Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia ! I sure would love to though! XD
Title: The wrong road
Summary: After gaining independence from England, America realizes that he has no idea how, and where to begin on his own. When one of his soldiers gives him an idea that he takes too close to heart, he develops a split personality that threatens to tear him and his new world apart.
Rated: T to be safe.
Warning: contains derogatory language and painful historical events!
Now on to the story!
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Darkness. All around him was nothing but darkness. That, and silence, until it was interrupted by sparkling ,extravagant, booming lights that seemed to cut through the thick black blanket. For a moment, the frown on his lips became a halfhearted smile, his body, no longer stiff and old-looking. Then, he realized something, something that he should have thought of even before he revealed his plan to break away from English influence. It was all coming to him now and the satisfactory look soon vanished, and was replaced by a look of horror. He doesn't know how to-
"Happy birthday sir!" one of his soldiers shouted happily from behind him. The teenager shook and spun around to behold the owner of those words. Though he acknowledged it, the boy was confused.
"B-birthday? "
The older man smiled at him. His smile was almost pitiful, and made Alfred cold on the inside.
"Of course sir! He yelled. Even though the fireworks were loud and you definitely had to talk over them, Alfred felt as if the soldier's tone and high octave voice was highly unnecessary. He felt as if he were including more than just himself into the conversation. This revelation could be supported, because he saw some of his other men look up and progress slowly in his direction.
"Today—well ,actually a week ago today, is the day that you claimed—and won, might I add… your independence from that bastard of a man Britain!"
Alfred winced at his name, immediately tumbling into a timeline of his life with that man. From the day he found him, to this day, the day his greatness vanished and left a weakened man sobbing in the brown mud at gunpoint.
The men , now next to Alfred began to laugh, and chant: "Happy birthday! Free at last! Free! From that Bastard Britain!"—
"Excuse me! The young man shouted suddenly. I—I need some time… to myself…"
The men looked at him shocked by his outburst, but saluted respect and strode off of the balcony. The first solider smirked and stalked slowly behind the others, only to stop at the doorway, and turn around and face his leader. Alfred tried desperately to ignore the man's eyes by looking everywhere but at him. They seemed to tell him something like, " I know something that you don't." He shuddered slightly and lifted his right hand as if to block his eyes.
"P—please…"
The man chuckled lightly, and turned around.
"Sir."
As soon as he was aware that everyone was gone, he sighed heavily and looked up at the night sky. The fireworks had finally ceased , but the cheering still continued. The revolutionary closed his eyes tightly, gritted his teeth and began to sob silently. The evanescent though had started to return until he heard the door swing open.
" I thought I told you all to leave!" He screamed. He looked over his shoulder only to meet another pair of blue eyes. His ally's to be exact.
"France?"
"Ah, bonjour Amérique!"