America's eyes snapped open as she breathed in lungful of air, like she was dying from the lack of it. The gasping soon turned to coughing and she sat up in the bed, pounding on her chest to get back control of her lungs.

After that close death experience, America groaned and pushed her face back against the bed, one eyes staying open but unseeing. The nightmare ran through her head and she was so glad she managed to wake up before…. It happened.

It.

The thing that always left her tender and almost broken along with a scrambled brain and confused heart.

"Screw this," Amelia murmured, pushing herself up of the bed. Her bare feet touched the cold wooden floor with a loud groan. She looked down at herself and saw herself dressed in a modest white, sleep gown, and with her hand running through her hair, she also discovered along with being dressed to bed, she had taken a long scrub. A quick look at her spotless nails confirmed that much too.

Who the hell did this? Her lips sneered in revulsion with the possible names that might've touched her. Thinking of Francis' creepy smile, Prussia's suggestive eyebrows, and Spain's wondering grip, she stuck out her tongue, disgusted.

Gross.

With that in mind, Amelia padded over to the window, looked out, and saw night still had its grip on the earth. Stars were sprinkled overhead along with the glow of the moon. Amelia leaned on the windowpane to look out of it.

She nodded to herself. Ok, it was probably the same night they came back. No way could see she have slept through more than a couple of hours… No she could sleep for days if she could, she has before, but that was beside the point. She had to go downstairs and find out what was going on—

He was coming.

England was coming.

The last time he came, it was around a decade ago, and it only lasted for three days.

Her hand tightened into a fist, recalling her dream and actually peaking into memories she hadn't bothered to reach in years. What would she do when they saw each other? How will she react? What would be their first words…?

It was almost weird that he hadn't said anything to her. He was always a planner and whenever something concerned her, he either slapped it in her face or practically turned it invisible. This, his visit, was defiantly something he would've told her.

He would've wanted her ready and perfect, up to his expectations, to welcome him. Fucking snob….

Something clicked in her mind and she straightened up. Maybe he had told her….

Picking herself up from the window side, the colony looked around the room, eyes stopping on a lump thrown carelessly at her bedside; her pack. Quietly walking over to it, Amelia chewed on her lip, telling herself that they would come up if she made too much noise.

She pulled out everything she had within her bag and just as her hand touched a folded parchment, she smiled. Mary had delivered it the day she had decided to journey to the Natives. With all the rush (and frustration), America had just forgotten about it.

Amelia's mouth twisted but forced her hands to open it.

America,

She noted that he now just started off with America, not my love, America, or even dear, Amelia.

I understand your wish to show more individuality, it seems that is now a fashionable trend among young folk, but it is simply not fitting for a girl of your standings. I have told you this more than once and I say it would be better for all if you just come to expect this.

You are my colony and whatever foolish ideas that comes into your mind reflects on my teachings. I believe myself to have been extremely tolerant with you, but with your recent tantrums, it has become clear that I must join you and enforce the rules myself.

It is a deep disappointment to me, America. You have showed me that I overestimated you to a point where I thought you were learned enough to do well on your own. This, I only blame myself. In the absence of a parent, you have fallen into disturbing actions uncommon to a normal female. I thought you were smart but alas you are only a girl, so this is my fault.

Her breath caught in her chest and her hands almost crushed the paper into shreds. Most of this was just rewritten in different words from other letters. At least he even bothered to write them himself.

She wanted to scream and tear out her hair that he even dared call himself her damn parent. Everyone seemed to think that he was some sort of child caretaker just because she was under his title. She was more like a dog to a master than a sister or daughter.

He's been patient with her? So all the restrictions and humiliation of her people, all the blame and demeaning he put on her was him being gentle? The man was a joke.

And, he called her a child? A girl? There were girls her age, 17 human years, who already had married and made their own families. She was defiantly not a child.

She shut her eyes tight, the sound of her shallow breathing the only thing her ears could hear over the pounding of blood.

America slowly opened her eyes, letting them readjust to the lightening before reading on.

I will arrive the beginnings of August, if not sooner than that. I must continue to clean up the mess you have forced on me. Truly, America, you are the only one of my colonies I have to steer around like this. When you were first discovered, I had high hopes for you, and while you have kept resources on going, you have been an utter prat.

How much more will you act out like this, I wonder? I hope with my trip over, you'll stop all of this whining and act like the British Colony that you are. My pride in you may have dwindled some, but I still anticipate great things from you if you just let me help you through…whatever this is.

It is my job to turn you on the right path, but I cannot even do that when you fight me over the smallest of things. This confusion and disorder in you is behind all of the colonist troublemaking, I am sure. Just stop acting like this, America. I have known many who have fallen away to pitiful emotions and I'll be damned if I let you, a little girl, do this to herself, to me, all because she could not control herself.

Being brash can only get you a horrid reputation, and while you are yet a woman, as one of the fairer sex, you must know your place behind me. I have put you above the others of lower breeding despite their gender and yet, I haven't seen you thankful for this in the longest time.

You have seem to have forgotten your place, child. I intend to remind you where that it and expect you to stay there, quiet. I pray to God that you can keep that mouth from spilling out brutish remarks.

I have been keeping an eye on the surround ports, as you know, and listen to this well, America, if I catch the faintest whisper of that portentous stuck-up frog, or any of his allies, the consequences will fall on your people, and a punishment will be in order for those who have the audacity to go against their king.

As much as I have spoiled you, this is the last chance I will give you to make something of yourself. His Royal Majesty has made it clear to me that as you are an important to me, he demands, no, expects, me to train you in the ways a proper colony, a proper child, should behave.

Think before you start to shoot off writings on paper for me, it would do you well to actually think before you go off acting a fool.

Until then,

Great Britain

She finished reading.

And stared up at the opposite wall. Her blood churned in fury under her skin, but at the moment, America tried to pick herself up. If she let herself get all worked over about him, like all the other times before… Nothing would've changed and no one would've gotten helped.

She tossed the paper into the floor, and stood up, heading out the door. "I have to think," she intoned to herself. He was right about that at least. It wouldn't hurt to think about her actions before doing them.

But she just wasn't like that. She was lucky if she even paused to think about the outcomes to anything. Yet… if this whole affair was going to end up like she was starting to think it was… (war)… thinking a little could help herself, and in turn, help everyone.

She peered around the doorway, seeing if anyone had been posted outside her door. No one. Not even a lingering maid. There were voices coming from down the stairs and as she wondered to the top of the staircase, she saw the glow of candle lights emitting from the room right at the bottom of the steps.

Thinking back on it, America was sure that was the parlor. She strained her ears more and made out Prussia's crocking voice. With more intend placed inside of her head, America knew this was her chance to eavesdrop. No way would they talk to her as freely as they would to each other in private.

Padding down the wooden steps on the lightest she could make her feet, she finally made it to the end, with only a couple of times she thought her heart would burst.

This was kinda exciting.

When was the last time she felt like this?

Crouching down, she got as close to the doorway without leaning into the room. Thank God the doors were open.

Spain: "So then, she fucking breaks the tree behind me, and I'm in shock. I knew that when she was younger… Ok, I heard things, but I never imagined…"

Laughter from Prussia. "He was about to piss himself, I swear."

Spain: "Then why did you shut up after it happened, Prussia? I think that's the only time I've ever seen you with your moth closed."

Prussia: "Fu-"

France: "No fighting. I don't need this from the two people who are supposed to help me out. Hm!" There was the clinking of glasses and America imiaged that France was still going at the champagne hard.

Spain: "France, you know our kings wouldn't let us do shit about this. England is too strong… They don't want him to turn his eye to us. America has it lucky. She's an ocean away from that pendejo."

Prussia: "Spain is right on this, Frany. It'll take a lot to convince them and right now, they're just kicking back to see Brows beat another colony into submission. Though… I gotta give it to the brat. I haven't seen anyone stand up to him since the 7 Year War. And he didn't even take that too seriously."

Silence… then…

France: "America needs to prove herself to gain allies in this war-"

Prussia: "War? Can you even call it that? Sure she has a spark, but she's in love with the guy! How the actual fuck can she fight a war against him when she's spazzing out on what to do?!"

She froze. Thought stopped for a moment and she almost forgot to breathe. Prussia… Prussia wasn't wrong. No matter how much she wanted to leave him… could she actually do it with all of this baggage of feelings inside?

France: "She loves herself more…and her loves her people above all. That's why she'll fight, for her freedom, the freedom of her people. I know she'll fight."

More silence. Francis… He knew her better than he knew herself at times. He was right. For her people, she would hurt England, and herself. Gladly she would.

Spain: "France… I know you're not fighting for her. You've never been so chivalrous. You're fighting for yourself." Pause… Pause… "For that woman…" There was nothing, and even from outside the room, the tension was choking America. Woman?

Prussia: "Wasn't she all about God, France? Do you think she would like to see you getting your hairy ass kicked and your mind overrun by anger every damn time a little skirmish with England breaks out?! Fuckin hell, France. I know you loved-"

France: "Love. I love her. But I am not here to talk about Jeanne. I, however, can say that is a reason, but I do care for Amelia… for Madeline. England will never take them away from me as he did to her. I will burn his country before I allow that to happen."

Who the hell is he talking about? France had many women, had always slept around. The man could find a brothel in any town before finding a place to sleep and eat. She had never even heard the love come out of his mouth before.

Spain: "Those… are dangerous words, amigo."

France chuckled. "It becomes even more dangerous when you hear how utter shit my country is falling too."

Prussia: "I'm calling a maid to get him upstairs. I'm not mothering this shit."

America tensed, already seeing herself race up the stairs when Prussia seemed to start getting up. But Francis said something else that quieted both of their movements.

"I am a coward. They won't do anything until they're sure of a victory will take place… I can't even give her what little I can. I only have myself to give and compared to him, it's practically nothing. America doesn't need a single man with connections that can take her so far. She needs- she needs strength, soldiers, weapons, and power."

There was a soft sound of weeping, and even though she couldn't see him, America could imagine the tears sweeping into Francis' beard, red ringed around blue, a glass in hand, and a tremor in his body. I can't leave her to die. Not again! I couldn't do anything, not my people or myself, so I can't let him take her away this time!"

The next time Spain spoke, it was followed by the chair he was sitting in groaning slightly from getting up. "Jeanne… I think she would've been sad if she saw you like this Francis… They say not to love one of them for a reason, mi amigo.

My work here is done. I don't know if I can prove any support so don't expect anything."

Spain's voice crept closer to the doorway and that time, she actually did run up the stairs. America hid in the shadows at the top of the steps, driven to see how this ended.

"Same here. Since that asshole is coming here, I'm sure that he would lynch me if he saw I came within a foot of his flower. England's got problems with that one…" Prussia said with a disgust dripping from the words.

America distinguished Spain walk out the parlor. He stood out there for a moment. The spit in her mouth disappeared and she thought that he saw her. Her blood turned to ice when he turned his head in her direction.

Holy smothering—what would he do to her for eavesdropping? Despite his friendly face and exterior, there was something darker in his soul, something bloodthirsty and hungry to stay on top of the power chain. The way he tried his colonies scared her.

Instead, he said calmly, "What do you think?" America was a second from standing and telling him she just came out of her room.

"Still crying. When he drinks too much it always end up like this. He's such a dramatic pansy." Prussia crept from the room behind him, closing the door on her way out.

"Not that. I can't believe he's still in love with that woman. I think it might be guilt more than anything, though."

"Are you joking? Did you ever see them together? If she asked him to give her his arm, he would've asked if she wanted both. I can believe it. It's only been…what? Two centuries? Three? Eh, four? I don't know. Still fresh, I guess."

"We aren't supposed to love humans either way. Even if things had gone well, she would've been dead centuries ago. It was only a matter of time."

Prussia ran a gloveless hand through her long white locks. "I think we weren't supposed to love in the first place. Humans aren't the only ones that can hurt us, ya know." She looked straight ahead, and even in the darkness, America saw her figure engulfed in a sadness of sorts.

"Austria and Hungary…they're very happy together, aren't they?"

A delicate silence swept over the area and America internally recalled how that happened a lot that night.

"For some reason, that prissy little girl, that toffee-nosed aristocrat, likes that tomboy more than me." Prussia's voice had become defeated and tired all at once, and if she started to cry, America expected nothing stranger in the world to help ever again.

Love. Was there a force in this world that prevented them from loving? Something that spoiled and ruined the feeling?

"Let's go already, Tonio. This place is too new. It makes me all sentimental." She sniffed loudly and cackled. She was the first to stomp to the nearby entrance and open the door.

From her perch upstairs, America felt the chilly breeze of night air find its way up to her.

Prussia's boots walked out the door along with Spain's footsteps.

Amelia watched the stars from her bed, wondering what she would gain and lose after this. She wondered what things would be pinned out of her reach, like the colorful butterflies England once had in his office.

A/N: Ok, I basically wrote all of this yesterday. I can actually write full chapters pretty quick if i put my mind and soul into it. Its sad it doesn't happen often.

Anyways, since school is coming, like next week, this is my present to all of you who hate school! :D I hope this can make you guys smile.

AND all i can saw is that, England will not have a lover in this story, if this changes, I will warn beforehand. And for background info... As America represents the people who live within her, i'd like to think the majority of the population usually molds who into who she is. BUT because she was taken in by England, raised by his standards, and influenced by the European nations, she started to became the personification representation more suited to the colonists. The Natives still hold a place within her, she just doesn't sympathize with them, they are , after all, apart of her. It's just after centuries of separation... makes things awkward. You kno how it is.

COMPLETE HEADCANON FOR THIS