I had no real choice but to learn English. I fought every step of the way.
"Just repeat what's in the book," England said, more stern then last time.
I stared at the page for a moment, then rolled my eyes and read the fairy tale out loud in English.
"This was only a dream, my love! Then the old woman hid me behind a cask, and hardly had she done so when the murderers came back home, dragging a…A…"
"Maiden."
"—maiden with them." Actually, I was quite proud with how fast I was learning. Apparently what I was reading now, The Robber Bridegroom, was a story from a German collection; the Grimm Brothers, I think. I had already read halfway through the book, and England was surprised with what little trouble I had reading in English. Just because I hated the English language didn't mean I wasn't smart.
England patted my hair, signaling me to continue. I did so, only pausing to sound out a few words.
"Good, good. We'll read another story later, hm?" England looked quite pleased, whereas I looked disgusted. He apparently didn't notice, and left me at the table, satisfied with himself.
When he was out of earshot, I threw the book across the room in frustration, and cursed out every bad word I could think of.
"You're upset."
"Clearly," I replied, wheeling around in my chair to see a young woman (she was India). She had a unique beauty to her, that you only saw once, maybe twice in a lifetime. Her eyes matched her hair, dark walnut in colour, and she looked at me as if she was picking apart my soul. Unlike the other territories, who broke down and conformed to every little thing England wanted, India still had her fight. She didn't wear England's clothes, she spoke in her native tongue (except when to converse to other territories; it was our only common ground), and she broke out into a fight with England whenever possible (sometimes physical, but usually verbal and moral). She was, in short, a ticking timebomb.
"What causes you to act as such? You listen to England, and you do what he says, but you look so scornful when you do it. You want to fight him, but you were brought up different, weren't you?"
She was partially correct. China raised me to be respectful of my elders, but I still had a vendetta against him. It was sort of my stab at China's teachings.
"What of it?" I asked, more then a bit upset. She laughed at me with her eyes, her expression, however, still serious.
"You are not the only one who is upset by the outcome of what had happened. Did you know that?" She picked up the book from where it had fallen, leafing through the pages.
"What are you suggesting?" I asked now that she had my full attention.
"Have you seen how England's gone from being a brash, happy-go-lucky dictator to a brash, not so happy-go-lucky dictator? Why do you think that is?" She continued looking through the book, like this conversation was a waste of time.
"He lost money." My answer wasn't as convincing as I thought it sounded, because India laughed dryly.
"You cannot be so naïve," she sang, throwing the book back to me. I caught it with little difficulty. The corner hit my sternum, however, creating a dull pain which made me wince.
"Tell me you are not naïve," she commanded, her voice flatter then before. "England and China were obviously more close then that."
I narrowed my eyes in contemplation. I already knew China had held England in high regard, but India's tone suggested something more. I stared at her, waiting for her to continue.
"Alright. How about this? Every time I was sent in place of England for trade with China, I was always received with a melancholy smile and an 'oh well' to go with it." She finished her sentence with an exposed tongue and knitted eyebrows.
I knew what she was implying.
"Even so," I said, standing up and striding over to her, "Why would England be upset with this? I have heard he won the Second Opium War, and now the cards are played in his favour."
"But at what cost?"
India took a long look at me, made a small "Hmph!" and sauntered off, leaving me quite confused.