A/N: This is my first multi-chapter fic! I can hopefully update at some point in the next two weeks. I don't want to promise anything, as I'm busy with schoolwork / I'm going to Spain in little over a week. I really hope this goes well! I've never planned to write anything this long before. If you have any comments/constructive advice don't hesitate to tell me! Feedback is appreciated. This story is based on my WWII Fem USUK AU, but it's not identical. So some details are not the same as my oneshot. Very loosely historically accurate (sorry!) The story starts in 1935. Thank you!

Oh! And if there was any confusion:

Amelia = Fem America

Chapter one: A young American girl.

Amelia was ten years old and adventurous. She climbed trees and collected rocks and skipped classes. Her smile was wonderful and her hair was messy. At her young age, the world seemed easy to fit into. You needed to get a job, obviously. You needed to get married to a handsome man. You needed to retire happy. And that was it. She was at the top of a tree in her backyard and the sun was fading. The ground was dusty and dry. She lowered herself down from the tree, clambering down the branches with natural ease. The sunset was pretty. Red and orange. Amelia thudded onto the ground. A cloud of dust formed around her. She turned towards the old house and made her way back home. She ran with all the enthusiasm a ten year old girl could muster. She arrived home with a smile on her face and scuffs on her knees. Yep, she thought. Life was going to be easy. All you had to do was stay happy, no matter what. If there was one thing Amelia Jones was good at, it was staying happy.

"What's for dinner, mom?" She ran into the kitchen while asking the question. Her mother sighed and pushed some stray hairs behind her ear.

"Roast leg of lamb, Amelia." Her mother replied. "And would you please try not to get my kitchen all dirty?" Amelia looked at her scuffed knees and smiled to herself. Her mom was always so strict about dirty knees and feet in the kitchen.

"I'll have a bath after food" Her accent was thick and American. "And it sounds delicious." She just had to wait now. For some reason her mom had stopped cooking meat recently, but it looked like this was a special occasion. Amelia loved lamb. She loved beef and pork, too. Her dad always said she had a big appetite. Amelia was immensely proud of that. Her dad was handsome, she thought. Her mom had checked 'marry a handsome man' off the list. It worried Amelia that she'd never get a husband of her own. Her mother always told her that she wasn't lady-like. Because of how much she ate and how much mud she came home with on her knees. Because she had a dead bug collection in her room. That she'd never get a boyfriend, because boys only liked quiet, feminine girls. She supposed that she had no chance of getting a husband if she was never even going to get a boyfriend. Amelia looked at her dirty hands and bare feet. Who cared? If she was a boy she'd probably like a girl with a sense of adventure. Someone like herself. She smiled and kicked the floor. She walked over to the wooden staircase in the center of the hallway and sat on the third step. She waited.

Amelia's house was big and white. It had wooden paneling on the outer walls and a large porch. The roof was brown and there were flowers in the front yard. Amelia loved her house. It had lots of rooms and wooden floors. She loved the empty feeling of being a three person family in a large house. It wasn't lonely. It felt refreshing. There was grass all around the house. Although due to the late summer climate and Amelia's lust for adventure; there wasn't much of a lawn to speak of. What was left of the grass was littered with summer daisies. It was patchy to say the least. Amelia got up from the wooden step. She started towards the front porch when she heard her mother call.

"Amelia! Dinner's ready, come and eat with us!" Amelia instantly turned towards the kitchen and walked in. Her father was sitting in the chair he always sat in. Furthest away from the door. Amelia's mother was still sorting out the lamb. Amelia sat in the chair next to her father and kicked her feet. Her mother sat down after placing the food on the table.

"Honey, this food looks amazing." Her mother smiled.

"Thanks. We haven't had much meat recently, so I hope it's great." She looked at the food in front of her and smiled. "We should say grace." The family nodded.

"For what we are about to receive, we are grateful. Guide us through this rough time. Please keep us safe. Through Christ we pray. Amen." Amelia never took much notice of the prayers her mother said before food. They didn't matter that much to her. But she couldn't help but pick up on the fact that her mother never usually asked to keep them safe. She didn't understand that part at all.

After dinner her mother made Amelia take a bath. It took a lot of persuading. Amelia didn't want to wash the dust off. She'd just get dirty another day. Tomorrow, even. In Amelia's eyes there was no point in bathing if you were going to get up the next day and get dirty again. Tomorrow was Sunday, anyway. But Amelia's mother insisted that she had a bath. Amelia's father agreed. Amelia complained for as long as she could. She eventually agreed to do it if her dad was the one in the bathroom with her. Amelia knew it was wrong to have a favorite parent. She loved her mom for sure. She just didn't understand why she was constantly nagged and told off. She could tell it wasn't something parent's had to do, because her dad never nagged her. Well, he did a bit. But her father was on her side for most things. He'd stick up for Amelia when she skipped school. He thought that Amelia didn't conform because of her creativity; not because she was a bad girl. He'd let Amelia off if she came back to the house past her curfew. He always had a smile on his face and he was always kind. So Amelia gave in when he asked her to take a bath. Her mother sighed. Amelia knew it was wrong to have favorites. She felt bad sometimes.

"Dad, do you think I'll ever get a boyfriend?" Her father laughed at the question. He shook his head and continued to wash Amelia's hair. The soap smelt strong and clean. "Because if I don't get a boyfriend, what hope have I got in finding a husband?" Her father simply continued smiling, holding back a laugh.

"Amelia, do you think that it's important to have a husband?" He asked after recovering.

Amelia nodded. She needed to complete her list for an easy life. And a husband was one of the key points. "If I can't get a husband, can I marry you?" Her father was really kind, after all. She knew he was handsome, too. One time she had asked her mother what women looked for in men. Her mother had replied with something like, 'He has to be handsome, and kind. He has to treat you well.' Amelia's father covered all the criteria.

"No way in hell!" He replied. Amelia frowned.

"Why not?"

"You can't marry your own dad, that's against the rules of marriage!"

"Oh... OK." She didn't quite get it. But she was willing to believe whatever her dad said on the issue. She didn't really want to break the rules of marriage, it sounded dangerous.

Amelia ended up in school the next day. The bath had left her clean and she was actually glad about it. Her dad told her to look for boys in school she wanted to marry, instead of people in her family. Amelia wasn't sure any of the boys in her class would treat her particularly well, and none of them were at all handsome. Amelia didn't really like school much. She was constantly skipping classes and she felt it was no wonder, considering the teachers. The woman that took Amelia's class was fat, scary and angry. She was called Mrs. Johnson. She had a reputation of starting fights with students. Amelia was no exception. Her eyes were filled with pure evil, in Amelia's view. She gave detentions out as if they were nothing. She made students write hundreds of lines for the smallest of offenses. Amelia didn't like her. Mrs. Johnson hated the students. The students hated her.

Amelia got into trouble. Of course. She threw a pencil at Mrs. Johnson's head. The class thought it was hilarious. For a brief moment Amelia felt powerful. It must have been one of the most ecstatic moments of her school career. The last time Amelia had felt this powerful was weeks ago. She'd climbed the tallest tree in the school yard. It was a fir tree. The branches of the tree acted like steps of a ladder and she ascended gracefully to the top. She poked her head out. She was on top of the world. Amelia loved being the center of attention and there was no denying it. She was popular now, but school kids have a habit of being easily influenced. This time, however, the teacher saw her do it. Amelia suddenly felt ill. She knew what was coming. She didn't like it. Her mother would be so angry, her dad would probably shake his head. Amelia hated how he never looked angry at her. Just disappointed. It made the whole incident feel worse. It made Amelia feel bad for doing something fun. Amelia's mother would probably shout. They'd tell her off for misbehaving. Amelia knew she misbehaved, really. She just didn't care until after it was done. How could she prove that she genuinely felt bad? It wasn't fair.

Mrs. Johnson turned to the class and bellowed, "Amelia Jones! I saw that!" The class fell silent. Amelia was scared. She knew that the teacher was going to whack her. She could just imagine the woman walking towards her with the shoe in her hand. It wasn't a nice thought. The shoe would hurt her hand a lot. All the boys would cheer her on though. It'd be OK. Mrs. Johnson was now walking towards Amelia with the shoe in her hand. She grabbed Amelia by the wrist and pulled her to the front of the classroom. The classroom was dusty and cold. The floor was wooden and creaky. The chalkboard covered the whole of the front wall. Everything seemed to go quiet. Amelia could hear chairs and desks squeaking on the floor. The silence was uncomfortable. The old teacher looked at Amelia for a brief moment before slapping the shoe down on the back of her hand. Amelia let out a squeak and cried a bit. The boy's didn't cheer her on. They looked scared and annoyed.

In the school yard, three boys that Amelia knew walked up to her. One of them was short, with blonde hair and a scowl. One of them had dark, curly hair. He looked a bit friendlier than the others. The last boy was very tall. He had dusty, ripped pants and an angry face.

"Well done for getting caught" The angry one said. He walked closer to Amelia and then he punched her. He hit her in the stomach. At first Amelia fell to the floor. She immediately got up. She punched him back. Hard. The boy held his nose. It was bleeding. He didn't say another word to Amelia, but he got up and turned around. He ran back to the school house. Why had he hit her? What had made the boy change his mind? In class he thought it was hilarious. It worried Amelia that she didn't understand other people. She found a corner in the school yard. Gravel and stones. She sat on the gravel and pulled her knees to her chest. At least she was strong. The boys didn't hurt her.

To be continued...