1672-
A small figure opened her dark almond eyes for the first time. Her hair was a few shades lighter than her eyes, and seemed to glow in the bright sun. Her short figure wore an elegant dress-like robe which covered all the skin from her neck and under, save for her tanned hands, which peeked out from the large folds of the long sleeves. The robe was an ivory color and had a large orange and yellow over-robe hung on top of it. Patterns of suns, stars and snakes wove their way around vine on the front. The little being rose to her feet at took a few steps forward.
The distant sounds of horse hooves thumping across the dusty ground caught the attention of the small girl. She turned, and saw figures approaching in the distance on horseback. A regal looking man lead the way, and he started slowing down when he caught sight of the small child standing in the desert. The men following him copied his movements and eventually came into a trot with him a few feet in front of the girl.
"What is your name, girl?" The man asked sternly, staring down at her in disapproval.
"Morocco"
1777-
The girl, now appearing to be in her teenage years, stood next to a new man, this one seeming a little more lenient. He turned towards her. "Zahrah, did you hear? Apparently last year, Britain's Thirteen Colonies became independent, and is now calling himself "The United States of America".
Morocco's eyes glittered. "Really? We should become friends! According to Spain there is lots of land out there that has very nice resources. Do you think we could?"
The king smiled, "Of course, Morocco."
1822-
"Sir!" Morocco called. "Look at all these cool things that Lovino showed me!" She held up a beautiful painting. The King smiled. "That's wonderful, Morocco, why don't you try to get him to teach you some painting techniques.
1844-
Morocco lay sobbing at the feet of a blond with shoulder-length hair wearing an elegant blue robe that seemed to be flowing in an invisible wind.
"Come on, you're mine now." He said, calmly. "We need to get you out of those atrocious clothes."
"No!" Morocco exclaimed angrily, glaring at the older man through her tears. "You may have taken my freedom, France, but you can't take my customs!"
France looked down at the girl beneath him in exasperation. "Fine, I'll allow you to keep your customs, but you must listen to what I say and accommodate any of my people who wish to live hear. We will control all trading, and major political decisions."
Morocco nodded miserably, knowing that she was lucky to be able to keep that much.
1859-
France looked critically at the cold Morocco was suffering from, which was brought on by a bad economy. "Morocco," He said, sounding slightly worried. "Maybe you should try to expand your trading routes and relations with other countries, you have good land for farming, and mines for salt and copper, but perhaps instead of holding onto your resources, in case of a famine, you should start trading for money. Your people are suffering."
Morocco nodded her head miserably. "Oui, Papa."
1894-
Morocco bounced happily. " Papa, Papa! Regardez! I have so many new friends! Italy, Spain, America! Yay!"
France nodded, smiling, "Well done, ma fille. You have grown." and indeed she had, instead of the young teenager she had stayed as for the last hundred years, Morocco seemed to be in her later teens, looking to be around 20 or so.
1904-
"Non! Morocco is my responsibility! You will not have her!" France slammed his hands on the table, effectively silencing Germany. France glared sternly at the blonde country, who had dared to propose such an preposterous idea. His eyes seemed to be shooting lasers at the younger country. Spain sat next to France, a scowl set on his usually kind face.
"Morocco would benefit from having me as a guardian. I am much more reliable than some french pervertieren!" Germany growled., causing France to narrow his eyes.
"England and France have both agreed that I will be her protectorate with France, stay out of my business you salchichas tonto!" Spain barked, his mouth set in a firm line.
"Alright, if that is your response, I will just have to use other methods to have Morocco under my authority." Was Germany's response before standing up swiftly and walking towards the door. Just before he left he swiftly turned around, "Germany will have control over Morocco." before swiftly leaving.
1930-
France lay in bed, still suffering from Germany's vicious attacks. Morocco walked in, eyes filled with sadness, but a fierce determination shining in their depths.
"Chere père, you have suffered much in this war. My people have begun to get restless, and wish independence from you and Spain. Please grant their wish."
France looked at the nation that he had housed for the last 86 years with eyes filled with sadness. His blue eyes watered, his little girl- his petite fille wanted to leave him. No, he would not allow it to happen, she was safe with him, he controlled her military, his superior battle strategies kept her safe. Spain was her only other main ally, and without him, there was a chance that Spain would leave her. Was that what she wanted? To be alone, with no protection from countries like Algeria, who was forever threatening her borders?
"Non, I will not allow it, you are safe with me, stay."
1953-
"France! This is an outrage! How could you do this to me, your peu une!" Morocco barged into the room, glaring at the romantic country. France looked up from his paperwork.
"Morocco- Zahrah. Please, listen to your papa, I know what I'm doing. You cannot have that man as your leader. He is a bad influence on you, and is trying to separate us. I had to replace him, he gave me no choice."
France's daughter glared at him."Don't think that using my human name is going to change anything! I want to be free, you're breathing down my neck. I need space, space you obviously won't give me. I'll tell Spain about what you're doing, he won't be happy." She warned, her voice rising.
"Spain agrees with me, you need to be controlled. You are too reckless." France snapped back, losing his patience.
1956-
"I'm sorry, France. I need to be free, and you won't allow that." Morocco looked at her father figure straight in the eye. A stack of papers sat before her on the table. Across from the rebelling country sat France. He looked weak and tired, his form was slumped over the papers.
"Please, reconsider this, I love y-"
"I know, but we both know you can't control both me and Algeria with such a weak army that you have right now. Spain has agreed to let me become independent later this year. You've lost." Morocco cut him off. "I'm sorry, mon père, you are special to me, but your reign can not go on." She signed the papers in front of her, and across from the soon-to-be independent country, France did the same.
Lucky's corner.~
Hi people! I randomly decided to make an OC for Hetalia. I've tried writing stories, but I an't focus on stuff for long. So I'm going to publish a series of one-shot kinda things. Umm... you'll get it if you keep watching. So yeah. The OC I made is one of Morocco, since I've had a simple interest in Morocco for a few years. The culture is very interesting, I absolutely love foreign cultures, they are so different from America's... even the UK's is dissimilar, it's absolutely intriguing... anyway. I'd love it if you reviewed!
^^!
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story except my portrayal of Morocco.