The Will To Power
Chapter Two - No Respite For The Damned
Summation: England/America- AU where America loses the war of Independence. Washington is hanged, and England tries to reconnect with his colony. Earlier chapters more Dark!Ficish, hopefully will get more fluffy. Also will show the impact of the failed American Revolution on a global scale.
Disclaimer: I do not own Axis Powers Hetalia and do not profit in any way from this.
Warning: Moar sad, some notes.
A/N: I have to thank everyone for the kind comments, ideas, alerts, and favs. You make me feel like I have over 9000 internets. I forgot to put some notes up from before so there's a copypasta at the bottom if you want to skim it. The end here is just a hint of what the next chapter will get into. We'll be getting a better look at how these repercussions are affecting Europe and their own colonies. At first, specifically the ones that were directly involved in the confrontation: France, Spain, etc.
"An Englishman does everything on principle: he fights you on patriotic principles; he robs you on business principles; he enslaves you on imperial principles." -George Bernard Shaw
"Frère Jacques, Frère Jacques."
Alfred's words barely came above a raspy whisper; the quiet room seemed to swallow them up as quickly as they left him. Hours earlier he had been tossed inside, still wearing the uncomfortable steel manacles that had been clapped on his wrists as he had been dragged to the square. As soon as he'd managed to get himself standing his first action was to try to break down the door. His efforts had been in vain; the heavy oak door didn't even shake in its frame.
Barely noticed had been his own shouts and curses that he had issued during his failed attempt to batter the door down. By then he hadn't been thinking clearly; all he had wanted was to relieve that feeling of helplessness. Only now did Alfred let himself feel the scratchy pain in his throat. Still lying where he had collapsed in a heap near the door, he kept on repeating the half-forgotten verses to the empty room.
"Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?"
The room had been a spare storage place on the ground floor. He remembered the summer when Arthur had helped him build it. There were no windows, just a small rectangle cut near the ceiling and covered with a thin cloth to let light in. Because really, who would waste good glass for a storage room?
How he wished now that he had.
Alfred clumsily wiped at his eyes, the clink of metal as he moved was just another of the constant reminders of his situation. His hair had become greasy and matted over the weeks of incarceration since his defeat on the battlefield. And he knew he was thinner from the constant hunger that had nipped at the heels of his men. It felt like fortune gave him a small consolation in that he no longer could bring himself to care about his appearance. Not when his world was crumbling to the tune of Frère Jacques.
"Sonnez les matines, Sonnez les matines."
Both Francis and Arthur had taught him the tune that came tumbling from his cracked lips. He barely even remembered what the French words meant, but he couldn't bring himself to sing the verses Arthur had taught him. Even in French the song felt like an old friend; there was something calming about it not having changed since he'd learned it. Besides, Ben had always like the French...
It was still such a shock that Arthur would… no. He was no longer Arthur anymore, he was only England now. His enemy, his oppressor, his Tyrant. The one who had killed Washington. Alfred felt that he had failed all of his people for letting it happen. He tried to suppress his shudder at the thought.
England had forced him into this situation. If he'd only listened to Alfred's pleas for his people it could have been avoided. And then Canada, whom Alfred would've gladly accepted into his house, had not only snubbed him, but had betrayed him. His only real family member had rejected his push for independence.
And in the end it was in vain, wasn't it? He was captured by the enemy, his leaders had been killed, his army had been killed or imprisoned, and his people...
"Ding, Dang Dong, Ding Dang Dong."
Alfred never knew the pain of the people could hurt this much. Could barely tell where their pain ended and his started. If only he could do something about it, if only he knew what to do now. Now that he was defeated.
His whispered singing tapered off as he heard the sound of a key scraping in the lock of the door. It must have been seconds
England looked immaculate as ever as he stepped inside. His steely gaze immediately zeroed in on Alfred, still sprawled next to the wall. He looked at him appraisingly before asking, "So have you finally managed to calm yourself down?"
Alfred was seeing red as he tried to push himself off the ground, trying to get up so he could show England how calm he was. Alfred only managed to get on his knees before he was yanked to his feet by his hair.
He couldn't hide the puffy, bloodshot eyes as he glared at England. What he wouldn't give to stop his body from feeling so heavy - so heavy that he couldn't even attack the cold bastard in front of him.
"I see you are more worn out than calm. And you look so tired Alfred, you should be resting." That England had actually tried to make it seem like he cared about Alfred bordered on hilarity. He knew exactly what England and his king cared about.
Alfred had a hard time keeping his voice from cracking as he bit out, "Go die in a ditch."
It wasn't something as heroic as he wished he'd have said, but it was his fondest wish at the moment.
The slight narrowing of England's eyes and his longsuffering sigh was Alfred's only warning as he was backhanded across the face.
"I didn't want to do that Alfred. I didn't want to do a lot of things; but you need to learn what is acceptable and what is not." Keeping a firm grip on Alfred's hair, he half-carried, half-dragged the boy to the bed, shoving him on it.
England seemed to ignore the unnatural quiet that descended on the room as he propped an angry but unresisting Alfred up into a sitting position. "Unacceptable behavior will be punished. There will also be quite a few changes. I can't just let you run wild again - if only for your own safety."
For his own safety? More like for the safety of England's profits.
"Each government official will be appointed by and answer to the Crown. Needless to say, expansion westwards will be halted. There will also be several new taxes that will be used to pay for war damages." At that Alfred almost felt like crying again, the matter-of-fact way England sounded, as if he were reading them off a list, it was far too similar to the charges they'd read at the execution.
"And, until I deem you civilized, you will have not visit anyone nor have visitors here. Including your brother."
Alfred grimaced, "I have no brother."
At that England raised a large eyebrow, "He would be very sad to hear that."
As if. Canada was probably happy that he didn't have to visit anymore. "He's a traitor."
England smirked, "And you don't see yourself as a traitor?"
"I fought for freedom. I just wanted to be independent; if you had let me go then I never would have fought against you!" God, he hated how shaky his voice still sounded.
He could almost see the condescension dripping from England's voice. "Do you not hear yourself? It is a good thing for you that you didn't win this little rebellion."
Little rebellion? He had poured his heart into this struggle! Had traded his plow for a bayoneted rifle. Had even fought against the nation that had raised him; had invaded another nation that was his only brother.
Had his efforts really seemed so half-hearted?
"Go away." He knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He turned away from England to face the dark wall, childishly hoping that he might just disappear.
"Everything will go much better if you cooperate and behave, Alfred." And that was something he just couldn't stand; that horrible kindness in Arthur's voice, as if he had not just done all the things he had.
He slowly shook his head and shut his eyes tight. "Murderer. Go away."
Alfred missed the concern now etched on England's face as he unexpectedly asked, "Are you hungry?"
Hungry? For food? Alfred wasn't so sure if he ever wanted to eat again. Especially if it was England's food. But it did remind him of something he'd been wondering about.
"What happened to France?"
"You do not need to know." It figured that only at that point did England have the decency to sound distant.
"What happened to him?" If something had happened it would be all Alfred's fault, wouldn't it? He'd been the one to ask Francis to help him...
He shivered from past memories as England took the folded blanket near the bed and began to cover him with it. "You should be thankful that whatever happens to him, it will not happen to you."
"What d-d-did you do?" Alfred was too tired now to cover up the slight fear in his voice.
"I? I did nothing that was not required to ensure victory. What is happening to him now is the frog's own bloody fault." England leaned over and awkwardly patted Alfred's head.
"Just go to sleep. You don't have to worry about him anymore. You don't have to worry about any of the other countries anymore."
Alfred began to drift as he heard England's footsteps fade. But this was not the peaceful kind of rest he had once had - It was the fitful sleep of the damned.
That night Alfred dreamed of fire.
Notes Originally Written After Chapter One
So far the England in my head is still very Imperialistic!Conquering!Ambitious!, but because he has a soft spot a mile wide for America he can still be redeemed.
And America...;_; He will be needing many huggles.
There will be more on how the rest of Europe as well as how exactly the other colonies are affected, prolly won't go in-depth till the third part.
But Anon was right about France and the Spanish colonies' revolutions. There was also the Irish whose rebellion in the 18th century was influenced by their success. Then Australia only became a major center to deport criminals after the Revolution, as before they had been sent to America.
Also, no French Revolution? = No Napoleonic Wars = No dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire
I think hardcore HRE/Ita shippers just started cheering for Iggy.
After Notes For This Chapter
As for Al, poor guy's going through some really rough depression. Scattered, jumpy thoughts and nerves and the like. Will prolly also take a toll on his 'super strength' since depression tends to make people feel sleepy and weak. Plus Iggy's cooking. Actually, I could've just said 'Iggy's cooking' and left it at that.
As always Comments, Questions, and Concerns are always welcome~
Well have a good night guys, keep your stick on the ice!
