Bittersweet Victories
Patriot thoughts
Loyalist thoughts
Date person thinking (assume it's America if not otherwise indicated)
Section Title
Hey guys, I recorded a little song for this fic. Here! :/ www .youtube watch?v=FgW6_9FejQE&feature=plcp
Yes I am well aware that I sound horrible, but I had a sore throat. I'll record something nicer later. Maybe.
WARNING: Extremely Patriotic thoughts, but what did you expect? PLUS! Lot's of "Swearing for effect". That means bad words guys. Which is why it's rated teen. And America hears voices, Prussia returns, Poland wants a cavalry, Spain accidentally gets turned on, and France… France just wants to punch England in the eyebrows. Just once. I think you readers can handle it. Hetalians are made of tough stuff.
Also, I don't own Hetalia, just thought I'd put that out there.
Double also, this is NOT a romance story. Don't be fooled.
….ooooOOOOoooo….
The gilded cage of the America-bird.
The little blond eagle was misunderstood.
She didn't want war, she wanted representation.
But then battles were fought in the bright young nation.
Rights weren't being granted, so America decided
To declare independence so she couldn't be blindsided.
Hoped that would be the end,
But then friend turned on friend.
….ooooOOOOoooo….
April First, 1774, Boston Harbor is MINEAmerica
This better be a fucking joke.
My harbor. MY HARBOR. Not yours England. Not yours you back-stabber. Betrayer. Traitor to-
She was the back-stabber. She was the betrayer. She was the traitor. Her. Me.
Well she should be angry at any rate. He closed Boston Harbor! Now she couldn't feel part of her back and her right arm felt numb. So not cool. This is going to end in bloodshed, isn't it? I don't want bloodshed, I just want rights.
That I technically shouldn't get anyway. I'm a girl.
But now she was very angry. I have half a mind to sail to England and punch the wanker right across the face, stupid British man.
But she was technically British wasn't she? Who needs more independence anyway? I'm perfectly content under England. I'm his colony, it's my duty to obey him. He's my big brother, and he knows best. He already gives me plentyof freedom.
NO! I want rights! I want to be able to make my own decisions!
No, I'm a British colony. I shouldn't try to be free. I should be respectful. I answer to England.
I don't want to be free, that was merely a moment of madness. I honestly just want a say in how my affairs are run! I'm happy staying under him, but I want proper representation.
I get enough already. I don't need representation, England is doing the right thing for me. He's always right.
Damn. She hated loyalists. GTFO Tories. Go to Canada or something. Stop shaking my resolve, I want more rights.
No I don't.
Yes I fucking do. Now shut the hell up and become a minority!
1775 Lexington and Concord Well, mainly Lexington
Oh, so now she couldn't trade?! How dare he. I'm pissed beyond words.
"Leave me alone," America hissed at Paulie. She was apprenticed to the silversmith. He was a pretty chill guy and she felt kinda bad for hissing at him. She was leaving soon, and didn't want to part with him on a bad note. For America knew the Redcoats were coming. She knew it as surely as the sun rises in the morning that there was going to be a battle. Technically her country had been to battle before, but she'd never been allowed to fight in it before.
She moved to Lexington. It was the place. America knew it would be here. Her first battle.
And one morning, she woke up to Paulie screaming about redcoats coming. America shot out of bed and pulled on her "uniform", joining the other 76 minute-men prepared to fight for America- for HER! And damn, didn't that just make her feel special!
The Redcoats were shocked to see them. America smirked but couldn't help but notice that England wasn't there.
And then she fired the shot heard round the world.
..
(A/N I'm pretty sure it was a British gun that was fired first (by accident actually), but let's face it, this America would shoot first, even if she didn't want war.)
..
Johnny Jones at your service
Fuck Yeah I'm in the army. Suck on my non-existent American balls England. Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do, huh?
I need to think of other things while training. America looked down at the poor soul in front of her. She had nearly sliced off his head with an inexperienced swoop of bayonet. Oops.
"Supper! Come and eat."
America collected a bowl of soup and wondered where to sit. She'd already scared the absolute shit out of half these men with her strength, and it hadn't even been half a day. Plus they didn't know she was their country, so it wasn't like they would be falling over themselves to be friends with her. Not that she wanted them to.
Spotting a boy sitting alone on a moss-covered log, America approached him. He looked about fifteen, same as her, though of course she was far older. He was Scottish, she could tell her citizens' origins with a glance. Oh, that's strange. Most of the Scottish are on the other side.
"Hey, mind if I sit here?" America asked.
He jumped and looked up at her, suspicion in his brown eyes as his red hair glinted in the fading light.
"With me?"
"No, I'm talking to the invisible kid next ta ya." America said. Damn, whenever she analyzed another person she would talk a bit like them for a while.
He cracked a grin. "Johnny, Johnny Jones. Go ahead and sit"
America did so. "Pleasure to meetcha Johnny. I'm Alfred Kirkland."
"Where are you from Alfie?" Johnny asked.
"I've spent most of my life in Virginia, but I moved up to Boston a couple years ago." Not true, but the truth would freak this kid out.
"I was born here in Boston, but my parents are Scottish."
"Cool. I've always lived in America, but my brother's in the British Army. Pretty high up too."
Johnny looked at her, an expression of pity on his face. "You're fighting against family?"
"No, I'm fighting for myself." She said.
Johnny didn't ask for an elaboration. America didn't give one. The two, both too young to realize what would come, sat and looked out over the camp, talking and laughing and getting to know one another better. America learned that Johnny was an only child after his mother had died in childbirth with his younger sister when Johnny was five. He ran a farm with his father and was an excellent cook with a wonderful imagination and an interesting sense of humor.
The night fell and the fireflies danced through the air, swirling in patterns only they knew. America traced the paths with her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering England's fairies. They would only come when England was gone. They weren't here now. England's presence was still here. And America didn't mind, she wanted some comfort. But America did mind the way his presence lingered in her resolve, and the way it curled and darkened in the corners, far from the bright yellow of the center. She loved her big brother, but he had far too much say in her life. She knew she could be trusted to handle more than he let her. But he wouldn't even give her that chance to explain that.
….
1775, The Battle of Bunker Hill
They worked long into the night fortifying the hill. America looked bleary-eyed up at the hint of rising sun in the East.
"Come on Alfred," Johnny tugged at her sleeve. "We need to get some rest if we want to be able to fight later."
America nodded and her eyes closed into a sleep full of hammers and tea leaves.
….
Her eyes snapped open. It was time. She got dressed quickly and looked out on the English camp. One of the soldiers was staring in open-mouthed awe at the now-fortified hill. He spotted her and shook himself before presumably going to find his General. All she could do at the moment was stand and watch.
"Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes!"
America passed along the message. "C'mon men, if we shoot too early, we'll run out of ammunition. Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes!"
Johnny passed it on, and soon the message had reached all the American soldiers. The line of red advanced and America smirked, tugging at the brown hunting shirt that blended her into the side of the hill.
Looks like being the humble one in the family will finally pay off. Minus Canada of course. Thinking of Canada, her people were invading his lands. She didn't like it, but there wasn't anything she could do. No one would listen. Just like England never did. And that was why they were in this mess in the first place.
….
The battlefield was bloodstained and covered in bodies. Mostly British ones. She passed what looked like the soldier from earlier and bile rose up in her throat as her thoughts went Loyalist. She managed to struggle back somehow, but if this went on for much longer she'd end up surrendering.
MY OWN PEOPLE!
Not mine. His.
All of us are united under the same flag!
I should get a new flag for my own to fly alongside it. With stars. I like stars.
I should stay with England! He raised me.
No, my Unitsi did.
But the savage is gone now. I can live as I was meant to be, a proper British colony.
I was meant to have rights. And if I can't get rights, I will have freedom. And she was my mother, not a savage.
Oh gosh, I'm a traitor. The scum of the earth. A betrayer.
I just want to be represented. No taxation without representation. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not.
"Hey Alfred, it's okay. We didn't win, but we proved ourselves worthy of their time! We won't just be shoved aside as a quick little uprising!" Johnny's voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. America shook her head and her thoughts righted themselves.
America felt powerful now. Johnny was right. They hadn't won, but she had proven herself worthy of rights. She had just proven to England that she could take care of herself. She reached up and grabbed Johnny's outstretched hand, pulling herself up.
"What do you eat? Rocks?"
America smirked. In a technical sense, I do weigh so much because of rocks, but definitely not the way he thinks. "No, just horrible British food."
Johnny gave a little laugh, somewhat subdued due to the carnage around them.
America had a good feeling about the next fight. She might even win.
….
First months of 1776 Battles
She had seen blood and gore far beyond what most "her age" had. She had felt the aches in her chest as cannons fired. America had watched, through blue eyes covered by waterfalls of blood from the cut on her forehead, horrors beyond Earth as she struggled to stand up. *And this wasn't even a war. She didn't want to see what a true war would look like.
….
July 4th, 1776 Happy birthday. Soon...
America nodded at the sheet of paper that declared her freedom. She wasn't so naive as to think that England would simply accept it, but right now she didn't care. It was a peaceful declaration of her freedom, and she liked it. She didn't want these battles, she just wanted the rights that were being denied to her. And she would only get those by being her own nation.
"Are you alright America?"
It was Tommy. Well, Thomas Jefferson because she wasn't really supposed to call him Tommy. "I'm all good Thomas. Worry about the Declaration being fully signed."
He looked her over skeptically.
"Really, I'm fine. Just a little worried about the reaction. It's supposed to be peaceful, but I'm worried it'll start something even bigger. Maybe even a full-fledged war."
"You should be." Benny said seriously. "Because it very well might."
"Yes sir Mr. Franklin sir!" America snapped to attention, bringing a smile to some of the other's lips.
"Where do you get your energy?" Asked Tommy in amazement.
"I'm America." America smiled. "I don't run out of energy."
"If only I could be a young man again," A man muttered.
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm a couple hundred years older than you. True story." America clapped him on the back then nodded to Tommy and Benny. Flashing a small grin she hurried off to meet General Washington so she could get back where she should be. On the tear-stained battlefield of blood, fighting for her rights. No, that was wrong.
Now she was fighting for her independence.
And I will not accept failure.
….
Winter, 1776 How cold can you go?
It was cold. That was all America could properly process. Fear and snow froze her to her bones as she was forced to huddle with the other men so she wouldn't die. By Christmas, none of them figured it out, thank god, and the experience shared by those who survived brought them closer as a group. America would put her life, had she technically had one, on the line for any of the other soldiers. America finally started to relax a bit, knowing that things could only get better from here.
Then why did that knowledge feel incorrect?
….
Don't freak out. Yes, he has New York City, but I'll get it back. I just have to sail across this cold as fuck river to Trenton. Delaware river, if you tip me over, I will come and haunt you in the afterlife! Because I will have brought you with me.
The river really was "cold as fuck."
Johnny made dramatic, exaggerated, and extremely obnoxious chattering teeth noises. America gave him a look.
You moron, we're trying to be sneaky!
He just flashed a grin and put his back into rowing.
Asshole.
But they did it. Georgie had just pulled that plan out of nowhere and it had actually worked! Looks like we might possibly stand a chance.
1777 Noses break?! Since when?!
Another victory for America nearly drove the British out of New Jersey, but America was too worried to be very happy about gaining a little bit of feeling back in her spine. What if I lose?
"I can't believe we lost that fort!" America was fuming.
"Give it a break, it was only one fort." Johnny said. They were all tired and weary, and so his voice came out sounding rather mean. However, America had been living with the kid for a couple years now, and so she wasn't too offended.
"You're right, it was only one fort. We're Americans, we'll be fine. Americans always turn out fine."
"America doesn't have it's own great mindset like that. As Americans we are part of too young of a country to have any sort of identity." Johnny was rambling, but each word hit America like a tidal wave. Who even was she? She was just thirteen colonies, but was she? Who am I really? I'm not European, I might not even technically be American for much longer. What is this war going to make me? She hugged her arms to herself tightly.
"We're British, but we have Spaniards and Frenchman and people from so many different countries that we're more like a meeting place for people to learn about the world than an actual country, and-"
"What did you say?" He did NOT just call me a meeting place instead of a country.
"America is still a little group of separate colonies. We aren't a country, and I have to wonder if we ever will be. We aren't going to win. Maybe I should have followed my countrymen and been a loyalist. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about-"
….
General Washington rubbed his temples. "Why?"
"He was sitting there insulting me and claiming that he should have gone and been a Tory! What was I supposed to do! He said I wasn't a country and that I was a meeting place. It was like he had no respect for me whatsoever. Even if I didn't tell him who I am, he should still have had an instinct not to insult me like that." America crossed her arms defiantly.
"That's no excuse to punch him across the face. You broke his nose!"
"I also broke a nail while doing it, but honestly I'm not too fussed."
General Washington did not look happy.
America raised an eyebrow. She didn't have a boss, he couldn't touch her. He wasn't able to punish her through the military because of her status as Personification. She was untouchable physically and he couldn't do anything to her mentally either. Just a lot of stern glares.
"What if he has bandages on his nose the next battle and he can't see properly. Or maybe a British soldier will accidentally bump his nose and his eyes will tear up. They'll take advantage of that weakness."
America's eyes widened. Maybe he can get to me. I need to get better control of my temper.
/OOO\\\
"Johnny?" America called.
"Yeah?" Johnny waved to her, nose bandaged but with a grin on his face.
"I'm sorry about your nose."
"I was the one being a bastard. You've got nothing to be sorry for."
"Thanks, but I probably should've watched my temper better."
"I won't argue with that." Johnny gave a smirk, eyes lighting up. "My mum sent a care package, want a sweet?"
"I won't argue with that." America sat up in the cot with him, ripping off a bit of cake and closing her eyes to savor the flavor.
"Mind sharing your mom?" She asked.
Johnny laughed. "We're practically brothers anyway. Why not?"
America grinned. Johnny was a great brother-from-another-mother.
But he's human. He's not going to live forever.
\\\OOO/
France was a blond guy with blue eyes and a stupid-looking bit of chin-stubble. He met her own eyes enthusiastically and shook her hand politely.
"Hello young America." He said. There was a small gleam in his eyes that spoke volumes of his true purpose here. England.
Even when I'm fighting a war to be free of him, there's always something that has to remind me of him more. If these stupid reminders weren't here, then maybe I could pretend I was fighting for something else.
But if I was fighting for something else, then I wouldn't fight as hard. What I truly care about is freedom. I will be free, and I will be better than everyone else, just to prove that I can be.
America will be number one. Did I just think in third person? Or am I talking about my country in general? Hmm maybe I shoul...
….ooooOOOOoooo….
Yankee Doodle
The war wasn't going well for America. The British were definitely better prepared and stupid England's war experience was slowly crushing her. Thankfully France was finally in an official alliance with her, and she still had Spain, but she wasn't sure if she could win regardless. Her camps were disgusting and she had no idea how to properly run a war. America joined the men around the campfire and speared a potato on her bayonet. Johnny poked her in the face with a carrot stuck to the end of his own bayonet. She gave a small smile as she wiped the juice off her face.
"Johnny Jones,
He's a scoundrel,
poked me with a carrot!
I'm gonna steal his shoes one night,
And throw them in a pile of shit!" America sang to the tune of Yankee Doodle.
Johnny's mouth opened up and he stared at her. The other men laughed hard and America grinned, pleased with herself.
"You sing like a young girl." Johnny said, staring at her.
America tried her best to act puzzled. "As much as I adoooooore the compliment Master Jonathan," She drawled in a fake British accent, "I'm going to…"
Johnny gave her a nervous glance. America exchanged a mischevious look with Steven, who was behind Johnny.
"TICKLE YOU!" America and Steve attacked him and Johnny fell to the ground, convulsing with laughter.
And Johnny's remark was thankfully forgotten.
1778, Sound the American (Please NOT Pony)Cavalry
"Ponies! They'll shoot right over our heads!"
America looked interestedly at the nation in front of her. Johnny was stifling laughter on her right and she shot him a look that he missed as he was looking at Poland. Poland had just arrived to meet with Casimir Pulaski, one of his counts and America. The two wanted to establish a cavalry unit for the Continental Army.
"Let's go for it! We have plenty of horses!" America exclaimed.
"What about Ponies?" Poland asked.
I like him. America decided. He's funny and kinda cute. SHUT UP BRAIN!
I don't know if that would work," America replied in Polish. "If I can remember correctly, England is a bit shorter than me. No use putting myself right on his level."
Poland and Pulaski laughed.
"Horses." Poland agreed. "Let's go with horses."
Poland went off to set up his things and Johnny leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Since when do you know Polish?"
America just laughed. Since when do I know Polish?
Winter of 1778
Awesomeness arrives at the way-too-cold and really gross Valley Forge
"Baron Von Steuben has arrived. Prussia is with him, and he will be personally training you." George was acting very serious, but America only heard one word. Or name to be exact.
"Prussia! Where?" America bounced.
Washington just pointed.
America tackled him and Prussia caught himself before he could fall.
…. Prussia
Wow, she's even stronger.
"Hey, miss me?"
America elbowed him very lightly. "Yes," She muttered. "You're a much cooler big brother than England."
Not very hard to beat him, but I'll take what I can get.
Prussia lifted her up and spun her around fast. America shrieked with laughter.
"Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!"
Prussia just laughed and America was introduced to Von Steuben. She greeted him with her best manners and he looked her over carefully before going off with Washington.
What the hell is she wearing? America's once black but now more brown-gray breeches were torn at the knees and covered in spots of dried blood. Her shirt was torn at the sleeves and her shoulder was probably more covered in bandages than her chest.
"Don't you have any other clothes?" He asked.
America gave him an mildly amused look that didn't look right on a country as young as her. "Do I look like I have other clothes?"
There was a lot of work to be done here.
But I am the Awesome Prussia. Nothing can take me.
But he didn't take into account exactly how bad America was doing. The snow piled over everything and there were parts of the snow that stuck up strangely in the dilapidated camp. Everything was haphazard and unorganized. It comforted Prussia a small amount to see that America didn't like it any more than he did.
"What are those?" Prussia asked, pointing to the oddly shaped lumps in the snow.
America blushed a bright red and looked disgusted. "Bathrooms."
Holy friggin shit!
"I really need help Prussia. Really really. I can't keep living like this, and I'm going to loose, and I-"
"-Shhh." His brotherly instinct flared and Prussia hugged her closely. Even underneath the heavy smell of war, there was a faint scent of wildflowers, fresh mountain air and open plains. "I can't leave my little sister all alone now. Don't worry, we'll get you, all of you, cleaned up and shit free."
She looked like she debating internally whether she should slap him or not.
"Shit meaning England and his merry crew of lobsters."
America hugged him back, looking close to tears. "Thanks Prussia."
"Not a problem. But you're going to have to call me Gilbert here. It's my human name, Gilbert Beilschmidt."
"Mine is Alfred Kirkland."
"Kirkland?"
"Yes."
"We're going to have to change that."
"Not now."
Prussia frowned but didn't argue.
Early 1778 MISSter I'll Make a Man out of You
"Let's get down to business." Prussia started.
America nodded rapidly. Other men were looking at the two strangely, as it wasn't every day that a random soldier got pulled aside by the Prussian general's assistant.
"I'm not going to lie, you guys are some of the saddest bunch I've ever met, including you. But there's a touch of awesome, and you can bet before I'm through with you, I will bring that to the surface."
His eyes were glinting at the prospect of honing raw awesome into professional awesome. America just nodded in agreement. It seemed easier that way.
"Right, what should I know first?"
"You need to be calm on the surface and raging within."
"Check."
"You need to find your center."
America made a "WTF" face.
"Don't look at me like that. You need to know yourself in and out, or you'll never be a successful fighter."
"Check someday I hope."
"You can't be spineless, pale, or pathetic."
America wisely chose not to comment on the fact that he was friggin albino.
"Anti-check."
Prussia paused, confused. "Do you mean that you-"
"-I'm not any of those. Or at least i don't plan on it."
Prussia nodded approvingly. "And the last thing Alfred."
"What?"
"I'm going to make a man out of you."
America gulped slightly.
"Get down and give me ten push-ups for every one of your colonies."
America's eyes widened.
"You heard me."
America began, then felt a pressure on her back.
And she thought it would be hard before Prussia decided to sit on her back. Asshole.
When America finished, not even out of breath, Prussia furrowed his eyebrows in thought.
"Here's what I want you to do…"
….
When America stumbled to the campfire, dirty and welt-covered, Johnny and Steve looked up in alarm.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm going to die. Gilbert is going to kill me. I'll be dead before I see my next battle."
"He's working you fierce hard, isn't he?"
"Looks like it," Steve said when America didn't reply.
"Yeah. Get me some food, will you?" America groaned.
Battle of Monmouth, June, 1778 America
"Fuck, it's so hot."
America frowned. "It's not usually this hot this far north. It wouldn't be too unusual down south, but it is pretty hot for up north." Shut up Prussia.
Prussia groaned. "I don't like it."
"We're in the middle of a battle, will you two shut up?!"France smacked them both in the heads. "Stupidés."
"Hey, I resent that!" Prussia scowled at the soldiers in red, firing off a shot and downing one of many.
America took a shot and crouched low to the ground again to minimize her target.
"Hola!" Spain joined them in their position behind a tree.
"Hola," America greeted back.
"You boys need some water?" A voice called.
"Finally," Prussia muttered. He was hit with three hands. The woman with the water smiled a little amused smile, getting them some water. They gulped it down gratefully.
"Thank you Miss-?"
"Mary. Call me Mary."
"Thanks Mary," America called after the woman before taking careful aim.
….
A tie. At least she didn't loose. But she still didn't win either. And there'd been a lot of people lost.
"Hey Alfred," Johnny called.
America turned to see her best friend walking towards her all smiles and tattered clothes. "Hey Johnny. Sorry we haven't talked properly in a while. Gilbert's training me to the bone."
Johnny waved a hand. "I know. It's not a big deal. We'll always have each other''s backs, right?"
"Of course silly." America patted the spot next to her and he sat, leaning back to look at the stars above. She joined him, and somehow the stars seemed so much brighter and numerous, as if all the fallen soldiers had become entwined in the sky. She nodded up to it just in case and a particularly bright one winked down at her.
"Why are you being specially trained anyway?"
"Well, about that. There's something you should know about me."
"What?"
America turned to look at him; she needed to tell him about nations with eye contact, but Johnny was beginning to change. Slowly the blood in his face disappeared and his eyes went dead. Blood blossomed on his chest and his eyes closed as he thudded to the ground, leg at an odd angle.
"Johnny!" She screamed. "Dammit!"
And then she fell into the real memory.
….
"Thanks Mary," America called after the woman before taking careful aim.
"Hey!" Johnny rushed over the battlefield to slide, just in time, into the space they had made in the trees.
"So Johnny, how are you fairing?"
It was their talk on the field. It put things into better terms than "Who's dead now?"
"I'm fine, Steven's not."
"Fuck."
"Pretty much."
"Let's head there," America ordered to her group, pointing to another group of fallen trees.
"You go that way, I'll take these two over there," Prussia jerked his head in the opposite direction, towards a cannon where a man had fallen. Mary appeared out of nowhere and fired the cannon.
"We'll help her, you two go over there," Spain ordered.
"Si Antonio." America motioned to Johnny.
The two dashed and made it to the other trees. America turned to Johnny to make sure okay when she realized he wasn't.
Johnny had a look of utter shock on his face. He'd been shot in the chest. Blood. America couldn't comprehend. Johnny had to be fine. Why was his uniform turning the color of England's? **He's in my regiment, his uniform isn't supposed to be red, we wear blue shirts. America opened her mouth to tell him so.
"Johnny, we're in the same regiment. You're supposed to be in blue."
Johnny gave a wheezing laugh. "Alfred, look at me."
America met his eyes, pain-filled and brown.
Johnny met her eyes, pain-filled and blue.
"Win." He whispered. "You were a brother to me. I shared a sense of kinship with you that I've never had with anyone else."
"Dammit, stop speaking in the past tense Johnny!"
He smiled slightly. "Alfred, you were the best friend I ever had." He gave a horrible hacking cough, falling fully down on the floor, leg at an odd angle. "I love you and want you to win this war. I can hear the bells of liberty Alfred." His eyes were becoming darker, the spark that made them whole in undeniably Johnny beginning to leave.
"No, Johnny, don't you dare close your eyes. I love you, you're like my brother!" Tears pricked her eyes and her heart fell as a gun of grief shot her in the same spot as Johnny had been injured, just above the heart. She oh-so-gently touched Johnny where the bullet had pierced his chest and he didn't even flinch. He was nearly gone, she knew it in her heart. A canon went off in the distance but she didn't even flinch even as a new cut began to form on her shoulder.
"I'm not closing my eyes silly. Alfred, you were meant to win this war. You need to win." He used the last vestiges of his strength to clutch the front of her shirt. She grasped his hands with her own blood-tipped ones, feeling the life draining from her brother-in-all-but-blood's very fingers.
"I'll do my best Johnny."
"That's all I ask. I'm so tired Alfred, and it's so cold. Can I close my eyes now?"
He sounded so much younger than he is, like a little child tucked in bed away from nightmares. It broke America's heart, but she whispered, "You probably should Johnny. One day we'll meet again."
He chuckled."No we won't. Don't let me be forgotten Alfred Kirkland."
"Jones." She said. "Alfred Jones."
"Alfred F. Jones," Johnny corrected with a small, hitched laugh.
"F?"
"For Freedom." And then he closed his eyes and all she could do was stand and watch until his breathing relaxed and then suddenly, it was gone.
America hugged him one last time and placed a kiss on his cheek. Pulling out a small version of her flag she laid it down over his wound. She bowed her head for a moment then wiped her tears.
"Freedom." America stood. "I am Alfred Freedom Jones. I am going to destroy you."
And with a roar of rage, she burst out from behind the trees and took off down the field, leaving her innocence behind to die next to her best friend.
December 1778 France
"He has Savannah." Spain said. The four countries were meeting in a tent reserved for them.
"I. Noticed. That. A. While. Ago." America said through teeth gritted in pain. The British capture of Savannah Georgia had given him a large cut right across the small of his back. He would have trouble moving properly until they were out. Poor child.
"No need to be snippy." Prussia raised an eyebrow. I've been snippier over lesser things. I'm rather impressed at his fortitude.
"Shut the fuck up bastard." America scowled.
Spain's eyes lit up. Please not today Spain.
"I want him off my land now and I want to be free. Every single goddammed day I sit around on these stupid cots while we go around and around in circles! I want him out! I want him out. IwanthimoutIwanthimoutIwanth imoutIwanthimoutIwanthimoutI wanthimoutIwanthimoutIwanthi mout!"
"I've got him," France muttered. "I raised his brother, I know how to calm him down."
"Let go of me! I swear to fucking god Francis if you don't put me down right fucking now I'm going to cut off all of your fucking gorgeous hair and bake it into a cake which I will then serve to the fucking bison so help me god! And they'll shit out your hair and I'll slice of your vital regions and re-bake everything into one of England's fucking scones and feed it to the fucking moose way up fucking north! Put me the fuck down! Put me down!"
Soldiers stopped to stare at the spectacle that was France carrying a crying and broken America back to his tent but they went on with their lives after a vicious pair of angry blue eyes stared them down from above a profanity-screaming mouth. One soldier that stared a bit too long got a long and intensely descriptive cussing out on his mother's virtue. He turned a vivid shade of red and glared at the man next him, who had a small smile threatening the corners of his mouth.
"Shhh. Papa's got you." America struggled to get away from France, but he held him tight and, just as he had done with Canada, stroked his back and hair until he fell into sleep. Poor thing was covered in bandages, they went all around his chest and everything.
America woke up a little while later, surprising France when he threw his arms around his waist and held on tight. "I'm sorry," America muttered, and he sounded so perfectly heartbroken that France felt a little piece of his own break off.
"It's alright mon petit lapin." France assured, smoothing down his hair and kissing the top, just next to the cowlick.
And France gave America all the time he needed to cry himself out and took a look at him. Tears clung to the boy's lashes and his lower lip was chapped and raw from the salt that had dripped into it. His eyes were read rimmed and his forehead was blotchy.
"You needed that."
America hiccuped. "I think I did."
July, 1779 America
America hissed as the nurse cleaned up the two burns on the back of her neck.
"Sorry sweetie, it's nearly done."
"Aw shit." America resisted the urge to jump up and swipe away the woman's hand as a particularly burnt part was gently brushed. "Sorry ma'am."
"I've heard worst." The lady smiled down gently at her. "Especially those Scottish ones that we get. Well, you're all done little one."
"Thank's ma'am." America's heart sank. Johnny did like to swear.
"Not a problem."
Prussia was there as soon as she stepped out of the tent.
"How are Fairfield and Norwalk. They're in Connecticut, right?"
"Yes. And strangely enough they're still burnt to the ground since you asked me a few minutes ago."
Prussia looks at her expectantly.
"Sorry," America scratches the back of head, feeling very contrite. "I just want this war to be over and done with. I just want to be free now."
"I know. But we have to continue unleashing our awesome fighting skills on those un-awesome redcoats."
America smiled. "Let's go." Savannah, I really need you back. My back hurts with you occupied by the British.
Oh Savannah, I'm going to cry for you. We got totally crushed, we're really bummed and it's all because of you.
We lost. Badly. I'm sorry Johnny, I'm not sure I can win this for you. But I'll try my best. Despite what you say, I know that we Americans have an identity. One Day we will be known as the ones who win, the ones who never back down. One Day, we will be the bad and the good, a beautiful mix of cultures and we won't have to learn from our own mistakes because we can look to the ones who made them before us. One Day, I will be a strong country, full of pride and peace, where everyone is equal. One Day I will be big enough to make big mistakes, and learn from mistakes no one else has ever made before. And maybe, just maybe, One Day I'll be able to be a woman. But not yet. Not for a long time. But One day, I will be able to walk out my front door in a skirt with long pretty hair and not feel inferior. One day.
Winter 1779, How cold can I go? Apparently a lot fucking colder! Spain
"Wow America, it's really cold here!" Spain exclaimed, falling into a snow drift.
"No merde genius." France sniffed, his white military uniform blending in perfectly with the snowy background.
"Play nice," Prussia said, slapping them both on the head.
"How are you holding up?" Poland asked America where they were walking together.
"I'm good." America was pumped. I can do this! I will win!
"So, Hungary told me a very interesting story about you," Poland said casually.
"What?!"
"We're Biffles! You can't except us to actually keep secrets from each other!"
"What exactly did she tell you?"
Poland studied her. "How about a deal. When you decide to show your true gender, call me up and I'll bring help you pick out clothes."
"Thanks," America hugged him tightly.
And they trudged through the waist-high snow together after the other three, who were bickering about what the word "Bastard" meant.
America happily joined in.
The '80s 1780s XD
May, 1780
They were loosing. Stupid England was getting better while she was just getting more battered and beaten. We were crushed in South Carolina.
June, 1780
HA! Tories lost, we won, tories lost, we won, tories lost, we won! North Carolina, you are an awesome colony. I like you.
July, 1780
More Frenchies! They're handy little things, aren't they?
August 6, 1780
Yeah! We on a roll biatches!
August 16, 1780
Never mind. We just fucking lost again. South Carolina is officially an un-awesome colony. I still love you, but I'm highly disappointed. I should stop spending so much time around Prussia. Gates is sure a damn coward. We could have won! We had larger numbers! But noooooo. He just HAD to run off the battlefield. It was slaughter out there!
Benedict Arnold is a Bastard-ict Arsehole
What a jerk! That. That. I can't even find the right word to describe him! He was going to betray me! How dare he! At least we caught him. Thank god for that. We're already doing horribly anyway. No. You know what?! I am doing awesome! He has more experience and a better army and I'm holding my own. If we had the same amount of experience, I'd have already won! And maybe I'll get some beginner's luck!
October 7, 1780 AKA my new second-favoritest day of the year
That is now the definition of kick-ass. It only makes sense that the definition was first demonstrated on American soil.
"Woah."
America nodded agreement. "You can say that again."
"Woah."
"I didn't mean literally."
Prussia smirked. "I know."
"Did that really just happen?"
"Yes America. Yes it did. W just won that battle there in sixty-five minutes."
"Holy shit."
"Holy shit indeed. Now mind your language."
"You're one to talk."
January 17, 1781 Cow-shit covered guns. It's a new American delicacy. It tastes like victory. And cow shit. And guns.
We won again. I like this very much. The South is now nice again.
"I hate you." France commented to America. They were sitting around a campfire, just the four of them. Poland had long since gone home, and the nations were laughing and joking.
"Why?"
"Because my uniform is now covered in merde." France sniffed. "It's disgusting."
"You're covered in shit?" Spain's hair was coated with the stuff. A redcoat had stuffed his head into the mud. Spain had screamed like a small girl, and the soldier was long gone. America nearly shuddered at how callous she had become.
"It's the Bull Shit Trio!" America burst out laughing.
"Fuck off," Prussia muttered. "You're Amerishitca."
"Prusshitia, Shitain, I mean Shit-spain, and Franshit."
"I am not a shit-stain!" Spain shrieked.
The camp echoed with laughter for a long while after that.
1781 January-October
The rest of the year was filled with a great push forward. America knew in her heart that the fate of the entire war wouldn't be decided with battles. It would be decided between her and England.
October, 1781 Bittersweet Victories
The battle was fast and furious, and suddenly she saw him. England. He looked the same, if a little worn.
Did I cause that? Her heart fell a bit. Wait, who cares?
He spotted her, and his eyes went right over her, not even recognizing her. That's not too surprising. I've grown up quite a bit.
She went back to back with Prussia as the English soldiers pressed forward. England spotted Prussia, and he searched for her. His eyes fell on her for a second time and he was nearly shot while staring at her in shock. Yeah, she'd grown quite a bit taller and was now nearly as tall as Prussia, but America didn't realize how much her internal changes had changed her appearance. Her blue eyes betrayed only anger and hurt as she fought and a tear fought it's way out of her eye as she turned to impale someone on her bayonet.
...
Panicked hours of fighting, moving, and constant fear for her life culminated in this very moment for this battle.
England stood across from her, a few soldiers behind him, and America glanced back with her peripheral vision to see a few soldiers of her own.
There was blood rushing in her ears, and the words burst out before she could let him speak first.
"England! All I want is my freedom! I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother!" And America, in that moment, knew. 'You need to know yourself in and out, or you'll never be a successful fighter' Prussia had said. And America knew. She was America, and she was going to be free. "From now on, consider me Independent!"
England stared at her. There was heartbreak in both of their eyes. And suddenly he rushed towards her, hitting her gun with the tip of his bayonet. In an experienced flick of the wrist, her gun went flying.
"I won't allow it." England said, breathing heavily. America looked at him in surprise, slowly and carefully flicking the knife in her sleeve into her hand. "You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?!"
But I am following this through. I'm going to be independent. But she didn't say anything, just looked at him. He wouldn't hurt her. England wasn't going to hurt her beyond what he had already done.
"Ready, aim!" One of the soldiers behind her called. The bayonet was rather close to her face now, but America wasn't worried. She would be fine, and she would be independent.
And she was correct. England lowered the gun. America made sure not to change her expression.
"There's no way I can shoot you." England said in a tear-coated voice. "I can't."
I knew it.
England tossed down the gun and sank to his knees. "Why?! Dammit why?! It's not fair!"
It was never fair England. "You know why." And England did, she could see it in his face. America felt bad for a second. He truly didn't know how to interact otherwise. But her urge for freedom outweighed her pity.
England began to cry. America didn't like seeing him cry, but there wasn't a thing she could do. All she could do was stand and watch. But her mouth betrayed her and she asked the question she wanted to know the answer to. "What happened? I remember when you were great?"
England crumpled in further, and America could only stand. Stand and watch.
History Lesson time!
*America didn't consider itself at war until the British retaliated after the Declaration of Independence was sent to them. In case you didn't know. Well, the more you know *Thumbs up and obnoxiously bright grin*
**Not all Americans wore blue in the Revolutionary War. At the beginning, their color was brown. While this changed, each colony had a different uniform. Or at least most of them did. I have them in a Maryland regiment Continental (Excuse my bullshit sticking names together)uniform, which would be the familiar US army uniform of that period with a simple blue shirt and different colored breeches (basically pants, FYI). The reason the blue outfit with the white "X" is so well known as the official uniform is because it was associated with the Continental line infantry as well as the Whig party. Many Patriots were part of the Whig political party, and thus the blue uniform was known. And the official color of the French military at that time was white, not blue. Blue didn't come until after the French Revolution. Anyway, many members of the Continental Army wore blue, green, black, grey, brown, buff or red uniforms. So technically, some Patriots wore red coats.
And yes, I skipped over the Articles of Confederation. You would rather read about battles. I know you Hetalians :D
History Lesson done!
My head cannon is that America and Canada were raised by Native America before Europeans came into the picture. I also think that the Loyalist part of America is warring with the Patriot part of America, and the neutral side sometimes comes into play.
I'm truly sorry if some of this isn't historically accurate, but I did my best. The information is basically a mix of Wikipedia, timelines, and everything I've ever been taught about the Revolutionary War. And since history is written by the victors, teachers tend to gloss over some of the less glamorous stuff. Cough TarAndFeathering Cough.
Which I'm actually not going to mention in this story because America is in the army, and it was mainly the ordinary bat-shit-freedom-crazy colonists who were all like:
"Let us be merry, form a mob, and kill/really injure possible Loyalists by pouring hot tar on them and feathering them like chickens."
"Sound's great dude, may I suggest the governor first? Then we can get that Scottish shopkeeper who says he's on our side but clearly isn't because he's Scottish."
"Awesome! I'll go grab the barrel of tar I keep in my garden for this specific purpose!"
Like seriously Colonists? WTF? There are times when I'm glad I'm the first of my family on both sides to be born in America, and this is one of them. No tar in my past. Just potatoes. :D