DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers – Hidekaz Himaruya

B.C.E.

BEFORE COMMANDING EMPIRES

WARNING:This story is intended for a mature audience and contains scenes that some readers may find offensive. If you are underage or easily offended, I discourage you from continuing. However, if you are 16+ I bid you welcome and enjoy! Thank-you for your attention :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Please excuse the incredibly historically-inaccurate use of modern language (insofar as dialogue and description), as well as my taking liberties with some character relationships. All countries will be called by their present-day names rather than their historic names to avoid confusion.

For those of you who would prefer to read B.C.E. – Before Commanding Empires in Chinese, please visit the link on my Profile homepage.

Thank-you and best wishes to the lovely and talented translator, The eleventh moon :D

PROLOGUE

19th CENTURY

England sighed. He was too old to be raising young children and his head pounded with the certainty of that fact. He pinched the bridge of his freckled nose, brow creased, and held up a hand to silence them (they were so loud!). "I don't care who started it," he said, piqued. He glared down at the two nearly identical boys, both scowling, conveying his displeasure while simultaneously trying to maintain an authoritative presence. "You've disappointed us, America, Canada," he said sternly, wagging his finger ineffectually at them. The boys blinked up at him, unconvinced. England glanced at France for support.

"Oui, your behaviour has been undignified and unacceptable. Angleterre and I are ashamed," France said in a practiced tone, planting his hands on his hips. He pierced the boys with a pointed look, trying to intimidate them, but his blue eyes betrayed the lie. He was not ashamed of either of them and the boys knew it. They fed off it like the spoiled young colonies they were.

"You're going to march yourselves straight back in there and apologize," England ordered. "America, don't give me that look," he warned. America crossed his arms and lifted his chin, nose scrunched in (adorable) defiance; he wasn't much taller than the average six-year-old, but already his presence was dramatic and demanded attention. "Canada, now," England prompted, shifting his gaze. Canada stood rooted to the spot, cold and silent, and wearing an unnervingly emotionless expression on his pale face. Despite his characteristic passiveness, his temper was the worse when provoked. Damn stubborn kids! England raged in frustration. He clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms to remain calm. Whatever happened to walloping disobedient children?

"You're making Angleterre and I très unhappy," France tried, playing good-cop. "I know you don't always get along with the European children"—despite their charismatic attitudes, the North American brothers were rather antisocial (France blamed their geographic isolation and England's possessiveness)—"but that is no reason to start a fight with them. It makes us, your guardians, look bad," he said. However, the boys had never really appreciated the benefit of having a good reputation:

"I don't care!" America spat, stomping his foot. "They deserved it! They called us un-un—"

"Uncivilized," Canada finished quietly.

"And your retaliation was to start a fight like two barbarians settling an argument?" England frowned. "I sincerely hope you see the irony in that."

"I don't care!" America repeated earnestly. "I hate them! They're all so con-con—"

"Condescending," Canada inserted.

"—and they think they're better than us! It's stupid— they're stupid!" America shouted. Canada nodded.

England exchanged a glance with France, who sighed. "Fine. If you're not going to apologize and behave like civilized colonies, then you can go straight to bed."

"Wha—?" America gaped. Canada frowned in confusion. They had, of course, been expecting the complete surrender of their over-indulgent parents, assuming—like spoiled, self-obsessed children—that their guardians would not punish them because they loved them too much.

"If you're going to behave like brats, expecting to be coddled instead of punished, I'm afraid you're wrong," said England, matter-of-fact. "Now I'm going to ask you one last time: Will you apologize?"

France finished tucking the boys into bed—red-faced and scowling, threatening angry tears—and closed the nursery door behind him. "Do you really think they started it?" he asked England, who was lighting a cigarette.

The Englishman flipped his cigarette-lighter closed, inhaled deeply, then blew-out smoke. "Undoubtedly."

France frowned: "Why?"

England looked skeptically at him, an eyebrow cocked. "They're wild. They've never had rules imposed upon them before and they're resisting the change. I love them, you know I do, but when I decided to become their parent I became responsible for their well-being, to colonize and civilize them; to tame the wildness. They're young. I'm not at all surprised that they're resisting, it's natural. But they'll get used to living under someone else's rule soon enough. God knows we both did."

"Are you saying that you liked being ruled, Angleterre, being bullied by Rome? By your older brothers?"

"No, I didn't like it," England corrected. "But I endured it. In hindsight, it made me who I am today."

"An unpleasant, self-righteous, know-it-all dick?" France shrugged.

England narrowed his forest-green eyes at his rival in challenge. "I'm not saying that I don't have scars— just like you do, don't deny it. But I'll be damned if I subject America and Canada to the same torment we had to endure. It's not like your childhood was any better than mine, but I don't want that for the boys. They've been born into a very different time than we were and I'm glad for it. They've been born into an era of infinite possibilities and I'll cultivate that if I can for their benefit. I might not be the best father-figure, but I don't want them to suffer as we did."

"Non," France agreed solemnly. "Neither do I."