Much like a ripple in a pond, even events on the edge of the pool are eventually twisted and changed by that first little disruption. Like the Trent Affair, for instance...
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CHAPTER 14
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It had been several months since the beginnings of the Civil War. Fort Sumter lay in Confederate hands, ripping a hole in America's blockade of the new nation. On the ocean, a single ship steamed forward, steadily making its way to England. "Hey, cap, how long till we hit England?" The gray-suited nation looked up at the diplomat standing beside him, bored out of his skull staring across the sea. Though he had only known life as a true country for a few months, the Confederacy already had the body of a teenager.
"To tell the truth, I don't know." James Mason spoke softly in reply. In the last few months, it seemed the Europeans had begun to take sides in this conflict. The Russians had declared open support for the Union, with Italy and Germany following suit. On the other hand, England and France had begun supporting the new southern Confederacy, running the blockades with shipments of guns and other supplies. He knew there was a marked difference between a few shipments of guns and powder and open diplomatic support, though. What he didn't know was whether the gulf between the two could be bridged. The diplomat's train of thought was derailed, though, as he spotted something on the horizon. "Say," he asked the teen beside him, pointing over at the slowly-growing speck on the sea, "what do you think that is over yonder?"
"Hmm..." the Confederacy squinted, trying to make out the shape. It was flying a Union flag, and standing at the stern was a most familiar face. "That there's my brother!"
A disquieted murmur came over those aboard the ship as the USS San Jacinto closed in, ready to seize the Trent's diplomatic cargo.
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While Union seamen seized Mason and Slidell from the ship, a blur of blue and gray clashed in a fistfight on deck. America, or the Union as some were calling him now, delivered a series of brutal blows to his brother's gut. This was met by a nimble throw from the Confederacy, slamming the blue-clad nation into the deck. "Gotcha now, Alfie!" As he raised a fist to slam into the Union's face, though, the older nation rolled to the side before delivering his own strike.
Back on his feet like lightning, he grabbed hold of the Confederacy by the throat, lifting him off the ground before slamming him into the nearby wall, knocking him unconscious. "Not so fast, Johnny. You're coming with me." Scooping up the boy in his arms, America carried him back onto the USS San Jacinto. A strange mix of emotion revealed itself on his face as he looked down at his brother; though he knew that he couldn't let the first shots of the war back at Fort Sumter go unanswered, it still pained him to be exercising such brutality against people he still considered to be his - even though they claimed otherwise.
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Several months later, the Union was now facing two extremely irritated nations, both on the verge of declaring war on him. "Are you daft, Alfred?" England glared daggers at his younger brother. "What makes you think you can just sail around, stealing people from my boats like that?"
America shook his head. "They were illegal cargo. There was no way I could just let them sail away!"
"People aren't cargo, you wanker. They're people!"
"Now now, Angleterre," France interjected, trying to calm his fellow European. "Alfred is still new to nationhood. He hasn't even been independent for a century yet." A devious look formed on France's face. "Obviously, we have to teach him a lesson in manners."
"So what if I haven't been independent for that long," America replied. "I still kicked your ass to earn it, Arthur!"
England began to look sullen. "Please, don't start..." came his depressed reply.
"And don't forget 1812!" America took no heed of England's wishes, continuing. "I bet little Mattie's still reeling from that one, huh!"
Melancholy quickly shifted to rage, as England slammed a fist into the desk. "Alright, that's it!" A vein throbbed on England's forehead. "Fuck you, fuck your country and fuck your naval blockade!" Rising to his feet with a single violent motion, England stormed out the door. "If you see your new brother sailing about with top-of-the-line British vessels," he added as he left, "you'll know where he got them!"
As the door slammed, France and the Union looked at eachother in stunned silence, neither sure quite what to do. France, seemingly emboldened by England's outburst, broke the silence. "In that case, Alfred," he said, his eyes shifting to a pile slumped in the corner of the room, "I think I might just recognise your new brother."
The pile in the corner shifted about slightly, chains chiming as they knocked together. The Union looked back in dread.
"You hear that, Johnny?" France began to shout directly at the heap. "I recognise you!"
Suddenly, the sound of chains and restraints snapping filled the room. The heap reared up, shaking off scraps of metal to reveal itself as the embodiment of the Confederacy. "Yeehaw!" The young man in gray bounded towards the doorway, France's diplomatic recognition filling him with newfound strength and energy. "Thank you kindly, Francis," he said, tipping his hat to the blond Frenchman. "And see y'all on the battlefield, Alfred!"
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Years passed, and the war seemed to be going nowhere. The Confederacy had yet to really secure its independence against the Union, yet a truly decisive blow had yet to be struck. France and the Confederacy, leading several platoons of soldiers through thick Virginia woodland, were just about to begin a surprise attack on an American garrison. Yet, the younger of the two nations couldn't help but feel uneasy. "Francis," the Confederacy noted, "I got a real bad feeling about this..."
France patted the Confederacy on the shoulder, attempting to reassure him. "It will be fine, Johnny. Luck is on our side. They will never see us coming!"
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No less than an hour later, France was eating his words as rapidly as he was helping dig a defensive trench, their position being raked by Gatling gun fire. "I done told you so, Francis," the Confederacy grumbled as he dug. "But how in the world did they know we were coming through the woods?" Looking up as he sighed, the Confederate found his answer. "What's that there?"
"Looks like a balloon," France replied, raising his rifle. "I'll try and take a shot at it."
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Meanwhile, hundreds of meters in the air above, Germany looked over the edge of a balloon's basket. "Looks like they have begun to set up defensive lines... You taking this down, Gilbert?"
Prussia, however, was far too carried away in looking around to be bothered with paying attention or taking notes. "Holy shit, West, check it out," he called excitedly. "We're flying! This is beyond awesome! I have GOT to make one of these when we get back home."
Germany facepalmed deeply. "Yes, Gilbert, we're flying. We have been for about an hour, now... But pay attention!" Germany looked down again at the ground where France and the Confederacy had holed up. "Wait... is that France down there?" His eyes widened in shock as he noticed the brightly-clothed nation point his rifle at their craft. "Gilbert! Get down!"
The next sound Germany heard was a stifled scream of pain as a Minie ball found his brother's leg.
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A few more months passed. The tide had begun to turn against the Confederacy, yet the continued assistance from France and Britain still made final victory for the Union elusive. Nevertheless, America and his new European friends still felt safe enough to relax, if only for a little while. They had decided to join the Union President, Abraham Lincoln, at a local theatre to see a performance of Our American Cousin. Nothing seemed out of place for the first hour or so. The performance was decent, the nations chatted quietly between themselves between scenes, and even Lincoln himself, stressed from his heavy workload in fighting a civil war, was starting to enjoy himself.
"Hahaha!" Italy laughed loudly at the scene with cousin Asa, slapping Germany on the back. The stern Aryan gave Italy a shy, subtle smile in response. He had to admit, it was quite the scene.
At that moment, though, Germany heard the noise of a struggle coming from above, where Lincoln and his wife were seated. America and Prussia noticed, too, and the three began to move in on the presidential box. "Dammit," muttered the Union. "The one day I get to relax..." Though Germany and the Union moved swiftly, Prussia lagged behind, his leg injury forcing him to limp along with his walking cane.
By the time the two blond nations had reached the box, it was too late. The President had disappeared, Henry Rathborne lay unconscious, the First Lady and Miss Harris were in shock, and the only clue was a letter on the ground. As America read through the letter and Germany tended to Rathborne and the two women, Prussia finally caught up, reaching the presidential box. "What happened? Where's the President?"
Angrily, America crushed the letter, throwing it at the ground. "They... my brother kidnapped him. He's trying to force my hand... The bastard!"
"The President has been kidnapped..." Prussia smirked slightly, shooting the Union a challenging look. "Ask yourself this then, Alfred - are you awesome enough to rescue the President?"
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Additional notes: Russia and Prussia actually did support the Union in the real world, and England did run blockades to supply the Confederates. In fact, Ferdinand von Zeppelin, inventor of the Zeppelin rigid airship, had his first ballooning experience as a recon observer attached to the Northern Potomac Army. However, in this world, differences in European history have changed the perceptions and attitudes of the European powers, making them a bit more proactive and aggressive in their dealings with the American Civil War.
All the details of the Ford's Theatre at the time of the kidnapping in this story are the same as what they were in real life at the moment of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. For instance, John Wilkes Booth actually timed his gunshot so that it would be masked by the laughter at a particular scene in the play. Masking an attempted kidnapping with the same laughter isn't so far-fetched an idea.
Originally, in the real world, the intention was for Lincoln to be kidnapped and for the Confederates to use him as a bargaining chip. However, since the Civil War was essentially over by that point, the plan changed to assassination rather than hostage-taking. Since the Civil War is being dragged out here because of increased interference from France and England on the Confederate side, though, I decided that the kidnapping plot would likely remain in place instead.
Also, when I found out that the original plot was for a kidnapping rather than an assassination, I felt obliged to make a Bad Dudes reference. I apologise for that.
Finally, sorry about the delay. I don't really set myself any sort of schedule when it comes to updates on my stories.