Hello, once again. SakuraLetters here. This oneshot involves America and my OC, Virginia. I wrote this as a tribute to the brave men and women in uniform who make unimaginable sacrifices to defend the ideals of liberty, freedom, and democracy. I know America isn't the most popular country in the world right now, but I honestly think we Americans are given more crap than we really deserve. However, that is simply an opinion as a resident of the U.S. who has spent time overseas. Not as military, although I do have several family members serving the the armed forces.
(pulls out a soapbox and stands on it)
Having watched a soldier fresh out of Iraq, one of my favorite teachers, nearly break down in tears several times while he was speaking to my high school this morning, I felt rather insulted when there were a few idiots up in the nosebleed section laughing at him. Ironic that he was defending their right to laugh at him while he was serving overseas...Anyway, my point is: show respect to the veterans. They put everything on the line to defend our country. They at least deserve our respect.
(steps off the soapbox and puts it away)
Disclaimer: I, SakuraLetters, do not own Axis Powers Hetalia, and therefore I do not own America. I do, however, own this version of Virginia.
Enjoy.
Of all the states, America had always been closest to Virginia. She had been with since the beginning, as he had found her within months of England finding him. She was the only state whose refusal to address him as any variant of the word "father" didn't come from malice. If anything, Virginia was more his sister than daughter. She had seen him at his absolute worst and had stood behind him at his absolute best (rolling her eyes at his over-dramatic heroic speeches).
Which would explain why it was Virginia who stood by America's side as a wreath was set upon the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and discretely held her country's hand when he flinched from the twenty-one gun salute.
Bam!
Alfred flinched slightly. This had been an annual tradition just shy of a century, and he still flinched from the loud gunshots. He couldn't image how the crowd of veterans who had lived in chaotic gunfire could remain so still, so calm in a appearance. A gentle squeeze responded to his barely detectable flinch. He glanced over at the woman who had been with him since the early colonial days. She seemed largely unfazed, her face a stoic mask. Her pitch-black hair, now cut boyishly short, ruffled slightly with the wind.
Bam!
Virginia gave no visible reaction to the gunshots. She remained as composed as the veterans they were honoring. The lingering scent of gunpowder drifted in the crisp November air. A few closing words were offered, and the crowd slowly began to disperse.
"Alfred," Virginia said softly, glancing over at the man she had always considered her brother, "we should be going. It's getting cold."
"Have I ever mentioned how much I don't like this place?"
The state glanced over at the endless rows of pristine white crosses.
"You've mentioned it before."
"They all died fighting for me."
Virginia tightened her grip on his hand. "For all of us," she corrected. "For the citizens of this country, for their freedoms and liberties. The men and women buried in this cemetery died to protect what they believed was important. They didn't die just for the country, Alfred, but for the millions who inhabit the country. As long as the freedoms they loved remain for the generations to come, their deaths are far from meaningless."
America looked at his sister. The breeze brushed her bangs away, revealing a faint scar from a rather serious gash across her forehead. The only physical evidence of her ordeal on 9/11. He had a similar one himself, along with the gash Pennsylvania endured and the serious injuries New York had received. The Empire State still walked with a limp.
Virginia sighed and moved to readjust the poppy she had pinned to Alfred's jacket.
"If ye break faith with us who die, we shall not sleep, though poppies grow, in Flanders fields," Virginia recited. "Don't dishonor their sacrifices by doubting yourself, Alfred."
Seemingly satisfied with the poppy's position, Virginia gently hugged her country.
"Now, let's go home."
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scare heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
—"In Flanders Fields" by Dr. John McCrae
The poem above was written by Dr. John McCrae in 1915. The poem was never intended to be published, as the author was dissatisfied with it and had thrown it away. Another soldier retrieved it and sent it off to be published, which it was on .1915. It remains to this day one of the most stirring and memorable WWI poems ever written.
I hope Virginia turned out okay; I've actually been working on her character the longest. The real irony is that I haven't even been to Virginia. I grew up on the Oregon/Washington boarder. ^_^ As far as the poem goes...it is the most beautifully haunting song I have ever heard in my life. I love that song, and I never fail to cry when I hear it.
So, my fellow Americans, be sure to take the time to thank veterans for all they have done and continue to do for us. They deserve it.
-SakuraLetters
