Hey look it's another persons first fanfic on the site! Lets go read it and poke fun! Yeah- please don't. I won't plead for you forgiveness in grammtical mistakes, but I'd appreciate a thoughtful review or two.
Sadly, I do not own Hetalia, or else you'd be blasted with historical brass tacks every time you try to breath.
Alfred was always a strange one. Visits to my manor in the colonies would always yield unusual conversations.
In the spring of 1762, as I arrive on the nice Virginian Manor that was kindly given to me by the King, I notice a lack of tackle-happy blonde nations. So, as I knew the trouble Alfred could get himself in, I asked a few of the workers here where he might be. The first few had no clue, but the cook did. Classic.
"Well I guess he ain't really due till' six o'clock..." The portly woman turned and wiped a bit of chicken grease off her hands.
"What? What's does that mean? Where is he?" Can't these people give me a bit more respect? Or at least respect for my- their language…
"He'd be where he always is, Master. He says itsa' big waterfall by the border. Don't know what he means by it. I wasn't aware of any falls in the area." She frowns, and then continues. "You should know he's out right now, Master, hes' always talking bout' how proud of the fact the these falls are in his land. What's he mean by that, ya' think?" She cast a reproachful glance in my direction before turning to continue carving the chicken she'd been working on. I was slightly shocked by the rude gesture. But still. Other things to do.
Niagara? Really, Alfred? He knows I was going to visit this week. I mentioned it in letters. Repeatedly. He probably planed this, so I would have to trek across three damned colonies so fetch him. I could always wait for him to come back… No. I'll just go.
An hour or two later, with the roar of the falls ringing in my ears, I spot Alfred. He siting in the most reckless spot he could have managed. Right on the edge of the falls, in one of the only dry spots on the cool grey ledge. Water rushed by before hurling it's self over the edge, seemingly desperate to be on its way.
"Alfred!" I shout over the falls. "What the bloody hell possessed you to come out here?" I wait for him to turn around and spring at me with that terrifyingly optimistic glow in his face, but it doesn't come. He just sits there, staring at the rushing water. I wait a few moments before calling again. "Alfred!"
"Why do we have borders, Arthur?" Well, I can honestly say I did not expect him to say that.
"They're to keep the humans from bothering each other, and causing problems. Like wars." I respond, barely hearing his question over the falls, regardless.
"This land doesn't look like a land ripped and burned by wars. It looks like a land where people didn't care what others though, and lived their lives in peace. There are no empty battlefields, or masses of dead from long wars. What does that mean? Why am I different from you?" He says again in that quite, out-of-character voice again.
"That's because the people that used to be hear didn't live right, they didn't have opinions. But we're taking care of that, I'm getting them out of here. It'll be all yours soon." I answered, Alfred still not sparing me a glance.
"Why is there a border here? Why can't I see Canada anymore? I mean, he's barely different from me. Our people wouldn't fight. We're brother countries. He's my brother. I want him back. I'm lonely." He says, I can't see his face, but I know what his expression would say.
"The border is to keep people from claiming what isn't theirs, and to know who their friends are." I say, taking a step towards the Alfred. "They might not like your people, but even if they did, humans take comfort in the border keeping unwanted people from coming into their land. The same way the Frogs won't cross my border, because it's there, telling them that they are not wanted." Alfred is quite for a moment.
"There isn't a border there, Arthur. There's a sea. The English Channel is not something someone can accidently walk across when the get lost. But what is this? Me and Canada are the same place, we exist in the same spot, but we're different, we are an enemy, viewed differently, not the same. I am the land. But my existence is decided by a piece of paper, deciding where I begin and where I am, whether what I was yesterday is the same as today." Another silent moment. "How can I live like that? Tomorrow I could be written away in ink, my own existence stolen away from me. With just a piece of paper and a quill. How can Canada and I even exist separately? His blood and mine start in the same places, flow out into the same seas. Our people were originally the same. But now we are so different. He is Canada, a French colony. I am America, the British colonies. What happened? We have an ocean in between us. You and me. We are irrevocable separate. But I am Canada, Canada is me. But we are not the same…" I waited for him to continue. He didn't. I had nothing to say to this. I know what he was going through, but I hadn't felt since the Scottish Wars of Independence. I could say nothing that would explain to him why his was here and what he meant. He would figure it out for himself, eventually.
"Alfred." The roar of the nearly forgotten falls crushed my voice, but I knew Alfred heard me. He finally turned and saw me. His face was blank, and his eyes were clouded over and had an almost sad look to them. But, then, I think he finally saw me. His eyes jumped into the bright sparkle they usually carry, and the blank look dropped off his face and was quickly replaced by his signature glowing optimistic expression.
"Iggy!" He stood and ran at me. "You're back! When did you get here, did you come out here for me, this is a long way from the manor, everyone there is probably missing me, they're all really nice people the cook makes me lotsa' food and its really tasty '-" As his voice steadily got faster, he hugged me harder, and as much as this voice was an improvement from the one he was exhibiting a few minutes earlier, I quite enjoyed breathing.
"Alfred! Would you bloody get off of me and explain yourself?" At my words he quickly let go and stepped back. Even though he blatantly ignored my question.
"Iggy! I'm so glad you're back." Yes, I was. But, was he?
The French And Indian War/Seven Years war, was a war between England and France, but with many allies taking part all over the world. Many Indian tribes took part, and were pitted against each other. A year after this takes place, The Treaty of Paris 1763 is signed, giving most most of Canada to the British. Only a decade after, the fighting at Lexington and Concord takes place, plunging the Colonies into war with Britain.