And here's chapter eight~
Sailing in a never-ending storm
I threw away my anchor now there's no stopping.
Life, is a rough sea journey
So let's give a name to my ship that's fitting
such as "REGRET"
How many years has it been? Seven years? Ten? It certainly feels like ten years have gone by. Every second of every day has recently been dedicated to wishing for England's surrender. The war is starting to take its toll on my men, and I have lost so many that instead of counting sheep I can just count all those who have died. I never really reach the number. Even on those nights when I don't get a second of rest. I really just wish for this war to be over, with me on the winning side. So far, this awful Revolution is the closest I have come to freedom.
Thankfully, I've already let go of the extra weight in my heart uears ago. Well, 'get rid of' is a little inaccurate...'replaced' would be a better word. Those heavy feelings of love for my enemy have been exchanged for the firey passion that Freedom gives me. I will not give up until I can fully enjoy that freedom, until freedom is all I have and I can literally breathe it in.
"So, Prinzessin, how much longer are you planning on losing men?" Prussia asked. I kicked a stray rock, wondering the same thing.
"This ends next year," I found myself saying. Prussia made some vague noise of agreement, then started to walk towards the training area. He had walked quite a ways away when he turned back around and yelled, "Oh before I forget!"
I raised my eyebrow and motioned for him to go on, but he shook his head and ran back. He lowered his voice and whispered, "France has been stressed recently. Maybe he won't charge as much when this is all over if you give him a nice little surprise." He took off after that, saying something about needing to spar.
I sighed, frowning a bit. We were going to head out tomorrow and I would prefer not to be sore when I get on my horse, but what could I really do?
"I wonder if I could shave off his beard while he sleeps..." I murmered, feeling my lips twitch up into a smile at the thought of a beardless-France.
Many people believe life to be unfair. I believe that as well. It's a sad truth that can't be avoided, but it's one of the truths that make me smile. One man's "unfair" could be another man's "fair". Like right now.
It's raining. You have more than your fair share of rain back in your country, that's why you come to mine. Everybody enjoys a sunny-day after all. It's "unfair" that even the land of the country you are trying to keep enslaved is rebelling against you. You must also probably think that it is unfair that you are the last man standing, while I have my whole army behind me.
To me, it's as it should be. It's all completely fair. The tyrant who is trying to enslave has been defeated, and the nation who yearns to spread his wings has finally won.
"You know, England," I started, spitting out his name as if it left a vile taste in my mouth, "I must say, I regret starting this war."
I was actually surprised. For a second I thought I saw relief flash in your eyes. I hadn't seen any emotion besides greed in them for the longest time...
"That is to say, all the bloodshed that my men had suffered was most uncalled for. If none of my men had to have suffered, I wouldn't have minded stretching this war out for a while, just to toy with you."
...But it's too little too late. I almost wanted to laugh at the turn of events. At first, I was the hopeless one, longing for you to love me, not to leave me, my land. To just sit and have you read aloud while I listened. Now...Now I'm the one looking down on you. Down on you and your fallen army.
