6. New World Discoveries

Date Written: January 7, 2019

Date Posted: April 23, 2019

Characters: Veneziano, America

Summary: Veneziano and America meet for the first time.

Notes: I did a little research. Apparently, America and Italy first had relations established in 1840 (but was apparently suspended because of the lynching of eleven Italians in New Orleans, Louisiana in 1891). At this time, both Nations are under a bit of public upheaval. At the time, Italy is undergoing the Risorgimento (the unification of all Italy, which was rife with struggles and war) while America was busy setting up the grounds of the 1860s Civil War period due to their acquisition of new territories in the west and south and the unresolved issues concerning slavery.

Veneziano scowled a bit to himself as he entered the hall.

Once upon a time, he would have been passed over for representation, but his siblings insisted that since he had so much experience dealing with Austria and other European powers, he should be the one to attend the meeting. When he petulantly asked why, they merely pointed out the atmosphere that defined their shared peninsula: bloodlust for one unified Italy.

Unfortunately, Veneziano was not pleased—but that could be easily attributed to the buzzing in his skull and a dryness in his throat that wine couldn't sate.

These were the effects of having war in the inherited lands that he shared with his siblings.

Regardless, when greeting his fellow European Nations, the Italian pasted a bright smile on his face—a sight that just annoyed Austria, but had others cooing at his childlike nature.

When international meetings convened, they weren't exactly "national". Really, it was more of a clandestine get together of the more popular and powerful of Nations. Well, that and Nations who wanted to actually throw their hat into the proverbial ring for whatever machinations they were planning. In short, Veneziano was already bored and only looked forward to what his fellow Nations were planning on arguing about today.

Indeed, as he took a seat in a lavishly decorated room, he could spot a few major powers running about. Most of them were European in origin—some neighbors that he had consistently traded with for centuries, others were those who attacked him and vied for his title of the King of the Mediterranean. (That was actually of his own invention, but he at least dominated the Adriatic when he was still just the Republic of Venice). Others, still, were Nations he had never seen before.

Take, for instance, the young blond teenager (child, still so much a child) who was talking with Prussia and a few other Europeans. He had hair the color of pure gold and of the harsh, beating rays of the noonday sun. His eyes, once Veneziano happened to sidle past and sneak a glance, were the clearest pair of sky blue that he had ever seen. Not even the paints that he had so dearly used to attain such beautiful views of the sky could compare.

Upon asking a bemused Belgium, Veneziano realized that the young stranger was in fact the former colony of the British Empire.

Shortly after his declaration of independence, the former colony became the United States of America—a little too long of a name if Veneziano were being honest, but it sounded powerful. In fact, if Veneziano remembered correctly, the young upstart had tackled his former benefactor, pushed Spain and France out of their territories in the New World, and had begun conquering land west of his holdings.

The child was a troublemaker, but he had the makings of an empire.

Veneziano shook his head ruefully at the young man who was busy tapping his fingers against the polished surface of a table. Goodness, the young man had ambition and endless amount of talent. In fact, Veneziano could have sworn that the United States reminded him of his grandfather. Perhaps if he looked closely...no, he should greet this newcomer himself.

As Veneziano approached, the young Nation looked up from his musings and caught sight of the Italian. Immediately, there was a friendly smile that showed off a dimple on the left side of the American's face as he seemed to swoop forward and into the Italian's space. Once more, there was a small rueful sort of grin on Veneziano's face as he let the American shake his hand a little too enthusiastically before etiquette demanded that they end the shake soon.

Good grip, Veneziano thought to himself he let his hand rest against his side. A little too enthusiastic, but it's to be expected from someone so young and not used to the culture on the other side of the continent.

"Hello, nice to meet you!" The United States of America rocked back and forth on his heels, clearly delighted that he was making the acquaintance of a new Nation. "I'm the U S of A! But you can call me America for short. How about you, friend?"

"You can call me Veneziano!" The small smile turned pained as he thought about the war that was being waged in his land. The Italian didn't know if he would retain his spot as a Nation alongside his siblings—his name could easily change to become something else. Furthermore, he didn't know if he would even survive the unification process. However, it was his people wanted, right? "But that might change soon, I suppose."

There was a somber note weighing down his voice that the American, despite his youthful appearance, seemed to have picked up. He, too, seemed to be battling his own inner demons as he seemed to appraise the older Nation with something akin to curiosity and awe.

"You're...you're Rome's grandson, right?" America smiled broadly as he seemed to connect whatever dots that were in his head concerning the Italian. "He was this totally awesome dude who pretty much conquered most of Europe! I've heard so many stories!"

Despite himself, Veneziano found himself smiling gently at the young one. His enthusiasm was infectious, and frankly, he needed whatever optimism was presented to him in times of great struggle.

He, almost shyly, asked, "You've heard things? From whom?"

At this, the blond's eyes, seemingly clear as a summer's day darkened to a hue comparable of that to the early transition of twilight. His form slumped, shoulders falling as if he was burdened by some great weight. For humans, such a motion was imperceptible, too lightning quick and subtle for their poor eyes to track. However, for a Nation who lived among the hotbeds of intrigue and for centuries, he knew the signs. America was plagued with some vestige of his past...and if the Northern Italian put two and two together, well—

"Ah...my old caretaker, good ol' Britain."

So, he was right.

Quickly, Veneziano flapped his arms up and down, as if embarrassed by the sudden admission of the truth. (In truth, he felt for the boy, but international meetings were not the place for heartfelt condolences). "So, sorry! Forgive me, Mr. America! Why not talk about other things?"

Stunned, the American looked down at him from such a height before a loud laugh rumbled from the lowest part of his chest and traveled out of his mouth. The force of such a raucous laugh had the blond doubling over in his fit of laughter—a scene that Veneziano enjoyed greatly. Most of his Northern neighbors were too stuffy and rarely showed such a childish side.

Veneziano quite liked this new Nation.

"Mr. America? That's a first!" America wiped stray tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand, his face still showing signs of his delight and excitement at this new friend. "It sounds so strange when you say my name like that! I sound so old!"

Another fit of raucous laughter.

"Strange, how so?"

"Dunno, man, I never understood why you guys liked calling me America and stuff. Seemed kinda outta nowhere, ya feel?"

"Ah, you see," Veneziano couldn't help but chide the younger Nation, "you were named after one of Firenze's explorers: Amerigo Vespucci. Forgive me, but it sounds equally as strange to call you by a name that is the latin form of an Italian."

At that, sky blue eyes widened.

Was he in shock?

"Dude, does this mean I'm part Italian?" The Italian's face must have showed some sort of depth of discomfort and bemusement because the American immediately held his hands up in placation. "No, wait, I don't mean it like a bad thing, but...you're like the birthplace of my name, Mr. Veneziano! That has to get me some street cred at your place!"

Veneziano found himself inwardly smirking at that train of thought. Ha, as much as he would have liked to claim Amerigo Vespucci as his own, it was Firenze who birthed and breathed life into such an explorer. It was a shame, he would have liked to have this American look up to him as such. It was deeply sobering that in the midst of the unification process that—

Well, that's another thought for another time.

"He was a Florentine, caro. When I return home, maybe I'll tell dear Firenze that you admire her child so."

"Caro? That a bad word or something 'cause that's not cool, bro!"

As Veneziano listened to this newfound Nation prattle on and on about several of his interests, the Italian found the pain that had been wreaking havoc in his head fade into an uncomfortable hum.