyed it and he didn't want to leave. As all dreams do, however, it ended with a single memorable sentence.

"We'll be waiting, Matthew."

Another wonderful thing about that dream—they always remembered his name, and never called him the hated one, "Alfred."

But he had forgotten theirs. It seemed unfair, even if it wasn't real, but Mathieu had always been overly sympathetic.

So he kept trying to dream that dream, writing down everything he could remember about it, if he remembered a small detail, in a decorative journal. He would re-read the things he had written down for hours, "tea," "frogs," and, "cards."

Nothing was remembered.

~ <3 ~ <3 ~ <3 ~

There was really nothing out of the ordinary about this day. Maybe it was the straw that broke the camel's back, the drop that overflowed the cup.  Enough was simply enough and he snapped.

It was an innocent mistake on the sophomore's part, simply being polite and muttering, "Hi Alfred!" in passing. The young Canadian tried to ignore him, but he couldn't, not after it had already happened that day.

"I'm not Alfred!" he snarled uncharacteristically at the boy, who stopped short and shrank.

"O-oh… I'm sorry… uhm…" the boy was obviously trying to recall his name, while also fighting the urge to run away.

"Matthew. Matthew Williams. Remember now?" he snarled.

The boy simply darted off through the crowd to avoid a fistfight (he was a skinny, shrimpy little thing. No muscle tone or weight to him at all).

Mathieu turned on his heel and walked right out the front door of the school—he was a senior and eighteen years old; he was able to sign himself out. He walked angrily through the schoolyard and to his car, climbing in and slamming the door with much more force than necessary.

When he started to drive, he had no idea where he was going. Maybe back to Canada with his dad, but he was in Georgia. That would take too long and cause too much of a ruckus with his mother and Alfred. Maybe he would just slack and go to River Street in Savannah—it was only a few hours away, and it might be fun. Plus, being on the highway would allow him to legally drive at angry speeds of seventy instead of the grandma pace of forty.

He was so entirely wrapped up in his thoughts; he didn't see the car driving on the wrong side of the road, heading straight towards him.

~ <3 ~ <3 ~ <3 ~

He woke up sore and disoriented. His head ached like he had knocked it against concrete. His eyelids refused to listen to his brain and open to see where he was. It smelled vaguely like antiseptic and medicine.

He wrestled his eyes open was greeted with something completely different.

He was in a large room—very large. It had a seemingly endless ceiling and a simple little table in the middle, made of cherry wood with a clear glass top.

He managed to rise to his feet, wobbling slightly as his muscles groaned in protest to the movement. He leaned against the wall as he got his footing, and then began to walk forward to the table.

As he came closer, he noticed intricate patterns infused in the glass that upon further inspection, appeared to be words. Mathieu frowned as he tried to read what they were, but was interrupted by small voice.

"Who?" it asked, it's voice a high, innocent soprano.

Mathieu quickly turned to stare at the source of the voice. Across the room was a small, white bear, with black eyes that glimmered mischievously. It lifted a paw to scratch behind an ear.

"Who?" it questioned again, standing up on its hind legs and walking forward to Mathieu.

"I'm, uh, Matt—" the bear cut him off.

"I know your name." it replied shortly, "Who are you?" it repeated, and the teenager found himself becoming increasingly frustrated.

"What do you mean?"

The bear was about to answer, than looked at a watch that was attached to one paw, "We're going to be late."

Mathieu groaned in frustration, "Late for what?" he growled at the bear, who was unfazed by the venomous tone.

"Tea time." It answered tonelessly, "I want some snacks."

The bear walked over to a door that Mathieu hadn't previously noticed—it was covered in words just like the table, but was also accompanied by pictures. There were the suits of cards, and depictions of warriors fighting against each other, with no clear villain or hero. He wanted to read more, but the bear opened the door and obscured the patterns.

They stepped outside into the blinding sunlight.

~ <3 ~ <3 ~ <3 ~

"Vee~ fratello~" the younger twin said to his brother, "That Alice is back. What should we do, vee~?"

The elder scoffed, rolling his golden eyes in exasperation, "What do you think? Unless we want to lose, we have to get rid of him." He snapped, "I don't know about you, but I like being in charge."

The other made a cheerful sound of agreement, before calling out, "Ludwiiiiig~" the sound echoing off the stone walls of the castle.

A brawny, blonde man answered the call, kneeling in front of the twin thrones. He opened his mouth to address the two rulers, but the elder interrupted, "We need you to kill someone. Brutally. Understand that, Potato Bastard, or is it too much for your pea-brain to handle?"

The blonde man, Ludwig, didn't bother to hide he was insulted, but didn't argue, "I understand," he answered.

The younger clapped his hands together in glee, "Vee~ it's the Alice we told you about! So have fun~" he chirruped, earning a none-to-gentle punch on the arm from his brother.

Ludwig took that as his signal to leave the bickering twins and carry out his duty to his kings. He grabbed his sword with a sigh, despising that he was going spill more innocent blood on the ground, but he would do anything for Feliciano.

Even kill the last hope for Wonderland.

TBC…