These are the times that try men's souls, [2/?]
Title: These are the times that try men's souls, part deux
Author/Artist: lokichan2004
Character(s) or Pairing(s): In this one...Canada and a ton of state-tans.
Rating: PG to be on the safe side
Warnings: A funeral.
Summary: Part two, and I hope no one minds me spamming the community like crazy as I post all the old chapters. >_>
http://community.livejournal.com/hetalia/4170145.html
The funeral was a somber event. As per Alfred’s will he was buried on his estate in Virginia, beneath an ancient oak tree that was only slightly older than himself. Alfred had always loved Virginia -he had watched the first wave of settlers arrive and started the doomed settlement of Roanoke, and then again at Jamestown. It was where he had first been found by the European nations, and where he had chosen Arthur over Francis to raise him. Virginia held a special place in Alfred’s heart over the years, and if he wasn’t in Washington, D.C. one could’ve usually found him there.
It was damp and misty when the first of Alfred’s state-children arrived. Virginia herself was the first to arrive, of course; Alfred was being buried on her native soil, after all. Virginia was a tall, thin woman with brown hair and an honest, open face; her brother West Virginia followed at her side. They stood beneath the oak tree, welcomed their siblings as they came, and tried not to think about the rectangular hole in the ground behind them.
Pennsylvania was the next to arrive, followed by Delaware and Maryland. They embraced each other and wept, folding in on themselves, their shared grief washing over them like a tidal wave.
“Any room in there for two more?” a voice asked, and they looked up, staring in disbelief at the figures walking toward them. Hobbling forward on crutches, looking pained and worn, was New York, New Jersey hovering protectively by his side. His right foot was visible through his pant leg, heavily bandaged and already covered in signatures. Virginia broke away from the group and strode over to them, pulling New York into a fierce hug. His eyes widened and he gasped, and he would’ve toppled over were it not for New Jersey’s steady hand.
“Ahh, easy, Bets!” he said, wobbling on one foot as he wrapped an arm around his sister. New Jersey threw Virginia a disapproving look but said nothing, tightening her hold on New York’s jacket.
“What are you doing here, George?” Virginia asked, pulling away to hold her brother’s face in her hands. “You should be at home resting.” New York smiled sadly and shook his head.
“There’s no way I would miss Dad’s last big show,” he said, bowing his head to rest it against Virginia’s. She looked up into his face that looked so much like Alfred’s - same blue eyes, same bright face, but with darker brown hair and Arthur’s generous eyebrows.
“He needs to sit down,” New Jersey said softly, and Virginia nodded, pulling away to swipe at her eyes.
“Yes. Of course.” She smiled tremulously at her northern sister and pulled her into a hug as well. “Hi, Jane. Good to see you again.” New Jersey hugged her back, giving her a tight squeeze.
“Hi, Betsy,” she replied, using Virginia’s childhood nickname. Pleasantries exchanged they helped New York to a chair, greeting Connecticut and Rhode Island along the way. Soon the original English colonies were all assembled, with Massachusetts being the last to arrive. No one was surprised to see him there; he was still as feisty and headstrong as he had been during his colonial and Revolutionary days. The left side of his head was wrapped in bandages, extending all the way down to his neck and disappearing into the collar of his shirt. He was greeted with hugs and teary smiles and guided to a chair next to New Hampshire and the Carolina twins. Georgia and West Virginia sat side by side, conversing quietly.
Slowly their numbers grew as the Midwestern states arrived, then the plains states, the mountain states, the Great American western states. California, Texas and Florida were absent, as was Hawaii, but the biggest surprise was seeing not only Alaska stepping forward in long strides, but their northern neighbor, Matthew Williams. Forty-six pairs of eyes stared, dumbstruck, at the two coming toward them, before the sea of humanity surged forward and engulfed them. Tears and laughter and a multitude of voices overlapped each other as they embraced; Matthew stood back and wiped his eyes from behind his glasses.
“What are you doing here?” Wyoming asked as Arizona squeezed him tight.
“Matt flew me in,” the northernmost state rumbled, ruffling Arizona’s hair. The slightest Russian accent could be heard as he spoke. “From Juneau to Vancouver, and then to Toronto. We left two days ago and only just now got here.” Matthew smiled bashfully as the full force of Alfred’s children was turned on him, and he soon found himself the recipient of so many hugs and questions that he lost count.
“I thought the border was sealed off, Matt,” New York asked, once the din had died down and the Canadian shown to an empty seat.
“It was,” he replied, adjusting his glasses as he sat down. “But being the representation of a whole country gets you places, you know. Plus…” He sighed heavily. “I couldn’t miss this. Alfred and I didn’t see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, but in the end was my brother.” He took a deep breath and shuddered, running a hand through his blonde hair as the hearse pulled up.
Oklahoma, Nevada, Oregon, Louisiana, Iowa and Maine bore the casket forward into place, the mahogany wood covered with an American flag. Quiet weeping was the only sound to be heard as the minister began the eulogy. It was as simple as could be without revealing his true identity; his help in numerous military skirmishes, working with charities and aiding the President, as well as his love of country, were the main topics. The content of Alfred’s character, too, was brought up - loyal, generous, good-natured, child-like to a fault, but dependable. Courage he had in spades, although he could’ve used more patience. Quiet laughter rippled through the crowd at this.
After the minister stepped down, those who were able or willing stood and shared their fondest memories about their dearest friend. Hiking in Colorado. Skiing in Utah. Ice-fishing in Michigan. Sailing in Chesapeake Bay. Late night burger runs. It’s all peaceful and cathartic, even as their eyes shine with tears as the casket is slowly lowered into the ground. A lone bagpiper played sorrowfully as they say goodbye to their father, brother, friend.
It’s easy for them to forget that beyond the mist of the Virginia woods, the country is beginning to tear itself apart.
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Baw. Not happy with this, but there it is, anyway. Virginia's nickname is from Betsy Ross, New Jersey is named after a Loyalist who was reportedly killed by Indian allies of the British, and New York is named after King George III because NYC was a Loyalist hotbed during the Revolution.