Thirteen Voices Raised 8b/13
anonymous
November 4 2010, 14:34:36 UTC
America is standing with New York and Penn when the country marches up to them (and it most definitely is a march). “So, your America,” he says, “I’ve heard about you from my big bro.”
“Brother?” America asks, wondering if France has a younger brother whose impending visit he had failed to mention.
“Yeah, short kid: wears black, a stupid hat and the name empire. Can tell he hasn’t seen his girlfriend for a long time.”
“Older?” America has to ask. The stranger laughs.
“First lesson: things aren’t always as they look; in fact they’re often not.” That’s the first lesson and the only one without pain. America has never drilled before. The endless marching hurts his legs, the shooting makes his shoulder ache and he throbs from bruises. Super strength doesn’t stop bruises for any of them.
Then, worse, was the fact he was really bad. It was no comfort that Penn and New York were just as bad. Conneticut and Rhode Island forgot their usual distaste for each other and instead sat together laughing (sometimes joined by Maryland and Delaware and damn them all for looking so young). The nights were better.
Occasionally he would spend it with France. They would talk about European ideas that he had been fighting for yet didn’t understand or the treaty that was being forged between them or, sometimes, America would lie with his head in France’s lap as the older nation ran a hand through his hair and told him French stories from long ago. These nights are beautiful and during the day if America thinks about them his stomach clenches and his face turns red and Prussia usually end up yelling at him for some stupid mistake. Nights with the states are different.
He never means to have a night with the states they just happen. New York and Pennsylvania return to his tent (his special tent that Washington gave to him especially so he could be alone) and the sit and drink together before falling back on his bed. Then they are joined by Rhode Island who complains that he’s cold and Connecticut who says nothing but curls against America’s chest and sticks his hand on America’s neck. It isn’t like the conversation is any good either.
“Learning the arts of love from France, I hear,” Penn says one night, with a chuckle that sounds frightenly of Prussia. Before America has a chance to object or explain Rhode Island interjects cheerfully,
“I wish I were.” There is silence for a few moments.
“If you were human you would be such a poxy whore,” New York says reflectively
“If you were human you would be executed, you hands-y sodimite,” Rhode Island returns matching tone for tone. And it’s about then that America has to threaten to throw them out into the snow if they start hitting each other while Penn laughs and Conn offers money for both if they would hit each other while Mary wraps her arms tighter around him while Penn chuckles. Nothing embarrasses him now (except for that one time when Washington came to get him from his tent and found him curled in a mass of limbs with Connecticut’s’ hands, which are very cold, having slipped down during the night to rest on his thigh and oh is he glad the man he thinks the world of says nothing to bring crash him down) so he laughs too. The winter is hard but he spends it wrapped in love and that can make many things easier to bear.
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 8b/13
anonymous
November 4 2010, 19:40:31 UTC
w00t! Another update! Okay, I was wondering how the states were seeing all the affection between them. Apparently America is the only oblivious one. I'm kinda surprised France hasn't made a move on America (or at least one that made it through America's naivete) but the way he treats him makes me think that maybe he reminds him of Canada so he treats him like a son. Altho I totally want him to walk in on one of the States night. I'm sure he would extremely amused by it. And, aw Washington.
Thirteen Voices Raised 9a/13
anonymous
November 5 2010, 15:20:25 UTC
ix.
America thinks he’s starting to lose track of time. He’s strong and disciplined and no longer wants to hit Prussia in the face quite as much and its shown in the battles he’s fought but the old feeling of endless time during battles is gone. Now it’s like time is racing away from him. He’s the best he’s ever been and he has to win now before he falls back down that endless slope to the monsters of despair that lurk below. Between fights the time moves even faster. It’s like he blinks his eyes and two years have passed of wonderful victories and freezing winters and he knows now where he is needed. The north is free. Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, all of them are free or doing well enough. England has left them behind to strike at a different target and he must follow. Plus, he hasn’t seen South Carolina since the second congress.
The first thing that happens when America walks into (or sidles into but that isn’t exactly the type of action he wants) South Carolina’s house is that he sees England face to face for the first time in years. The other nation hasn’t changed much. His eyes are still green, his uniform is still neat and his eyebrows still appear to be on the verge of taking over the rest of his face. America isn’t quite sure what to do; fight or flee seem the only options and he is so tired of both. England makes the first move, “Hello, America,” he says, sounding like America’s just popped in for tea after a long ride, “I thought I would see you here. I have a proposition for you.”
“What is it?” He asks.
“Supper with the family,” England smirks at his shocked look, “what, I never got the chance to sit down with all of you at once for a nice meal.” His face is bland now and America has no idea what he’s planning and can only agree, words feeling awkward in his mouth.
“I would love to.”
By the time dinner arrives, America still has no idea what’s going on. He had spent the day wandering the city; the siege is much as he expected and he doesn’t catch a whiff of any of the states. He learns why at supper. It turns out England had really meant when he said he wanted a family supper. All the south is there: North Carolina wearing his Sunday best gives America smile before focusing back on his plate, South Carolina looks angry but beautiful, Virginia caress his face and whispers “you look different,” before seating herself with a ladylike swish of seats. Then England sweeps in with two unfamiliar children and America figures it out.
Thirteen Voices Raised 9b/13
anonymous
November 5 2010, 15:27:42 UTC
The first, and last, time he had seen he had been under British control and she had been a babe in arms. He had poked at her once, slightly awed by the sight of a baby colony, before going back to his play. Now she looked almost as old as Maryland with England green eyes that reminded America painfully of his own long ago childhood. The other is a boy he’s never seen before with a darkness of features reminiscent of Spain and those same eyes. It makes America’s heart hurt to see them.
If any of the other states were there (states who remembered his collapse and still worried, even now, for his ability to face England and fight) they would probably try to get him to leave. They would be worried for no reason. He remembers loving England, he remembers England being everything, but he’s made his choice and he doesn’t regret it. He’s felt more alive these past few years then he ever has before. He does not regret the innocence of his youth but he does not regret it.
The super is very quiet. South Carolina makes several sharp remarks to England that fly over the children’s heads and Georgia is induced to babble about her home before remembering her demureness and looking back down. Under the table Virginia takes his hand and rests the other one on North Carolina’s knee (he gets a flash of gratitude for that). Things don’t get going until after super.
They’re all together in the parlor drinking tea (and damn it all but America does like coffee more) when the first out and out mention of the war is made. Its Georgia, young but growing and unsure Georgia, who says it. America had just told her that he had seen her as a baby and she said, “I’ve seen you before too.”
“Really,” he asks, unsure of what she means.
“Oh yes, I saw you back when you were fighting with Mr. England, it was just outside my house, you know.” England’s knuckles go white on his cup and America chooses he’s words carefully.
“I was only here very briefly to speak with a friend of mine. I didn’t realize you were there.” England interrupts them then.
“Battles are no subject for a young lady to speak of, especially one who should be in bed.” Georgia blushes and apologizes and America knows he should stop but he doesn’t.
“Do you know what we were fighting about? Freedom, mine and yours too. Think about it Georgia, your government agrees with me.” Florida snorts and England looks like he would descend into profanity if not for the mixed company but Georgia’s eyes have a spark and America knows he’s won this round.
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 9b/13
anonymous
November 6 2010, 21:43:18 UTC
England, I don't know what you thought that dinner would do, but it clearly failed. It's a little too late for that. This chapter made me feel kind of bad for Arthur because he's all trying to emphasize that they're family. But at the same time I'm not sure how much of it is just him trying to manipulate America and the colonies. And, again, England if you wanted to work this out peacefully you should have tried a whole lot earlier when the colonies were trying to talk to you. Anyways, wow, we're getting close to done aren't we? I will be sad when I don't see the updates for this anymore.
Thirteen Voices Raised 10a/13
anonymous
November 7 2010, 14:20:24 UTC
x.
America’s glee at England’s loss of face in front of his loyal colonies (and it was a loss of face even if America was the only one who saw the anger) doesn’t last long. He’s gotten used to winning battles, or losing but causing damage and running. Waxhaws is hard. He dies two times that day. The first he is trampled under the hooves of the cavalry horses (and, oh, how he hates fighting men on horseback). His neck shatters. He wakes in Virginia’s arms. She’s covered in blood, quite a lot of it hers. The second time comes mere minutes later when he is stabbed through the stomach as he lies there aching. Next time he wakes it’s in a makeshift hospital with Virginia holding his hand.
“How long has it been?” He asks.
“Two days,” her voice is wooden. America has died before (quite a few times, actually, he isn’t the most careful of nations) from sickness and injures but he still remembers the first time. It had been on one of England’s early fists and he had been showing off for his new guardian. He had demanded close attention as he showed how good he was a climbing the oak tree. When he woke up five days had passed and he received his first lecture on what it meant to be a nation. “The flag raised,” Virginia continues, “They killed surrendered men,” emotions had slowly seeped back.
Suddenly he realizes her hand is shaking. America can’t tell if the shaking was from pain or anger (though he knows the quiet stillness that lies like block of ice in his own heart is pure anger, stronger than he’s ever felt before). Whatever her feelings he holds her hand mutely as it shakes regaining strength. When she stops he pushes himself up (ever so slowly because his stomach hurts) and kisses her. It’s different than any of the kisses they’ve shared before. It’s not in agreement or joy or victory but from pain and in that moment he thinks that he understands what Massachusetts was saying. Then she pulls back.
“You’re stomach is bleeding again,” she says and starts bustling around him in a very professional fashion, switching bandages and lecturing him on sudden movements. “Sleep,” she says finally and leaves with a final caress of his face. That night America dreams of England slicing open his stomach with a saber and pulling out his intestines which he eats as the gathered states watch silently. He wakes up in the morning completely healed.
America’s sense of time seems to have reversed again now that he’s come to the south. Every day feels week long. South Carolina aches for relief (and he hasn’t seen her in weeks but he knows). He’s shocked when he receives Connecticut’s letter to realize it’s only been a few weeks. He’s glad to learn that the British are mostly gone now and it’s amazing how powerful the feeling of nostalgia comes over him when he learns about the Northern states antics. He enjoys spending time with Virginia and North Carolina (who knows an amazing amount of dirty stories) but he misses being surrounded by a yelling crowd. He wishes they were all together again.
Thirteen Voices Raised 10b/13
anonymous
November 7 2010, 14:49:57 UTC
Kings Mount is glorious in every way that Waxhaws wad dreadful. They are in charge from the beginning of the battle. America doesn’t see Virginia or North Carolina but he senses them there around him as they charge, screaming, up the hill. He shoots and his bullets hit their mark with a speed that even Prussia wouldn’t be too disappointed in. he moves in his unit, as he knows units all over the hill are doing, with one purpose: to get the Loyalists, those who are his by birth and English by choice (he feels no connection to them now). The battle is won swiftly and he reigns in his urge shoot those who have surrendered, to give them back Waxhaws, but his officers are going forward and he doesn’t shoot. He is better
That night he sits with North Carolina and Virginia (covered in dirt and blood that is not her own) as they tell tall tales about their achievements that night. The march is long and America is hungry but he gets to see some loyalist hang and North Carolina is saved from attack so he doesn’t even notice the hunger, mostly. At least it’s not cold. America has grown to hate the cold. If he had a choice he would lie in bed all winter and is pretty sure that anyone who does not feel the same is crazy.
Cowpens feels almost as good. America is joined there by South Carolina, as well as North and Virginia, who is dirty and dressed in men’s clothes but grinning widely. He even thinks he might see Georgia lurking around the edges of the camp. He has to admit that he had great nerves as the battle began. The rivers will stop the militia from fleeing but they won’t stop the British from winning and pushing them back so they drown and bleed in those waters but Morgan is right. The British soldiers do just as he said they would and they die in the lines they march and are slaughtered when they run.
After he sits and watches the prisoners marched away as he flags stands proudly with his thirteen stars (and he did see Georgia standing there, gun in hand) and the world, or at least the south, is laid out before him. He thinks of Greene and can’t entirely hide a smirk. This is going to be interesting (plus he can feel Delaware and Maryland and Rhode Island and it will be nice to fight with them again).
Thirteen Voices Raised 11/13
anonymous
November 9 2010, 21:10:09 UTC
xi.
As it turns out, everyone is there. America can’t hold back his gasp of astonishment as Virginia displays them, looking especially smug as she points out where Georgia is standing quietly next to North and South Carolina, who were arguing cheerfully after their week separation. Virginia was soon joined by Maryland and Delaware who seemed intent, America thought, on filling her in on every bit of gossip she might have missed by being too busy fighting a war. New York and Pennsylvania sat back to back, a plate of food on Penn’s knees and New Jersey on York’s. New Hampshire, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Rhode Island (who had managed to keep his ridicules hate despite years of fighting) were wildly waving for him to join them.
“Why are you here?” America asked, still amazed, “not that I’m not glad,” he added quickly.
“Well, the fighting is all done at home and we heard you were kissing ass down here,” said New Hampshire.
“And,” Conn continued, “Mass was worried about France’s….religious preferences affecting you while we weren’t there so we marched down with him.
“Yeah,” Rhode Island agreed, snickering, “we all know how pious Mass is, that’s a man who can often be found on his knees….praying is what people say about ‘im.” Massachusetts looked ready to kill his companions for England so America is almost glad when France himself arrived on the scene.
Almost glad because it turns out having France, a nation which he has been exploring diplomatic connections, next to the colonies, who he still can’t describe, even to himself, is really bad for his blood pressure. It gets worse when he learns that some of them have grown friendly over the long march and, as France says with a truly disturbing wink, ‘traded stories.’ The fighting, when it comes, is a relief and almost a letdown.
They bombard and march foreword and it’s all just too easy. That’s when he sees England, standing with several of his men, across the field. America starts to go but stops himself until France lays a knowing hand on his shoulder, “It’s better to face these things,” he murmurs, “I will watch over your….states. They will not come to any harm while you are gone” Then he runs.
At the end, he stands in front of England and remembers and wonders. Maybe if England had just listened at the beginning, maybe if the French-Indian war hadn’t happened and he still had the threat of a French colony to the north (but thinking like that is stupid, might as well be, maybe if he had chosen France, maybe if Spain had been the one to find him) something else entirely might have happened.
He looks down at England, fallen to his knees before him. He thinks of the states and their joy when he will announce their victory. He thinks of France and his guidance and Prussia and his. England used to be so big but maybe it okay to defeat him. For the first time, America was free and truly happy.
Re: Thirteen Voices Raised 11/13
anonymous
November 9 2010, 22:21:35 UTC
Ah! We're almost done! I'm so sad! It's interesting that some of the states are jealous and some aren't. And France has been hitting on the states, I'm surprised but I shouldn't be
Thirteen Voices Raised 12/13
anonymous
November 12 2010, 15:48:55 UTC
vii
It didn’t last. Independence did. Independence was wonderful and beautiful and he couldn’t remember how he had ever breathed before it became all the air he needed. America wanted to trumpet his findings from the highest mountain tops and would laugh at England’s hurt expression a million times to keep it. It was a true light of joy that kept him going when things went wrong. They were all going wrong. First there was Franklin and North Carolina’s very pointed looks. Then there was Hopewell which wasn’t really bad but was his first real meeting as his own country with foreign ones. Then, just as he was wiping the sweat of his palms, there was Shay’s Rebellion.
America knew that there were going to be problems with setting up his own government but watching his people get angry and rebel was too much. He hid, hoping to hide his tears, for days. It was Washington who found him finally. Washington didn’t say anything about how boys on the brink of manhood should not weep; he simply drew him into an embrace. “Can’t you stop them,” America pleads.
“No,” Washington says, “no mans influence is enough for that. We need a government, a strong one.” From anyone else that might have made America think of England and what they had fought for but it was Washington a man whose love for him he knew in his bones. The letter about from the Annapolis Convention only made more firm his intentions. Something had to be done. Everyone realized they needed some sort of way to deal with each other now they no longer held their bonds to England. It’s been a long time since he’s seen any of the states.
Then is the Constitutional Convention. Almost all of them are there: Maryland and Virginia glaring at each other, Mass glaring at Rhode Island’s empty seat, but everyone seems healthy enough. America was pleased to see their injuries had begun to heal, sometimes (when he was alone and the whole world seemed empty of promise) he thought they would never stop bleeding. Virginia smiles at him, shuffling her stacks of paper, “I have prepared, America, my plan. It is quite simple, what we need is a powerful bicameral legislature determined proportionally.” South Carolina shot up and started speaking about her plan for government which included representatives by a thousand people, a senate elected every four years and a president elected by the congress. Then New Jersey got up to complain about how Virginia’s plan would destroy the small states’ power and that his plan (which was much more like the one they had said they were going to talk about) was much fairer. America can already feel himself developing a headache.
The only thing, it turns out, that the states can agree on is that they do not want to lose their power. How to prevent this is usually suggested in shouts. America finds himself often seeking out the company of some of his calmer, human, delegates. Still, he’s there when Connecticut suggests his idea for a balance between Virginia and New Jersey’s opposing viewpoints (South Carolina is mainly ignored). At that moment the sound of a compromise seems perfect if it will get everyone to shut up (he avoids the room altogether when talks about slavery come up).
In the end no one likes everything, several states stomp off in a huff, but Franklin says, ruffling America’s hair, that that’s what government means so he has to get used to not being liked. America sighs at that but he knows that Franklin is right; still, the feeling when Delaware signs, when he says he likes him, is almost overpowering. It’s overpoweringly strange when Delaware shows up in his room that night. “Hello,” he says hesitantly.
Thirteen Voices Raised 12b/13
anonymous
November 12 2010, 15:49:51 UTC
“Hello, America,” says the state - his state - smiling slightly, “I thought we should meet alone, now.” America blinked.
“It is nice to see you, Del, but why should we meet alone.” Now it’s Delaware’s turn to blink. He says, half to himself it seems,
“So Maryland was right, I’ll owe her for that,” before looking up to meet America’s eyes, “America, what do you think that my signing meant.”
“Well, you agreed to live in my strong central government and stuff,” America mutters, feeling rather foolish. Delaware sighs.
“Yes, a union of me to you,” he looks around, “a sort of binding political marriage you might almost say.” That’s when America gets it.
“Oh,” he says, “I mean, well, it’s just, well,” Delaware flings up his hands in despair.
“Take me now, America, and I promise you that others will follow suit,” this is about the time that America gets the other part of what’s he saying. He would say oh again but his mouth is a little busy. Five days later Pennsylvania joins a grinning Delaware. Soon after New Jersey is there muttering about protection from taxes and a very enjoyable tendency for biting. America is finding that he quite enjoys being married; it keeps a lot of the guilt away.
Georgia, Conn, Mass, Mary, South Carolina and New Hampshire follow. Soon, he needs a bigger bed. Washington smiles approvingly, “you may meet with nations,” he tells America, “but as your own nation you can form no lasting bond with them.” America grins back at him. Virginia arrives in her usual ladylike manner and suggests that their maybe a point to adding a bill of rights before kissing him so hard that he falls back into the others’ waiting arms. New York sulks in but cheers up soon enough when as sighing Connecticut and New Hampshire allow him to hold them on his lap.
America has no idea of electing someone who wasn’t Washington. He would have happily elected the man to crown if he hadn’t said no and his denial makes him all the happier. North Carolina appears, as quiet as always beside his sister, with some fine tobacco as they celebrate his appearance. That leaves Rhode Island as a tiny splotch on his happiness (very, very tiny Massachusetts says, hand on his rifle). Rhode Island shows up finally, glaring and mumbling about rights, and America can find his annoyance with the tiny state draining away. He hugs him, hugs everyone, “We need a picture,” he says, “So we shall always remember, this, our early life as the United States of America.”
Thirteen Voices Raised 13a/13
anonymous
November 25 2010, 17:46:09 UTC
xiii. (or the state of love)
Delaware feels he is a rather sensible person, much better than his colony-siblings anyway. It’s a sensible thing to be annoyed at England with all his going on and America is a nice kid so there is no logical reason not to join with him (and Penn does go on just as bad as England sometimes). It’s only when England snarls at him about his giving up everything does he think about it for a second. Still, Delaware likes feeling sensible even if he has to lie a bit to himself.
Pennsylvania does not fall in love with America because of their resemblance; no matter what other, stupid, states said (if he wanted that he could have always started something with Delaware). He was the one that saw America in the beginning when he was still learning. He’s watched him become inflamed with ideas that make him glow like a personal sun. That is something that makes everything worth it.
New Jersey is used to being over shadowed by New York so she decides she likes America in part because he is one of the few people who can actually overshadow her brother. Sticking with America does stop York and Penn from bullying her but there is more to it than that. He is eager for the intangible justice in a way New York (or any of them really) never has been and it makes him something special. Anyway, he makes her laugh.
Georgia falls in love with America the first time she meets him. His eyes glow with a passion that she has never seen in anyone and they call to her. She feels…responsible to England, he’s looked after her quite well, but she still slips away that night. The Carolina’s give her matching, knowing smiles and Virginia ruffles her hair but America just smiles and she can feel her own eyes glowing.
Connecticut is mostly ignored. He doesn’t mind, most of the time, (even if he is as much an attention hog as the rest of the). America doesn’t ignore him. They don’t spend a lot of time together, even less time without Mass popping up, but he pays attention to his words and thanks him for them. That can be enough.
Massachusetts is sure that he fell in love with America first. He saw the boy mid way through the French Indian war and he’s going to say something to him about England or France or something when he catches sight of the endless blue of his eyes and catches a glimpse of something more and everything he was about to say flees from his mind and he falls.
Maryland didn’t particularly want to leave England but when she does she fights. She travels the country with her soldiers fighting and holding the line. Maybe it’s stupid to fall in love with a country for their land but she does (and doesn’t lie to herself nearly as much as Delaware does) so that’s how it happened.
South Carolina doesn’t like thinking about the war. She doesn’t like England but does and it fights back and forth and hurts quite a bit. It makes her snappy, especially with Virginia (which isn’t such a deal in her opinion because Virginia could annoy a saint), and easily irritated. She does like thinking of America especially in that moment when he said ‘fight with me’ and suddenly she could. South Carolina likes control and she loves America for giving it back.
Thirteen Voices Raised 13b/13
anonymous
November 25 2010, 18:06:49 UTC
New Hampshire doesn’t get a lot of chances to spend time with America. The others have all split into factions and if you manage to avoid the Penn-York-Jersey combo attack you would be sure to run into Mass, plus the two he hung around with, and their large range of knives. The more southern ones probably have things too but Hampshire has never been down there. Still, America doesn’t seem to notice or care and the few moments they’ve had made Hampshire develop a crush that is slightly larger than New York. This is why Hampshire tries to get Vermont in; she needs a group of his own.
Virginia loves America half way between a younger brother and something more. It’s rather incestuous but she remembers looking down into his young face when they had first confronted him and she remembers leaning against his chest after a battle and after the entire thing with everybody is incestuous so her feels are nothing really (it doesn’t stop her from wanting to punch England when he mentions it, though).
New York was sure that he didn’t love America for years. He thinks that it would be fine if the country fell in love with him but he’s got a bit too much experience for anything like that. Then the war is over and they part and he finds himself missing the brat for no reason at all. Then he actually agrees to join with him and, yeah, he’s a bit angry but he’s also so happy at the idea of spending his life with someone not so long ago he had regarded as an annoying child (and there had been Holland even less long ago so he knew better) and yet. New York is probably the best of them at lying to himself (in his opinion his better than all of them at pretty much everything) but this is something else.
North Carolina isn’t quiet by nature. He is friendly and social and likes talking with his people. The states are another matter. They’re all so loud and rude and if you have even the basic politeness you can’t go interrupting which means he’s grown used to being the silent one. When America arrives he figures it to be more of the same and he is still quiet, he’s grown used to it by now, but America does talk to him. They sit together after battles and march through the long days and North Carolina falls in love with someone who really cares about him.
Rhode Island falls in love with America during the battle of Providence. Rhode Island will claim forever that it’s nothing special because they fell in love with France too and it’s just the rush of having someone actually fighting for you instead of over who can take all your land for themselves. Still, maybe a bit of the grumbling is the tiniest bit fake.
thanks to everyone who liked this, I will be writing a sequel called 'the cruelty of war' if you're interested
“Brother?” America asks, wondering if France has a younger brother whose impending visit he had failed to mention.
“Yeah, short kid: wears black, a stupid hat and the name empire. Can tell he hasn’t seen his girlfriend for a long time.”
“Older?” America has to ask. The stranger laughs.
“First lesson: things aren’t always as they look; in fact they’re often not.” That’s the first lesson and the only one without pain. America has never drilled before. The endless marching hurts his legs, the shooting makes his shoulder ache and he throbs from bruises. Super strength doesn’t stop bruises for any of them.
Then, worse, was the fact he was really bad. It was no comfort that Penn and New York were just as bad. Conneticut and Rhode Island forgot their usual distaste for each other and instead sat together laughing (sometimes joined by Maryland and Delaware and damn them all for looking so young). The nights were better.
Occasionally he would spend it with France. They would talk about European ideas that he had been fighting for yet didn’t understand or the treaty that was being forged between them or, sometimes, America would lie with his head in France’s lap as the older nation ran a hand through his hair and told him French stories from long ago. These nights are beautiful and during the day if America thinks about them his stomach clenches and his face turns red and Prussia usually end up yelling at him for some stupid mistake. Nights with the states are different.
He never means to have a night with the states they just happen. New York and Pennsylvania return to his tent (his special tent that Washington gave to him especially so he could be alone) and the sit and drink together before falling back on his bed. Then they are joined by Rhode Island who complains that he’s cold and Connecticut who says nothing but curls against America’s chest and sticks his hand on America’s neck. It isn’t like the conversation is any good either.
“Learning the arts of love from France, I hear,” Penn says one night, with a chuckle that sounds frightenly of Prussia. Before America has a chance to object or explain Rhode Island interjects cheerfully,
“I wish I were.” There is silence for a few moments.
“If you were human you would be such a poxy whore,” New York says reflectively
“If you were human you would be executed, you hands-y sodimite,” Rhode Island returns matching tone for tone. And it’s about then that America has to threaten to throw them out into the snow if they start hitting each other while Penn laughs and Conn offers money for both if they would hit each other while Mary wraps her arms tighter around him while Penn chuckles. Nothing embarrasses him now (except for that one time when Washington came to get him from his tent and found him curled in a mass of limbs with Connecticut’s’ hands, which are very cold, having slipped down during the night to rest on his thigh and oh is he glad the man he thinks the world of says nothing to bring crash him down) so he laughs too. The winter is hard but he spends it wrapped in love and that can make many things easier to bear.
coming up is the south and England returns
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Okay, I was wondering how the states were seeing all the affection between them. Apparently America is the only oblivious one.
I'm kinda surprised France hasn't made a move on America (or at least one that made it through America's naivete) but the way he treats him makes me think that maybe he reminds him of Canada so he treats him like a son. Altho I totally want him to walk in on one of the States night. I'm sure he would extremely amused by it.
And, aw Washington.
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America thinks he’s starting to lose track of time. He’s strong and disciplined and no longer wants to hit Prussia in the face quite as much and its shown in the battles he’s fought but the old feeling of endless time during battles is gone. Now it’s like time is racing away from him. He’s the best he’s ever been and he has to win now before he falls back down that endless slope to the monsters of despair that lurk below. Between fights the time moves even faster. It’s like he blinks his eyes and two years have passed of wonderful victories and freezing winters and he knows now where he is needed. The north is free. Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, all of them are free or doing well enough. England has left them behind to strike at a different target and he must follow. Plus, he hasn’t seen South Carolina since the second congress.
The first thing that happens when America walks into (or sidles into but that isn’t exactly the type of action he wants) South Carolina’s house is that he sees England face to face for the first time in years. The other nation hasn’t changed much. His eyes are still green, his uniform is still neat and his eyebrows still appear to be on the verge of taking over the rest of his face. America isn’t quite sure what to do; fight or flee seem the only options and he is so tired of both. England makes the first move, “Hello, America,” he says, sounding like America’s just popped in for tea after a long ride, “I thought I would see you here. I have a proposition for you.”
“What is it?” He asks.
“Supper with the family,” England smirks at his shocked look, “what, I never got the chance to sit down with all of you at once for a nice meal.” His face is bland now and America has no idea what he’s planning and can only agree, words feeling awkward in his mouth.
“I would love to.”
By the time dinner arrives, America still has no idea what’s going on. He had spent the day wandering the city; the siege is much as he expected and he doesn’t catch a whiff of any of the states. He learns why at supper. It turns out England had really meant when he said he wanted a family supper. All the south is there: North Carolina wearing his Sunday best gives America smile before focusing back on his plate, South Carolina looks angry but beautiful, Virginia caress his face and whispers “you look different,” before seating herself with a ladylike swish of seats. Then England sweeps in with two unfamiliar children and America figures it out.
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If any of the other states were there (states who remembered his collapse and still worried, even now, for his ability to face England and fight) they would probably try to get him to leave. They would be worried for no reason. He remembers loving England, he remembers England being everything, but he’s made his choice and he doesn’t regret it. He’s felt more alive these past few years then he ever has before. He does not regret the innocence of his youth but he does not regret it.
The super is very quiet. South Carolina makes several sharp remarks to England that fly over the children’s heads and Georgia is induced to babble about her home before remembering her demureness and looking back down. Under the table Virginia takes his hand and rests the other one on North Carolina’s knee (he gets a flash of gratitude for that). Things don’t get going until after super.
They’re all together in the parlor drinking tea (and damn it all but America does like coffee more) when the first out and out mention of the war is made. Its Georgia, young but growing and unsure Georgia, who says it. America had just told her that he had seen her as a baby and she said, “I’ve seen you before too.”
“Really,” he asks, unsure of what she means.
“Oh yes, I saw you back when you were fighting with Mr. England, it was just outside my house, you know.” England’s knuckles go white on his cup and America chooses he’s words carefully.
“I was only here very briefly to speak with a friend of mine. I didn’t realize you were there.” England interrupts them then.
“Battles are no subject for a young lady to speak of, especially one who should be in bed.” Georgia blushes and apologizes and America knows he should stop but he doesn’t.
“Do you know what we were fighting about? Freedom, mine and yours too. Think about it Georgia, your government agrees with me.” Florida snorts and England looks like he would descend into profanity if not for the mixed company but Georgia’s eyes have a spark and America knows he’s won this round.
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This chapter made me feel kind of bad for Arthur because he's all trying to emphasize that they're family. But at the same time I'm not sure how much of it is just him trying to manipulate America and the colonies. And, again, England if you wanted to work this out peacefully you should have tried a whole lot earlier when the colonies were trying to talk to you.
Anyways, wow, we're getting close to done aren't we? I will be sad when I don't see the updates for this anymore.
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America’s glee at England’s loss of face in front of his loyal colonies (and it was a loss of face even if America was the only one who saw the anger) doesn’t last long. He’s gotten used to winning battles, or losing but causing damage and running. Waxhaws is hard. He dies two times that day. The first he is trampled under the hooves of the cavalry horses (and, oh, how he hates fighting men on horseback). His neck shatters. He wakes in Virginia’s arms. She’s covered in blood, quite a lot of it hers. The second time comes mere minutes later when he is stabbed through the stomach as he lies there aching. Next time he wakes it’s in a makeshift hospital with Virginia holding his hand.
“How long has it been?” He asks.
“Two days,” her voice is wooden. America has died before (quite a few times, actually, he isn’t the most careful of nations) from sickness and injures but he still remembers the first time. It had been on one of England’s early fists and he had been showing off for his new guardian. He had demanded close attention as he showed how good he was a climbing the oak tree. When he woke up five days had passed and he received his first lecture on what it meant to be a nation. “The flag raised,” Virginia continues, “They killed surrendered men,” emotions had slowly seeped back.
Suddenly he realizes her hand is shaking. America can’t tell if the shaking was from pain or anger (though he knows the quiet stillness that lies like block of ice in his own heart is pure anger, stronger than he’s ever felt before). Whatever her feelings he holds her hand mutely as it shakes regaining strength. When she stops he pushes himself up (ever so slowly because his stomach hurts) and kisses her. It’s different than any of the kisses they’ve shared before. It’s not in agreement or joy or victory but from pain and in that moment he thinks that he understands what Massachusetts was saying. Then she pulls back.
“You’re stomach is bleeding again,” she says and starts bustling around him in a very professional fashion, switching bandages and lecturing him on sudden movements. “Sleep,” she says finally and leaves with a final caress of his face. That night America dreams of England slicing open his stomach with a saber and pulling out his intestines which he eats as the gathered states watch silently. He wakes up in the morning completely healed.
America’s sense of time seems to have reversed again now that he’s come to the south. Every day feels week long. South Carolina aches for relief (and he hasn’t seen her in weeks but he knows). He’s shocked when he receives Connecticut’s letter to realize it’s only been a few weeks. He’s glad to learn that the British are mostly gone now and it’s amazing how powerful the feeling of nostalgia comes over him when he learns about the Northern states antics. He enjoys spending time with Virginia and North Carolina (who knows an amazing amount of dirty stories) but he misses being surrounded by a yelling crowd. He wishes they were all together again.
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That night he sits with North Carolina and Virginia (covered in dirt and blood that is not her own) as they tell tall tales about their achievements that night. The march is long and America is hungry but he gets to see some loyalist hang and North Carolina is saved from attack so he doesn’t even notice the hunger, mostly. At least it’s not cold. America has grown to hate the cold. If he had a choice he would lie in bed all winter and is pretty sure that anyone who does not feel the same is crazy.
Cowpens feels almost as good. America is joined there by South Carolina, as well as North and Virginia, who is dirty and dressed in men’s clothes but grinning widely. He even thinks he might see Georgia lurking around the edges of the camp. He has to admit that he had great nerves as the battle began. The rivers will stop the militia from fleeing but they won’t stop the British from winning and pushing them back so they drown and bleed in those waters but Morgan is right. The British soldiers do just as he said they would and they die in the lines they march and are slaughtered when they run.
After he sits and watches the prisoners marched away as he flags stands proudly with his thirteen stars (and he did see Georgia standing there, gun in hand) and the world, or at least the south, is laid out before him. He thinks of Greene and can’t entirely hide a smirk. This is going to be interesting (plus he can feel Delaware and Maryland and Rhode Island and it will be nice to fight with them again).
next time: the war ends
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As it turns out, everyone is there. America can’t hold back his gasp of astonishment as Virginia displays them, looking especially smug as she points out where Georgia is standing quietly next to North and South Carolina, who were arguing cheerfully after their week separation. Virginia was soon joined by Maryland and Delaware who seemed intent, America thought, on filling her in on every bit of gossip she might have missed by being too busy fighting a war. New York and Pennsylvania sat back to back, a plate of food on Penn’s knees and New Jersey on York’s. New Hampshire, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Rhode Island (who had managed to keep his ridicules hate despite years of fighting) were wildly waving for him to join them.
“Why are you here?” America asked, still amazed, “not that I’m not glad,” he added quickly.
“Well, the fighting is all done at home and we heard you were kissing ass down here,” said New Hampshire.
“And,” Conn continued, “Mass was worried about France’s….religious preferences affecting you while we weren’t there so we marched down with him.
“Yeah,” Rhode Island agreed, snickering, “we all know how pious Mass is, that’s a man who can often be found on his knees….praying is what people say about ‘im.” Massachusetts looked ready to kill his companions for England so America is almost glad when France himself arrived on the scene.
Almost glad because it turns out having France, a nation which he has been exploring diplomatic connections, next to the colonies, who he still can’t describe, even to himself, is really bad for his blood pressure. It gets worse when he learns that some of them have grown friendly over the long march and, as France says with a truly disturbing wink, ‘traded stories.’ The fighting, when it comes, is a relief and almost a letdown.
They bombard and march foreword and it’s all just too easy. That’s when he sees England, standing with several of his men, across the field. America starts to go but stops himself until France lays a knowing hand on his shoulder, “It’s better to face these things,” he murmurs, “I will watch over your….states. They will not come to any harm while you are gone” Then he runs.
At the end, he stands in front of England and remembers and wonders. Maybe if England had just listened at the beginning, maybe if the French-Indian war hadn’t happened and he still had the threat of a French colony to the north (but thinking like that is stupid, might as well be, maybe if he had chosen France, maybe if Spain had been the one to find him) something else entirely might have happened.
He looks down at England, fallen to his knees before him. He thinks of the states and their joy when he will announce their victory. He thinks of France and his guidance and Prussia and his. England used to be so big but maybe it okay to defeat him. For the first time, America was free and truly happy.
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It's interesting that some of the states are jealous and some aren't. And France has been hitting on the states, I'm surprised but I shouldn't be
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Thank you! :-)
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It didn’t last. Independence did. Independence was wonderful and beautiful and he couldn’t remember how he had ever breathed before it became all the air he needed. America wanted to trumpet his findings from the highest mountain tops and would laugh at England’s hurt expression a million times to keep it. It was a true light of joy that kept him going when things went wrong. They were all going wrong. First there was Franklin and North Carolina’s very pointed looks. Then there was Hopewell which wasn’t really bad but was his first real meeting as his own country with foreign ones. Then, just as he was wiping the sweat of his palms, there was Shay’s Rebellion.
America knew that there were going to be problems with setting up his own government but watching his people get angry and rebel was too much. He hid, hoping to hide his tears, for days. It was Washington who found him finally. Washington didn’t say anything about how boys on the brink of manhood should not weep; he simply drew him into an embrace. “Can’t you stop them,” America pleads.
“No,” Washington says, “no mans influence is enough for that. We need a government, a strong one.” From anyone else that might have made America think of England and what they had fought for but it was Washington a man whose love for him he knew in his bones. The letter about from the Annapolis Convention only made more firm his intentions. Something had to be done. Everyone realized they needed some sort of way to deal with each other now they no longer held their bonds to England. It’s been a long time since he’s seen any of the states.
Then is the Constitutional Convention. Almost all of them are there: Maryland and Virginia glaring at each other, Mass glaring at Rhode Island’s empty seat, but everyone seems healthy enough. America was pleased to see their injuries had begun to heal, sometimes (when he was alone and the whole world seemed empty of promise) he thought they would never stop bleeding. Virginia smiles at him, shuffling her stacks of paper, “I have prepared, America, my plan. It is quite simple, what we need is a powerful bicameral legislature determined proportionally.” South Carolina shot up and started speaking about her plan for government which included representatives by a thousand people, a senate elected every four years and a president elected by the congress. Then New Jersey got up to complain about how Virginia’s plan would destroy the small states’ power and that his plan (which was much more like the one they had said they were going to talk about) was much fairer. America can already feel himself developing a headache.
The only thing, it turns out, that the states can agree on is that they do not want to lose their power. How to prevent this is usually suggested in shouts. America finds himself often seeking out the company of some of his calmer, human, delegates. Still, he’s there when Connecticut suggests his idea for a balance between Virginia and New Jersey’s opposing viewpoints (South Carolina is mainly ignored). At that moment the sound of a compromise seems perfect if it will get everyone to shut up (he avoids the room altogether when talks about slavery come up).
In the end no one likes everything, several states stomp off in a huff, but Franklin says, ruffling America’s hair, that that’s what government means so he has to get used to not being liked. America sighs at that but he knows that Franklin is right; still, the feeling when Delaware signs, when he says he likes him, is almost overpowering. It’s overpoweringly strange when Delaware shows up in his room that night. “Hello,” he says hesitantly.
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“It is nice to see you, Del, but why should we meet alone.” Now it’s Delaware’s turn to blink. He says, half to himself it seems,
“So Maryland was right, I’ll owe her for that,” before looking up to meet America’s eyes, “America, what do you think that my signing meant.”
“Well, you agreed to live in my strong central government and stuff,” America mutters, feeling rather foolish. Delaware sighs.
“Yes, a union of me to you,” he looks around, “a sort of binding political marriage you might almost say.” That’s when America gets it.
“Oh,” he says, “I mean, well, it’s just, well,” Delaware flings up his hands in despair.
“Take me now, America, and I promise you that others will follow suit,” this is about the time that America gets the other part of what’s he saying. He would say oh again but his mouth is a little busy. Five days later Pennsylvania joins a grinning Delaware. Soon after New Jersey is there muttering about protection from taxes and a very enjoyable tendency for biting. America is finding that he quite enjoys being married; it keeps a lot of the guilt away.
Georgia, Conn, Mass, Mary, South Carolina and New Hampshire follow. Soon, he needs a bigger bed. Washington smiles approvingly, “you may meet with nations,” he tells America, “but as your own nation you can form no lasting bond with them.” America grins back at him. Virginia arrives in her usual ladylike manner and suggests that their maybe a point to adding a bill of rights before kissing him so hard that he falls back into the others’ waiting arms. New York sulks in but cheers up soon enough when as sighing Connecticut and New Hampshire allow him to hold them on his lap.
America has no idea of electing someone who wasn’t Washington. He would have happily elected the man to crown if he hadn’t said no and his denial makes him all the happier. North Carolina appears, as quiet as always beside his sister, with some fine tobacco as they celebrate his appearance. That leaves Rhode Island as a tiny splotch on his happiness (very, very tiny Massachusetts says, hand on his rifle). Rhode Island shows up finally, glaring and mumbling about rights, and America can find his annoyance with the tiny state draining away. He hugs him, hugs everyone, “We need a picture,” he says, “So we shall always remember, this, our early life as the United States of America.”
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So sad that this is going to be ending soon. :-(
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(or the state of love)
Delaware feels he is a rather sensible person, much better than his colony-siblings anyway. It’s a sensible thing to be annoyed at England with all his going on and America is a nice kid so there is no logical reason not to join with him (and Penn does go on just as bad as England sometimes). It’s only when England snarls at him about his giving up everything does he think about it for a second. Still, Delaware likes feeling sensible even if he has to lie a bit to himself.
Pennsylvania does not fall in love with America because of their resemblance; no matter what other, stupid, states said (if he wanted that he could have always started something with Delaware). He was the one that saw America in the beginning when he was still learning. He’s watched him become inflamed with ideas that make him glow like a personal sun. That is something that makes everything worth it.
New Jersey is used to being over shadowed by New York so she decides she likes America in part because he is one of the few people who can actually overshadow her brother. Sticking with America does stop York and Penn from bullying her but there is more to it than that. He is eager for the intangible justice in a way New York (or any of them really) never has been and it makes him something special. Anyway, he makes her laugh.
Georgia falls in love with America the first time she meets him. His eyes glow with a passion that she has never seen in anyone and they call to her. She feels…responsible to England, he’s looked after her quite well, but she still slips away that night. The Carolina’s give her matching, knowing smiles and Virginia ruffles her hair but America just smiles and she can feel her own eyes glowing.
Connecticut is mostly ignored. He doesn’t mind, most of the time, (even if he is as much an attention hog as the rest of the). America doesn’t ignore him. They don’t spend a lot of time together, even less time without Mass popping up, but he pays attention to his words and thanks him for them. That can be enough.
Massachusetts is sure that he fell in love with America first. He saw the boy mid way through the French Indian war and he’s going to say something to him about England or France or something when he catches sight of the endless blue of his eyes and catches a glimpse of something more and everything he was about to say flees from his mind and he falls.
Maryland didn’t particularly want to leave England but when she does she fights. She travels the country with her soldiers fighting and holding the line. Maybe it’s stupid to fall in love with a country for their land but she does (and doesn’t lie to herself nearly as much as Delaware does) so that’s how it happened.
South Carolina doesn’t like thinking about the war. She doesn’t like England but does and it fights back and forth and hurts quite a bit. It makes her snappy, especially with Virginia (which isn’t such a deal in her opinion because Virginia could annoy a saint), and easily irritated. She does like thinking of America especially in that moment when he said ‘fight with me’ and suddenly she could. South Carolina likes control and she loves America for giving it back.
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Virginia loves America half way between a younger brother and something more. It’s rather incestuous but she remembers looking down into his young face when they had first confronted him and she remembers leaning against his chest after a battle and after the entire thing with everybody is incestuous so her feels are nothing really (it doesn’t stop her from wanting to punch England when he mentions it, though).
New York was sure that he didn’t love America for years. He thinks that it would be fine if the country fell in love with him but he’s got a bit too much experience for anything like that. Then the war is over and they part and he finds himself missing the brat for no reason at all. Then he actually agrees to join with him and, yeah, he’s a bit angry but he’s also so happy at the idea of spending his life with someone not so long ago he had regarded as an annoying child (and there had been Holland even less long ago so he knew better) and yet. New York is probably the best of them at lying to himself (in his opinion his better than all of them at pretty much everything) but this is something else.
North Carolina isn’t quiet by nature. He is friendly and social and likes talking with his people. The states are another matter. They’re all so loud and rude and if you have even the basic politeness you can’t go interrupting which means he’s grown used to being the silent one. When America arrives he figures it to be more of the same and he is still quiet, he’s grown used to it by now, but America does talk to him. They sit together after battles and march through the long days and North Carolina falls in love with someone who really cares about him.
Rhode Island falls in love with America during the battle of Providence. Rhode Island will claim forever that it’s nothing special because they fell in love with France too and it’s just the rush of having someone actually fighting for you instead of over who can take all your land for themselves. Still, maybe a bit of the grumbling is the tiniest bit fake.
thanks to everyone who liked this, I will be writing a sequel called 'the cruelty of war' if you're interested
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