I do not own Hetalia its themes nor characters.

The Empire On Which The Sun Never Sets...

-1783-

"Britain"

Filled with an unknown longing, thrown into a trance, surged with fury, with frustration...with fear.

With each clap of thunder, he sensed the retribution, the upheaval against the injustice, as it was called.

With each flash across the sky he remembered. The words that graced the parchment, scribbled down illuminating his reasons. Those words; those cruel, heart wrenching words from that letter; that Declaration of Independence.

The haunting words for which he prayed were only a jest; the malicious prank of a child too young to know what he meant; too young to know what he wanted.

"When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal stations to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation..."

So many times he read those words, and each time unable to contain his emotions, even before the king.

Why?

Why had it been him?

Why not any of the others? Why did he care so much about him? This one specific colony across the ocean?

He had others, so many others...

But this one was different.

He adorned this one the most.

So why? Why had he not come and spoken to him about the unhappiness he felt?

Did he hate him? Detest him? Despise him so much that he could not even give a word to him about his feelings?

Did he want to spite him so badly that he would go and start a war? And send him such a wretched letter?

With each drop of water settling into the earth, he remembered the sunny days; filled with laughter and joy. Days of promises, of never ending bliss, days when he was happy.

Days spent with his beloved little brother.

"All I want is my freedom! I'm not a child anymore, nor am I you're little brother!" He shouted. The voice of his beloved opponent called from across the wet field. A voice that struck him, scared him, left him cold and barren, lifeless, as if his heart had been ripped from his body, and stopped by the plague. His voice tinged with anger and frustration; with hatred directed at straight him.

"From now on, I am Independent!"

No.

No.

He would not allow this. He would never allow this. He had to stop this; stop him from making a decision that he would regret. He knew nothing. Nothing about independence. Nothing about running a country. He knew nothing about the ways of world; this was going to end.

He was going to stop it.

With the intent to kill; the merciless, cold blooded, cruel way his empire was known for, he took action, charging at his colony, musket in hand, prepared to strike him down, stop him at all cost. He would not allow this to happen-he would not allow his colony to be independent. He would never let him go.

Although the colony tried to defend himself, tried to block him, tried to fight back, his own weapon was torn from his arms, tossed mercilessly into the air and thrown to the ground unable to avoid receiving a large , gaping scar across the bottom.

The colony, although not alone; found himself helpless against the great nation, staring down the barrel of the gun into the eyes of the man who raised him.

"You fool!" He panted. tightening his hold, grasping unto the weapon for dear life itself as his heart beat increased, rapidly beating, pushing the blood into his veins, giving him his only sign of living, his awareness of life.

"Why?" He began. He needed answers, demanded answers. " Why can't you follow anything through to the end!"

The colony did not answer. Only continued to stare, his men ready, and willing to shoot his mentor on sight.

However he did not move, the older nation was...hesitant.

'I cant...I can't, there's no way I can shoot him'

His arm began to grow weak; his stomach turned at the thought of killing him; not him. Not his precious little brother.

But...

What would the others think? What would his other colonies do? If they get wind of it; him letting this happen, letting this colony free...

Would they also rebel?

Would they also leave him?

Would they, as well, want their independence?

What about his goal-his goal of world domination?

Why has he allowed this to go on for so long? Why did he have to make such a choice?

His compassion? Or his pride?

And what of this colony? This tiny divided colony? Could it stand on its own?

Could he really be independent?

Lowering his musket; the nation stared down his colony. He couldn't...

He just couldn't do it...

He couldn't let him go. Not now. Not ever.

With a simple click, he shot a bullet-a single bullet into the chest of the man before him. In shock; the young man stared at his care giver, his vision fading to black, as white and blue stained red...

...

Thank you for reading.

I hope you enjoyed!

Please, if you have any suggestions, comments, or concerns do not hesitate to tell me!

Bye Bye For now!