Dear readers,

We all know I own nothing. This is a comedy/drama piece and it is per request. Some information gotten from the Government websites and National Geographic. Hmm kay.

I own nothing, rated M.

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1687

Spain had managed to get past the British Empire's formidable naval fleet. The nation was a veritable demon in the waters. Which irked Spain to no end. Considering in his history that he had been to the land once before, of this North American Continent.

His ship was in need of heavy repairs. The Mast had been damaged badly, and would need a great deal of work, if it could be repaired at all. His men were exhausted and suffering from a lack of drinkable water. As well as food rations which had been heavily salted to preserve what they could for this long voyage. Most has spoiled, and there was little to be done about it.

A few sailors showed signs of the beginnings of scurvy. They were in need of fruit. If fruit was found on the barbaric and heathenish lands that England had cultivated. If he were exceedingly resourceful, he could keep the men alive a little longer. They limped along, so slowly, that the men scarcely dared to draw breath, less misfortune befall them.

Land was so close, but so very far away. Much could happen before they reached the pristine shores.

It was then, that Spain thought, that perhaps his prayers for some sort of blessing had been answered.

On the shore, there was a glimmer of gold. Spain blinked, not believing his eyes. Gold on the coast? What was England doing here? Was the land simply that rich? Could it be so?

If it was, then it would solve a great deal of his problems.

However, as they drew even closer, he spied that the gold was attached to what was obviously a figure on the beach. The hair was far too long to belong to a male. Dark colored cloth and bright white, were visible as well, though Spain wondered what to make of such a person.

Two more candle marks crept by with horrible slowness.

When at last the his vessel roughly jolted, signaling that it had reached land, Spain ordered them to drop the anchor. His weary men scrambled to do just that. Salt stung their eyes and lips. Cracked and peeling skin was visible on every sailor. Many would be lost to blood poisoning from their wounds. Some from battle, and others in keeping the ship from sinking into the watery depths of the ocean.

Spain had barely had time to disembark from his vessel, to order groups to secure water, food, and fire wood. His whole body over ached in a dull throbbing. That bastard Englan-

"England!" A pretty girl called out merrily, rushing toward the sailors that piled out of the ship, her eyes as bright as gems.

His features colored with disbelief.

Spain stared her down, moving forward, sensing that she was like him. Not human. He felt his lips tug into a smile. He would almost dare to say that she was even more fair than Belgium. Which was something that was nearly unheard of.

Her lips parted in a silent gasp, as her blue eyes widened. Her posture straightened and her steps stopped completely. The wind caught and played with her silken strands of hair. The glimmer of gold that Spain had seen from a distance.

The unknown female looked at him, her gaze narrowed slightly in distrust, and then to the markings on his flag.

"Spain..." she muttered in dismay.

"A pleasure," he said with a charming smile.

The young woman swallowed, not retreating from him, but glaring at him balefully. "You must leave at once. You are not welcome here."

"Oh?" He asked, his green eyes narrowing at her words as his smooth voice all but purred at her. "You think to order me? That is truly amusing. This is not your land."

Her spine stiffened, and she did not budge an inch. That was a tad impressive to Spain. Most knew to fear his wrath.

"This land belongs to the British Empire." The girl hissed lowly, fists clenching, as she raised her head nearly the perfect mimicry of England.

Ah... So this... lovely but defiant creature... was the bastard's colony? Truly? Spain stalked toward her then, circling her as she watched him warily.

"And, whom, precisely are you?"

"I am the United Colonies of the Americas, called Colonial America." She replied evenly, "I was sanctioned by King James I himself. "

Ah, yes, that upstart. Spain remembered him. He bowed to the beautiful Colony before him.

"I am the Kingdom of Spain." He stated with dramatic flair.

She looked unimpressed.

"I know."

"And you are lovely."

"Now see he-," She paused and her brows furrowed in confusion. His words registered, he could tell, by the way her gaze softened just a bit. "What did you say?"

Spain leaned in closer, taking her hand in his. He could feel the newness of her, the delicate power that thrived underneath her pale skin . "I said you are lovely," he repeated with a bit of masculine gruffness to his words as he kissed the back of her hand with flourish.

The effect was instantaneous. The Colony flushed a fetching and deep shade of red as she stared at him with wide eyes.

"I said," he replied in a tone laced with honey and velvet. Thickened by his growing desire to know more about England's little fetching colony. "That you are lovely."

He had not thought she could turn any redder. He was, much to his amusement, completely incorrect.

"I thank thee Sir, please leave post haste." The colony muttered with quiet dignity, but she could not quite meet his gaze.

Spain, nodded gently, willing to acquiesce so as not to scare her away. "After my repairs are completed, dearest one."

Blue eyes stared at him with clouded emotions. Among them, Spain could easily spot compassion, understanding, and curiosity.

Ah, curiosity, the folly of many a nation. He grinned at her charmingly, convinced that he would have to order his men to take their time on the repairs. For he had a colony to court away from the English bastard. She was far too lovely and promising, to be handed over to that... Pirate of the seas.

No. He would just have to have her for himself.

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He spent time wooing her, and sometimes Spain even sought her out amongst her own people. He was undeterred by the confused and worried glances leveled his way as he made his journey down Puritan streets. The Colonial America, she always stood her ground and watched him, usually wary. The way her blue eyes flashed when he tried to say anything negative about the British Empire was vastly amusing. This Colonial America, would turn her nose up and all but flounce away from him.

Several times, he would catch her by the wrist, placing a tender kiss on the sensitive bit of skin on the inner part. The young woman would always flush, sputter, and then yank her hand away. Nearly scandalized.

Twin spots of color on her pale cheeks. Paler than even Southern Italy. Spain found time to sit with his men, enjoying pilfered drinks from a few more... giving... British vessels. Well, the ones that were less defended at any rate. He smiled into his cups of strong drink. Laughing and telling stories well into the night.

His men had no luck with the Puritan women. They were not creatures of sensual flesh by any means. To defile any of them would mean marriage or death. Possibly at the hands of the Colony, for the way she watched Spain and his men.

Though, he could catch a glimpse of her, when the moon was out properly, with the strange stars that could not guide him. HIs men came up with stories to remember the stars by. Some amusing, others sad.

His green eyes could pick out the sheen of her blonde hair, and Spain found there was little for him to do, but watch her in open admiration. America tended the herbs used for medicinal purposes, and kept up with the watchmen, giving them rest when sickness spread. There were painfully few colonists, but there she stood.

Like a beacon in the darkness.

And Spain, as always, would slam down the last of his drink, just as she turned toward his ship. As if she could feel his eyes upon her. Then again, she might. He allowed his heated flesh to cool at night, thinking that she was just as attracted to him. That she wished for the comfort of his embrace in her cold and lonely bed.

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Watching had become too frustrating. Only a few weeks later, he was reduced to following the colony. And he did follow her, everywhere.

In the town, her blue eyes would peak from beneath the pale gold lashes and it would go directly to his heart. As well as less noble regions. It seemed to Spain, that she was leading him on a merry chase. Sparring with him verbally when he drew to close, and then dancing right out of his fingers.

His vessel was repaired, and he would be forced to leave soon. He could stay no longer, for word had reached the settlement of England's impending return. It was America who had come, bundled up like a thief in the night, to warn him.

There was something about the way she looked at him that night, that caused him to trail after her again. Though, in truth, he should have been leaving as quickly as possible. His boots snapped twigs on the ground, but America continued on, in the night, unbothered by Spain's perusal after her.

He stalked her to the meadow, feeling the burning passion that simmered beneath the untouched Colony. Spain swallowed heavily, as he noticed that America was aware that they were alone. She said not a word to him, as he drew closer still, like a hungry cat after its prey. His green eyes watched her intently.

She glanced down demurely once, then with aching slowness, Spain saw her pull at the strings that kept her stretched white cap. America gently brushed it off of her golden hair and into her hand. He could feel his body begin to shake with barely repressed desire as he understood the symbolic meaning behind her act.

America looked at him with guileless blue eyes, so limpid and beautiful that Spain feared he would fall into them forever. He was nearly hypnotized by the innocent way she looked at him. Asking for nothing, and yet... everything. Everything he wanted to give her. Passion, tenderness, gentle caresses, and the pleasure his lips promised so many times.

Though America had always shied away before.

She raised a steady hand toward her hair, and pulled gently. It allowed her golden locks to cascade down around her shoulders, making her seem like the secluded treasure she was.

"Do you intend to stand there until the morrow comes?" She questioned softly, blushing once more. Like a bride on her wedding night.

A low groan of relief and approval tore from Spain's throat as he moved forward to place his lips upon hers.

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"And then, well..." America trailed off with a smirk.

Hungary was nearly falling off the table. Her mouth was wide open in sheer amazement. She had heard tales of Spain, but she had never imagined anything like what America was describing. Or how he had slowly sought her out like a-

"Then what?" Northern Italy chirped happily.

Every other remaining nation turned toward him with varied looks of amusement and dismay. Hadn't Germany taken care of this? Oh well, a few people now owed Hungary money.

America stilled, blinking a few times as she slowly opened her mouth.

"Uh... then he... uh..."

"Told you he loved you," Southern Italy snapped out angrily, flushing to the roots of his hair, and looking as if he'd rather be eaten by a Puma then keep hearing her story.

America leapt on that excuse. Eyes going wide as she nodded frankly.

"Yeah! Yeah totally. Said he loved me and we lived... happily ever after."

Hungary gave her a side glance, and leaned close to ask discreetly.

"Did you just quote Disney?"

"It's Northern Italy," America whispered back in defense of her choice of phrasing. "What did you think I was going to say?"

"Oh!" Said red haired nation replied clearly ecstatic. "That is so wonderful America!"

Hungary smiled wickedly, knowing that she'd get the full details later. America glanced at the clock, noting the time with a slight frown.

"Yeah," the star spangled nation agreed. "If Spain lives."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that I have to go do some damage control." America sighed heavily as she got up from the table. "Excuse me."

"America!" Hungary said quickly. "We'll finish this later. I have you on speed dial!"

"But..." Northern Italy commented, clearly confused. "She said they lived 'Happily ever after'."

No one had the heart to correct him on why that statement couldn't be true. Hungary cleared her throat. America stopped at the door, and smiled brightly.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot. Germany truth or dare?"

"Dare," the stoic nation stated with narrowed eyes.

America laughed brightly. Sparing Hungary a conspirator's look.

"I dare you to explain BDSM to Northern Italy." She replied with a mock-salute.

She could hear Germany cursing her even outside the building.