Author owns nothing. Gets nothing for this, except some praise :D Also, I am filling other requests. For an UKxUSxFrance threesome, finishing improbable, writing the next chapter of Foolish Notions, Just call me Wife, and Last Cry of the Humans.
They are coming I promise you. I have gotten the PM's and am working on them. I am just stuck in some places. Give me a day or three.
DeviantRox,
"Are you going to write a one-shot featuring them in the 1700s? I know you already have a similar story to that, but I am really curious about the last "scenario" mentioned"
Well, now I am going to. XD
The Basic idea is that instead of taxing America, which caused the Revolution (Mostly), he sold her to the Netherlands to cover the cost of his war. So America never trained with Prussia or rebelled. ****THIS IS AN AU! NOT HISTORICALLY ACCURATE. ****
I own nothing. You know that already. Rated M.
OoOoOo
He'd sold her.
England.
How could he have sold her? Granted, she did understand just how dire of straights he had been in. His near constant war with France was not something she participated in. It was also true that England had given her incredible freedoms and support for a Colony.
So, perhaps, in this way she could show her appreciation. She could bear this with humility and bravery. She had to. The ink had already dried upon the agreement and her educated peoples were learning Dutch as the new official language of her lands. For she had...
An new sovereign nation.
Well, he was not wholly New, but he had given up on her much earlier on in her youth. Now she was larger, older, and hopefully wiser. America wrung her hands as waited for the Netherlands to arrive. England waited patiently with her, just a few feet away.
They had not spoken since she had taken his announcement so poorly. There was a stain now, on a beautiful hide that would never come out. Black ink had been scattered about as she had attempted to dissuade England from selling her like chattel.
It was of no use. He used a spilled puddle to coat his quill and signed his name with a flourish. The act was done. She was property of the Netherlands and his rulers. Her people did not have quite the negative reaction that America did.
Their taxes would not be raised to the extremes and the levies currently in place were being reduced. It gave a favorable impression of the new governing body.
For America, however, it was breaking her heart.
His study had once been a place for her to hide as he found her, they would play for hours when he returned. But, she was older now, and the tidings he brought were so shocking that they turned her stomach in disbelief.
"Must you do this wicked thing?" She cried out in desperation at his stony expression.
"I must," England confirmed lowly, though there was mirrored heartbreak in his eyes.
Tears clouded her blue orbs.
"I do not wish to leave you."
"I do not want for you to go," he continued, with his back rigid and his voice was pained.
"I beg of thee, do not do this. There must be another way!"
England shook his head, looking far older than his youthful appearance.
"This is the only way America. But, let us not quarrel. Come. Let me hold you and be glad of you, just once more."
Hot tears spilled on her cheeks as she ran into his arms. Still furious, but understanding that this was the last time he could hold her and stroke her hair. The last time he could whisper words of comfort and praise as they embraced. Her hands clutched at his shoulders as he held her tightly.
Neither of them wanting to part, but knowing it had to be so.
"When will he arrive?" She questioned in a soft mumble, that was partially muted by his shoulder.
"Before the fall of night." England said, with a thick voice laden in sorrow and regret. He kissed the crown of her head gently, with sincere affection.
He'd had servants from his home dress and bathe America. She did not resist them, for she could hurt them in all earnest if she attempted to shove them away.
A childish part of her prompted in the back of her thoughts.
"What if I refuse?"
"Then I shall be held responsible." England answered honestly and America closed her eyes. Even though she was furious, scared, and hurt... she could not do that to England.
"Then... I shall go."
And that sentence along with the signed agreement of purchase, sealed her fate.
Now the bitter salt air stung at her eyes, and America stood silently, away from England. She no longer belonged to him and it would be improper to be any closer. The last rays of the afternoon sun were beginning to set, and she tried not to be more nervous than was needed.
OoOoOo
He had arrived, at last. In a ship not entirely dissimilar to England's. The flag of his nation was hoisted over the vessel proudly.
A tall man, with blonde hair and a neutral expression was the last to board the dock. He had a pipe in his mouth and puffed at it gently. America scrutinized his face, attempting to commit it to the vague memory she already possessed of him.
Her hands clasped together tightly and she kept her posture near-perfect. England drew closer, striding purposefully toward the other male nation. She waited, watching silently, as they exchanged pleasantries. England did not look pleased as he handed over the signed agreement.
The Netherlands smiled widely, looking highly amused. She noticed that he had something clutched in his other hand, but she could not make out what. England turned toward her, his face pale with reluctance. He nodded only once, and she slightly inclined her own head. She willed herself not to cry. She could not cry in front of them. It would only hurt England more. If she had to, she would pray to God for forgiveness later, she'd lie through her teeth and state that she was amenable to the new arrangements.
It was their final farewell. A simple tipping of heads in acknowledgement as England stiffly bowed to the Netherlands and took his leave. Her blue eyes trailed after him, trying not to beg him to stay and say it was all but a poor jest. To stay with her, as he had never done all the other times she pleaded.
America stiffened at the sounds of approaching footsteps. The Netherlands leisurely strolled toward her.
He gave a slight bow to her. America responded with a shallow curtsey.
"Would you be so kind," he said in accented English, "as to tell me where I might find America?"
She stared at him blankly, or perhaps as if he possessed no wits. Then again, it might have been jest on his part.
"You have found her," she responded softly with a wan smile.
"Have I?" He questioned and looked about, his head turning in both directions.
She placed a hand over her heart.
"I am America, My lord."
His green eyes widened marginally, and his pipe drooped as hi jaw slackened. The Netherlands took a few puffs as he took in the sight of her.
"England," her rumbled at last, "neglected to mention that you had..."
"Grown?"
"Yes, and how much."
A faint shade of pink flushed his features as he put something behind his back. Whatever had been so tightly clutched in his hand. She blinked at him, perplexed.
"England did permit me many liberties to help my colonies." She admitted, slightly distracted. "Forgive my boldness, but what is behind your back?"
Sometimes, her child-like curiosity still bested her manners. America leaned over, to try and get a better look at it.
The Netherlands cleared his throat.
"It is a present... for you. However, now I must admit, that it seems you will not enjoy it."
Her expression morphed into even more curiosity and a tiny smidgen of excitement. She did enjoy presents and it was rather kind of her new Sovereign Kingdom to think of her so. America blinked at him, slightly expectantly.
Slowly, the Netherlands brought the object out from behind his back, and she stretched out her hands to take it. Her fingers wrapped around it, and she glanced at it in wonder.
Bound in cloth, that her hands quickly moved to the side, was a doll with a painted wooden face. She had on a colorful frock and the stitching was very well done. A toy. America smiled genuinely. He'd brought her a child's toy, because he had believed she was still a child.
How... endearing.
It gentled her fear for the unknown, and her mistrust of him. It did not lessen her sorrow for the loss of England, but the simple gesture touched her heart. A heart, once called 'New Amsterdam'.
"You have my thanks," she said softly, and held the doll to her midsection.
The Netherlands appeared faintly embarrassed by the turn of events. He took another puff of his pipe, his green eyes lingered on her face.
"I thought... that you were smaller. I had not realized you were a woman, almost fully grown."
She blushed softly at his words, and glanced away. Her cheeks pinked, uncertain of how to reply. Except to follow the standard that England had set for other foreigners.
"It is lovely," she praised sincerely, and a true smile bloomed on her lips. Her face was changed by her merriment, and her blue eyes glittered with thin hope.
He started at her, and she looked away.
"Welcome, My lord, to the Colonies of America" America said after a moment and dropped into a deeper curtsey. "May they please you."
Something swirled in his eyes, and America in her innocence could not place what it was. It looked close to delight, or hunger.
"I have a feeling that you will please me, very much."
OoOoOo
The sea voyage back to his lands to meet the members of the House of Orange-Nassau, was uneventful. They would give her new instructions for how she was to govern across the seas. It would be different from England's rule, and America fretted over that.
He was not a monarchy, as England was. At least, not independently. America had been further surprised to find that the Netherlands had a few other toys in the trunk of her cabin. Obviously suited more for a small child. However, she traced them with her fingers gently and to ease some of her boredom, she played with the doll before sleeping.
It was sweet, in a sense, that he had put forth so much effort for a child he had only seen once. Granted, she was no longer a child, but it still strummed on the strings of her heart as to what sort of man the Netherlands was.
And, admittedly, he was a striking figure with green eyes, not so terribly unlike England. Yet, they were different, somehow. They seemed to see her differently, though America could not put her thumb on the matter. Sometimes the way the light caught his eyes, they seemed darker and more intent upon her than others.
The Netherlands hardly spoke to her during the voyage. When he did, he was exceedingly civil and even playful. America had begun to slowly return his grins with shy smiles of her own. Het thoughts were still very conflicted, and she missed England keenly.
Yet, the blow was softened by the fact that she was actually leaving her shores for the first time. There was fear, excitement, and a strange giddiness that filled her every waking thought about the strange land that Netherlands called his home.
She hoped that she might make a favorable impression and that they could get along well enough. She was half surprised that England had not chosen to sell her to Russia, who had expressed an interest once. With a silent and quick prayer, she asked for protection for both England and Russia. Russia, who had been unfailingly kind to her.
Briefly, she wondered if he had even heard the news. It was entirely possible that he had.
America glanced at the door once more, before deciding that perhaps it was time for some fresh air.
OoOoOo
The Netherlands did not stop his eyes from wandering to the bright head of hair that slowly strode on the deck. He watched as she leaned closer to the rails, and looked out over the vast sea. It seemed nearly unending. Part of him loved that about the high seas. The freedom and the ability to simply feel the wind pass across your face was close to bliss.
Yet, there was a stirring in him for something more than he'd thought possible toward the colony that was wholly his now. He had, in a slight oversight, assumed she was still the little girl she had been. The one that he wasn't terribly interested in, as long as she was safe it did not matter what she did to him.
Then England had gained control over the colonies, and the Netherlands had not been bothered to continue to hold out for New Amsterdam. Which is what he had called her. Now however, she was 'America'. Though that could be subject to changed, depending upon what his government thought of the matter.
The wind ruffled her hair, and he narrowed green eyes on the way she brushed the straying locks out of her face. The movements bore little grace, but somehow it was endearing. As was the way she turned to look at him, as if she could sense him nearby. Likely she could. They were connected now. It was his job to protect her and she in turn would help with trade and defense should he ever need it.
He wondered if England had ever even taught her how to fight. Instinct warned him that she probably knew nothing of it, and that made a baser part of him wish to keep her from what violence he could. He was as strong, if not slightly stronger than England, for his country was not depleted do to drawn out wars.
As a nation, he was well pleased with his purchase. America was bustling with trade, and revenue. Her people had received his sovereignty well, which he appreciated. All they asked for in return was some representation for their people. They would continue to act as a colony to the Netherlands, but fulfill all the obligations they had under English rule in addition to a few more.
Provided he gave them a representative, of course.
Something he had acquiesced to. It made a strange amount of sense to give them a voice, since they would be filling his coffers so nicely.
However, he couldn't help but wonder as if he'd gained another treasure in the process. Something even more valuable than currency.
Her blue eyes locked with his and the young woman gave a gentle if not timid smile. He enjoyed seeing her smile at him. It made his chest ache slightly. The thought stole over him that she could turn out to be infinitely precious to him. Also, that he would never be alone again, as he had been when Belgium remained with Spain.
America, was his now. She depended upon him, and needed him in a certain capacity. It felt rather... nice. To be needed for something other than war or trade.
He grinned at her, and laughed softly at his own internal ramblings.
She looked at him in a manner that suggested she was still pondering how things were supposed to work between them. He'd given thought to that himself. He was not bound with a child after all, but a woman.
Perhaps, what he originally planned should have been cast to the wayside. Perhaps... just maybe... he should treat her as the woman she was. Well, the woman she would be, by his side.
OoOoOo
His government was charmed by her and her easy merriment. America was a remarkably happy and humble colony. She started at his home, as if it were the grandest palace upon the whole of the Earth. It was impressive, at least he thought so.
She stared at the nearly unending fields of tulips in wonder. For a single moment, he thought she might try to smell each individual one. She'd never seen their like before and was enraptured at the sight of them.
Most of his land was flat and winds blew nearly constantly, but America would stare at the windmills that moved in near unison upon the flat plains. They were practical. Used to mill, and keep out water. His people were incredible at making sure the water stayed at bay. They built dykes, fortifications... and the windmills.
She gasped and laughed when he explained how they worked. Her blue eyes were wide as she took the image they presented against the landscape, in.
The Netherlands felt a smile tug at his lips. She was... easily fascinated. America was still child-like in some respects, but that seemed to simply be her natural personality. It was pleasing, to see her so thoroughly impressed by his peoples hard work.
"Are you hungry?" He asked, knowing that she must be famished. They had hardly stopped all day, in his effort to familiarize her with his country.
America nodded, not nearly as shy now.
"Indeed, I am."
"Come, we will go back and get you something."
He gestured for her, but she must have misunderstood the meaning, for her delicate hand wrapped around his arm, and she waited for him to start walking.
The Netherlands stared down at here she touched him, quite willingly, and that same smile tugged at his lips again.
"Right this way," he murmured, realizing she thought he was escorting her. It was an... English behavior, he was certain.
She smiled at him brightly and he felt something in him tighten in joy. He'd seen many things in his lifetime, both good and bad, but he'd never witnessed anyone so genuinely happy to be with him. He only half listened as she chattered on, with a thousand questions he patiently answered.
He had also learned that America greatly enjoyed talking.
The Netherlands was still neutral to that particular quirk.
OoOoOo
They became friendly, at a very fast pace. America took very little time to stifle her shyness as they spent the days together. Soon, he would have to return her to her lands for a period of time, but she would officially live with him, when he came to collect her for a few months out of the year.
She confided in him that she missed her brother, Canada, who was still under British rule. The Netherlands could not recall England even mentioning Canada in the negotiation. England had offered America, the one he believed to be more of a profit, so of more immediate benefit. The Netherlands also understood that England would not have been able to part with both of them at once.
The Netherlands could barely stand to part from her now.
America took an interest in even his mundane tasks. She wanted to learn and to know. If the Netherlands expressed an opinion over certain thing, rulings, or other nations. She was always laughing at things he said in biting wit.
She had the tendency to play tricks on him as well, not maliciously, but more often than not something of his would disappear only to reappear in the most inconvenient place. Or the over salted food that randomly had the strange habit of appearing on his plate.
Though, America always looked like the picture of innocence when she turned pink and tried to deny that she had anything to do with it.
Yet, a fondness grew for her through those silly ways she acted. Or how well she got along with Belgium. When the pair had first met, there was curiosity on both sides. However, America had all but plastered herself to Belgium's side, talking animatedly about how she hoped they could be the dearest of friends.
His sister nation, not used to such and exuberant -as well as painfully sincere- statement, had been unable to do much more than smile along. Then as they spoke, America actually managed to make Belgium chuckle behind her hand.
Before the Netherlands could do much more than blink, Belgium hauled America outside with the promise of returning later. And, a few weeks later, when he overheard America call Belgium 'sister', he felt his heart quicken.
America could be Belgium's sister in one way, and the thought was growing more merit as the first streams of revenue poured in from the Colonies. Even at the reduced tax rate the Netherlands had established, he was gaining quite a profit to make up for the expenditure of gaining America from England.
It also helped that his people gained a small infatuation for the 'Colonial Americans' and how they were more described as barbarians roughing it out in the untamed wilderness. Though that part was not wholly true. Yet, when his governing heads met America, they were as charmed by her smile and blue eyes as The Netherlands was.
The strange and exotic things sent from 'The New World', filled the shops in his cities, and the he could sense the buzzing of talk about America.
OoOoOo
Things changed between them drastically on a bright, sunny day as they strolled through his garden. The blooms were sweet and heavily scented, and America spoke to him about things that they had discussed for the past few days.
What was to be done with her?
What was her place in his world?
The questions were said candidly, with a deep respect for the Nation that provided her with protection and his presence.
He had a very good answer. One carefully thought out, and overseen by his advisors. Honestly, he had a whole speech planned.
Instead, he reached out and tilted her chin upward, so that he could place a kiss upon her lips.
When the nation pulled back, America had been stunned into silence and a rosy blush stained her cheeks in twin spots of color.
"I believe that states my feelings on the matter quite clearly," he told her with a soft grin.
Her gaze seemed misty, and her lips parted in a silent gasp. She did not move to pull away, but her fingers went o her lips as she felt them.
The Netherlands continued walking, and after a moment, he heard her hurried footsteps trailing behind him.
OoOoOo
America grew.
The Netherlands waited patiently.
He watched it with hooded eyes, as a few years trickled past in the blink of an eye. With the newest acquisition of land, she aged to a woman. Her blonde hair was longer than Belgium's, but only just so.
She was beautiful, and he wanted her. Even though he had her. Well, technically, at least. Though Russia had made him an offer just a year before, when the air turned crisp with the promise of snow.
He had informed Russia with an unforgiving stare, that America was not for sale, and she never would be. The largest nation had taken it all in stride and with a grace that nearly off-put The Netherlands. Russia was being entirely reasonable.
And, simply making an offer was nothing to get into an argument over.
America also appeared to favor Russia over some of the Netherlands own allies, which mystified him to no end. What precisely did Russia do to make America like him so?
He wanted to ask, but did not want to pressure his no-longer-little colony. America seemed to twinkle as brightly as the stars, whenever he came to collect her for the months she spent at his home. Her people welcomed him graciously, as if he were their own personification, and it made him smile at how merry Americans were.
She met him upon the docks, as she had those few short years ago. He noticed that her style of clothing had change a bit, but not terribly much. She waved to him enthusiastically as she raced toward him.
Already she chattered, asking him about his voyage, and she stated that she missed him.
A feeling tugged at his heart sharply, as he caught her up in his embrace. She laughed softly, gazing at his face.
Tensions between her and the Colony Canada had grown, but England and the Netherlands had smoothed it out as best as they could. Disputes over territory were never easy, and the barrier was clearly drawn now so that there would be no misunderstandings.
However, as always happens, the gentle peace did not last long. France... had become a problem. A problem the Netherlands could not ignore. And, because he could not ignore it, neither could America.
He was forced to train America. For her own defense. For the French were starting to make threats of wishing to occupy the Netherlands. Something he would never permit. America listened to his instruction, and practiced without fail. More than once, he caught site of Belgium with her.
America's brow was puckered in concentration as Belgium ran her through military strategies, and physical trials. All for the colony's benefit, he knew. Yet, it was a surprise that she would so openly defy Spain and come to offer guidance to a Dutch colony.
Or, perhaps, that is why it was not so strange. America was for all intents and purposes, a sister nation to Belgium. Dutch by law, and decree.
OoOoOo
America had now seen several wars. Ones that he wished, heartily, he could have spared her from. Yet, her people were of strong will and mind. They would honor the agreement made, as the Netherlands had honored them with listening.
She was at his side, a fury not to be taken lightly, -Even he had cause to pause to watch her in battle-, during every battle he entered. The Anglo-Dutch Java War, The Padri War, The Java War proper, and the Belgian revolution.
America, had insisted on helping with that one. Her blue eyes were defiant as she insisted. The Netherlands could not deny her.
Soon, his colony's people were not content with their status, they clamored for the right to become a true nation. After much debate with his Monarchy and ruling council, it was granted. The Netherlands recognized America for what she was to be. His equal.
And when she had her own flag, one that resembled his, with the Dutch Monarchy symbol in the corner on a field of blue, and red and white stripes... He could act upon the urges he had carried for so very long.
The Netherlands could make her his, in a whole different manner of speaking. As he sailed the long voyage to her shores now, though her landscape had greatly changed, he was excited. Far beyond excited, he was nearly a man possessed.
He took her back with him, but this time, when they reached his shores, he was unwilling to send her off to her lands again without the playful flirting changed between them. He'd kissed her a few times, while she blushed and smiled afterward.
Once, things had gotten heated in the moonlight, as he sought to have her nearly melt into him. The taste of her on his lips was slowly enticing him to the sweetest sort of madness. The kind that burned at his veins with thick want that pooled in his most vital regions.
His hand were buried in her golden hair, causing it to muss and fallout from its artful arrangement, and pulled her upon his lap. The cool grass was at his back, and the heat of her warmth was above him. America could have pulled away, or left, if she so chose. Yet, she stayed.
She trusted him.
And, because of that, he had not taken it further. The moon saw them twine in a lover's embrace that did not consummate their reciprocal desires.
But this time, since she had matured more, and they truly knew each other now, it would be different. She had been tested in the fires of war, and remained loyal to him. Nothing could have been more appealing. In fact, he felt a touch of nervousness as she smiled at him, waiting for him to say something.
Instead he took her by the hand and lead her to his bedchambers. America blushed, with wide blue eyes, understanding what he was doing.
"I leave the choice to you," he said just outside the door, as he watched her intently with hope, and nervousness lingering in his gaze.
He did not need to explain. America knew what he was saying. She could choose to walk away from him, and continue as they were. Innocent lovers. Or, she could make the choice to be more than that. To be lovers in all senses.
She swallowed, her cheeks stained red, as she lowered her head slightly. The new nation tried to calm the butterflies hatching in her stomach. She had thoughts about this, she could not deny. She had wanted him for nearly as long as she had been with him.
With a trembling hand, she pushed open the door, and walked inside. She made it about five feet, before she turned back to him with a timid smile. Obvious consent, and it was all he needed. The Netherlands followed her in.
Clothing was discarded slowly, as if he were unwrapping the most delicate of treasures. America, she needed to be lead by him through this intimacy, for he knew that England would never have touched her in such a way. The Netherlands, had not taken her to his bed before this day either.
She was... enchanting. In the way she gazed at him, with such stark vulnerability and innocent arousal. He needed to feel all of her. To touch and taste the skin beneath his hands. America gave soft and breathy moans of approval, as he pushed her more toward the bed, nearly falling down upon her as they tumbled to the sheets below.
He knew why she trembled, for he was close to trembling himself. It was the culmination of prolonged un-slaked need on both their parts, and perhaps, a bit of trepidation on hers. Yet, America did not pull away, or ask him to stop.
Instead she twined her arms around his neck, as he kissed her with all the passion he possessed. Before he moved on to trail kisses in more intimate places. Her arms fell to her sides, but could not stay their long. She touched his face, ran her fingers through his hair.
Lovingly.
They both voiced with their bodies, things that were too deep to be voiced with mere words alone.
Her voice was soft, as she called his name. It caused him to look up and see that she was his most arousing dreams come to life in his very arms. The Netherlands wasted no time is shedding his own clothing, until they were full skin upon skin.
The nearness and closeness they were experiencing was driving him wild, and he knew that America was no better off.
"I'll never leave you," he gutturally promised as he kissed her shoulder. America tossed her head to the side and moaned deeply with desire. She had never... felt this way before.
"Nor I, you." She swore with such open devotion that it made his heart ache sweetly.
"What we will do, cannot be easily undone. Do you understand?" He pressed the matter as she looked into his eyes.
Her head turned, and she stared at him for a moment. A tender look blossomed on her beautiful face.
"Yes," she replied, and it was the sweetest agreement he had ever heard.
With a lustful sound of joy, he surged forward, and nestled himself in the silken folds of her body. America wrapped her arms around him, wincing slightly but offered up her lips, which he greedily kissed with his own. They were together in a way she had never joined with him before.
It was perfect, in its honest simplicity. As he made love to her the way he had ached to do for decades. His touch was tender, his kisses left her lips swollen but wanting more. She arched into his body, craving more of him, needing more of what only he could give her.
Until, at last, he brought her to the plateau of pleasure that had her crying out his name.
The most wonderful cries he had ever heard.
OoOoOo
WORLD WAR II
The Netherlands had sought to warn them, but Germany and Prussia did not listen.
He had, however, trained America very well. And when he called for her, she came with hundreds of thousands of men, weapons, and the fury of a woman with her love on the line. Russia and the other allies were impressed and startled by how viciously she attacked. The way in which she spun fake military forces to fool the Germans, and how her marines charged the beachfront with thousands of others for a frontal assault so bloody that it defied true description.
The Dutch-American relations were marked as one of the strongest relations in history. There was debate between their closeness and that of Anglo-Australian relations, as to who was more uniquely tied.
America shared the Netherlands culture now, trade cooperation, investments, language, and even sports were tied together tightly. The Netherlands had promised to never let her go, whispered in darkness as their touches stroked each other to new heights of passion; and he never had.
For well over three centuries, America had been with the Netherlands. Though the larger of the two, she was unforgiving when it came to threats against him. She was his enforcer, and he never called her to the battle field unless it was absolutely needed.
Germany had hoped that she would attempt to remain neutral. As the Netherlands had declared on the 10th of May, 1940. Yet, on May 14th, 1940, German forces bombed Rotterdam.
And, America came in swinging. Having amassed munitions, aid, and weapons, per his request for a year or so before. The first bomb fell, and within the hour, the first America fighter squad took to the skies, and her naval units launched.
The governing body, and the royal family escaped to American soils safely. The Netherlands had time to lead them to safety as his men fought bravely. He knew the exact moment America came for him. He could sense her on his lands, and as his blue eyes caught a glimpse of her, the skies overhead roared to life with gunfire.
She held out her hand to him, hollering for him to move. He did so, bringing the people up from the rear.
When he reached her, she buried herself in his chest and they kissed, feeling like it might be their last chance to do so.
Her presence, early on, tilted things in the favor of the allies, and kept his lands from German occupation. America's men, combined with the Dutch forces, fought fiercely, making the Netherlands not worth the effort to expend troops. The personification, slung his arm around her shoulder as she flipped the retreating forces the Bird.
The next day, she sent her forces to Belgium, for after all, she could not leave her sister nation in harm's way.
OoOoOo
PRESENT DAY
America had been her own nation for quite some time, but she often wondered what would have happened if she had ended up with anyone other than the Netherlands. Or if she had stayed with England.
She imagined that she would have close ties with him, as Australia did. In fact, when Canada had declared independence from England, America had been shocked. Though she and Canada had good relations, thanks in part to the fact that Canada had good relations with the Netherlands; America never quite trusted her northern neighbor as she trusted the Netherlands.
His fingers entwined with hers, at the world meeting, and she smiled fondly. They were together, always. Even in the meetings they were never parted. And, they both preferred it that way. There was one time Denmark had attempted to sit between them, and the look the Netherlands had leveled in his direction had been priceless.
America chuckled at the memory, as the Netherlands glanced at her. A question in his eyes. What they were discussing today, she had hardly listened to anyway. He tapped the top of her hand with his thumb.
"What?"
"Nothing," she replied leaning into kiss him. "Just happy."
"You always are," he teased lightly.
"Well... I'm always with you."
He grinned at that.
"And, you always will be."
It was a promise, much like the first one he'd given her. One that he'd never broken. Mutual love and devotion.