A.N.:

Here is another one-shot me and CelticWolfSong made for a friend of ours named:

a1uM1nuM448- Ivan Braginski

We hope you enjoy! We own nothing :)

Revolutionary War

~*~*~*~England's Point of View~*~*~*~

Rain…that was all I could feel, the icy liquid blinding me, pelting down like bullets of water that were sending violent chills up my spine. My messy blonde hair was drenched, the water was plastering down on my head while a few unruly spikes that always insisted on pointing every which way, were falling down. My emerald eyes were full of pain and sadness, trying to hold back the tears trying to reach the surface of my pale skin, in poorer health now from the ruthless war, which was now flushed with anger.

Across from me stood a younger man than me, soaking wet just as I. The face was painfully familiar, and as mine was, twisted with hate and anger. The man, no, the boy, was America.

'He's not going to become independent! He has no idea who he is up against, the stupid fool!' I thought, clenching my hand around the old, wet musket. Such furious thoughts ran through my head, just enough to bring my hands to a quake, holding the musket very un-securely, 'America is just a mere boy; he can't survive five minutes by himself let alone defeat me! A child couldn't do that...he could never beat me…' I began to remember events in the past when America was just a small boy…a small, cute little boy…

~*~*~*~*~*~

Memories flooded through my mind, causing me to shake. It hurt to remember, but it was all I could think of, when the boy was young.
Back then I was doing some work in my library when I heard some noises and giggles coming from the study. I sighed and got up from my desk in the library and walked into the study. Upon walking into the study, I saw a tiny child on top of a cabinet, staring down at me with a huge grin. I peered up at the child nation with curious eyes, worried about the young nation as I felt my heart melt. I was so afraid of what would happen to him if he fell.

The infant child was so mischievous, he always caused trouble for me even though he was like an angel from heaven most days, and as an older, more experienced nation, it was my job to protect, to teach him what to do and what not to do. But...what if I failed? All of the other colonies had at least some idea of what they were doing when I was caring for them. Some even had distinct, ancient cultures that needed no help at all to be civilized and proper. Parenting was difficult task, considering that America was a stubborn and mischievous little nation who always seemed to be winding up in the strangest of places.

Finally I had enough of dealing with it, "America! Get down from there! Do you want to get hurt and break your neck?" I yelled in a bit of a panic, seeing America perched precariously on top of the massive oak bookshelf.

The boy giggled, looking down at me with innocent eyes, "But I like it up here!" he said, kicking his legs back and forth causing books to move and hit the back of the shelf.

My eyebrows furrowed together in concern while America laughed, bouncing up and down on the unsteady piece of furniture. Just as I predicted, the shelf started to move back and forth, inevitably causing America to lose his balance and fall.

"America!" I yelled, dropping my volume of classical Shakespeare and rushing to America's aid. Luckily, America had landed safely in my outstretched arms. Fear was evident in his wide blue eyes while his body was shaking like a frightened animal.

"You're such an idiot America! You could have been badly hurt! What would have happened to you if I hadn't been here to save you?" I lectured to him, my voice rising with every word in panic and fury.

Tears collected in America's wide eyes. He slowly began to cry, sobbing into my shirt. Realizing I had been too harsh, I held the boy in a gentle, comforting embrace. I didn't mean to snap at him like that, I only meant to teach him a lesson. Sometimes, I needed to be a bit nicer and less strict.

"Shh, America, I won't do that again, I promise. I promise never to hurt you again..." I whispered, moving him back and forth in my arms as he fell asleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The second memory that flashed before me was when America had seen a ghost again one night…

It was a late night in our home and I was working on some paperwork after France, the bloody frog, had tried to get me to marry him. All of a sudden, a shriek echoed from America's bedroom, and I quickly dropped what was in my hands and made my way over to America's room, seeing what was wrong with the young boy at that hour of night. America was about physically ten then, so he had grown quite a bit, ending up to be far more trouble than anyone had anticipated. However, it wasn't the time then to dwell on America's behavior; it was more about helping him with whatever his problem was.

I entered America's room to find him sitting bolt upright in his bed, shaking like a leaf in a gale while crying his poor little eyes out. When he saw me, he jumped up and latched onto my shoulder, trapping me with a vice-like grip around my waist. I slowly returned the hug.

"America, was it the ghosts again?" I asked him softly, rubbing his back.

America nodded, burying his face into my chest. In response to that, I lifted America up tenderly and laid him back in bed. "I'll stay here with you, so that the ghosts can't come," I said, trying to comfort him so that he would calm down and fall asleep.

"Will you stay up with me all night?" America asked tearfully through the sniffles.

I nodded. "All night," I promised to him, kissing the top of his head. America smiled and snuggled into my chest, eventually falling asleep at last.

~*~*~*~*~*~

And the final memory…the day America…the day he wanted his independence…

Furiously, I stood up, slamming my hands down on the mahogany table. "This is not tolerable, America!" I growled, an angry fire blazing in my emerald eyes.

The teen looked back at me with a cool certainty in his blue eyes. "Your taxes are unreasonable, England. What we did was the only way we could make ourselves heard; destroying your precious tea," he said with a cold laugh. The laugh faded to seriousness as America said his next words.

"England, I demand freedom."

I blinked rapidly and did a double-take, staring incredulously at his colony. "You demand what?!" I repeated, shock filling my words like tea had filled Boston Harbor. There was no way that America had actually just...asked for, no...demanded freedom! To ask was bad enough, but to demand from me, the British Empire? This was unthinkable, absurd!

"Absolutely not America, you aren't ready to take on the responsibilities of a nation, you're just a child!" I blustered, stumbling over my words a little. Why did it hurt so much to have this demand made of him? America was just a colony…wasn't he?

There was absolution and no trace of compromise or friendliness in the sapphire eyes of the American. "England, I didn't ask. This is a demand for my people, and we will have freedom," America looked me squarely in the eye, showing sudden maturity, "I'm not going to stand down without a fight. I will fight you for my freedom, England. I'm not your little brother anymore."

With those final words, America turned on his heel and left, leaving me with a crushed heart that will slowly heal with hate. Those words had stung my heart and left me there to think of battle plans to show the child what it means to demand something from me…

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was this hate that boiled in my veins as I stood in the pouring rain, aiming the worn musket at my ex-younger brother. The rain made it impossible for the flint to produce a spark, not to mention I was out of ammunition, but that was of no consequence. I still had my bayonet…I hadn't lost this war yet.

It was time to end this nonsense, this little "independence" talk. It's time for America to see what it means to be a nation and not some kid that thinks it's so easy being one that they could just declare their independence and call it a day. He needed to learn this; he needs to know what it means to defy me, England.

~*~*~*~America's Point of View~*~*~*~

Everything he's done for me…the way he clothed me, fed me, looked after my well being, fought for me, and many more as well as a good friend for me every day that I grew up…but now it's time for that to change… today I want be considered as an equal, not as America, the little brother of England, I want to be known as America, the lover…

If only England would understand my feelings for him…he should have known why I chose him, I hinted it for years, yet he never understood. Why? Why won't he see it? If he can see flying bunnies, fairies, pirates and unicorns…why can't he see how much I love him?

The rain poured down on our heads, soaking our clothes and the ground, making it hard to walk on it. Right in front of me stood England in his red outfit with a white sash going to the top right to the bottom left. He had a gun in his hands pointing down toward the ground. He and I were panting deeply as the rain fell upon us.

With my gun raised to his chest, I called to him that I wanted my independence. I told him that I wasn't a child, nor his little brother too…but I couldn't tell him the rest…I couldn't tell him I loved him and he never cared enough to see it. I had enough of trying to catch the attention of a man who didn't care for me. I finished off my speech with me saying that I was now independent from him.

When England raised his gun, I thought he was going to pull the trigger, but instead he ran to me and slashed at my gun. My gun flew out of my hands and landed to the left of me. I stared at England, listening as he told me I was an idiot and I never followed anything through to the end. My men readied their guns to shoot at England as I stood there, waiting for him to make the next move. As he was about to fire, he lowered the gun and stared into my eyes.

"There's no way I can shoot you…" he started off, "I can't…" England dropped the gun and fell to his knees, crying. "Why? Damn it why! It's not fair!" he sobbed.

"You know why…" I replied, looking down at him with sorrowful eyes.

I remembered a memory of England, looking down at me with cheerful eyes while holding out his hand to me saying, "Let's go home." Being a young child, I smiled and took his hand, not knowing the feeling I would yet to have for him.

"What happened?" I asked him, "I remember when you were great…" I finished rudely, just standing there watching as he cried on the muddy ground.

My troops and I turned to leave England there to cry on the muddy bank. I don't remember how long I left him there, but when I came back, he was still there. I don't know why I went back there; maybe it was because some part of me still loved him and wanted to see how badly I had hurt him.

Either way, I kneeled down in front of him and tilted his head so that he was looking me in the eyes. He looked at me with sad, broken eyes that tore my heart apart. I slowly leaned down and kissed him softly, wiping away his tears from his face. I pulled away and looked him in the eyes again. This time they held a more sincere, confused look.

I smiled and gently whispered, "This is goodbye, England," I placed my head against his, "I hope that one day you'll realize how much I love you."

And with that, I got up and left England there, confused as to what had just happened. After I got a good ways away, I started to cry. I couldn't believe I did this to England, the person I loved...no, love. That's right! I love England...but...he doesn't love me back.

I slowly wiped away my tears and continued down the road to my home, shutting the door behind me, walking to my room and falling onto my bed. I fell asleep that night, crying myself gently to sleep, thinking about the man I love...

A.N.:

Thank you for reading, we hoped you liked it! England was done by CWS and I did America's.

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