Yay Re-writes! So I'm back at a computer and have been working on some edits. Which included more research. Remember to review!
I do not own the Nations of Hetalia, just the OC's that reside with them.
Chapter One: Raising a Nation
"N.E!" A young six-year-old blond boy ran towards his older sister and guardian, "Look what I found!"
"I see, America," She giggled and kneeled do to be face to face, "You found a mud puddle!"
America looked down to his mud covered clothes and back up to N.E, "Look what I found in the puddle!" He opened his right hand to show his sister a piece of rock.
"That looks like a piece of granite," N.E. picked up her muddy little brother and placed him on her knee, "There is a lot of that around here."
"It's the granite state!" America said proudly, making his sister chuckle again.
"Alright, we'll call New Hampshire the 'Granite State." The smile those words put on her little brother's face completely distracted her from the red coated soldier coming to join them in the field behind N.E's home.
"Miss New England," the soldier called her attention, "I have a message for you."
N.E's smiled faded a bit as she stood, hugging America to her chest, and turned to face the soldier, "From Britain, I assume?"
"Yes, Miss," The soldier handed her a letter branded with her employer's wax seal.
N.E took the letter and let America slide down to the grass below, leaving a streak of mud down her dress. She examined the red wax imprint of a British flag, and opened the letter. As she read, America's small hands clung to her skirt waiting to hear what the letter said. Placing a hand upon his golden head of hair to keep him from jumping with anticipation, she finished reading and looked to the soldier. "He's coming to check in on us?" Her glance going between the soldier and the boy on her skirt, "He would believe I couldn't handle this responsibility."
"When is he coming?" America looked up with a mix of excitement and confusion.
"He says he's leaving in the next few days, so he should be here in about a month."
"Ah, Miss," the soldier spoke, "I should ask you to look at the date. We had some trouble locating you. He had sent the letter to southern Massachusetts, and it took us some time to find you here in New Hampshire."
Blinking in awe of the soldiers' stupidity to not realize that she actually lived in New Hampshire, N.E. looked to the date in the right hand corner. "You've been looking for me for how long?"
"A- about a month, Miss," the soldier shied away in fear of getting hit by the girl as she scooped up the young nation and headed into the house.
"I can't believe how oblivious those men can be!" N.E was rummaging through America's dresser to find his church clothes, "I live here, I've lived here since we moved out of Plymouth, and because I happened to be in Massachusetts a month and a half ago, they go and make mistakes like this!"
"What's the matter, N.E?" America spoke up from his place on his bed watching his sister mutter as she dug through his clothes.
"That pain, Britain will be here any minute! I bet he told them to take this long delivering, giving me as little notice as possible," She pulled out America's nice dress clothes and turned to start stripping the muddy clothes off her brother's back and replace them with the new ones. "America, you remember everything from your lessons lately, right?"
America stared at her blankly, thought about what she had said, and then cautiously nodded.
N.E. was un-amused at her brother's thought process, "Go look over your work from the past couple of weeks," she ushered him off the bed and downstairs, "And do not get anything on those clothes!" She added as he made his way to his books. She fluffed the pale blond, ringlet curls that bounced about her neck, hanging from the ribbon tying them all together. Before she could look down at her gray and brown dress stained with the mud of America's outdoor play, the sound of horses caught her ear and she looked out the window over America's bed. "That bloody bastard," she said quiet enough for America not to hear her foul language, "His timing would only be this good if he planned it." She scooted off the bed and headed downstairs.
Britain didn't want to catch New England off guard; it was his boss, Queen Mary that suggested the plan for his check up on the "nation" watching over America. Ever since he had found the boy with France and Finland, and said nations tried to say that the young nation was their brother, King Henry VIII became very protective. When Queen Mary came to the thrown a year or so before, New England was a protester trying to keep the protestant faith while the Queen was trying to re-establish Catholicism. Wanting the young woman out of her country, she recruited her to raise the nation overseas while Britain was back home. Britain wasn't so sure about the idea.
New England was a girl with will, which he admittedly admired, but that will and a history of protesting in England would surely lead to trouble. Not to mention she surely did not like him. He winced when he caught a glimpse of her aggravated face in the window upstairs looking down at his carriage. With a sigh and accepting the attitude that was sure to come (and honestly, he couldn't blame her), he stepped out of the carriage, putting on his work face and making his way onto her front porch.
The front porch itself was an odd thing to Britain. Normally in the city, homes didn't have a front porch, a few steps at most. Yet here, New England had a large porch, holding a rocking chair, a couple of end tables, and other seats for any guests she may have. Britain spied a tea cup still on the table, empty. He presumed she had been busy taking after America. It had been some months, almost a year, since he had been back. Looking at spending a month with an irritated New England and hearing how she knows her "little brother" so well, the thought made him wince again. He knocked on the door and put on a stern face when she answered with her hand on America's shoulder.
"Good afternoon, New England," He greeted, "I presume you got my letter."
"Only recently," N.E. forced a smile. If not for America's young ears, her greeting of her "boss" would have been much more colorful.
"I glad to see at least America knows the proper dress for appearing before a traveling guest."
N.E. looked down, forgetting about her mud soaked clothes, "Yes I was doing some work outside and lost track of time," she felt a blood vessel twitch in her forehead, "Please, come in. America, go get some tea cups ready for Britain," she nudged the young boy toward the kitchen.
Britain swallowed before approaching her, feeling the freezing atmosphere about, "It's been a while, New England."
Glaring over her shoulder as Britain came up behind her, "Yes, it has. Thank you for the letter alerting me about your coming. It did me a lot of good getting it an hour before you would arrive."
"It's not my fault the soldiers here had trouble finding you," Britain lied, "But mud is still not the way to appear in front of a guest, not to mention an employer."
N.E. whipped around, her blond curls beating against Britain's nose. Poking a finger to his chest, trying not to yell and call attention from America, "You are not my employer, the Queen is, and she has enough respect to alert me with enough to not only get her new nation ready for an audience, but myself."
Britain lost face as he stared into her raging blue-gray eyes, and jabbed him into the door behind him, but composed himself enough to say, "Again, I am sorry for the issues with the mail. Perhaps you should consider a better way of telling our soldiers where you are." The red glow tinting her checks in frustration caught his eye, causing him to silently beg for her to back up from the position they found themselves in.
"N.E., Britain, I have the tea set ready," America called from the other room, "but N.E. won't let me use the stove to make it."
"I'll be right there, America," N.E. turned her head in the direction of the boy, giving Britain a chance to breathe while she wasn't looking. Turning back, he composed himself again as she ended their conversation with, "If you do anything in my house or with that boy that I don't like, you can believe I will have your head on the wall next to the moose I got last month." She walked away, leaving Britain just inside the doorway, trying to convince himself not to just run.
He would admit a few things: New England was a strong and willful girl. Adding in her hourglass figure made by her wide hips and voluptuous breasts, she made his heart stop when she had him against a wall like that. When her dusty blond curls bounced as she walked away to help America make tea, and her eyes burned through him as she proved how protective she was of the nation she came to love, he had to work even harder to just stand. He would admit that he liked New England, just never to her, or anyone one else.