"This is treason."

"No, Mr. Krkland. What you are doing is treason."

England ignores the fact that this man is not using his proper title and laughs bitterly.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do."

"Then how, may I ask, can I commit treason?"

"Simply, Mr. Kirkland, by the fact that you refuse to become a privateer for the crown."

England glares furiously. He is being accused of treason because he will not kneel? So what if he doesn't take orders? He knows he benefits his land much more as a pirate than as a privateer. He says as much.

"I am afraid, Mr. Kirkland, that it is not your decision to make," Beckett says with a sneer, "You may be the embodiment of the Empire, but you must still be loyal to the Crown. It is a new age. You can either aid your empire as a privateer, or you can betray everything you have been working for for centuries and cease to be a nation. Those are your choices."

Fierce green eyes stare at the innocent-looking piece on parchment on the table. Signed or not, it is his death certificate.

"…give me two weeks."

He spends his time on the sea. The salt air relaxes him, and he can think better. Should he choose to split away from the Empire, he could spend his last days here. No more fighting with that frog-bastard, or Spain, or his brothers… he could die out with peace and dignity, in his own terms, instead of seeing his land conquered and his empire lost like Rome. It would be better like that.

But when he thinks of his empire, he thinks of his colonies, and when he thinks of his colonies, he thinks of America. America, who still cries whenever England has to leave, even if the boy is getting too old for such tantrums. America, who was all alone before England took him in. America, who will most certainly be invaded and parceled off by France and Spain if England leaves him unprotected. He cannot do that to his boy, even if it means another thousand years of wars and taking orders like some kind of dog. No, England will hold his head high and sign the contract with the grace and dignity befitting and empire such as himself. He will not stay on the sea and sulk, like a child hiding in his room because he has not gotten a new toy.

He retreats to the Captain's Quarters and sits at his desk, finds a quill and ink. With careful and determined movements, bordering on reluctance, he signs the paper and seals it. Then he tucks it away for safekeeping. If he puts it out of his mind, he will not be tempted to rip the blasted thing into thousands of pieces.

He takes a moment to compose himself, then goes out to address his crew. He informs them that if they wish to take their chances with the gallows, they will be anchoring at a nearby port town tomorrow where they can disembark and join another crew. They will, of course, be sent off with their share of treasure, plus a portion of his own. If they prefer their lives, he assures them that he can secure a place for them as privateers. Unsurprisingly, three quarters of the crew choose to join another crew. If they feared for their lives and not their freedom, they would not have become pirates.

After leaving most of his crew at port, England waits until the ship is several miles off shore before lowering the Jolly Roger. He folds it as respectfully as he would any other flag, and then burns it. When all the flames have died, he scatters the ashes on the waves and raises the Union Jack.

England's face discloses no emotion as he listens to the names called. He watches somberly as men he has fought with, relied on, drunk with, women he's taken to bed, traded with, and cabin boys he's snarled at to get him another bloody drink, walk up to the gallows. He tries desperately to will himself to see them as bodies without faces, but even the iron will of the Empire can not make him keep his eyes open as the platforms drop and the nooses tighten.

England drops to his knees in the mud. He gave away his ship, his freedom, his very soul for this ungrateful brat? For this little nothing of a colony who thinks he can betray England, say that England does not know, does not do what is best for America? He calls England selfish, greedy. Who is the one being selfish? After all England has done for America, after all he has sacrificed? He should have shot the bastard.

But England knows why his finger hesitated on the trigger: Ungrateful as he is, as much as he's hurt England, America is the reason the England is still alive, and England cannot repay that kindness by dragging the young nation down into the dirt so that the Empire may take another step up.

AN: This is what happens when I listen to the soundtrack for PoTC with Hetalia on the brain. I'm so mean to poor Iggy...