Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia: Axis Powers!
Story: They all thought it was France who influenced America away from England. That only Prussia influenced America's military. That only England's culture was completely entwined with America. But there was someone else pulling the strings, and Rome was waiting to rise again.
Set somewhere somewhere somewhere (shrugs).
Spoilers: Yesssss….Noooo…I don't know?
Warnings: Violence, language, sexual situations, etc.
Pairings: Main RomexFem!America, side-WorldxFem!America, side-UKxUS, CanadaxBelarus, AustriaxHungary, etc…
A/n: I blame Jona Selle's cover of "Say Something" for this chapter. Listen to it while reading.

Aeternus Amor Meus
Chapter Six: American Revolution: The Con of Lex

Canada didn't want to pick sides. England was like a father to him and had picked him up and sheltered him. But America was his sister and who loved and saw him and didn't see through him like others did.

But this was heartbreaking and he didn't want his family torn apart.

If only that stupid drunk smuggler Adams had kept out of things. If only all these restraining taxes had never come into being. If only England hadn't been so determined to win a war against France and landed in so much debt.

But after so much anger and riots in the streets, emanating mostly in Boston, the five colonists that were killed there, and then finally the dumping of tea into the Boston Harbor…He didn't think things would ever go back to normal. Or be the same.

There were far too many British soldiers marching along the Boston streets, and it was suffocating America. If her people felt suffocated, she felt suffocated. America and England themselves weren't fighting anymore. However, there was a tension there that Canada couldn't miss. They were civil, but America's tone was cold and England's strained.

And all the while, there were these things going on on America's land, and he felt an ominous presence haunting the house and hanging onto America like some kind of cloak of darkness.

"Don't look so lost in your thoughts, Canada," he heard America's voice say, and he turned from his window to face America at his door, giving him a small tired smile.

"I'm surprised you didn't attend that meeting with all those other rebels," Canada lightly teased.

"I didn't feel like it," America murmured, looking down and closing her eyes.

Then again, America hadn't snuck outside for a long time. Or even taken a step foot out of the house, despite the fact that England hadn't really restricted her from going out. But somehow, the house had still managed to become like a silent cage, in which all three of them couldn't escape from.

"He's trying, you know," Canada whispered.

Silence reigned for a few moments.

"I know," she said, pained.

England had been trying so hard that even his own government was split in the middle, with one calling themselves the Tories and wanted to snuff out this rebellious American spirit, and the other calling themselves the Whigs who'd hoped to be more lenient. England himself sided with the Whigs, but even that couldn't resolve the two sides and left even more problems between America and England.

Suddenly, he felt a hand land heavily on his neck and he looked up to see America. She gave him a dejected smile and brushed his blond hair back.

"The beat of war is coming," she said softly. "It won't stop."

Canada knew that. He did, really. But he hated it and he just wanted things to go back to normal, and they could all be happy together.

Soft lips pressed against his forehead and he looked at America in desperation.

"You don't have to choose, Canada. You don't ever have to choose," one tear, and then another slid down his face. "I'll do whatever I can to keep you out of this as much as possible."

Maybe it was cowardly, but he just wanted his family together.

Rome hadn't wanted it to be like this, if only because it was causing America so much pain. Maybe he was heartless. Maybe he was so used to tearing apart families, throwing war around and being uncaring about the consequences that his wars and his ambition pushed onto those he'd conquered.

But he couldn't find it in him to care for Canada's pain, or to let America wallow too much in Canada and England's grief. If she wanted to become the warrior queen she had told him she wanted to be like in his stories, if she wanted this independence, she needed to cast them aside and step forward on her own and make her own claim in their world.

She couldn't afford to have so much heart and so much empathy for those who should be considered the enemy.

And seeing this now, in hindsight, Rome thought that he shouldn't have let her get so attached and care for Canada so much. He, as much as England, were weaknesses and attachments that America couldn't afford to have in her rise to power.

She was a woman reborn and she only needed him by her side.

It would also relieve him to be the only man in her life again, and to be the only one she depended on. Too long had her relationship with England, and even Canada, made him uneasy. It wouldn't be too long now until his words, his presence –Rome –would be all that America looked to once more.

"Am I doing the right thing?" America asked him anxiously.

He gave her a reassuring smile. "You are America. Your people come first."

"And what about those of my land who still are loyal to England and want to stay as part of him?" she asked softly, staring dejectedly at the floor.

Rome frowned, feeling uneasy. He couldn't let America have doubts and second thoughts, nor did he feel comfortable that her own attachment to England was showing –right now and through her own people.

"Then they're not your people," Rome said firmly. "They're England's, and that makes them British."

America still looked doubtful, but it would fade away. Rome was sure of it. Things were going too far now to go back, and no matter what happened, nothing would remain the same.

"It's too late now, America," Rome murmured, crossing over to her and laying a hand on her shoulder. "You mustn't get cold feet. You've crossed a line you can't go back from. You can only go forward from here."

America sighed and nodded, but her heart wasn't fully in it. So Rome knelt in front of her and gently grasped her face, making her look into his eyes.

"I know you…care for England," Rome had to force himself not to spit that out. "And in time, he'll understand. But right now, you have to let him go."

Seeing that he had her full attention concentrated on him now, Rome gave her a grim smile.

"You must fight for your right to be America."

America would be great.

And he would not let anyone –not Canada, not England, and not even herself –stop her from becoming so.

England tried to read his book, but his thoughts wandered up to the blonde that had holed herself up in her room. For a while now, they had been at odds and even more recently, distancing themselves to the point where they hadn't spoken in days.

This isn't how he wanted things to be. He didn't want them fighting with each other, not even if it was just their people. But he knew how it was, how Nations were built. And despite what he'd said that night, America was definitely a Nation as much as he was. He'd had no right to say such a thing to her.

But now there was this divide between them, and he didn't know how to bridge it.

There were too many things involved now that it was inevitable they would go to war with each other, just as they'd been in their own house. Nations did not always solely reflect the opinion of their people or government, but their people's feelings and emotions at least influenced how a Nation acted and spoke sometimes. And likewise, a Nation's own feelings and thoughts tended to be different from their people, but when they were feeling strongly, they could end up influencing their people as well.

And this coming war was a complicated mess, a mixture of England and America's own personal problems with each other, and of their people's conflicted feelings. And he didn't know how to make it right again.

He'd only wanted to do his best by her, to protect and take care of her…

Why did it have to be this way?

"I'd only wanted to be your protector," England murmured to himself. He closed his eyes and resisted the urge to start crying. He'd cried so much as a child, but back then he'd had to learn it wasn't becoming of a Nation, a male Nation at that, to cry at all, none of the least the amount England had then.

Rome had always told him to "stop that pitiful whining."

Memories of that man flitted through his head and he scowled. He was such a war monger, and if he were here, he would be encouraging this war and trying to accelerate it. England was only glad that Nation was long gone, and that he couldn't be here to influence America. His years with that man had been hell, and he was grateful that America didn't have to experience that. That he had been able to give her a better life, a better childhood, than the one he'd suffered under Rome's hands. That Rome wasn't there to corrupt and seduce her, and lay waste to her as the Empiric Nation ruthlessly did all else he'd conquered. Like Ancient Greece, Ancient Egypt, his mother…

No, he'd done his best to give America everything. But even if he hadn't caged and conquered her like Rome had to him, his mother, and all the other Nations of before…perhaps he was no better. He'd kept her in a gilded cage, refused to let her have an ounce of freedom. He stifled her and her spirit, demanding so many changes to her wild heart. He laid so many restrictions in the fear of losing her, and now she was running away from him.

He'd been so overprotective, so tight-gripped on her because he wanted her safe and loved…but also because he knew he selfishly wanted to keep her all to himself. Though the restrictions and taxations of her people were a large part of this mess, his hold on her had become too much and this was much more personal and intimate than the troubles of their people.

He was suffocating her, and had been for so long. Too long.

England glanced at the missive that had been sitting innocently by his side. It wouldn't take too much time until Lieutenant General Thomas Gage would be on the outskirts of Lexington and finally Concord. America's people had created a militia with the intent to rebel against the British troops stationed in Boston, and England could only hope the hostilities were quickly stopped so that he could focus and get to work on repairing his relationship with America.

He glanced upwards, and wondered if he should go to her. Warn her maybe…stay by her side for when the time of the battle comes. Brace themselves, and he could teach her how to endure a Nation's struggle through the wars they have to go through…

He stood from his chair and hesitantly went to the stairs, glancing up them and wondering if she would be upset if he came to her now. Then he was forcing determination into his step as he walked up the stairs, knowing he had to face her sooner or later. And it was better now, before the battles would start and there would be no time to talk.

But as he stood in front of her closed door, he stopped and hesitated again. His hand reached up and gently touched the wood of the door.

Then it went to the cold doorknob, turning it and then pushing the door open. He stared in shock and growing numbness at the empty bedroom.

England fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands, finally giving into the urge to cry.

"Ohoho! You've lost, mon ami," blond and grinning charmingly, France was delighted at having won the game against his old friend Prussia.

Prussia sneered mockingly. "Ja, you won. But I'll win the next round!"

"Don't be a sore loser, Prussia," the last of the trio snickered. Spain tossed some coins into the pile as the cards were shuffled and then doled out. "If you win, you win. And if you lose? You lose."

"What kind of attitude is that, Spain? No wonder your armada lost against England's," Prussia jeered.

Spain's laid-back attitude changed slightly as the Spaniard glared lightly at the Germanic Nation.

"Have you heard of the overseas troubles?" France skillfully changed subject without blinking, looking over his cards with a practiced eye. He reached over for his wine glass without even sparing it a look, taking several sips after.

"What with England and his colony?" Prussia shrugged. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Nothing really," France hmmed, hiding his actual interest in the subject. "I've just been curious about it all lately. It seems almost like yesterday, when we all traveled to the Americas and tried to lay claim on the land, and I saw that cute, little cherub. I tried so hard to make her my little sister," he sighed dramatically.

Prussia snorted, and even Spain had to hold back his laugh.

"Who'd want you for a brother, you pervert?" Prussia laughed at him.

Rolling his eyes delicately, France waved him off. "As I was saying, I probably would have made a better guardian for her. At least I would not have driven her to rebel against me, as England seemed to have done."

"I wonder what that idiot's done," Spain remarked, a tone of acid subtly lacing his comment.

"Who knows?" Prussia grinned. "Maybe she got tired of his cooking."

All three of them laughed at that.

But France was thinking. "She's got guts at least," he set down his wine and looked at the others, giving them a playful smile that said more than it should. "I support her cause wholeheartedly as well."

The other two looked at him uneasily.

"Hey, you're just saying that, right?" Spain prodded him. "I agree. I support her cause and cheer her on, though I don't think she has a chance against England. But you won't…do something stupid. Like go to war with England again."

Prussia nodded solemnly, agreeing with the brunet.

France gave them an irritated look. "That Englishman humiliated me and my country. And after Joan…I'll never forgive him. And truly! America is in the right and I believe in her cause. If she wants to be free of England, then let her be free! My countrymen and I all agree and support such a noble cause. And to fight back with only what she has and is…it's very admirable. My country and I may not be ready yet to go back into war…but we want revenge and admire America. There are other ways to provide her with support…and given time, perhaps we will go to war with England again."

Prussia grunted, folding his cards and then laying serious eyes on France.

"You prove to me she's got a chance…I'm in this with you and her."

France grinned widely, and then the two of them looked to Spain. Though a bit more reluctant, Spain nodded his agreement as well.

"Then it's settled," France said smugly. "That brute will lose this time. And ironically at the hands of his precious America!"

Perhaps it will be a long road, but this time he had a feeling that England would lose it all and soon his English empire will crumble.

America returned to the house, not remembering how long it had been. But she was tired, sore, and it hurt everywhere. She'd fought alongside her countrymen, all the while enduring the effects of what happened when her people fought.

It hurt. Really, really bad. She felt like she was about to keel over any moment, but she didn't want to show weakness. Not to her countrymen, who needed her to be strong and give them hope, not to anyone who would doubt her because of her gender, and not to England, who would think she needed to be coddled and protected.

But she definitely wouldn't show weakness in front of Rome, who expected her to be every much the warrior queen he touted her as.

She entered the quiet home, seeing Canada tiredly sitting in the kitchen and pushing his food around in depression. When he saw her, his entire look changed and brightened.

"America! You're here."

She gave him a small smile and he leaped to his feet, heading towards her and giving her a huge hug, not minding the filth she was covered in.

However, Canada was quick to pull away, pointing to the door that led to the living room.

"He's in there…He's not been…well, since you left."

While Rome discreetly rolled his eyes so that America missed it, she flinched and looked gravely at the door. She nodded without looking at Canada and began to head to the door.

"America, don't," Rome told her steadfastly.

She stopped and gave him a pleading look, already looking close to tears. Damn that Englishman. He'd been plagued with the brat when the blond was younger, and now he probably would always annoyingly be attached to America, and she to him. And Rome hadn't the heart to say no to America, when she looked like that.

Letting her go on, she slipped into the room, and Rome refused to be in there and see it play out.

England sniffed and wiped his eyes. Most days, he just spent in his living room, sitting in there dazed or crying, while ignoring the pains that traveled through his body as the battles of Lexington and then Concord began. He was used to it, having lived a long time and gone through many wars already.

But the pain in his heart wouldn't be as easily ignored.

When the door opened, he didn't bother to look at it, just sitting and continuing to cry silently. But when soft fingers touched his cheeks and lifted his face from staring at the floor, he was suddenly looking into the face of America.

"You…you came back," he wanted to rejoice, to jump up in joy and hold her to him.

She gave him a sad smile.

"I'm not staying long," and just like that, he felt shattered again. "I have to go back."

It was then he noticed her attire, and realized that she'd gone to the battle and fought with her people.

"Stay," he said suddenly. "Please. America, please stay," he then grabbed onto her arms and pulled her closer, laying his forehead against her chest and fighting back sobs.

"England," her voice broke at his name. "I need to do this. You need to let me go."

He shook his head slowly, before turning his head up to look at her.

"I can't," he admitted. "I can't let you go."

And he realized all along just why he couldn't.

"I," his voice cracked and he took a shaky breath. "I love you, America. I love you."

A myriad of emotions crossed her face, until it crumbled and she looked at him miserably. She leaned down and kissed him gently.

"I'm sorry, England, but you have to let me go. Please do this for me."

For a moment, he held onto her tighter. And then his hands slowly loosened their hold and she was stepping away from him.

"Don't leave me," he whispered, looking lost at the floor.

It'd gone too silent and he feared she was already gone. But then her hand lay on his head, before it was gone and she had left as well.

He felt like an empire didn't matter, if America wasn't a part of it. A part of him.

No empire meant anything, if she was gone and out of his life.

Started 3/17/15 – Completed 3/20/15

A/n: Whoo, it's been a really long time hasn't it? I'm so sorry! I was having really bad trouble, because I was having so many ideas for the revolution since a lot happened, and I forgot that I was only going to more or less focus on the happenings around certain major battles. And as a reminder, this is Rome/America as the main big ship. The story centers around them. However, I also mentioned that the side ships with the World and England with America will be involved in this story (though more involved than I thought they would be).

Please leave a review if you enjoyed! And if you enjoy Pokémon, I have a collab account I'm working on with others, and the main books I'm writing are "The Book of Eve"/ "Kitty Claws" (and "The Book of Leaf" when it comes out). I would really appreciate if you guys checked that and the project out and leave some support! Come here: fanfictiondotnet (slash) u (slash) 6604088 (slash) TheRegionsLegends