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!
So sorry it's taken me so long to reply to this again and having missed so many chapters. Life has been a bit of a mess lately. Still loving this a lot. The interplay between the states and America and how America keeps growing stronger. Love the inclusion of HRE very nice. Can't wait to see if other nations (like France or Prussia) will make an appearance and the state's reaction to them.
Its fine, I'm glad you still like it. I was actually wondering if after this is done you would like to read America's (+ the states) fighting in the Civil War
Thirteen Voices Raised 7/13
anonymous
November 3 2010, 05:15:49 UTC
vii.
They’ve won a battle and win the next one and the one after that too. New Jersey spins into America’s arms and whispers ‘he’s gone,’ through their kiss. America has become used to the colonies constant touches (though he still wonders about them sometimes, it really shows they weren’t raised by England) and he laughs and dances with him. New Jersey and Pennsylvania go together to harass the British and come back laughing with many tales to tell around the campfire. America is happy; he hopes the tide is turning. The war doesn’t stop for small victories nor change for hopes.
England and the boy sneak back and steal his garrison. Then America has to leave his own fort to the sound of England’s approaching footsteps and it hurts the something fresh in new inside of him that is growing inside of him and that makes him angry. When England sweeps down on his retreating men it gets even worse. England has the higher ground but he stands and fights with New Hampshire at his back. They lose (and that hurts even more because something deep inside of him thinks that hard work sure mean victory not defeat and he has been working oh so hard) but England’s hurt too. They run away and this time they are not pursued.
Washington is a genius. Sometimes America wondered how much luck he used up getting him. Back when he was a child England used to tell him stories of his great men who would rise up and save him when the need was great but America never imagined having some of his very own. General Washington, though, is everything he could have wanted and so much more than he ever thought he would need. If he had a choice he would stay with him all the time but his people call to him and he goes. That’s how he ends up at Oriskany.
It’s horrible. Too many people are him. England also used to tell him about Civil Wars and he thinks he might have a taste of what it feels like. There are his soldiers and Oneida’s people (and it feels very strange to be working with him) on the outside trying to help the pain of his people inside the fort and he feels the blood they shed. Then, though, there are the others. The people who are the him that sometimes thinks that leaving Britain was a horrible idea and he should just go back and ignore the trouble makers. The him that comes into his head late at night when he can’t sleep and whispers, whispers always whispers whywhywhywhywhy and America wants to rip his head apart because it hurts and it doesn’t stop. Then the blackness comes.
America wakes up to New York’s worried face ten days later and another battle fought. He lies still as New York tells gives him New Hampshire and Massachusetts’ reports though his voice is very soft when he confirms that Canada was fighting with England. America does nothing remarkable. He feels different, whole. In that time of darkness he accepted his decision and everyone else can go hang themselves. He rubs his arm where the latest battle has left a small cut. Sometimes victory has a price.
This new resolution sharps into an iron tip as Philadelphia falls. Even now he’s deemed too weak to participate in fighting so he holds Pennsylvania during the Paoli massacre and pretends not to hear his muffled sobs as England claims Philadelphia. His heart burns too as his capital falls but it can’t be anything like what Pennsylvania is feeling. He remembers the house he spent his early months in and its Penn’s turn to ignore tears. “The people will rise for this,” he promises, “they will.”
Thirteen Voices Raised 7b/13
anonymous
November 3 2010, 05:18:27 UTC
Then there is Saratoga. Saratoga is war at every level and it thrills him despite himself. He wants to hate war and he does, sometimes. America’s sure he used to hate it back when it shook him and he didn’t understand but he fights now and it gives him a power that nothing else does. He’s exhilarated and terrified by turns and both of them are like a drug or drink and pull him on while numbing his senses. He sees them all together England, Canada and Holy Roman Empire. Brothers and Stranger, all of them enemies. He doesn’t care.
Victory is even better. America has won battles before but this feels like he’s won the whole damn war. The British are cut off and retreating (and oh god does he remember retreating, retreating, retreating for endless miles and he has no sympathy for the enemy) and the general surrenders and the world is bright. For the first time he wishes he would see England even if only to laugh in his face because ha. That day it seems as if all news is good: France is coming.
France arrives with his usual panache and America would laugh at his clothes (how long has it been since he’s removed his own) but he’s too busy clinging to him like the child he isn’t, anymore, to bother. France rocks him back and forth and runs his fingers through his hair and at that moment America would do anything for him. He looks up to try to express his love and gratitude in words and can’t. Instead he leans forward and kisses France trying to reach him with his soul. That is another good day.
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 7b/13
anonymous
November 3 2010, 14:43:07 UTC
Have I told you lately that I love you? The relationship dynamics in this are really fascinating. lol I kind of wonder what France thought of that kiss. It strikes me that even though America is going around kissing a bunch of people, the way that he does it, or thinks about it, is kind of innocent. Kind of makes me wonder how European powers treat relationships, or alliances or whatever. Oh and battles are starting to hurt him! You're getting there America! Oh dear, Valley Forge. Not pleasant.
thanks, it's actually a bit different than my usual writing voice though i do love abusing parenthesis. Once this is finished (4 more parts + epilogue) i'm going to post the civil war piece under anything-goes-historical
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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Really am enjoying this, thank you!
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I think you accidentally deanoned...
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They’ve won a battle and win the next one and the one after that too. New Jersey spins into America’s arms and whispers ‘he’s gone,’ through their kiss. America has become used to the colonies constant touches (though he still wonders about them sometimes, it really shows they weren’t raised by England) and he laughs and dances with him. New Jersey and Pennsylvania go together to harass the British and come back laughing with many tales to tell around the campfire. America is happy; he hopes the tide is turning. The war doesn’t stop for small victories nor change for hopes.
England and the boy sneak back and steal his garrison. Then America has to leave his own fort to the sound of England’s approaching footsteps and it hurts the something fresh in new inside of him that is growing inside of him and that makes him angry. When England sweeps down on his retreating men it gets even worse. England has the higher ground but he stands and fights with New Hampshire at his back. They lose (and that hurts even more because something deep inside of him thinks that hard work sure mean victory not defeat and he has been working oh so hard) but England’s hurt too. They run away and this time they are not pursued.
Washington is a genius. Sometimes America wondered how much luck he used up getting him. Back when he was a child England used to tell him stories of his great men who would rise up and save him when the need was great but America never imagined having some of his very own. General Washington, though, is everything he could have wanted and so much more than he ever thought he would need. If he had a choice he would stay with him all the time but his people call to him and he goes. That’s how he ends up at Oriskany.
It’s horrible. Too many people are him. England also used to tell him about Civil Wars and he thinks he might have a taste of what it feels like. There are his soldiers and Oneida’s people (and it feels very strange to be working with him) on the outside trying to help the pain of his people inside the fort and he feels the blood they shed. Then, though, there are the others. The people who are the him that sometimes thinks that leaving Britain was a horrible idea and he should just go back and ignore the trouble makers. The him that comes into his head late at night when he can’t sleep and whispers, whispers always whispers whywhywhywhywhy and America wants to rip his head apart because it hurts and it doesn’t stop. Then the blackness comes.
America wakes up to New York’s worried face ten days later and another battle fought. He lies still as New York tells gives him New Hampshire and Massachusetts’ reports though his voice is very soft when he confirms that Canada was fighting with England. America does nothing remarkable. He feels different, whole. In that time of darkness he accepted his decision and everyone else can go hang themselves. He rubs his arm where the latest battle has left a small cut. Sometimes victory has a price.
This new resolution sharps into an iron tip as Philadelphia falls. Even now he’s deemed too weak to participate in fighting so he holds Pennsylvania during the Paoli massacre and pretends not to hear his muffled sobs as England claims Philadelphia. His heart burns too as his capital falls but it can’t be anything like what Pennsylvania is feeling. He remembers the house he spent his early months in and its Penn’s turn to ignore tears. “The people will rise for this,” he promises, “they will.”
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Victory is even better. America has won battles before but this feels like he’s won the whole damn war. The British are cut off and retreating (and oh god does he remember retreating, retreating, retreating for endless miles and he has no sympathy for the enemy) and the general surrenders and the world is bright. For the first time he wishes he would see England even if only to laugh in his face because ha. That day it seems as if all news is good: France is coming.
France arrives with his usual panache and America would laugh at his clothes (how long has it been since he’s removed his own) but he’s too busy clinging to him like the child he isn’t, anymore, to bother. France rocks him back and forth and runs his fingers through his hair and at that moment America would do anything for him. He looks up to try to express his love and gratitude in words and can’t. Instead he leans forward and kisses France trying to reach him with his soul. That is another good day.
I really hate midterms. Next time: Valley Forge
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The relationship dynamics in this are really fascinating.
lol I kind of wonder what France thought of that kiss. It strikes me that even though America is going around kissing a bunch of people, the way that he does it, or thinks about it, is kind of innocent. Kind of makes me wonder how European powers treat relationships, or alliances or whatever.
Oh and battles are starting to hurt him! You're getting there America!
Oh dear, Valley Forge. Not pleasant.
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And I don't think I ever replied back (bad OP bad) but I would love to see a follow up with the states and the Civil War.
LOVES.
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