Hello! My name is Ailbhe Saoirse (or Weird). This is my writing blog where I keep all my books and oneshots. My main blog is @weirdestarrow and my countryhumans sideblog is @weirdestcountryhumans
If you wanna support me, check out my Kofi!
I take requests (although not smut) so if you have something you think I should write, shoot me an ask! If you have and it has been a while since then, you can check here to see if your oneshot has been denied.
If you are interested in any of my headcanons, I have a website that explains many of them. If you want to check that out, or shoot me an ask, I'd love to explain. I also have my writing schedule here, where you can see upcoming projects and chapters
Table of Contents
Historical Countryhumans Books
Secrecy and Deception: [Completed]
The Cold War. Over 50 years of battles fought between two ideologies, sponsored by the two most powerful countries in the world. On one side, the United States of America and capitalism. On the other side, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. And in this standoff of nations, war is not an option. But still, only one can remain. (Countryhumans Cold War)
The Consequence of Loyalty: [Completed]
When Kentucky was sent to the Philippines to prepare for a possible Japanese invasion, he did not expect to enjoy it. However, as he got closer to the Phillippines and when he was eventually ordered to flee, Kentucky was forced to decide between following orders and staying behind to defend the Phillippines for as long as possible. (Countryhumans World War 2 in the Philippines)
The Occupation [Completed]
It's 1968, right at the peak of the Civil Rights movement. In April, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is killed. Unrest breaks out throughout the nation. National Guards are called out for most cities. But only one city was occupied by the Guard for more than a few days. Wilmington, Delaware was under occupation for over 9 months. And let's just say that it didn't turn out well for Delaware.
The Shot Heard Around the World: [Completed]
Thirteen Colonies loved his Father, but after the Seven Year's War, he wasn't sure if his father felt the same way. His Father just needed to listen to him. If he didn't, well, Thirteen and his Father weren't going to be on the same page. Or be a part of the same empire. Because Thirteen could only take so much before he would take drastic action himself. (Countryhumans American Revolution)
A Civil Disagreement:
North v South. Free State v Slave State. States Governments v Federal Government. For being a country holding the name of United, America was anything but united. The states still stuck together though. That is until December 20, 1860. The bloodiest fight the Union has ever had is about to begin. (Countryhumans American Civil War)
Dominion of New England: [Completed]
In 1686, Britain decided it was time to unite some of the colonies in New England into a dominion under his control. This is the story of that dominion, the Dominion of New England. (Countryhumans History of the Dominion of New England)
The Overthrown Kingdom [completed]
The United States of America was not dealing with the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom well. Batting his own thoughts and the thoughts of his people and government, the fate of the Kingdom’s personification lies in his hands.
The Empire of Japan was furious. The kingdom she so adored was now in the hands of Western Powers, and Japan knew it was only a matter of time before they took Hawaii’s life. Japan didn’t know what she could do, only that she had to do something to save Hawaii.
Kalaupapa missed his mother. Ever since she died with the Kingdom, his world seems to have become muted. He just wanted his mom back, no matter how unrealistic it was.
The Addition of Three [Completed]
Louisiana, Florida, and New Mexico. Three territories that were colonized and settled by different European nations. And yet, they all ended up as a part of the United States of America through various purchases and political plays, this is how United States adopted three of his children.
Forget Them Not: The Great Countryhumans Archive:
In a world where countries are personified, an organization called the Countryhumans History and Research Archival Project has dedicated itself to recording the stories and histories of these countryhumans. (AKA an archive of fake newspapers and such that canonically exists inside my countryhumans universe. Just a little fun project to explore different angles of things)
Regular Countryhumans Books
Secret States: [Completed]
America was the last person anyone expected to be a father. But America is a father to many. Sometimes, those kids convince each other to do ridiculous things. That's how Texas found himself about to walk into a UN meeting.
Wrong Reflection: [Completed]
For about 400 years, Alfred F Jones believed he was the only personification of the United States of America. That is, until his counterpart from another dimension appeared in New York City—cue chaos. (Or my kind of crack Countryhumans x Hetalia fanfic)
Countryhumans Oneshots
Historical Oneshots (Ancient Times to 1900 | 1900-Present)
1984 x Countryhumans AU, featuring what would affect the countryhumans in a universe like that. Featuring oneshots and books.
When the Fire's Extinguished (Warpath AU)
The Kingdom of Hawaiʻi was betrayed by all her allies when the overthrow of her monarchy. She had been turned into a phoenix against her will and was imprisoned and abused by the Republic government. That’s how the original story goes, in any case. But this is not the story. This is the story of a Hawaiʻi who embraced her fire and used it to enact her revenge. No matter the cost.
Gift of Flight AU
A Wings of Fire x Countryhumans AU, where the countryhumans are dragons, and we have done our best to give them similar backgrounds despite different histories. We've essentially kept the characters the same while using WoF to explore new stories.
British Michigan AU Collection
An AU of oneshots going over what would happen if Michigan had been captured by the British in 1812.
Universal-Casey’s Soviet America AU Oneshot Collection
Oneshots written for @universal-casey's Soviet America AU, about what happens to America after the USSR takes over his country and makes him an SSR.
Countrycats AU:
Just a fun AU where all personifications are cats. All tagged with #countrycats
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Alabama couldn't believe they had made it this far into the Union. They had blown past their prior record of only reaching Maryland and were now in Pennsylvania.
It was the chance they had been looking for to threaten the Federals and force them to end the war. It was the proof that they were a threat to his dad's country, that they weren't just going to be invaded time and time again, until they broke.
Alabama knew about the battles to the West, and how they were not going well for his son, but…if they could make themselves a big enough threat, they could force the Union to sue for peace, and then it wouldn't matter if they were losing out west, because they would have ended things.
Alabama wasn't blind to how much hinged on an uncertain bet, but he had to believe in this, believe in this chance in victory.
General Lee was a good man and a good general, and Alabama trusted him.
He wished things hadn't ended this way, he really did, but they had ended this way, and now…well, Alabama wasn't going to let himself feel guilty about the way things were ending, because they had invaded his country, his siblings first, and had started the damn war to begin with.
This was their aggression being paid back, nothing more, nothing less.
They were outside the town of Gettysburg now, which had been fortified by the Federals, who were on many of the ridges near the town, offering a place for them to push Alabama and his unit back, a position to hold.
Which is why it was so important to dislodge them from the high ground and from their positions, make them retreat, and secure the victory—or at least one of the victories—that they needed.
Alabama's bridge was making its way around one of the Federal positions to the north of the town. It was just after midday, and they had no advantage of darkness, though thankfully that didn't seem to matter as they reached their positions and prepared for the assault.
And once it began, it was the same mix of success and devastation that the war seemed to bring.
They were pushing back the Federals, yes, they were forcing them further and further back, while at the same time taking losses that they didn't have the time to mourn.
They were winning, but the cost was too high. It was always too high.
Alabama wished this war had not been started.
Maybe this battle would finally make him see sense.
One could only hope.
Alabama gritted his teeth and worked harder to push them back.
There was something almost poetic about bringing death to a place meant to create life.
It was not the first time a farm turned into a battlefield, and it would not be the last, but it…it meant something, every time Massachusetts was a part of another battle at a field.
The day had been bloody, and their line had collapsed and been pushed back.
Massachusetts was beginning to prepare to cook dinner for the day, trying so hard to forget the memories that haunted him, when a messenger ran up to him, and Massachusetts shot to attention.
"What is it?" he asked, his voice stern but not unkind.
"Pennsylvania has been injured. The United States wanted me to inform all the states," the messenger said, and Massachusetts tensed immediately.
"Where is she?" he said.
"Pennsylvania Hall," the messenger said, "I need to go tell the others."
Massachusetts nodded sharply.
"Tell them," Massachusetts said, before running to the college, breathing heavy as he moved as quickly as his legs could carry him.
His daughter was injured. His mind was racing with worst-case scenarios, seeing his daughter's face on every mutilated corpse he had seen throughout the war, and he wanted nothing more than to…
"Dear Lord," Massachusetts muttered under his breath, "please look after her and care for her, and offer her strength in this time of need. Do not take her away from me. Please show mercy and let her live. It does not matter the state, I just wish for her to be alive. Amen."
It wasn't a good prayer, but it was one made of desperation and fear, and he knew God would listen. He would offer better prayers later.
It was times like this that he felt unsteady with his new faith and the ceremony that came with it, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that God was kind, and that He had made countryhumans, and would look after them.
When Massachusetts arrived at the college, he was swiftly guided past rows of bleeding and broken men until he saw Pennsylvania, eyes half lidded and arm—oh god, her arm.
It was…it was gone.
"Pennsylvania, mein liebling, are you—" Massachusetts cut himself off, silently cursing the rebels who had invaded her state and injured her in this way. Pennsylvania's eyes opened, and she smiled weakly.
Massachusetts wondered if she should even be awake.
"Hi…hi, Dad," Pennsylvania said, and Massachusetts took her remaining hand, holding it in his as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, muttering things to himself and her, trying to bring some degree of comfort
"God, Penny," Massachusetts eventually ended with.
It was not the first or last time someone in this war would lose an arm.
Somehow, this was the worst.
First Michigan and now her.
What was the South doing to them?
Massachusetts wanted to still love them, but this all made it so much harder.
Massachusetts pressed a kiss to his daughter's hand.
Taking the high ground was always the bloodiest and most important part of every battle.
It was why General Pickett had organized this charge, why Virginia was storming up this hill despite the heavy losses, because they needed this victory. She didn't want to be invaded again. She wanted to teach her father a lesson.
She wanted a lot of this, and if they lost, it would not only give the Union a moral boost they couldn't risk giving them, but it would send them back into Virginia's land to lick her wounds, leaving Maryland alone to be controlled.
It was…Virginia didn't want it to end like this.
So they pushed forward, higher and higher up the hill, even as death and devastation were rained down upon them, even as the Union line held strong, only wavering slightly.
As they got closer to the top of the hill, the gunfire slowed, and the fight changed.
It was like Bunker Hill, only this time, Virginia was the one attacking as the fight turned into a melee one, bayonets and rifle butts acting as their weapon as they fought each other to the bloody pulp, in a way that was far more personal and horrific than the fighting of before, when they fired from a distance.
It was personal.
Virginia could also feel herself being targeted, her flag showing proudly, prompting firm anger from the Federals, who saw her and targeted her, with anger in their eyes.
She knew why. She knew to them, she was a traitor, one of the world, the Old Dominion that was beloved by so many leaving.
She knew why.
She hated the focus anyway. She hated how it pushed her back as she tried to avoid getting wounded or killed—because that would most likely lead to her being captured, and…and they had already lost Mississippi, and with the nation sharing her heart…
Virginia would not be captured.
She was going to fight.
Even if it seemed like they were not going to win.
Delaware had been summoned as soon as the fog had overtaken his mind. He didn't resist. The thought didn't even cross his mind. The stubbornness and tenacity that all knew him for was softening, becoming manageable, something controllable.
Of course, Delaware wasn't aware of that. The same fog that was softening his mind was blocking him from being fully aware of it, keeping him in a state that felt natural, cutting off any attempts to realize something was wrong.
Delaware didn't realize anything was different. He just thought he had been given a new perspective.
"Delaware, it is good to see you," General Robert Schneck said, holding out a hand. Delaware took it, shaking it with a small smile.
He hadn't liked the military before, mistrusted them, but those doubts and worries had faded, and Delaware couldn't even think about why he had them in the first place.
"It's good to see you, too," Delaware responded. "Why did you need to speak with me?"
"There has been suspicion that you are a traitor, and I am here to put these rumors to rest and ensure that you are a loyal citizen of the nation, and everyone knows it," General Schneck said. Delaware nodded. It made perfect sense. He was the only state not to fight, so of course, there would be rumors, and it was his duty to report to the military and ensure he was loyal.
You are an American state. You will be loyal.
"Now, you have never joined the fight for your nation, and because of that, people have questions. Have you had contact with the rebel states?" the general asked.
Once, Delaware would have said no. Once, he would have lied to protect his relationship with his mother, to protect the fact that he did not think he could fight his family.
But Delaware was no longer capable of saying no. Every part of his body and mind screamed at him to comply, gentle and pushing and all-consuming, leaving room for nothing else.
And so he complied. It was easy, it was simple, and it made him a good state.
"Yes. I have exchanged letters with Virginia," Delaware said. A part of him wanted to justify why, but a wave of shame overtook him, bitter on his tongue, and he looked down and didn't say anything else, awaiting judgment.
"Well, I didn't want to hear that," General Schneck said, sounding upset. "You will never contact her or any of the other rebels again and hand over any correspondence you still have. You could have jeopardized everything; you have been the reason that people died. You are never going to be anything but a loyal state from now on, even if I have to make you one."
"I understand," Delaware said, the fog growing stronger, rewriting things and changing things until they perfectly fit the narrative he was told.
He had gotten people killed. He had jeopardized things. He had betrayed his nation.
"You are going to join the army to repent. You will not feel bad about anything you do, as in the army, and you will obey your orders without question. You are a loyal state, and to be loyal, you must be obedient, as you cannot be trusted to make your own judgment calls. Understand?"
"I am a loyal state. I must be obedient," Delaware repeated, the words solidifying, repeating in his mind until they were unquestionably true.
"Good. I will find a unit for you. Until then, aside from decisions needed to take care of your health, you will come to me and have me check every decision you make. We cannot trust you, and that must be correct. I will also be writing to your father to see how he thinks you need to be punished," the general said. Delaware just nodded.
He had no reason or desire to argue or fight.
He had made mistakes. He needed to make up for them.
Obedience was the natural penance.
He was going to prove himself loyal. He was loyal.
It was not the first time that the thought had crossed England's mind. In fact, it would be wrong to say that the thought was new or revolutionary at all.
It passed his mind, every time there was a fight with the mainland nation, every time they were mocked for being small island country that could never grow, and recently had grown all the more stronger as England and the other countries of the isles tried to have some part in the colonization of the new land, all while dealing with threats from more powerful nations.
So, the thought was older than he dared speak.
It didn't always mean it was realistic.
But…maybe now it was. They had been fighting with each other less, content with their borders where they lay (not that anyone was trying to change their borders with Éire at this point), and they were all, in one way or another, keeping their eyes on the New World.
Maybe now it was possible.
England put the thought from his mind, and purred, pulling his half-asleep son closer as he walked Massachusetts Bay back to his room to tuck him into bed. His son grumbled a little, but didn't wake.
England smiled. The best part of the settlement of the New World was his children. They were not his first kids; England still remembered the North Sea Empire, after all, but these were the first kids he had that were just his.
He didn't share them with other nations, but…there was still a very real chance that they would die in war, die as they were conquered by the stronger states, like France and Castile and Aragon.
Perhaps that was why that old idea, the idea of unifying England, Alba, Cymru, and Éire into one nation, or at least under one crown, was so attractive to England.
It could offer security that could help his children to live.
England walked to the door, pausing before he exited just to keep an eye on his sleeping son. He knew how quickly one could lose everything, and how hard it was to keep going some days.
He…he wanted something better. But was that too much to ask?
·•—–٠᯽٠—–•·
"Hey, Mama, I have a question," England asked as he walked into his mother's room. If there was anything that made being a country easier, it was his mother, his uncles, and his aunts, all there to support him and counsel him. Not to mention how good they were with the kids.
It was why the idea had to be run by them first. It only made sense that they would be told before he ever uttered a word of the idea in the direction of anybody else.
Mercia looked up from the piano and smiled.
"What is it?" she asked, and England already felt less anxious, being able to speak with her about it.
"I…I was thinking. About my kids, and the New World, and how we are always seen as weak by others because we are small, and how…how I have a bad feeling, like a big storm is on the horizon," England began. The bad feeling could be paranoia just as easily as it could be hard-won instincts trying to warn him, and England didn't want to take the chance either way.
Merica hummed, gesturing for England to sit beside her as she did. England walked over and let his mama tuck him under her wings like she used to do when he was a newborn country prone to flying off and getting in trouble, all those many, many years ago.
"Do you really think something might happen?" Mama asked. England sighed.
"I don't know. But I don't want to lose any more kids. I…they're everything to me, and I worry. Maybe more than I should, but I worry," England said, "which is why I was thinking. Do you think the other three—" Mama knew who they were just as much as England did "—would be willing to try out some sort of union? Maybe something closer to Castile and Aragon. We remain ourselves, but we join together, show we are strong and offer our islands protection that we wouldn't have alone."
Mama stilled, then laughed. More out of surprise than anything else, but it still made England frown.
"I think you'd have a long road getting any union to happen. We're all stubborn as can be on these islands," Mama said. England's frown twitched back into a smile, as he knew that his mom had a valid point.
"It wouldn't hurt to try. Alba, Éire, and Cymru have kids, and we all know that Cymru's boy is barely clinging to life. Unity might save him. It might give all of them a better chance. Besides, you always say that we are family," England said with a cheeky smile at his mama. Mama purred out a laugh.
"I recall saying that we were distant family," Mama said. England shrugged.
"Family is family. Maybe it's about time we stopped fighting. Besides, it's not like what Dad did, when he convinced a lot of people to give up their lives to create me. We…we would create something that let everyone live," England said. He didn't know how realistic it was, but the idea had been with him for so long that he wanted to see that dream realized.
"A lot of work will be needed," Mama said, "but you're right, it's not impossible. It does have benefits. Talk to your aunts and uncles first. Northumbria knows Alba best; she can probably give you some advice for crafting your correspondence with him."
England nodded and began to stand up to do that before Mama stopped him.
"You can do that tomorrow. It's getting late, and you need a break from all this work. You just put the kids to bed, after all," Mama said, and England groaned.
"Mama, I'm not a kid anymore," England groaned, ignoring how that did, in fact, make him sound more like a kid.
"You're still my little dragon," Mama said, and England felt his face grow red with embarrassment. He took back everything he had said about how nice it was to have his mother around.
"Mama," England groaned, but let his mama pull him closer into a hug, until they were both purring softly.
He hoped his idea would work out. He had a perfect family already, but…distant as they were, they did share blood.
He hoped he would come out of this with a bigger family. He hoped some of them would listen, hear him out.
Kanawha had been weak her entire life. She knew why.
She knew how, she knew why, and she knew little could change it.
Until…until today.
She knew that her statehood was coming, as Virginia had already given his permission for her and her counties to leave his state, doing it with a smile.
Then she had submitted her constitution, which needed a few edits, naming something that declared all slaves emancipated, before her statehood was allowed to be confirmed.
And that had happened.
So now…she had just been waiting, with bated breath for the day when it would come, when she was no longer a weak proposed state that was fighting to be recognized, but a real, proper state of her father's country, a real state that has a voice and an impact and a say.
It was coming soon. She knew that. She had confirmed that she would be emancipating slaves and ending slavery in March, so she had to become a state soon.
The anticipation was worse than not knowing whether she would ever become a state in the first place.
She knew that her dad had been following the news of her statehood; she knew that he was trying to figure out when it would happen, but she was still waiting with little news anyway.
Kanawha also knew that when she became a state, her name was going to change. She wasn't going to be Kanawha anymore.
She was going to be West Virginia.
It wasn't like she hated the idea of sharing a name with her brother, but it also meant she was going to share a name with her biological mother, the mother that Kanawha wanted nothing to do with.
She had other names that were proposed well, ones that she liked a lot more.
Allegheny, Augusta, Columbia, and Vandalia, all names that had nothing to do with the state that she was not going to be a part of anymore, all names that didn't mark her as forever connected with the state she was trying so hard not to be like.
Western Virginia, New Virginia, and the name they finally picked, West Virginia.
She thought becoming her own state was going to change things, not make her more connected with the old Virginia.
She might not have been a state before, but with the name Kanawha, she wasn't connected with her mother. Her fucking bitch of a mother that she wished would just give up and let Virginia become the state like he was supposed to.
She had made her choice. She had decided to die, and Kanawha wasn't going to let her kill her brother.
She wasn't going to lose him.
Kanawha was with him now, curled up by his side as they both curled up together in her father's tent as he ran a hand through her hair, and Father wrote a letter to someone. There wasn't much to do, but Father always let them stay in his tent to escape their duties if they wanted to, which they had all taken advantage of a little bit.
It was nice to have a break, and even if he was a little distant, with the voices in his head and the people that took control, he was warm and kind in a way that Kanawha was sure her mother was incapable of ever being.
As Kanawha sat there, eyes fluttering as the warmth of her brother's body and the scratch of her father's pen slowly lulled her to sleep.
She wasn't sure whether it was the weakness or the all-consuming pressure of the war and her life hanging in the balance, but she felt tired more often than not.
She enjoyed the moments of peace. It soothed the anger in her mind and helped her become calmer.
It had been in that moment of peace when she first noticed it.
It had been sudden and slow all at once, something that jolted her from her exhaustion as if energy had been injected into her body, leaving her jittery, but also…also…
"Kanawha?" Virginia asked, his voice concerned, his eyes worried. Father was looking over at her in concern, too, eyes concerned and a hand over his heart. Kanawha smiled.
"I think…I think I am a state now," she said. Virginia laughed and knocked Kanawha over as he pulled her into a hug. Father joined the hug as well, keeping Kanawha warm and safe and whole and strong.
Kanawha laughed as well, pulling her arms around them the best she could, with how they were pressing her against her side.
She didn't want to be called West Virginia, but she…she was a state now.
Once again, the Union Army of the Potomac was getting a new general. It was a problem that was plaguing them all, their inability to keep a general for more than a few months, and every time they thought they got a general who would finally win them some victories, they learned that the general was useless after all.
It was exhausting.
James was tired of it all.
"Aren't we all. At this point, we're going to be the ones that cause us to lose," Charlie said, his voice sharp, and if he were in control of the body, James knew that he would be pacing like a caged animal.
"It's in the middle of a campaign, too. We're in the middle of operations, so this…this isn't great news. It's going to weaken our ability to respond, shaking up the command structure," Mabel said. Rebecca sighed, causing James to bite his lip. He hadn't realized she was here.
"This wouldn't have happened if we…if we had just been what we were supposed to be. We would have been safer. Less broken," Rebecca said, her voice quiet, but firm.
James sighed.
"We would not have," he said, before quickly changing the subject, "I just hope that General Meade is up to the task. We keep thinking we have the new general that is going to make things better, but…they are never enough. I just hope that this time we have finally found the person who is going to be enough for this damned army."
"Something tells me we haven't," Charlie said, "After the luck we have had, I just don't believe it."
And as much as James wanted to argue, he knew that Charlie was probably right.
Hawaii hated being a nurse. He hated all of this. He knew it was his purpose; he knew that it was supposed to help him be useful in times of war, but it was sickening.
The injuries were awful, and it made him sick. It made him sick to see people like this, and it made him sick to see what humans could do to each other, and it made him feel awful, thinking about what his mother had done, the injuries that she could have inflicted.
He was terrified of his own hands, terrified of every wound he patched up, as if he would somehow snap and make everything so much worse.
His power bubbled at his skin, but the fog kept it down, kept it controlled, and Hawaii couldn't be more grateful for that.
He didn't want to hurt people. He was supposed to be good, be a nurse, be a good thing, a good person, a good American.
But he didn't feel good.
He just felt sick.
"Come on, Hawaii, I have something that I need to show you," Missouri said, pulling Hawaii from his job, bandaging a wound. Hawaii nodded, finishing up his job before following Missouri to another injured soldier, one who looked as if he had just been brought into the hospital.
He was unconscious, but his face was still twisted in pain.
Hawaii's gut twisted, but Missouri had told him now that he needed to control his emotions, and Hawaii did his best.
He was going to be good.
"What do you need me to do, sir?" Hawaii asked. Missouri smiled.
"I know that you think that your fire is a curse, and I won't pretend like I don't remember the night that everything burned, but…fire can heal," Missouri said, and the part of Hawaii that had been trained to become an American territory, trained to be a good colony, trained to never hurt anyone like his mother did revolved.
But it couldn't revolt long. Not with the pleasant fog creeping in, demanding that he listen to Missouri, because Missouri was in charge of him right now, Missouri was the doctor whose orders he followed, and even though his education and training said one thing, he…he couldn't disobey what he had to say.
He couldn't, and that hurt, so, so much.
His head was in agonizing pain.
"How? What do you need me to do?" Hawaii said, and just asking for that seemed to make the pain clear up a little, as if it were happy that he was asking for further instruction.
"A way you can close a wound is by cauterizing it with heat. You have the ability to do that without any extra instruments. That is very important, especially as we move more into battlefield medicine. The more skills and things that you can do, the better that you will be at saving lives. Stopping bleeding is an important skill, and while cauterization isn't pretty, it is a skill that belongs to only you," Missouri said, his voice soft, his face kind.
Something in Hawaii's chest loosened a little.
His fire didn't have to be evil. It could be like Virginia's, a good fire, a controlled fire, a fire that brought good things, not more death and devastation.
He didn't have to be a terrible person. He could…he could be good.
"Should I do it now?" Hawaii asked, heating rising to his fingers. Missouri shook his head.
"Bandage this man. We can work on that tonight, when we are not trying to save lives. We don't need you making it too hot and killing someone," Missouri said, and Hawaii flinched but nodded.
"Of course, sir," Hawaii said, before retrieving a roll of bandages and going back to his work.
The idea that he didn't have to be cursed was…it was amazing.
He wanted to make it true. He would do anything that he needed to do to make it true.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅
Hawaii had expected his lessons to begin immediately. Instead, Missouri had gestured for him to sit down and began running his hands through Hawaii's wings.
Hawaii shrank in on himself as Missouri did so. Even if his curse wasn't actually a curse, he hated the wings, just like he hated the flag, just like he hated everything that reminded him of his mother.
"Your wings are really beautiful. It's very unique, and very different from Virginia's," Missouri said, and Hawaii shrank a little bit more. He knew why they were. He knew it was because they were wrong, not right and proper like Virginia's were.
"I know," Hawaii said. Missouri paused from his work, and…and Hawaii missed the feeling of his hands in his wings, missed how it seemed to soothe an itch that had been there for most of his life.
"That's not a bad thing. Just new. Are you interested in learning to fly?" Missouri then asked, resuming his combing of Hawaii's wings. Hawaii nearly laughed, the question feeling so dumb and unbelievable and…and…
"I…I could fly?" Hawaii asked. It seemed like something that hadn't been allowed, that he would never get to do, and…he didn't realize that it was something that he would be allowed to learn.
"If you wanted to, yes. You might be a phoenix, but you're still a bird, and…and keeping a bird grounded is almost painful," Missouri said, sounding as if he were speaking from experience.
Hawaii almost wanted to ask.
Almost.
"I…" Hawaii began, before pausing, the words catching in his throat.
You should always ask for permission before doing things. Never trust your own judgment because it is influenced by your savage blood.
"Hawaii?" Missouri asked, looking worried. Hawaii swallowed and tried to speak again.
"Would I…would I be allowed to? With the war and what…what my mom did. Would teaching me to fly be dangerous for others?" Hawaii asked, his voice quiet, even as he tried to make it louder.
"Maybe after the war, but…you're a bird. You deserve to fly," Missouri said.
The part of him that knew he had to obey Missouri nodded.
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Canada knew that everyone's mental health was…poor, to say the least. It didn't surprise him, not after everything, not with how…well, he didn't like to think about it.
Canada tried to keep an eye on his family anyway, fear with America, and worry with Britain.
Sometimes, he just wished this was a nightmare, never-ending, but maybe…maybe there was a chance to wake up to something better.
He knew better than to hope, and he knew his mind would never have invented the horrors that he had seen.
He wished anyway.
Canada was looking for his father, poking his head into the man's room.
"Dad, I was wondering—" Canada cut himself off as he realized what he was looking at.
Britain was sitting there, his sightless eyes glazed over, his hand tracing a pattern on his chest, his breaths short and weak, and Canada's gut twisted in horror.
"Dad?" Canada asked, but his father didn't move, didn't give a single indication that he had heard what Canada had said, his hand still over his chest.
Even though Canada blocked his telepathy, he should…he could still move, still let Canada know he was listening. But there was nothing, just like there had been nothing with America when he came.
Canada hoped this wasn't because of Oceania's powers or influence, that this was just something from the pain, because it hurt more than anything to see his father in this state, his father who was always so strong and never faltered, and who he had never seen weak before, because Canada hated that, but at least it wasn't anything like America.
At least if it was that father was still himself, not a mindless slave.
Because…compared to America, his father had always seemed so…okay. Injured, sure, but okay in the sense that his mind was still there.
Canada supposed it was his fault, for daring to hope that everyone who had been captured by Oceania was going to walk away with their minds intact.
But…it felt…wrong.
Having his dad back had made things feel more normal, and now…now that he was broken in this way, Canada was realizing that things were never going to be able to return to normal, and that his father had hidden vulnerabilities and weaknesses for a long time.
He was never the invincible figure that Canada had been raised to see him as.
Somehow, that was what hurt the most.
"Dad?" Canada then said again, breaking out of his thoughts as he moved closer, before pausing, limbs filling with ice as he saw what his father was tracing.
On his chest was a brand, containing Oceania's symbol, the one that had affected nearly every part of the world and was on everything anyone saw.
Canada felt sick.
He knew that his father had been a prisoner, but with that brand, it…well, Canada knew that nearly every object made by Oceania had that mark on it. It felt like it was a way to say that his father was a thing, not a person.
He hated it.
Canada moved his dad's hand off of the brand and hid it back under his dad's shirt.
He didn't want to see it any longer, and he didn't want his dad to continue scratching at it.
Maybe if he could just hide it away, they could both pretend that it didn't exist.
"Dad, please, come back," Canada said, because he had lost so many people, he had seen the very fabric of the universe change, and…he couldn't lose someone he had just gotten back.
Not after being given more hope than he had experienced in a long time.
Dad shifted, and some of the haunted glaze over his eyes began to clear.
There was silence, and Canada hoped it was just because Dad was trying to speak telepathically, not realizing who was there.
Not for the first time, Canada cursed his power.
It had been cool when he was younger, but now it just seemed like a curse—one that he would never be free of.
"Dad, I'm sorry that they did that to you. Whatever they wanted you to be, you're not. You're my dad. I promise you, Dad," Canada said, saying anything that came to mind, anything that might help.
He was grieving for the days when his dad comforted him, and Canada was not carrying the weight of survival on his shoulders.
"Canada?" Dad asked, voice weak and breaking. Canada nodded before remembering that his dad could not see that.
There are many worlds in existence. There are many paths that history could have taken. A single choice that dooms a world or saves it.
This is one of the worlds that is different than ours.
In most worlds, the Norman Conquest is successful. This is not one of those worlds.
The Norman Conquest did a lot for the British Isles, some more than others. Without it, much changes.
Maybe it is all not for the better, maybe some of it is for the worst.
But things have changed for all the nations of the British Isles, forever changing both their interactions with each other, their languages, their histories, and the very way that they view Europe.
Normandy changed a lot. Perhaps some things, like the invasion of Ireland and the fall of Cornish and Cumbric as more widespread languages, would have happened without her.
But some things only happened with her, and without her, things have changed.
Take England.
England was not put under Normandy's thumb in this world. He was never held down and had his wings cut off, locked away, and manipulated until he blindly accepted her teachings.
In this world, when Normandy came, his fight succeeded. The Battle of Hastings was a proud English victory, and Normandy lost her claims to England's throne, as Harold Godwinson's line became the new royal line of England.
England would never know how close he had come to losing himself and being irreversibly changed. It was just another battle for his throne, like the many battles with the Norse and the Danes he had had before.
England would keep his wings, keep the White Dragon, and the idea of adopting the lion as his symbol, or having French as the language of the elite, became laughable.
England would never know how his counties would never be given bodies, how close he could have been to becoming a father to so many, but he had not lost his chance at fatherhood, and he didn't know what he had lost, so there was no grief.
It wasn't like they died. They just don't exist in this world.
England would never gain the harsh cruelty that Normandy cultivated in him, after she strangled out his kindness. He would never be a perfect man, nor is any country, but he kept his soft kindness, the gentle love for his family and people that he was not afraid to express.
His mother would live, and his father's true memory would carry on. Cornwall would continue to be respected and loved, and England would accept Cumbric and Cornish as his, just as much as English was.
England's life would not be free of pain, but it was a lot better than it would be.
Wales' fate changed as well. The Norman Conquest had caused its own ripples across the isles, and without it, new ripples spread, different and unknown, and only theories in our world.
But in this world, without Normandy, Wales charted his own fate.
For one, there was no Normandy to murder Gwynedd, and Gwynedd would become Wales, like he should have to begin with, before that choice was taken.
Wales unified himself in the same pattern that many medieval kingdoms did, looking for new strength in a shared identity. Some of the old kingdoms would survive the transformation into counties, and Gwynedd-turned-Wales would keep his old family and friends for support.
They were worried about England still, their large neighbor with whom they shared a land border, but without England being consumed with the ideas of the French, he was still firmly Germanic-Celtic, and was still just as much friend as he was foe.
In either case, they had a shared history and understanding, and they worked together, and they fought each other, but they maintained their own separation.
Ah, and of course, we cannot forget about Scotland, the last of the nations on the isle of Great Britain.
Out of all the isles of Great Britain, Scotland felt the effects of Normandy the least. Things still changed for him.
England was a kinder man, more connected to his Celtic family and heritage, and because of that, he was less aggressive and had no desire to control and change Scotland. They fought because if there is a constant in every world, it is that England and Scotland will fight, but the cruelty from our world did not exist in it.
Scotland could never be subjugated, and neither could England, so they retained their disputes as petty squabbles and larger wars over borders and territories on those borders between the two of them.
He had been unified before Normandy, so compared to Wales or Ireland, he was in a strong position that he kept and fought for.
Scotland was Scotland. That remained the same.
And of course, there is the isle that sits on his lonesome, Ireland.
Ireland was not the one that was invaded by the Normans, but one could argue that he suffered the most from it, suffering for eight hundred years under brutal English colonization that did their best to stamp out the language, culture, and identity of the Irish, until Ireland won the fight and was able to restore himself, forever scarred and forever changed.
However, that invasion was called the Anglo-Norman invasion, and in this world, without Normandy, that invasion would never happen.
Sure, Ireland still fought his neighbors and conflict was a part of life, but he was independent and free, and was not under the English boot.
Ireland would be the last to unify himself, content with the squabbles of his island and the relatively ineffective power of the High King.
But as time passed and the countries around them grew stronger, they knew they needed to unify.
In most worlds, Ireland is helpless as his family is slaughtered. In this one, he gets to tell them goodbye.
Ireland is not a colony project or a land of savages. He is the country on the other island, independent and free, his language and culture strong, his identity his own.
Without the Norman invasion, much was different in this world, but in many ways, things were still the same.
The nations of the British Isles were still island nations, limited in what they could do. The colonization of the Americans still happened, and a lack of Normandy did not mean a lack of racism, nor a lack of pain everywhere.
And the nations of mainland Europe still had power and still proved a threat to these island nations, a threat that seemed to grow larger with colonization and a threat that spawned an idea.
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland would not exist here.
General Lee was confident that they needed a few major victories in the North in order to force them to surrender. It was what he had told Confederacy, based on the reports and news that he was getting from the North.
It was a promising sign.
While Father and Aunt Virginia and so many others had insisted that United States was stubborn, that he would fight until the end, his will meant nothing compared to his people and his government.
And Confederacy had read those sources.
The Yankees were tired of this war, and they didn't like what the Lincoln presidency was doing in order to keep it going, the lives he was sacrificing in an attempt to block their independence, block Confederacy's family's right to leave the country they created.
Confederacy was glad they were tiring of it. It made him more confident that there was a future in which he and his Grandfather could one day work together, one day share a space without fighting.
But to take advantage of these feelings and truly show that point, Confederacy knew they needed to win in the North.
President Davis thought that they should go help at Vicksburg, their last major fortification on the Mississippi, and Confederacy, of course, knew the importance of that place, but…they could not leave Virginia undefended, the capital undefended.
They could not abandon Maryland, whose mind had been taken from her in order to turn her into a weapon of the Union.
He knew that Vicksburg was important, but it was not worth abandoning the Eastern front, their place of success, and when General Lee ordered the march into Maryland, Confederacy had relaxed, knowing that they were not abandoning Virginia…or Maryland.
Missouri's hands moved with a hurried quickness as Michigan groaned beneath him, face twisted in agony even as he remained trapped in unconsciousness.
It worried Missouri, and even the pleasant bliss of marital law couldn't drown out the worry that was running through him.
He didn't know if Iowa or Minnesota knew that Michigan had been injured yet.
He didn't have time to inform them.
Michigan was still soaked through, and Missouri knew he was going to need to get Michigan's uniform off eventually, but he was more focused on stopping the sluggest bleeding, parting feathers with the expertise of someone who knew how wings worked, and…and…
You will not be emotional about your job. You are a doctor. You do as ordered. You fix the wounds no matter what.
Missouri remembered his orders.
He couldn't forget them. They echoed in his mind when he got too close to disobeying, when he needed the reminder, keeping him cradled in gentle arms that soothed the worry, that reminded him of when he was younger.
His jaw clenched as he pulled out some feathers, knowing it would hurt, but would be nothing compared to what would happen if the bullet wasn't pulled out.
It was the most concerning thing about his injuries, which was stopping the bleeding, but he had fallen from a great height and fallen into the river, and he could have broken bones or hypothermia or—
Missouri's thoughts were cut off by a bolt of pain, jagged and unforgiving, and his hands spasmed.
Missouri swallowed.
He hoped he didn't make anything worse.
He was going to save Michigan. He wasn't going to let his brother die.
And if he did, at least he would come back, but that was a cold comfort when he had still died.
That didn't mean Missouri wanted to see it. He hoped that Michigan would be stable by the time their sisters came.
He didn't want them to see Michigan in this much pain.
Mississippi had never been so guilt-ridden in her entire life.
She…she hadn't meant for this to happen.
She didn't think she would hit him. It had been some warning shots, something to try to scare Michigan away from the city before he got hurt. But that's not what happened.
She had hit him, somehow, in the most horrific way, in a one-in-a-million shot she knew she had never made before and would never make again.
She had hit her brother, he had fallen from the sky, and she hadn't seen what had happened ot him.
Oh god, he could be dead, and it would be permanent, and it would be her fault.
The war stopped being important after that.
She had maybe just killed her brother. She didn't know for sure, but she didn't know otherwise either.
She knew nothing. She might not know anything for a long time.
And that was what was the most terrifying thing about it. That was why she decided, hours after seeing her brother fall and being unable to sleep, every time she closed her eyes, seeing it again, that she…she just couldn't.
Vicksburg could hold out for a decade. Mississippi wouldn't be here.
She wrote a letter, one to be sent to Confederacy, confessing what she had done, and what she was about to do.
She looked at the false Missouri, the small girl who believed so strongly that taking Missouri's land would save him instead of kill him, and she wondered…did it really matter so much to get wrapped up in this whole mess?
She didn't think so. She really didn't think so.
Mississippi walked to Union lines with nothing, having left everything behind.
She didn't wake the false Missouri. She would find out what happened when she saw the letter, and by then, it would be too late for anyone to stop her.
Mississippi had committed a horrific crime, and…despite everything, he was still family.
Mississippi had to surrender, to better know what had happened to him, if he had miraculously lived, and…and because the guilt already haunted her, and fighting would only make it worse.
The soldiers shot at her as she approached, and even if a small, guilty, burning part of her whispered that it would be deserved, Mississippi raised her hands.
"I am the State of Mississippi, and I have come to surrender," she called, her voice carrying over lines.
They were quick to capture her after that.
All she could do was beg to know if her brother was alright.
Mississippi knew it had to be the next day by now. Daylight trickled in through her makeshift cell when the door opened, and Iowa walked in, hair tied back, uniform stiff, and eyes blazing with an anger that made her flinch.
"You're lucky Michigan and Missouri didn't want to be separated. You're lucky that Missouri knows things about wings. You're lucky he landed in the river," Iowa said, her voice cold. Mississippi didn't focus on that, though, collapsing bonelessly in relief.
"He's alive," she said, her voice faint, feeling so utterly exhausted.
"He's barely alive. Missouri hasn't left his side. He could still die. We hadn't been as worried, because even if he did, he could come back. Now he can't. If he dies, that's on you, and trust me when I say this, but the nation, and us, will never forgive you," Iowa said, the words angry, tears burning in her eyes as she looked at Mississippi with the utmost hatred, "If he dies, I hope Dad throws you out. Be a nation, if you want it so badly. I don't want to share a country with you."
The hatred in her voice was palpable, and all Mississippi could really do was look away. She knew she had no grounds to stand on; she knew she had no argument.
"I didn't mean to," Mississippi whispered, the only thing she could say.
"Don't give me that shit," Iowa said, wings flaring, "If you really wanted to not hurt us, you never would have left in the first place. I hope you rot. I know at least until this war ends, you're not leaving prison."
"Will I be allowed to stay here until Michi is stable?" Mississippi asked, her voice soft. Iowa scoffed.
"You're being transported to DC tomorrow. And don't call him that. His possible murderer isn't allowed to call him by nicknames. That's for family, which you firmly aren't," Iowa said, shutting the door with a bang.
The guilt was worse, and tears burned in Mississippi's eyes.
She hadn't meant for this to happen. She didn't want to kill him.
The war continued to be bloody. It was a fact of life now that it would be cold and hard and too bloody for America to want to progress.
It was endless back-and-forth battles over the same bits of land, battles that felt less and less like they mattered, even as the emptiness in his chest screamed for the missing pieces that made him whole.
Even as every new general seemed to find a new way to disappoint America.
"General Hooker, you do realize that this plan of yours makes us give up the high ground, right?" America asked, focused for once in this godforsaken war.
He knew that they didn't want to repeat the blood and death of Fredericksburg, but retreating back from the ground they already had, giving up the high ground that was always so vital in the midst of war…it didn't sound smart.
It sounded like an idea that would backfire and kill more of them.
"He was picked because we need more aggressive commanders," Charlie said, sounding so tired and annoyed, "and now…man, this is awful."
"We should try to have a little bit of faith in him," Mabel said, but even she didn't sound like she believed it; even she sounded a little upset.
"We are going to hold, to force the rebels to retreat with us at their back, or attack us and take the kind of losses that they cannot afford," General Hooker explained, though America wasn't sure how much he believed that would work.
"We have taken heavy casualties trying to take the high ground before. Are we sure that giving up what we have is smart?" America asked, a pain and pressure growing in his head, as he was entirely done with this idea, done with what this could cause.
"I have a plan, and it will work," General Hooker said. America just signed and nodded.
He knew this wasn't going to go anywhere.
"America, I have questions about the training your generals receive," Charlie said, and America tried to force his voice from his mind.
He really didn't think this was going to end well.
Confederacy kept looking at his new flag, still so ecstatic over it, a flag that was his, not based on his grandfather's, a flag that reflected the battle flag of the army that had helped him to preserve his independence and win this war.
The excitement of his flag did not outweigh his worry over the plan that had just been proposed.
"You want to divide the army? We're already outnumbered, General Lee, that could very well destroy us," Confederacy said, because for all the faith he had in his general and his ability to fight…the Federals had more of everything that they needed, and he did not want to lose this war.
He did not want to die.
It was bad enough that they were slowly being split in two, how they were losing badly out west, and if they began to lose here…
"Trust me, Confederacy. Their right flank is weak, and if we can break it, we can take back Chancellorsville and rejoin the two armies back together. We will distract them with fights on this flank to help ensure that they are unprepared for General Jackson's assault. Your father's division will be with them, and he will help ensure that it will go well," General Lee said, with a confidence that did make Confederacy want to believe him, even as the nervousness remained.
"I will try to trust you, General Lee, but if this goes wrong and my father is captured, I will not forgive you. I will not lose my father," Confederacy said.
He didn't talk about his fear of death, what he knew would happen to him if this failed.
He didn't want to make that General Lee's problem.
But if this did go wrong and his father was captured…would Confederacy get to see him again if things really took a turn for the worse and….
Alabama's hands tightened around his musket as their army began their march forward, into the weak right flank, at a time when they were bound to be unprepared, ready to break the Federal army and take back the city, force the invaders from their country.
Alabama prayed that it would go well, that it would not end poorly, because his son had been worried when he set out to march this morning, so worried that he would lose Alabama.
Alabama would not be caught.
He would not let his son lose his father.
Alabama began the Rebel Yell, with the others joining him as they ran forward into the Federal camp, watching the soldiers scramble away.
Their timing had been perfect, as they had been cooking, their guns stacked and put away, leaving them with no choice but to run, leaving behind dozens of weapons and artillery to be taken by their army.
Alabama laughed incredulously. They had worried this would end badly, but it couldn't have gone better.
They pushed forward, again and again and again, until night fell, with their approach to the town being stopped by Union fire.
Still, it had been a resounding success, and Alabama was riding that high, even as he knew fighting might continue, even as he knew that they were not guaranteed victory the next day.
General Jackson himself was riding out to inspect the Union lines, to see if there were good conditions for a night attack that could see them push forward even more.
Alabama was carving a stick with his knife, waiting for more news, when a young soldier ran up to him, out of breath.
"What isss it?" Alabama asked, tucking away his supplies. The man took a big gasp of air before answering, eyes wide with panic and fear.
"General Jackson was just shot by our troops," he said. Alabama was on his feet and running before he realized what he was doing.
Confederacy embraced his father as the two halves of the army united, as they began a unified push against the Federal troops.
The day had begun with worry, as Federal troops had prevented their two halves of the army from uniting, but then, as if they wanted to lose, the Federals had moved their troops and left the pathway clear, allowing them to march forward and band together.
General Lee had had his respect and trust before, but now Confederacy trusted him wholeheartedly, regardless of how crazy his ideas might sound.
General Lee knew what he was doing, and Confederacy trusted him to lead them to victory and to secure Confederacy's independence and freedom.
The Federal army was full of fools, and his army was strong and controlled.
Confederacy had the utmost faith in it.
"We're going to win thisss," Father said, his eyes bright with excitement. "We can pusssh them from Virginia."
"Maybe it will finally make them end this war, and let us all go home," Confederacy said. Alabama laughed.
"Don't think your grandfather is that easy to give up. We take Chancellorsville, then we should invade his country again. That will make him give up," Alabama said, as they watched their army crash into and drive the Federal army back.
United States hadn't wanted to fight, and yet she had decided to do this anyway.
Did she really know why? No, she didn't. But…the war was going well, and…it seemed like it would be a quick one.
Not to mention all of the people telling her that she had to learn what war was, that she would not be helpful in a major conflict if she didn't, that she needed to learn about war and how to fight.
It was almost bitterly ironic how they all changed their minds about her when it suited them.
When it was easy.
When it was convenient, when they thought United States needed to do more.
United States wondered what would have been done if her father had survived. Would he have been told not to fight because they were worried about his health?
She didn't know. She really didn't.
United States went to Cuba anyway, meeting up with the countryhuman and her brother, Florida, greeting them both with a smile.
She also knew that this was her chance to start building positive relations with Cuba, as they were allies and going to be allies in the future, since Cuba was going to gain its independence at the end of this war.
Even if her government wanted some insurance that he would not immediately turn on them after the lives they risked and lost coming to help him.
Very quickly, it became clear that Florida and her other siblings there were trying to keep her out of any battle.
United States hated it; she hated that she was being babied and constrained and told that she wasn't ever good enough.
She was meant to be a soldier, but she wasn't good enough to actually fight.
They needed to make up their minds about who United States was supposed to be, because she was tired of this nonstop back and forth, the endless confusion of what they wanted from her.
"Hey, Mae, how are you?" Florida said, walking over to sit beside her. United States sighed and pulled away, not wanting to deal with him or anyone else right now.
She was just so…tired of everyone and everything.
"Mae?" Florida asked. United States gritted her teeth.
"Can we not do this right now?" she snapped, her tone biting and cold, and Florida flinched back at it, eyes widening.
"Mae? What's wrong?" Florida asked, as if he couldn't believe that United States had snapped at him, which just made her angrier.
"I don't need this right now. I ask not to fight, and I get told to fight! I come to fight, and everyone tries to keep me away from the battles, telling me that because I am a woman I can't fight, not like my precious fucking Dad could have, so excuse me if I'm a bit tired of this false sympathy!" United States snapped, something burning in her eyes.
She didn't know why she was so angry. She didn't want to be this angry, but she was angry, and she…she couldn't fight the anger.
It just burned at United States, a buildup of every single bit of disrespect that she had been given in her short life.
Maybe it was wrong for a country to be this angry, but what did it matter when she was already wrong enough?
Florida stared at her with wide eyes, a vast array of emotions flickering through them that made United States want to run in the other direction, flee before anything else could go wrong.
"Oh, Mae, I'm sorry," Florida said, his voice sincere, which just made it so much more worse, knowing that he did care, even with everything that had happened, even with the way that everyone was treating United States.
He cared.
Why did that have to hurt so much?
"Then why don't you let me just…participate, or defend me when they say I can't because I am weak?" United States asked, because…she did love her family, but she needed to know.
She just needed to know why.
United States didn't know if it would make her feel better, but at least it would let her know why she was being treated this way, why her family seemed to also now be turning their backs on her, leaving her behind as so many of her people did.
"No, it's not that we think you're weak or don't want to defend you, I promise," Florida said, eyes wide as he began to stutter through an explanation. "I just…war is awful, Mae, and you've been through enough, and…I guess none of us wants you to see how awful it is."
"I will have to. This war is only the start. I'm a country, I can't avoid war. I will have to learn it eventually, so why not now? Some countries, like France, were born in war. This is nothing compared to that!" United States said, a bitterness on her tongue.
"Well, yes, but—" Florida began, before United States cut him off.
"But what? Because I'm a replacement, I am weak and can't handle it? Because I am not my dad, it's bad for me to be involved. Florida, just tell me, because I am tired of people talking around me and acting like I'm too stupid to notice!" United States said, tears pricking at her eyes.
Florida took a step back and swallowed before sighing.
"I promise," he said, voice gentle in a way that hurt, "For your family and me, it has nothing to do with the fact that you are our sister. We…we think you have a kindness and light to you, and we know what war does to that, and we wanted to protect you from it. Maybe we should have talked to you, maybe we should have made it your choice, but…we don't want to lose people. Not anymore."
Florida's voice was honest, and United States sighed, knowing that it still hurt.
"I know you don't want me hurt. But this hurts me anyway. Please, just treat me like an equal. That's all I want to be," United States said. Florida's expression closed off a little, and she nodded.
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Something with Weimar in the Golden Twenties as requested by @de-beano-of-loneliness. Just a reminder for this oneshot, that Germany is referring to Weimar, and Russia is the RSFSR (also modern Russia, but the USSR doesn't exist yet.)
Germany was not liked.
It was something that she had known all of her life.
It was not really her fault; she knew that. She knew it was the fault of her father and what he had done, the war that had killed him and birthed her, and she had…she had been the one to agree to peace, three days after her birth.
She had never fought in that war.
She had been the one to bring the peace.
That didn't matter to Britain and France. She was the personification of Germany now, and she had to bear the weight of her father's sin.
She knew she wasn't really alone, she had some human friends, she had her states, but her siblings wanted nothing to do with her, or were banned from speaking with her, and for a country with international ties, everyone treated her with a coldness that felt as if they all saw her as beneath them, not an equal but something they would rather be rid of.
Something evil and cruel, not someone who wanted so desperately to move past who her father had been and what he had done.
It was a lonely existence, one that hurt more than she wanted to admit to anyone.
That's what this treaty, which would be signed in Italy, was so important to her.
It was….it was a chance to make a friend.
Someone who was in many ways a kindred spirit.
Russia, the one they had now, at the very least, was also new. He had been born almost a year before Germany, but unlike her, his country was pulling itself apart faster than he could keep it together.
It seemed a lot more stressful than Germany's two, almost three, years of loneliness.
It was why, in preparation for this treaty, she had agreed to recognize him as the sole Russian government, something that she guessed would mean a lot, as he was kept just as isolated as she.
Helping him felt right, as if in some way, it was also helping her.
In the same breath, it made the causal cruelty of some of the other countries hurt all the more. It wasn't hard to be kind.
Though perhaps she was a bit of a hypocrite. After all, part of the reason why she and Russia were signing this treaty was so, maybe someday, they could both get some of their land back, the land that had been taken and made into Poland.
Germany did not want to be the warmonger she knew everyone feared she was, but at the same time…well…they made too many choices for her. Was it wrong to want choice back, to right all of the unfair wrongs from the treaty she had been made to sign before she knew everything about the war, new and confused, and being told so much by so many people?
Germany had arrived early and was squeezing her hands together. She wanted to pace around, but didn't want to be caught in the act when Russia came. She was anxious, and she wanted this to go well, and while she had met Russia before, this was…this was different.
In many ways, it was a new start for them both, a way to find allies outside of the order and demands of Britain and France.
The door opened as Germany was staring at her hands, thinking of all the ways that this could go wrong, and her head jerked up as Russia entered.
He smiled sheepishly when he saw her reaction, icy blue eyes stark against the red of his flag, and Germany felt her embarrassment grow.
"Sorry, I hope I didn't keep you waiting," he said in French, the language of diplomacy. Germany shoved down her anxiety and forced a small laugh.
"It's not something you need to worry about," Germany said, responding in the same language, "I came early. This is an important moment for me."
"It will be nice to have someone with whom you are friendly diplomatically, considering the fate of your father's allies," Russia said, sitting down. Germany laughed, something bitter about it.
"Britain and France love to tell me that we have friendly relations. I wonder if they just think I am stupid." Germany said, knowing that Russia would probably understand. They both had a uniquely condescending air about them, and they spoke as if they expected the world to bend for them.
"They might. They aren't exactly fond of either of us," Russia said, before sighing, "But let's not make this about them. This is about our future. You know the basic terms of the treaty?"
Germany snorted.
"How could I forget," Germany said, before shrinking in a little but at how that could be misconstrued as rude, clearing her throat, "Renouncing all territorial and financial claims against each other to allow us to open more friendly diplomatic relations."
It was the financial one that was going to be best for her, with the heavy economic pressure that Britain and France had given her. She was glad that the United States had not signed the Treaty of Versailles. She did not need a greater financial burden.
The one she had already weighed on her, ever-present and growing ever heavier.
Russia smiled.
"It will be nice to have a friend," he said, and Germany smiled back.
"Is that what we are now?" she asked. Russia's eyes glinted, and he didn't back down as he shrugged.
"Why not? We might have different histories, our parents might have similar crimes, but…we're both descendants of empires that have done a lot of bad, and it seems to me that we both want to do a lot of good, so…why not?" Russia said, and it was a sentiment that Germany knew was perhaps a little too idealistic for their kind, a sentiment that…that could mean very little in a year.
It was a sentiment that was perhaps stupid to believe, and maybe she was just really lonely. Maybe she was stupid.
"I would like to have a friend," Germany said, signing the treaty, "To us, I guess."
"And to spite those that would rather see us weak. We can show them that we are strong, and that we will make a brighter future for our people," Russia said, taking the treaty as she passed it over, his smile sharp.
Germany nodded.
It was something that could allow for a brighter future.
America wasn't sure why General Burnside had brought him to this midnight meeting with President Lincoln. He knew General Burnside was under fire for what had happened at Fredericksburg, even if his memory of what exactly had happened there was spotty at best and non-existent at first.
He knew that his army needed better generals, and he knew…he knew that there were only so many people that he could go through, but…America didn't know where he stood.
He didn't think he could support General Burnside's actions, but…did he really want to risk replacing another general?
"You might not be given a choice in that matter," Mabel said, and America hummed, knowing…knowing she was probably right.
When they arrived at the meeting, America could pick up a tension in the air.
"President Lincoln, I am sure that you have heard of the officers trying to undermine me, and I will let you know that I have a plan to deal with them," General Burnside said, pulling out a piece of paper that had plans to fire every single officer that he believed was guilty of insubordination.
"Some of those people have just criticized him!" Mabel said, and America could feel her creeping closer, as if she were trying to take control of the body.
America gritted his teeth.
"General Burnside, you did not make me aware that this was what you wanted from this meeting. You cannot fire every officer who insults you. We need qualified people in the military," America said, blinking through his disbelief and the pressure in his head.
"Some of these men have called for me to be removed, and have visited President Lincoln and have asked him to. Is that not insubordination?" General Burnside asked. America sighed.
"It could be, but Fredericksburg was a horrifying battle for everyone. You cannot blame them for being upset at the death toll. We had all expected and wanted a short war when this began, and it has turned ever more bloody," America said, trying to keep his voice calm.
"Still, we need to fire these officers before their inability to respect me as a commander causes more death. And if you do not let me do this, then I will resign from the army, and you can manage the war without me," General Burnside said, offering an ultimatum that fit some of the tantrums his children had had when they were younger.
"He can't possibly think he is worth more than the dozens of officers he wants fired, does he?" Mabel asked.
"I don't know. We have had a bad run of generals. Damn all the ones that left to join the south," James said, having come up sometime during the conversation. America sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up some.
"General Burnside—" America began, before President Lincoln cut him off.
"General Burnside, I cannot accept this deal, and therefore, I will be relieving you of command and transferring you to a different post," President Lincoln said, before turning to America, "Is there any general that would be a good replacement?"
"General Hooker." James and Mabel said in near unison, and America repeated their request, trusting James' judgment at the very least.
General Burnside looked furious, but President Lincoln nodded.
"I was thinking of that too," President Lincoln said, before turning back to General Burnside. "Thank you for your service."
America couldn't help but feel awful that they had needed to remove another general from their position.
Michigan had known that the battles in the East were not going well, which made him all the more glad that the battles for them were going well, so they would have some victories to make this war feel less like them being beaten by their rebellious siblings.
It also helped that General Grant was competent, something that seemed to be true of every general out East.
So when Michigan learned that General Grant had been placed in charge of the Army of the West, he was excited.
General Grant was a good general and had been the reason behind many of their victories, and unlike the generals in the East, he could do his job properly.
He had been appointed the general in preparation for the upcoming attack against Vicksburg, a battle that was going to be vital for the Anaconda Plan, as it would allow them to divide the rebelling states into two and give them complete control over the Mississippi.
If they were lucky, it would end things all the more sooner.
And Michigan really wanted it to end soon.
He was tired…tired of war, yes, but more importantly, he was tired of seeing Missouri, seeing his brother, trapped by the martial law he had asked for.
Michigan wanted his brother back.
The sooner this war ended, the sooner he would get him back.
He didn't really care what they called him. He knew that he could not fight his family, his mom, his siblings, so many people that he loved.
Maybe for some people, a refusal to fight for the Union was about slavery, but…he didn't want to fight his family.
It was why he had still secretly been in contact, why he had turned a blind eye to his people that were providing aid, why he…why he refused to be anything but neutral, or as neutral as he could be.
He wouldn't betray his family and his country.
He wouldn't fight them either.
It seemed, however, that the government was no longer giving him a choice in that matter.
They had just implemented a new draft, one that would require every male citizen or immigrant who applied for citizenship between the ages of twenty and forty-five to join, unless, of course, they could pay their way out of it.
That was what Delaware planned to do, unless they forced him to join anyway, the only state that wasn't fighting.
Delaware didn't know what it would be, what it would bring.
He just…he hoped he would not be made to fight.
And…he hoped that his mind would be allowed to remain his own when it was all said and done.
If he refused to fight with this draft… would he go under martial law too?
Perhaps that was why he still wrote to his rebel siblings.
For someone he could talk to without the burden of duty and necessity, and without the harshness that came from the sting of betrayal.
Delaware needed to get his thoughts out sometimes, to people more willing to listen.
That was the same reason for his newest letter.
Dear Mom,
I am sure that by the time you get this, you have heard about how the government has established a draft. I do not yet know if it means they will make me fight, but I hope and pray that I will not be made to fight.
The government does not have the guarantee for me that they do for Mary and Souri, and while I have reminded you that I do not want to betray my father, I wonder if they believe that. My inaction speaks loudly, especially since I am one of the few slave states not to betray my family.
I have no intention of fighting for either side, and even with this draft, I want it to remain that way.
I wonder, now with the draft, with the lessening excuses I have to avoid combat, if they will finally do to me what was done to Missouri and Maryland, and take my mind from me, and ensure that I do fight, and that I cannot feel the same sympathies I do now.
I hear about the war, Mother, and it sounds bloody and awful, and I hate to imagine what you are all being made to see, especially with how young my nephew is.
Stay safe, and know that you are forever in my heart.
Nova Scotia had been surprised when her cousin rebelled.
Out of everyone, he was the most favored, the most agreeable, the one who relied on Britain the most. He was mild-mannered and compliant, especially with his memory issues. He seemed content to stand at his father's side, forever quiet, obedient, and loving.
Colonies' only issue was his memory, but aside from that, he had been the perfect colony, not to mention the most adoring father to his son. Sure, sometimes he acted as if he were a small child, sometimes he was willing to let Britain take away any control that he had and play the part of a son who needed his father, but he was a good father when he acted old enough to be one.
Typically, whenever Britain wasn't around.
It was weird, and it was sometimes scary, how he was never the same person every day, though it seemed to scare Colonies more than anyone else.
Perhaps that was why Britain always held him so tightly.
But, more than anyone else, he was the best and refused to see the abuse his father put him through. It was as if he never remembered the blows. Perhaps he didn't.
So, Colonies had rebelled, and his son had joined him.
Britain seemed to think that the rebels had forced Colonies and New York to join them, that they had taken advantage of Colonies' conditions, all the little issues that had never been solved.
But speaking to Colonies, he almost seemed…more put together than before, as if his mind was in a better state.
Had it been independence that had done that? Or something else?
Nova Scotia didn't know, and she had asked if she could speak with New York, learn more from him, the only one in the family that seemed to understand Colonies' moods and memory, but Colonies had flinched and refused when she asked.
It had led to a sinking feeling in Nova Scotia's stomach, and she often wondered what exactly happened to New York. She hoped that just like she and St. John's Island had been captured by Colonies (which was a surprise in and of itself), New York was captured by Britain, save in his hands and not…not dead or imprisoned by the rebels.
She held her theories close anyway, knowing that Britain would want a report, knowing that Colonies were willing to speak with them, and after all this was over, someone had to know what happened to New York.
Perhaps that was why she said nothing about being Colonies's prisoner and took the injustices that came with that.
"Mama," Nova Scotia heard St. John's Island ask, and she pulled herself from her thoughts and worries and turned her attention to her don, too young for this war, who should have stayed behind, but Britain had been so paranoid about his other American colonies, and had demanded they all fight regardless of what that meant, in order to prove to him the were loyal.
"Yes, Eòin? What is it?" Nova Scotia asked, her voice gentle.
"I miss Grandpa. I want to go home. Why don't we try to escape?" St. John's Island asked. Nova Scotia smiled sadly. "Colonies isn't a real country. He doesn't really have us, and we don't need to respect him."
Nova Scotia then sighed, knowing that St. John's Island had a good point.
"Because it lets us keep an eye on Colonies, so we can report back to Britain. Colonies is alone, and that means he can be taken advantage of."
"Because of his memory?"
"Yes. While I can't say everything in my letters back to father, but I can help them understand him, which will be helpful once we win and reintegrate him back into the family," Nova Scotia said, thinking of how her cousin looked, back straight and eyes older and more focused than she had ever seen from him.
It was as if he had grown up in a way that two hundred years of being a colony had not done for him.
Nova Scotia still loved her cousin, but there was something different about him now.
"I don't…I don't want to forgive him. I hate being here," St. John's Island said, something Nova Scotia understood. She hadn't wanted to be a prisoner either, but this was their fate, and they needed to make the best of it.
"Colonies wasn't there when we were captured, and you know he has been looking after us the best he can," Nova Scotia said. Even as their prison was moved, Colonies visited at least once a month, and there was always a wistfulness that had Nova Scotia thinking he was not as committed to this cause as he pretended to be.
Why else would he come so often and never ask for any information? He was there for them, for family.
Nova Scotia only wished that gave her more answers.
"I know, but…I hate it. We're supposed to be the spirits of part of their country, but they look at us like we are evil," St. John's Island said, and Nova Scotia pulled him into a hug and held him tight. She was glad that he was not alone in this, as it seemed to weigh most heavily on him the words and insults of the rebels.
Not to mention how, despite Colonies' best efforts, they were mistreated.
"I know," Nova Scotia said, "but Father and Britain will see them punished. We just have to hold out."
Even though she thought about escape more than she could say. Even as she thought about returning to her land and sending all of the information she had to Father and Britain. Even as she thought about that, she couldn't.
Colonies shouldn't be left alone. Someone in their family should keep an eye on him.
It was a rule that had been created due to his memory issues, due to the fear he would forget too much and wander off.
Now that she had a chance to keep that rule ongoing, it felt wrong to just…abandon it.
Perhaps she shouldn't feel this much sympathy towards someone rebelling.
Recording of an Interview with Sussex, the 30th of December 2021, Interviewed and Transcribed by Maria Simon.
[start recording]
Maria Simon: 30th of December, 2021. Interview with Sussex about the Norman Conquest. Now, you came to us wanting to talk about this, alongside some other counties. Would any of you like to explain why?
Sussex: Well, I think everyone knows that a few years ago England regrew his wings, which started a point where we could talk with him about how…how much the Norman Conquest changed for us, how it changed us, and how bad it really was, something that we hadn't really done before. And…it's been a while since then, and I know it was a long time ago, but I think it's important that we do talk about it and explain…how it changed us, especially since our refusal to talk about it before has affected the narrative that exists now.
Simon: I see. And, just to clarify, England grew those wings in 2007. Was that the 'few years ago' you mentioned?
SSX [laughs]: Yes. I guess that was a long time ago, but it does not feel that way. We…we spent so long in denial about…everything that the time we have been able to speak about it feels so short in comparison.
Simon: Well, I don't have any guiding questions, so why don't you just speak about your experiences?
SSX: Well, it was not the first time we had dealt with invasions. Denmark had been in control before, enough that we had a working relationship with her. Normandy was different. Unlike Denmark, which worked with us counties and England to control our land, Normandy didn't want to work with us; she wanted all of us to be her underlings, to be obedient and loyal and never…never think about before she was there. She made it clear that she was in charge now, and we would accept that.
[silence for 6 seconds]
Simon: Are you okay?
SSX: Yeah, just…thinking about what to say next. Uh, the worst part about her invasion was the fact that she took England. Not as in his land, but as in him. She locked him away and didn't let us see him, and we just had to take her word that he was okay. The next time we saw him, his wings had been cut off, and he…he was different. It had been a few years by that point, and...well, Normandy had forced him into line. I don't want to theorize as to what happened, and England is still processing it, but…I know it was bad, and I know by the time we saw him again, England was both terrified of her and adored her, and would do anything Normandy said. And…he didn't realize, or want to accept, that he had been hurt or abused by her until recently.
Simon: That must have been terrifying.
SSX: It was. His father was Wessex, my brother, and I had promised my brother I would look after his son, and I had failed. And England was young, by country standards, a little over a hundred. He…a part of him was killed in the Norman Conquest, and I have never been able to forgive myself for not fighting harder to protect him.
Simon: I'm sorry.
SSX: It's okay. I am working through that with my family now. We've been closer since it became easier to talk about this, and…it's been nice. I know…I know some of the others are going to talk more about how England changed and details they know, but thinking about that sometimes makes me sick with guilt. England was a good kid before the conquest, sure, scarred by the violence of his childhood, but kinder and softer in a way that Normandy forced out of him. Sometimes I wonder if England could have been a better father without Normandy's presence. It's a joke with the former colonies that the cycle of violence started with Normandy, and that because of her, England and UK ended up the way that they were. And…I know that that is kind of true. I know that her presence can still be felt. Maybe the Norman Conquest as a whole doesn't affect the people the way it affects us, but…it hangs over our family. More than I think anyone truly realizes.
Simon: That sounds awful.
SSX: That's just the way that it was. My brother can tell you more; we all interacted with her in different ways. She had her own ways of controlling us and getting compliance, and…sometimes I wonder what would have happened if she hadn't divided us so well.
Simon: There are a lot of what-ifs.
SSX: More than you could ever imagine. I think you've heard enough from me. I am going to send in Essex now.
Recording of an Interview with Essex, the 30th of December 2021, Interviewed and Transcribed by Maria Simon.
[start recording]
Maria Simon: 30th of December, 2021. Interview with Essex about the Norman Conquest. Your brother just started talking to us, if you want to continue that format. I don't have any interview questions really prepared.
Essex: Right. Yeah. Sussex really wanted us to talk about this, so people know. Uh…well, the first thing that you should probably know about me is that I'm the sellout. That was my role in everything Normandy did to us. I sold out. I don't…I don't know what about me Normandy thought was controllable, but she told me that if I provided her information on the old countries, and their loyalties and feelings toward her, I would be allowed to see England. I had to…I had to reinforce her ideas, and maybe through that, I fucked up my nephew more. I…but I loved him, and I wanted someone to be able to be there for him. I said yes. I still feel guilty about that.
 Simon: What was that like?
ESS: I was lying to everyone in my family to save the person ripping it apart. I hated it but…I got to check on my nephew, and maybe he was changed, but he was alive, and we…had worried a lot about that, especially when she cut off his wings and showed them to us. I got to be there. I betrayed my brother and cousins, but England got to talk to someone who wasn't completely under Normandy's thumb, even…even if it felt that way sometimes. He got someone older who remembered before and gave him support that Normandy had taken away.
Simon: There were no good choices, where there?
ESS: No. We just made the best choices we could. I sold out. Northumbria and Durham fought. Cornwall and Devon hide and…it sucked. I was able to get to know the new countries, though, and that was important because even though they were his kids, even England really wasn't seeing them in those early days.
Simon: Why is that?
ESS: Same reason Britain raised his grandkids. If England raised them, that gave him more power, and Normandy was already dealing with the old counties being disobedient, and didn't need the new ones being in the way as well. And… well, Normandy was trying to make England feel young, more like a kid who needed her guidance. Kids don't raise kids. And…for unlucky ones like Middlesex, they were not even treated as family. She was a lady-in-waiting. They didn't know anything else, and there's a bigger rush being served and obeyed by countryhumans as opposed to humans.
Simon: I see. Do you think it was a mistake to get her trust the way that you did?
ESS: I regret the betrayal, but one of us had to be there…I think that was for the best. I'm….I'm done now.
Recording of an Interview with Northumbria (Northumberland), the 9th of January 2022, Interviewed and Transcribed by Maria Simon.
[start recording]
Maria Simon: the 9th of January, 2022. Interview with Northumberland about the Norman Conquest.
Northumbria: Oh, god, just call me Northumbria. I hate that new version of my name; it sounds awful. Put Northumbria on the documents from this interview as well.
Simon [laugh]: Oh, alright. I will be sure to do that.
NBL: Good. Now, I was not there when Normandy came. I was up north, keeping an eye on the situation there. Everyone else was focused on the south and Normandy, and I was staying to keep an eye out for the Norse to see if they would come back. Norway had been with the initial invasion, so that was a worry.
Simon: When did you learn about Normandy winning and the others being prisoners?
NBL: Legally. England was the only one who was actually locked away. He was the hostage meant to ensure the cooperation of my cousins and sister, and to ensure that he could be molded into Normandy's lackey, to solidify her ownership. I…it scared me. England being captured was also meant to solidify my cooperation. And…I didn't see it until much later, but Normandy had cut off his wings.
Simon: What was that like?
NBL: It was scary, though I was not experiencing it myself. I…I was willing to fight. I am…I am not willing to talk about the specifics of what. I don't know if I would ever be, but my attempt at fighting back for my nephew and newborn son failed. Normandy ensured I paid for it, and I still have the scars. Durham and I were imprisoned for years, and some days, it felt as if she would never free us.
Simon: Was it similar to how England was imprisoned?
NBL [laugh]: No, England's prison was a gilded cage made to foster obedience and love. My cage was just a cage. So was Durham's. We were kept close enough to see each other, but anytime we both tried to communicate, we were punished. Normandy freed us eventually, but forced us to swear oaths of loyalty and tried her best to keep us from our land, even to the point where it hurt us.
Simon: Did you also experience the idea that England had changed?
NBL: I came back, and my sister was dead and my nephew a different person who struggled to call me aunt, because not only was I a traitor, but me being his aunt threatened Normandy's narrative that Mercia was not England's mother, but that Normandy herself was.
Simon: Why did Normandy push that narrative?
NBL: Control. The parent country controls their child. The parent is older, wiser, and the child is meant to obey. By making that narrative, she forced the social norms of that relationship on England. It's complicated, and I don't know how well it translates for humans, but mother is not just a family term. Mother, father, that means they are a predecessor, or if they live at the same time as you, a force meant to control you, and who you are meant to obey. If Normandy claims that title, she claims control. She claims the idea that she was an important part of making England and his history. She claims a lot, and once England believes that, he absorbs these implications. It's why adopting a colony you took from someone else becomes so important in the colonial era. It's a very powerful cultural thing for countryhumans.
Simon: I see. Do you think that humans of the era were aware of what she was trying to do?
NBL [laughs]: She never tried to hide it. We knew. We could never know otherwise. She did what she needed to ensure that we cooperated or could not be a threat, and to ensure she controlled England, because if he is under her control, he can ensure his people are there as well.
Simon: Very complicated then.
NBL: Yes, very. Everything was changing and…I was away from a lot of those changes. It was pain that was hidden by a fucked up notion of love that we all carried with us and forced more and more into families. I think that's all I have to say. Remember, Northumbria, not Northumberland. That name is stupid, and I stand by that.
Simon [laughs]: I will. We might still have to have Northumberland for legal and categorization reasons. It is your modern name.
Recording of an Interview with Cornwall, the 15th of January 2022, Interviewed and Transcribed by Maria Simon.
[start recording]
Maria Simon: 15th of January, 2022. Interview with Cornwall about the Norman Conquest. So what did you want to talk about?
Cornwall: Well, England's father Wessex was a good friend of mine. He had extracted a problem from me, to look after England, as we were not sure the old counties would survive, and he wanted his son to have someone to look up to, to ask for advice. Many countryhumans are alone at birth. Wessex didn't want his son to be. Wessex and I were cousins, so I was England's aunt. After his birth, England's mother Mercia had survived, so she did raise him. England always has someone. His mother, aunts, and uncles, all looking out for him and providing needed support. He was a good kid.
Simon: Then Normandy came. How did that change things?
CON: Well, Normandy could barely handle the Anglo-Saxons being different, let alone me. She…she wanted her control over him, through the pseudo familial relations. She saw Mercia as a threat and ensured she was killed, and had I been more involved in raising England than Kent or Northumbria and…well, Kent knows who to keep her head down, and Northumbria got decimated in the harrying, so I learned to keep my mouth shut and head down, and learned what I could from letters. My saving grace was being a people's personification. Even now, we are overlooked. Still, it hurt, having to stay away from my family even as the conquest gave me my son. I threw my focus into raising him, hoping it could soothe the pain. It didn't.
Simon: Do you think it was better not to be there?
CON: Worse. I had no idea what was happening and heard everything through rumors and letters. And those ended as we grew more distant, and then it was as if I had never been family at all. I wonder if England still remembers or if he repressed it.
Simon: Do you think he would have?
CON: Trauma changes you. Whatever is needed to survive, damn the rest. Especially with how long it had been again. Even our memories fade. It was…it was just something we didn't mention after a while, because even though it changed us all, some of us just wanted to pretend that it had never happened. That's why we're all finally talking about it. As for me, I think that is all you need to hear from me. We want to avoid getting too personal, and I was not as involved.
Recording of an Interview with Wales, the 15th of February 2022, Interviewed and Transcribed by Maria Simon.
[start recording]
Maria Simon: 15th of February, 2022. Interview with Wales about the Norman Conquest. I didn't expect to hear from you since you aren't English.
Wales: Well, one should remember I wasn't even technically alive yet, it was Gwynedd, but I have those memories, and I think of it as me and…England was softer then, and I have to remember that, and I want to talk about it. Don't take the idea of England being softer to mean that he was not a country; he still was, but he was kind. I had only been vaguely aware, but Normandy forced England to have new loyalties. Even before, he had only been part Celtic, the odd one out. Normandy, she sort of gave him the Norman identity and a family to be associated with that. It…it would be nice if she hadn't cut off his wings, isolated him, and then taken over everything she did. She wasn't trying to give him a place to belong.
Simon: She sounds awful, based on everything I have heard. Why had none of this been recorded before?
WLS: No one likes to write about their countryhuman being abused. Besides, from what I remember, Normandy kept that out of the public eye. Her control over him was flaunted to countryhumans. It was a warning and a threat. I still remember how she liked to sit on her throne, pet his head, and talk as if he were not there. England doesn't talk about that much. But…it was clear that he was being abused, that Normandy had forced submission while fostering adoration.
Simon: Why do you think he loved her, if that is not too personal?
WLS: Why does Britain love England, and Britain's children love him? I don't know how she got England to love her, but once she did…well, it's amazing what you can do to hide the abuse.
Simon: Others have mentioned or implied that Normandy started a cycle, so to speak.
WLS: I think that there's a truth in that. Removing the countryhuman stuff, Normandy wrecked England emotionally. We could all see it. I remember when I was made to live with them for the first time. England…he was very dependent on her. Changed himself for his so-called mother. It was scary, but looking back, it was his way of surviving, and I can't blame him for that. Normandy killed Merica and me because we refused to pretend that she was his mother. Knowing that, I see why he would obey, the way he was terrified of her, whether he downplayed it or ignored it. But…if he hadn't been so messed up by that, if he had been given time to recover from that abuse, to be given a better model of parenting that wasn't tainted by later abuse, maybe he could have been a better parent. But he wasn't, and he fucked up Britain, and Britain fucked up his skids, and some of those kids fucked up their kids. Maybe it would have happened regardless, but we have all attributed Normandy to be the start of it all.
Simon: I see. It's a heavy topic.
WLS: Yeah. I wouldn't go asking anyone about it willy nilly, but…I don't know, I think it's good for breaking the lie we had been telling, and through that, helped England finally heal. We hope. All sorts of new wounds have opened, but we think we might finally be really working through it.
Killing Oceania hadn't ended things, but it had marked the beginning of the end for it all.
It was the beginning of a new future, one without the weights and chains of Oceania, and Eastasia, and Eurasia.
The world was not the same as it was before.
Everything was different.
But they were also free, and in the end, isn't that what matters most?
The end of the totalitarian regimes was not forgotten, and on the anniversary of the day things finally turned around for them, the day that things began to look like they could get better, truly, the surviving countries celebrated.
It was a more personal affair, celebrating those who were lost and those who survived it all.
And for many, it was a way to see that people they cared about were still alive, still healing, and getting better.
It was hard, but it got better every year, with more and more things to laugh about.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
America always ended up in a corner during these parties. It wasn't his fault; he just wasn't comfortable with eyes on him.
There had been enough after he killed Oceania, and even more from people whom he had met and hurt while under Oceania's control (which he still barely remembered, thank God), and for better or worse, eyes were always on him.
It wasn't as bad as it had been in the first years of the party, first to celebrate Oceania's death, then to how Eurasia fell to infighting, and then Eastasia falling to India and the rebel groups that supported her.
He liked these events, he did but…man were they too much at times.
"Hey, Dad, hiding again?" West Virginia asked, sliding over with a plate of food.
"You know me too well," America said with a smile. "How's New England?"
"Still being regaled with the tale of how India managed to keep her independence and then help destroy Eastasia," West Virginia said. America laughed, smiling widely.
New England was formerly Northern Administrative Region Three, someone who was born and raised under Oceania's regime, someone who knew nothing other than obedience and pain. It had been hard to teach him how to be a person, but since America had still been figuring that out himself.
It wasn't just them, but also Midwest, formerly known as Northern Administrative Region Four, and Dixieland, formerly known as Northern Administrative Region Seven.
(America knew there was history with that name, but Arkansas had fought so hard for it, to name the girl who personified most of its southern regions, the siblings that Arkansas missed so dearly, and America had given in.)
Helping them had helped America, and while he would never be free of what Oceania had done, the physical scars had long since healed, and most of his memory of before Oceania's rule had been restored, and that was…so nice to have, to really, truly, remember.
It was so wonderful to see them heal, to see them live and thrive, and America might not ever be sure who was their parent, but they were his in all the ways that mattered, and he adored them all the more for it.
"I'm glad he's interested in learning," America finally said, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice and smile, as he spotted his son through the crowd, a grin on his face that said more than words ever could.
"Me too. It's…it's nice, Dad, to have this," West Virginia said. America pulled her into a side hug.
"You're right. It's nice to know that we can still live," America said, looking around, seeing more and more faces of people he knew, people he loved, and people he was happy to still see alive.
Living was so much more important than surviving.
He was glad that they all seemed to finally be remembering that.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Canada felt free in more ways than one.
For one, Oceania was dead, and he was in command of his own country again.
For another, he had finally gotten the surgery that would make him male, finally putting an end to all the arguments that certain people had that he had only been presenting as male to hide.
But that was who he was.
It was the only good thing that had come from Oceania's reign, the chance to be who he was, to act in that way and fashion, and…they all came out of it as changed people. Canada just took the chance to change in a few other ways as well.
It was good to have Northwest Territories back, too, to have him rejoin their family, save him from the fate that had befallen him.
Canada wished…he wished that Quebec had lived to see this day, but that just gave him all the more want to continue to live, to live on in his memory.
Their family would never be the same level of complete again.
But against all odds, some of them had survived.
That meant more than anything else.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Britain's sight had never returned. England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland seemed permanently lost, unable to be summoned or called, even as more and more time passed, invisible murders at Oceania's hands.
He figured out how to move forward anyway.
It had been helped when Eurasia collapsed, and he and Ireland were no longer the lone survivors of Europe.
And when those who had been trapped by Eurasia, even the ones who formed that beast, were freed.
It had been…wonderful, to know that they were freed.
It had been even better to see—well, not see—speak to them again.
"Your cane is very dashing," Britain heard France say, laughing as he turned in the direction of her voice.
"I am glad that it is easier to walk now," Britain said with a smile. France took his head.
"You could walk last time we had a party like this," France said, her face coming close to his, and Britain could practically feel her smile.
"Not as well. I was a pretty terrible dancer," Britain said. France laughed.
"Of course," Britain said, smiling as she guided him around people, his cane tapping the ground as they walked.
"How is Ireland's independence going?" France asked. Britain smiled widely, subconscious reaching for the bond he shared with the other man.
"Good, good. Now that our governments have been established, it's become a lot easier. Especially with the role he played in my freedom and the liberation of our nations, it's been hard for anyone to find a good reason to keep us united," Britain said, glad this was something they both got to see come into fruition.
"I'm glad there's no hard feelings anymore," France said. Britain squeezed her hands tighter.
"We have bigger enemies. Past rivalries…they're not important anymore," Britain said, hoping the note of sincerity in his voice said more than he ever could.
"You tell me," Britain said. France laughed, something breathless that made Britain's heart flutter, as they slowly danced together, foreheads pressed close.
It was a moment he had been dreaming of for a long time.
He was so glad that everything was over.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
"It's been a long time coming," Nova Scotia said, bumping her shoulder against Ireland, "How does it feel?"
"Great…and also like…I wish it weren't this that got all of my island independent. Feels…like I am cheating, almost," Ireland said, knowing that that wasn't true, but…even with all of his issues with his son, he had never wanted things to go this way. He had wanted…he had wanted reconciliation.
Oceania had firmly prevented that.
"You didn't ask for Oceania," Nova Scotia said. Ireland laughed.
"If any of us did, I would be concerned about their mental state," he laughed, before glancing over at Britain. He had Scotland's smile, the same lopsided thing that Ireland missed, so different from the reserved and even smile that used to be Britain's. "Still…"
He didn't say it, but Nova Scotia seemed to understand anyway.
"He has Dad's smile now. And they're gone, and you wish things had been better for you and North," she said, her own eyes drifting towards Britain, who was laughing as he and France attempted to dance. They were both pretty awful, but they looked so happy; everyone was letting them have their moment.
"Oceania took a lot from me. I can't…I can't bring him back, but I can ensure that I look after his people and that he is remembered. They burned so much about my independence, about him, to promote their idea of a unified Airstrip One. I won't let him be erased anymore," Ireland said, his voice a little more teary than he meant for it to be. Nova Scotia nodded.
"Good. If you do that, I am sure others will follow," Nova Scotia said. Ireland blinked, turning to her.
"What does that mean?" he asked. Nova Scotia laughed, gesturing towards the party.
"Don't you see? You indirectly started this when you decided to fight instead of hiding, when you freed America and Britain. Your stupid, rebellious spirit saved us all in the end. We had hidden, we had managed to hide out of hid reach, but you got us to fight. And once we started to rip apart Oceania, the others fell as well. You're a bigger hero than you realize," Nova Scotia said. Ireland looked out at the party.
There was America, laughing with his states, the physical scars of his torture gone as if they had never existed, his body language and face anything but a weapon.
There was Britain, walking and happy, and using a thousand subconscious gestures that Ireland recognized from the countries making him up.
And there was him, about to be independent again, free and full of life, living and not surviving, and oh so very happy.
"Huh. I guess I did do that."
"We all love you, you know that?" Nova Scotia said. Ireland smiled.
"Yeah. I do. Thank you."
For the first time in a long time, things really did seem like they would be alright.
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Forest Finns did not fear death. It had been chasing him for a long time now, and he had lived a good, long life and was ready to embrace it like the old friend that it was.
He would miss his family, Kvens and Tornedalians, but there was family waiting for him in Heaven, especially…especially his son.
Forest Finns had not thought about his son in a very long time. It hurt too much most days to remember what he had lost, to remember the bright little boy that he had been given the chance to raise, and then was taken from.
Some days, Forest Finns regretted not taking New Sweden with him when he had to leave. At least then he would have known that Kaarlo didn't die alone.
It was one of his biggest regrets. Leaving the child so neglected by Swedish Empire to die alone.
So maybe death was the end of his life, the end of his people and his culture and his name. Maybe it shouldn't be something he feels anything positive about.
But he could be reunited with his son. It did not have to mean an end. Forest Finns chose to see it as a beginning.
Dying was not what he thought it would be, nor was Heaven.
Though Forest Finns quite like that it looked like home. Maybe…maybe when he found his son, they could be here, in this place that looked like his land, and Forest Finns could finally show his boy the place Forest Finns had always told him about, the place that New Sweden had always wanted to visit.
Forest Finns exhaled, looking around. He was alone, and something about that made his skin prickle.
He was normally alone, but life was not death, and this…this was weird.
He hoped he would figure this out soon. He wanted to be able to see the others that he missed.
Forest Finns met some other members of his family before he met his son again, learning how to travel between the different lands, learning how this afterlife worked.
It…it was harder, trying to travel to see New Sweden, as if something in the afterlife was not right, as if something about this was different.
But it happened.
Eventually, Forest Finns was able to walk into the part of the afterlife his son was in, taking in the familiar sights of the colony he had once called home, before finding the colony he called family.
"Kaarlo?" Forest Finns said, hesitant and uncertain. There was something in his gut, maybe guilt, that made this moment seem harder than it should be.
His son turned to face him, smiling widely, familiar in a way that made his heart.
"Hi, Isä," New Sweden said, and he looked happy, and not made, and New Sweden waved him over, and Forest Finns smiled, faint and barely there, but there all the same, and began to walk over.
Then New Sweden did something that sent a bolt of terror down Forest Finns' spine.
His entire body flickered, like he was on the verge of vanishing.
But New Sweden didn't flinch, didn't act like it was wrong, so Forest Finns bit his tongue, deciding to ask about it later.
"You seem…different from the others I have seen here," Forest Finns commented. His son laughed, his form flickering before he resolidified.
"That's because I am. I'm not really here, not like most of the other people are. I'm just a fragment, a memory," New Sweden said. Forest Finns frowned, something sinking in his stomach at that. He didn't like the way that this sounded. He…he thought that upon his death, he would see his son, but something about this was different.
"But if everyone is built from my memories, why did everyone else I've seen seem more real—" Forest Finns began to ask, before his son—still young and tiny in death as he was in life—interrupted him.
"That's because they are. I'm the only one that isn't." New Sweden said, flickering again.
"What does that mean?" Forest Finns asked, concern growing.
"The soul of your son still lives. I am only here because…death of self, one can say. I am what he forgot, the parts of his being left behind when he came back from that death," New Sweden said, before frowning softly at Forest Finns. "I'm sorry. I wish I could be who you were looking for."
"I—" Forest Finns began, before cutting himself off, "Is there a way that you can be? A way to not be unstable."
He didn't know what he was asking. He was off balance in a way that he hadn't been in a long time.
New Sweden looked away, and for once, the flickering seemed to calm, just a little.
"I have been trying to reunite with him. That is why I am so unstable. I have given him many of the pieces he has left behind, but until we are fully one again, I will be trapped here. I don't know if there is hope of us being fully reunited until he has permanently died, and who knows when that'll be," New Sweden said, his eyes growing distant and, for a terrifying moment, vanishing for a few seconds longer.
"I…but you died," Forest Finns said, not sure what else to say, how to process this. He knew they were different from human souls, in the way that death did not stick as well, but…he thought if anything was the same, it was their afterlife.
He had wanted to be reunited with his son. He had wanted to be reunited with the family that he had lost, so he didn't ruminate as much for the family that was left behind. That was what he wanted.
Not…not whatever this was.
"Not fully. Not quite yet. Not in the way that you did. I can still talk to you, if you want," New Sweden said, but there was something about him that seemed…less and less solid the more that Forest Finns looked at him, as if he were looking at a shadow and not his son.
"I have to go." Forest Finns said, standing up to leave. He needed time to think.
"I'll see you someday, Isä," New Sweden said.
It was the same thing that New Sweden had told him before Forest Finns left him. Somehow, that made everything feel worse.
Delaware’s Recollection of New Sweden (Wattpad | Ao3)
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Excerpt of an explanation about countryhuman replacements by countryhuman researcher Ailbhe O'Brien.
An interesting facet of countryhuman revival is the small cases in which they cannot. This typically comes after one countryhuman is killed by another, preventing the ability for a countryhuman to revive itself. After this occurs, a new countryhuman is born to ensure that the land is without one. These countryhumans are called "replacements" and are exactly the same as normal countryhumans, though they have historically not been treated this way, and have been subjected to large-scale campaigns of harassment, especially from enemies.
This harassment has extended so far that several replacements, such as Sweden and Japan, hid the fact that they were replacements and used wars and other political events to try to hide what had happened so they could appear as "normal" countryhumans.
The one marker of a "replacement" countryhuman is their memory, as they appear to share memories with the prior countryhuman. As it was not a normal transition, many countryhumans believe that the soul is reused to create the replacement, or that the violence predating their birth imprints itself onto the "replacement" countryhuman.
However, some "replacement" countryhumans, such as the US State of Delaware and Wales, believe themselves to be the same countryhuman as the one that was killed. In the case of Wales, he describes it as "my body was reset…and I lost memories for a while. I was still Gwynedd. I just didn't remember that yet."
Recording of an Interview with Delaware, 11 May 2023, Interviewed and Transcribed by Robert Wilson.
[recording starts]
Wilson: May 11, 2023. Interview with the state of Delaware about what he remembers from the deceased colony of New Sweden. Thank you for being willing to speak with us about this. I know that things for uh…
Delaware: You can just call us replacements. Everyone does. It might have been created to be rude, but it's what I've known myself as for a long time. It doesn't bother me.
Wilson: Right, well, I know things for replacements can be a bit weird.
DEL: They definitely are. My experiences with New Sweden and my relationship with that time of my life are unique to me and me alone. It's not the same for New York or Sweden or anyone else. After all, I consider myself New Sweden, and therefore Sweden's sister, because she does not consider herself our father.
Wilson: That sounds complicated. I hadn't considered that both of you were replacements before.
DEL [laughs]: It can be, but it's also something that brings us closer. We both…understand what it is like to have these memories that you are trying to figure out whether they are yours or not. It's nice, even though it may seem complicated.
Wilson: Well, that is good. Now, you consider yourself New Sweden. Did you always see yourself that way?
DEL: As Delaware? I mean, I went through a lot of names around that time, and I was weak and sick and didn't have a set identity for a while. Once I started remembering, being New Sweden made the most sense. It was a country name that was solid, until the list of names I had gone through before I became the Lower Counties on the Delaware. So adopting it until I had a better handle on who I was supposed to be now just made sense.
Wilson: Do you think that is why you are one of the few replacements that consider themselves to be the same as the one who came before?
DEL: Well, maybe, but I think gender also plays a role. Not to keep bringing him up, but he's my best comparison, but New York is the replacement of New Netherland, and she was a woman. So for him, even though he has her memories, it's a lot harder to see himself in them. But I'm a guy, and my appearance never changed from when I was New Sweden, so there is a continuity there that just makes it…easy, I guess, to say I am still the same. And…I feel the same. I don't feel like I am a different person. I feel like I just forgot a lot about who I was, and I am still trying to remember everything.
Wilson: I see. Do you think you were affected by people talking about Delaware and New Sweden as if they were separate?
DEL: Maybe? I am not sure. I always corrected people, but when things restarted as Delaware, my body was weaker, and I didn't speak much English, mainly Dutch, Swedish, Finnish, and some Lenape. Their concern was helping me learn English, so that was where the priority lay. And by the time I could communicate properly that I was New Sweden, and remembered enough to know that for sure.
Wilson: What is it like? Remembering something from New Sweden?
DEL: Well, just after the transition happened, when I was younger, I would have vivid dreams all the time of his memories, and I would wake up not remembering that I was Delaware now, and it would take me a few minutes to remember that…that that time is gone now. It still happens from time to time now, but less than it did because I have less that I need to remember. After that, it turned into remembering things more when something triggered a memory, like someone saying something or a sight. That's how most of it is now. Since I've remembered most things, everything else needs to be shaken loose by a reminder.
Wilson: Are most of your memories that vivid?
DEL: Like I said, not anymore, though the vividness of it and fully believing that I was still New Sweden, that I hadn't passed into Dutch or British hands, was probably what helped really confirm who I was for me.
Wilson: What do you think about people who say that you cannot be New Sweden, or try to convince you that you are truly separate people?
DEL: They can say whatever they want. They aren't me. They can't tell me who I am or what I remember. Because [voice turns soft and wistful] I remember my isä, the Forest Finns. I remember that he was the only parent to raise me, because Swedish Empire was busy at war and Lenni Lenape was her own nation, a separate one. I remember reading with him. I remember him singing. I remember all the thousand soft little moments that exist only with me now, because he's gone. If I never met him as Delaware, then why do I remember his voice and all the little things you'd only know if you truly met him?
Wilson: I am sorry for your loss.
DEL: It's okay. But…I am not going to let that define who I am. I know who I am, and that's New Sweden as well as Delaware. There's not much more to say about that.
Wilson: Well, does that mean that you are done with the interview?
DEL: If you have more questions, I can answer them.
Wilson: Well, I got asked if I could ask you if you remembered the transition, but I don't think that one is appropriate.
DEL [laughs]: Not particularly, though I don't remember anything about that.
Wilson: Well then, I think that is done. Thank you for speaking with us.
