Chapter VII~ The Truth Hurts.
Disclaimer~ I do not own Hetalia.
((A/N~ This chapter is written a lot like your History's textbook, if there is anything historically incorrect please feel free to inform me. Thank you~! Now sit back, relax, grab that bowl of popcorn and I hope you enjoy this chapter~! XD))
Never in my life, would I ever consider even talking to Britain, let alone sit next to him in HIS car. Mostly because he scared the crap out of me. But in reality I never should've been afraid anyways. Because in reality we share countless things in common. In my opinion, if he didn't suck so much at cooking, he'd be a decent kind of guy. Back to my theory, where we both share the same mind.
1. We both share the same dislike for overly cheerful people.
2. We both share the same dislike for people in general.
3. We are both the same age.
4. We are both short by our lover's standards.
5. And we both agree that half of Europe are idiots.
That aside, I fucking hate the taste of his tea and his cooking. It's criminal. Now, I know what you're all thinking... "But Romano why would you ever eat his food in the first place?!" And I agree it was the worst decision OF MY LIFE. Well, one time Feliciano and I dared each other to eat it to prove who was more of a man. He ate one fucking bite of Britain's pasta and flat out fainted out cold on the floor. I ate it, and end up barfing and sick. So, I think I won that contest. But don't ask me again, because that pasta was disgusting! It was then I believed that Britain was some sort of demon from hell. Yea, only demons can make pasta taste that bad.
Other than that, Feliciano and I were so fucking scared by him, we'd shit our pants whenever we heard that the British are coming. I guess it was because he held a legacy, and ruthless one. This was the country that bullied France to bankruptcy... (whiiich I have no problem with, but Spain does.) This was the country that had colonies everywhere on every continent... (almost everywhere.) This was the country that discovered America... (who later then turned on him.)
Well, because he practically had fuckface on his knees once crying for mercy, you could say I had grown a deep admiration and maybe even a little respect for him. Let me tell you, it's almost impossible to gain my respect. Yet, I would never ever, not in a million years even want to be his henchman. One reason, it'll be weird calling Britain, "boss." Two, because just look at America! He had declare war against Britain for his freedom and even then it stirred up some bad blood between them for over 100 years! Damn, I'm not even that cruel, to start a war for independence. If I did that with Spain, I'd lose due to my intolerance to his constant whining and crying. I wonder who it was harder for. No wonder Britain's such a grouch all the time!
Anyways back to the essential purpose of this whole fiasco hmm? Right now I'm in a particularly happy mood since I'm about to get what I want. Probably more happier than children on Christmas day getting gifts. Hell, this was fucking better than gifts, it was the motherfucking truth! Britain, however, silenced himself for a bit muttering to himself how he could begin to start. I, being the younger naive half-nation, took that as a good sign.
"Romano, the reason you don't remember much is because you were just a child back then, right? No less than six years old. I can start off by asking you how much you do know." He said, or finished. Was he expected me to answer that? How much I know? "Well?!" Britain asked impatiently and grumpy as usual, taking occasional glances at me, while attempting to drive soundlessly peaceful.
"Well if knew anything, I wouldn't be fucking here right now. Would I?" I counter-acted. I would much rather be in Rome by now, in my house, on my sofa, drinking my wine, watching my soap oper- I mean reality tv shows... in Spanish. Britain scoffed at my language and let out a dark chuckle.
"Nothing? Really? Nothing at all. What? Did that wanker lock you up inside a box for all of your younger years?" Britain asked, in sarcasm from his tone. I wasn't even phased when he called Spain a "wanker". When in reality, I was sorta blocked out from the world for a thousand years. Now that I think about it, I was never allowed to step outside the medieval manor, much less talk to anyone of the other countries.
...
Not that I didn't try, but the doors and windows were all locked. Hell, I didn't even know Asia existed! I've always lived inside that mansion, inside the gates, and occasionally the enormous tomato garden Spain owned which led me to satisfactory. I had only ever known Antonio, Femke, and Dan (before he left) and occasional some other henchman's who came and when I DID finally have a chance to get out using the "I'm-visiting-my-brother" excuse, I got captured by a Turkey. Only to find out that motherfucker Espana's been stalking me the entire time. How creepy... which got me more suspicious than usual about the entire thing. So as you can tell, I was gawking at Britain like he was a god.
"Just start at the beginning." I waved him off. He looked at me questionably and then continued, "Very well then." And thus he began.
~.Oo0oO.~ The Age of Discovery
"As you can probably tell the early 15th century was a very significant date in which embarks the Age of Explorations. A powerful turning point in history that would last for 2 more centuries." He started off, as if he were reading straight from a High Schooler's Global History Textbook. Aha, okay I knew this part.
"When Spaain discovered America." I pointed out smirking, just to irritate him a little. I will admit I felt a smart ass now, but it was a good feeling. Heh.
"Discovered the New World." He corrected the term harshly, "America was not founded yet."
Mission Accomplished. At least I agitated him a bit.
"Well at least you know that much." He sighed. "As I was saying, at the time the Ottoman Empire (Modern day Turkey) was like the super power in Europe, Africa, and Asia, controlled all the trade routes, and the Mediterranean sea trade plus taxes." He explained. "Do you know what that means?" He looked at me and I shrugged. "It means we needed goods from Asia but it cost us quite heavily, which is why this discovery was so revolutionary, it gave us hope."
At the word hope, he chuckled a little as if it were an inside joke. I stayed quiet and listened attentively not letting go off one single word.
"But," he began. "It was a race against time. You had to have godspeed to become successful. It all started when Portugal (Spain's brother) was keen on searching for a new trade route in West Africa without going through the Sahara Desert. His explorations influenced other nations to follow in his footsteps. So, when the discovery of the New World was known, all nations in Europe wanted to get rich and make investments in colonies in my eyes the only two nations who came close to conquering all was me, of course, and him."
He clenched his teeth, squinting on the road trying to pay attention to driving and less on the rage and grudge he still held. I knew him referred to Spain. But why did Britain hate him so damn much? They were equally important and alike in dignity. The only conclusion I could come up with was that he was potentially... jealous of Spain. Although if I asked the fucker right now, I just he'll deny it immediately. So, what's the point?
"I colonized near the northeast end of the New World, and he conquered the south, western parts. Do you what they call those who conquer land for themselves in Spanish?" He said the language as if it were an ungodly name.
"Conquistadors. Wait, what the fuck?" I answered, confused. I was almost certain the only Spanish I knew was how to say "kiss me". And like hell that was useful! Only when Femke comes over, but if anything it's a burden because Spain still tries to get me to say it to him. "A-Antonio... Bésame Mucho!" Was probably just what he was expecting. AND LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU THAT I WONT SAY IT FOR AT LEAST ANOTHER FUCKING CENTURY! Just to be clear.
"Yes, Spain was one of those men." He grunted. Emphasizing the word, "those". "They were ruthless when it came to power you should know. Not that it was only him, it was everyone who colonized in the New World. Its a haunted, dark time in history no one dares speak of. Perhaps that is why you are so clueless. In my perspective, we were all demons during those days."
"Wait a minute!" I paused, suddenly becoming defensive. "What do you mean? What did he do that was so bad?"
"He..." Britain looked at me with a painful expression clearly written on his face. "Destroyed ancient civilizations completely and in the most gruesome way." In detail, Britain explained it to me. It took all my willpower not to jump out the car in horror.
~.Oo0oO.~ King Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon
"In the year 1400, due to differences and opinions in religious matters. My beautiful queen Elizabeth declared herself and accepted England's Protestantism. However, Spain felt betrayed and declared war against me for a number of reasons."
"What reasons?" I asked in pure curiosity. Spain feeling betrayed was a shocker to me, not once did I think that either one of us would betray each other so much as to declare fucking war.
"Well, to be honest, once, we were rather friendly and open and we uh... got married." He said it so distastefully like it was acid on his lips. "But that did not last long! It was our bosses decision, not ours!" He quickly corrected, with a red tint growing furiously on his cheek. "We agreed to wed royalty from our countries to symbolize our union as a strong one. And the pitiful humans ruined it all. I reckon you are aware of King Henry VIII?" He asked.
"Isn't he the fat, greedy king who couldn't keep it in his fucking pants?' I asked, vaguely. "Didn't he divorce all his wives for an heir?" I didn't notice how mad Britain was until he corrected me.
"I'll have you know, in his younger years, he was rather fit and muscular. Beside back then having a large stomach was not at all looked down upon, rather than blessed because it meant you ate well and was wealthy. It's different in this day and age."
"Really? Why don't you go and tell America that?" I remarked.
Britain snorted in response.
"As I was saying, back to your last statement about his... wife issues. King Henry's first wife, Catherine of Aragon was the daughter of Spanish Royalty and she was a fine, virtuous woman. I cannot insult her in anyway, she served her duty as queen well. She was to be wedded to Henry's older brother Arthur, but sooner than later he feel gravely ill and passed away leaving Henry to the throne and new fiance. Henry was rather... an immature fellow who wanted it all. Money, Woman, Power, Sex, Status, and Glory. Unfortunately, there was one thing he could not attain due to the enchantress Fate."
I yawned in response. When did this turn into a fucking English History Lesson?! What does this have to do with Spain anyways?
'A son. An heir to his throne. He was afraid it would be the end of his family name, Tudor. Yes, he had two daughters. One by Catherine named Mary. You most likely know her by this name: Bloody Mary. But she comes in later. As Catherine aged, it was soon realized she could not bore a healthy, strong son."
"Oh I know this part! Then, a sexy woman came along and seduced him right?"
"Y-yes." I could've sworn I saw his eye twitch. "That "sexy" witch was none other than Anne Boleyn. And she had stolen Henry's heart. He let a seductive treacherous snake into his mind and messed with it. When he demanded her to come to bed with him, she blatantly said no. And that drove Henry mad. I believe that was when it all went downhill. She proposed that perhaps if he divorced his current wife, and wedded her instead. Henry would have an heir and his desires fulfilled."
Britain scratched his head a little.
"Fate decided to crash down on the royal family once again. When the Pope declined to annul Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon's marriage, Henry took it into his own hands and declared England Protestant, cutting his ties to Rome. Henry, in return, got excommunicated by the Church. Finally, divorcing Catherine of Aragon, Spain had gotten resentful of me. It was around that time, our hatred for each other grew. What annoyed me the most around that time, was that Spain kept a positive attitude, although with a dark sense of humor. Mentioning in due time, my people would pay for their insolence. In the hopes that I would be punished." He bit his lip.
"The whole dilemma seems ridiculous now, since Henry ended up giving Anne the death sentence on the guillotine and beheaded her at the Tower of London."
"Why did he do that?"
"Because although he moved mountain's to marry her, she did not produce any male offspring. And was found guilty and arrested on the charges of adultery. Moving on to his next four wives who his would soon divorce afterwards and no results. It was all in vain. Anne, did however, bore him a daughter, beautiful daughter named Elizabeth I." Britain smiled a little at the mention of her name, as if Elizabeth brought light unto him in those dark days.
"That's fucking messed up." I replied, bringing an immediate frown in return.
"Uh... yes I suppose it was." He coughed a little. "Finally after King Henry's reign of terror ended with no sons as heir, Mary (Catherine of Aragon's daughter) took the throne. And in vengeance of her late mothers she had all those who defied her hung, murdered, killed, or burnt. That is why she was known as "Bloody Mary." After she died, her sister Elizabeth I took the throne into what I call the English Renaissance. She was Protestant, and that was before Spain set his bloody Armada out to get me and overthrow our queen." He growled.
"Didn't you win that? Why are you mad?"
"Romano. Romano..." He said exhausted. "Win or lose, I lost as many people as Spain did that year. Maybe not as much, but the pain lingers. During my golden age as well, I might add. Which is why... I did the unspeakable to Spain. I captured his ass and his crew and locked them in a dungeon for a while you might remember that."
I stared at him. For a long time without speaking, my eyes widened in horror. Nostalgia hit me like a wave back to my cloudy younger memories when Spain left for months captured, and came back... broken, like an empty shell of what used to be a man. It shattered my heart even now, and I refused to believe that the loving, caring Spaniard I once knew didn't love nor care no more. I didn't wanna believe his spirit was gone. And never would I have thought England to be the fucking reason my childhood sucked. Well it sucked for more than that reason, but that memory was traumatic for me as well. I anxiously awaited his new few words in dying anticipation.
England kept silent.
"W-what did you do?" I asked.
"I..." England obviously, didn't look like he wanted to fucking tell me the truth. It seemed to painful that he shut his eyes and winced.
"You what?" Come on! I felt sickened suddenly, but had to know. Afraid to know.
"I was at my limit with all his remarks, he- he kept hollering insults at my queen, and laughed at how much damage his Armada had done to me. And I tortured him for quite some time. I did my best to make him regret setting foot on English territory. Back then we all suffered by each other's hand."
"H-how?"
...
~.Oo0oO.~
"Don't get me started over the Spanish Inquisition. And lastly I should mention Netherlands."
"What now? That asshole!" I said in disbelief in a shaky breath. Trying to let all that had been told sink its meaning in. Goddammit, if I wanted to know all this, and it all came out of Spain's mouth. I'd think I'd...
"Yes. He was Spain's henchman before you. Though now I think he should explain the whole dilemma than me..."
"No. You got this fucking far, now finish." I demanded.
"Very well. Netherlands, was one of Spain's older henchman. Do you remember as a teenager?"
"All he did was work. And when I asked him to play with me, he said no." I immediately remembered.
"Yes, well there came a time when his people were changing their beliefs in tradition and Spain didn't like that at all. Netherlands became rebellious under my influence."
He didn't even have to finish that part of the fucking story. I knew the truth now, so I would guess war would be the answer. But Britain spoke through the actions of him. So, I decided to ask more about Spain than what he did. Part of me really hopes this guy was just delusional or drunk for half of his life. I felt the nerve to defend him.
"I don't remember him like that."
"Excuse me?"
"I don't remember Spain being that hostile... all I remember when I was young was that we'd pick tomatoes out from the garden and when he'd get a message that he had to go to war, I- I didn't want him to. I hated whenever he had to go."
"Perhaps he was under the influence of his boss. But I assure he wasn't as kind as he was now. That wanker looks like a fool now, compared to back then."
Fuck. Why do I feel like crying? I expected this. I did, right? Hold it in. I just have to hold it in.
Deep down I know its all true, but I keep trying to convince myself that the Brit is lying.
"Why did you make America leave?" I asked hoarsely. Another subject, I need to change the fucking subject. Why didn't Spain just fucking tell me?! Britain sighed deeply.
"Because the twit would ask more questions about me and why I did certain and why I didn't. And... I can't have Alfred hate me. I-I'd rather die, than have him despise me.." He confessed without notice. That's why Spain didn't tell him.
"Give me a minute to think things over." I asked, and left with an astounding dramatic silence for several minutes.
I had to remind myself that he's changed. What if... I become more aware of him in a questionable light. Then what? Ugh, I should just ask him directly. Honesty's the best policy.
"Romano, your almost home. Is there anything else you want to ask before I leave? I'd prefer it if you'd not bother me later about this in front of Alfred."
"No, that's all. Grazie." I said in what must've sounded monotone.
"Don't tell Alfred about any of this. I hope your a man by your word."
"I wont, dammit! Now, go pick up your boyfriend who you ditched at a fucking hotel!" I bit my lip, where is all this anger coming from? We finally arrived to my destination, and I got out of the car with a resounding slam of the door. Before I could be blessed with the absence of Britain's presence,
"You wanker! Don't get so angry, it wouldn't be so wise to take your temper out on my car!"
"Shut up and leave, dammit!" I said, reverted to a more vulgar speech.
At least, he finally left me alone. Stuck in a car with that Brit was unnerving. Must be worse, stuck in a kitchen with him. I proceeded to the door of my mansion where Feliciano would -undoubtedly- greet me. Before I could ring the doorbell, the door swang open and revealed a tall, tan, hot mess who I would never thought look so fucking mad. Just wait till I'm bombarded with a million questions.
((A/N~ Only one more flashback chapter to go and that's the break-up one. *sobs* I hope you guys learnt some history. I'm no history expert at all, this is all I learned from my teacher that I remember. Constructional Criticism & Suggestions is always welcomed. ~Ana))