A/N: First fic. Don't flame.

Alright, so this is a story I've written, revolving around Puerto Rico's history, spanning 100 years (1895-1995). This isn't a super history filled fic, but the facts are there; in any case, please ignore any small inaccuracies that may be there. However, if there's something that's just completely, 100% wrong, let me know and I'll gladly change it.

Lots of Spanish is used, but whatever isn't obvious is translated into English just afterward (you'll get what I mean when you read it). I used a combination of my own knowledge of Spanish, and English to Spanish translators. Again, if there's something said in Spanish that is grammatically incorrect, then please let me know ^_^

So yeah. This will be the first of about… 20 chapters? I don't know, give or take. Like most authors here, reviews will fuel my updating speed, so please review ^_^

Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia, that's Himaruya's. Don't technically own Puerto Rico, either; he belongs to history xD

Cambio (Change)- Prologue

They said that having my own flag would be good for me. They told me that I should be able to have a sense of self, separate from Papi. I would, after all, be an independent Nation soon; I would be free from Papi and from everyone else, and finally stand alone, just like all my other brothers and sisters. Yes, they told me. You will be an independent Nation, Puerto Rico. You will be great. Your power will last.

When I say 'they', I mean my people, of course. The Puertorriqueño's. They all wanted to become independent from Papi Spain really badly. And because I was theirs and they were mine and they held my life in the palms of their hands, then of course I had to bend to their will. Such is the curse of a Nation.

This isn't to say, of course, that I didn't want to be independent. Quite the contrary, it's been my deepest desire for as long as I can remember. All my life, instead of having my own boss, Papi's been my boss. I have always been a part of his Empire.

He was once strong. He was once fearsome. He seemed to me like a phoenix, ever on the rise, glowing and shining and expanding, beautiful and terrifying at the same time. The few times he fell, he would rise up again as if it were nothing. It was as if the sun always shone on his land, he was so prosperous.

But I have since learned that all his power came directly from us. When I say 'us', I mean my siblings and I. Papi Spain never would've been as powerful as he was if it hadn't been for us. Years ago, if I had been able to muster up the courage to tell him such a thing, he would've laughed at me and my ridiculous notion. He would've told me that he was powerful because of himself and himself alone, and that we should consider ourselves lucky to be a part of him.

But as my brothers and sisters began to declare independence one by one, Papi's power began to diminish. No longer was he the terrifying Empire that he used to be. The phoenix I once knew as my Papi was falling out of the sky at such a fast and tragic pace that I somehow knew that he wouldn't be able to rise from the ashes this time.

The year I got my flag, he was still an Empire, but that was only thanks to two cousins I'd never met, a brother, and myself.

Cuba and I were the last of Papi's Empire in South America. If you're speaking in terms of years, Cuba and I were among the oldest of all our brothers and sisters; but if you're speaking in terms of development, we were the youngest. Nations age as they develop. Cuba and I… we never did get the chance to develop much. Our brothers and sisters, who had been colonized much later than us, already looked like adults while we looked no older than children.

But that doesn't matter, he insisted. That will all change soon. Together, we will gain our independence. Just as long as we stand by each others sides. Of course we'll get it, he said. We will be great. Our power will last.

Our flags were near identical. The same pattern, same design, same trio of colors, the only difference being the arrangement of said colors. My people designed my flag to be just like his, to show our allegiance to one another. The Cubano and the Puertorriqueño have always been good friends.

The day that they gave me my flag, I gripped the large, 5-foot pole in my hands. It was heavy, and I imagined it to be akin to the weight of responsibility I would feel once I became independent. When they shifted the weight over to me—slowly, as not to overwhelm me—I slowly raised it above my head, and waved it in the air, once, twice. Then I stopped, because it was too heavy. But even so, it was enough to get the crowd in front of me going.

"Puerto Rico! Puerto Rico! PUERTO RICO!"

They chanted again and again my name, proud to be mine, letting that pride run through them and along the veins which held Puerto Rican blood. Their feelings spilt over into me, and I could never remember feeling as happy as I had right then.

Roughly two years after that, on February 9, 1898, Papi gave me autonomy, which meant that I got to govern myself. I was still technically his territory, but him handing this power over to me was just the last step. The next would be independence. I was so close, I could taste it!

During this time, Papi was out fighting a war with this man—a country—named America. As soon as I heard that name, I was immediately struck by a childhood memory of mine.

I once overheard one of my brothers, Mexico, talking to his boss about some guy named America. But, the thing is, he wasn't really talking. It was more like yelling, and he was also throwing things around, breaking everything in his own office. Apparently, this man named America just decided, out of the blue, that it would be a good idea to invade my brother's vital regions and claim them as his own. Mexico was nothing less than furious, this scary red light flashing in his eyes whenever he said America's name. I'd never seen him look so dangerous. He went to war with America not too long after that. Fueled by his rage and lust for vengeance, he fought valiantly but still lost.

I've always admired Mexico for his strength and integrity, and I know for a fact that he's quite the force to be reckoned with while on the battlefield. If this America guy could beat Mexico while he was at his full strength, then I could only imagine what he would do to my weak Papi.

I remember feeling sorry for Papi, before reminding myself of all the awful things he'd done to me in the past. So then I just decided to sit back and watch it all unfold. Cuba did the same thing. We stood at a distance and didn't offer to help Papi, not once, knowing that when America beat him, he would finally be too weak to stop us from declaring our independence once and for all.

And it stood this way for all of three months, before what I did not want to touch finally came home to me.

As I've said before, I had my autonomy, but was still a territory of Papi Spain. I think America saw this and immediately assumed I was on his side. Before I got to tell him that no, that wasn't it at all, before I could tell him that I hated Papi and wanted nothing more than to see him crumble, America brought the war to my house.

On May 10, 1898, America and Papi fought in my capital, San Juan. Two days later, America bombed my capital. I had never felt such destruction rattle my bones since Papi's days as a conquistador. If a capital of a Nation is said Nations heart, then mine broke a thousand times during those two days. My people were screaming, dying all around me, caught in a war neither they nor I wanted any part of. I had been through worse and survived worse, but even so, its nothing any Nation wants to go through.

America didn't stop bothering me after that. On June 25, he blocked all my harbors, so I couldn't receive anything from Papi or Cuba or anyone else. My main crops were sugarcane and coffee—both very good things, but no one can survive on those two crops alone. So, they starved us. Then, little by little, his soldiers start coming to my house and staying, occupying my land. They were there to fight Papi, but since I was a part of Papi, they fought me, too. We were all the enemy. So, they terrorized us, too.

After that, on July 25, America sent over 16,000 of his troops to my house all at once. My people were so scared of these Americans by this point that no one dared to oppose them. These men marched through my heart, San Juan, as if they owned the place.

By August they did. My whole house was occupied by then.

In the mist of all this, one day I looked up at my flag, the symbol of my people and me, and I realized something. It hit me, harder than any one of America' bombs, and I wondered how I never noticed it before. My heart filled with disgust as what was once so beautiful turned tainted and eerie.

My flag looked just like America's. Just like his. I don't know how it happened, but my flag and his flag were like one, his 50 states bunched together as stars, and then my star, alone but still like his. I felt like crying, but somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

On September 29, it's announced throughout my island that I am now the property of America. This is done by Papi's officials. I found this bitter kind of amusement in realizing that they never asked if that would be okay with me. Maybe they did that on purpose. Maybe they knew that if they asked, I would've said no.

Less than three months later, it was over: the war, Papi's Empire, and any chance I ever had at becoming independent. As his prize, America took me, Cuba, and my cousin, Guam. Then he bought Papi's very last territory, my other cousin, the Philippines, for 20 million dollars.

The last words I said to Papi were, "Te odio." ("I hate you.")

But he just laughed at that. "No se dice eso, hijo. Eso no es lindo" ("Don't say that, son. That isn't cute.").Then he bent down and hugged me, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me so tightly that any doubts I may have had that this wasn't as final as it appeared washed away. At that point, I knew that it really was an eternal parting. In my ear, he whispered, "Ahora es el tiempo para ser valiente. Tu vas a vivir con America por un tiempo, pero nunce olvides quien tu eres, si? No dejes que America te quite tu indentidad. Tu, eres Puerto Rico para siempre" ("Now is the time for you to be brave. You're going to go live with America for a while, but never forget who you are, okay? Don't let America steal your identity. You will forever be Puerto Rico.")

Then, I felt this wetness in my hair, and I realized that Papi's was crying, imposing a rainstorm on my tropics. I pulled away; my island had enough hurricanes as it was without him adding to the problem. I looked at him and shook my head a little. "Estúpido." ("Stupid.")

And again, he just smiled.

I turned away from him, before my head could fill with silly, sympathetic thoughts about how maybe Papi wasn't as bad as I always thought he was. I shook off the feeling, and walked over to my brother. He was angry, furious at being taken by America, at being the pawn of yet another country's Empire. He was so upset that he was shaking, but when I placed my hand on his shoulder, he didn't pull away.

"No te precupe, hermano. Todavia hay esperanza." ("Don't worry, brother. There's still hope.")

He looked at me, and gave me a tight, forced smile. But I could still see the fire in his eyes as if it had never left, and he nodded in agreement. "Claro que si." ("Of course.")

I smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, chaste and innocent, although it was still enough to get him to blush. Then, I turned away from him and walked away, past my cousins, all the way up to America. He smiled at me, and I could tell that it was truly genuine, although there was an arrogance behind that smile that ruined it to a certain degree. Without his military uniform on, he didn't look as intimidating as the first time I'd seen him. With just his slacks, shirt and bomber jacket on, he even looked sort of… nice. His hair was the color of corn, with eyes so blue and clear that it was as if within them, he held the sky. Young and full of promise, he reminded me of Papi when he was a conquistador. This man, America, was truly a Nation on the rise.

And with that, my heart sank. Despite what I'd told my brother just moments before, I knew there was truly no hope. How would I ever gain my freedom now?


A/N: Okay, so it's done! A few things I'd like to clear up:

I was about to have Puerto Rico and Spain be very close as father and son, but after I read more into Puerto Rico's history under Spanish imperialism, I realized that I could never do that. Like most Imperialist countries, Spain treated his colonies like crap; in fact, the conquistadors eradicated almost all of Puerto Rico's indigenous population in only 7 years. Now, that takes some sick dedication, and even after a few hundred years I don't think Puerto Rico (or any Nation, really) would forgive something like that too easily.

Yes, Puerto Rico's flag was modeled after Cuba's, not America's. Look it up if you don't believe me; Puerto Rico's flag was created by the Puerto Rican Section of the Cuban Revolutionary Party, stationed in New York City. They created it to be identical to the Cuban flag, the difference being the arrangement of colors. They did this in an act of solidarity, since both countries were fighting for independence from Spain. And also, food for thought: the original design had the flag's colors as red, white, and sky blue (not dark). It was only changed in 1952 to resemble the dark blue of the American flag. That's why, at times, you'll come across a Puerto Rican flag with the triangle colored light blue instead of dark. This version of the flag is usually interpreted as being a symbol of Puerto Rican independence, while those with dark blue usually symbolize support Puerto Rico's status as a Commonwealth, or in extreme cases, Puerto Rican statehood.

So… yeah. Rant aside, the fact that Puerto Rico's flag resembles America's so much is just a really weird coincidence.

Yes, America did invade Puerto Rico during the Spanish American war; yes, it did get pretty ugly. The Puerto Rican's didn't put up much of a resistance, though; the Spaniards did most of the fighting.

That's about all I have to say for now. Review. Next chapter should be up soon.