Uchiha Sasuke-kun: Hello Faithful Readers! I humbly apologize for being a lazy a** and not posting a new story or chapter in XX amount of years. Please don't kill me. I love you long time?
I'm writing this story for :iconivyandtwine: and any Hetalia and Nyotalia fangirls out there. If you are a Hetalia
or Nyotalia fanboy, you are certainly welcome...but this fic deals with heavy amounts of turbulent emotions and
stuff.
That being said, if you've ever read , their new "De-Textbook" explains the myth behind most of our
American history. The Revolutionary war, and everything. America was being a spoiled brat. And that 'fighting back
against the oppressing tyranny' wasn't how it went down. In fact, the British weren't even aware of the discontent
in the colonies. All England really cared about was that we were safe, fed, and happy. And in fact, England looked
the other way while a fledgling America never paid taxes. We had taxes but England never really cared about
enforcing it. So they let us off like an overindulging parent. And do you know WHY England was never informed of
the colonists' displeasure? Guess who was the representative who reported directly to King George? Benjamin
Franklin. Yep. And he got damn good perks for being that representative. And the only reason the tax on tea was
required was because America had picked a fight with Ohio, which at that time, belonged to the French. England
told them not to, but teenage Alfred did anyway...and as America's protector, Arthur was forced to step in and
waste their military resources to win this fight for Alfred's sake. So their economy was demolished thanks to our
bullheadedness. The tea tax was to help replenish Britain's economy. Since we dragged them into our messes, Iggy
was suffering. And again...I repeat. They did NOT know we were unhappy on our side of the pond.
DISCLAIMERS: (c) belongs to...whoever owns or started the site.
De-Textbook(c) belongs to and Barnes & Noble...i think...
don't sue me, plz...i am broke as f***...
Also Axis Powers Hetalia and Nyotalia belong to Himaruya Hidekaz
WARNINGS: DARK THEMES AND LOTS AND LOTS OF SWEAR WORDS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
SOME THINGS SORRY CAN'T FIX: CHAPTER ONE
July of 1776:
Arthur sighed. his muscles sore, and his bones aching from the war he'd
just finished recently with Francis. Despite his country's economic plunge
due to aforementioned war, he was pining to see his charge (whom he loved
dearly), though he was bruised and bloody from his wounds. It didn't help
that America had picked said fight. But he didn't care. Emily was happy,
and he couldn't wait to see her again. He missed her like nothing he'd ever
felt before. All was going well, and he had just finished his rounds before
retiring to his room. The truth was, he had been spending all of his spare
time, making something for his dearest ward. Emily would love it. At least,
she hoped she would. He'd worked really hard on it. Today would be a
wonderful day, most assuredly.
Or not...
Suddenly, a page knocked on the doors to his innermost room to deliver an
urgent message to him. Ripping open his summons, he tilted his head. King
George wished to see him at once. Confused and weary, Arthur hobbled on his
crutches to the palace, to meet his boss in the throne room.
"Odd...his highness usually invites me to his drawing room for things like
this." Arthur mused as he wandered the labrynthian halls of his household,
disconcerted.
When he was finally granted his audience with the King, he walked toward
the throne with his head held high. It wouldn't do to show his weakness and
fatigue in front of his king. Stiff upper lip, as they say. As he went
forward and made his way up to kiss George's ring, he noticed something
that made him even more uneasy. His majesty does NOT look happy. To tell
the truth, King George looked furious. Positively perturbed, actually...
Clearing his throat, he raised his eyes to meet his monarch.
"Permission to speak, milord?" He inquired, not sure he really wanted to
know the answer. Ever since Emily had thrown a temper tantrum after they
pushed The Tea Act of 1773, she'd been mouthy and downright impudent, when
it came to his majesty. He silently begged the good Lord, that Emily hadn't
decided to write one of her famous letters. She had a way of rubbing his
majesty the wrong way, when she was feeling particularly insolent. Arthur
had been able to calm his highness before, when it came to her, so he
desperately hoped he could again.
King George frowned and slammed his fist on the armrest of his throne.
"What is this sudden meeting about? Usually, you reserve an appointment."
And King George proceeded to shove a scrap of parchment in the Nation's
face. "Your CHARGE is the problem! The COLONIES sent this in the post! It
arrived, just this morning!" He roared angrily.
'Oh SHYTE'... but it was worse than he had ever expected. MUCH MUCH worse.
His life was about to be turned upside down...Not to mention, his HEART.
Swearing he could feel his heart stop, Arthur grabbed the crinkled paper,
and he at first, hoped it was simply a rudely worded prank letter. As
usual...or at most, another shipment of tea tossed into one of her harbors.
But as he read the elegant handwriting, he felt his heart sink. What on
Earth?!
"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal,
that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights,
that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."
Happiness? Unalienable rights? She felt...oppressed?! This was
impossible! He'd done everything he could...and where in the bloody hell
was this coming from?! He had been assured that the Colonies were never
better! Benjamin Franklin, as the official representative, had given him
weekly letters to update Great Britain on Emily's well-being, and how she
liked or didn't like something! As he read further, his eyes welled up with
unshed tears. "It...it CAN'T be!" He barely held back the need to sob. "MY
Emily would never do such a thing! Independence?! But she's not ready!" he
unconciously made him burst out his emotion.
King George scowled. "Sir Kirkland! Contain yourself, PLEASE!" he glared,
disapprovingly.
Nodding sadly, he gritted his teeth. "She'll get herself killed. This can't
happen."
King George raised a querying brow. "Well, it appears it IS happening..."
Arthur was close to hyperventilating, but he barely restrained himself,
though he felt his heart race with worry. His whole universe was crumbling
around him. What to do, what to DO?! Oh, damn it all! And to think, he was
about to...damn it ALL! Why hadn't she said anything?! His mind kept going
back to trying to make sense of all this! Surely, her representative would
have said SOMETHING about her being so unhappy! had assured him
that everything was fine. That she was happy and healthy! Standing, he
bowed again, feeling lightheaded and nauseous. "Sir. I request that I be
allowed to read this over and be given the night to decide the best course
of action." He managed weakly.
Once Arthur arrived back at his estate, the servants noticed something was
wrong with their master. He had refused to eat, he wouldn't let anyone near
him since he got home, and he even refused to come out of his room for tea!
In fact, he even refused to have tea brought to his rooms! It was 9pm now,
and all was quiet, the servants finally asleep, no idea of the turmoil that
was building in their Nation...they had no clue that all was not well. In
Sir Arthur's chambers, there was a muffled sound of sobbing. At his desk, a
defeated, heartbroken England was still reading over the letter she'd sent.
His heart crumbling as he read the 'Declaration of Independence' she'd sent
without a single regret. Did she really think of him like a cruel tyrant?
The tears wouldn't stop. Dammit, how foolish he'd been! How pathetic he
was! Francis was right! He was nothing...
His room was trashed, and his things strewn about everywhere. But unlike
himself, he didn't care anymore. His life had disentigrated in front of his
eyes. With one piece of damned parchment, and some words she'd no doubt
been ruminating on. Emily purposefully used poor grammar to irritate him,
so for her to be so formal...it was over. His life was over.
And clutched tightly in his hand, was the embossed invitation he'd planned
to give her for her next birthday. It had been delicately designed with her
favorite colors, and it was scented with white and red rose oils. So that
she could smell it and think of him. In his other hand, he delicately
cradled a beautiful diamond ring. As expensive as it was lovely. The
engraving read: To The One Joy in My Life. I Love You, My Angel.
He'd intended to...ah blast! What was the use in asking now?! His tears
fell to stain the corner of the page, as he stared at the already tear-
stained 'Declaration'. And to think, he'd begun to think...that she
actually cared for him. Looking over the ring he'd had custom-crafted for
her, he felt his heart shatter. If only he could fix things...DAMN that
infernal Franklin and his lies! Had he known how unhappy she was, he
would've...he could've...
Wait...COULD he have prevented this?
No...he was pathetic, and nothing could change that fact.
"Bloody fucking hell, you foolish git! What were you thinking! You can't
even keep her happy, how could you ever keep her?!" His jeers at himself
failed to help as he chastised himself for being so obtuse. His resolve
broke,, and his restraint vanishing like a phantom mist, his cheeks heated
with the tears that scorched his very soul, this day. This was the worst
day of his entire life. How could he ever hope to recover from this? He
finally let go, and his cheeks were flowing with the waterfall that had
been held inside. This was far more than betrayal. Far more than
heartbreak. This was true despair...a sorrow unending. But some things, he
thought...perhaps a stiff upper lip couldn't cure. His heart was shattered
into jagged, tiny pieces. This, he'd never recover from. Not emotionally,
at least. And as he stood to hobble toward his bed to cry himself to sleep
again, he had a mind to toss the ring into the wastebasket. But after
trying, he realized he couldn't, and collapsed onto the covers to drown in
his tears.
And on the desk, lay the note. The decorated invitation he'd been meaning
to offer her for a few years now. But each time he tried, he'd lost his
nerve. It read:
My dearest Emily,
From the moment I saw you, my heart melted. God knows, I thought I'd lost
you already when Francis had his eye on you. I apologize for the brevity of
this invitation, but I have never felt like this before, and I find myself
befuddled. Women are not in my line of expertise, and though I am assured
by your representative that you are jovial and healthy, I still feel it
isn't enough. No one has shown me as much love as you do. I thank you for
that, and I wish to offer you my *scribbled out words* my hand in marriage.
If you'd take me, that is. I can only hope you'd feel the same way, but I
told myself to, at the very least, try. So would you...
Would you marry me?
Be my bride, that is?
With ALL my Love, Darling
Arthur Kirkland
And the ring he'd planned to offer her stayed clutched to his heart. And to
this day, he has it carefully looped onto a golden chain that he wears
beneath his clothes. Pressed against his heart always.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, a blonde maiden was
standing in front of a mirror, her own rosy cheeks stained with tears of
blood. Timidly, she broke down in front of the reflective surface. All
she'd ever wanted was his attention! And to think, he'd ignored every
correspondence she'd sent with her representative of the Crown, Benjamin
Franklin.
Emily felt betrayed, and neglected. Her petticoats had been ripped off in a
rage, and her long, curly hair, delicately coifed in Arthur's favorite
style on her, had been let down into a ragged mess... Now, in just her
undergarments, she fell to her knees, sobbing in front of her mirror.
"What's WRONG with me, Iggy?! Why don't you LOVE ME?!" she screamed,
staring at her visage in the haunting mirror. But her reflection didn't
respond. It stared back at her coldly, mockingly.
With a burst of emotion and anger, of sadness and heartbreak, she slammed
her fist against her reflection's mocking smile. "Don't you just STARE at
me, you BITCH! Give me an answer! Tell me WHY!" she sobbed, her vision
blurry from angry and desperate tears of hurt.
Again, a crash was heard as the mirror cracked in a sick, demented
spiderweb under her already bloody fist.
Now, her reflection smirked darkly at her, and she could swear she heard a
chuckle, and saw a flash of red in her own eyes. Tearing at her hair, she
growled ferally in frustration and sorrow, and decided it was time for a
change...A BIG CHANGE.
A change to fit her new goal in life.
She was going to be a Nation of her own. And throw it in that damned Brit's
FACE!
Grabbing the scissors with a vigor that bordered upon madness, she sliced
and hacked at her hair until it was just touching the nape of her neck.
"DAMN YOU, ARTHUR!" she let out a demonic scream, laced with hatred, and
hopelessness...
Her cracked reflection now showed a creature not of this Earth. Darker
hair, almost greyish black, and tanner skin. Cold, red eyes that hid a fire
burning inside. He would pay. And if it was the last thing she did, she'd
make the streets of England wail with banshees, heralding the loss of their
sons and husbands. They would bleed. HE would bleed.
End Chapter One!
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