It was like slow motion when it happened. A shot was fired, the bullet traveling to lodge itself in the young boy's body daringly close to his heart. He could not say he was a nation, nor American, no…he was just a boy now. He had lost the revolution, had lost the war and so many people and he couldn't take how badly everything ached when the British started to fire again, but that was what had happened to him. Every breath he took was ragged and sent pain signals throughout his body, blood thinned out by the ever consistent rain making his blue coat slowly turn a shade of purple.

The pain that constantly reminded him that yes, he was injured and yes, those were his people dying kept him on the ground, trousers slowly getting coated with the thick brown mud where he kneeled. He leaned forward until his head was inches away from the muddy earth, finally allowing himself the ability to cry only then and there when his troops didn't have to watch as they were shot down. "No!" He screamed, his voice hoarse as it ripped out of his body, a fist pounding against the earth soon afterwards. "This isn't right! I had the upper hand!" He screamed again, this time looking straight up at the English man with hatred.

His steely gaze only held for a few seconds before he started to cough from the stress that was running free in his body, shakily standing up to take a few daring steps towards the man he used to call his father, his friend. "You cheated. You- you- I know you did!" He took a few steps closer, frustration being the only thing keeping his body moving. His finger eventually pushed against the English man's chest, and as soon as it did one clean shot was fired to end it all. Blue eyes grew significantly when the bullet made contact with his head and traveled through, the now vacant body crumbling to the ground.

The war ended quickly once the rebels saw their leader, their chance go down and not move a muscle, most of them being shot down before they could even run for their own life. Arthur Kirkland, the personification of England merely stood in some form of shock in front of the lifeless body of his charge. He knew that it was going to have to happen, to rewire the child almost, but he didn't expect him to have to go like that. Gingerly he leaned down, running his hand over the teenager's eyelids to get them to close. He turned around once he was done, taking a shuttered breath before walking away from the scene.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*linebreak*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A young sunny child of about the age of 6 ran into the large estate in England he stayed at, taking the stairs two at a time to reach the person of interest. In his tiny chubby hand was a large gun from about 1776 that he had an easy time dragging along with him, pushing Arthur's office doors open to run in. "Iggy! Iggy! What's this?" The sunny child, known as Alfred F. Kirkland, held the gun up with ease, looking at it with a confused expression. "It looks old!" He smiled and then looked over at Arthur, his eyebrows furrowing at the Englishman's dismayed yet somehow smug expression. "Iggy?"

Hello you guys! This was actually written in one setting and un-beta'd, so if there's any mistakes let me know. But anyway...I wanted to do a Revolutionary War one-shot when America actually lost, and here it is! I hope you all enjoy it, it was extremely fun to write ;) My favorite part is definitely the ending. Lemme know with a LOVELY review! :D