Thirteen Voices Raised 2b/13
anonymous
October 20 2010, 03:59:25 UTC
He soon wishes he had an excuse to leave his home again. Britain was not pleased to returned to find him gone, much less so when he learned where he’d been. He paces back and forth (just like Massachusetts and that’s a comparison he’s never going to mention) sometimes spitting out a sentence fragment. The duality is back and half of America wants to curl up and apologize because he knows that Britain didn’t want him meeting with the colonies who’ve grown so fast and unruly and yet he did. The other half wants to shout that its none of England’s damn business if he meets his own colonies who aren’t even fighting against England who really is a controlling bastard. Again, he chooses neither path, instead just leaves for his room. The next morning Britain gives him a cold goodbye as he will be gone for a few weeks visiting Canada. America is left alone with his thoughts.
Britain returns, bad mood fully intact, and America finds it hard to hide his smile. He can just imagine Britain’s face if he ever saw New York’s letter (which was almost written in code the hand writing is so bad making it almost worth it to have stayed in school so long because at least his writing is legible) saying bet he’ll be pissy for ages now that you look like you might be able to stand up to him. He can just imagine Britain’s face if he finds any of the letters and suddenly he finds it much easier to hide his smile.
He’s about to ask about Canada when Britain interrupts, “So. You want to deal with the colonies do you.” America would point out that that’s not exactly what he was saying but he’s seen this kind of mood before and he knows it would do no good. “Come with me, this might give you something to think about.” They move together and when America opens his eyes Massachusetts gives him a wink. Britain glares for a moment before sweeping, every line of his body filled with dignity. Massachusetts immediately grabbed America’s arm.
“Good to see you. I was hoping you might come here. Remember that this is about justice which should be fair no matter how annoy the victim might be. Though honestly, either way this is going to be worth every minute.” America thinks he should probably mention he has no clue what is going on but Mass talking resembles nothing so much as a steam roller and any attempt in digging up old topics will only result in smashed fragments. “This is Connecticut,” he says, gesturing to young man with Massachusetts’ dark hair, a familiar round face and small smile. He lowers his voice slightly and adds, “We’ll talk again later.”
America was prepared to be very open minded, especially since the victim was the first colony he met that actually looked younger than him. On the other hand he looks sixteen times smugger than he’s ever seen New York and is wearing an oversized hat. America joins Britain who’s sitting glaring at the boy. “Rhode Island, this is your last chance. Tell me what you know.”
The boy paused for a long moment, “Sorry old fellow, I don’t have a clue what happened. Things like this just happen you know.” For a second America thinks Britain is going to strangle the colony but he restrains himself to yelling. It all seems to boil down accusations of smuggling and abandonment and disrespect and people who don’t deserve respect. America finds the whole thing rather boring and he wonders if this is supposed to make him back off but everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves even if in the end nothing seems to be really being said.
In the end the file out and America is, yet again, grabbed by Massachusetts who drags him in to a narrow side corridor. “What’d you think?” He asks.
Thirteen Voices Raised 2c/13
anonymous
October 20 2010, 04:01:23 UTC
“Seemed rather stupid to me,” America admits and suddenly they’re laughing together and then they’re kissing (all together and his brain really likes to think of stupid things in moments of panic). England calls and they break apart (Massachusetts brushes his knuckles and America can feel the heat in his cheeks we’ll meet again) and rejoin the main group. Britain is glaring at Rhode Island who humming under his breath but Connecticut gives them a knowing look and a small wave. Britain was right. America certainly has a lot to think about now.
the historical event that appears in the background of the later part of this chapter is the Gaspee Affair. The song is here: http://www.gaspee.org/Song.html because it amuses me. Next time: tea parties, acts of intolerableness and Pennsylvania (+ others)
Oh the last two parts things are heating up really quickly. I loved the introduction to the colonies (Massachusetts is LOVE) and can't wait to see more of them. Poor America I love how he's confused and just sort of rushing along in a current he can't quite understand right now. It feels very true to the time period and to the character.
Thirteen Voices Raised 3a/13
anonymous
October 20 2010, 16:03:37 UTC
iii.
It’s been a long time since America last saw Massachusetts and he’s starting to feel like a coward. They’ve written letters (he’s written so many letters his neat letters are starting slope and glide because he doesn’t have time for neatness when he has to get his thoughts on paper at the very second) but they haven’t met face o face since before England left grumbling about ungrateful colonies. Besides, Boston feels restless (and he can actually feel it now, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need England to go to where his people are bubbling).
Massachusetts clasps his arm in a quiet greeting; his hair sticks up in every direction. “England’s here,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bay, “boat says they’re not leaving till we unload the damn tea.” America nods.
“What are we going to do?” Massachusetts beams but America just feels a deep determination. His feet still rebel from being sent down a certain path but he knows that things cannot remain as they are.
“I have gotten a little…inspiration from my dearest brother,” Mass says with a glint in his eye that makes him look nothing like England. That’s how America finds himself darkening his hair and painting his face as he exchanges whispered hisses about the state of affairs throughout the colonies. Before they set out Massachusetts draws him into a long embrace. America says nothing but as they head to the docks he is the one to reach for Mass’ hand.
The event itself is exhilarating beyond belief. America finds himself whooping loudly and joining in a contest to see who can throw a tea crate the farthest. He can imagine England’s reaction but for once it doesn’t curl his stomach and bring shameful tears to his eyes. He almost whishes that England would see him, free and unafraid, not wary of lectures or restrictions. He sees Massachusetts face lit with the same light and he wonders if this is what love feels like. Then he laughs and tosses in two crates at once; reveling in the cheers of his fellows.
Even later when the night is gone and England yells and reprimands the feeling remains the same. He almost grins when England snarls about more taxes because it just proves that England doesn’t understand at all. When people fight against injustice their minds are not swayed by more injustice, indeed, their will grows ever stronger and the battle ever fiercer. They will not stop until their rights are given and now America is one of the ‘they’ (and if England had said I thought that was your favorite tea and you are my brother and why do you do this in that voice he might have faltered and thought of all his guardian had done for him and ignore any call from the other colonies to live in that way but that didn’t happen).
Massachusetts’ snarls his rage and America can understand, they all can. “That bastard , that complete-!” He can’t even finish his sentence and he ends up just fling up his hands as if to release his all encompassing rage. “To take my ports and my government and to accuse my people of miscarriage of justice when they have proved themselves so often. He thinks this will quiet me!”
Thirteen Voices Raised 3b/13
anonymous
October 20 2010, 16:04:29 UTC
America smiles, “I think that soon we will prove him wrong. I have heard from Virginia and New York and others. We will meet to fight this threat.” Massachusetts nods, falling back into his chair.
“Thank you, America. You are all I could have hoped and more-”
“Which is rather surprising but then you’ve always been rather over dramatic.” They both turn to see Rhode Island smirking at them from the doorway.
“What are you doing here,” Massachusetts groaned.
“So ungrateful, I’m delivering supplies ‘cause Conn is busy. Believe me, if I knew I was walking into this sickening love fest I would have waited.” America coughs and Massachusetts sighed but the mood is ruined. “Don’t worry,” Rhode Island continues, unmoved, “You’ll see each other soon enough. That’s the other thing I’m to tell you. Were meeting at Penn’s in September to talk about how much we hate England. Should be romantic.”
That isn’t quite how America would describe it. For one thing, Pennsylvania meets him at the door with a hug that goes on a little too long for a stranger. He then escorts America through the house, arm still wrapped firmly around him. For another, he had never considered what it would be like to sit with all the colonies together. They each yelled their ideas loudly and with no though of listening to one another apart to argue that the idea was bad. Old fights and new were brought up and argued about. Even the choice of meals was argued about. America was dragged from colony to colony; reassuring doubts, offering ideas, dealing with sneers, trying to explain his relationship to England, calming terrors.
The night was even worse. Pennsylvania had offered his house to room his fellow colonies and they had in no way been satisfied with the arguing already accomplished during the day. New Hampshire and New York fell to fist cuffs over the bed (which was already occupied by Connecticut); Rhode Island was driven to a righteous fury over the suggestion that he take the trundle, Pennsylvania instituted that Delaware sleep next to him, Mary and Virginia were having an argument over propriety which South Caroline should have been involved in but was ignoring in favor of hitting her brother. It was mess and unholy chaos and America couldn’t help but think of sharing a bed with nice, quiet, Canada. Still, it was a test to work together and one he must overcome.
He coughed loudly before shouting into the din, “Be Quiet!” A brief silence arose. “Virginia, Maryland, South Carolina and North, you take one bed. Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania and I shall take the other. Delaware and Rhode Island can share the cot and New Hampshire and Connecticut can sleep on the couch. Go!” The level of grumbling rose again steadily but he was surprised to find his orders being obeyed. New York gave him a wink.
“Looks like you really are one of them after all.” America could only fall to the bed. This day had been both one of the most exhausting and the most exhilarating of his life. Who knew, maybe the next day something would get done.
Author Anon
anonymous
October 20 2010, 22:55:22 UTC
Both Pennsylvania and Virginia will show up as well as Mass and a few others. For the last three hundred years America has dreamed of getting the colony/states to get work done and stop fighting each other. It's the only time he actually gets thrust into the rule of responsible person.
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 3b/13
anonymous
October 20 2010, 22:58:39 UTC
I have to say that I was pretty much done with Hetalia except for random checks of the meme but you've dragged me back in. The colonies were awesome, America was LOVE and the plotline seemed both historically accurate and well paced. I can't wait to see America interact more with all the other colonies (I admit I have a special love in my heart for NY and VA) and will be constantly checking for an update. A truly great story. Bravo!
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 3b/13
anonymous
October 21 2010, 01:57:21 UTC
This fic is great! I love how the colonies all vie for America's attention (it seems reasonable to think that this behavior is why present day is how it is). Wonderful story, can't wait to see what happens next!
Thirteen Voices Raised 4a/13
anonymous
October 21 2010, 14:44:16 UTC
iv.
America didn’t fire a shot at either Lexington or Concord. He was there, alright. He was there and he hid and watched as militiamen fought against redcoats and for the first time he saw Americans and Britons. Not quarrelsome children fighting against their distinguished parent but people in their own right who deserved to be free. For the first time he thought of not being America, England’s ragged colony but America, the bold nation overcome by outside forces. It was a heady feeling and he walked in a daze behind his own soldiers (he had never really had soldiers and it makes him feel old all of a sudden). He is stirred from these thoughts when Massachusetts jostles his arm. The colony is grass stained and tired but happy. “Bet he’ll have a reaction to this,” he says and America can only nod.
America doesn’t bother going back to his house to see exactly what kind of reaction England is going to have (he can’t put that moments feeling into words and until he can he cannot see England). Instead he goes to stay with Pennsylvania. He reads newspapers and books and speeches and can feel his germ of an idea hardening with each word. At other times he joins Pennsylvania at meetings where they can hear the words in the flesh of his people. Some days he longs to be in Boston helping fight the siege but he cannot be tied down where England can find him if this (and despite everything he still can’t say what ‘this’ really is even in his head) is going to work.
Still, he is relieved to see Massachusetts looking much the same ever, if a bit rumpled, when he arrives with the other colonies for congress. To be honest, the colonies are no better at working together this congress than at the last. But now America can bet the one who takes charge. He works as a go between to the (hishishis) people, splits up the colonies to work in committees and drafts words for a faint chance of peace. He can feel himself in ways he never has. During the French-Indian war he spent most of his time alternating between afraid, confused and hurt. He felt deaths, not battle, and failure, not victory. This one is his war and he feels everything, he wonders if this should scare him.
Then congress is over and he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Some days he follows the cannons towards their new homes. He walks along beside New York. The air is cold and their breaths turn to puffs of mist but he doesn’t think that either of them feels the cold. “I’ve been in war before,” New York says one day, “Back before I lived with England. I was the one who took over New Sweden, ya know, Connecticut is still angry about that. This is better. This is us.” They hold hands for the rest of that day. Other times he follows Virginia as she shows off her people to him. Some days she acts like Washington is her personal gift to him. Some days she holds him when he shakes with sobs that don’t come out in tears. Then there are New Hampshire and Massachusetts and South Maryland all the rest who want to show him what they’re doing and what they’ve done for him. This is what scares him.
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 4b/13
anonymous
October 21 2010, 14:46:29 UTC
“I don’t think that there is any chance for peaceful resolution,” Pennsylvania says one day.
“What do you mean?” America asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. They’re leaning back to back on the sofa (After seeing this, New Hampshire said it reminded him of a portrait of twins. Blond hair mixes with blond hair and two pairs of blue eyes blink back. America is pretty sure that Penn used to look older than him and he wonders now what round faced Canada would look like next to him).
“Well we’ve had land battles and that sea battle the wretched boy keeps crowing about and we’ve fought those with a united army and navy (more or less). The loyalists are leaving and Americans are figuring out their future.”
“Yes,” America agrees voice still painfully neutral.
“Well, whatever England says to our petition and there is really only one thing he’s going to say we’re doing it. We’re becoming a country. There is not turning back.”
America feels frozen. This is what ‘this’ has been and it’s still almost impossible for him to wrap his mind around it; a full out rebellion against the British Empire. Not just British citizens fighting for their rights as such but American citizens fighting for independence. He’s thought it before it moments and bright flashes but hearing it from someone else makes it real. He doesn’t say anything and they sit together in the growing dark. He knows, though, that something is going to happen.
This is a pretty short chapter. Next independence! and quite a lot of making out
Thirteen Voices Raised 5/13
anonymous
October 21 2010, 15:42:15 UTC
v.
When it happens its bigger then he could have ever imagined. America knew it was coming. He had heard the arguing, watch the man he had called king try to suppress him, and, of course, knew his own heart. Still. Still, it was unexpected. Independence! To have those men who had become so important to him agree that he was right was breathtaking. He slumped to his seat in the back of the room unable to meet Adams smile. It took him sometime to stager back to the room where the colonies were waiting to announce the news.
They knew already, of course. Half of them immediately declared themselves the deciding factor that had set him free. The rest were split between wild celebration and lingering doubts. “It’s about time,” Rhode Island added, “really, if you’re going to be so slow about everything this war will be over before you’ve managed to define your feelings toward England.” He’s smiling, though, instead of smirking and he leans up and kisses him. It’s a bit surprising and America jerks back and now Rhode Island is smirking, “Hey, I thought that was how we were declaring support.”
“Seems good to me,” Pennsylvania adds (and he must have moved fast because last time America saw him he was explaining to Delaware how he had pretty much allowed everything to happen) and wow.
(“See, you should have been nicer to Quakers. They seem to have the best definition of kissing.” “I’m sure that’s breaking several public decency laws.”)
“Me too,” New York adds and America wheels around and kisses him. That’s when things go a bit tactile.
Later, they eat dinner together and America’s blush still hasn’t faded (the fact that North Carolina is basically lying in his lap doesn’t help). “I think that we might have to be a bit worried about a group of people who can’t declare war until a year after it has started,” Virginia says. Maryland laughs and feeds her another piece of crab but Delaware nods.
“What would they have done if the war was over, declare it anyway just so we’d know what happened.”
“That’s what I thought America was gonna do,” Rhode Island chimes in. Massachusetts snorts and sends Connecticut a quick look. As one they shove the small colony under the table and pull New Hampshire, who had been returning to his seat, into the now open chair. Pennsylvania, who had already loosened his waistcoat, sighed in contentment at this new foot rest. South Carolina, who had been watching her brother in not particularly well disguised jealously, had taken America’s moments distraction to lean on him as well.
America hasn’t thought about England or the war or anything for hours. He wonders how he could say ‘thank you.’ But then, he thinks they might already know.
very short in between chapter. Next time: lots of New York
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 5/13
anonymous
October 21 2010, 23:51:58 UTC
Author!anon, I love this fill. So, so much. It's just... wow :) I'm at a loss, surprisingly xD Haha! Anyway, I happen to be a northern Delaware!anon, and frankly, it's kind of awesome that Delaware's gotten, like, more than two mentions. It's actually really great, you know? Even if this has the thirteen colonies and Delaware kind of has to be in here at some point, still. You get my gist that Delaware is normally forgotten. Being the first state does pretty much nothing for us.
Keep up the good work and I definitely look forward to more!
Thirteen Voices Raised 6a/13
anonymous
October 24 2010, 18:45:47 UTC
vi.
Things change after this and they do not. The war goes on but now America dress in uniform and follows New York to the fight. Maryland is there and a few others also but America stays with New York and together they watch as England’s ships gather through the long days. Sometimes he caught sight of Maryland or Delaware making their own preparations and it strikes him that he isn’t just helping New York, the American army is here to defend its own.
The attack is nothing like America expected (except in his nightmares). They are woken in the night to the confusion of an attack. The British are on both sides and, it seems, everywhere else as well. He strikes out but can’t tell whether it’s toward friend or foe. He stands helpless watching everything crashing apart until New York grabs him and they run. They end up in New Jersey’s house (the man groans and sneers and helps them bandage every wound). They stay there for a short time. America heals quickly but New York’s cuts are deeper and his soul more inflamed. His face stays unmoving during New Jersey’s reading of Pennsylvania’s forced cheerful letter full of England’s rage at finding them gone and no full causality list.
They left New Jersey’s house soon and then came the seemingly meaningless battles. They were driven out of New York again and then pushed back at the British for honor. They won and lost and both did nothing in the end. New York’s temper grew fouler and America spent half his time trying to avoid him. This is how he meets England’s face to face for the first time.
It was after the fire (burns remained on New York’s face and however snappy the colony had become if America had found the culprit, English or not, he did not think he could help himself form violence) as they fled ever on before England’s men. America was away from the camps; away from where he should have been, almost approaching where he knew England to be. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for England and what he would say if he found him but he didn’t. Instead he came across a very different country.
In appearance he was small, looking younger than some of America’s drummer boys, and pale. America recognized him for what he was almost immediately (and how long ago was it now when he had been so surprised to recognize New York and Virginia in his orchard) but did not turn away. Instead he approached. He was almost next to him when the boy finally looked up and his presence seemed to shock the other. He tumbled back before managing to stumble to his feet and wave a threatening fist at him. In other circumstance America might laugh at a child’s daring but now he can’t help but feel sad at the countries circumstances, “What are you? What are you doing here?” He asks, letting no trace of mockery into his tone.
Thirteen Voices Raised 6b/13
anonymous
October 24 2010, 18:47:19 UTC
“I,” the boy announces proudly, “am the Holy Roman Empire. Inheritor of Rome’s legacy,” He sags tiredly and adds, “and I’m standing in for my brother. You’re America,” he continues, voice sure. America nods. “I thought so. I’m much older than you, you know, and you’re bigger and now I’m helping England fight against you.”
“Why?”
The self proclaimed Empire shrugs, “Money most likely, I’m always needing more money, Austria was always lecturing me-” He seems about to go off on some tangent of memory and America quickly interrupts.
“I meant, why are you so young if you’re an empire?” A shrug is all the answer he gets for a long while and America’s thinking about going away (this is the enemy after all) when he final answers.
“I don’t really know,” he hunches his shoulders, “I don’t really know a lot about this at all. Probably because there were too many of me; Hesse and Switz and Italy, oh Italy, and stuff.” He brightens rather mean spiritedly at this. “You’ll be the same even if you do get away this, not that you will. Fighting for your brothers as they control everything…”
America leaves at this. He feels angrier than ever before and that night he curls unable to sleep consumed with the other’s words. They don’t meet again until after White Plains (another defeat, of course, and really they all seem this way and he can understand New York’s anguish he can he even he hides his greater pain at not bleeding at the fights as the colony does). Then it’s from far away after the battle, both sides still lurk licking wounds, as a searched for flash of black with that familiar fair hair.
After that he tries to put it out of his head. They lose a fort and abandon another and if these aren’t times in which a man’s soul is tried he doesn’t know what could be. And it’s Christmas which seems to make everything worse. If the lord was born this year, America thinks blackly, they could offer even worse accommodation than a dry stable. It’s Washington who makes it better.
He was lurking with New Jersey, neither able to think of anything to say, when New Delaware arrived with the news. America bitterly asked whether there was yet another defeat he had yet to be informed of but Delaware was unabashed. “More like a Christmas feast for this damned army. We’re attacking with surprise to take the Hessen bastards!” The ride was as icy-cold as America had imagined the deepest pit of Hell but he was sure he wasn’t the only one who could feel deep inner warmth. The damned Hessen troops were come upon by surprise sure enough as was the boy who America gleefully shoved to the ground.
They exchanged no words but as grey eyes met blue America was sure that the message came through true and strong. I will win and then deal what comes after. The boy snorted and twisted away and America lets him going with one last handful of snow to the back of the neck.
Later, he sits with New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware that night, sharing bottles of purloined beer and exaggerated stories of their success. America is warm and happy and at that moment feels as if he could fight against the creator himself. For now, it is enough.
sorry about the delay, my notes for the story were all deleted. The next part will hopefully arrive soon
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 6b/13
anonymous
October 25 2010, 01:27:09 UTC
Woah! You wrote a bunch! This is awesome. I totally wasn't expecting Holy Roman Empire to make an appearance, but it totally worked. I guess France is going to be showing up too. I wonder if he'll try something and the States will get jealous... Hm, America doesn't bleed at the battles but NY does... I guess he still has a way to go before he truly becomes The United States. Hah! I anoned this time!
Britain returns, bad mood fully intact, and America finds it hard to hide his smile. He can just imagine Britain’s face if he ever saw New York’s letter (which was almost written in code the hand writing is so bad making it almost worth it to have stayed in school so long because at least his writing is legible) saying bet he’ll be pissy for ages now that you look like you might be able to stand up to him. He can just imagine Britain’s face if he finds any of the letters and suddenly he finds it much easier to hide his smile.
He’s about to ask about Canada when Britain interrupts, “So. You want to deal with the colonies do you.” America would point out that that’s not exactly what he was saying but he’s seen this kind of mood before and he knows it would do no good. “Come with me, this might give you something to think about.” They move together and when America opens his eyes Massachusetts gives him a wink. Britain glares for a moment before sweeping, every line of his body filled with dignity. Massachusetts immediately grabbed America’s arm.
“Good to see you. I was hoping you might come here. Remember that this is about justice which should be fair no matter how annoy the victim might be. Though honestly, either way this is going to be worth every minute.” America thinks he should probably mention he has no clue what is going on but Mass talking resembles nothing so much as a steam roller and any attempt in digging up old topics will only result in smashed fragments. “This is Connecticut,” he says, gesturing to young man with Massachusetts’ dark hair, a familiar round face and small smile. He lowers his voice slightly and adds, “We’ll talk again later.”
America was prepared to be very open minded, especially since the victim was the first colony he met that actually looked younger than him. On the other hand he looks sixteen times smugger than he’s ever seen New York and is wearing an oversized hat. America joins Britain who’s sitting glaring at the boy. “Rhode Island, this is your last chance. Tell me what you know.”
The boy paused for a long moment, “Sorry old fellow, I don’t have a clue what happened. Things like this just happen you know.” For a second America thinks Britain is going to strangle the colony but he restrains himself to yelling. It all seems to boil down accusations of smuggling and abandonment and disrespect and people who don’t deserve respect. America finds the whole thing rather boring and he wonders if this is supposed to make him back off but everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves even if in the end nothing seems to be really being said.
In the end the file out and America is, yet again, grabbed by Massachusetts who drags him in to a narrow side corridor. “What’d you think?” He asks.
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the historical event that appears in the background of the later part of this chapter is the Gaspee Affair. The song is here: http://www.gaspee.org/Song.html because it amuses me. Next time: tea parties, acts of intolerableness and Pennsylvania (+ others)
Reply
Can't wait for more <3
Reply
It’s been a long time since America last saw Massachusetts and he’s starting to feel like a coward. They’ve written letters (he’s written so many letters his neat letters are starting slope and glide because he doesn’t have time for neatness when he has to get his thoughts on paper at the very second) but they haven’t met face o face since before England left grumbling about ungrateful colonies. Besides, Boston feels restless (and he can actually feel it now, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t need England to go to where his people are bubbling).
Massachusetts clasps his arm in a quiet greeting; his hair sticks up in every direction. “England’s here,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the bay, “boat says they’re not leaving till we unload the damn tea.” America nods.
“What are we going to do?” Massachusetts beams but America just feels a deep determination. His feet still rebel from being sent down a certain path but he knows that things cannot remain as they are.
“I have gotten a little…inspiration from my dearest brother,” Mass says with a glint in his eye that makes him look nothing like England. That’s how America finds himself darkening his hair and painting his face as he exchanges whispered hisses about the state of affairs throughout the colonies. Before they set out Massachusetts draws him into a long embrace. America says nothing but as they head to the docks he is the one to reach for Mass’ hand.
The event itself is exhilarating beyond belief. America finds himself whooping loudly and joining in a contest to see who can throw a tea crate the farthest. He can imagine England’s reaction but for once it doesn’t curl his stomach and bring shameful tears to his eyes. He almost whishes that England would see him, free and unafraid, not wary of lectures or restrictions. He sees Massachusetts face lit with the same light and he wonders if this is what love feels like. Then he laughs and tosses in two crates at once; reveling in the cheers of his fellows.
Even later when the night is gone and England yells and reprimands the feeling remains the same. He almost grins when England snarls about more taxes because it just proves that England doesn’t understand at all. When people fight against injustice their minds are not swayed by more injustice, indeed, their will grows ever stronger and the battle ever fiercer. They will not stop until their rights are given and now America is one of the ‘they’ (and if England had said I thought that was your favorite tea and you are my brother and why do you do this in that voice he might have faltered and thought of all his guardian had done for him and ignore any call from the other colonies to live in that way but that didn’t happen).
Massachusetts’ snarls his rage and America can understand, they all can. “That bastard , that complete-!” He can’t even finish his sentence and he ends up just fling up his hands as if to release his all encompassing rage. “To take my ports and my government and to accuse my people of miscarriage of justice when they have proved themselves so often. He thinks this will quiet me!”
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“Thank you, America. You are all I could have hoped and more-”
“Which is rather surprising but then you’ve always been rather over dramatic.” They both turn to see Rhode Island smirking at them from the doorway.
“What are you doing here,” Massachusetts groaned.
“So ungrateful, I’m delivering supplies ‘cause Conn is busy. Believe me, if I knew I was walking into this sickening love fest I would have waited.” America coughs and Massachusetts sighed but the mood is ruined. “Don’t worry,” Rhode Island continues, unmoved, “You’ll see each other soon enough. That’s the other thing I’m to tell you. Were meeting at Penn’s in September to talk about how much we hate England. Should be romantic.”
That isn’t quite how America would describe it. For one thing, Pennsylvania meets him at the door with a hug that goes on a little too long for a stranger. He then escorts America through the house, arm still wrapped firmly around him. For another, he had never considered what it would be like to sit with all the colonies together. They each yelled their ideas loudly and with no though of listening to one another apart to argue that the idea was bad. Old fights and new were brought up and argued about. Even the choice of meals was argued about. America was dragged from colony to colony; reassuring doubts, offering ideas, dealing with sneers, trying to explain his relationship to England, calming terrors.
The night was even worse. Pennsylvania had offered his house to room his fellow colonies and they had in no way been satisfied with the arguing already accomplished during the day. New Hampshire and New York fell to fist cuffs over the bed (which was already occupied by Connecticut); Rhode Island was driven to a righteous fury over the suggestion that he take the trundle, Pennsylvania instituted that Delaware sleep next to him, Mary and Virginia were having an argument over propriety which South Caroline should have been involved in but was ignoring in favor of hitting her brother. It was mess and unholy chaos and America couldn’t help but think of sharing a bed with nice, quiet, Canada. Still, it was a test to work together and one he must overcome.
He coughed loudly before shouting into the din, “Be Quiet!” A brief silence arose. “Virginia, Maryland, South Carolina and North, you take one bed. Massachusetts, New York, Pennsylvania and I shall take the other. Delaware and Rhode Island can share the cot and New Hampshire and Connecticut can sleep on the couch. Go!” The level of grumbling rose again steadily but he was surprised to find his orders being obeyed. New York gave him a wink.
“Looks like you really are one of them after all.” America could only fall to the bed. This day had been both one of the most exhausting and the most exhilarating of his life. Who knew, maybe the next day something would get done.
next time: the Revolutionary War begins
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America didn’t fire a shot at either Lexington or Concord. He was there, alright. He was there and he hid and watched as militiamen fought against redcoats and for the first time he saw Americans and Britons. Not quarrelsome children fighting against their distinguished parent but people in their own right who deserved to be free. For the first time he thought of not being America, England’s ragged colony but America, the bold nation overcome by outside forces. It was a heady feeling and he walked in a daze behind his own soldiers (he had never really had soldiers and it makes him feel old all of a sudden). He is stirred from these thoughts when Massachusetts jostles his arm. The colony is grass stained and tired but happy. “Bet he’ll have a reaction to this,” he says and America can only nod.
America doesn’t bother going back to his house to see exactly what kind of reaction England is going to have (he can’t put that moments feeling into words and until he can he cannot see England). Instead he goes to stay with Pennsylvania. He reads newspapers and books and speeches and can feel his germ of an idea hardening with each word. At other times he joins Pennsylvania at meetings where they can hear the words in the flesh of his people. Some days he longs to be in Boston helping fight the siege but he cannot be tied down where England can find him if this (and despite everything he still can’t say what ‘this’ really is even in his head) is going to work.
Still, he is relieved to see Massachusetts looking much the same ever, if a bit rumpled, when he arrives with the other colonies for congress. To be honest, the colonies are no better at working together this congress than at the last. But now America can bet the one who takes charge. He works as a go between to the (hishishis) people, splits up the colonies to work in committees and drafts words for a faint chance of peace. He can feel himself in ways he never has. During the French-Indian war he spent most of his time alternating between afraid, confused and hurt. He felt deaths, not battle, and failure, not victory. This one is his war and he feels everything, he wonders if this should scare him.
Then congress is over and he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself. Some days he follows the cannons towards their new homes. He walks along beside New York. The air is cold and their breaths turn to puffs of mist but he doesn’t think that either of them feels the cold. “I’ve been in war before,” New York says one day, “Back before I lived with England. I was the one who took over New Sweden, ya know, Connecticut is still angry about that. This is better. This is us.” They hold hands for the rest of that day. Other times he follows Virginia as she shows off her people to him. Some days she acts like Washington is her personal gift to him. Some days she holds him when he shakes with sobs that don’t come out in tears. Then there are New Hampshire and Massachusetts and South Maryland all the rest who want to show him what they’re doing and what they’ve done for him. This is what scares him.
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“What do you mean?” America asks, trying to keep his voice neutral. They’re leaning back to back on the sofa (After seeing this, New Hampshire said it reminded him of a portrait of twins. Blond hair mixes with blond hair and two pairs of blue eyes blink back. America is pretty sure that Penn used to look older than him and he wonders now what round faced Canada would look like next to him).
“Well we’ve had land battles and that sea battle the wretched boy keeps crowing about and we’ve fought those with a united army and navy (more or less). The loyalists are leaving and Americans are figuring out their future.”
“Yes,” America agrees voice still painfully neutral.
“Well, whatever England says to our petition and there is really only one thing he’s going to say we’re doing it. We’re becoming a country. There is not turning back.”
America feels frozen. This is what ‘this’ has been and it’s still almost impossible for him to wrap his mind around it; a full out rebellion against the British Empire. Not just British citizens fighting for their rights as such but American citizens fighting for independence. He’s thought it before it moments and bright flashes but hearing it from someone else makes it real. He doesn’t say anything and they sit together in the growing dark. He knows, though, that something is going to happen.
This is a pretty short chapter. Next independence! and quite a lot of making out
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When it happens its bigger then he could have ever imagined. America knew it was coming. He had heard the arguing, watch the man he had called king try to suppress him, and, of course, knew his own heart. Still. Still, it was unexpected. Independence! To have those men who had become so important to him agree that he was right was breathtaking. He slumped to his seat in the back of the room unable to meet Adams smile. It took him sometime to stager back to the room where the colonies were waiting to announce the news.
They knew already, of course. Half of them immediately declared themselves the deciding factor that had set him free. The rest were split between wild celebration and lingering doubts. “It’s about time,” Rhode Island added, “really, if you’re going to be so slow about everything this war will be over before you’ve managed to define your feelings toward England.” He’s smiling, though, instead of smirking and he leans up and kisses him. It’s a bit surprising and America jerks back and now Rhode Island is smirking, “Hey, I thought that was how we were declaring support.”
“Seems good to me,” Pennsylvania adds (and he must have moved fast because last time America saw him he was explaining to Delaware how he had pretty much allowed everything to happen) and wow.
(“See, you should have been nicer to Quakers. They seem to have the best definition of kissing.” “I’m sure that’s breaking several public decency laws.”)
“Me too,” New York adds and America wheels around and kisses him. That’s when things go a bit tactile.
Later, they eat dinner together and America’s blush still hasn’t faded (the fact that North Carolina is basically lying in his lap doesn’t help). “I think that we might have to be a bit worried about a group of people who can’t declare war until a year after it has started,” Virginia says. Maryland laughs and feeds her another piece of crab but Delaware nods.
“What would they have done if the war was over, declare it anyway just so we’d know what happened.”
“That’s what I thought America was gonna do,” Rhode Island chimes in. Massachusetts snorts and sends Connecticut a quick look. As one they shove the small colony under the table and pull New Hampshire, who had been returning to his seat, into the now open chair. Pennsylvania, who had already loosened his waistcoat, sighed in contentment at this new foot rest. South Carolina, who had been watching her brother in not particularly well disguised jealously, had taken America’s moments distraction to lean on him as well.
America hasn’t thought about England or the war or anything for hours. He wonders how he could say ‘thank you.’ But then, he thinks they might already know.
very short in between chapter. Next time: lots of New York
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Keep up the good work and I definitely look forward to more!
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Things change after this and they do not. The war goes on but now America dress in uniform and follows New York to the fight. Maryland is there and a few others also but America stays with New York and together they watch as England’s ships gather through the long days. Sometimes he caught sight of Maryland or Delaware making their own preparations and it strikes him that he isn’t just helping New York, the American army is here to defend its own.
The attack is nothing like America expected (except in his nightmares). They are woken in the night to the confusion of an attack. The British are on both sides and, it seems, everywhere else as well. He strikes out but can’t tell whether it’s toward friend or foe. He stands helpless watching everything crashing apart until New York grabs him and they run. They end up in New Jersey’s house (the man groans and sneers and helps them bandage every wound). They stay there for a short time. America heals quickly but New York’s cuts are deeper and his soul more inflamed. His face stays unmoving during New Jersey’s reading of Pennsylvania’s forced cheerful letter full of England’s rage at finding them gone and no full causality list.
They left New Jersey’s house soon and then came the seemingly meaningless battles. They were driven out of New York again and then pushed back at the British for honor. They won and lost and both did nothing in the end. New York’s temper grew fouler and America spent half his time trying to avoid him. This is how he meets England’s face to face for the first time.
It was after the fire (burns remained on New York’s face and however snappy the colony had become if America had found the culprit, English or not, he did not think he could help himself form violence) as they fled ever on before England’s men. America was away from the camps; away from where he should have been, almost approaching where he knew England to be. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for England and what he would say if he found him but he didn’t. Instead he came across a very different country.
In appearance he was small, looking younger than some of America’s drummer boys, and pale. America recognized him for what he was almost immediately (and how long ago was it now when he had been so surprised to recognize New York and Virginia in his orchard) but did not turn away. Instead he approached. He was almost next to him when the boy finally looked up and his presence seemed to shock the other. He tumbled back before managing to stumble to his feet and wave a threatening fist at him. In other circumstance America might laugh at a child’s daring but now he can’t help but feel sad at the countries circumstances, “What are you? What are you doing here?” He asks, letting no trace of mockery into his tone.
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“Why?”
The self proclaimed Empire shrugs, “Money most likely, I’m always needing more money, Austria was always lecturing me-” He seems about to go off on some tangent of memory and America quickly interrupts.
“I meant, why are you so young if you’re an empire?” A shrug is all the answer he gets for a long while and America’s thinking about going away (this is the enemy after all) when he final answers.
“I don’t really know,” he hunches his shoulders, “I don’t really know a lot about this at all. Probably because there were too many of me; Hesse and Switz and Italy, oh Italy, and stuff.” He brightens rather mean spiritedly at this. “You’ll be the same even if you do get away this, not that you will. Fighting for your brothers as they control everything…”
America leaves at this. He feels angrier than ever before and that night he curls unable to sleep consumed with the other’s words. They don’t meet again until after White Plains (another defeat, of course, and really they all seem this way and he can understand New York’s anguish he can he even he hides his greater pain at not bleeding at the fights as the colony does). Then it’s from far away after the battle, both sides still lurk licking wounds, as a searched for flash of black with that familiar fair hair.
After that he tries to put it out of his head. They lose a fort and abandon another and if these aren’t times in which a man’s soul is tried he doesn’t know what could be. And it’s Christmas which seems to make everything worse. If the lord was born this year, America thinks blackly, they could offer even worse accommodation than a dry stable. It’s Washington who makes it better.
He was lurking with New Jersey, neither able to think of anything to say, when New Delaware arrived with the news. America bitterly asked whether there was yet another defeat he had yet to be informed of but Delaware was unabashed. “More like a Christmas feast for this damned army. We’re attacking with surprise to take the Hessen bastards!” The ride was as icy-cold as America had imagined the deepest pit of Hell but he was sure he wasn’t the only one who could feel deep inner warmth. The damned Hessen troops were come upon by surprise sure enough as was the boy who America gleefully shoved to the ground.
They exchanged no words but as grey eyes met blue America was sure that the message came through true and strong. I will win and then deal what comes after. The boy snorted and twisted away and America lets him going with one last handful of snow to the back of the neck.
Later, he sits with New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania and Delaware that night, sharing bottles of purloined beer and exaggerated stories of their success. America is warm and happy and at that moment feels as if he could fight against the creator himself. For now, it is enough.
sorry about the delay, my notes for the story were all deleted. The next part will hopefully arrive soon
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I guess France is going to be showing up too. I wonder if he'll try something and the States will get jealous...
Hm, America doesn't bleed at the battles but NY does... I guess he still has a way to go before he truly becomes The United States.
Hah! I anoned this time!
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