Yes. Another story. I was listening to Christina Perri's song, 'A Thousand Years', and this idea came to my mind.
The first one will be about America, and others are soon to follow.
Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia does not belong to me.
I didn't think that I was a special girl or anything. I thought that no one could notice me, with a plain, dull face and whatsoever no talent to show standing in the corner of the room.
Yes, our house was pretty much a room. Both my older brother and my father left to join the Union army. They're both brave men. Even someone so plain like me could feel that much about a person. I was never even good at household chores, like washing clothes or cooking, but Father still loved me. Mother died when I was born, and I always felt guilty that I could never contribute enough to our already struggling family.
My brother, John, was the only one who really saw me as something else, save for my father. He used to go on and on about how bright my blue eyes were, and how golden my hair was. He had that sort of personality that could pick out anything good in a person and make them feel great about it. I don't even know how we're related, seeing how different we are. Sure, our hair and eyes were the same, but John stood out. In a really good way. Everybody in town knew who he was, and liked him a lot.
I guess when I broke the news that it really took the smile out of everyone's faces.
The ladies in town talk about how I should get married so that I actually had a future and a family to pass our farm to. Farms were becoming useless because of all this machinery that's being developed, but since my Father refused to make me work in a factory or sell the farm, I guess I'll hold on to his wish. I mean, I am all that's left of our family. I should make the best of what's left and pick up the pieces.
The pieces weren't hard to pick up. It was the whole finished picture that worried me.
Did I really want to stay in a rundown farm, and never get anything accomplished?
The army needed nurses. Nurses who would heal the injured soldiers, who fought in the battlefield. I thought that by doing something like that, I could be needed in a way. I never tried first aid, but if I attempted it, who knows?
The army was so desperate that they would take any young woman. I was one of them who made it.
In the camp, I saw lots of the others girls flirting with the other soldiers, and some were already kissing. It's probably none of my business, but it was kind of disturbing. That soldier had a ring on his finger! Well...if the girl was his wife or fiancée, that would be alright, I guess. Since I didn't hear much of the earlier conversation, I probably didn't know what was going on, so I turned around and left.
The soldiers I tried to talk to were sweet talking me like I was a girl begging for candy. I was never one for men like that, so walking away was the best choice. Soldier by soldier, they all had different personalities, different lives, different voices, different dreams.
It killed me to think that John was one of them.
One soldier was named Anthony Drake, an eighteen year old from Wisconsin. He was the quiet type, but had a nice, small smile and was really polite. Another stood by him, contrasting his looks to the max.
He had electric blue eyes that seemed to shine, and a bright, white smile on his face.
His name was Alfred F. Jones.
"It's a pleasure to meet ya', miss!" He held out his hand. As I took it, I felt how sturdy it was. I also felt how strong it was.
Alfred didn't have an extremely muscular frame, nor was he thin as a stick. Indeed, he looked healthier than most of the men, and dare I say it, he was a bit handsome. A stray strand of hair, golden as the sun, stuck out from the side of his head.
"It's a pleasure, Mr. Jones." I bobbed into a clumsy curtsy.
Anthony gently said that he had matters to attend to, and Alfred quickly recognized it as he ran off.
"...I hear some of the other guys were bugging you." His voice, still energetic, dropped to a milder, softer tone. His eyes were locked onto mine, and his arms were swaying at his sides.
"It's alright. I've dealt with people like them before." The boys from the town would always bully me and steal wheat, whenever John wasn't around. After I cried out my heart, John would march into town and come back a few minutes later with the wheat. He patted my head and said it was alright, and that nothing would ever hurt me without it going through him first.
"You know, someone used to tell me that you can't solve problems that involve the world without solving things back home first. If anyone tries to hurt you, I'll be the hero and make sure they don't ever get to you, alright?" He grinned, placing his hands on his hips.
The smile I saw before...I couldn't tell if it had been earnest or not, but I knew for sure this one was.
"Sure." I attempted a smile, and shrugged my shoulders.
We were called back into our tents after that.
For some strange reason, in the small cot I slept in, I couldn't sleep just yet. Was it this new life I was about to experience? Or our old farm that I sold off?
Or was it how Alfred sounded like John when he said that they would never get to me?
My arms wrapped around my small frame. The night was cold, even though it was summer. When Father and John died, I remember being colder than I ever was before.
The strange thing was, remembering Alfred's words again and again, I felt warmer.
The first battle was a disaster.
I tried to hold my nose as dead bodies were scattered across the grassy field. The air, which had smelled fresh and clean before, now smelled of blood and rotting flesh.
Suddenly there was a girl's cry. There was a group of other girls huddled around in a partial circle, around the girl I had seen kissing a soldier with a wedding band a while ago.
As I got closer, I only caught a glimpse of her arched back shaking against a body of a soldier. The body was unmoving, caked with blood in multiple areas.
It was only then when I noticed an identical wedding band on her finger.
From the time I arrived and the time this battle began, Al and I talked a lot together. Occasionally Anthony would join in, but he was always running off on duty. I got to know Al more. Right, he told me to call him 'Al' because for some reason he didn't like it when he was called 'Alfred'. I didn't bother to ask him anymore on the subject, because already a look of disappointment was showing on his face.
Al didn't come from any extremely well known or wealthy family. He told me that he was born in Massachusetts, and his parents passed away before he knew them. He had an older brother, whose name he didn't mention, who took care of him. As he got older he and his older brother got into more fights, which led him to leave home and become a soldier.
"'Don't care where he is right now. Probably begging me to come crawling back to him or something." Frowning, he swept away the crumbs of the stale bread he had to eat.
"That doesn't change the fact that he still took care of you when you were little." He made an annoyed noise with his tongue.
"It also doesn't change the fact that he never saw me as being able to take care of myself." Al fell silent, bright blue eyes now dull as my own. His lips were pressed into a thin line as he looked at the stream that ran underneath our feet.
I never saw him that unhappy before. And I hated it. Al was a great person, who was meant to smile.
"Hey. You shouldn't do that." He jerked his face back up to me.
"Do what?"
"Frown. It doesn't suit you." I spoke carefully. Saying things from the bottom of my heart to people I wasn't attached to wasn't like me. I think this was the very first time I did that.
Al blinked. Once. Twice. Eyes glued to mine. Then, his eyes became bright again as he threw his head back and laughed.
"Of course not! I'm supposed to be a hero, right?" His smile returned as he stood from the stump.
"I'm going back now. You should go too." I followed him, watching his back. As we walked, his pace became noticeably slower.
"Hey."
"Yeah?"
"...Thanks." It was a very quiet mumble, almost a whisper that I couldn't hear. His voice had never been that low. It held a certain strain to it, as if there was something he had been holding back.
"You're welcome." I came to his side, and by the time I was there he was smiling again.
Now, as I bandaged the arm of a groaning Lieutenant, I saw a familiar sight crouched down a few meters away from me.
As soon as I saw the bandage tight enough, I ran to his side.
"Al, are you hurt?" He didn't move. Stooping down, I saw who the body was that he was looking at.
It was Anthony.
I froze. Anthony, dead? The kind, quiet boy who I met just a few weeks ago...dead? I brought my dirty palms up to my mouth, holding back a choked sob. My eyes began to water, as I felt a wet trail tracing a line down my cheek.
"Don't cry." Al's voice was weak.
"I'm sorry." Brushing away my tears, I exhaled. One death, and many more to come. Anthony was one of the many who died, one of the many who held dreams and wishes in their heart. Anthony was my friend, and more so Al's.
My vision became unclear, my mind becoming hazy with thoughts. It wasn't until I felt something warm against my hand.
It was Al's hand. Slowly, I tilted my head upward as to see his face.
Smiling, again.
"Heroes...can't make girls cry."
Anthony's death still didn't make Al suffer. Some of the men in the army left, and some who stayed were extremely discouraged. Yet, Al wasn't one of those men. He stood tall, loudly describing how the road ahead of us was long, and that fellow soldiers who died would have died for nothing if we didn't move on.
He was more inspiring that I thought. This was a side I hadn't seen of him. Smiling, joking Al was now strong, leader Alfred, making a way for his fellow soldiers to keep going.
Everyone was brought up by his words. They called him a hero, for standing up like that.
In my chest, I felt a warm feeling. A feeling of happiness, of joy. I hadn't done anything, but Al did. Al did something great.
That night, as I tossed and turned in my sleep, I learned something.
I would follow Al until the end.
It wasn't about me just going forward anymore. Actually, I couldn't care less if I remained the person I was, a nurse in the Union army.
It was about Al, now. About Al going forward. About Al being praised, about Al being strong.
About Al to keep him smiling.
Battles continued to pass, and Al just kept getting stronger. Many were losses, few were victories. But he still held his head high and marched forward, going up the ranks and leading the front line into battle.
I didn't know it, but even I had proved to be good enough to go up the levels as a nurse. Now, I was the one commanding new girls where to go, what to do. Even with all the new recruits, I could point out the original strong men who stayed throughout the war. There weren't much, but we were proud of them.
And of course, I always looked for the man with the golden hair, bright blue eyes and white smile.
As we went up the ranks, it didn't change how we spoke to each other. I was glad for that, and so was he.
We still walked together, when there wasn't anything that needed to be done. Since we were busier, it was harder to find time. At night, when no one was looking, we went about the outskirts of camp, despite what Al's commanding officers would say against.
"You've heard about what they say about us, right?" I asked him. He snickered.
"Yeah, about how we've been together and how we might be causing a scandal." I laughed quietly, wary of the sleeping soldiers around us.
"Yeah, they're..." I drifted off.
What did I think about Al?
"Al, you never change. It's been months...maybe a year...and you're still smiling. Nothing can bring you down." I swiftly changed the subject.
Al sucked on his lip, turning away for a moment.
"Mary...well, it's weird, and I usually don't tell people this, but..." We heard a rustle in the bushes. The two of us froze, Al's hand moving to the pocket that held his gun.
A squirrel leaped out, scurrying up a nearby tree.
"Mary, can I talk to you about something tomorrow? In my tent."
"Is it really that important?" I raised my eyebrows playfully. Al wasn't really the cautious type.
Even with that smile on his face, his eyes were a graver shade of blue.
"It is."
Al's tent was more spacious than the one I shared with the other girls. Well, most of them had become ladies by now.
I think I've become a lady myself, as childish as it sounds.
A lantern dimly lit the canvas wall as Al shifted uncomfortably in his seat. I caught sight of light bangs, barely visible, under his eyes. I felt bad for having him stay up this late, and with all that work to do...
"Mary. I'm...I'm not a human."
What? His smile was gone, replaced by a slightly parted mouth, hesitant to let words free.
"I' m a country. Yeah, you heard that right. Sorry I lied all this time, it's just not common to share stuff like this to just anyone." My jaw hung loose as I stared at the ground.
He laughed without humor, and exhaled loudly.
"I'm the United States of America." I nearly choked.
"Then...everything...everything you've fought for...everything you've fought against..." He nodded.
"Yeah. It's my own people." He laughed bitterly.
He explained to me everything that night. About how his older brother (Arthur Kirkland, AKA England) and himself fought against each other in the American Revolution, about how he had tried to stop something like this from happening, and about personified nations.
The first thing that crossed my mind was this:
It was breaking him.
America was being broken down by his own people.
A few nights ago, I heard him coughing unnaturally, and I asked if he was alright. He shrugged it off, saying that everyone coughs and about how cold it was.
The nights after that I heard him coughing in his tent.
America was a people, who were once fighting for the same thing, now dying for a different cause. America was a nation.
America was Al.
The man I loved was Al.
"I'm sorry I brought you through all this." He sighed wearily, staring into the lantern.
"Your brother didn't want you to go through this, even though he had a feeling you would. That John, always talking about how different you were from everyone else. I remember when he bumped his head on the stump." He laughed silently.
"Yeah. He was a good guy. He really cared about you. 'Last wish was for you to be happy and safe, and being proud of who you were." I clutched the locket that hung from my neck since I first came.
"'Said that if I ever met you, that I'd have to keep you from crying. Heroes don't break promises." His old smile returned.
I stood from my seat.
"I don't care what he says." He looked at me, shocked.
"What?"
"I don't care what John says, about me being happy and safe. If you're still standing, I'll live." Those were words I never thought I could say.
"Still, I can't break my promise." I swallowed.
"Some promises were meant to be broken."
"That's not how it works, Mary."
It was then I realized our faces were only inches apart. And we were still coming closer.
My voice came out as hardly a whisper.
"Al...I love you." Our noses touched.
"Stop that." His fingers reached to wipe the tears from my eyes.
"I already promised that I'd make you happy."
Then we kissed.
I had faith in him whenever the battle would begin. Since the day I met him, I knew he wasn't the type who died so easily.
I was never afraid.
I wasn't afraid to be with him for the rest of my life.
Seeing him just standing there, there wasn't anything I was afraid of. It was like...all barriers of fear ha broken away. As we deepened the kiss, I brought my shaky hands to his head, brushing my fingers through the golden hair I loved so much. Who knew if his eyes were open? Mine were closed.
If I was going to die, I was going to live the time I have left to the fullest.
What he had said earlier changed some things. Some things about how I thought his past went by, some things about how he might perish if the Confederacy took over.
One thing didn't change.
I still lived to make him happy.
I still lived to make him smile.
I remember the day the Civil War ended. Al told me he watched them signing the treaty at Appotamox in Virginia.
Al was going to live. And live well, I knew.
His smile couldn't get any bigger that day, celebrating with the others. And he looked all handsome in his formal uniform, too, during the military ball.
With the money I had gained (quite more than I realized) I dressed myself up and bought a new gown. Red, white, and blue. For a unified America, for Al's favorite colors.
There were a lot more prettier girls than me. He could've picked any of them, battering their fans and blinking rapidly. Even with a new pretty dress, I didn't stand out much.
When it was time for the dance to begin, I hurried away from the middle of the room.
"Mary! MARY!" His hand touched my shoulder.
He was pouting, like a little boy who got upset if he didn't get what he wanted right away. One arm was reached forward, as if to ask me of something,
"Yes?" He couldn't really be-!
"Look, I don't want to do this either. Heroes are supposed to make the girl happy, right? Well, what do I do? Heroes are supposed to listen to what his superiors tell him to do, but-" I sighed and put a finger to his lips.
"I don't mind." Grinning, he took my hand in his, and we made our way to the middle.
After the first kiss, I begged Al to teach me. To teach me how to dance. Being a little girl, all I did was help out on the farm and do household work, and not enough time nor money to be taught such things. I really wanted to, though.
We started with a few steps, hands interlocked. Feeling his hand against mine, I felt nothing could make me stumble.
After a few hours, it was early morning and I didn't want this to end. Al promised me we would do more later if I really wanted to that bad.
So we did, bringing us to this.
Everything that had happened...Father and John passing away in battle...entering the war to become a nurse...falling in love with Al...
It all led to this.
So many things in my life had changed. The farm wasn't there anymore, replaced by a factory. Father and John were up in that gorgeous place in the sky. My days as a nurse seemingly ended with the end of the war.
"Uh, Mary? Your hands...don't get me wrong, I love everything about you...but..." I gasped, realizing how tightly I held his.
"I'm sorry. It's just..." My feet, which were moving to the rhythm of the song, felt heavier and heavier in these heeled shoes.
"Al, where are you going to go?"
"There's still a lot of things to patch up, like the governments. I still have a way to go to become a country like them back in Europe." Right. People in the south were struggling to rebuild farms, homes, and towns destroyed by battles.
"Are you going to change?" I asked suddenly. Al didn't answer for a while, bowing as the dance ended and leading me towards the moonlit balcony outside, where no one stood because we left before the second dance began.
Maybe that's what I wanted all this time. Everything was slipping away, changing and turning into something new.
Maybe I wanted something to stay the same forever, as impossible as it sounds.
Just looking at this whole wide world, I learned that nothing stays the same. Nations warred, groups of people intermixed with another. Kingdoms fell, empires rose.
That's reality, isn't it?
He embraced me, burying his face in my hair.
"You said you weren't much of a girl to look at, right? Not to me. Unlike all the others who've learned of who I am, you accepted it. What's more, you said you would never leave me." Pulling away, his face saddened.
I wasn't immortal like he was. I was going to die, one way or another.
"So? Even if I die, I'll be happy for it." I smiled, holding his face in my hands.
"I'll be happy because I made you happy." Smiling softly, he took me into another kiss.
"Same here."
At that moment, I found it.
Something that I couldn't lose, something that wouldn't change.
And for once in a very long time, I felt the warmth come back in my spirit.
2012
"This Ridge-San...were the two of you acquainted during the war?" Kiku examined the cursive writing, scrawled on a yellow piece of paper, which was nicely preserved being in the hands of someone like America.
"AGH! Where 'd you find that?" Al panicked, grabbing the paper away from a surprised Japan.
"Forgive me. I didn't know the letter was private." He bowed.
"Eh, no, you don't have to." He said. Even he was aware of how far Japan could go into asking for forgiveness.
"This isn't the only letter. I have plenty back home, sitting in my library or something." Japan nodded, understanding.
"Yet you carry that one around in your pocket." Al, who was turning around to leave the meeting room, froze in place.
"Yeah." Afraid that he would ask any more, he ran from the room.
Japan was left, sitting on the table, watching the exit.
There are some things that we never wanted to change, but we can't do anything about it.
Such was a nation's life.
America closed his eyes, recalling everything that happened to Mary.
The two of them knew that they couldn't get married. That was just strange, considering their positions. Besides, they didn't need a ring or a vow to know their undying love for each other.
She passed away at the age of fifty due to an illness. Al found her dead in her bed the next morning.
Dead, but with a smile across her lips.
He didn't cry at the funeral. He knew it wouldn't make anything better. After all, she was the one who told him that he was meant to smile.
So he did.
And guess what?
He never stopped.
Folding the letter back into his pocket, he drove off.
Keep on smiling, and up there, she'll smile too.
He laughed, hand on the steering wheel.
In no way had Mary been a plain girl.
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