#-Alfred deciding he's fucking off to start a revolution

[hetaliafucker]

The 2022 Ebenezer Scrooge just gives me Arthur but as a Gilf vibes and I'm just. I need. I need AU fanart of Arthur as the 2022 Scrooge.

[ameliafuckinjones]

The thought of Amelia/Alfred declaring independence and then being immediately thrust into parenthood appeals to me. Imagine if you will shortly after the Revolution the emergence of State Personifications coming about with each admission to the Union (Delaware was the first one). Whether they appear miraculously or are birthed via (unwilling) parthenogenesis (which I prefer) the bottom line is that suddenly America has all these kids to take care of, all of who grow up just as fast as America did. Regardless of how they came to be or how fast they grow, America loves them with his/her whole being and creates a system in which they are always protected and accounted for by the larger government. America promises to be there for them the way England never was.

Then fast forward to the Civil War, and America is waging a bloody war against half of her/his children that see hundreds of thousands of their people dead. Brother against brother, father against son, cousin against cousin. And each secession feels like a small death because they are part of America just as much as America is a part of them, practically inseparable, or at least America thought so. To add even more complexity, not all of America's children were white or white-passing. America being neglected because s/he was to far away or denied certain rights for not being British enough was bad on its own, but imagine your parent not being able to claim you or fully protect you or give you basic human rights without public/social/political backlash because your skin is darker and you're legal property in half the country. Or imagine having powerful politicians who want to keep people who look like your children in bondage and you have to compromise with them to keep the Union whole, knowing the opinions they would have if they even knew you had children who were black (some of them do know and make sure their opinions are known). Or your other children starting a war to selfishly keep this system in place at the expense of their black siblings. The relationship between America and his/her children, with America acting as both the federal government that protects the states as well as the greater whole that represents the Union and the states as the children, each an extension of America, an integral part of America's being, pushing back against the sometimes overbearing hovering of their parent, impeding on states rights (whether they believe America is in the right or not) and protecting others and sometimes America will helplessly throw his/her hands in the air and say "fine, ill let YOU decide on this issue because I am not a dictator, despite what some of you like to think, but if you fuck up im stepping in" because America doesn't want to make the same mistakes England made in the past but then America has to deal with the negative consequences of her/his children's actions when they do something unbelievably stupid while trying not to seem like a fire-breathing tyrant. Which, they end up thinking anyway, regardless if America wasn't entirely in the wrong about butting in and taking hold of the situation before it escalated. The negative reaction only serves to make America step away AGAIN so as to not seem completely authoritarian in their eyes. It's a never-ending cycle. Not to mention the complex relationships the states have with each other, especially the southern states among themselves and the southern vs northern states rivalry.

Edit:

also whenever America takes his/her eyes off the states for 1mili second to see what the rest of the world is up to (hopefully not another world war) while usually being like 'back off, geeze! 🤬' America's children immediately switch to 'how come you're not paying attention to ME instead 🥺 you always focus on the world instead of ME 😢'

[internalsealpanic]

Dick Grayson x Mercenary Reader HCs Part 1

a/n: This is basically a Dick Grayson/ Reader thingy that has been stuck in my head for months but I haven’t plotted out an actual fic for. Basically, I have the relationship mapped out in my head but I have no scenarios. I was hoping someone could suggest a plot I can play with. This part is mostly platonic with hints of a future relationship. This is pretty much in a weird version of canon running around in my head. 

masterlist

You’re Deathstroke’s apprentice. (This version is the version from the Knights and Dragons movie so he isn't a complete and utter asshole. Look, I just really like that version.) Let's just say you had more moxie than self preservation. It also helps that you’re a meta with a pretty unique power. Anything drawn on your skin turns into a physical object. (You basically have a bunch of permanent markers on you in addition to your usual equipment.)

Dick doesn't like you because of your profession but has a grudging respect for your skill. You think Dick is annoying for getting in the way but you understand that he's just trying to do his best to help the city in his own useless way.

YOU LORDING YOUR HEIGHT OVER DICK WHEN YOU'RE KIDS AND YOU QUIETLY CURSING WHEN YOU STOP GROWING.

You and Dick never set out to be friends. You honestly had no clue when this even started. Maybe it was because you keep accidentally saving each other or maybe because you two have a lot to bond over such as murdered parents and emotionally inept mentors. 

When it actually started: You, in full  costume, recognize your least favourite bird and see that he's crying and that he not only has an ugly bruise in his face but also a bunch of other injuries. you simply sit with him and throw your arms around him letting your muscles relax as if to tell him ‘it's ok and that you’ve got him’. You let him cry into your shoulder. You understand that you have a little more in common than he's willing to admit. You use one of your motion tattoo wings as a cover from the rain and the other to keep Dick warm. When Dick finally calms down enough to think, he's jarred by how nice you are acting. your general demeanor loosened at this point you let your offense show and the very petulant look on your face draws a tired laugh out of Dick. your angry look melts to give way to something resembling relief. You stay there for a while not speaking before Dick decides he needs to leave. Without a fuss you let him go.

After that, instead of fighting each other during encounters, you two kind of just sit together and start talking about what happened since your last encounter. Or you two play rock, paper, scissors to see who ‘won’. 

Dick realizes that your personality is hilariously incompatible with your chosen profession. You rant about how Slade lectures you about learning how to lie better and when they tested how bad you were at it Dick was sure Alfred would politely word it as wooden. you had good control over your body language but you had a look caught between pain and annoyance etched on your face. 

Mini scenario: 

Dick is really stressed out with school and vigilanteing and with Bruce that he just starts wandering around Gotham. 

It was a bad idea. Wandering around Gotham is generally a bad idea especially if your head isn't on straight but there is something relaxing about just wandering around. 

Dick ends up at one of Gotham's old movie theatres. One of those businesses that you're pretty sure is a front for something because you can't wrap your head around how they could possibly still be in business. 

Then there you were a foot from the ticketing windows. His mind instantly recognizes you. You, in turn, recognize him instantly. 

When neither of you launch into an attack, you decide to watch a movie together. After bickering for 15 minutes about what movie you should watch, you decide on a coin toss. Because you won, Dick was subjected to your love of terrible movies. 

You go out for burgers afterwards and joke about the movie. You complain about the bad acting and the ridiculous story line. You even come up with how they should have done it.

Your lunch was spent outside in the parking lot of the burger joint. 

You walk around some more after you explain that you haven't been to this part of Gotham and Dick gives you a mini tour. 

You talk about a mix of mundane teenager things and some complaints about their occupations.

You check your watch and explain that you need to go to the grocery store for ingredients. 

Dick goes with you just because. He won't admit that he's having a lot of fun.

Being teenagers they fuck around. Being exceptionally athletic and intelligent teenagers you fuck around entertainingly. 

At first, you play 'the price is right' because Dick wants to prove he isn't a spoiled rich kid. He doesn't prove jack. You don't do much better but it's on the opposite end. 

You get bored and frustrated so you start a scavenger hunt much to the terror of the other customers. How would you feel about 2 terrors zooming around screaming about butter and backflipping over you?

Dick is busy gloating about his victory when the store gets robbed. Dick can't do anything because right now he is a rich boy extraordinaire and should not be capable of fighting. you on the other hand is sore from losing and just yeets a can into one of the robbers faces. 

Everyone's attention pans to your as you ready to lob another can at them. The robbers run leaving their unconscious friend on the floor bleeding. 

You still pay for the can but ask Dick to get another one. 

 Walking down the street, Dick notices how many take out places are on the way and asks why you don't just eat from there. you simply tell him you like home cooking more. He notes that for next time. 

You exchange phone numbers so you can plan a next time. 

The next time they hang out you both bring homemade snacks to sneak into the theater.

They start hanging out in civvies and do really mundane civilian stuff you want to try and that Dick doesn't get to do enough. 

You become a sort of hub of normality for Dick. He can talk to you about all the weird stuff without worrying about your not getting it or your judging him while also doing the most mind numbingly human things. 

What do they usually talk about:

Casual nerdy stuff

Weird history shit you reads about

Vigilante stuff

Funny henchman stories from the perspective of a vigilante and a higher level henchman

Sometimes they talk about trauma but they only vaguely mention it

They debate over dumb things like whether there's too much variety in cereal. Guess who's on which side. 

Sometimes they discuss fighting techniques. 

Dick teaches you Romani and about the Romani culture

You sometimes explains various myths and superstitions from your own culture

Dick sometimes talks about school and galas and you end up making fun of weird rich people. They also end up making fun of the various rich people who hire you.

You'll talk about almost everything with each other

You bring him to one of your safe houses for a home cooked meal after he tells you how he lives off of cereal. You were horrified. 

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred get really suspicious about Dick's new civilian friend. 

Slade gets suspicious of you frequently visiting certain cities. 

Somehow they figure out that you are the wraith. 

They all lecture Dick about it. 

Slade just finds the whole thing amusing and debates on whether he can actually convince you to give up some of Grayson's secrets. 

I just love the image of them casually hanging out in civvies with Batman questioning Dick's life decisions and what your has been influenced by his relationship with Catwoman while Deathstroke and Wintergreen are just quietly amused by the situation at some point they were worried about you discussing merc stuff but neither talk about current business unless it's safe to. 

Wintergreen isn't particularly worried since Grayson is a good kid. Wintergreen once joked that you should convince him to join their side. You said that Dick didn't have the right personality to be a merc. The irony of this was completely lost on your. 

You spending a ton of your hard earned mercenary money to win a stuffed toy that you think little Rose would want. Dick making fun of you for not getting it then he ends up spending too much money but he eventually gets it. You and Dick pass by a shop and you see the exact same stuffed toy in the shop window for a sixteenth of the fortune you spent at the arcade. Good news though, Rose still has the stuffed toy. 

 Both of you being petty at dance dance revolution. 

When you rant to each other in less than private areas, you rapidly switch languages.

Unbeknownst to Slade, Dick actually knows a bunch of his safe houses and unbeknownst to Dick, those are Deathstroke's safe houses.  You are technically not lying when you say it's yours. 

You have a silent pact not to blow each other's covers unless they deem it completely necessary (when people's lives are at stake). The only person who knows this pact is Jason and they have bought his silence. 

You will both go out of their way to help each other out of a bind. 

Sometimes when Bruce and Alfred are out of town and the stars align to have you visiting for a job, you end up helping Dick babysit. Jason gets confused and defensive at first. You have dealt with distrustful youngins. Neither Rose nor Joey wanted anything to do with you at first. You, however, grew up wanting siblings so you tried your darndest to look after them and it is really fucking hard to not let this munchkin grown on you. 

When you're old enough to hit the club they often go drinking together. You once tried to have you wingman for Dick. Using the ‘fantastic’ negotiating skills you got from mercenary work, you ended up getting the number for yourself. You once told Rose and Joey about it and both of them made lighthearted jokes about it. 

Dick gets confronted by Slade at sword point and asks what his intentions are with his kid (He honestly isn't at all serious but he likes how scared Dick got because the man is terrifying.)

Dick also gets interrogated by Joey and Rose because, you know, this is their big sister. 

You often insist on family dinners at least once every 2 weeks with your siblings, sometimes with their mom (Adeline is kind of not ok with you and Rose being present but is trying her best for Joey's sake), sometimes with their dad, occasionally with their uncle Wintergreen. 

You usually just casually call Slade 'pops'  and you drawls 'dad' when you’re pissed and 'papa' when you’re emotional. You try your damndest to only call him Slade or Deathstroke on the field but sometimes you slip up and calls him pops in the field

You have batnapped each batkid at least once. Batnapping meaning seeing a baby bat and throwing them over your shoulder when you’re pretty sure they’re going to get killed. This isn’t limited to kids. You still do this when they’re adults. The image of you throwing Dick over your shoulder when you two were tiny gives me life but you throwing Dick and/or Jason over your shoulder when they’re huge has me cackling.  

You basically accidentally become a de facto big sister/ mom friend to the batkids purely through your friendship with Dick.

Images from this scenario I can’t get out of my head:

Stargazing

Teaching Dick how to cook. He just ends up going to your place for a meal though. 

Running around during a rain storm huddled under a jacket with Dick because neither of you checked the weather

Casual affection you two share because you’re both tactile people. Casual affection as in just sitting on the couch in each other’s space, bumping shoulders to communicate, leaning on each other, hugging each other when greeting each other, and all that good stuff. 

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Thanks for reading! I’m really sorry for the grammar and disorganization. 

If you guys are interested in the more bickering dialogue heavy part 2 either comment here or send an ask or pm me. *shrugs* This is just really self indulgent on my part. 

taglist: 

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes (I will stop tagging you when you run out of good ideas for me.)

[inkstaineddove]

The Difference Between Nations

Pairing: USUK, GerAme. Background Spamano, Franada, PruHun

Characters: America, Germany, Britain. Brief appearances by Romano, Spain, Canada, France, Prussia, and Hungary

Summary: America's been noticing Germany's rise back to the forefront of Europe and the power it holds over the continent. He decides to try and relate to a nation who he sees as very similar to himself.

Alfred sighed, staring at his reflection in the mirror. "Do we really have to go to this? It sounds so lame, dude." He adjusted his bowtie and attempted to flatten down his cowlick. He rolled his eyes, frustrated at its persistence to defy gravity. "A ball sounds really old and stuffy and like something that should've been left in the eighteen hundreds." Arthur stood at the sink, putting on some cologne. "We don't have to, but I'd prefer we're not the only two nations that skipped. People are talking about us enough between Trump and Brexit. We don't need any more bad press." He straightened up and put on his diamond cuff links. "It's a good opportunity to warm up to all the European countries again so I get a better deal once the divorce is finalized." He winked at the American. "If it helps, you look dead sexy in a suit. Almost makes me want to blow the party early to start one of our own." America smiled and wrapped his arms around the Briton's hips, pulling him closer to him. "You think flattery's gonna work on me? Because it totally will, please keep going." Alfred kissed the nape of the other man's neck, moving up towards his lips. "Why not have a pre-party before?" 

Britain pushed him off and started moving for the door. "As enticing as that idea may be, we have to go. If we show up too late, the frog will be all over us and insinuating a lot of things that he doesn't need to know about."

"He's gonna insinuate anyway!" Alfred grumbled, but followed his lover despite his objections. He kept complaining the whole drive from London to Vienna. Alfred rolled his eyes when Roderich's house was in sight. "Ya'know what's bullshit? Homeboy's owned this place for centuries and it must cost a fuckton of Euros, but he still needed loans after both wars. I should've refused." "Ah, yes. You could've refused after the Great War and brought the second one upon us sooner or refused after the second and have him be a satellite state for the USSR. That would've been so much better for Austria, Europe, and the world as a whole. Dammit, Alfred, why don't you make even more brash decisions?" America flipped him the bird. "I hate you so much." Britain handed the keys to the valet. "Then get out of my car." The two walked up and into the house. Before stepping into the main ballroom, Alfred offered Arthur his arm. That elicited an eye roll and blush from Arthur. Nonetheless, he gratefully took it. The ballroom was an explosion of color and sound. Vibrant paintings were hanging throughout, surrounded by jeweled frames that sparkled in the bright lights of the various chandeliers. Above the hum of the other nation's voices, a full orchestra could be heard playing a variety of classical pieces - both contemporary and from centuries past. Arthur shook his head. "This takes you back to the Enlightenment." Alfred shrugged. "Needs more revolution to fit my memory of the time." His partner elbowed him as France, Canada, Spain, and Romano walked up to them. "Matthew, Lovino, great to see you," Arthur then groaned in response to the sight of their dates. "Great, the three musketeers are here. Wait, where's the third? How are you not lost without your frightful leader?" Francis took Arthur's hand and kissed it. "Angleterre, you look as dreadful as always. Your eyes, the shade of fresh vomit. Your complexion, that of a ghost. Your voice sends a shiver up my spine like one, yet you are about as threatening as Casper." He smiled genuinely at Alfred. "Amèrique, so good to see you again. How's your country going? When should I expect the announcement of a union between you and Ivan?" Matthew sighed. "Do you have to start a fight? We're all supposed to be friends..." He was so tired. He wished everyone would grow up and find peace within themselves to not be petty all the time. "I'd give you a proper response, but I heard you're on strike from all common sense so I won't waste my breath. Though you're awfully mean tonight. Who spiked your wine? Normally you're funnier than this. Where's my comedy?" Arthur sighed. "He's pissy 'cause that piano bastard rejected his wine. I don't blame him, French wine tastes like piss," Lovino shrugged. Antonio gave him a look. "He rejected yours as well." Lovino took a sip from a bottle of red wine. "The bastard's loss is my gain. I'm happy I was smart enough to bring two." He pointed with the un-open bottle. "The albino bastard was helping Elizaveta help the piano fuck with something." He turned around and started walking away. "I'm gonna get hammered. I hate these things." America saluted him as he walked away. "Godspeed, dude." Gilbert came sauntering up to them with Erzsébet. His shirt was a bit untucked in a way that was meant to look effortless, but he'd spent at least ten minutes working on and his tie was loosened. Erzsébet's usual flower had been replaced with one matching her green dress. "Alright! Now the party can actually start! Francis, 'Tonio, Al, and we'll get ol' Artie a little drunk so he can relax and have some fun. Matty, are you in or are you in? I saw Lovino had already started so we gotta start catching up to him." Prussia grinned wickedly. "Either that or we can take Silesia for old time's sake. It's not too far from here. I remember the route." Hungary hit his arm. "You're not getting shit faced here! If you do, I won't hear the end of it from Roderich or Feliks! You'll also embarrass your brother-" "I embarrass him all the time. But, if it means so much to you, I'll be sober enough to function throughout this whole boring thing." Gilbert kissed her cheek. He then turned his attention back to the group. "So what's up?" Arthur and Francis had been glaring at each other throughout the whole ordeal. Alfred and Matthew were sharing apologetic looks. Antonio was rocking back and forth on his heels, feeling out of place. Gilbert and Erzsébet looked at each other. "I'll catch up with you guys later. We're gonna not be here." He pointed some finger guns at them and the couple left as quickly as possible. Antonio saw that the deadlock remained between the two rivals. He figured they weren't even paying attention and slipped away to find Lovino so they could dance. Meanwhile, Britain and France had come up with more insults to hurl at each other. Canada and America sighed. "You think they'll ever grow up?" Canada asked, not caring if they heard. He knew they wouldn't though. They were too absorbed in themselves. "At their old age? Hell no, bro. We're stuck with them like this. Forever." They both groaned at that prospect. Out of the corner of his eye, America saw Germany by himself, going out onto the balcony. He remembered the mental note he'd made to talk to the other nation at this thing. Alfred patted his brother on the arm. "Hey, I gotta talk to Germany real quick about something. Make sure they don't start a brawl." The American swiftly moved between the sea of nations, apologizing whenever he bumped into someone. He paused before the entrance to the balcony and fixed his jacket and bowtie. He put on his most winning smile and stepped outside. He found Germany with his back to the entrance, staring out over the horizon. The German stood tall and erect with his hands behind his back, showing all his years of military training. America chuckled. "Ya'know, you remind me of what I imagine Jay Gatsby to look like." Germany turned around. He had heard the other’s footsteps so he wasn't surprised at his sudden company. "Hallo, Amerika," he smiled. "I hope I'm not wrong in taking that as a compliment." America walked up besides him. He leaned against the railing. "You're not. Fitzgerald wrote him with sexy in mind. You're not my type, but you're definitely a New York nine." Ludwig raised an eyebrow, but didn't object. He wasn't foolish enough to reject a compliment, even if he didn't believe it's validity. He watched his companion fish for a packet of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pockets. "What's your motive?" Alfred almost dropped the cigarette out of his mouth. He lit it before speaking. "And they say I don't have tact. Dude, what are you talking about?" "We're not friends. Our alliance is one of mutual beneficence. We only talk at meetings or when we have cause due to work. The most I've said to you in a casual setting was thanking you for inviting me to your Christmas party and hoping you had a happy holiday season. You saw me out here alone and came out here alone when you could've easily brought along Britain or Canada to get either away from France." He smirked at the American's shocked expression. "Ja, I saw. The three of you are rather loud. I feel bad for your neighbors." America blinked for a few seconds. "Ok, a lot of questions. First, you actually made a sexual innuendo? Second, why do you always call us by our nation's names? I've got no problem with you calling me Al or Alfred, but I do reject Alfie." "It's not professional. We're nations. Those names are a guise for our people and to make our bosses more comfortable when they're with us." He scoffed. "You act like I have no sense of humor. You know who my brother is. But we're sidetracked. What do you need? Whatever it is, I'll do my best to help you." "Honestly, it was nothing serious. Kinda just wanted to get to know you better. And make up for the bad taste my new boss may have left in your mouth." He smiled sheepishly. Germany laughed softly, unable to help himself at that fresh memory. "I appreciate that. It was quite a bitter one. Frau's worried, but I'm not. We can survive four years." He led America to a bench that was on the other side of the balcony. "If we're going to be here for awhile, may as well be comfortable. Why stand when you can sit?" America leaned back against it. "That's weird coming from you. I thought you were all anal about exercise." "I am, but standing isn't exercise. Also, it's foolish to waste any resources you have readily at your disposal." The two sat in silence. Germany sat expectantly, waiting for America's line of questioning to begin. It took Alfred awhile, but he finally figured out where he wanted to start. "You've been doing real well lately. You're the golden boy of Europe, holding everyone up." "I have to. Your boyfriend leaving the EU makes me the only one with a strong enough economy to help the others. Not like he was always much help anyways, but I can handle it. France will have to pick up some slack though." Ludwig paused and thought for a second. "Schiessen. This better not be some sort of pep talk. Gilbert's given me plenty and Russia tried giving me one a few weeks ago and it was the worst thing I've endured in a long time." Alfred laughed. "For real? Like hell I'd do that. I ain't much older than you. It'd be weird to put you through that. I'd only ever give you advice if you asked and I don't think you would. The only thing I could tell you how to do is win a world war, but you seem to be done with those." "Nein, I've had plenty of time to figure that out as well. Don't back the wrong horse and don't invade other countries under false pretenses then break your treaty with the country that will crush you. It's shockingly simple, but hindsight is twenty-twenty." He joked, but there wasn't a hint of amusement in his voice. America ignored it. "Seriously, dude. I don't get how you do it. If I had that many countries I was responsible for, I think I'd kill myself." Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "You are responsible for more nations than I am. The difference is I do my job better." "Technically I am, but no one realizes unless they have to. Listen to the news, you hear about something in Europe, you're gonna be involved in someway. It's always positive too. That's what blows my mind. None of them hate you-" "Practically all of them hate me." "But they work with you! They'll talk shit about you, complain about you, make some pretty good jokes, but you get stuff done! They don't like you, but they trust you. How?" "You're not at the EU meetings. A lot of the times, stuff doesn't get done that was on the docket. It's the G7, G20, NATO, and UN meetings on a much smaller scale. You're hyping up headlines." The German glanced at the American's cigarette. He had kicked the habit years ago, but this conversation was making him want to pick it back up. America shook his head. "Whatever dude. You know what I'm trying to say. All the others listen to you and you don't even have nukes! I don't get shit done anymore. It's like I'm past my prime. I gotta go into retirement, hang up my jersey." Germany rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If the whole purpose of this was for you to try to get me to reject football and embrace baseball, I'm throwing you off the balcony." "I used to hear all this talk from my old boss about how you kept moving up and moving up," Alfred ignored what the other had said, too lost in his own thoughts. "Even on the news and in some of my paper's. And shit, dude. I can't deny it. For fuck's sake, I see it first hand every month or so!" He laughed and took a drag off his cigarette. He looked up at the night sky. "Makes me think that you should've been a superpower instead of me." There was silence for a long time between them. America was happy with himself. He'd given Germany the best compliment he possibly could. Anything that may have happened between their bosses would now be smoothed over and they could continue working like they had for decades now. He silently congratulated himself on his brilliance. If America had bothered to look at the man besides him instead of at the stars, he would've noticed that he was wrong in how he thought his words would be received. Germany's body was tense and rigid. He ground his teeth together. His hands twitched to smack the proud expression off the other nation's face. He let out a shaky breath. "Go fuck yourself, Alfred." Alfred's gaze snapped at Ludwig. "Huh?" He tilted his head to the side. Germany rose and began pacing the length of the balcony. His body trembled, trying to contain all his anger. "Ja! I should be the one with the nuclear codes! The world would be so much better! I mean, I did have two shots at it. Prussia would be happy if the Hohenzollerns, a family that's slightly less inbred than the Hapsburgs, were making all the important decisions. The 1910s would've been so much better under a kaiser who would've fucked a navy vessel if he could've found an available hole!" America had his arms crossed. He rolled his eyes as the other spoke. "You're being overdramatic. It was a compliment!" "Nein! It's not. It's really not. Oh, how could I forget! The more likely outcome of me being a superpower! We'd all be fucking Nazis! Either Nazis or communists because I wasn't gonna take Russia down. Now that, that's the world I wished we lived in! Danke, Amerika. I no longer have guilt because I know that people would've preferred a genocide to never end!" He paused, finally calming down a little. He also realized he was shouting. "Do you ever think before you speak? Ever consider the meaning behind what you say?" "I thought you'd wanna hear that! I'm saying you could do my job better than me! Who wouldn't wanna hear that?" "A person who wanted your job and screwed the world over twice as a result. Maybe in your world that really means a lot. You can say that to Britain or France and they appreciate because they were good at their job. You can say that to Poland or the Italys and they feel like they're not the butt of the joke to the world. But you can't say that to me." He sighed and ran his hands through his hair, slicking it back more. "Danke. I work hard. I appreciate that it gets noticed. I don't want the world though. I'm not Gilbert or Roderich. I can't...I won't rule the world. I don't want to. I don't deserve to. Ja, I may do a better job of it than you or Russia or China. All three of you terrify me." America scoffed. "Come on. I'm harmless." "I fought against you in two wars and I was your buffer zone in the Cold War. You've dragged the Middle East into chaos for oil and as revenge for one terrorist attack. You have arsenals of nuclear weapons. You're the biggest threat of anyone at this unfortunate social gathering and, if it wasn't for Mutually Assured Destruction, I think you'd be blowing up nations left and right." He sighed again and shook his head, muttering curses in German. "Can you please go? Danke. I understand what you meant. Just...don't talk to me again for the rest of the night. Or unless you have to. I can't deal with this much stupidity." Germany moved back to where he was standing when America first walked out. America rose and stomped out his cigarette. He began moving towards the door. When he reached it, Germany's voice stopped him. "America, before you go. I figured I'd pay you a compliment that I know will get my message through your head. You're one fantastic empire and remind me a lot of Rome. Getting close to the same age as when he fell as well. I'd keep that in mind if I were you." Alfred's hand hovered over the door knob. All the tales he'd ever heard about Rome flashed to mind. The scarred body, the constant battles, how quickly everything crumbled once the invasions began. He then imagined the same happening to him - his states with too many rights rising up, his territories rebelling, Canadian and Mexican invasions. Shuddering, America quickly exited the balcony. He leaned against the door, closed his eyes, and sighed. Alfred decided he'd had enough of this party and quickly left with Britain, breaking up a fight about to happen. Meanwhile, Germany found himself caught up in the past. He remembered the vision Hitler had sold to him of German dominance of the globe. He saw the globe being covered in a swastika and shivered. He could taste how close he was to that vision before the image of Hitler's dead body in the rubble of the bunker flashed to his mind. He then tasted the disgust and hatred for himself as everything came to light, as he found the extent of the damage his actions had caused, that he could still taste strongly on certain days. Ludwig shook his head, freeing himself of the past. "I am not meant to rule the world," he whispered to no one in particular. "But I will make it a better one. I owe it that much. That's where you and I differ, America. You have no reason to see yourself as the villain while I have no reason to see myself as anything but." 

[writtenonthesubwaywalls]

Boston

Alfred looked around at the dusty attic. There were many things in here, but none of them included the other countries. No, this is where his personal demons lie in wait, ready to consume him at a moment’s notice.

New York Decided that he was going to join him, despite all of the protesting that came from the nation. Jersey tagged along, too, just to annoy his slightly older brother.

“Hey, Tony! Come check this out!” He called across the room. York sighed and trudged over, pulling the bandana off of his mouth.

“What is so absolutely important that it required my attention right now ?” he asked, his accent laying thickly over the words. New Jersey just rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Look. It’s the outfits that each of us were found in! Isn’t it cool how they changed over the years? Like here, this one’s-”

“-Oregon’s,” America cut in, also coming over to look at the box. “I found him at the end of the Oregon trail. Of course, he wasn’t Oregon at the time; he just sort of was. You know what I mean?” He laughed a little before continuing, touching the fabric slightly. “He never got any bigger or older for the longest time. I was worried for him. I thought that he wouldn’t make it and he would fade. He didn’t, though.” He laughed again, setting the small, brown wool pants down next to the box, and folding the little white shirt and setting it on top. “God I sound like such an old man. How do you two e put up with me?”

“We don’t,” said Anthony, frowning and crossing his arms.

“Oh don’t listen to him! We love to listen to your stories! I always find them the most entertaining ones, after all,” said Michael. Always opposites, they were. Jersey looked down again, picking up another outfit; this one a small white dress, similar to the one America was found in. The only difference was that this one was stained with blood spatters. Michael looked at it for a minute before asking, “Alfred, whose… was this?”

America looked at it for a second, before gasping and stumbling backwards, clutching at his chest, before blacking out.

“America?”

“America!”

~~~~~flashback~~~~~~~

Alfred stood, staring at the crowd forming before him through his second story window. How dare those Redcoats! It’s like trying to tax everything we get wasn’t enough for them!  He thought, looking down in disgust. First, the Brits pass the Townshend Acts, which pretty much put an outrageous tax on everything that they got from the British. Then, when the Americans refused to buy it because the couldn’t afford any of it, they sent over Redcoat troops to try and force us to! Who did they think they were?!

While he was thinking these dark and dangerous thoughts, he felt a small tug on his pants. Looking down, he saw his newest little sister, Boston, which is where they were now.

“Boston? Dear, what is it? Do you need something?” He asked, crouching down so he could speak to her on her level. Since Boston was a city, she was unique; an anomaly of sorts. Being this anomaly, he had decided to wait to introduce her to the colonies until there was less fighting and unrest in his country. The only one who knew was Massachusetts, but that’s because he was the one who found her.

“There’s Redcoats in front of the Old State house!” she whined, “And the people are fighting with them again!”

“Alright,” he said, standing and straightening his clothes, “Let’s go check it out, okay?”

Boston nodded, grabbing his hand and following him out the door and into the streets. It didn’t take them long to get there, but when they did, they were welcomed with the sight of a large crowd of people, all shouting and jeering, some even throwing small things like rocks and pebbles at the people in the middle.

And in the middle, with arms at the ready, stood nine British soldiers. They all were wearing scowls on their faces, tense in the arms and hands. One of them started shouting, and the rest of them quickly stood, aimed, and-

fired.

Alfred fell to his knees when the screaming started. He could feel sharp, burning pains searing through his chest, arms, legs, everywhere. His body hurt and the screaming was piercing his ears. The feeling was so overwhelming that he lost Boston, but it didn’t take him long to notice that she was gone.

“Boston?” he called, pushing away his own pain in a wave of terror and adrenalin. “Boston! Where are you?” He heard a small whimper come from somewhere to his left.

Following the sound, he saw Boston, crumpled against the wall of the state house. He also saw a familiar mess of blond hair running in the other direction. But that was unimportant right now; his attention was all for the little girl on the ground.

He ran across the brick street, using the wall as a brake and crouching down once again.

“A-ameri..ca…” she whispered, her right hand reaching up to touch his face.

“Yes sweetheart, it’s me. It’s okay, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there.” He was terrified, to say the least. The blood was already dripping and pooling on the ground around the small figure. Just as long as it wasn’t England’s bullet…

“Alfred, why…isn’t it closing…yet?” She asked him, her voice even quieter than before. Her skin was pail and her hands were laid limply across her stomach, right over her wound.

“I-I don’t know,” he replied, tears starting to leave tracks down his cheeks. “ I don’t know, Boston. Come on, let’s get you home.” He bent and picked up the limp figure, cradling her in his arms.

“Alfred… we both know… that I won’t make it… past this… So please, win this war for me… okay?” Boston smiled ever so slightly, before closing her shiny gray eyes and releasing her last breath.

“Boston…” America whispered, touching their foreheads together, before looking up into the dreary sky. “England!” he screamed, his face contorted in anguish, "I swear, we will win this war! You are my brother no longer!“

———– "Alfred,” a familiar voice whispered, petting his head. He opened his eyes, looking up at his two companions.

“Alfred, are you alright? Is it the dress? Alfie, talk to us,” the voice said again. America groaned and sat up.

“Boston…” he whispered, looking down at the crumpled fabric draped over the edge of the box. Alfred reached out, picking up the small dress and holding it up to his chest. Both of his states looked at him with confusion. They had absolutely no idea what he was talking about.

“Boston, way back just before the revolution, had it’s own personification. She was the brightest little thing, always being at the forefront of the country. When someone said America, they thought of Boston.”

“But, Alfred, we already know that. We were personified long before this happened, you know. But we never once saw a personification of Boston. Only the colonies,” New York cut in.

“I know. The only one who knew about her was Mass, and that was only because he was the one who found her.”

“Why didn’t you introduce us to her, then?” asked Jersey.

“She was a personified city, not a state or nation. I didn’t think that she would be strong enough to survive for very long. So, I decided to wait to introduce her to you all until after the citizens calmed down a little. Obviously, we never got that chance.

"You see, one day we were just watching the people, nothing more and nothing less, when they began to gather around some redcoats in the street. Being the curious thing she was, she asked if we could go see what was going on. We went, and that’s when… that’s when they let the first shot fire. Then another, then another. It hurt, feeling all of this as such a new nation, and I was overwhelmed. Because of this, I lost sight of her, and didn’t find her for a whole minute of frantic searching,” he paused and took a breath, steadying his trembling voice.

“Finally, when I did find her, she was slumped against a wall, having been shot. This wouldn’t have been a big deal, but it was England-”

“Damn that fucking deserter”

“-who had fired the shot. So I held her there as she died in this very dress. I couldn’t bear losing any of you as well. I think that is what gave me enough drive to beat England in that war. As much as I hate to admit it, her death won us the war, and in turn, our independence.”

New Jersey was holding back tears while the twins comforted their brother. Even though they had never met her, they knew she had meant a lot to Alfred.

“Why is it that I can never manage to make it through cleaning my house one  time? That’s all I ask, is one time without being reminded of some war or another. Is that too much of a request?” he sighed, standing and placing the white dress back in it’s box, along with the rest of them.

——————-

Omake (bonus)

America picked up a small stuffed dog, brushing off its coarse fur.

“Hey, Anthony! Do you remember when I made you and your brother these matching dogs?” He asked, tossing the toy over to his younger sibling.

Anthony smiled a little, looking the animal over. “Yeah, I remember. We were so happy to get them, and have them matching. It was kind of funny how excited we both were about it. Do you remember, Jersey?”

“Pfft,” he scoffed, “Of course I remember! It’s not like I still have mine sitting on the shelf in my room or anything.” New York rolled his eyes.

“Of course you do.”

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 26

Mexico turned back to America and said “There you go, Alfred. That’s what happened when I returned to Spain. Now it’s your turn to tell me about how you ended up writing to me.” America responded “Wait, you left something out!” Mexico vaguely wished he had another cigarette. He decided to exercise some restraint and just respond “Oh really, Alfred? What am I leaving out?” America said in response “Well, what about Brazil and Portugal?” Mexico sighed “Well they aren’t directly part of me returning to Spain. But, if you really want to hear all the steamy details, then I will tell you”. America’s eyebrow arched up slightly, “Steamy? Now I really want to know.” The darker man laughed “You’re so strange. You don’t want to hear about Spain, but you’re perfectly ok with hearing about my sex life with Isabella.”

The other failed to respond to the actual comment and said “Oh, is that Brazil’s human name?” Mexico rolled his eyes “You know the fact that you don’t know the actual names of most of the South American countries might be an indication that you’re not well liked in this hemisphere.” America scoffed “No one dislikes me that much. I mean, I’m charming, aren’t I”. The response was immediate “No, you’re a complete idiot. I just happen to think you’re cute when you’re being stupid. You don’t hear the reactions I get when the other Latin countries hear that I’m with you. They don’t like you, trust me on this one.” America looked down, obviously somewhat ashamed of his reputation “So…ummm…How about that story, Alejandro?” __________________________________________________

It took Mexico a couple days to finally get the time to make the short trip to Portugal. He did it as soon as possible, because he had actually missed Brazil. The house was relatively quiet when Mexico arrived, but it didn’t take him long to find someone. However, it was not who he expected. The boy that Mexico met first was very dark skinned, obviously African. He appeared to be at least a couple years younger than Mexico. He looked the Spanish colony up and down before saying in Portuguese with an odd accent “Who are you and why are you here?"Mexico responded, not even fazed by the comment, "I could ask you the same thing.” The boy was about to say something in response when a very familiar female voice filled the air “Boy! Where did you run off to this time?” Mexico smiled, Brazil didn’t sound like she had changed at all. She appeared around the corner, apparently in a rage. She fixed her gaze on the African boy, so much so that she didn’t notice Mexico’s presence for a moment. He cleared his throat loudly to draw her attention.

Brazil looked over at Mexico and her jaw dropped. She pushed the African boy out from between them, none too gently, and threw her arms around Mexico. He couldn’t help but smirk “I take it you’ve missed me, Isabella?” She quickly released him and took a step backward, hurriedly attempting to tidy her hair. She said quickly “Of course not, idiot. I’m just surprised to see you back, that’s all.” The African boy attempted to intone on the conversation “Does someone want to explain what is going on?” Brazil snapped back “It’s none of your business, boy! Go do something else and let the adults talk!” He cast Mexico one more loathing look before disappearing.

Mexico watched him go and then turned back to Brazil “Who the Hell is he?” Brazil looked as if she didn’t want to really talk to him, but she answered all the same “That’s Angola. He’s one of a few African territories that Philip imports slaves from. With the tensions that are brewing over Africa, Philip figures it is safer to have them here.” Mexico nodded and said “I suppose we aren’t the exciting new colonies anymore. I take it you aren’t excited about having him around.” Brazil pushed a mass of curls up off her forehead in an irritated fashion, Mexico couldn’t help but notice that Brazil looked tired. She let go of the curls, which fell back in her face, then she looked Mexico in the eyes and said “Do I look like I want to babysit some little black boy?” The scorn in her voice reminded Mexico that Brazil was very scornful to almost everyone who wasn’t him.

He responded “Not good with children, that’s something I didn’t know about you”. She scoffed “I would be with my own children.” She paused and added “Or maybe I should say our children”. Mexico immediately gasped. For a second he was completely speechless. Children with anybody was not something he was prepared to consider. At once, he wondered if it was at all possible for such a young country to be pregnant.

Brazil kept a straight face for a couple seconds before she started laughing “God, you men are so easy to freak out. I’m not planning on having any children anytime in the next few millennia at least.” Mexico was so relieved that he let out a breath and put his hand to his chest “You can’t do that to me! I swear my heart stopped.” Brazil caught her breath, although she was still smiling “Phillip is going to be so happy to see you again. We better not keep him waiting.” He nodded in response. ___________________________________________________

Portugal was busy with a map of Africa in another room; he seemed to be drawing borders. Brazil walked into the room first and announced rather loudly “Phillip, you’re never going to guess who decided to show up.” The Portuguese man turned around, but didn’t verbally respond. Brazil gestured to Mexico, who presently walked into the room. Portugal looked completely shocked. Mexico walked farther into the room so that he and Portugal were closer together. He realized two things in that moment. Firstly, that he was now slightly taller than Portugal; secondly, that there was a young black girl sitting on the couch silently twisting a piece of frizzy hair around her finger.

Portugal recovered from the shock quickly and said “Well, how am I supposed to call you ‘boy’ when you’re taller than me?” Mexico raised his eyebrows slightly “I suppose you’ll have to find something else to call me other than my real name.” Portugal smiled “I can’t tell you how much I missed you. But of course, this isn’t about me, it’s about you. We should talk business.” Portugal walked over to the couch and irritatedly said to the girl who was sitting there “Get out of here, Mozambique”. She left without a single word. Portugal sighed “I have no idea how my brother deals with so many colonies. I’ve had my hands full with all of these African colonies.” Mexico sat on the newly vacated coach and said as he did so “The truth? He leaves most of us to our own devices. He usually only interacts with his colonies when he needs to correct behavior.” Portugal sat on another couch opposite the one that Mexico was sitting on. His green eyes showed a glimmer of fascination when he said “Or he hands a new colony to his favorite colony to manage.”

Mexico easily picked up on what Portugal was talking about “Ah, you mean Philippines. I did adopt her.” Brazil walked over to the couch and sat down next to Mexico. She leaned in and said very softly in Mexico’s ear “We know you adopted her, but the real question is if you fucked her.” Portugal heard what she said and responded “Isabella, that’s not the point!” She turned to her colonizer and said with a slight snarl “It is to me. I want to know if I am being replaced by some little Asian bitch.” Mexico responded to Brazil “She’s a girl. I’m not sleeping with her, despite the fact that everyone thinks I am. Isabella, why would you object to sharing me? You’re already sharing me with Catalina.”

Yet again, Brazil scoffed “Yeah, but you’re not actually sleeping with her.” Portugal cut in sharply “Children! This is not about Alejandro’s sex life, as interesting as that might be to both of you! It’s about something bigger.” Both of them immediately went quiet. Mexico was less than happy about be referred to as a child, but he respected Portugal enough to not make a big deal out of it. Once the other two were quiet, Portugal firmly said, “The girl is a risk, especially if she knows your plans. Is she a risk you can afford to take?”

Mexico nodded and leaned forward slightly. He responded to Portugal with the truth, as the older man was one of the few people he could share the whole truth, “I saw potential in her, and she has raw talent, but no skills yet. Most importantly, she has rage and hate. She hates Spain, for petty reasons, but it is hate all the same. I can mold her into whatever I desire. A risk, yes. But the possible reward is beyond reckoning.” Brazil made a snorting sound that indicated that she was not impressed.

Portugal shot her a look of irritation before turning back to Mexico “Does she know the truth about you? Does she know the full extent of your plans?” Mexico smirked “She thinks she does. She thinks I am working alone; she doesn’t know about my ties to you or Isabella. She also thinks I have yet to act against Spain, when I have already.” Portugal nodded “Good move, Mexico. What steps have you taken so far? My brother is cunning and bringing him down won’t be easy.” Mexico couldn’t help but feel proud of himself. He had been working by himself for so long and it felt good to get validation from someone he respected. So, naturally he was eager to reveal the rest “I have started to siphon off my own profits to fund a militia. It will strengthen me at Antonio’s expense. But in order to have my revolution, I need a reason for loyalists to join the rebellion. If another European country were to conquer Spain and plant their own monarch on the Spanish throne, then I would have a reason for even the most loyal creole to question my ties to Spain.”

Portugal caught onto Mexico’s meaning “Unfortunately, I can’t be that country. Me and my brother have had out feuds and if I were to attack him, it would not look out of place. But, the sad truth of the matter is that my royalty is too closely related to my brother’s. Any Portuguese prince can claim enough Spanish blood to keep the loyalty of the Spanish colonies. You will need a different pawn.” This was the only point at which Mexico felt disheartened “I was counting on your involvement. Do you know anyone else who has a plausible enough grudge?” Portugal shook his head “I would say England, but he is busy dealing with his own colony. As you know, my brother usually allies with France and Prussia. I doubt they will intervene in a revolution, but they may if Spain is directly attacked.” Mexico was already aware of Spain’s connection to Prussia and France, although he had never met either of them. He knew that if was to succeed, he needed a way to keep the other two occupied. That was an issue he had not yet figured out how to resolve.

The best response he could offer was “I don’t know what to do about them yet. But, I’m sure I can find a way to drive a wedge between them.” Portugal nodded again “You are a clever boy, Mexico, you will find a way. I trust that by now you don’t need me telling you what you should do. For now, I believe you and Isabella have some catching up to do.” The smirk that accompanied last few words made the unspoken meaning obvious. The Portuguese man discreetly stood up and left the room.

When he was gone, Mexico finally turned to Brazil, who had not commented on most of the conversation. She was smirking, as if hardly holding back a witty comment. Mexico figured he might as well get the scornful banter out of the way “Go ahead, insult me. I know you want to.” She leaned forward and kissed the Aztec boy on the lips. It was just as overwhelming as he remembered it being. She finally pulled back after a couple seconds and said “I was wondering if you were as good as I remembered you being. Let’s find out, shall we.” The boy didn’t need any more prompting.

He swiftly moved closer to Brazil and started kissing her again, first on the lips and then down her neck. She purred like a cat as his hands moved under her clothing. It was familiar and somewhat different. They had done this before, but now that they were both more mature, it felt like something had shifted. Brazil climbed onto his lap so that her beautiful legs were straddling him. He noticed that she was wearing a light skirt instead of her usual trousers, which made it possible for Mexico to run his hand up her leg.

She said breathlessly “I’ve missed you, Mexico”. He disengaged his mouth to respond “I’m sure you did.” She smiled and put her hands on Mexico’s shoulders “That’s enough for your self-esteem, lover boy. If you want more praise, you’ve got to earn it.” She gently pushed him back down so that he was lying on the couch. She eased Mexico’s shirt off, with some help from him. The first thing she noticed was the golden medallion, which was resting on his heart. She spoke again “This is interesting, you’ve embraced your true self so much more than you did when you were last here. I like it.” She leaned down and kissed his chest right next to the medallion. He couldn’t help but arch and moan a little. She got in one more word before connecting their lips again “My beautiful Aztec prince, it’s about time I remind you what you were missing.” One more shift of her hips against his was enough to drive him over the edge. ____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mexico straightened his shirt one more time, just to make sure that nothing was out of place. Brazil walked up behind him and played with his hair “You always get so agitated after we do this, it’s very noticeable.” Mexico shrugged agitatedly “I know what we’re doing is wrong. I keep my calm around everyone else, just not you.” Brazil brushed off Mexico’s shoulder “Say what you will, you missed me as much as I missed you. You were feistier this time than ever.” Mexico shrugged her off again, but this time he wasn’t certain that he wanted to. Brazil changed the subject “I wish you luck in finding a European sucker. I doubt it will be hard for you. But make sure you do it soon.” Mexico responded “I think I’ve finally figured out what to do when I’ve got one.”

[sailorgreywolf-legacy]

Legacy - Chapter 30

Mexico looked down at America’s hand, which was holding onto his thigh possessively. America spoke, more to himself than to Mexico “That bastard. I swear I should hurt him for this.” Mexico sighed, “This is the part where I remind you that all this happened centuries ago. I’m the only one who’s allowed to hold grudges for hundreds of years.” America moved his hand even farther up Mexico’s thigh. He looked concerned “So, did he come back that night?” The other laughed and put his hand on America’s “Of course not. I didn’t see him again until the next day. As usual, he apologized for losing his temper, promised he would wait for my consent, and we continued the dance.” America growled “Fucking pedophile. He took advantage of you.” Mexico didn’t have any love for Spain, but he still felt the need to defend him “He isn’t a pedophile. I was a teen, at that time it was perfectly acceptable. Had I been consenting, there would have been nothing wrong with us sleeping together.” The other looked down for a second, obviously not happy with being corrected. Then he changed the subject “Well, your work paid off. I got your letter.” _________________________________________________________________________________________

America looked around to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything important. Packing up the winter camp had been quite a production, but the new found discipline had made it so the army was able to reform into marching condition very quickly. Alfred actually felt like he was the one holding up the progress. There was something that had not ceased to bother him, and that was Mexico. He had received weapons from Spain, which meant that France must have talked to Spain. But, as far as he could tell, France had failed to give his letter to Mexico. America knew he should have expected as much from France. He had probably seen Mexico and decided that he didn’t need the American boy as competition. He turned around one more time and decided that he truly wasn’t forgetting anything. He walked out of the stark building, which was now empty.

It was then that a man, not wearing the uniform of the colonial militia, walked up to him. In another second, the mortal had a gun to his head. The one holding the gun was a colonial solider, the very same Virginian that America had talked to about letters. The solider said “I recognize Spanish colors. What do you want? In 5 words or less.” The unknown messenger glared at the Virginian before looking back at America “Mexico sends his regards.” America’s heart leapt into his throat, Mexico actually got the letter. Better yet, he actually read it. He addressed the solider “That’s enough, Lee. Let him go.” The man obeyed, although he looked like he didn’t quite trust the Spanish man. Once the gun was lowered, the messenger produced a letter, which was neatly folded and sealed. He handed it to America, saying as he did so, “I was instructed to give this to you and only you. You can trust that Spain knows nothing of this letter, or yours.” America took the letter silently and stared at it.

He expected it to vanish as soon as someone pinched him. At this point, it could be a rejection and he wouldn’t care. Mexico had taken the time to put pen to paper and write to him, and that was enough for America. He waited until the other two men walked away. He finally broke the wax seal and unfolded the letter. The first few lines made America feel lightheaded. It read “I have already forgiven you. I forgave you long ago. Don’t worry yourself over my situation when your own is so critical.”

He was forgiven. Everything he had been hoping for came true. He read the rest of the letter as quickly as humanly possible. He skipped over the little words like “a” and “the” in an attempt to absorb the letter more quickly. It wasn’t flowery or sentimental. The language was to the point and relatively brusque, it wasn’t hard to imagine Mexico speaking the words in his usual fashion. But, the message couldn’t be clearer: Mexico didn’t hate him; rather he wished America the best of luck in winning the revolution. The last words were, even with the complete lack of sentiment, the sweetest things America had ever read “I will think of you Alfred, enough for the both of us. You need not think of me. You have a war to win, now go and win it.”

After he finished reading the actual words, America found himself staring at the handwriting. It had a kind of elegance to it, but there was a restrained passion in the flourish at the end of each word. He ran his finger over the words; they left grooves in the paper where they had been written. America tried to imagine Mexico sitting down and writing this letter. In his imagination, Mexico was wearing a white undershirt and very tight black trousers. His black hair was held back in a ponytail. He also, for some reason had a smear of black ink across his cheek, which made him look amazingly sexy. America shook his head and the vision disappeared. The letter was still in his hand, much to his surprise. He had expected it to vanish.

Once the shock began to fade, America felt empowered. If he could get Mexico to write to him just through the force of his words, he could defeat England easily in battle. He folded the letter back up and put it in his pocket. He was going to hold onto this letter, most likely, until the day he died, which, considering the state of his army, wouldn’t be any time soon. He looked up at the horizon, which seemed to have turned incredibly blue, and said, to no one in particular “I’m going to go win my freedom.” _________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been a while since Spain and Mexico had their confrontation, and everything had returned to normal. Or at the very least, everything had returned to as normal as it had been before. It had been easier to spend more and more time with Puerto Rico. She was a soothing person to be around; she was uncomplicated and sweet. After all the drama and political scheming, Mexico was glad to have a little less complication. The only irksome thing was that Puerto Rico had started talking about wedding plans. Mexico didn’t want to be married for many reasons, most prominent among them being that he didn’t want to feel even guiltier about his infidelity. It was almost comforting to know that Spain was never going to actually let them be married. All the same, days spent with Catalina were days that Mexico barely saw Spain aside from the daily dinner, and even that had become awkwardly quiet.

It was a lovely morning in fall and Mexico could not stand being cooped up inside. Puerto Rico actually was the one to suggest they both go for a ride to enjoy the weather. It was a somewhat unspoken reason that they both wanted to get away from prying eyes. Colombia seemed to always walk in on them, and Mexico knew exactly why. Colombia was attempting to prevent any feeling of intimacy by making it feel like it was impossible to get a private moment. The time outside would give them solitude.

He met her in the front hall of the house. Her long hair was held back in a loose braid. She was dressed in a light dress, with a corset around her waist, in short, women’s riding clothes. He was dressed relatively lightly as well, as was fit for a casual occasion. He walked up to her with a smile, “Good morning, Cat. You look beautiful.” She blushed and looked down modestly. He walked forward a few more steps and put his hand softly under her chin and tilted it back up. Their eyes met and they both smiled at the same time. He smiled sweetly, an expression that was matched by Puerto Rico, and he said “You always look beautiful.” She replied “You would say that. You see me through biased eyes.” He could tell that this was false modesty, as was befitting a catholic girl, but he replied to it accordingly “I’m not blinded by love. Everyone can see how lovely you are. I’m just lucky you are mine to love.” She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek “You’re sweet to me. Shall we go? I had one of the servants prepare a picnic for us.” Mexico nodded and took her hand.

The horses were waiting outside, where they were already prepared. Philippines handed Mexico his reigns wordlessly. He could tell from her glare that she didn’t approve of him spending this time with his fiancé. However, he ignored it. It was not her opinion that mattered in regard to his love life. He mounted his horse, which Philippines had miraculously been able to saddle. With a flick of the reigns, Mexico’s stallion took off at full speed. Mexico greatly disliked riding slowly; it was like restraining the horse’s natural potential. Puerto Rico kept up easily. It was not lady like, but she understood that she needed to keep up with her fiancé.

The horses eventually slowed down as they tired. With the speed they were riding, they reached an open clearing, surrounded on one side by trees. At this point they both stopped. Mexico dismounted first and walked over to his fiancé’s horse. He helped her down by putting his hands on her waist and lifting her down. Once she was on the ground, she smiled up at him and said “You’re such a gentleman, Alejandro.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips before saying “Only for you my love.” She responded “Then I am a fortunate woman.” She returned his kiss more passionately. For a couple moments, there was nothing but the feeling of her lips against his. When they finally broke apart, Mexico couldn’t help but smile.

He wished life was really this simple. He profoundly wished he could tell Puerto Rico everything about his life, all the secrets he was keeping, but he couldn’t because she would not understand his hate. In the moment, he was stuck between two feelings. He wanted this simplicity and sweetness, but the need for vengeance kept him from being able to give his whole heart to her. She spoke “We should unpack the things and then we can talk.”

They set up the picnic under a tree so that they were protected from the sun. Although it was a nice day, the warm weather was a bit uncomfortable in direct sunlight. At first the conversation was light, mostly the gossip around the court. She mentioned lightly “I heard one of your couriers met a rather unfortunate end recently.” Mexico knew exactly who she was talking about. He couldn’t abide traitors within his own ranks, especially with so much at stake. He responded “It is sad, but some men should pick their bar fights more carefully.” That was not strictly true, but it was close enough. The man had died in a bar, but Mexico had personally been there. It had not been a fight; it had simply been a knife between the ribs. Puerto Rico didn’t see the incident as anything more than an unfortunate accident, which was the way it should be. From there, the conversation lapsed back into light discussion.

However, eventually Puerto Rico brought up something that seemed to be bothering her deeply “Alejandro, do you still love me?” He was understandably shocked “Of course I do, why would you ask me such a thing?” To emphasize the sincerity of his statement, Mexico put his hand softly on her cheek. Puerto Rico looked down for a second, as though looking for the right words to state her observation. She finally looked back at him and said, her voice relatively measured, “I feel that you are slipping away from me. When we first met, you looked at me with so much lust and passion that it was almost frightening. But now, I don’t see any of it. It is like I have been replaced by some greater passion, I know not what. I fear that if I do not reach out to you soon, I will lose you.” Mexico should have figured as much, Puerto Rico was seeing that he was not committed to the relationship. He couldn’t tell her why though, because that would require telling her about his revolution.

He came up with a response that was somewhat close to the truth, “Cat, I love you; I always have and always will. Partially, I have learned to temper my passions because I knew it scared you. I have also been distracted by recent events in the Americas. The revolution in the English colonies is close to my Northern border.” She seemed to be studying his eyes to see if the words were genuine, or perhaps she was looking for some spark of passion. Whatever she seemed to see in his eyes comforted her. She matched his hand on her cheek by putting her hand on his, “Don’t shut me out. Let me be a balm for your worry. I will do anything to make you happy.” She took his hand from her cheek and moved it to her thigh, which was covered in only light cloth. She repeated, her dark brown eyes looking directly into his, “Anything at all that would make you happy.” She moved his hand farther up her thigh.

Mexico was quick to stop that “You do not need to use your body to make me happy.” He pulled his hand away, “Sin is not the answer. We are not yet married, to consummate before marriage is a sin.” She sighed and took a small sip of wine “We are going to be married, so does the time matter? Our engagement is never going to be annulled. If this will rekindle your passion for me, I will do it.” Mexico was not as against sinning as he was saying, his affair with Brazil proved that. But, although he did feel lust towards Puerto Rico, he wanted her to be pure. She was one of the few truly innocent people in his life, and he didn’t want to corrupt that innocence. He also knew that when the revolution came, their engagement would be broken. If she was not a virgin at that time, then she would eternally hate him for his deceit. He responded again “You don’t need to, Cat. All I need you to do is be there for me when I am in need of a sympathetic ear.” She nodded and looked slightly relieved. Mexico touched her cheek again and ran his hand lightly down her face and neck. He leaned in again and kissed her lips again. His hands were more brazen now to show his passion. He let them roam over her chest. She pulled herself closer, using one of her hands around his neck. They were dangerously close to both losing control, but it didn’t matter.

The moment was broken by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him. Mexico broke the kiss to turn around. A mortal messenger was standing behind him, looking at the two of them with a mix a fascination and envy. Mexico addressed him “I did specifically state that I did not want to be disturbed today. This better be very important.” The man spoke “Spain has summoned you. He said you must return at once. It is urgent.” The Aztec boy swore under his breathe, but he knew that he needed to heed the order. He looked at Puerto Rico and said “I’m sorry; I do not want to abandon you.” She responded “You have your duties, I can wait for you.” Mexico nodded and stood up. _________________________________________________________________________________________

The ride back was short, but it gave him time to think about things. He had no idea what could be so urgent, but summons from Spain were very rarely good. He reached the house and quickly found Spain in one of the larger rooms with Peru, Colombia, Bolivia, Chile, and Venezuela, the last of whom had come to Spain at the same time Mexico had. It must be a truly important matter if all of the big colonies were here to talk about it. Spain seemed exceptionally agitated; he was pacing rapidly. Once he had noticed Mexico’s presence, he said with a sweeping gesture “Good, everyone is here. You should all sit; I have a lot to say.”

Venezuela sat in the only available armchair. Predictably, Bolivia, Chile, and Peru all sat together on the biggest available couch. This left Mexico to sit with Colombia on a rather small couch. The other glanced suggestively at Mexico, who tried his best to ignore how provocative Colombia was being. Spain didn’t pay attention to the seating arrangements, which was lucky. Instead, he started speaking at once “I have received a letter from France. The 13 colonies have won the war for independence. He is now one country and he is calling himself the United States of America.” Everyone, with the exception of Chile, started talking at once, mostly to each other. Colombia turned to Mexico and said simply “So it is possible.” The Aztec boy responded “Not for anyone else, now Europe is on high alert.”

Spain quickly took control of the conversation, “Quiet, everyone. I am aware of how shocking this is. No one thought an upstart like him would ever be able to win. But I need to stress to you all that I am not England. We need to stand strong as an empire, not fracture. I will not tolerate revolution in my empire.” Mexico understood why Spain was resorting to bluster; revolution could spread now that it was proven to work. Spain, of all people, was scared of losing his empire. It was the only thing that had ever brought him prestige, and he couldn’t lose that. Spain continued to talk, “You are all strictly forbidden from communicating with the United States in any way. I will not have him corrupting any of you. If he attempts contact, I want to know at once.” He finally stopped pacing and looked directly at Mexico, “Alejandro, I want you to be especially cautious. Alfred has shown interest in you.” Colombia scoffed “Well that figures. Alejandro does seem to attract eyes.” Mexico glanced over at him. Colombia looked completely and utterly jealous. Spain concluded “That is all. Remember that revolution is the worst kind of sin, and god will not save your soul after I break your body. You are all mine, and that is not going to change, not now or ever at any point in the future.”