Ok, slightly AU type story, but I got the inspiration and I had to write it. It has some basis in history. Plus, there are not enough stories with Australia in them. Enjoy, my darlings! *blows kisses*

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

The air was crisp and cold, filling Australia's nostrils and making him wish he didn't have to breathe at all. His rump was quite sore as well, as though he had been repeatedly sitting down violently on rocks. As it was, he had been riding in the strange English invention: a carriage, a wheeled box with animals called horses, whose faces were long and unhappy looking, pulling it around.

"Now, you'll understand, the only reason I've brought you here is that you've shown you are civilised; you have proven to me that I can trust you to behave." The green eyes of England were sharp, clearly communicating that if he messed this up, there would be Hell to pay. And Australia knew what that meant, from his months of English discipline.

England gave a nod, and finally knocked on the old, wooden door of his house, which was the complete opposite of their former abode. The walls were a dark green, though not a healthy, vibrant green of plants, but rather that of England's occasionally worn stiff coat. The door was just as uninviting, a great metal beast's face on it, which may have been a lion. It suited England's personality, Australia decided, as he was just as liable to snarl and strike without warning.

It was only a short time until the door opened, and a pale face, framed by silky-looking locks, stuck out. Purple eyes widened as they took in England, and the door opened wide. "Sir, I am glad to see you home. Please come in." The voice of this person sounded grateful, in some way, but strangely held back at the same time. It made Australia think of soldiers, but with a heart.

"Good to see you, Canada," England greeted, handing him his hat and beginning to take off his coat as well as he strode in. Australia followed instinctively, and the boy called Canada fixed his eyes upon him, almost questioningly. "Is this... Australia?"

England nodded at Australia, clearly a prompt, and Australia's mind raced. What was he supposed to say in this situation? Did he ask after Canada's health, confirm his question, kiss his hand? He could not remember. So, naturally, he went for a mix.

"Yes, and how healthy are you?" His smaller hand yanked Canada's forward, and placed a tiny kiss on it. The hand was swiftly retracted, as Canada went pink, though whether with embarassment or amusement, Australia could not tell. England's face was drawn into an irritated scowl, as though he thought he had just seen his supposed success turn to ashes before him. But he collected himself, coughing into his hand.

"Australia, that is not how you greet someone. Try again." Australia tried to think. He had gone over many ways to greet people when he began staying with England, but he could not recall which one applied to this situation. He tried again, this time rather meekly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Canada." It was as though he didn't know what to do with his fingers, they awkardly interlocked and twisted. Canada, however, tried to rescue him from his embarassment. "It's a pleasure to meet you too, Australia. Do you want me to show you your room?" The blonde glanced over at England to make sure what he had said was okay, and he got a nod.

Australia grinned, following Canada as the other hefted his bag from beside the doorway (when had that gotten there anyway?) and headed up the stairs. These stairs were wooden, and they were quite narrow and steep. Australia felt as though, if he missed a step, he'd surely clip his knee very painfully.

There were several doorways in the hallway, but not nearly so many as at a jail. And of course, they were nicely decorated, with carved frames against the rich brown wall. Canada continued to the end of the hallway, glancing back only once to make sure Australia was following.

The door gave a slight creak as it opened, and Australia leaned in excitedly to see what the room held.

There was a bed, with a wooden frame, and a large mattress, which looked rather different from the thin pallet he'd been sleeping on. A wooden structure stood next to his bed, holding a bowl with a pitcher in it, and a wardrobe stood on the opposite wall to the bed, very imposing in its great height.

Australia threw himself onto the bed with an excited squeal, delighted when he found that the blankets covering it were very soft. "Do I really get to sleep here?"

Canada was smiling softly, and he nodded. "So, you come from pretty far away, right?"

"Yes. So far away from here I couldn't even tell you how to get back."

That produced a chuckle from Canada. "I come from a little far away too. Not as far as you, though. I might get to go back, once England calms down though."

Australia's head lifted up from the blankets, interest piqued. "You mean he's not always so grumpy?"

A sigh from Canada, as he turned to look out the window. "No... He's upset, because, you see, my big brother America, he decided he didn't want to be with him anymore. We should have seen it coming. Nothing's ever good enough for Al..." A frown had appeared on Canada's face, as he appeared to be remembering something or other. "I was fine with the taxes. Why couldn't he be? I just... I don't understand why he had to be so rebellious. England's not been the same, not since 1783."

Australia just watched Canada, face a little blank. So... England was mad because this America had left him? And it seemed like Canada was upset too.

So naturally, he reached out and grabbed Canada's hands. "It'll be good! You don't need somebody who doesn't want you! So don't be sad, okay?"

Canada smiled, angry creases disappearing from his face like a shirt being ironed. "Okay. Let's not talk about sad things." He swiftly got his hands free of Australia's smaller ones, and began unpacking his bag, hanging up clothes in the wardrobe. "This is where all your clothes go, understand?"

Australia understood, and communicated it through a nod. Maybe this new home would be a good place to be after all.

Dinner was a silent affair, almost as much as when England wasn't home. Although, at least then Canada could make small conversation with the staff, of whom there were only two, Betty and Eduarda. Eduarda was a large woman, silent as the grave but the best cook Canada had ever met. Betty was light and spritely, but that was muted during dinner, when she made sure they each had enough to drink and removed dishes.

Canada could see that Australia was already getting itchy under his collar, squirming uselessly in his chair. England did not take notice, until the little boy began picking at his nails with his salad fork. "Australia. You do not use your fork like that. Do not cause me to remind you of proper etiquette again."

The fork was placed among its brothers, and the achey silence continued. Canada was fearing where this could be going, what England could have to say that he was keeping them there so long. Of course, they couldn't be waiting for dessert. He knew they had no such luck. England had decided that he had been too soft on his colonies, and so dessert was the first thing to go, except on special occasions.

What was really concerning Canada, though, was the pondering frown on England's face, as though he weren't here, but instead was thinking about something else- or someone. Canada felt the anger in him rise, just a little bit, at the thought of the traitor. What had he been thinking, doing this to them? But then he glanced over at Australia, who was eyeing the fork as though it were the most interesting thing in the room. And it probably was, to the lad, Canada realised. He should probably do something to wake England from his memories and get them dismissed.

"Sir," and he shattered the silence, causing England to look over at him sharply. His head ducked down, but he continued speaking. "Might we leave the table now? Australia is a little boy, and he can't be expected to-"

"He will sit there and behave as long as I desire him to." Came the stern response, as though he were just daring Canada to say otherwise. Australia looked up, murmuring, "I'm not a little boy."

"Sit up straight and speak clearly." England admonished, and so Australia did, and quiet reigned for the next few seconds. Until Australia let out a small whine. "Mister England, I am so tired from the trip. Can I please go to my room?" The plea was accompanied with a pitiful sagging of Australia's body, so that he nearly fell off of the chair.

"Manners, Australia!" England barked, fire coming into those green orbs of his, "What are we without manners? Savages, ungrateful savages, who turn away from civilisation's guiding light! I can guarantee you, if I cannot impress upon you the importance of civility, then it is only because you are too dull-minded, not because of a failure on my part! Are you an unwitting savage, only too keen to give in to your base desires, or will you be a man, Australia?"

Australia appeared to be confused, but he straightened up unhappily. "I'm not a savage." Canada shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Since when had England been so... well, harsh? He would have never given a short rant on savagery to him or America when they were little... Canada supposed it was a sign things had changed.

"Good." England kept his gaze firmly on Australia, as if watching for any signs of savagery. "Canada, you may go. Tell Eduarda the food was excellent."

"Yessir." Canada did not want to stick around to hear more of England's moodiness, even if it was not directed at him. He silently slid out of his seat, making sure to push it in before turning to leave, with one last glance at poor Australia. The boy was sitting up as straight as he could, but there was a droop in his face, as he sullenly watched Canada escape.

Canada did not feel guilty, because it was not his fault this had happened. It was all America's.

/AN/ My sister is making croaking noises instead of talking because she likes to pretend she's sicker than she is. She is so annoying. *rolls eyes* But anywho, this is all rather vaguely based on history, and yes, the povs will change a bunch. That's half the fun of a story, da? And I don't know who invented the carriage, but Australia thinks England did, because he may or may not have implied it. Also, I don't think soldiers are heartless.