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Secrecy and Deception Chapter 28

The World Holds Its Breath (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Event: Cuban Missile Crisis

Location: America’s House, The Land In-Between

Date: October 25, 1962

America was furious. He had been for the past eleven days when he found out that nuclear weapons were in Cuba, nuclear weapons that could be used to attack his family, some of which were also Cuba’s family!

That bastard hadn’t just sided with that damned communist but betrayed them. Why? America had tried to do his best by Cuba. He helped Cuba fight against Spain, helped Cuba to gain his independence, and then ensured that he got it. He helped Cuba reunite with his family, and this was the thanks he got. A knife to his throat?

“Cuba has good reason to be upset with you,” James said. America clenched his fists, trying to calm his rising anger.

“What…what does that mean, James?” America asked, trying to keep his voice even. He had a lot of respect for his brother, but if James was even thinking that the bastard was in the right—

“You put him under a military government. You know what that’s like. You stripped away his autonomy and used it to control him, like Britain—”

“I didn’t make that decision. I didn’t put him under a military government,” America refuted. That wasn’t his choice, and James knew it, so why pretend that America should be the one to take the blame for it?

“Never stopped you from taking advantage of it. Cuba has every right to be furious that you violated his autonomy like that. Especially since it was used to make him susceptible to giving you Guantanamo Bay and agreeing to the Platt Amendment,” James added.

“He wasn’t under a military government then! I never forced him!” America protested. 

“Didn’t you? You know how long influence like that lasts,” James said. America pressed his hands to the side of his head, trying to block out the memories that returned with those words.

“That’s different! I was trying to help him!”

“Funny. Britain always said the same thing when he beat us,” James said, voice dry. “Besides, you knew ways to give him more autonomy with that military government! You did so with Alaska, but Cuba got nothing?”

“Cuba wasn’t under a military government that long. Not…not as long as Alaska. I was busy, trying my best. I…I wasn’t hurting him!” America protested, but even he could hear how weak they sounded. 

“Well, he’s never been friendly towards you, even when you were allies, after you ‘helped’ him with his war of independence, aside from the couple of years after military government. If that’s someone who appreciates and loves you, we have very different definitions of the word,” James added.

“Well, I tried to help, and he has to… he knows I was trying to help. Maybe I didn’t go about it the best way, but he should know that,” America argued.

“Britain said he helped when he hu—”

“I’M NOT BRITAIN!” America said, slamming his hands on the table in front of him before speaking in a quieter voice, “I’m not.”

“You’ve acted like him. You’re an empire. You’ve made people who trusted you colonies. Philippines, Cuba, Puerto Rico…and Hawaiʻi. She was angry for a reason, you know that. You hurt her. Everyone deals with that in different ways, but I…I think Cuba is trying to prevent another invasion of his land. He decided to try and be his own country after losing a fucking dictatorship, and you invade him because you don’t like his choices. You aren’t his father. You aren't his country. You’re a stranger that hurt him. This isn’t a betrayal. This is someone who wants to protect himself. And I know far too much about that.”

America stood there, mouth gaping open at James’ impassioned speech. He had never heard his brother sound so…invested in something.

“How long have you wanted to say that?” America asked.

“A long time. But I have pointed it out before. You’ve ignored it before. I guess…I guess you’re listening now. But…you’ve become too much like Britain. You aren’t the child I used to protect. Sometimes you’re a stranger that seems more like Britain than…than Roanoke, than Jamestown, than you,” James said before sighing.

America couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How had his brother lost faith in him? America…America wasn’t like his father. His father hurt for the sake of power, the sake of hurting. America wanted…he wanted…

“I want to keep people safe. Protected. I’m not an abuser,” America said, spitting out that last work as if it had burned him.

“You can still hurt people. You have. What is safe to you? You have used that excuse to make people colonies, to justify occupying nations and overthrowing governments. Is that safe? Or are you just lying to yourself so you don’t face the truth of your actions? You remember how Hawaiʻi was when she came to love with us. Was that a woman who was safe or a woman who was scared?” James pointed out. America shook his head.

“I’m trying,” he said, but the words sounded desperate to his own ears. He had been trying to keep Hawaiʻi safe. He didn’t cause that pain. That was the republic, that wretched little child that would have killed his—his friend for an ounce of power. He—

Was he like that? 

No.

No, he couldn’t be. Britain wanted power. America didn’t. He was…he was good—a good person.

He was helping—trying to, at least. He didn’t want to cause pain. 

He…he…

“I can leave you to think. But you need to consider how…how much you’ve taken after your father,” James said, and before America could protest, his brother was gone, not even a trace of his presence remained.

America swallowed, hands gripping the table tighter. 

He closed his eyes and began to think.

He thought about Hawaiʻi. He loved her as a sister and never tried to hurt her. She had been…different after her annexation, but America always attributed that to the republic. But if he had really hurt her, then surely…there would be some memory of it. If not, then James was wrong, his outburst one that was just caused by stress from the missile crisis.

America had been so confident in that outcome, but the more memories he thought over, the more…the more a horrific realization dawned on him.

“Dee-dee?” America called, trying to keep the panic from his voice, his grip on the table keeping him steady.

“Yeah? What is it, Dad?” District of Columbia called from another room.

“I’m not feeling well. I think I need to lie down. If something comes up with Cuba and the USSR, can you handle it?” America asked, hoping that District of Columbia would say yes and not investigate further.

“Sure? Are you alright? Should I get you something?” District of Columbia asked, her voice closer to the door.

“NO!” America exclaimed, voice panicked. “I mean…you’re doing enough as is. I can’t thank you enough. I just…I need a break.”

“You deserve one,” District of Columbia said, sounding concerned but not opening the door. America heard her walk away, and he reluctantly let go of the table, walking to the door and locking it before going to his liquor cabinet.

Now that he had started looking for it, the memories came flooding back, years of America being…being terrible to Hawaiʻi.

He didn’t want them to keep coming back. He wanted them to go away.

America tipped the bottle back and let the alcohol burn his throat, and praying to God it would stop the never-ending stream of memories. 

He wanted to forget.

• ───────────────── •

Event: Cuban Missile Crisis

Location: Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America

Date: October 26, 1962

District of Columbia had not expected this. She hadn’t expected an ABC news correspondent to report that he had been approached by a Soviet agent proposing an agreement to end the missile crisis. 

The White House was scrambling to verify it, eager for a solution to the crisis that had left District of Columbia’s family panicked. Especially her father, who had locked himself in his room, presumably because he was so stressed he had made himself sick. Especially with how he wasn’t sleeping very much. 

He needed a break, so District of Columbia was happy to take some of the pressure off of his shoulder.

No one else was doing much better, although some of the states with closer connections to the Navy had decided to participate in the quarantine of Cuba in order to feel like they were doing something to help. 

It was a big mess. 

“DC!” one of the White House aides called, gesturing for her to come over.

“What is it?” District of Columbia asked. 

“We have received a message from Khrushchev,” they said. District of Columbia’s head shot up, and she quickly walked over, her heart pounding.

“What does it say?” she asked. 

“I’m not sure. I was just told to grab you,” the aide said. District of Columbia nodded and thanked the aide before rushing over to President Kennedy.

“Mr. President! What does the message say?” she asked.

“The message resembles what the ABC representative told us,” President Kennedy said. District of Columbia frowned.

“So it was real. Is…are we going to take it?” District of Columbia asked.

“I’m not sure. We need time to properly hash it out. Where is your father?” President Kennedy asked.

“He’s sleeping. The stress from this kept him up for too long, and he needed to sleep. He should be back soon,” District of Columbia answered. She hoped so, at least.

“Well, I don’t want to finalize any sort of agreement without consulting him, but…if I have to, I will. Tell him that I want to talk to him about the agreement, so he’s at least aware of it,” President Kennedy asked. District of Columbia nodded.

“Don’t worry, I will.”

• ───────────────── •

Event: Cuban Missile Crisis

Location: America’s House, The Land In-Between

Date: October 26, 1962

America let the alcohol cloud his mind. 

The thoughts weren’t leaving.

It was all America could think about, how he had hurt people, how he had denied the pain he caused. 

James was right. America did pretend that he didn’t hurt people, but he did.

He loved Hawaiʻi, but he had hurt her.

He had done worse than that. 

America hadn’t wanted to do it. He hadn’t meant to. He had been lied to, tricked into thinking that the Hawaiian-Samoan Confederation had died upon the overthrow when that hadn’t been the case. He had convinced himself he wasn’t to blame for it, but…his annexation killed that child.

He killed Hawaiʻi’s son. America had been trying to convince himself that he wouldn’t have done it if he knew it would kill Confederation, but a few more swigs from the bottle, and his excuses faded.

America had cried a lot, and his tears had long since dried, leaving America light-headed and shaking. 

He had heard people knocking on the door, trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, each new voice sending a new pang of guilt into his chest. 

The southern states. America had used martial law against them. Was…was the only reason they still spoke to him because of that? Had he forced them to love him the way that Britain forced America to love him?

America didn’t know, but he felt like shit, each new memory being contextualized and showing America how terrible of a person he was.

How could America talk to his children, whom he loved so dearly, if all he ever did was hurt the people he loved?

No.

It was better to be here, alone, where no one could be hurt by him again.

And maybe someday he could actually make up for his sins. 

• ───────────────── •

Event: Cuban Missile Crisis

Location: Washington, District of Columbia, United States of America

Date: October 27, 1962

District of Columbia was worried about her father. What she thought was him taking a well-deserved break had devolved into…into something, and she knew that it was a situation that was only going to end poorly. 

But at the same time, she couldn’t be the one to focus on that, having turned into the countryhuman liaison for the White House at a time when tensions being high was an understatement. 

So, she kept her focus on the missile crisis.

Khrushchev had sent another message, different from the one from the evening before, which said that the Soviets would remove their missiles from Cuba if Father removed his from Turkey. 

It was different than the one from last night, and District of Columbia wasn’t sure how that deal would work out. While they were still looking for a diplomatic solution, preparations to attack Cuba were being made. If these deals didn’t work out, then war might be imminent. 

And war, well, that was the last thing anyone needed. 

District of Columbia was pacing outside of the Oval Office, waiting anxiously for a decision to be made. She wished that her father could have been consulted, but his door was still locked, and he wouldn’t even open it for his cat. 

In order to keep people from becoming suspicious, District of Columbia had told them her father wanted peace, which she knew to be true, and told them that he was trying not to let his health slip. 

She wasn't sure if they believed her, but it was better than them knowing the truth.

Eventually, she was called back into the office.

“Have we come to an agreement?” she asked.

“We’re ignoring the second message and only responding to the first one. They remove their missiles from Cuba under UN supervision, and we guarantee not to invade Cuba,” President Kennedy laid out. District of Columbia frowned.

“Are you sure they will accept that if we ignore their second message, the one that seems more official?” she asked.

“We can only hope. I don’t want to have to remove our missiles from Turkey. We will see if we have to once we get a response back, but it looks as if diplomacy would work,” President Kennedy explained. District of Columbia nodded.

At least there were attempts at diplomacy. That was all she could ask for. She only hoped this deal worked out in the end.

• ───────────────── •

Event: Cuban Missile Crisis

Location: Havana, Republic of Cuba

Date: October 28, 1962

Cuba was annoyed. 

Once again, he had been overlooked in favor of an agreement between two larger powers. He didn’t know why he had been surprised, and he should have seen this ending to the missile situation.

And yet…a small part of him couldn’t help but hope, maybe, this time it would be different.

Cuba had wanted those missiles because it guaranteed that the United States wouldn’t invade his country again, gave him some level of protection against the United States.

Yet, here the missiles were, being removed because United States had promised that he wouldn’t invade Cuba. That was all it took. A promise.

Like United States hadn’t broken them before. Like he was a trustworthy person.

It infuriated Cuba. 

But what could he do? He couldn’t make the USSR keep the missiles here, not when the threat of war was so large. 

He didn’t trust United States. He didn’t trust him to keep his promise. Even if it wasn’t an invasion, United States had shown no qualms before about overthrowing the governments of other countries to keep more of them loyal to him, even if that loyalty was artificial.

He wondered what Puerto Rico and Florida had thought of all this. Had they supported the blockade? Had this entire mess made them believe that Cuba wanted them dead? Had they decided he wasn’t worth the effort and disowned him?

Cuba had better allies now, but he felt so bitterly alone. 

He didn’t even have a veil of safety to make it seem less strong. 

He hated it.

• ───────────────── •

Event: Cuban Missile Crisis

Location: America’s House, The Land In-Between

Date: October 28, 1962

America hadn’t expected them to get Hawaiʻi. He had…he had figured his states would keep trying something, but…why would they get her?

Hawaiʻi hated him. Just like she should. She deserved to. 

But she was here.

America exhaled shakily, reaching for her language, something he knew was in his grasp. He couldn’t apologize in English. It would have been shallow. She deserved better.

“E kala mai ia’u,” he said, letting her language tumble from numb lips.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t ever enough. 

Perhaps God had known America was making a mistake. That was why He had given Hawaiʻi phoenix features. To punish America for his sins. To ensure that America would live with the same fear and anxiety she would.

America wanted to be punished. He had to be.

He felt so so alone.

He didn’t remember what happened next. He thought…America thought he was talking to Hawaiʻi, and then James and Unorganized Territory were there, and when he blinked again, he was sitting in his bed, room clean and liquor cabinet missing, Virginia at his side.

America still felt distant.

He wished he could stay that way forever.

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 33

Valley Forge (Wattpad | Ao3)

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December 20, 1777

United States didn’t expect the feeling when it hit. He had been helping to build another log hut when a sense of strength hit him, intoxicating and powerful. He didn’t realize how weak he had been until he was filled with that strength.

“What was that?” Delaware asked.

“What was what? What are you talking about? Did something happen?” James asked. United States ignored him, too busy basking in the strength that seemed to push aside the cold, leaving him warm and content. United States let out a little laugh, causing the soldier next to him, Sam, to look over.

“Something funny?” he asked. United States just smiled.

“I do believe I have just been recognized by another nation,” he said. United States could think of nothing else that would grant him this kind of strength. 

“We have?” James asked, sounding more excited than United States had ever heard him before.

“We have?” Sam asked, his tone full of cheer and excitement, “Who?”

“I don’t know. I only feel the feeling of strength, one that comes with recognition,” United States explained. “We probably won’t find out who for a few weeks at most.”

“Do you think it is France?” Sam asked. 

“I hope so, but I don’t know. I should go let the general know of this development unless you still want my aid?” United States asked. Sam laughed, waving him off.

“I can build my own hut. You take care of business,” Sam said. United States nodded, smiling as he walked off toward the general’s home, listening to his states celebrate the good news. After informing the general (and being subjected to an interview that went nowhere, United States still had no idea which country it was), United States retired to his tent for the night.

He sat at his desk and pulled out a pen and paper, preparing to write a letter to whoever it was that recognized him. He wanted to capture his feelings, his states’ feelings, the celebration and the joy, and the strength while they were still fresh in his mind.

He needed this country to know how wonderful their gift truly was.

To the country that has just recognized my independence.

I know not your name or your face, but I feel the strength you have given me in this trying time. You have my eternal gratefulness. I felt a strength upon becoming a country, but it is nothing compared to the strength you have given me with your recognition. I know not how I can even begin to repay you for this act of kindness, but know, for as long as politics and life allow it, you will have a friend in the United States of America.

With more gratitude than you could ever know, 

The United States of America

• ───────────────── •

December 31, 1777

United States woke slowly. 

Exhaustion tugged at his limbs, and it took all his energy to open his eyes. He felt somewhat stiff, and he struggled to put his fuzzy thoughts together.

His head was suspiciously quiet. Where had they gone?

“United States?” someone asked, and United States looked over to see the camp doctor standing beside him.

“Yes?” he asked, trying to shake the confusion from his mind. The doctor seemed to relax at his words.

“Oh, praise be to God,” he muttered. United States blinked.

“Did something happen?” he asked, searching through his memories. What did he last remember…he remembered being recognized, building huts, and then—

Oh. He had died.

“You—”

“Died, yes. Smallpox. That's new,” United States said, lifting himself up as he rubbed at his head.

“You seem…unsurprised,” the doctor said. United States smiled.

“God allows me to stay on Earth so long as I have a country to serve, no matter how damaged my mortal body may be. You need not fret when I am dead. I will return, for the revolution, for all those who fight for me,” United States said. The doctor nodded, still looking disturbed.

“I…I must go. I have other patients to attend to,” he said. United States smiled and nodded, and the doctor rushed away. 

United States then pulled his legs off the bed and began running himself through his post-death exercises. 

He hated dying.

• ───────────────── •

January 10, 1778

United States paced as he prepared to bring himself to the prisoner of war camp where Nova Scotia and St John’s Island were being kept, so anxious about seeing them after…after many years.

God, it really had been a long time since he had seen them. Eight-odd years flew by. 

What if they hated him?

“You can’t avoid them because of what-ifs. You should visit them. They’re still family, and they might get more mad if you ignore them,” Virginia pointed out. United States sighed and nodded, knowing she was right.

He exhaled, bringing himself to the entrance of the prisoner-of-war camp. 

“United States!” the guard exclaimed, looking shocked to see him there. United States smiled.

“Hello, sir. I am here to visit my cousin, Nova Scotia, and her son, St. John’s Island. Where are they?” he asked. The guard looked around nervously before nodding.

“Of course, sir, right away,” he said, letting United States in. “They should be in the middle of the camp.”

United States nodded and thanked the man, walking into the camp. He was wearing his military uniform and drew the attention of many of the prisoners as he did so, hearing them whisper among each other as he walked by.

“Do you think they might attack us?” Rhode Island asked.

“They better not. They’re prisoners. They would only get in more trouble if they did that,” Massachusetts said. That didn’t stop United States from keeping his guard up, eyes scanning the British prisoners for familiar faces.

Finally, he spotted them and stopped as his nervousness returned. 

“It’ll be okay,” Virginia said. United States exhaled, calming his nerves, before he raised his voice, calling over to the two countryhumans.

“Nova Scotia! St. John!” The countryhumans, who had been conversing, ended their conversation as they looked in his direction. Nova Scotia gasped as she saw him, hand flying to her mouth, as St John’s Island scowled and began kicking at the dirt.

“Thirteen?” she asked, her voice gentle as she walked towards him. United States nodded.

“Technically, United States now,” he replied, “Shall we go somewhere without an audience?”

There were many prisoners watching them, and United States didn’t feel comfortable talking with the crowd watching them.

“Of course,” Nova Scotia said, smiling as she took a step backward, leading United States to her small hut, St John’s Island following them into it.

“I missed her,” Massachusetts said. United States agreed. He had missed her.

Nova Scotia turned to face him, putting a hand to his cheek, rubbing her thumb gently across it. United States couldn’t help but lean into the touch. He had missed her so much.

“Smallpox?” she asked, her voice gentle. United States nodded.

“I died,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. Nova Scotia sighed.

“I’m sure you don’t want to hear it,” she began, “So I’m not going to bring it up. I’m sorry. But…Edward, do you have a way to get us out of this camp?”

“They won’t let you leave. Not when it’s such an advantage over Father. I’m sorry,” United States said, guilt in his voice as he pulled away from her touch. He wanted to help his cousin, but with the war…there was no way he could.

“I figured as much. It’s okay,” Nova Scotia said, smiling slightly. St. John’s Island scoffed.

“They make us pay for our own food, our own fuel, for upkeep of these cabins!” he said. United States frowned.

“That’s horrible,” Virginia said, “Father, at the very least, you can foot the bill. You have no need for money.”

“I can pay that. I want to ensure that despite you both being prisoners, you will be treated well. I don’t know if, because you are still colonies, that some angry men might take out their anger on you,” United States said, letting his gaze linger on Nova Scotia, “But if anything like that happens, write to me, and tell me, and I will see them punished. I will try to visit often when I can, as well.”

“Thank you, Edward,” Nova Scotia said, looking grateful. Even St. John’s Island looked less angry.

“Johnathan,” United States corrected. “Don’t tell Father or Uncle Alba, please.”

Nova Scotia let out a little laugh. 

“I won’t. Thank you for still trusting me.”

“Thank you for still trusting me,” United States said, pulling his cousin into a hug. Nova Scotia pulled away from the hug, looking as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. For a few moments, they sat in a comfortable silence that was broken by Nova Scotia’s teasing voice.

“I met your son.”

“Son?” United States asked, a slight trace of panic in his voice. Did she know about his states? Did she somehow find out? Did Father know? Did the British know? Oh, God, did all of Europe think he was insane?

“How could she have found out?” Rhode Island asked, sounding both panicked and confused.

“The new country, Vermont,” she said. United States relaxed. His secret was safe. And Vermont…the new child that he had heard about but never met…he wanted to know more.

“You have? What is he like?” he asked. Nova Scotia smiled.

“He’s a lot like you. Was fighting for your cause as well,” she answered before going to a small chest and grabbing a letter from it. “He gave me this letter to give to you. To introduce himself.”

United States took the letter gently as if it were made of glass, smiling at his cousin.

“Thank you,” he said, tucking the letter into his uniform to read later.

As of right now, he was with his cousin and her son. 

[weirdestbooks]

Wrong Reflection Chapter 12

What's Truly Trusted (Wattpad | Ao3)

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With no solution to be found as quickly as Alfred would have liked, Alfred, Matthew, and Sam headed back to Alfred’s place to give the British Isles some space. There was also the issue of Alfred’s government being very eager for Alfred to get back and do his work, and with the World Meeting the day before, Alfred was practically ordered back into his country. 

Sam had said he was okay with it, and Arthur and his brothers agreed to keep working towards finding a solution, but Alfred was still stressed about it all.

When they had arrived back in their country, Alfred watched as Sam visibly relaxed, a tenseness that Alfred had never noticed before fading. Sam must have been grateful to be back on American soil. Or he didn’t like being on planes and was just glad to be on solid ground.

Alfred had decided to take Matthew and Sam back to his house in Virginia, deciding that it might help Sam to relax if he wasn’t cooped up in a city. Alfred wasn’t great at reading the room, but you would have to be blind not to notice how stressed Sam was getting.

When they arrived and Alfred got Sam situated in a room, Alfred went down to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. Predictably, there wasn’t, and Alfred sighed as he prepared to go out to the grocery store to buy things.

“Where you heading?” he heard Sam ask from behind him.

“The grocery store. Need to stock the house with food. You interested in coming with me?” Alfred asked. Sam shrugged, walking into the kitchen.

“Sure,” he said, “I need something to do to prevent my mind from wandering.”

He didn’t specify what his mind kept wandering to, but Alfred thought he knew. It was the same thing they had both been stressed out about for the past month. 

“Great,” Alfred said, his voice cheery, “Want to grab anything before we go?”

“Nah, we’re fine,” Sam said, a small smile making its way across his lips. Alfred nodded, grabbing his keys off the table before walking out to the car, Sam following.

“So, what did you think of the others?” Alfred asked, thinking back to the world meeting. While not as disastrous as others, the things that Sam revealed about his world…they were very different. Alfred had been trying not to think about some of those differences. 

It was the quickest they had ever ended a meeting, and there were very clearly no plans to have anything anytime soon. Alfred had texted Gilbert a few times, asking if he was okay. Gilbert insisted he was, but Alfred didn’t really believe it.

He hoped Gilbert would be okay.

“Strange, but no stranger than mine, I suppose,” Sam said. He didn’t bring up his Prussia or Gilbert. Alfred was glad. He didn’t want to think about that more than he needed to.

“Meaning?” Alfred asked, entering the car and starting it up as Sam followed him inside.

“They’re old,” Sam said with a wry smile. “I’m used to being on the older scale in my world. Strange to think here I would have been on the younger end of things.”

“I guess that explains the difference in our physical ages,” Alfred pointed out. Sam laughed.

“It does,” he said before his eyes started to grow distant. Recognizing the signs of Sam beginning to dissociate (as he often did), Alfred stopped talking and began to focus on driving, keeping an eye on Sam’s distant face as he did so. 

After a few minutes of driving, Sam began blinking again, coming back to himself. 

“Hey, Sam. You good?” Alfred asked. He didn’t think that Sam had started to dissociate because of a trigger, but it was better to check in regardless. 

“Yeah…fine,” Sam said, his voice having taken on a newer tone. Alfred frowned.

“Am I talking to Sam?” he asked hesitantly. He didn’t want to offend anyone, but…it didn’t really sound like Sam, and a quick look in their direction revealed that the body language was different. 

“No. You aren’t,” the person answered.

“Have we met before?” Alfred asked, praying that he wasn’t fucking things up.

“We haven’t. My name is Lydia, she/her. It’s nice to meet you, Alfred,” Lydia said, smiling.

Oh. It was a girl. Alfred didn’t know how to respond, too afraid he would put his foot in his mouth, too afraid that he would ask the wrong thing and accidentally offend her.

“Nice to meet you, too. Is…is Sam okay?” Alfred asked, glad he didn’t put his foot in his mouth and asked a reasonable question.

“Oh, they’re fine. They were just a bit eager to interrogate you about some of your landspirits, but James thought that it wasn’t best to do that in public since you keep yourself secrets. Since Sam doesn’t think he’ll stop himself from asking questions, I have volunteered to front. Plus, after Sam, I’m the best cook, so he trusts me to pick the ingredients for meals we both like to make,” Lydia said, somehow making Sam’s voice sound soft and light.

“Thanks,” Alfred said, pulling into the parking lot, “So, you and Sam like to cook?”

Lydia laughed, “Oh, I do. Sam learned more out of necessity, but it helps calm him down, although he refuses to experiment while cooking like I do. Sam’s true hobby is pottery. It helps ground him and helps when he starts to dissociate.”

“Pottery?” Alfred asked surprise in his voice. Out of all the hobbies he expected from his counterpart, pottery was not one of them. 

“Since…oh, before I was around, he was interested in it, but it was really Reconstruction when he started to truly become a potter,” Lydia explained.

“Before you were around?” Alfred asked, confusion in his voice as he caught the peculiar way Lydia had worded that.

“The civil war put a lot of stress on the system. I was one of the alters that came out of that. Please, don’t ask more about it. It’s…it was a hard time for us all,” Lydia said. Alfred nodded, pushing aside his own memories of his civil war.

“Trust me, Lydia, I know that well. Glad to have met you. Since you have more of an idea of what to get than me, would you like to take point?” Alfred asked, changing the topic and gesturing to the store. Lydia smiled.

“I would love to,” she said before leaving the car, Alfred following. “You’re a good man, Alfred. Sam likes you a lot. He…cares, and he might show that in weird ways, but don’t let him pull anything on you because of that.”

“What does that mean?” Alfred asked, concerned.

“Sam has hurt others, accidentally, of course, in an attempt to…prove, I guess? Demonstrate, at the least. Demonstrate that he loves them and wants them to be okay. However, he has become more… self-destructive with that in recent years. Just…don’t let him lie to you when he’s not doing okay. He needs to learn that people outside of us can help him,” Lydia said.

Alfred frowned at that, worried over what made Lydia worry over that, but nodded.

“I’ll try my best.” Lydia smiled.

“That’s all I ask.”

[weirdestbooks]

Secrecy and Deception Chapter 27

The Berlin Wall (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Event: Berlin Border is Closed

Location: Berlin

Date: August 13, 1961

Allied Control Council didn’t spend much of her time at her home in Berlin. It felt…hostile at times, with the USSR’s attitude towards her and viewing her as a tool of Western power since she preferred to spend her time in West Germany’s land. 

She knew she was most likely being spied on, which made everyday life uncomfortable. With her out of her house so often, she knew her phone must have been tapped, and an equal number of things put in her hours, if not to monitor her, but to monitor her father. 

Her house in Berlin made a perfect place for her and her father to spend time with each other, especially when he brought over her younger brothers, Cottbus and Frankfurt, and she knew that those actions had to infuriate the USSR.

Still, they did it anyway. 

ACC had always found it funny how much it seemed to upset USSR. If anything, she figured he would be okay with it and would use it as an opportunity to sway ACC to his side. Or maybe, with her other dad being the United States, he wrote her off as a lost cause and a threat to his control.

ACC didn’t care either way. USSR wasn’t in charge of East Germany, no matter the power he held over the personification.

He didn’t decide who her Father and brothers were allowed to spend time with.

While she and her father tried to meet once a month, due to how difficult it was for ACC to travel with her wheelchair, her brothers did not visit as often, which is why she was glad that they would be visiting today. ACC had planned out a whole itinerary for the day and was so excited.

But as she wheeled closer to the border, she realized something was off. There were people standing by it, nervous murmurs filling the air. ACC rolled closer, trying her best to see through the crowd.

Then, she saw it. A barbed wire fence that wasn’t there the day before blocked the border between the eastern and western halves of Berlin.

ACC felt a bit sink into her stomach, thinking about what her father had told her during his last visit.

“The government—not the USSR’s but ours—is upset that I am letting you spend time with your brothers. They have become…strange about my visits.”

Was this the work of the East German government? It had to be, as the entire thing reeked of their influence. 

“Do you know if travel is allowed between the two halves?” ACC asked, turning to the man beside her.

“It isn’t,” he said, shaking his head, seemingly captivated by the sight before him. “Why do you ask?”

“My brothers and father are on that side of the border. We were supposed to spend the day together,” ACC said, her voice weakening. Surely this wouldn’t last forever. What…this couldn’t work…whatever they had planned had to fail.

“I’m so sorry,” the man said. ACC nodded in agreement.

“Me too,” she said, still clinging to the hope that this would be over by the end of the year. The East German government liked making threats. Surely, this had to be another one meant to intimidate the Western powers into doing…something.

It wouldn’t remain. It couldn’t.

Looking back at the barbed wire fence, ACC hoped her father and brothers were okay. She hoped they weren’t in any trouble for their prior visits.

She would never stop feeling guilty if they were.

• ───────────────── •

Event: Construction of the Berlin Wall begins 

Location: Berlin, German Democratic Republic

Date: August 17, 1961

Bezirk Potsdam, formerly known as the State of Brandenburg, watched as the first blocks of the wall were put into place. He watched, despite knowing it wouldn’t help the mistrust that the government held towards him, knowing that it would only further their theory that he was more loyal to the West than to them.

Potsdam didn’t care. The construction of the wall captivated him; the implications of a symbol that was meant to be so permanent, a wall that kept him from his fragile child.

“Dad, can we go home now?” his newborn daughter, only physically six years old, Berlin, asked, rubbing at her eye as she looked up at him. Potsdam squeezed her hand gently.

“In a moment,” he said. Berlin had been born the same day construction on the wall began. It felt like a mocking gesture, keeping Potsdam from one daughter and giving him a new one all on the same day. It felt as if his government was trying to create a child to keep Potsdam in East Berlin. 

Potsdam knew how to be a father, but…he didn’t feel much of that connection with Berlin. He knew it wasn’t fair to her, but…he couldn’t force it. She was born at a time when Potsdam had just discovered that it was now basically illegal for him to talk to his eldest (living) daughter. 

How was he supposed to raise a child that had literally been given to him by soldiers from the government?

Potsdam pushed the thought of Berlin from his mind, not wanting to think about the empty act he felt he had been doing for the past four days.

Potsdam hoped ACC was okay.

“Potsdam!” he then heard Germany snap from behind him. Potsdam turned around to face her as Berlin waved up at her country.

“Hello, Germany. Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Yes,” Germany hissed, her voice dropping to a whisper, “If you keep hanging out around this wall, you’re going to get in trouble.”

“I was only watching,” Potsdam replied.

“That doesn’t matter! You have Berlin to worry about. Stop thinking about that cripple and do your job!” Germany snapped. Potsdam knew she was scared, but that didn’t stop the anger that welled up with those words.

But he could feel his bond with Germany tightening around him, her fear stretching past her emotions, and Potsdam bit down his anger. Now wasn’t the time or place to get into an argument with Germany. Potsdam bit down all the words he wanted to say, leaning down to pick up Berlin. He didn’t hold her with any closeness, feeling numb and empty. 

The child of the wall leaned against Potsdam as they walked back to the house that had been assigned as Potsdam’s new home.

Potsdam wanted to cry, feeling so overwhelmed by emotion. 

He tried his best to bite down the tears.

“I’m sorry, Potsdam. I just want you all to be safe,” Germany said as they parted ways. Potsdam nodded.

“I know you do.”

That didn’t mean any of it hurt any less. 

Potsdam walked inside, setting Berlin down, and walked over to the couch, needing a break, needing a second to collect himself before he fell apart.

“Daddy? What did Germany mean?” Berlin asked, her voice taking on the small tone a child did when they were confused and didn’t understand how the world worked.

“She’s just worried we might get in trouble if we’re too close to the construction of the Anti-Fascist Protection Rampart,” Potsdam said, knowing it was better to use the government’s term for the wall. They had given him this house, so Potsdam never felt safe in it. 

“No, about the cripple. Who’s that?” Berlin asked. Potsdam felt his heart stop before he exhaled slowly, picking his words carefully.

“I…there is an organization spirit in the other part of Berlin. She was made in Potsdam, so I worry about her sometimes. But since she had sided with the West, Germany thinks I shouldn’t worry so much since she isn’t on our side,” Potsdam said, wiping his face as he felt a tear slide down it.

He couldn’t cry. Not about that.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Berlin said, having noticed the tears, steeping closer and hugging Potsdam.

“It’s okay. The wall…is for the best. I just have to give my emotions time to realize that,” Potsdam said.

He felt terrible about lying to her, but she would have an easier time in life if she didn’t have to carry the burdens Potsdam did. Germany suffered enough due to her government’s scrutiny. 

No matter how he felt, Potsdam couldn’t let Berlin be treated the same way.

• ───────────────── •

Event: US Tanks arrive at the border of Checkpoint Charlie and standoff with Soviet tanks

Location: near Checkpoint Charlie, Berlin, German Democratic Republic 

Date: October 27, 1961

For a child born of a political maneuver like the Berlin Wall, Berlin herself was far too kind, full of a childhood innocence and trust. Potsdam had learned that over the months they had spent together, as Potsdam did his best to adjust to his role as Berlin’s father.

It was still hard, but it had become easier. 

Frankfurt and Cottbus tried their best to adjust and be good older brothers, but ACC’s absence and the reason for it still weighed over them all. At least the government had been happier with them, saying that Berlin helped them learn how wonderful their country really was and all sorts of nonsense that Potsdam ignored.

It was all empty words. It never meant anything in the end.

The wall wasn’t done causing problems either, with the standoff between Soviet and American tanks that had just begun at Checkpoint Charlie. Potsdam didn’t know what that meant; if it would be the start of another war, it would be another chance for him to have everything ripped away from him.

Potsdam blamed Ulbricht, if war began. The man could have found another solution to whatever prompted him to put up the wall. If war broke out because of it, then it was on him.

Potsdam hoped that ACC had gone back to Bonn. She didn’t need to be here for this. 

The government seemed concerned about it and had sent Germany to Berlin’s house to keep her safe, they said. 

Then a few minutes had passed by, and Kursk Oblast arrived, and Potsdam knew that this was a ruse to keep an eye on them during the standoff.

Berlin seemed confused, but she was doing her best to try to cheer everyone up. No one had the heart to tell her what was going on.

“She’s very…childish, for one so young,” Kursk Oblast had commented to Potsdam as Germany entertained her capital.

“She deserves to be a child. She was born of the wall,” Potsdam had answered. Kursk Oblast had agreed, and despite his…dislike of the Russian, Potsdam knew he was just as worried as the rest of them.

And as much as he blamed the West being power-hungry as the reason for the standoff, Potsdam knew it was the wall. 

Everything that had gone wrong in his life since August had been because of that wall.

Potsdam wished things could go back to the way they used to be. 

He knew it was impossible, but it didn’t stop him from hoping.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 8

Shocked (Wattpad | Ao3)

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This was officially one of the most confusing and infuriating days of Canada’s life.

America’s states were alive, personified, and that had been since before he had become a country. America lied to Canada, multiple times, to his face, about Vermont and Michigan. America let Canada think his children were dead. America let Canada grieve and mourn, all while keeping Canada’s children under his thumb. 

Canada wanted to know why. More than just the vague references that James and America made to Britain, more than just the idea of ‘they weren’t safe if people knew about them.’

It sounded like bullshit.

Controlling bullshit.

Canada knew that well.

But so many people knew. So many of Canada’s siblings, his niblings, his family knew and still kept him in the dark.

It…it hurt. Canada had never kept his love and grief for Michigan and Vermont a secret, and that fact that much of his family was knowingly keeping him in the dark about their survival? It hurt.

It hurt so badly. 

Why were they allowed to know when Canada wasn’t? Why wouldn’t anyone tell him about it?

Canada just wanted answers, but it seemed like the answer to why America never told anyone about his children was something James didn’t want to tell. Not the whole truth, at least.

“The states didn’t want anyone to know. It might come as a surprise to some of you, but the states have had bad experiences because of countries and just preferred keeping it secret, and even the ones that didn’t were pretty willing to keep their mouths shut for their siblings.” James said, dark eyes glancing towards Canada. Not Britain, but Canada, as if he had hurt his children or any of America’s children.

Canada scowled, fingernails digging into the table in front of him as he tried to bite down an angry growl.

“So it wasn’t your choice to keep it secret?” Saudi Arabia asked. 

“Oh no, I wanted to keep it a secret,” James said. “I was one of the biggest supporters of it. Between Britain, Canada, the Cold War, the World Wars, and a bunch of other shit involving some of the biological parents of the states and territories America adopted.” 

Canada bit down his growing rage, trying to prevent himself from making a fool of himself in front of the entire UN. He would get his meeting with his sons, but that was a matter best discussed in private unless America or James or any of the others tried to keep Canada from his children.

“Aren’t you close with Canada and Britain?” Bosnia and Herzegovina asked. Canada let out a small huff of amusement at that. Maybe they were “close” now, but America had betrayed them before, and James saw them as horrible people.

“That’s a recent development,” Père said.

“We have fought wars with Britain and Canada, and due to our history…they get personal. As Texas said, we are on good political terms, not personal ones,” James said, his voice even. “Even though we are allies, we have a pretty shitty history together, and it’s hard to forget about what has happened between us. None of us want to see the states get hurt.” 

Canada sighed. That was as good a reason as any. He loved his father, he did, but…he could understand the fear, even if it only came from America being a spoiled brat about taxes in the first place.

Canada could still see himself doing the same thing if his provinces had been under threat from other countries close to him. It was hard to have complete trust in other countries. Sometimes, it was hard to have trust in your own provinces.

“You said another reason was the biological parents of the states and territories. Which states, and who?” Nepal asked.

“I hope none of them are Dad’s kids,” Barbados said.

“Well, no matter what Britain will claim, the State of Hawaiʻi is not Britain’s daughter, adopted or otherwise, so let’s dispel that rumor now,” James said, causing Canada to roll his eyes. Was Hawaiʻi really still insisting she wasn’t his sister?

“So, she’s America’s then?” Barbados asked. France laughed.

“Of course not. The territory was the kingdom, so she is of her own lineage, right?” France asked. James nodded.

“Hawaiʻi is not America’s daughter either, adopted or otherwise. She’s…her relationship is complicated, especially with the colonization of her land. But she is a state regardless,” James said. 

“Can we not talk about this and go back to talking about America's adopted kids?” Père said, his voice hard, most likely due to his anger over Hawaiʻi’s refusal to recognize that he was her father.

“I would like that. One of them is related to Denmark, right? The Virgin Islands?” Norway asked. James nodded as someone let out a small noise of amusement.

“Yes! America’s adopted kids. I guess we’ll start with Vee since you brought her up. She’s Denmark-Norway and French Kingdom’s daughter.”

Of course, it was French Kingdom. The only other option was one of Spanish Empire’s children. Because if it’s in the Americas, and it’s not Père, it’s one of those guys who’s the parent.

“So she’s my sister?” France asked. James shrugged.

“She feels no connection to you or French Kingdom. Now Louisiana, on the other hand, is way more French, and is also the child of the French Kingdom, and was adopted by New Spain when they became a Spanish territory before briefly being owned by France and then being sold to us.” James explained. 

Canada startled at Louisiana. He hadn’t even thought of her, his last biological sister, in years. He…he felt like an awful brother for a few minutes before pushing aside the guilt and replacing it with anger toward America. 

If America had just told them about the states, Canada could have reunited with his biological sister sooner.

“I thought she died,” France said, her voice sounding sad. 

“Louisiana said you wanted them too,” James responded. France didn’t respond, leading to an awkward silence that was broken by United Nations.

“Maybe…maybe you should continue, James.” United Nations said. James nodded.

“Right. So next, we have the Spanish ones—Florida, who’s New Spain’s son. Then you have Puerto Rico, who is Spanish Empire’s son. There’s California, who’s Mexico’s kid,” James continued before being cut off by Mexico.

“What? I don’t…I…I don’t have a kid named California…aside from Baja California and Baja California Sur. But not your California!” Mexico said, seemingly caught off guard by that. 

“California is your child. They were their own republic briefly during the Mexican-American War and originated your land. They became the Mexican Cession before becoming the State of California. They are your child.” James explained. Mexico looked stunned.

“¡Dios mío!” Mexico said, running her hand through her hair.

“Sorry about dropping that on you.” James said awkwardly, “I thought you knew. Do you want me to continue?”

Mexico nodded and went to sit down in her seat, rubbing at her forehead with a hand.

“The last state America adopted was Alaska. He’s uh, he’s Russian Empire’s son. He was Russian America. I think some of you had met him before when he was Russian Empire’s colony.” James said. Père nodded. 

“Russian Empire?” Finland asked. James nodded.

“Yeah. Russian Empire.” James said, raising an eyebrow in Finland’s direction. 

“Is that all?” Seychelles asked. James nodded. Canada exhaled, thinking over what they had just been told. 

America’s states were personified, and he claimed to have kept them secret because of their own wishes and prior experiences some of them had with other nations.

But how much of that was true? And how much of it was just a ruse to allow America control over his states, to keep away the adopted ones away from any other family.

Canada didn’t know, but he wanted to find out.

And who the hell was Alabama’s son?

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 7

Realization (Wattpad | Ao3)

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“I can’t believe how stupid I am,” Fiji said, louder than she meant to, as several countries turned to look at her.

“What does that mean Fiji?” El Salvador asked. 

“It means I knew about America’s territories; obviously, anyone who didn’t is an idiot, but I’m just realizing how many times they probably mentioned the states without me realizing,” Fiji explained. She had met them. They had helped her move her son into Hawaiʻi’s house in The Land Inbetween, promising to care for him like one of their own.

Had one of those territories been a state, and she just hadn’t realized it, so convinced they weren’t personified that it must have been a territory?

“Well, now I feel like an idiot, too,” Zimbabwe said.

“Wait, how many of you knew about the American territories?” Slovenia asked.

“Anyone who knows territories are personified, which should be all of you.” South Korea said. Chile groaned.

“Chile’s realizing he’s an idiot, isn't he?” Belize said. Colombia let out an amused snort.

“He’s always been an idiot,” Colombia said.

“How did you not know about America’s territories? How many of you didn’t realize America’s territories were personified?” Laos asked. Many countries raised their hands, mainly from Europe or countries that had been born in the 21st century.

That made sense. Those guys were much younger and probably didn’t even realize America had territories. Most countries with territories were colonial powers, and many countries seemed to have forgotten or didn’t even know that America had been a colonial power himself.

Well, they knew he was an empire, but there were many empires that didn’t go the route of having kids with every personification they came across. 

“I didn’t even realize America had territories,” Czechia said, trying to defend herself. Fiji smiled, happy that her prediction as to why some countries didn’t realize America’s territories were personified was correct.

“Don’t worry, neither do half of America’s people. If I have to see the new say ‘Puerto Rican immigrants’ one more time, I’m going to….going to…I don’t know exactly want I’ll do, but I will be fucking pissed.” James said.

“Do your people not know you have territories? Mozambique asked. James sighed.

“Some of them. It’s very annoying,” James said, looking exasperated.

“WAIT DANISH WEST INDIES IS ALIVE?” Denmark exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table. James sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Yes, Denmark, she is.” he deadpanned. Fiji had never heard him sound so done before. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Denmark accused.

“I thought you knew! You had colonies Denmark—you still do! I thought you would have realized that she survived when your colony became America’s! No one ever even lied or said she had died!” James argued back. Denmark sputtered, probably trying to come up with a counterargument.

Fiji sighed. This family had too much drama. It was annoying, but at least she got free entertainment out of it.

“Also, her name is Virgin Islands of the United States. Most people call her the US Virgin Islands or the American Virgin Islands. You can just call her Vee, though, unless you want to be like United Nations and torture yourself by saying everyone’s incredibly long names.” James said, smiling softly, “She does still talk about you.” 

“Virgin Islands?” Chile asked amusement in his voice. 

“It was your ancestors who gave her and British Virgin Islands that name.” James protested, looking annoyed.

“That’s because no one ever wanted to have sex with Spanish Empire,” Belgium said loudly, causing snickers to break out across the room.

“Virgin Bitch!” Someone called, although Fiji couldn’t tell who. Probably a descent of one of his colonies. They never hesitated to drag his name through the mud, even if it was allegedly New Spain that was worse.

“Well, I hate my ancestors,” Chile said, moving on from that conversation.

“Don’t worry, we all do,” France said, causing a round of snickers.

“So does Vee. But at least her islands aren’t called ‘Santa Úrsula y las Once Mil Vírgenes’ anymore. Because that name is much worse.” James said.

“Eleven thousand….what the fuck was wrong with Spanish Empire?” Paraguay asked. James shrugged.

“You’re asking the wrong person there,” he responded. “I don’t understand you countrypeople.”

Paraguay groaned, putting his head on the table. 

“What do you mean eleven thousand?” Nigeria asked.

“‘Santa Úrsula y las Once Mil Vírgenes means Saint Ursula and the eleven thousand virgins,” James answered.

“You know Spanish?” Spain asked. James looked offended at that.

“Of course, I know Spanish. A large portion of America’s population speaks Spanish, so I thought it was best to learn. Besides, America doesn’t even have an official language, so I don’t know why everyone gets so worked up over that,” James said, sounding more annoyed than before.

America didn’t have an official language? Fiji wondered how he handled that. Australia had told her several stories about how not having an official language has messed him up when he’s trying to do something. Fiji had never seen America give much of an indication that he could speak any languages other than English and French. 

Of course, they weren’t close, so she could have missed any signs.

“I thought English was America’s official language?” Britain asked.

“It’s not!” James said, throwing his hands in the air, “Why does everyone always think America’s official language is English?!”

“Because you only speak English, Uncle James,” Marshall Islands said, causing James to flip him off.

“That’s because everyone speaks English! It’s the Lingua franca!” James protested. 

“Yeah, it’s not America’s fault a lot of the system only speaks English,” Ireland added. 

“You said that the states also had a role in you keeping everything secret. Can you explain how that worked?” Canada asked, interrupting the conversation. His voice was pleasant and nice, but Fiji had known her brother for long enough to see the other emotions that lurked in his eyes.

Anger. Betrayal. Sadness. 

Fiji hated family drama. But she had a feeling this was going to turn into one of the biggest family conflicts since Father almost beat her son to death. 

Fiji sighed and began to mentally prepare herself for the storm that was about to come.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 6

Governments are Complicated (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Vietnam hadn’t expected any of this chaos to come out of the morning’s meeting. She knew America was a secretive man, one that preferred to keep his cards close to his chest, and she definitely felt a little bit foolish for not having realized the existence of his states sooner. Still, she didn’t understand why some people, namely Britain and Canada, were making such a big deal out of it.

“I thought your territories died when they achieved statehood,” Canada began, some sort of… desperate hope in his voice, “But if your states are alive, does that mean they all just became states?”

“Yes, it does,” James said, and Canada’s face lit up, causing James’ face to harden. “That doesn’t mean that either of them want to or are going to speak to you. Unsurprisingly, they’ve been some of the biggest supporters in not letting you two find out.”

Canada looked angry as if he were about to argue, but Britain spoke before he could say anything.

“Well, I would still like to talk about this in the future. I want to meet my grandchildren,” Britain said, something kinder in his voice. The grin James gave him was absolutely feral, amusement glittering in his eyes.

“Who says you haven't?” he asked, teasing, dangerous. Vietnam knew he was meant to be human, but something about his body and his demeanor made him feel like he was more than that.

“I know I have met Vermont and Mic—”

“You’ve met more than them,” James said, lightly tapping the side of his head. “Although I would forgive you for not realizing, we were trying to keep it under wraps.”

Vietnam’s eyes widened at the implications. 

“Are you saying that your states are alters?” Spain asked. James hummed before shaking his head.

“No, not anymore. When we were a colony, the original thirteen colonies were alters, but they gained their own bodies upon statehood. It’s followed a similar pattern since then. Territories that were not purchased from other nations remain alters until they become states,” James explained. 

“How does that work?” Spain asked. James shrugged. 

“We don’t know. We think…we think it has something to do with how complicated colony personifications were back when America was born…but it’s not a subject that we know the why for, only the how,” James explained.

“So I met them when you were my colony?” Britain asked. James scowled but nodded.

“You did. You also hurt them like you hurt America, so don’t expect them to be friendly with you,” he said. Britain seemed upset by the statement but nodded anyway.

“Did you know—did America know about them when he was my colony?” Britain asked. James shook his head.

“No. He didn't find out until his revolution,” James said before pausing, “Actually, that’s a bit of a lie. He knew about myself and Virginia back when he was a young, young colony, but you used martial law to wipe him clean of that.”

Vietnam winced slightly at that. She knew how….traumatizing marital law could be for someone. That sounded awful. Britain seemed upset by it at least, flinching away slightly and bowing his head.

“I see. I am sorry about that,” Britain said. James' eyes narrowed, and he looked as if he didn’t believe Britain at all. 

“I’m sure you are,” James drawled, his tone sarcastic and annoyed.

“If your original thirteen colonies gained bodies when they became states, does that mean they fought in your war of independence?” Jamaica asked, “Because I don’t remember hearing any reports of them on the battlefield unless you hid them in human form, that is.”

“Oh, no, they didn’t gain their bodies until the late 1780s. We didn’t have a government when we declared independence—” James was cut off by a chorus of groans from several of Britain’s former colonies and Britain himself. 

“James, please don’t tell me that America decided to fight for his independence without a government,” Ireland said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, we had the Continental Congress…..which had almost no power….and was useless…but the Congress of the Confederation wasn’t much better….” James said, trailing off before sighing, “Yeah, we declared independence without a set government or plan of what was going to happen once we were independent.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Canada muttered.

“So, you got your government after the peace treaty?” Jamaica asked. James shook his head.

“No, we had our first government in 1781, the Articles of Confederation, but that ended up being too weak to properly unite the country and keep the state governments from doing fuck all, so it ended up getting replaced in 1787 by our current Constitution. Then, on December 7th of that year, Delaware became the first state to receive a body, hence why he is the first state without being the oldest,” James explained.

“Well, thank god you had some sort of government when you signed that peace treaty,” Ireland said, looking both annoyed and perturbed. 

“Any other questions?” James then asked. 

“If your territories were alters, then how did a territory Michigan end up in my care?” Canada asked.

“One, he didn’t end up in your care. You kidnapped him,” James began, looking annoyed. “Two, something about Hull surrendering the territory forced him into a body. We didn’t realize it at first, just cause, as a system, it’s hard to keep track of everyone, but when we got the letter about Michigan being captured….well, we realized what had happened. None of us knew that could happen.”

“Is that why he looked…so young?” Canada asked. James nodded.

“Whenever the states got their body, no matter how old they were beforehand, they always looked the physical age of a newborn subdivision. They caught up to their real ages quickly enough. Instead of becoming fourteen, Delly became nineteen, and so on,” James explained.

“That’s…strange,” Norway said. James shrugged.

“If I know anything about countrypeople, it’s that DID can have strange effects on things,” James said, before sighing, “But to be honest, we don’t want to talk about how our DID has affected things because we don’t know the answers to those questions. We’re just as in the dark about it as the rest of you.”

“I see,” Canada said. “Thank you.”

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 5

America Has More Kids? (Wattpad | Ao3)

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United Nations walked back into the room after they left to see what the noise coming from outside of the room was. They were followed by Mexico and someone who looked like Chile, except his flag had more blue.

The man Luxembourg didn’t know seemed upset and nervous. His arms were crossed, and he had a scowl on his face, but his eyes flickered around nervously until they stopped, staring at something behind Luxembourg. Luxembourg turned to see the man looking at America, who had a blank face but anger in his eyes. 

America only did that when he was trying to hide his feelings, but was obviously failing based on the anger in his eyes. America must know who that is. Britain, too, as Britain had a shocked look on his face. Those two knew something. That much was clear. 

Luxembourg turned back to the man. 

“Mexico, who's that?” Madagascar asked from beside Luxembourg, leaning forward like she was trying to get a better look at the man.

“The Republic of Texas. A country that was supposed to have died over a century ago.” Mexico responded. The room went quiet, the quietest Luxembourg had ever heard it. It was clear that everyone was having trouble processing that a dead country was in front of them. Dead countries weren’t supposed to come back!

Did this mean other dead countries could come back? Luxembourg hoped not. There were many countries that should be gone from the world permanently. Maybe this was just a one-time thing. Hopefully, it was a one-time thing.

“How?” Belgium asked. Texas’ scowl deepened, and he looked away like he was trying to avoid making eye contact with everyone. His body language betrayed nervousness, and Texas looked ready to bolt.

“Texas, you got annexed willingly, but you were annexed. Very few survive that, and the ones that do only survive because they have governments or active uprisings. You have neither.” France said calmly. 

Texas’s body posture changed suddenly as she said that. He looked up, staring straight at France, and he looked furious. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Something was keeping him from speaking. Was it the nervousness he displayed before?

“I’m confused. Can someone explain who he is and why he should be dead?” Serbia asked.

“Texas was a nation between Mexico and America—” Netherlands began before he was cut off.

“I won my independence from Mexico. Due to debt problems, and finally convincin’ D—America too, I was annexed into the United States.” Texas said, speaking up for the first time. So that’s why he and America knew each other. Luxembourg and many other nations looked towards America, who still kept his face blank.

“United, did you know Texas was alive? Did you know my son was alive?” Mexico asked. 

“No. I didn’t.” America said, crossing his arms. Luxembourg wasn’t sure if America was lying or not, but something about the anger in his eyes made Luxembourg think he was.

“He doesn’t know anything,” Texas said. 

“Then why are you alive?” Tanzania asked. 

“I have the right to remain silent,” Texas said.

“That’s an American phrase.” Canada pointed out. 

Texas groaned, muttering something, although he was too far away to hear it. 

Texas then said something that sounded like German, but it was weird. He seemed to be speaking an old dialect, but it wasn’t an old dialect. It was a dialect that Luxembourg had never heard before. He looked for other nations that spoke German, and they seemed confused as well, as if no one could place the dialect he was speaking in.

Luxembourg then realized he probably should have been paying attention to what Texas had said, but in his defense, it was a weird dialect.

“What kind of German dialect was that?” Austria asked confusion in her voice.

“Texas German,” America said, pulling attention back to himself. 

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Texas said, his posture relaxing. “Hi, I’m the State of Texas. Also, America is my dad, and the other US states are personified.”

"What?" Luxembourg said, turning to America.

Everyone began talking at once, seemingly in a state of shock over the announcement. America, of all countries, was a dad. Well, Luxembourg knew he was a dad, but organizations were one thing, and America had never had enough colones for it to mean much to Luxembourg.

America walked over to Texas and stood next to him.

“Alright, alright, alright. Everyone shut up. I can’t explain shit if I can’t speak.” America said. The commotion in the room died down as everyone turned their attention to America and Texas, his son. 

“Thank you.” America said, clapping his hands together, “Yes, this is Texas, my son. And Mexico’s, but she lost custody when she tried to kill him.” 

“I didn’t,” Mexico protested, but Texas waved her off, something angry in his eyes.

“But yes, my states are personified,” America said.

“Well, why didn’t you tell us? It’s not like you’re the only country with states!” Canada said, crossing his arms.

“Because when my states were born, I was a weak nation that had no stable government, just got out of a war, was in a lot of debt, was dealing with some internal conflicts, and had made myself an enemy of the most powerful country in the world. I didn’t feel safe telling other nations about my state. Mainly because I wasn’t sure that the information wasn’t going to get back to a certain abuser,” America explained, something sharp and dangerous entering his voice. 

“Then why not tell anyone once you became a world power? Certainly, your states would be safe if you had the power to enforce it.” Chad pointed out. 

“Because—” America began, eyes flicking to Britain before he cut himself off, eyes growing distant. Luxembourg frowned, knowing the distinctive impression of America beginning to dissociate. Texas put a hand on his father’s back as if trying to provide him some sort of comfort or balance before speaking.

“Britain, Canada, I’m sure you remember what you did during the War of 1812,” Texas said, not providing any details that might have clarified things for anyone who didn’t know what he was referring to. 

“We’re on good terms now,” Britain answered, still leaving Luxembourg in confusion. Texas laughed, something sharp and bitter and so reminiscent of America.

“Politically? Sure? Personally? You abused my father for almost two hundred years. Dad wasn’t going to let anything happen to us,” Texas said, the hand that wasn’t resting on America’s back curling into a fist. 

A frown overtook Britain’s face, ears pressing against his head.

“I have tried to—”

“Trying isn’t good enough,” America said, his voice…different.

“Hey, Uncle James,” Texas said, smiling. James smiled back at the state.

“Good morning, Texas. You’re grounded,” Texas shrugged.

“Okay, but it was Liberia’s idea,” Texas said. Many eyes turned to Liberia, who shrugged.

“Liberia, you’re grounded,” James said without missing a beat.

“Raise your hand if you knew about America’s states,” Liberia said in the way of a response. To Luxembourg’s great surprise, most of the room raised their hands, causing Liberia to smirk. “I rest my case.”

James sighed. “Texas, I think it’s best you leave while I explain this.”

“Yeah, that sounds great to me, Uncle,” Texas said, turning to leave.

“One more thing,” James said. Texas stopped.

“Yeah?”

“Your…Alabama’s son is visiting,” James said, causing Texas’ eyes to light up some before he vanished. James then turned to face the room.

“Well then, any questions?”

As Luxembourg expected, those who were unaware erupted into noise. Luxembourg sighed. He wondered if this was an interruption enough for him to go home.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 4

Second Guessing (Wattpad | Ao3)

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This was a bad idea. 

Why did Texas agree to this again? Why did he decide to go along with Liberia’s insane scheme that was just going to get him in trouble?

Did Texas even want to meet the other countries? Texas already know—knew some countries. And revealing himself meant he would have to meet and talk to his mother again.

Texas backed away from the door to the meeting room and then began pacing in the hallway as his thoughts swirled around in a confusing mess.

Did Texas really want to go through with this? He could always back out, no harm done, except some damage to his relationship with Liberia, which wasn’t that strong to begin with. But as soon as he stepped through that door, there was no turning back.

Was Texas really ready to face his mother again? They had never been on good terms. She tried to kill him, he stabbed her, and then they barely talked to each other and never settled on their border. That’s why Texas’ annexation, which he thought would help fix his people’s problems, led to his American family fighting another war with her. 

A war that he fought in, once again his mother’s enemy. Even if she thought Texas was dead, he still fought against her, and he was still willing to kill her. 

God, and what about Alaska? Texas may act as if he hated his older brother sometimes because Alaska has to be taller than him because he used to be the biggest state goddamnit, and then Alaska became a state and— 

Texas cut himself off. Now wasn’t the time to be insulting his siblings. There was a time and place for that, the place being to their face, of course.

But even if Alaska was unfairly taller than Texas, Alaska was still his brother. And Alaska hasn’t had a single good experience with his biological father’s side of the family. 

What if revealing himself and the other states leads to Alaska having more bad experiences with his biological father’s family? 

And so many of his other siblings were adopted as well, and most of them being colonies really didn’t give any of them stable childhoods. Now, those adopted siblings had one. 

Somewhat at least. But since they weren’t being abused, mentally or physically, anymore, it still is an infinitely better life.

Did Texas really want to take that away from them?

Texas should have thought this through more. Dad always said he had a tendency to run headfirst into things without thinking about them, and this was a perfect example of that.

Texas sighed, knowing he would have to come to a decision before this meeting ended because if he decided to keep himself secret, he couldn’t be here when the meeting ended. 

After a mental debate, Texas decided that no, he was not ready to talk to his Mom again, especially not with all the shit that was happening between her people and his government. If Liberia really wanted to reveal his siblings and Texas, he could do it himself. It’s not like Dad’s the only country with states.

“Texas?” Texas then heard someone say. He froze.

“Fuck.” Texas muttered quietly. Guess his decision didn't matter. Texas turned around to see Mexico standing there. She looked stunned and confused, just like Texas himself.

“Hola Mama,” Texas said awkwardly, “It’s a nice day, isn’t it?”

“You’re dead,” she said, shaking slightly. 

“Uh, right, yeah, I am. I’m a ghost here to remind you of your past failures, wooo, so spooky.” Texas said, mentally cringing. He was so glad none of his siblings were here to watch him make a fool of myself. Mama crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. Her face was pale, but she was no longer shaking.

“Tejas, how stupid do you think I am?” she said. “I know you aren’t a ghost. I just want to know how you’re alive.”

“I’m…….not?” Texas said before mentally facepalming. That was one of the worst lies he’s ever told. Texas was ashamed of himself for that.

“How are you alive?” Mama asked, her voice cracking. She sounded so genuinely upset, something Texas didn’t expect. He honestly didn’t think she cared about him, not after everything that had happened between them.

“Uh….stubbornness. I have to go now.” Texas said, backing up, desperately wanting to escape this conversation. If no one else saw him, then maybe everyone would just think Mama was crazy, and then the other states and he would remain secret. 

“Oh, you aren’t going anywhere until you give me an explanation as to why you are alive,” Mama said.

“I did,” Texas responded. Mama crossed her arms.

“An explanation that helps,” she clarified. 

“That explanation helps me. Now fuck off and leave me alone.” Texas snapped, getting defensive. He didn’t know how to talk to his mom civilly.

“I am your mother, and you will do what I say,” Mama said. Texas gritted his teeth, furious. He did not fight a war for his independence and then join another nation for Mama to tell him that he had to listen to her.

“Like hell I am. Last I checked, I governed myself.” Texas responded. Mama looked like she was getting mad as well. Texas guessed neither of them knew how to have a civil conversation with each other.

“Not anymore. You’re not a country anymore.” Mama snapped back. Texas recoiled in surprise, as he was almost completely certain that was the first time Mama had ever said he was a country. 

Texas wanted to say something about his state government, but he wanted to stick to the decision he had made, so he kept his mouth shut, glaring at Mama. She must have realized Texas wasn’t going to say anything because she continued talking.

“Are other dead countries alive? Does United States know about this?” Mama asked. 

“Absolutely not. To both of those questions.” Texas said, hoping that Mama believed this lie. Texas wasn’t going to get Dad in trouble with Mama.

“Then where on earth have you been? Do you even know how you’re alive?” Mama asked, her voice getting louder. 

“I don’t have to tell you anything! Fuck off!” Texas said, trying to avoid the conversation. 

“What on earth is going on out here? United Mexican States, who is this?” Texas heard someone say, the voice coming from the direction of the meeting room. Texas turned to see the UN staring at them, and he groaned. 

This was going to be so much fun.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 3

Weird Siblings (Wattpad | Ao3)

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District of Columbia was trying her best to keep her temper under control. She hated the Confederacy with a burning passion. 

She was doing her best to keep an eye on him as he chatted with the South, barring a few, such as Tennessee, who hadn’t liked spending time with him since she had gotten close to Scott; West Virginia and the border states, for obvious reasons; and, much to everyone’s surprise, Texas.

Georgia, who had been watching District of Columbia out of the corner of her eye for the better part of the morning, sighed and walked over, a small smile on her face. 

“He’s not going to hurt us,” Georgia said. District of Columbia scoffed. 

“He had replacements for Arizona, Missouri, and Kentucky, and neither of them like him,” she pointed out. Georgia sighed, placing a gentle hand on District of Columbia’s shoulder.

“He won’t hurt them either. I promise. No one would have invited him in if he was.” Georgia said, her voice gentle and calming. District of Columbia leaned into her sister’s side, trying to take comfort while the anxiety in her stomach bubbled to an overwhelming amount.

“You can’t be sure of that. Not everyone here is the best judge of character,” District of Columbia said.

“That don’t mean you are,” Georgia responded. District of Columbia sighed.

“I know. And I know it’s wrong to be so hostile when he’s saved Father’s life, and he’s Bama’s only son, and it does seem like he wants to make up for what happened, but…Georgie, you weren’t there to see what the war did to Father. So long as he’s around, we ain’t gonna heal from it,” District of Columbia said, her tone serious. Georgia sighed.

“You get like this every time he’s here, and every time it’s fine. I know you’re trying to look after us, but we can do that ourselves,” Georgia said. District of Columbia frowned, glancing back at the dead man walking before huffing and turning away. 

District of Columbia knew she wasn’t the only one with her beliefs, even if she, alongside West Virginia, were the most vocal about it.

Most of the states really didn’t know what to think about it all, and those who hadn’t been around for the war elected that it was best to stay out of it. 

However, before she could leave, her brother’s voice called out to her.

“Hey Dee!” Alabama asked, approaching District of Columbia, “Fed’sss looking for Tex. You ssseen him?”

“Last time I saw him, he was in the kitchen, but that was last week,” District of Columbia said. “He’s probably in his state. Try calling him.”

“We have! He ain’t answerin’. Fed thinksss Tex is about to do sssomethin’ dangerous. Or ssstupid. Or both.” Alabama said. District of Columbia groaned. Why couldn’t this house have a moment of peace?

And why did the Confederacy have to be involved?

Just then, District of Columbia’s phone went off, and she pulled it out of her pocket.

Nate: Liberia is up to something.

Nate: Any ideas what he would do?

District of Columbia's eyes widened. Texas was gone, which wasn’t exactly uncommon, but Texas always stuck around when the Confederacy was here, still clinging to some begone notion by being around the man.

And Texas always answered his phone because like anyone who was even slightly involved in politics, he was constantly on to ensure he knew what was happening.

And now NATO said Liberia was acting like he was up to something. Which made District of Columbia think Texas had something to do with it. Maybe that’s why Texas wasn’t answering his phone, wasn’t here at their house, was somewhere else getting up to God knows what.

That did little to explain what he was getting up to, but District of Columbia knew there was only one thing that Liberia could be up to that would involve Texas.

Revealing her and the rest of her siblings to the world.

Liberia had been asking Father, along with the states who had no intention of ever being anything but a secret, if he could tell the countries who didn’t know about the states for the past decade.

Which included Britain. 

And District of Columbia knew she and several other people wanted that man to live in his blind ignorance of their existence because she knew him. She knew he would try to get involved in their lives when most of them wanted nothing more than for him to be out of them.

Hopefully, Texas wasn’t doing what District of Columbia thought he was doing, but if he was, she was going to kick his ass.

“Alabama, Nate thinks our lovely brother Liberia is up to something,” District of Columbia said, her tone sickeningly sweet but still deadly, a skill she had picked up from their father. Alabama took a step back, fear flicking in his eyes at her tone.

“I don’t know what he’sss up to, promissse! He hasss nothing to do with me or Fed,” he said, the hiss in his voice getting stronger with his panic. 

“I know, Bama,” District of Columbia responded, causing her brother to relax some.

“Then what do you think Liberia isss up to?” Alabama asked.

“Well, Liberia has always wanted to inform any uninformed countries of our existence instead of letting them find out on their own, and Texas is normally so very prudent at answering his know, and yet now he does not?” District of Columbia said, watching Alabama’s eyes widen as he put it together before they flickered over to his son.

“Do we know for sssure?” he asked. District of Columbia shook her head. 

“Not yet, but I am sure we will find out soon. I know…I know you might think this is my vendetta speaking, but could you get the Confederacy out of here? I have a feeling this meeting will be ending early, and if I’m right, Father is going to be stressed beyond what’s good for him,” District of Columbia said. Alabama nodded.

“I’ll take care of him. Let me know what happened,” Alabama said before rushing to his son’s side.

District of Columbia watched him go, her unease growing.

She hoped she was wrong.

She really hoped she was.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 2

Plans (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Liberia glanced down at his phone, waiting for Texas to respond to his message. While the stubborn man had agreed to the plan, just as fed up with the unofficial-official secrecy now that there was really no reason to pretend, he was…a handful.

Texas: Almost here. 

Texas: You’re going to take the fall if Dad gets mad at us, right?

Liberia: I have the right to remain silent

Texas: you aren’t American anymore 

Texas: shut up

Liberia: no

Liberia: and I always take responsibility for my bad ideas

That last part was a bit of a lie, and Texas began typing his response, most likely to call Liberia out on said lie. However, Liberia didn’t get a chance to see it as he heard someone coming up behind him.

“Salut Liberia!” Liberia heard Côte d’Ivoire say from behind him. Liberia quickly shoved his phone in his pocket. While he wanted to keep plotting with his brother, he knew being on his phone for the meeting was rude.

“Hello Côte d’Ivoire,” Liberia said.

“Where’s your father?” she asked. Liberia shrugged.

“Probably trying it to convince Sam that Samoa doesn’t need to change her name back,” Liberia joked, remembering the many times American Samoa had gotten upset about that.

“You think he would be less upset about that since so much time has passed,” Côte d’Ivoire said. 

“Americans hold grudges. Sam even calls her Western Samoa. Sam also tried to get the UN involved.” Liberia said. Côte d’Ivoire gave Liberia a confused but slightly amused look.

“Your family is interesting,” she said as Samoa walked up to them, having overheard the conversation.

“I should probably talk to American Samoa then.” Samoa said, a small smile on her face. Liberia wasn’t close to her, but they had spoken a few times about American Samoa.

“He won’t forgive you unless you change your name,” Liberia said. Well, he wasn’t sure about that, but knowing how his family could be, he would have eaten his shoe if that weren’t the case. Samoa sighed.

“He will, I think. Love is stronger than names,” she said. Liberia shrugged, not knowing how true that was. 

His father loved him, but things were always strange when you were a colony. But Liberia wasn’t going to fight her on that. She was closer to American Samoa than he was. It wasn’t his place. 

“Seriously, if you think Dad is stubborn, his kids are about five times worse,” Liberia pointed out. He had wanted to say states, but he decided it would be best not to spoil the surprise. 

District of Columbia was going to have his head for this, but at least some of the last memories he’d have would be of the countries that really should have more brain cells being surprised at one of the most obvious things ever.

Seriously, how did half of them not realize that Dad’s territories were personified just like every other territory in existence?

He knew they all knew about the territories, and he knew that Britain had met Michigan before, but some of them still didn’t realize it. It was shameful.

However, no one pried into things like that, and his father’s lie had permeated society long before many of the countries at that meeting were born.

Still, most of the world knew, so it wasn’t that much of an excuse. 

“People can be more stubborn than America? Are you sure?” Samoa asked, a teasing tone to her voice. Liberia thought back to the many, many arguments that his siblings had had over the dumbest things.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” he said with a slight grin. Samoa laughed and walked off to join the other Oceanic countries. 

Liberia sent a glance towards the door, wondering when Texas would come. He couldn’t check his phone, as Côte d’Ivoire was standing next to him, and the meeting was getting close to starting. United Nations was not afraid of confiscating things they saw as a distraction. 

“Can I talk Liberia alone?” Liberia then heard the North Atlantic Treaty Organization ask from behind him. 

Well that was odd. NATO had no reason to be at a UN meeting.

What was he doing here? New York City wasn’t even his headquarters.

“Uh, yes. Talk to you later.” Côte d’Ivoire said, moving over to Croatia and Costa Rica, who she sat between. As soon as she was out of earshot, NATO turned to Liberia.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing!” Liberia said. NATO narrowed his eyes. 

“You’re a really bad liar, Liberia.” The organization said. Liberia smiled.

“Well, even if something was up, what makes you think I’d tell you?” he asked. NATO sighed.

“Don’t do anything dumb. Please,” NATO said.

“Of course, I won’t do anything dumb,” Liberia said. NATO crossed his arms.

“I have a difficult time believing that,” he said. NATO then glanced at United Nations and sighed, “UN will be starting things soon. I will figure out what you’re doing, though.”

And with those final words, his little brother walked out of the room, a focused expression on his face. Hopefully, he didn’t run into Texas. NATO would stop him if he noticed their brother.

Liberia then walked over to his seat between Lesotho and Libya, looking around to see who was skipping this meeting. Mexico wasn’t here; neither was South Sudan or Syria. Many other countries were also missing, most of which were facing crises. 

That was normal. As much as United Nations wanted everyone to be here, there was always someone missing, whether they were dealing with a crisis or they just didn’t feel like coming. 

United Nations had only pointed out when people were missing if it was a member of the Security Council or someone who was supposed to be presenting something.

“Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming.” United Nations said. 

“If you really want to thank us, stop having us go to these things!” Kiribati called out. United Nations sent her an annoyed look.

“Republic of Kiribati, if your people come to meetings like this, then so will you.” United Nations said. 

“Another thing. Do you have to call us by our full names?” Kiribati asked. Liberia smiled. This conversation always came up during these meetings, fueled by United Nations’ unrelenting desire to call everyone by their full names, something that either amused people or annoyed them.

“Yes. Does anyone else have any complaints?” United Nations asked.

“Is there a logical reason for calling me by my full name?” Britain asked. United Nations sighed.

“Stop trying to waste time,” they said, knowing that maybe people were only involved in the conversation because it was a great way to try and burn time.

“I’m pretty sure UN is only doing it because they know how much it annoys us,” Canada said.

“I am. If you guys are going to undermine my authority and be annoying about everything that I do, then I will annoy you back by always referring to you by your full name because some of you get unreasonably upset about being called by your full name.” United Nations said.

“My full name is very long and is an inconvenience to say. That's why everyone but you calls me Britain.” Britain pointed out.

“Well, I’m special. Now stop trying to waste time.” United Nations said, “Or I will prevent anyone from using UN meetings for personal announcements in the future.”

“Unie, we love you to death, but you can’t stop that from happening,” Dad said, his voice tinged with amusement. United Nations sighed.

“I can try. Still, we have housekeeping to do first. America, Spain, are you both currently fronting?” United Nations asked. Dad nodded, and Spain made a so-so gesture with his hand.

“I think I am, but it’s crowded up front,” he said. United Nations nodded.

“Let me know if you need any recordings or transcripts of the meeting sent your way,” they said before sighing as if the next words they spoke were about to hurt them, “Are there any personal announcements?”

Liberia wanted to raise his hand, but his brother still had yet to arrive, so he kept silent.

He didn’t mind interrupting a UN meeting if he needed to.

Getting this over with was better in the long run.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Chapter 1

Chaos (Wattpad | Ao3)

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“FUCK YOU!” 

America sighed as he heard someone’s shout echo throughout the house. 

“Who is it this time?” James asked, an amused tone to his voice. America sighed.

“Hopefully, I’m not about to find out,” he said as someone burst into his room.

“Dad!” Minnesota said. America groaned.

“What's up?” America asked, hoping it wasn’t a fight revolving around the state's borders. Those were typically the ones that he was asked to deal with since he was “unbiased.”

“I think they’re just doing it to annoy you at this point,” Caleb joked, and America could practically hear the grin on his face. 

“York and NJ are—” Minnesota began before America cut her off with a groan. He loved the triplets with his entire being, but damn, no one could fight like they could. 

“Let me guess. Their border.” America said. Minnesota nodded, causing America to sigh, “Those two have been arguing over their border for years. Every single time I think we fix the issue, they find something new to argue about.” 

“So they act just like Congress then,” Minnesota joked. America snorted. 

“There’s a reason Congress acts the way it does, and that’s because of you guys,” America said. Minnesota crossed her arms.

“Hey, they have the excuse of being siblings. Congress doesn’t have that,” James said, causing Caleb to begin laughing.

“It’s not our fault if our people are stubborn,” Minnesota argued. America laughed a little at that, knowing there was some truth to her words. 

“We’re Americans. Did you expect us to be cooperative?” Wisconsin called from the hallway, the open door allowing anyone to hear their conversation.

“Fuck off, Connie!” Minnesota yelled back in reply. America held back a laugh, smiling at his daughters. He didn’t think Minnesota meant to prove Wisconsin’s point, but she had regardless.

“She’s got a point,” America said. Minnesota scowled.

“Yeah, but she's Wisconsin,” Minnesota said. America sighed. He hated the state rivalries. Aside from the more obvious one, there were too many to keep track of, and they just made everything more complicated. 

“It doesn’t help that you don’t have a state to be loyal to. Really on the outside looking in,” Caleb muttered as if he wasn’t in the same boat as America. 

“Can you try and get along?” America asked, knowing it was a futile effort, but would perhaps convey how tired he had been recently with his insomnia worsening. Minnesota gave him a blank stare.

“No,” she said, smiling softly before walking out of America’s room. America sighed, petting his cat a few times before stretching his arms and preparing to leave his room.

“Gude Mariye Daed,” Pennsylvania said as she saw America leave his room. She stood behind Ohio, holding him back, while Delaware similarly restrained Michigan. 

“Again? Gosh, everyone woke up and chose violence today, didn’t they?” Conch Republic asked, sounding highly amused.

“Hello, Penny, Del. Ohio, can you and Michigan relax, please?” America asked. Ohio scowled, and if his arms were free, America had no doubt he would have crossed them.

“I’ll relax when you tell Michigan th—” Ohio began before America cut him off. 

“I’m not getting involved. You know how it is. Just…please be quieter when you fight in the morning. I struggle with sleep enough as it is,” America said.

“You’ve gotten better recently,” James pointed out.

“We know, Dad,” Ohio said, “Sorry. We’ll take it to the church next time.”

“And incur Papa’s wrath?” Delaware asked, smiling as he released Michigan. Ohio rolled his eyes.

“He won’t get that mad,” the Buckeye state said before turning to Michigan. “Are we done now, or do you want to continue?” 

“I can’t believe you’re acting like these fights are a job you two have,” Pennsylvania said before deciding that she was going to end any opportunity of a fight herself, throwing Ohio over her shoulder and walking away as the younger state complained.

“Gotta love PA,” Caleb said, his tone light.

America sighed and continued heading to the kitchen, hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with any other nonsense. He was too tired for that.

“Hey, Dee,” America said as he walked past the district, who looked like she was about to commit a murder.

“Good morning, Father. Someone let Alabama’s bastard son into the house,” she spat, hatred in her voice. America felt himself begin to scowl as well. He had decided to let the man live—

“A terrible choice, I think,” James added. 

America had decided to let him live since he saved America’s life during the Second World War, but that didn’t mean America was willing to place nice, as he had banned the man from entering his home without his permission.

“Where?” America asked, hoping to give the man a piece of his mind.

District of Columbia nodded her head in the direction of the kitchen. America’s hands closed into fists, and he marched into the kitchen, hoping to drive the man off before picking up his coffee for the day’s UN meeting. 

When America walked in, he saw Florida and Louisiana sitting there alongside the Confederacy, whose eyes narrowed upon seeing America.

“Fucker,” America heard Charlie spit out, and he knew that the man was near the front because of the Confederacy.

“Hola, America,” Florida said, looking away and refusing to meet America’s eyes as if he knew he was about to be scolded. America let some of his anger fade away. He was mad at the Confederacy, not Florida.

“Buenos dias, Florida,” America began, "Yo no estoy enojado con tú."

Florida brightened some at that, and Louisiana seemed to be put at ease, although the Confederacy still looked confused. America didn’t care. It served the bastard right for never learning Spanish.

“Confederacy,” America then said, his voice cold as he addressed the intruder. Florida then began to slip out of the room, seemingly not wanting to deal with the fallout of whatever happened here.

“Hello Union. How’d you sleep?” Confederacy asked as if he were a guest, welcome in my home.

“I thought I told you that you were only allowed to enter my home with permission,” America said, ignoring his attempts at pleasantries.

“I had permission from my Father,” Confederacy said. 

“Don’t get too mad at Bama about it,” Caleb said. Charlie scoffed.

“He should. The traitor shouldn’t be inviting more into our home,” The man said, his voice angry.

“You need permission from me. That was the deal we made,” America said, wishing he had a weapon to make his point clearer. “If you want to go back on it, we can, but I hope you understand what that means for you.”

“Father—” Louisiana began before cutting himself off. America turned to his son, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, Lou?” he asked. 

“If we ensure he’s gone by the time you return from your meeting, can he stay?” Louisiana suggested. 

“Then we don’t have to put up with him,” James said.

“I don’t like it. He can still mess with our stuff, or take something, or…or whatever. I don’t like not being here to keep an eye on him,” Charlie added.

“So long as someone keeps an eye on him and keeps him from my room, fine. But ask me next time,” America sighed.

“I would have if I knew he was coming,” Louisiana said something off in his tone. But America nodded and backed off, grabbing coffee from the machine.

“Have a great day, Louisana,” America said before checking his watch and realizing he might be late for the meeting, leaving and bringing himself to New York City.

Hopefully, the rest of the day went better than this.

[weirdestbooks]

Secret States Table Of Contents

Chaos

Plans

Weird Siblings

Second Guessing

America Has More Kids?

Governments are Complicated

Realization

Shocked

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 32

Fight For The Forts (Wattpad | Ao3)

Table of Contents | Prev | Next

October 22, 1777

Saratoga had changed everything. United States had never felt more confident in his ability to win against his father. For he had captured a British army, something no one had done before. His northern border was no longer under threat, and that meant he could return his focus to the battles around Philadelphia. 

He tried to, at least. He really did try. But almost against his will, his mind kept wandering back to the other news surrounding the loss of Saratoga.

How his cousin and her son were now prisoners of war. United States knew it was unlikely that they would be allowed to leave and return to his father, too valuable as prisoners of war. It worried United States.

He didn’t think his people would hurt them, but…

“You’re afraid of losing them,” James said. United States hummed and nodded.

Nova Scotia was one of his best friends. United States had never wanted to lose her. He just hoped she would understand that this was war and he didn’t have a choice. He knew he would visit her as soon as the winter set and the fighting calmed.

Hopefully, that would allow any anger she might hold towards United States to dissipate. 

He hoped.

“She loves us. I…I don’t think she will be blinded by anger,” Virginia said, her voice light. United States sighed. He hoped Virginia was right.

Still, there were more important concerns than the worries he held and the drafts of letters for Nova Scotia that he had abandoned in his tent.

Hessians were attacking Fort Mercer.

United States knew why they were attacking the fort. United States’ people had been using them to keep the British ships out of the Delaware River and away from Philadelphia. So long as they remained, Father would have a logistical nightmare on his hands. 

Both United States and his father knew that.

However, United States was not one of the defenders of Fort Mercer, as he served at General Washington’s side. So, instead of defending the fort from the fort, United States had gotten permission to be on one of the gunboats in the area, a boat that was now preparing to provide Fort Mercer with support fire.

“I still think I should be allowed to fight this battle,” Connecticut said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. United States knew his son was frustrated and wanted to be able to fight, but…United States wanted to fight in the few battles that he could, the ones where his father was not looming across the battlefield like a malevolent spectator.

It also gave him a small amount of pride. His father had always been proud of his command of the sea. United States wanted to undermine that.

There were very few alternative methods for undermining his father.

So, despite Connecticut’s pleading, United States remained in command of the body as the defenders of Fort Mercer drove off the Hessian attackers. 

It wasn’t until he saw them all withdraw that United States let out a sigh of relief. He still controlled the Delaware River.

If he wanted to cause his father as many problems as he could during his father’s occupation, United States needed to keep that control.

He only hoped that he would be able to. The British still had Fort Mifflin besieged, and skirmishes for that fort were ongoing.

He needed to keep these forts. He had to win these battles.

• ───────────────── •

November 16, 1777

Britain had made himself comfortable in Philadelphia. He deserved to, after all that Thirteen Colonies’ rebellion had done to him and his family. He earned a respite from the fighting, a chance to handle more important issues as he chased the fleeting hope that Thirteen Colonies would return to his side willingly. 

His choice was mainly influenced by the news of the capture of Nova Scotia and St. John’s Island. Britain had never seen Scotland so worried and frazzled, and it scared him. Scotland still had far more faith in Thirteen Colonies than Britain did, but Scotland had no faith in the rebels.

It didn’t help that they had received no letters or updates besides the news that they had been captured.

The rebels now had a powerful bargaining chip, and no matter how heartless people might call Britain, he wasn’t going to risk the safety of Nova Scotia and St. John’s Island. He didn’t know if or when they were going to be used against him, but Britain had no doubt they would be.

It was what made him more convinced than ever that Thirteen Colonies was either lost in delusions of grandeur and independence or being held against his will by the rebels, as Britain knew his son would not risk the safety of someone he was so close to. 

Of course, they could now be used as blackmail to keep Thirteen Colonies fighting in a foolish rebellion.

The entire situation worried Britain. 

A knock on the door of his room had Britain looking up from a letter to England, and, sighing loudly, Britain went to get the door. As he walked to the door, he smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt, hoping it was news that could put his worried mind to ease.

Opening the door, Britain was met with a scared-looking messenger.

“He–hello, your holiness. I have a message from the—from the soldiers who were besieging Fort Mifflin,” the boy said, holding out the letter, arm shaking slightly. Britain took the letter, smiling slightly.

“Thank you. You’re dismissed.” The boy’s arm dropped, and he quickly rushed away, causing Britain to let out a little laugh as he opened the letter.

“Humans,” he muttered, shaking his head, before reading the letter. His eyes widened in excitement as he read it before he quickly left the room, marching to Scotland’s room.

Scotland needed to know. It might help soothe at least some of his mind.

“Scotland, I have news!” Britain said as he entered. Scotland’s ears perked up, excitement in his eyes as he turned to face Britain.

“Is it about Scotia or Eoin?” he asked, hopeful. Britain’s shook his head, and Scotland’s face crumbled.

“I’m sorry, it isn’t. But it is still good news. We have captured one of the rebel forts blocking the Delaware, securing our position here in Philadelphia,” Britain said, but the news didn’t seem to do much to cheer Scotland up. Britain frowned, voice softening. “We’ll get them back. I promise.”

“I know. I have faith,” Scotland said, “I just worry. Eoin is too young to be caught up in this nonsense, and you know how soldiers will sometimes treat women.”

“Anyone who hurts them will face the full wrath of the British Empire,” Britain said, voice firm, “I will not let anyone get away with that.”

A slight smile appeared on Scotland’s face.

“I know you will. Thank you.”

• ───────────────── •

December 8, 1777

Britain was furious.

Three days of fighting, three days of victories against the rebels, and for what? For General Howe to retreat when they had the advantage? When the end of the war and Thirteen Colonies were so close?

Next thing you knew, General Howe was going to tell them that he was surrendering to the rebels because they were too hard for him to beat!

“Crùn,” Scotland said from behind him, his voice so familiar and soothing that it pissed Britain off even more. 

“What?” Britain snapped.

“This isn’t the end of things. The war isn’t over because we didn’t capture him here,” Scotland said, speaking to Britain as if he were some wild animal that needed to be calmed, needed to be tamed.

As if Britain were the one infected with primitiveness.

“Howe is a coward. We could have ended things here,” Britain snarled. “We could have gotten back Nova Scotia and St. John’s Island. Why retreat when you have the advantage, when you are winning?”

“You know why,” Scotland answered. Britain scowled, glaring down at the reins in his hands.

“We still should have tried,” Britain said.

“And risk losing more men? General Howe made the decision he thought was best. We have low provisions, and after three days of fighting, we haven’t broken the rebel defenses. That’s not a position we can hold. I know you want this war to be over. I do, too, but…being idiots gives the rebels more of an advantage.” Scotland said. Britain looked away, knowing the older man was right.

“It still feels wrong,” he said.

“I know.” Scotland answered, “I had hoped this would be the answer to my prayers, and I would see my daughter and grandson in time for Christmas. Now, I have no idea how long it will be until I see them once more.”

“I wish he had seen sense,” Britain muttered. Scotland hummed.

“Me too.”

[weirdestbooks]

Sammy's Crush (Wattpad | Ao3)

For @aloha-from-angel

When American Samoa decided to join this theater, he hadn’t expected to fall in love. But how could he not?

Fauna was the most beautiful person that American Samoa had ever seen. They had a soft voice that became so confident and powerful when they acted and dark brown eyes that American Samoa could easily get lost in. 

They were funny and witty and had recently moved to American Samoa’s land from his sister’s country, meaning that they were also moving about and trying to learn new things about the community. 

American Samoa had put together little outings with the rest of the theater every now and again, but every time he tried to arrange something for the two of them alone, the words dried up in his throat. 

He had never felt this way about anyone before. He had had crushes before and brief, short romances, but no one had ever made him feel this way before. It was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.

“You need to ask them out,” American Samoa then heard from behind him. He turned to see his friend, Petelo, sitting behind him with a slight smile on his face. “Because it’s really obvious that you have a massive crush on them.”

American Samoa sighed, reluctantly pulling his eyes away from Fauna.

“I’ve tried, but I just get so flustered and…and I can’t think or form words right,” American Samoa said.

“You’re smitten, my friend,” Petelo said, patting American Samoa on the shoulder. 

“I know…” American Samoa groaned, “I’m lucky my Tina and tuafafine haven’t figured it out yet.”

He knew both of them would try and needle information from him or just show up to meet Fauna themself, but neither opinion was something American Samoa wanted until he could talk to them normally.

“If your mama’s anything like my mama, she knows someone has caught your eye, even if she hasn’t said anything,” Petelo said.

“Luckily, my tina is terrible at social cues and really bad with romance, and typically doesn’t realize she’s in love until she’s been asked out, so I think I’m safe,” American Samoa said.

“What about your dad?”

“AroAce,” American Samoa deadpanned, causing Petelo to let out a startled laugh.

“Oh, no wonder you can’t ask them out. No one in your family knows romance,” he said. America Samoa sighed.

“I would protest, but I don’t think you’re wrong,” he said, eyes turning back to Fauna, a smile tugging at his lips as he watched them go over their lines. Fauna caught his eyes and grinned, causing American Samoa to flush bright red, breaking eye contact to stare at his hands. His stomach was doing somersaults, and his heart was fluttering widely.

Petelo clapped a hand on my shoulder.

“My friend, Malosi, the world’s best romantic,” he said, causing American Samoa to stick out his tongue at him. Once Fauna’s rehearsal finished, they walked over and sat beside Petelo and American Samoa.

“N-nice performance,” American Samoa stuttered, giving Fauna a thumbs up before blushing from embarrassment. 

Thumbs up? Who did that?

“Thank you, Malosi. That means a lot,” they said. American Samoa’s blush deepened at the compliment, and Petelo leaned over to whisper in American Samoa’s ear.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” Petelo said before standing up and walking away. “Sorry, Fauna, but I have to use the restroom. I’m sure Malosi here can keep you company.”

American Samoa’s eyes widened in panic, desperately appealing to Petelo for aid. But his friend was an asshole and simply smiled as he walked away, leaving American Samoa all alone with his crush.  

“Uh…h-hi?” American Samoa stuttered. 

“Hi Malosi,” Fauna said, their voice gentle, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“You-you have?” American Samoa asked. Oh, don’t tell him they thought he was weird, or didn’t want to be around him or—

“Malosi, it’s okay,” Fauna said, cutting through his panic as they placed a gentle hand on his. American Samoa relaxed some, giving Fauna his best attempt at a smile.

“Thank you,” he said, “Wh–what did you want to ask?”

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Fauna asked. American Samoa’s brain stuttered to a halt as he stared at Fauna in shock.

“I’m American Samoa,” he blurted out as soon as his brain started working again, unsure what else to say, his brain running on an endless feedback loop of panicked excitement. 

“Yes, I know. Will you go out with me or not?” Fauna said. American Samoa gaped at them. 

“You…you know?” he asked.

“You have the same tattoos, and after you told me about your tenth different sibling, I put it together,” Fauna said, smiling softly. American Samoa let out a small laugh before nodding, the butterflies in his stomach so strong that he felt nauseous.

“I want to go on a date,” he squeaked out. Fauna's grin widened, and they pulled American Samoa in a hug. Once again, American Samoa’s brain stuttered as he tried to process what was happening.

Fauna was hugging him. Him! And they had asked him out.

This was the greatest day of his life.

…right after Tina agreeing to be his Tina. But a close second.

“Oh, I’m so glad,” they said. American Samoa then relaxed into their hug, hugging them back. Fauna pulled away, still smiling at American Samoa, whose heart skipped a beat before returning to its happy flutters.

“Where…where do you plan on going?” American Samoa asked, finding himself less nervous and more happy and excited now that he knew the feelings were mutual. 

“I was hoping for a walk on the beach, maybe. So we can talk and learn a little more about each other,” Fauna said, taking American Samoa’s hand. His face flushed red again as he stared at their clasped hands before finding his voice, nodding. 

“That sounds great,” American Samoa said. Fauna pulled him a little bit closer before pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I’m glad,” they said as they pulled away. American Samoa stared at them in shock.

Fauna kissed him! He began giggling slightly, happiness overwhelming him.

“May I kiss you again?” he asked. Fauna smiled and kissed him again, this time on the lips, and American Samoa couldn’t be happier.

“About fucking time!” Petelo then yelled, causing American Samoa and Fauna to spring apart.

American Samoa was going to kill his friend first.

[weirdestbooks]

Missouri's Medical Report (Wattpad | Ao3)

Bonus scene from A Civil Disagreement.

Missouri followed orders.

Unlike the other slave states, he was loyal. He saved lives, not destroyed them—a doctor, not a soldier. And he was a good doctor.

Even if he felt guilty about what he had done to Michigan. 

It was necessary, he knew that, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Michigan was an amputee now.

As angry as Missouri was about that fact, his temper had been soothed by Mississippi turning herself in, the guilt so strong she surrendered, even if the army she had been with didn’t. Missouri had heard she was still in the dark about Michigan’s condition. Missouri might have considered telling her, but he had been ordered against speaking to her.

And Missouri followed orders.

Martial law had helped to keep him loyal. 

So Missouri continued playing his role as a doctor, writing reports for the surgeon-general’s office and preparing specimens, like Michigan’s amputated wing, to be sent to the Army Medical Museum for further study. 

Those were his orders.

Missouri obeyed.

Any part of him that might have felt guilt over his actions, might have asked Michigan for his permission to send the wing away, was drowned out by the all-consuming bliss of martial law.

“What are you writing?” Michigan asked. Missouri had elected to write his reports by his brother’s side so he could be there if any health issues arose. While the amputation had gone well, Missouri still worried that if Michigan died from an infection, it would still be considered a death caused by another country, as Mississippi shot him, and Missouri helped to amputate the devastated limb.

There was still too high a risk that they could lose their brother forever.

“A report on your injury for the surgeon-general’s office. I’m required to write one for all my cases,” Missouri explained. Michigan shifted uncomfortably.

“Oh,” he said, looking perturbed.

“It’s an order,” Missouri clarified. His family knew he was under martial law. Missouri had practically begged for it, so Missouri knew when he did something that might have been considered abnormal before the war, he had a reason to give.

“Do you…why did you ask for martial law, Souri?” Michigan asked.

“I needed to ensure that the traitors in my state wouldn’t corrupt me. I am happier this way, loyal,” Missouri said, letting his pen fall still as the fog of martial law began to cloud his thoughts. 

It was the most annoying thing about martial law, but Missouri knew it was important. When he wasn’t sure if it would affect what he was doing, he would take a small break from it, something that helped soothe his mind. 

Despite its flaws, martial law was…so nice. 

Michigan stayed silent, and Missouri looked over to him.

“Why are you asking?” Missouri asked. Michigan sighed.

“I don’t know…I’ve just been thinking a lot. It’s all I really can do,” he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away from Missouri. Missouri frowned before reaching over to pat Michigan’s hand. He knew he probably should be able to think of more ways to comfort him, but his mind couldn’t think of anything, with all his emotions numbed to allow him to do his work and forget about the traitors.

“You’ll get better soon. I promise. Mississippi will face justice for what she did, and everything can…” Missouri almost said that things could go back to normal, stopping himself as he realized, no, they couldn’t.

Things would never go back to normal.

“Everything can get better. Once the war ends, things will get better,” Missouri corrected. Michigan still looked unconvinced.

“I’ll never get better,” he said. Missouri sighed, picking up his pen and continuing his report. Before martial law, a part of him might have been concerned with handing over information about his family to humans, but he knew the information was going to go into good hands, be used to help teach people about medicine and learn more about the human (and countryhuman) body. 

So, he continued his report while trying to offer his medical knowledge to Michigan. 

“If you were destined never to heal, brother, you would have died when Mississippi shot you. You’re healing, and you’re surviving, even if you are down a wing. You will…you will continue to get better,” Missouri reasoned. Michigan was silent, and Missouri looked up from his report to check on him, seeing his face twisted into a frown. Deciding not to pry into whatever was upsetting him, Missouri turned to his report as he began to detail Michigan’s experiences after his surgery. 

“How would you feel?” Michigan then asked, voice somewhat angry, “If you found out you could never fly again?”

Missouri blinked, processing the question. He loved flying, as all his winged siblings did. He didn’t—he wasn’t sure how to answer that. Losing flight was one thing, but Michigan’s was different. He lost his wing serving his country.

Yet, Missouri knew how badly he wo—

If you are hurt in service to your country, any injury that comes from that is worth it.

Martial law seemed to whisper to him, cutting off any thoughts and soothing any fears he might have had.

“If I lose a wing in service to my country, then it is not a loss. It is proof I am loyal,” Missouri ended up saying after a few minutes of silence before turning to Michigan with a small smile. “It hurts now, but you didn’t lose them for a stupid reason. It shouldn’t have to be a bad thing.”

Michigan scoffed, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know why I expected you to understand,” he said. The words hurt, but Missouri tried to extend understanding to his brother. He knew Michigan was hurting. Missouri had been treating him since that terrifying day when he fell from the sky.

“I’m trying to, Michigan,” Missouri eventually responded before standing up. “I need to finish my reports. Have a nurse fetch me if your condition seems to get worse.”

Missouri felt bad about leaving Michigan behind, but he knew that the conversation was only going to keep turning for the worse. 

He tried to help, but Missouri treated wounds, not hurt feelings. Michigan would get better with time. They both knew that.

Missouri would just need to give him space.

[weirdestbooks]

Secrecy and Deception Chapter 26

A Failed Invasion (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Event: Cuba begins to align with the USSR

Location: Havana, Republic of Cuba

Date: December 19, 1960

When Cuba decided to ally with the USSR, he wasn’t expecting the man himself to come visit Cuba’s country. In hindsight, Cuba should have expected it. While he was going to become allies with the USSR, the USSR, like most countries in Cuba’s life, was not going to see him as a person, and Cuba suspected USSR was only so interested in him because of how close he was to the United States.

In geography, that is. He knew that United States would not be happy with Cuba’s decision to ally with the USSR, and he knew the chances of him being able to visit his brothers had decreased, if not vanished altogether.

Still, even if the USSR was not here for Cuba himself, Cuba would still be a good host. He had decency, something many countries lacked. 

“So, what brings you to my home?” Cuba asked the USSR as they walked down the streets of Havana. Due to the fact that Cuba didn’t speak Russian, and USSR didn’t speak Spanish, they had elected to have their conversation in English, a language they both knew.

While neither of them seemed eager about the idea, it prevented them from having to bring a human translator with them.

“Our new alliance?” USSR stated, simply and matter of factly. Cuba didn’t trust it.

“Are you sure it is not just because I am close to Estados Unidos and that is convenient for you?” Cuba asked. USSR sighed.

“I will not pretend like that isn’t a large reason behind why my government wants to ally with you,” USSR began, “But I am sure many of your old connections will be burned with this. I figured I should show up in person to this.”

Cuba, a man who had been betrayed more than once in his life, didn’t trust the sentiment. America had used similar wording, and it had all turned out to be fake in the end. 

At least the chances of the USSR invading him were smaller.

“I am not upset at losing Estados Unidos’ false friendship. There was far too much bad blood between us. The only part that upsets me is that Estados Unidos will most likely keep me from my brothers, Florida and Puerto Rico, as a petty form of revenge,” Cuba answered, frowning as he thought back to his brothers.

Were they mad at him, too? Would they see this as a betrayal? Would they side with United States and refuse to see him?

Cuba didn’t know, and that scared him more than anything. Puerto Rico was practically his twin, his other half. He didn’t want to learn how lonely the world would be without that.

“I am sorry. America truly a horrib—”

“Please don’t lecture me about Estados Unidos. I don’t need to be manipulated to dislike him. I already do. Our history together is older than you, and frankly, it is insulting to me that you think I need to be swayed against him when I am already siding with you, a sign that I am not on Estados Unidos’ side. My brothers will make their choices, just as I have made mine. There is very little Estados Unidos can do to control them if they have truly made up their minds to continue their relationship,” Cuba lectured. 

USSR was silent for several moments as they walked down the street. Cuba kept his head held high, refusing to look at the man.

“Sorry. It force of habit,” USSR said. 

“Just remember who you are talking to. I don’t know if we can ever be friends, but don’t ruin things because you don’t think before you speak,” Cuba said before sighing, “Let’s find something else to talk about.”

Cuba still didn’t trust the man, but he was nice to talk to. He listened better than United States did, even if they both had the same glint in their eyes.

Maybe they would be friends someday. Maybe simply acquaintances.

Cuba wasn’t sure, but it was off to a better start than his…well, his relationship with the United States had begun well.

Cuba just hoped this one didn’t end in betrayal, too. He was here to be the USSR’s ally, not one of his puppets.

He hoped the USSR knew that, too.

• ───────────────── •

Event: Bay of Pigs Invasion

Location: Havana, Republic of Cuba

Date: April 17, 1961

Cuba had never been more furious in his life. Of course, United States screwed him over. When did that godforsaken man do anything else? He never respected Cuba once in his life!

Cuba had hoped that someday the United States would leave him to be his own nation, but clearly, that was never going to happen. He decided to talk to the USSR, just talk to him; they weren’t even friends, Cuba wasn’t even communist, and United States sent a bunch of his lackeys to try and force Cuba back under his thumb.

Well, if the United States was going to attack him for being friends with the USSR, then Cuba was going to be that man’s closest friend, just to spite that little bastard! There were so many things about United States that Cuba could tell him, includ—

No. Cuba hated the United States, but he refused to stoop to his level. United States was off in the head, but revealing how much could do far more damage than good.

Cuba sighed, pressing his face in his hands. 

He knew this was coming. It didn’t make it hurt any less.

Two days prior, eight bombers attacked Cuba and thankfully failed miserably. While painted to look like planes from his Air Force, Cuba and his people had quickly learned that they were US B-26 bombers.

United States had supplied the people who were now attacking Cuba. And if Cuba knew the man as well as he thought he did, he had also trained them.

Cuba had been furious about that and marched over to United States’ house to demand answers. He pounded on the door, screaming every swear he knew when they didn’t answer, even though Cuba knew someone had to be home.

Cuba had once lived there. He knew that home was never empty. 

Them ignoring his justified anger had only pissed Cuba off more before he went back home, emotionally preparing himself for more attacks.

He should have seen this coming, and Cuba felt like a fool for thinking that the United States was going to just…let him go.

With how United States had an iron grip on Guantanamo Bay and refused to let go, even after Cuba had declared it an illegal occupation, even after he explained that he had only done it because he was recently freed from a military government, with his thoughts and brain still addled, United States refused to leave.

Cuba should have expected that United States would attempt to bring Cuba back under his thumb, attempt to bring back the mind-controlled Cuba who did anything and everything he asked without a second thought.

Cuba felt like breaking something, and he felt like sobbing. Why wouldn’t the United States leave him alone?

People were invading his country due to that bastard. 

Cuba had faith he and his people would defeat them, as the invaders didn’t seem competent. He just…he wished that maybe things could have been different. He wished that the United States wasn’t so power-hungry and was actually the man he claimed to be.

Cuba wished he had family on his side.

He wished a lot of things.

It didn’t change how lonely he felt.