"Yankee Doodle went to town / A-riding on a pony / He stuck a feather in his hat / And called it macaroni / Yankee Doodle, keep it up / Yankee Doodle dandy / Mind the music and the step / and with the girls be handy!" - 'Yankee Doodle', First Chorus
July 3rd, 1754
If there was one thing America was absolutely sure of, it was that this wasn't her fault. If anything it was France's. France was the one who had insisted the Ohio Valley was her's and it just...wasn't. America wasn't sure whose it was, but it definitely wasn't France's. That territory was very much a gray area and America knew that several of her settlers had claimed ownership of the land, along with, now, France. If anything, her people had just been trying to help.
Fat lot of good that did.
Now America sat on a stool in front of Miss Jennifer and tried not to whimper as the other woman brushed the long hairs out of her face and cleaned the small cut on her hairline. She'd managed to convince her temporary caretaker that she'd cut herself while she had been playing outside, remembering England's warning about keeping their nature a secret from even the most trusted of humans. It was small and painless, but Miss Jennifer had sat her firmly on the stool while she disinfected it. America knew it would be gone by lunchtime.
The headache drumming in the back of her head was a different story.
America had never been in a war, not really, but for some reason she could tell that one was coming. Something in the air had changed drastically and she had a sneaking suspicion that the peace party she'd sent to warn off the French hadn't exactly been peaceful.
It scared her. She didn't want people to die, but at the same time she couldn't let France just walk all over her. She hadn't told Miss Jennifer about her headache - it wasn't as if she could do anything about it anyway and it wasn't really that bad. Big countries got headaches all the time and America wanted to be a big country. Like England.
She could handle the French by herself and then England would be proud of her.
"There you go dear," Miss Jennifer finally said, releasing the young colony from her grasp. Immediately, America was out of the stool and gone, itching to finally get out of the Virginia home England had built so long ago and into the summer-time air of the Virginia countryside. "Do me careful, Miss Jones!"
America simply ran out with a carefree laugh and a wide smile.
The nearest town to the house was Jamestown and it had been there since before America could remember. Even before she'd met England. And despite it being miles away, America found no trouble getting there. Miss Jennifer insisted to America that it was an impossible feat, for a small, six-year-old to travel all that way and back in the time that she did, but America managed. She never seemed to have a problem getting anywhere in the colonies when she wanted.
Jamestown was booming when she got there. People from all around milled about their daily lives - men and women strolled leisurely through the streets, workers lifted loads and scribbled notes, children played games and avoided important-looking carriages that traveled down the cobbled streets. It was so alive and America could feel all of it - practically as naturally as breathing. America's favorite part of the town, the harbor, was filled with ships and goods from across the sea. All around, people attempted to sell their wares, either to the sailors or the civilians that had come to the market.
America could see all of the colorful fruits in the stalls that line the streets and the smell of fresh bread waved through the air. Her stomach growled at her.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, approaching one of the stalls and tugging on the vendor's coattails without hesitance. People were always nice to her, so she didn't have any reason to fear.
The man, who looked kind enough, turned around, looked down at her, and kneeled down with a smile. "What can I do for ya, lass?"
"May I have a peach?" America asked him politely - dutifully remembering the manners England had taught her. She reached into one of her pockets and fished out two shillings to pay him.
"Why of course!" the vendor said with a chuckle. The man took her money and handed her a peach in return. "Enjoy, lass!"
"Thank you!" the colony said with a brilliant smile, running off before the man could say anything else.
America made her way through the town and ended up resting underneath a small tree, a perfect view of the harbor stretching out before her. America always liked watching the ships, taking joy in spotting them on the horizon and wondering where it came from and what it was holding as it grew closer and closer to port. The possibilities were nearly endless and always exciting. She watched as ships came and went, munching on the fresh peach she'd gotten from the market. Most of the ships coming in were English, easily spotted by the brilliant red, white, and blue colored flags unfurled on the masts. America wondered vaguely if one of them could be carrying England. The large, intimidating ships that were entering the harbor flying Britain's flag could easily be transporting her.
But no, England would've told her if she was going to visit. She always at least wrote first.
With a sigh, America finished her peach, dug a hole in the ground, and placed the pit of the peach in the ground. She hoped that, one day, the pit would grow into a big, strong tree and produce its own peaches. Maybe she would even show England.
After she'd properly covered the peach pit, America headed back home, headache completely forgotten.
Title Origin: 'Yankee Doodle' was a song sung by the British during the Seven Years War describing how poorly equipped and trained the colonial militia was. It became America's first patriotic song after the Revolution.
History: In late 1753, the Virginia colony sent a message with Major George Washington to the French occupying the Ohio Valley to leave. The French, who rejected the claim, were then defeated in a surprise attack. However, Washington's troops retreated and built Fort Necessity, of which the French would later take on July 3, 1754.
After what feels like absolutely FOREVER, I have finally kicked myself in the butt and started to rewrite my historical Hetalia series. I hope that you all enjoy!