(A/N: this is just something I thought up off the top of my head to relieve my boredom from my hectic life. I know I have a few fics I absolutely –need- to get to because I promised my readers I'd do it, but I just don't have the time to sit down and focus on it right now with the attention is deserves. So, instead, here's a short snippet ficlet!)
Revolution
England was mad. No, more like –steamed-.
"Bloody hell! Where does America get off acting like that?"
He thought he'd raised the girl with better ethics and morals than that, and she seemed to have better sense when he'd last scolded her. It seemed she'd finally grown up and matured…or so he thought.
"America!"
The girl flinched as England came storming down the hallway. Her house was quite expansive, and much of it was unknown even to herself, but she was hoping to leave this house and explore the landscape outside one day.
Problem was…
"AMERICA! ALICE! Get over here, NOW!"
Arthur Kirkland stood by the front door, arms crossed over his chest as he ground his teeth in a very un-gentlemanly like manner. However, she knew that if she didn't get this over with, she'd never hear the end of it.
She stepped into the foyer, her head down and her bottom lip between her teeth.
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Don't call me that! You're in trouble, young lady!"
She looked up at him now, her blue eyes defiant.
"What for?"
"What FOR? You spilled tea –all over- the place! It's sitting in the bottom of the harbor in Boston –right now- and I've got reports of you and colonial militia running around dressed as –wild savages!-"
Alice stood at least an inch taller than Arthur, but the older nation still held an air of seniority around her that she usually couldn't help but feel awed by. Not this time, however. Now, she stood as straight as she could, glaring down at England.
Arthur was not to be cowed, however.
"Don't glare at me like that! Do you realize how much tea costs?"
"Yes, Ar-England! I know how much tea costs because –I'm- the one paying for it!"
England blinked, a bit startled. She'd never projected this much force before, and it set him off balance a little. Alice had grown up so much since the French and Indian War. He'd left her a little girl scared of the big, empty house she lived in and the unexplored world outside, and come back to find a young woman tending to that same house like she seemed to do everyday.
Still, he was England, dammit! The British Empire! He wasn't about to bow to one of his colonies now, especially the one he'd helped through her steps of life.
He growled, trying to compensate for his lack of height through his argument.
"Dammit all, America! I've raised you all of your life! Shown you how to walk, how to defend yourself! Hell, -I've- defended you from France and the savages, and Spain! Remember the War?"
France had come knocking on America's door at that point during the Great War, the sneaky little bastard, and tried to take her for himself. Assisted by Algonquin, Ottawa and several of the other Native American brothers, they'd almost succeeded too, managing to get into America's house before Iroquois, Mohawk and the brothers allied to Arthur warned him, and the group put up a great front, pushing France all the way back to poor Canada's house.
Just the memory of that made Arthur regret the way he stormed down Matthew's door, demanding to know where France was. The boy had looked so shocked back then…Arthur had even taken his anger out on Spain as well.
America, however, was still not cowed by Britain.
"Yes. I remember you've always told me what to do, where to go, who to speak to, what to wear. Enough is enough, England! I'm not a little girl anymore, I can do things by myself!"
"I'm not going to let you!" England spat back, snarling viciously. "Dammit, I've tried molding you as best I can, but if you're going to go down this road, then fine! No more good treatment from me! I'll make you pay through the nose until you're flat broke!"
Thinking back on it, perhaps he'd been a little too harsh with that. He –did- need money to pay for his medical bills after the Great War, after all, and Alice didn't appear to have suffered too badly purse wise. Still…was it right to make her go broke simply because they were angry at each other?
He looked down into his hand again, snarling as he read the first few words of the paper he held.
"We the people…"
"Preposterous!" he snarled, tempted to crumple the Declaration up. She'd sent it to mock him, he knew it! There was no way she could survive without his assistance!
Arthur glanced up at America's house, all the way over here. Sure, it was a long distance, but it was worth the walk. Ever since Bunker Hill, he'd been wondering what the hell was wrong with her, and this just proved she was out of her skull.
He walked up, raising a fist and pounding on her door.
"America! I know you're in there! Alice! ALICE! Come out here and account for what you've done!"
Nothing happened at first, and Arthur grit his teeth, snarling as his fists balled up, scrunching the copy of the Declaration he held. She was avoiding him, he knew it. She had to be, he knew she couldn't face what she'd done. Anytime he and France and Spain had attacked each other, they'd always come bragging at each other's door about their inevitable defeat. Heck, England had beaten the stuffing out of Spain for hunting down his pirates, wrecking the Spanish fleet and leaving Spain wide open for France to come in an reap the benefits. He felt no regrets about that now, and no regrets about what he had to do to keep America in line.
The door slowly creaked open, and England moved forward, about to start yelling again about what a little brat America was being and how she was spiraling completely out of control…but he paused as he saw what emerged through the crack.
A flintlock pistol. Held by a hand that had once been pale, but was now tan from the hours spent of building herself up. He looked up, seeing the hand connected to an arm inside a blue uniform, and that was connected to…
"America…" he whispered, eyes wide.
She stood on the other side, her face resolute and determined.
"Hello…England," she said, opening the door completely, keeping the gun aimed at him.
"Hey, what's this?"
She held up the box, her blue eyes wide with curiosity. Arthur chuckled, wincing at the pain in his arm.
"It's for you!"
She opened the lid, gasping in excitement as she pulled out the toy soldiers.
"They're all different!"
The delight on her face of having her own soldiers was overwhelming, and Arthur couldn't help but feel proud, like a father proud of his daughter…
"Alice…" he muttered, frozen in his tracks. She had the advantage right now, he'd left the majority of his army and navy at home. She could shoot him right now and he'd have to lurch home with a bullet in his side.
But she didn't. She simply stood there, in her continental uniform, gun held steady.
"England. I didn't want it to be like this." She glanced down at his hand, nodding at the paper he held. "But it has to."
"No…no it doesn't, Alice."
"Don't call me that!" she snapped, her teeth grit and barely suppressed tears in her eyes. "We're al war, dammit! It's a revolution, and I'm going to be earning my freedom! From now on, -I'm- the one who'll be calling the shots around here, not you!"
She brought the gun up to his face, thumb pulling the hammer back. He stood there, watching her shaking form, not saying a thing.
"I don't want to have to shoot you, England…" she sniffed, desperate to not cry. She'd told herself she wouldn't cry…
"I only wanted what was best," England said, interrupting her thoughts. Alice gasped slightly, almost too quiet to hear. She stared at England now, unblinkingly.
"I only wanted what was best for you, Alice," England said, smiling sadly. He held up the Declaration of Independence, glancing at it before letting it go. The paper drifted to the ground, and Arthur didn't look at it again. Instead, he stared Alice full on in the eyes.
"It seems that what is best for you now…is to let you see what's best."
He turned away, pausing before saying "Goodbye…America. I'll be back soon."
He slowly stepped down from the porch, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket.
For a second, America didn't move, watching England as he disappeared into the horizon.
Then, she let the gun drop, and quietly whispered "Arthur…"