The Middle Ages
Spain had closed all the windows in his room in an attempt to block out the noise of the festival going on down below in the open courtyard. He wanted to pretend that it was just a quiet night like any other. He wanted some time alone to read and pray and nothing else. Al-Andalus had explained that it was supposed to be a night of merriment, but Spain wanted no part of it. It was indulgent and sinful; he had learned that his guardian would often offer him temptation. But, he knew the essence of piety was to resist.
So, he sat on his bed with a book in front of him. Spain took a deep breath and for a moment the unpleasant sound of the outside world faded away and it was just him alone.
He placed his finger on the spot on the page where he had stopped reading the night before. The Latin was difficult, but not impossible. It just required complete concentration.
But, just as he was able to find a place of calm and quiet, his bedroom door banged open, and he heard his brother's voice cracking over his name, "Antonio!" Without any prompting, Portugal flung himself onto the bed. Spain let out a disgruntled noise. He wished his brother at least had the decency to knock so he could tell him to go away.
Spain did not want any company, even his little brother was not welcome. He said tersely "Go away. I am reading."
Portugal completely ignored his hints that he wanted to be alone and replied, "You can read any time. I want to have fun tonight." Spain snarled back, "Then go have fun." His little brother again ignored him and replied, "But it is a festival! Come with me."
Spain let out a grunt and tried to return to his book. But, just as he did so, Portugal pulled the book away from him.
With the book in his lap, the younger of the two looked at it and sighed. He looked at Spain and said, "Roman history again? Our father is never coming back. It isn't healthy to dwell on him."
Spain understood what his brother was saying, but he knew that Portugal did not understand. He was not foolish enough to think that their father was going to come back from Byzantium and embrace them as his sons. But that was not why he was reading the tales of Rome's strongest emperor's again.
He attempted to explain, "I know that. I want to study what he did so that I can replicate it." Spain bit his lip to stop himself from saying more. He did not want his brother to know the ambitions for an empire that rivaled their father's that simmered in his heart. When he finally had an empire, no one would be able to call him a bastard again.
He heard Portugal let out a long sigh before saying, "And it is crucial for you to do this all tonight?"
His tone was enough that Spain accepted defeat and said, "I suppose not."
Portugal smiled and said, "You will go with me?"
Spain did not want to go, but he could see that his brother was not going to leave him alone. So, he caved and decided that he would go, but not take the temptation to do anything he shouldn't.
He stood up and pulled on a long jacket. He usually rejected the Moorish style, but the flowing clothing was very comfortable.
The pair of them were out of the room quickly, with Portugal dragging his brother along. Spain soon found himself in the midst of the noise and commotion. The whole thing felt like an unrestrained storm of color.
Portugal, who still had a firm hold on Spain's arm, started talking as they weaved between people, "I was reading about the Ottoman sultan. Do you know that he has a harem of women he can choose from?"
Spain found his brother's babbling irritating, but he tried to reply. He had agreed to this already. So he said, "I don't care what they accept."
But Portugal continued, "But can you imagine it? Beautiful women whenever you want."
Spain sighed, "I don't care about beautiful women."
He thought his brother had noticed that he took no interest in women, no matter how beautiful. He had tried, and felt such frustration at his lack of reaction to a woman's body. The bible said that men should not lay together, but he could not deny what he wanted.
Portugal shrugged and said, "Beautiful men then. Both are wonderful and should be appreciated."
Spain was about to say something biting in response, but Portugal suddenly pulled him in one direction. He said, "Oh, look! A diviner!"
Without waiting for Spain to respond and say that fortune telling was witch's work, Portugal pulled him over to the tent. The woman sitting within was not as old as Spain expected her to be. He found himself sitting at the table across from the charming dark haired woman.
He wasn't certain what she was about to do, but he was surprised when she turned to Portugal and said, with a kind smile, "Give me your hand." Part of him wanted to stop Portugal from doing it, but he had no reason to other than his own misgivings.
His brother did and she looked at his hand for a moment. She seemed to contemplate for a while before saying, "There will be difficulties in your life, but your hard work and discipline will see you through. I see a good deal of happiness in your future." With that, she folded Portugal's hand into a fist and said, "Do not worry. You will be fine."
Then she turned to Spain and said, "And do you want to know what the future holds?"
Despite every instinct that told him not to, Spain rationalized that there could be no harm in trying. He gave her his hand and was surprised at how soft her hands were. She looked at his hand for only a moment before pulling in a sharp gasp.
Spain flinched and said, "What is wrong?"
She said, her eyes still fixed on his hand, "Your love life is the strangest I have ever seen. It is so thick here-" She ran her finger up part of his hand and continued "It looks like you will have a passionate love. It is so close to your life line; you will devote your life to this love."
Spain scoffed to himself. The concept that he would fall so deeply in love to the detriment of all of his other ambitions was ludicrous. But, she was not done, "But, you also have the most agonizing heartbreak I have ever seen." She almost looked like she pitied him as she said, "Your future holds so much pain for you and others."
Having heard more than enough, Spain pulled his hand away. He did not believe any of this. He would not fall in love and destroy himself for it; that much he was certain of. Without a word to anyone, he stormed out of the tent.
He heard running steps as Portugal chased after him. When he finally caught up with his brother, Portugal said, "Slow down. Are you alright?" Spain shook his head and said, "I'm fine. It doesn't mean anything."
—
1521
Spain had the arrangements for the baptism made, being careful about the details. He had the epiphany the night before that it would be best to baptize the child while they were at sea.
He could wait for them to return to Madrid and do it in a proper cathedral, but the priest serving as his personal confessor had already said he was willing to administer the sacrament, and what was really important was God's presence, and Spain had no doubt that God had been on his side this whole campaign.
He walked down the hall to the room where the young Aztec prince was. He saw that the translator was standing outside the door, and he took that to mean that the boy was sleeping. It seemed that he had been doing that when he was not crying or asking endless questions about his new surroundings. It was a very good sign that Mexica was so curious about everything, but Spain was getting tired of the constant questions because he was not able to explain the little details of his routines that he had never thought about.
He pushed open the door slowly so that it would not make a sound. Mexica was curled up on the bed with his blankets in his arms. Spain felt a pang of sadness that the little prince wasn't holding onto him, as he usually did when he was asleep. But, there was plenty of time left in the trip, and he had no intention of putting Mexica in a different chamber. The child stirred in his sleep and whimpered sweetly, which made Spain smile. He was so innocent still, which gave Spain even more reason to baptize him now. He wanted to save the boy from a life of savagery and there was no better time than when he was still innocent.
Spain closed the door, still being sure to be quiet. He could wait until the boy woke up, there was plenty of time. Once outside, he turned to the translator, and said, "Bring him to me as soon as he wakes up."
She asked, "What should I tell him? He will ask why."
Spain knew that she was right, but he did not know how to explain. He said, "Tell him it is a religious ceremony." He then paused for a moment as he remembered what was the boy's experience of religion was, and he added, "Make it clear that no one is going to hurt him."
Mexica awoke and his immediate instinct was to look up for his mother, since he couldn't feel her arms around him. But after blinking a few times, he remembered where he was. He saw the walls of the very familiar loathsome little wooden room.
Then the image flashed across his mind again of his mother with Spain's sword through her heart. The pain came back in the middle of his chest and the tears welled up in his eyes. His beautiful life with his mother seemed so far away now. He pulled in a sobbing breath.
The door opened and Mexica pulled in another sob. He was frightened with every fiber of his being that he would see Spain walk through the door. But, it was the translator who had introduced herself as Malintzin. Mexica did not trust her but she seemed to be the only person who spoke his language and had some concern for him.
She saw the tears that had started to form in his eyes and immediately walked over to him. She kept a respectful distance but said, "Don't cry, dear prince." Mexica shook his head. His mother would have told him the same thing. But, he couldn't help but let tears roll down his face. He wiped them away as well as he could.
Malintzin spoke to him, and when he looked up he saw pain on her face, "Spain wishes to see you, your highness. He is waiting for you."
Mexica knew he should maintain his dignity, but the last thing he wanted to do was see the man who murdered his mother.
He snapped back, "Why can't he just leave me alone?"
As soon as he said it, Mexica regretted the lack of dignity and said, "I didn't mean that. I will go."
Still feeling like he was moving through a nightmare, Mexica followed the woman out of the room and down a hall. The few sailors he passed still stared at him and spoke to each other in that language he did not understand. He shrank away from any of them, scared of the blood he knew was on their hands.
They reached the doors to a chamber, which were pushed open in front of him. Spain was standing behind it, and the sight of those green eyes made Mexica want to recoil and run. But, he stood still and did the only thing he could think to do. He questioned, "What am I doing here?"
Malintzin translated it, and Mexica saw anger flash over Spain's face. He said something and the native woman flinched. She turned back to Mexica, and tried to explain, "He wants you to be part of a ritual."
Mexica felt uncontrollable fear overtaking his mind. What did that mean? Would it hurt?
Upon seeing his face, she quickly added, "No one is going to hurt you." Mexica looked around her at Spain suspiciously, but the man seemed to be trying to put a comforting expression on his face. Mexica did not trust it, but he hardly had a choice, so he nodded.
He got as close as he felt comfortable being to Spain and then he stopped. Only then did he notice that there was another man in the room, and he was wearing clothing that seemed stranger than even the usual for these strangers.
Spain stepped closer and put his hand on Mexica's shoulder. He tried not to cringe away from the touch. Spain looked at him and said something, which Malintzin translated, "He says not to worry. This is sacred and it is for your own good."
She did not seem to believe the words, even as she translated them. Mexica felt fear rise again, and he could find nothing to comfort himself. He did not understand what was about to happen and was afraid to question it. Spain guided him over so that they were both standing in front of the unfamiliar man in the strange clothing.
Mexica noticed a basin of water in front of him, and he did not know the purpose. There was some conversation that passed between the man he took to be some kind of priest and Spain in a language that sounded even more foreign. Mexica did not understand and it apparently would have been inappropriate to translate for him. He decided to stand perfectly still and hope for some kind of explanation.
The priest suddenly reached down and touched Mexica's forehead with his finger, and left something wet where it had touched. Unconscious of his actions, Mexica stepped backwards. But, he couldn't go far because Spain's hand stopped him. Mexica looked up questioningly and Spain only responded with a smile that was supposed to be soothing.
It did not have the intended effect; it only made Mexica feel less certain. Why was he being touched? What was on his forehead? It became even worse when Spain reached down and picked him up. It was not the first time Spain did it, but each time was more uncomfortable. Those same hands that were now holding him had killed his mother.
Spain stepped forward so that he was standing next to the basin. The priest said something and then Spain looked directly at Mexica and said something. But with no translator present, it meant nothing to Mexica. He responded, "What?" but he realized that Spain couldn't understand him either.
He felt himself dipping backwards towards the water and took an instinctive breath before his head was completely submerged. He tried not to panic, but the thought occurred to him that Spain was trying to drown him. Was this a sacrifice to some water deity?
It lasted for only a moment before he was pulled back out of the water. Mexica shook his head to try to get the water out of his eyes. He pulled in deep gulping breathes and hoped that he would not be submerged again.
But, thankfully, Spain put him down. He wanted to run, but Spain would not allow him to. Instead, he kneeled down next to him and took a necklace from his pocket and put it around his neck.
Only then did Spain guide him back to Malintzin. Spain said something to her and she, in turn, said, "He says that your name is Alejandro now."
Mexica, shivering, cold, and wet, started to cry again and said miserably, "I don't understand."
Breaking the usual boundaries of respect, Malintzin hugged him and said, "You will survive this and thrive, little prince."
—-
Early 17th Century
Spain already knew that it had been a long night, but politics called for some commitment. Most of his colonies had wandered away with their tutors. He had told them that the children were only required to spend some time at the banquet with the court so that they could start learning more adult roles. Many were growing quickly now, and they would need to understand that more would be expected of them.
New Spain was sitting next to him, and Spain took a few quick glances at him. The boy was thirteen and had done a very good job paying attention through the discussion over dinner. But, now his head was resting on his hand, with only his elbow against the table. He was struggling to keep his eyes open.
He looked so cute with the look of unavoidable drowsiness on his face. Spain was proud of him; he had done as he was told. He had been disciplined, but Spain could only ask so much of a teenager.
Everything Spain needed to be present for had already been said. The court had lapsed into conversations about betrothals. Though it did concern his own political future, it was not something they needed his input for.
There was no question of severing his political ties to Austria, much less now that they were technically married. Austria was in Vienna, but any decision about familial political ties would have to be discussed with him as well. For now, this was all just speculation on the possibilities.
He turned to New Spain and said, "How about we get you to bed?"
The boy turned his eyes to him and said, his voice heavy, "I'm tired."
Spain found it adorable that he felt the need to say it, when anyone who could see his face knew that already.
He stood up and extended a hand to New Spain, who understood the gesture. He let Spain take his little hand and lead him away from the table. He was starting to grow faster, but he was still small.
Spain felt a small pang of sadness at the fact that New Spain was growing into a teenager now. He was a sweet boy, and he wasn't sure how puberty would change that.
Spain took New Spain back to his room, like he would have when the boy was younger. It had been instinct, and he had not reflected on it until he was removing his own coat.
By the time he realized that he was should have returned New Spain to his own room, the boy had already laid on the bed and closed his eyes. Spain watched as the boy instinctively made a ball out of the blanket and wrapped his arms around it.
He could try to wake him, but it was too cute. Spain decided that it was better to just let him sleep. He stripped to his under layer and laid down next to New Spain.
New Spain woke with his arms around Spain. He rubbed his eyes and tried to remember how he had gotten here. He knew he had been exhausted at the feast the night before, and that he had gone back to Spain's room. Then, he assumed, he must have fallen asleep.
He hoped that he had not annoyed his tutor too much by taking up space in the bed. But, he was sure that Spain would not mind. He was usually understanding when it came to these things.
Spain opened his eyes and said, "Good morning." New Spain said, "I'm sorry that I fell asleep."
The older man shook his head and gave New Spain an indulgent smile. He said, stroking the boy's hair, "It's no problem. You said the cutest thing in your sleep last night."
New Spain wanted to ask what he had said, since he honestly did not remember his dreams. He said hesitantly, "What did I say?"
Spain obliged, "You cuddled up against me and said that you loved me."
—-
17th Century
Spain felt quite smug about this idea, he had finally decided on the perfect gift for his favorite colony. It had taken some thought to find something that was more exciting that the clothing and jewels that he usually gave him.
He had thought back to New Spain's excitement about learning about the animals of the Old World, and he realized that the best thing he could possibly give New Spain was something new to amuse him. This would certainly also give New Spain something new and interesting to occupy himself with, and it would erase any doubts that Spain loved him.
The present squirmed in his hands and made an impatient whimpering noise, and Spain petted his head with one finger in an attempt to calm him. He had already planned this, and every detail was meant to make New Spain feel special.
Spain opened the door with his free hand and walked into the room where many of his colonies were spending their afternoon. Peru, Bolivia and Chile were playing a heated game of cards at a table, while Colombia and Venezuela were having a conversation on their own. But, Spain only had one person in mind. New Spain was sitting on a couch with a book in his lap, which Spain recognized as a book of French grammar. New Spain had recently started learning the language, and he was making quick progress. It was amusing how quickly he learned; he really was very clever.
In order to make the surprise work, he could not let New Spain see his gift beforehand. He spoke, while New Spain still had his back to him, "Alejandro, I have a gift for you."The boy turned, as though he was about to stand up, and Spain stopped him, "Don't stand up, just close your eyes."
New Spain did as he was told, though Spain was sure that he was intrigued. Spain stepped closer and did not say a word until he placed the squirming puppy in New Spain's lap. As soon as he did, he said, "You may look now."
The boy opened his eyes and a look of joy slowly appeared on his face as he saw the puppy in his lap. He picked up the puppy and held it closer to his face, where it struggled to lick at the boy's face.
Spain smiled to himself. This was exactly the reaction he was looking for; he could see that the other colonies were glaring at New Spain, but he wanted them to be jealous. They should know that New Spain was his favorite and had a special place in the empire, the gifts were only an expression of it.
New Spain cradled the new puppy in his arms, and it was so charming to see him holding it like a child. There was something very lovely about seeing him being nurturing, when he was usually so composed. New Spain looked up at him, and the wonder in his eyes was beautiful and said, "Thank you, Tony."
Spain kneeled down so that he could speak in New Spain's ear. This point he did not want to make in front of his other colonies. He said, "I knew you would love it. There are four more in the litter, and they are yours if you want them. Would you like them?"
Without a thought, New Spain nodded. Spain had guessed as much. He said, this time putting his hand on New Spain's leg and not caring who saw, "Then come to my office. You can meet them and then thank me however you want."
—-
17th Century
Spain finished his stock of letters, which were meant to be sent over night. They were orders to be carried out with the utmost haste against his enemies. One heretic in particular was harrying his fleets and he would have his vengeance.
Once he had sealed the last of them, he looked up. New Spain was sitting on the couch in the room, his gaze fixed on the book in his lap. He had been there most of the day and already managed to read through another book. Spain had insisted on his presence, because he enjoyed being able to look up and see him there. He had told himself all day that as soon as he finished his work, he would go over there and enjoy his colony. But, the day had been long and the work of politics seemed to be endless. So, New Spain had remained and quietly read through the day.
But, now the work had finally ended, he stood up from his desk and walked over to the couch. New Spain looked up as Spain approached and surreptitiously put the book aside. As Spain sat down, his colony said, "So, are you finally done?"
With absolute certainty of his course, Spain placed his hand on New Spain's thigh and said, "War takes far too much of my time, but it is the Lord's work."
He leaned closer to New Spain and continued talking, "I have been craving you all day."
The other turned to him and said, "I haven't been out of your sight."
Spain could feel the heat of the other's body under the clothing and he replied, "But touching is so much more satisfying."
He wanted far more than just this conversation. He had been watching New Spain all day and just talking was hugely unsatisfying. Without waiting for another word from the boy, Spain closed the distance between them and joined their lips.
He heard New Spain let out an indignant squeak, like he had not expected the kiss. But in a moment, he relaxed. Spain did this regularly enough that he was used to it. He felt New Spain yield and he pulled the boy closer. This was exactly what he needed after a long day of hard work.
Spain pulled away for a moment to say, "I want you on my lap."
New Spain drew in a breath and said, "Tony, do we-"
Spain cut him off; he was in no mood for a discussion, "I just want to be close to you. I'll be gentle."
He did not give New Spain time to respond, because he already knew the answer. He pulled his colony into another kiss, this one even deeper. While he was doing so, he pulled New Spain into his lap, where he could more easily let his hands roam.
Just as his hands reached the other's pants, the door banged open. A mortal came in and said, "Sir, the king demands your presence."
Spain let out a long sigh of frustration, "Tell him that I am busy."
The mortal shook his head and said, "He told me to tell you that it has to do with England and it is urgent."
This could only be news of an impending attack, and Spain could not afford to ignore it for the sake of his lust. He sighed again and said, "I am sorry, Alejandro."
He put his hand on New Spain's face. But the other said, "I understand, the empire needs to be seen to. I can wait."
Mid 17th Century
Spain watched as Mexico followed the directions of the dance master, his body moved with slow measured care. It was obvious that, though he was graceful and clever, he was still learning the steps. Spain had yet to see a mistake though, every step was falling in place. He watched closely though; any mistake would give him an opportunity. He waited until Mexico took a step out of line, and it wasn't long before he detected an off-beat step. It was a small mistake, and it was so minor that the dance master did not even note it. But, Spain was watching carefully and he noticed. He raised his hand and said, "Stop." Mexico followed his order out of reflex, Spain couldn't help but feel a sense of pride.
Spain stepped forward and gestured dismissively to the mortal in the room, "You may go."
The man bowed and stepped out of the room, leaving Spain alone with Mexico and a lone violinist.
He spoke to his colony, "Do you know where you made a mistake?" He met the other's eyes.
Mexico responded with a slight smirk, "It was one off-beat, Tony. I had the rest right."
Spain decided to toy with him. He said, "I expect it to be perfect. Do you think you can do it perfectly?"
The raised eyebrow from Mexico was very familiar; he always reacted that way to a challenge. He said, "I can do it." Spain smiled to himself, he loved seeing this competitive spirit. He gestured to the violinist who immediately played a volta.
Spain took the first step and Mexico followed him. He watched closely as Mexico matched his movements perfectly on beat. With the proper timing, Spain pulled his colony into closed position, his hand on Mexico's shoulder for a beat, and then put his hands on his waist. On the final beat, he lifted his colony. He noted with a pang of disappointment that this was getting harder to do as Mexico got older.
As the music died, Mexico put both of his hands on his shoulders. The boy's smirk was undeniable, he knew that he had not missed a beat. When his feet were back on the ground, Mexico said, "Was that perfect enough for you?"
Spain brushed back and piece of Mexico's hair, "Yes, it was." He kissed Mexico softly on the lips and added, "Good boy."
—-
Mid 17th Century
New Spain sent away the servants who had brought the water for his bath. He enjoyed this as a time of the day that he could spend alone and in comfort. He remembered that his mother had insisted on baths at least twice per day. It had always been calming to feel the water on his skin and think back on when his mother had bathed with him. The thought was calming after a hard day.
As was usual, he stripped off all of his clothing, including most of his jewelry, but he was careful not to remove any of his rings. He set them carefully aside before stepping into the warm water. He let out a sigh of relief. It felt nice to be able to relax in an environment that reminded him of happier days that were long past.
He let himself sink in to his shoulders and then he closed his eyes and rested his head on the side of the tub. For a moment, he was completely at peace. There was no sound but the silent lapping of water as it settled around him. There was nothing but silence and the heat on his skin. He had sent the servants away to have this peace.
But, it was interrupted by the sound of one of the doors creaking open. New Spain said with irritation, "I said I did not want to be disturbed."
The response came in a smooth voice that he knew all too well, "I do not want to disturb you, Ale."
New Spain opened his eyes and turned to look at Spain, who had just entered the room and closed the door behind him. The Spaniard has a smile on his face like a hungry wolf. The tone of his voice was one that New Spain knew well; it was the tone of a conquistador. New Spain was suddenly aware of his own vulnerability and the fact that his only clothing was on the other side of the room. But he let none of his trepidation show as he responded, "Why the sudden visit, Tony?"
Spain replied, taking slow deliberate steps towards the tub, "I was told that you were alone, and I thought I would come keep you company." He paused for a moment and looked down at his colony with a smirk, "And you are so beautiful like this."
New Spain could think of nothing to do but to respond and attempt to win back his solitude. He said, with an attempt at a charming smile, "Do you really think so? Perhaps it is better to leave something to the imagination."
But, that did nothing to lessen the hungry look on Spain's face. If anything, he took it as a challenge. He said, "I do not think so. I have the right to see what is mine."
He reached down and put his hand on New Spain's shoulder and then tracing up his neck, and ending by running a single finger under his chin. The feeling of it violated every sense of calm New Spain had.
Spain smiled, more to himself than to his colony, "I must have you painted, so I can capture how beautiful you are."
New Spain found another response, "You can do that another time, Tony."
Spain pulled away for a moment to move a small chair from the periphery of the room so that he could sit right behind New Spain. He then said, "You haven't washed your hair yet. Let me help you."
New Spain knew that he had no reason to object. But, he kept his response light, "I am capable of doing it myself. I am not a little boy."
Spain chuckled. He ran one finger along the curve where New Spain's neck met his shoulder. It was an enticing touch, teasing and yet promising. Spain said, "I can see that. But, allow me to spoil you."
Again, New Spain could not deny him, so he simply said, "If you want to."
Spain tangled one hand in his colony's dark hair, which was growing out again. He said, "You have such lovely hair, Ale, but it is too long again. It must be cut tomorrow."
New Spain knew that this comment would be coming eventually since he had let his hair grow past the length that Spain insisted on. But, he decided to argue anyway because he enjoyed having his hair long. He said, "Let me keep it for a little while."
Spain responded swiftly, "No. I have told you before that civilized men do not wear their hair long. And I like to be able to see your face."
New Spain gave up on the fight and started calculating how long it would be before his hair got to this length again. While New Spain thought, Spain grabbed the pitcher sitting next to the tub, which had been used to fill the tub. He dipped it gently into the water and then brought it back out. Spain said, "Close your eyes."
New Spain hesitated for a moment but obeyed. Spain then carefully poured the water over his colony's hair. The feeling was surprisingly pleasant, and for a moment New Spain's trepidation melted away. But when it stopped, he felt Spain's hand under his chin, guiding his face. He opened his eyes just as Spain kissed him. He let himself yield to the kiss.
When he finally had the chance, New Spain pulled away and said, "Tony, I'm not ready yet. I don't want to be the whore that they all say I am. If you love me, you will not force me to be." He hoped that it would be enough to keep Spain from going further.
Spain bit his lower lip for a moment, contemplating his options. But he eventually said, "Alright, but when you are done here, come to me. I want to be with you tonight."
New Spain nodded in agreement. But, as Spain left the room, New Spain let himself sink into water and fought the feeling that there was no place that was really his sanctuary.
—
Late 17th Century
It was one of the nights when Spain allowed his colonies to have some fun together. They were all in the ballroom talking. New Spain generally kept himself at the periphery of the gathering. He could see Peru with his brother's flanking him and if he was seeking amusement, he would go attempt to talk to them. But he did not have the energy for it, since it would only result in a fight.
But, Cuba walked over to him and said, "Hello, Alejandro. Are you well?" New Spain looked up at him and realized that Cuba had grown several inches since they had last spoken, and it gave New Spain the sad sinking feeling that it had been longer than he had thought.
But he smiled, and it felt like the first genuine smile he had in a few weeks at least. He couldn't be miserable around Cuba; his mind darted back to when they had both been children and life had been happier. He replied, "You've gotten so tall, Carlos. The things I miss when we don't sleep in the same room!"
That got a full, warm smile from Cuba. He had been formal before, like he was afraid of making a mistake. But, that melted away. He said, "I'm taller than you now. I bet I could pick you up."
His tone had a lovely nostalgic glow of childhood that lifted New Spain's spirits. He smirked back, "You could try."
Cuba's expression changed again, this time becoming more serious. He said, his eyes looking almost sad, "You can still talk to me, you know. We might not be in the same room anymore, but that doesn't make me any less your friend."
He looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. New Spain wanted to tell him, since Cuba had been his friend since he had first arrived in Madrid. But, he couldn't bring any words to his lips. It would only be painful for him to hear, and no one could intercede between him and Spain. So, he said instead, "I am well. I would like to see you again."
Cuba almost imperceptibly shook his head like he was trying to deny something to himself. When he spoke again, he sounded almost pained, "Would you really, Ale? I have missed you so much." He leaned forward and took New Spain's hand in his own.
New Spain was focused on the other so that he didn't notice Spain's presence until his hand closed on his wrist. His hand was pulled away from Cuba's. His voice dangerously sharp, Spain said, "Carlos, you need to leave."
He had no choice but to back away from New Spain. He gave his friend one more pained look. Spain wasted no time in dragging New Spain from the room, his grip on the boy's wrist.
Once they were out of earshot of the other colonies, Spain turned on him and said, "I thought I made it clear that no one but me can touch you."
New Spain pulled his wrist away and he could already feel the bruise forming there. He snarled back, "Carlos is my friend! He didn't mean anything by it."
But Spain's expression only darkened. He said, "You can't believe that. Anyone will take advantage of you as soon as I turn my back."
New Spain refused to back down when it came to the one person he was certain had no motives other than friendship. He countered again, "He doesn't want to fuck me!"
Spain's voice was dangerously calm when he said, "Rules are rules. No exceptions. If you can't follow them, I will lock you in your room until you can behave yourself."
New Spain's mind flashed for a moment to all the things he would miss if he was limited to that. He said, aghast at the idea, "You wouldn't."
Spain smirked, "I can do whatever I want with what is mine. Every freedom you have is a gift from me. Now, do you want to defy me?"
New Spain swallowed his exceptions, and said, "No. I'm sorry." He had no real remorse, but it was the best way to placate Spain. As he expected, Spain looked satisfied. The Spaniard said, "Good. Go straight to bed. You have had too much socialization for one night."
—-
Late 17th Century
New Spain was coming back from a ride, which was his best escape for a day from the stresses of court. There was little reason to worry about Spain though, because he had been gone for several days in a row in the Caribbean protecting his trading routes from English intervention.
But, that left New Spain alone with his colonizer's spies. He had noticed a long time ago that there were many servants who watched him when he thought they weren't looking. He knew the intention too. Spain did not trust him to be alone, and if he were to step out of line, those same people would report to Spain immediately. But, when he was riding, New Spain was truly alone. It was just him and the horse with the wind in his hair. But, it was only a temporary freedom.
He felt distinctly like he was willingly stepping back into a cage, but he knew on a rational level that it wouldn't be possible to escape. Before stepping through the door, New Spain took a deep breath and got ready to fake every emotion.
Once he was inside, the Philippines came up to him and said, "Antonio returned a half of an hour ago. He asked where you were. I told him that you were out."
New Spain asked quietly, "Is he upset?"
She shook her head in response, "He seems to be in a good mood. It must have been a good trip."
New Spain only had one more question, "Where is he? I should not keep him waiting."
Philippines seemed to have expected this question, because she immediately said, "He is in his bedroom"
New Spain knocked on the door, but he knew it was a formality. He could not think of a time that Spain had turned him away. As he expected, he heard Spain said, "Come in."
As New Spain opened the door, Spain turned to look at him. There was an immediate smile on the older man's face. New Spain said, with a painfully careful smile, "Welcome home, Tony."
Spain responded by gesturing imperiously and saying, "Come here, Ale. I have something for you."
New Spain obeyed because he knew he had little choice. He was also fairly certain this was a gift since it was usual for Spain when they had been apart. Once they were facing each other, Spain leaned in and said, "I have missed you so much."
Without any other warning, he kissed New Spain, holding the younger with one hand on his back and another under his chin. It was so sudden that for a moment New Spain forgot to kiss back, but he fell into the old charade easily. He let Spain take his fill before pulling away.
Spain said, "I should bring you with me. I get so lonely without you."
New Spain responded as smoothly as he could, "I would like that. But, one of us needs to be here to make sure no one is fomenting rebellion."
Spain smiled at him and said, "What would I do without you?"
Then he released his colony and turned to a small box that had been among his luggage. Spain then turned back to New Spain and held out the box to him. New Spain took it with rising excitement. He opened the box to reveal a ruby ring. The gemstone was circled by diamonds. He said, "A ring?"
Spain replied, "Yes, give me your hand. I want to see it on your finger." New Spain extended the hand that he did not wear his engagement ring on.
Spain took it, but he said, "The finger I really wanted is already occupied. Do you think she will mind if I remove this?"
He ran his finger over New Spain's engagement ring.
New Spain wondered if this was a veiled proposal. Surely there was only one reason to place a ring on that finger. He replied, being as evasive as he could, "You would need to break my engagement first. And you don't want that, do you?"
Spain chuckled to himself, and countered, "It's always a possibility. But for now, wear it on your other hand, and it will be our little secret." New Spain nodded and let Spain slip the heavy ring on his finger, where it felt like a very pretty shackle. Without allowing him another word, Spain pulled him into another kiss.
—
Early 18th Century
New Spain found himself leaning against Spain as he walked towards the bedroom. He felt unsteady on his feet, even though he had not intended to drink that much. But, it had felt like he could never finish a single glass, but there was always more wine.
At the end, Spain had looked disapprovingly at his half full glass and said, "Are you going to waste the rest of that?" New Spain had not wanted anymore wine, but he was not going to directly disobey Spain, especially when they were in public.
The rest of the wine felt like it had gone directly to his head, and Spain's presence was welcome support to keep himself from stumbling. Spain's arm slipped easily around his waist and held him there against his hip.
New Spain knew the feeling of drunkenness well enough to know that he would just stumble if he were to try to pry himself away from the other man. Spain planted a kiss on his cheek as he wobbled closer.
He said softly in his ear, "You're cute, you know that?" New Spain couldn't summon a response, but Spain didn't really seem to want one. He didn't give him more than a few seconds to respond before he turned New Spain's head and kissed him deeply on the lips.
New Spain felt slightly limp in his arms. He had no will to resist the kiss, and it felt good if he closed his eyes and let himself forget who he was kissing. The hand on his face was surprisingly gentle, as Spain would be when he thought he was getting his way.
New Spain stayed silent and let himself be led, stopping for occasional kiss. He felt almost indifferent to the contact. After the long day, he wished he could be left alone to sleep. But, he knew that Spain would be disappointed if he tried to leave now.
Spain settled himself in a soft armchair, and pulled New Spain onto his lap. New Spain decided that he had to say something before Spain continued. He said, "Tony, I'm too tired tonight."
Spain put a single finger to his lips to stop him from continuing. He said, "Shhh…stay here with me tonight. Let me touch you. I promise that I won't ask for more."
New Spain felt a hand on his hip, making it so that he would not get up and try to leave. It felt like it was a warning to him that if he got up, there would be forceful restraint. He internally resigned himself to staying where he was, until Spain decided to let him leave.
Spain ran one finger under his jaw and said with a smirk, "You are such a beauty."
New Spain felt a slightly drunk blush rising in his cheeks. He had heard Spain said it so many times, but it still effected him. Spain seemed to have something on his mind. He continued, "In fact, the Ottoman empire made me an offer for peace tonight."
New Spain felt like this had little to do with him, but he knew Spain wouldn't bring it up at this moment unless he could tie it to something intimate. He took the bait and said, "What did he offer?"
Spain's hand tightened on his hip. Spain replied, "He said he would make peace with me if I let him have a night with you." His hand tightened even more and New Spain could see a dark protectiveness in his eyes as he said,, "And I told him that I would lose my empire a hundred times than let him ever touch you."
New Spain tried to figure out how he felt about this information. It was clear to him that Spain meant it to be a sign of his commitment. But, New Spain felt like he had been discussed like chattel without his knowledge.
Then, slowly, his drunken thoughts turned slowly to the Ottoman empire. He had seen him so many times. The tall, handsome man full of charm and smiles.
Completely unbidden, he felt his cheeks growing hotter at the idea of the man.
His mind was only brought back to the present by Spain saying, "I love you." And pulling him into another kiss.
—-
Mid 18th Century
Spain pulled New Spain into the bed onto his lap. He started leaving little kisses on the boy's neck. The boy squirmed in response, which was rather pleasing.
Spain ran his hand through his hair and grazed his teeth across a sensitive spot on his neck watched the boy react. The look of pleasure on his face was sublime. He looked so handsome like this, completely enraptured by sensation. If only he could get a painter to capture that look to save it forever. He never looked more handsome than when he lost control.
He squeezed the boy's thigh, which got him a pretty moan. He had something he wanted to ask, but he was making sure he could loosen New Spain's tongue first. He didn't want any resistance or lies.
He moved his hand up New Spain's thigh, and stroked his thumb against a sensitive spot that he knew well. New Spain let out another beautiful, throaty moan. Spain smiled to himself, enjoying this little show. Someone so young was so easy to play when he had so many sensitive spots.
He then ran his tongue over a spot just below New Spain's ear. He felt the tremble go through New Spain's body and he knew it was enough now.
Satisfied, he said, "Alejandro, my darling, I have something to ask you."
He saw a slight twinkle of fear in New Spain's eyes. But, that was unwarranted; if he told the truth then there was nothing to be worried about. He would be glad to give New Spain nothing but pleasure if he liked the answer.
He said in the boy's ear, softly enough to not sound mad, "I saw that you were talking to Sadik tonight."
New Spain immediately said, "Tony, it isn't what you are thinking."
Spain did enjoy the little whine he got in his voice when he was scared. But, he wasn't going to give in to that cute little plea, not until he got an answer.
He laid another kiss on New Spain's soft, sensitive neck as a form of reassurance. Spain continued with his question, "What I want to know, my little prince, is what he was talking to you about. What did he say? Did he make a pass at you?"
New Spain's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously. Spain ran his thumb over the spot on his colony's thigh again to calm him. He did not need to be so nervous.
Like the obedient boy he was, New Spain started talking again, "I tried not to speak to him, but he insisted. He said that he just wanted to give me a gift."
Spain felt a burn in his chest, the slow building of anger. He did not want that Turk trying to give anything to his colony, especially since it would be some sort of bribe.
He said, his voice coming out as an angry growl, "What kind of present?" New Spain replied again, wonderfully obedient, "It was just a bauble. A necklace."
Spain instinctively glanced at New Spain's neck, and he was relieved to see it bare except for a gold chain that held a cross. It was good reassurance, but it was not yet enough.
He said, "And did you accept it?"
New Spain's eyes were wide, but they seemed honest. He said, with a charming childish sincerity, "Of course not. I don't take anything from anyone but you."
Spain moved his free hand to the back of the boy's head and said, "That's a good boy."
The jealousy in his gut was not yet abated. He grabbed a handful of New Spain's dark hair and pulled his neck back enough for it to hurt. He said, "Remember that if you start taking gifts like a common whore, I will treat you like one."
Spain held him there for a moment, watching as New Spain's eyes watered. The sweetest whine of pain leaked through his lips. Spain did enjoy all the sounds that the boy made.
He let go and said, "Now kiss me, and all is forgiven." New Spain did as he was told and pressed his lips against Spain's.
—-
Mid 18th Century
New Spain didn't really notice how much he was drinking. It seemed that every time he reached for his glass of wine, it was completely full. He wasn't sure how much he had actually had, but he started to find every quip that left Spain's lips a little funnier, and his laughter was less restrained.
He knew that perhaps it was too much as Spain's hand slipped onto his thigh under the table and he didn't immediately think to push it off. It was only when Spain's fingers tightened on his leg that he put his own hand on Spain's and pushed it off.
He leaned over, slightly further than he intended, almost falling on Spain, and said to Spain, "Not in public, Tony."
Spain smiled at him in a way that made him feel like he was being appraised like a particularly nice piece of meat. Spain replied, "I think you have had enough public for the night."
He stood and offered his hand to New Spain. Though he didn't really want to leave the banquet to be alone with Spain, New Spain knew he couldn't say no without causing some kind of scene, so he took the hand and let himself be guided to his feet.
Then he realized how much he had really drank as the feeling of drunken fog hit him all at once.
Spain started to walk, and New Spain followed him. New Spain felt like a baby horse. His legs were wobbly beneath him, more so than he expected.
He felt himself sway and then thought that he might trip and fall. But, there was suddenly an arm around his waist. He looked over to see Spain very close to him, with his arm around his waist.
New Spain said, not really thinking, "Thank you, Tony."
He felt a hot flush in his cheek at how firmly Spain was holding him. Spain smiled at him and put his free hand on New Spain's cheek and said, his voice low, "That's a very cute blush, my little prince."
New Spain knew that tone well, and he was not prepared to hear it when he could barely keep himself on his feet. He felt like he was outside of his own body as Spain tipped his face and kissed him fully on the lips.
He closed his eyes and felt like he could float away, if only Spain was not holding him. He wished he could float away and be anywhere else.
Spain's lips urged his open, and he didn't feel like he had enough control of his own body to resist. The older man's tongue slipped assertively into his mouth. For a moment he thought he might gag at the tongue teasing along his palate.
In his foggy mind, it felt like Spain might thrust his tongue even deeper into his mouth. It was too much and he felt overstimulated.
Suddenly, the thought came to him that they were still in public. Someone could walk into this hallway at any moment and see him limp in Spain's arms with the man's tongue almost down his throat. He started to pull away from the kiss and said, "No. Someone is going to see."
He wasn't certain if Spain understood his meaning, since the words were not as coherent as he wished. But, he did seem to understand well enough to say, "Then I will take you somewhere private."
Mexico felt like they were at Spain's bedroom in a moment, though he vaguely remembered walking there with his feet still feeling clumsy beneath him. Before he was completely aware of what was happening, they were both inside and the door was closed behind them.
Then both of Spain's hands were on his waist and their lips were together again. New Spain tried to step away, but couldn't quite find his footing. With his eyes closed, it felt like he could so easily topple. He grabbed onto Spain's shoulders to steady himself.
Spain stopped kissing him long enough to say, "Oh, you are eager." New Spain wanted to say that he had only done it to keep himself from falling, but Spain silenced him again with a kiss before he could.
Spain grabbed his butt a little too hard and he gasped. Spain spoke again in his ear, in a tone that almost sounded mocking, "Aw, do you like that."
New Spain tried to respond, "Tony, I-"
Spain's lips were back on his in a moment like a gag, silencing any objection.
He felt himself being backed up, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew what was coming. Spain gave him a teasing smile before giving him one push that made him fall backwards onto the bed.
New Spain tried to push himself up, but his limbs didn't seem to want to obey him. Before he could do anything, Spain was on top of him, pulling his shirt and jacket from his body. He tried again to bring objections to his lips, "Tony, I don't want-"
Spain's teeth made contact with his neck and his words were silenced by a yelp. The words were sinuous as they left Spain's mouth, "Don't be that way, my love."
He put one hand between New Spain's legs and gave him a hand squeeze that made New Spain writhe. He hated the way that he arched up to rub against the pleasant sensation. He didn't mean to, but his body was acting against him.
Spain added to the feeling of humiliation by saying, "I think that you do want." He run his tongue up the length of New Spain's neck and added, "I think you want very much."
New Spain could feel himself shaking. He tried to speak again, this time accompanied with a shove against the Spaniard's shoulders, "I'm not ready."
He half expected Spain to ignore him again, but the other man sighed. Spain said, "Fine! I thought you would show me some gratitude for once."
With that, he laid down on the far pillow and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. His back was to New Spain. At first, New Spain felt relieved that he had been released.
But, then another feeling replaced it. It was a childish worry. Spain was upset and he only going to be quiet for a moment. His rage always simmered first.
He felt tears of fear welling up in his eyes, and he said, "Tony, I'm sorry." He was certain that the tears only came from the alcohol, but they came anyway.
Spain turned his body back towards him, and seemed to soften. He sighed again and extended his arms, "I will forgive you if you lay here with me."
New Spain nodded in agreement and laid in Spain's arms. He laid there trying to understand what had just happened as Spain snuggled closer and fell asleep.
—-
Mid 18th Century
Spain finished his work and took a step away from his desk towards the door that led to the garden. Perhaps taking a walk through the flowers and statues would calm him.
But, His mind was fixed on the letter he had read that morning. His dear New Spain was safe from England, who had plucked him from the sea like the pirate he was and demanded a ransom.
There had never been any question of paying the ransom, and he had sent a captain with the money and the instruction to bring New Spain home as soon as he could. Spain had received a letter from the docks that the captain had returned with his precious cargo.
Spain felt so anxious to see his colony again, and the absence made him imagine the kind of brutality England had put New Spain through. Had the poor boy tried to fight back out of loyalty? If he had, then there was no telling how England reacted.
He imagined the bruises on his colony's skin, and felt rage in his veins. If England had hurt him, then he would pay for it. He didn't even dare think of what that Protestant lecher might do alone with a beautiful boy. The thought made him feel ill.
Spain felt painfully alone without his colony, and looking out on the garden was not doing him much good; the anxiety did not change. The only thing that made him feel better was the sight of a carriage through the bushes, racing up the path to the front of the palace. The vehicle was carrying his colony back to him.
He turned away from the window and waited impatiently for New Spain to come into the room. There were a few silent minutes that made Spain feel needlessly antsy. He was already imagining the state that New Spain might be in.
Then, the door opened and the familiar young man walked through it. He looked, much to Spain's relief, relatively undamaged. His hair was longer than it should be, but that could be easily fixed.
Spain took several quick steps and then pulled New Spain into a hug. There was a soft gasp from the boy, like he might not have expected it. But, Spain couldn't have endured any conversation without touching New Spain. He needed this contact first, and then words would come.
He could gladly have buried his face in the boy's dark hair and enjoyed the tactile reminder that New Spain was safely home. But, he knew he owed some explanation.
As he put one hand firmly in New Spain's hair, he said, "I was so worried about you." He felt New Spain slowly return the hug. Spain feared that the slight hesitation came from some abuse, since he was usually not so sedate in his affections, despite his usual shyness.
New Spain said, "I am not hurt."
Spain didn't believe the words, because he was certain that New Spain was trying to spare his worry. He leaned back and took his colony's face gently between his hands. Spain said, "Let me look at you."
He turned the boy's handsome face slightly between his hands, searching for any sign that he had been hurt. There were no marks as far as he could tell, and that let him finally breath a sign of relief. It seemed that New Spain had been honest.
Spain said, "I am so glad that you are home. You have no idea how much I have missed you."
Overcome with the affection that had been bubbling up, Spain pressed his lips against New Spain's. The taste of him was so familiar, and so welcome. Spain felt like he would gladly cover the young man in tender kisses, but he knew he should give New Spain a moment to speak. The experience had undoubtedly shaken him, since Spain had promised to protect him. The last thing Spain wanted was for this experience to damage New Spain's trust in him.
He pulled back but kept his hands firmly on New Spain's face. The young man finally spoke, with a confused look in his eyes, "Aren't you angry with me?"
He looked like he had genuinely expected it, and Spain could not imagine why. He stroked the boy's black hair back over his ear, and said, "Why would I be mad at you, dear?"
The boy bit his lower lip and the expression made Spain want to take him in his arms and kiss him until he was breathless. Slowly, New Spain responded, "I was alone with your enemy."
Spain put a finger to his lips to silence him before he said more. His loyalty was so pure that it was touching, though his worry was misplaced. But, Spain wanted him to be free of any had always made a point to keep New Spain as harmless as a lamb just in case he one day got some silly idea of autonomy in his head. Spain didn't regret it, except that it had given the boy no chance to fight off England.
He said softly, "You were kidnapped by a pirate. Do not blame yourself. It was my mistake and I am sorry for not doing enough to protect you." The words came out on a swell of guilt. He had never meant to leave New Spain so unguarded that he could be vulnerable to an attack like this. It was lucky that he had not been hurt. He could only imagine how scared his poor colony had been.
Then, a terrible thought occurred to him. Had New Spain done something to cause this guilt. He brushed back another piece of hair and said, "You did not tell him anything about me, did you?"
He looked the boy straight in the eyes and waited to see any hint of deception in their beautiful depths. He would know if something was unsaid. New Spain had never succeeded in lying to him, even if the occasions where he tried occurred so very rarely.
But, there wasn't any dishonesty as New Spain shook his head and said, "Of course I didn't. He tried to persuade me to, but I would never do that."
Something of his usual wit was coming back into his voice now that he was realizing he was home safe and in no trouble. But the loyalty was even better; he spoke with such certainty that he would never be a traitor.
Spain felt himself overcome with deep affection. He pressed his lips again New Spain's again, this time even more deeply. New Spain surrendered in his arms, just as he should. Oh, Spain had missed this feeling.
As he pulled away, he said, "You're a good boy."
New Spain flashed his self-satisfied smile that was so infinitely charming. Spain wanted nothing more than to spend the night and as many days as he could with New Spain, making sure he knew what it meant to be home, and nothing was going to stop him from doing exactly that.
He said, running his thumb along the boy's cheek, "How does a hot bath sound to you?" There was no way that New Spain would refuse; he had always had a certain affinity for warm water. For his own comfort, Spain wanted every trace of England cleaned off of his colony's beautiful skin.
A smile came to New Spain's face and he said, "You know just what I want, Tony." Spain ran his hand through New Spain's dark hair one more time, speaking as he did, "First a bath, then we will have a proper meal."
He gave New Spain one last light kiss on the forehead before putting his arm around his waist and leading him in the direction of his chambers, where all the amenities of home were waiting.
—
Late 18th Century
New Spain was walking through the crowd with Spain holding firmly onto his arm. Every so often he would lean over and quietly tell New Spain who all the dignitaries were as they passed him. There were enough leers from the various men that he felt like he had to cling to Spain for protection. For all his other faults, Spain was at least protective.
New Spain knew that it would be necessary for an empire to have several conversations before retiring for the night, and he could not leave Spain's side. So, he expected to have to listen to political conversations that he had to pretend not to be interested in.
They turned, and Spain paused for a moment. A momentary look of anger passed over his face. Then, he tugged New Spain firmly the other direction. He hissed, "Francis is that direction. We are going the other way."
New Spain was tempted to try to see what the man who so worried about. He only got a quick glance at a handsome, well-dressed blonde before he was pulled away.
He decided to take a risk and said, "Why can't we talk to Francis?" He was intrigued by someone who Spain wouldn't even allow him to talk to.
But, the response he got was a tightening of the hand on his arm. He winced at the painful contact. Spain said, his voice taking on the harsh tone that it always did when he was furious, "Because I said that you could not."
New Spain thought that would be the end of the conversation, as it often was when Spain was that sharp. But, Spain continued with mounting intensity, "Francis is a pervert who likes to take pretty things that don't belong to him."
New Spain found it a bit ironic that Spain felt at liberty to comment on another man's sexual appetites, but he knew better than to voice the idea. It was risky already to say something.
Spain said, his voice now a growl, "And you are a pretty thing. I don't want him lusting after you."
New Spain opened his mouth, attempting to say something flattering to defuse the situation. But, before he could speak, Spain stopped and drew him face to face with him. There was dangerous anger in his eyes, and it was enough to cause the words to die in New Spain's throat.
Spain put his free hand on New Spain face. He pulled the younger man close and said, "You're mine. You hear me?"
New Spain knew the best course of action was to nod slowly and soothe Spain's temper. Spain leaned in even closer and said in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, "I could make that clear right here. I could kiss you for everyone to see. Do you want that?"
New Spain felt a shot of fear that left him feeling cold. He knew it was a serious threat, and that it would be so humiliating if Spain made good on it. He said, "No. I'm sorry, Tony."
To his dismay, the anger in those green eyes didn't seem to dissipate.
Then a voice said, "Is there a problem here?" Spain turned on his heel and came face to face with his brother, who was doing a poor job hiding his anger.
Portugal repeated, "Is there a problem?" New Spain could not have been more relieved to see the man. It felt like he had appeared at the right moment.
New Spain let out a relieved breath once Spain could no longer see him. Spain answered, "I'm just chastising my colony. It is not your concern."
Portugal said, not backing down, "It is my concern if you do it in public."
New Spain could see the way that Spain bristled at being confronted. Spain snapped back, "Do you need something?"
Portugal glanced quickly at New Spain, his eyes seeming to ask if he was alright. New Spain wished he could answer, but he hoped his look was enough thanks. Then he answered, "Arthur wants to speak to you."
Spain sighed and said, "Fine. I'll talk to him."
—-
1937
Mexico cleared away the dishes from dinner and took them to the kitchen. Spain was still having trouble walking with his injuries, and he was not going to force him to take care of the mess by himself.
As he got up and picked up the plates, Spain said, looking up at him "Could you bring a bottle of wine from the kitchen? I want a drink."
Mexico glanced at him and considered turning him down. But, there was no reason to refuse. He returned from the kitchen with a bottle and two glasses. He was not going to let Spain drink alone, and he could use a couple glasses of wine to help his patience with Spain.
He placed one glass in front of Spain and poured a small amount of wine, and then poured one for himself. Then, with a sigh, he settled into the other chair. Coming to Spain's aid had been more exhausting than he had thought. But, he had chosen to commit to it and was going to stay until Spain could take care of himself.
Spain took a drink of the wine and held it in his mouth for a moment as if he was savoring it. Mexico waited with slight annoyance as Spain stalled. He took a drink of his own glass of wine while he waited for Spain to start the conversation. Finally, Spain said, "Dinner was delicious. You are a very talented chef."
Mexico took another drink to attempt to figure out what to say to this. On one hand, he appreciated the compliment, but on the other, he felt like accepting anything from Spain would only give the man hope. He chose to say, "Thank you."
Spain smiled at him and Mexico fought the urge to say something sharp to wipe the look off his face. He had no right to look so happy after all that he had put Mexico through. A little aid did not mean they were about the reconcile.
Mexico took another drink of his wine. This time he took a long drink, taking it as the opportunity to not respond to Spain.
The other continued in a conversational tone, "When did you learn to cook like that? I never made you cook for yourself."
Mexico put down his glass and responded, not measuring his response first, "I have lived by myself for a century. I taught myself how to cook. I am capable of living without a staff."
While he was talking, he noticed that Spain picked up the bottle of wine and poured more into Mexico's glass. He seemed to think that Mexico would not notice if he was distracted by conversation.
Internally, Mexico sighed. He understood what Spain was doing. He had done the same during the colonial years when Mexico was too young and naive to realize how much he was drinking. Those years it had been easy for him to get drunk and end up falling into Spain's bed. But, it had been decades since he could be so easily fooled.
He ran his finger around the top of the wine glass and said, "You know, alcohol is interesting with the way we are. Humans destroy their bodies if they drink enough."
Spain was looking at him like he did not understand why Mexico was saying any of this. But, Mexico continued to talk, building to his point, "But, we just keep building up our tolerance the more we drink. Eventually, you find yourself most of the way through a bottle of mezcal and hardly feeling it."
A look of understanding dawned on Spain's face as he realized what Mexico was saying. He said, seeming to struggle for words, "That means you are drinking too much."
Mexico let out a burst of laughter at the absurdity of it. Spain had given him wine so often when he was a colony, and now he felt the need to tell him what was too much. He said, "That is really rich coming from you."
Spain replied, "Why? I was your guardian."
Mexico leaned forward and fixed his gaze on Spain. He said, clearly articulating every word, "You are the reason I drink so much. You spent two centuries getting me drunk so I would let you grope me. Do you really think that your behavior didn't leave a mark?"
Spain looked at him with an expression of complete shock. Mexico continued, "Don't you dare criticize the things I do to live with the shit you put me through."
Spain momentarily withered under his gaze and said quietly, "I am sorry Ale." Mexico replied with the most biting tone he could muster, "Not sorry enough to change."
—
2010
Mexico looked at the pile of packages in his front room and tried to decide which of them to open first. This always happened on his birthday. People felt the need to send him gifts, even if it was just meant to woo him. He had already asked for them to be left here over the past few days, so that he could spend the morning going through them.
He had enough planned for the next few days, and this felt like something of an obligation to go through the presents. He planned to set aside the ones that were the most important to him, those that came from his friends. He would open the ones from acquaintances first, and then tackle those that would be more emotional.
He did not expect anything from his brothers, and he would be pleasantly surprised if they did send something. Maybe they would break their pattern because this was a special birthday for him.
It had been two hundred years since he had left his life as a colony. Two hundred years ago he had heard the call to arms from Hidalgo.
In some ways, he felt like he was worlds away from the boy he had been then. He could almost find some pity in his heart for that child who was freshly eighteen and believed that he was ready to take on an empire and that he was able to shape his own future. It was a naive dream.
The last two hundred years had not been easy, and it had certainly not been what he imagined. But, he had survived and he felt stronger than he had been in years. It finally felt like his life was firmly in his own hands. That, at least, was something that was worth celebrating.
Not every birthday had felt like a good one, but this felt like a good moment to celebrate all that he had survived. He was aware of how much he had fought through to reach this point.
He settled himself on the floor in front of the pile of presents, and intended to start looking through them. Before he could start opening boxes, one of his dogs came trotting over and sat in his lap. He kissed the chihuahua on the head and said softly, "Not right now, my dear."
He wished that he had remembered to bring treats since his dogs would surely take advantage of the available lap. He picked up the dog and placed him gently to the side, which earned him a little disapproving look.
Before starting, he took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. Spain had not called yet, which was unusual. It had become a tradition since the interwar years that Spain would call him on the morning of the birthday.
Perhaps the reminder that it had been two hundred years since the empire had been hard for him to stomach. Whatever the reason, Spain had missed his usual time.
He reached into the pile of presents and pulled out the first box that his hand fell upon. The first box was delicately wrapped in tasteful wrapping paper, and he could smell the cologne still clinging to it. He didn't even need to look at the tag to guess that this must be from France.
He set it to one side.
The next one was neatly wrapped, but plain. He checked the tag and saw that it was from Guatemala. Mexico supposed that Guatemala was the only brother he would expect something from. He placed that in a different pile that he reserved for friends and family. His relationship with France did not rise to that honor.
He continued to sort all of the presents. The present from America came in the largest box, and Mexico found himself completely unsurprised. But, he would not open that one until later. America liked to see his reaction to his gifts, and he would be disappointed if Mexico opened it without him there.
Once he moved that present to the side, it revealed another box that seemed to be the first one that arrived. He picked it up and checked the tag. It was from Spain, and the tag said, "Call me once you open this."
That intrigued him. Spain must have thought that whatever he had sent would be impactful enough that Mexico would want to talk to him about it. The presumption seemed perfectly normal to him. Spain usually thought very highly of himself, and would certainly think that his gift was important. But, it was still a break from his usual ritual for his birthdays.
Mexico checked the time on his phone, and calculated the time that it must be for Spain. It was still a reasonable hour for him, so it would be best to open his gift now. I not, he would risk calling him late at night, and he had decided long ago to keep his contact with Spain within business hours. Calling at night would give him the wrong idea.
Mexico braced himself for whatever special gift Spain had given him. He untied the ribbon and pulled off the paper.
He felt a strange anxiety as he laid his hand on top of the box. Spain was rarely this mysterious, and it made Mexico feel very oddly about this gift. He looked at the size of the box, and tried to guess what it could be.
The box was large and flat, which varied from Spain's usual tendency to gift him books. But, he reminded himself that it would be reasonable for Spain to assume that this was a special birthday and he had to give more.
But, he could not think of what might be in the box, so he decided to open it and end the mystery.
He took a deep breath and pulled off the top. The first thing he saw was a book sitting on top of padding that seemed to be covering something much bigger. This, at least, was usual. It was an old leather bound book, and it appeared to be carelessly used by its previous owner.
Mexico picked it up and looked at the spine. It was a copy of Don Quixote. Mexico wasn't certain why Spain had sent him another copy of this book, when he already had many copies of different vintages.
He opened it and flipped through the pages, hoping that the answer would appear to him. The first few chapters gave him nothing. But, as he continued, he noticed the notes in the margins, which he stopped to read.
They were notes about the meaning of words in a mix of Spanish and Nahuatl. The handwriting was familiar, even though it took him a moment to place. It was his own, but messier and more childish.
Slowly, it dawned upon him that this book must be the copy that he had used to learn Spanish in his early teen years. The careless owner had been himself as a young man in love with books, but not as responsible as he should be.
It felt like a piece of his youth that he could hold in his hands. He was struck by how strangely thoughtful it was for Spain to have given him this when it was doubtlessly such a precious piece of the imperial years.
He placed the book carefully aside, and vowed to find a place for it on one of his shelves. He was going to treat it with greater respect than his child self had. Now that it was such an old book, it would be more fragile than when he was younger.
He patted the book one more time, and then turned his attention back to the box. He could see that there was something much larger in the box, and he was going to find out what it was. If it was anything like the first part of the gift, his feeling of unease and trepidation would be unwarranted.
He slowly pulled off the first layer of packing paper, half expecting to see whatever it was beneath it. But, all that he saw was another layer of packing material. He pulled that aside, and drew in a breath through his teeth as he saw the unmistakable green of quetzal feathers.
His hands started to shake as he removed the rest and revealed a headdress. The colors were still so vibrant, from the green of the feathers to the red worked into the band.
He felt a burning in the corners of his eyes. He knew what this was. It was so clear in the memory of a little boy who had been weak and scared for his life.
The last time that he had seen his mother she had been wearing this headdress. It had been a part of what she wore that day. His memory of his last minutes with her were so clear that he did not doubt what this was.
He put one shaking finger to the feathers, and slowly touched it. He could still hardly believe that this was real and sitting in front of him. But the feeling of the soft feather under his finger made it feel real.
Spain had sent him a part of his mother's regalia as a gift. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. He used the back of his hand to wipe away the tear. It had been five hundred years since the conquest, and the memory of his mother still brought him to tears.
Mexico drew in a deep breath, and the feelings began to fade from sadness to anger. His mother's possessions were not Spain's to give back like they were some gift to him.
This would have been his inheritance if his mother had lived. She would have had this remade for his head one day.
He slowly felt the rage creeping in. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled until he found Spain's number. He took a deep, angry breath and then pushed the call button. He listened to the sound of the dial tone and then the rings.
As he waited, he scripted the words that he was going to say to Spain. He stood up so that he would have room to move, since he knew he would pace out of anger. Spain must have been waiting by the phone, because he picked up within two rings. He said, "Alejandro! I trust that you have opened your gifts?"
Mexico took one more deep breath to quiet his anger and then he said, "How dare you?"
He expected Spain to feign ignorance, and was not surprised when the reply came, "What have I done? I thought you would like what I sent."
Mexico started walking to control his feelings. He said, laying it out as clearly as he could, "My mother's headdress is not yours to give!"
Spain said, too coolly for Mexico's liking, "I am sorry if it has upset you. I thought it would mean more to you than it would to me."
Mexico snapped, making no effort to hold back, "And what was it to you? Was it just a trophy of the woman you murdered?"
He waited for some good explanation, but knew that he would get none from Spain. The answer was, "I was young and I took it because I was selfish, and I wanted proof of my victory. You are her son and you should have it."
Mexico replied sharply, "Of course I should have it! Do you have the rest of it? Did you take everything off of her body? Was killing her and kidnapping me not enough depravity for you?"
He could feel his own feet moving, carrying him across the room. It was better than using the anger to throw the phone, though he was tempted.
Spain was being annoyingly patient. He said, "No. I only had that. I knew it wasn't right to keep it once you were an adult, but there was not a good time to return it to you."
Mexico let out a snort through his nose like an angry bull. He could feel dangerous pain in his veins. His dog was looking up at him with worry. He replied, "You could have returned it two hundred years ago."
There was another moment of silence before Spain said, "You wouldn't have accepted it from me then. I know you don't like it, but this was the right time. Will you let me explain?"
Mexico bit his lower lip. He didn't want to hear it, but it would be worthwhile to know. He said, so bitterly that he could hear the anger in his own voice, "Fine. Say your piece."
There was more quiet that made Mexico feel antsy. He wanted the answer more quickly than this. Then, Spain said, "I did not know what to give you for two hundred years away from me. I knew the usual would not satisfy you. I decided that I would give you back the memories that I had been selfishly keeping."
Mexico found himself calming down slightly with the time. Spain's intentions had not been bad, even if his move had been tactless. Spain sounded like he was choking up as he said, "I have missed you ever since you left. So, I kept some things, and now I am letting them go."
Mexico took one more deep breath and stopped pacing. He said, "Next time you remember something of my mother's, don't wait until my birthday to give it back."
He heard Spain sigh on the other side of the line, "Happy birthday, Ale. I wish you happiness in the years to come. You know I just want you to be happy."
Mexico hung up. He put his hand back on the feathers and said softly to himself, "Mama…"
It was harder than he thought to look at his mother's things, and to remember how long he had been without her. But, he was certain that she would have pride in who he had grown into.
His phone started ringing again. He glanced at the screen, half expecting to see Spain's name again. Instead, it was Cuba's number. He answered it. Cuba said, "Happy birthday. Do you still want me to come over?"
Mexico said, hardly thinking about his response, "Absolutely."