Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

When he awoke, he didn't know who he was. Or where he was, for that matter. He just opened his sky-blue eyes and found himself standing in the midst of a lush, green forest. No one was around him, and he was quite alone. Being alone, he quickly decided, was the worst, and it gave him an awful feeling. But, even if he did find someone, would he be able to speak with them? He called out into the wilderness around him, and was pleased to note that his voice worked perfectly fine. Finally managing to feel a bit better, he called out again, his loud, strong voice stretching throughout the otherwise empty forest.

Well, at least he had a voice. If nothing else, he had a voice. It wasn't much comfort, but it gave him the strength and courage to move on. The branches and sticks that littered the ground crushed under his boots, and he experienced a rush of childish glee, now deliberately stepping amongst the more crowded areas of the forest floor.

So sudden, though, did he have a thought; I remember this. I remember having joy similar to this. But, when? When did he experience happiness and laughter? It seemed new, but a sense of familiarity still remained, prompting him to think harder.

And, then, he did receive the memory he was trying to find. A little child- golden-blond hair and blue eyes- was jumping in water puddles, soaking his trousers and bringing a simple joy to his face. That's...me. The young man thought, closing his eyes and reliving the forgotten memory. No, wait...that's who I used to be. He didn't even know what he was supposed to mean by that though. All he knew was that he used to be someone else.

Then, who was he now?

He started walking again, his face screwed up in conversation, searching desperately through the small storage of memories he knew he must possess. He saw quick flashes of some, but still, nothing came. Until, that is, he walked out of the forest and into an open field. I remember this place, he thought. And, indeed he did. A young child, the same child, only slightly older, running across the field, the same field, giggling and squealing. Behind the child was a man, also laughing. However, before he was able to focus on the man's face, the memory disappeared.

Unable to bring more of this scene up, the young man sighed and began trekking on through the field, coming across beautiful sights every now and then, and being able to recall exactly how he used to play in these beautiful sights.

One was particularly strong. The child was sitting on the ground, surrounded by flowers, a man laying down next to him. The man looked to be the same as the other one, the one chasing said boy. "England?" the boy asked, picking a few flowers. "When will I become big and strong like you?"

The man- England, was it?- smiled, his eyes closed and his face toward the sky. "Soon, America. Very soon."

Is...is my name America? No, I would remember it if it were America. Then, what? Well, at least he knew the man- England. A nation across the sea, a little island. Yes, that seemed right. Lost in the American Revolution.

Well, then, he had to be America. He looked like the child England called America, and he had all of America's memories. If so, then why didn't he exactly feel like America?

Suddenly, it all came flowing back into him. A separation, a secession. South Carolina first, then others. Mississippi, Florida, Alabama, Georgia, Louisiana, and Texas. They weren't part of the United States anymore, were they?

But, they were part of him.

They were part of the Confederacy.

I predict that I might offend someone by writing about the Confederacy. Sorry if I do- I just noticed that there aren't too many Civil War stories that focus on the Confederate side of America.

Anyway, awful prologue, I know. I just had to have a starting point, though. Oh, and no historical notes today! I figured, since I'm just starting it, I'll explain more stuff later. Please review, even if it is just hate mail.