Unification - Hetalia x Reader

Prologue - What Starts a War

Before a war starts, conditions must be met. Said conditions can simply stem between the dispute between two nations, or perhaps two groups in general. From the arguing, grows resentment, then discrimination, hatred, and eventually; violence. As history cliams, or the victors, war was merly the last resort in order to maintain preservation and the lifestyle of the winners. The wars evolved over time; from throwing rocks to grenades; firing boulders to rifles, it all progressed to a new barbaric. Wars waged for land, for resources; out of love...out of hate...War persisted as if it were a guarantee for each generation.

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War was not the first option. To lose thousands of lives, was not [y/n]'s first option. Learning from history, violence only grew more grotesque, more erratic, no rhyme or reason, simply chaotic for the sake of taking lives in the more gruesome way possible. Deep down, [y/n] was not built for fighting; they were not made to wage war- but they were not made to stand idle either. The country did not choose to suffer.

[c/n]  a small island nation off the side of central-america; though it was fair to say they were in the middle of the Atlantic; right above the equator. The weather was perfect; with only the occasional hurricane here and there. White sandy beaches were clean with crystal clear waters. The salt could be cleaned and harvested; while fishes and goods could be exported out. Rumor supposedly has it that theres an untapped market in oil, but a great amount of precaution must be taken to avoid an oil spill. A tropical paradise with an abundance of natural resources, and a favored place for tourism.... if not for modern, civil unrest.

History tends to repeat itself in the sense that you have been through war once before. In the 16th century there was an explorer who claimed to come from an off land; claiming you as part of some 'great unification kingdom', but for the people, it was an unwanted shift. This man, claiming to have conquered you did not count on resistance from the native population; but it soon led to opposing forces clashing. Although the war created advancements and furthered technology, the lasting scars have yet to heal. It has been centuries now, but the memories linger as a new chapter in the history book begins.

There was political turmoil in paradise- splitting the nation; yourself, in half. There was corruption, and resentment building among current political parties; many who argued over how you would be governed. Radical groups that formed spread disinformation, spread fear into the community as they sectioned apart of you out- breaking away from the central government. Much to the point where violence would break out in differing cities bordering the edges of your cut.

'[C/N] should be run by the people, for the people! No 'representative' talk, just majority vote!'

'Our country should just remain the same! We've been okay for centuries now, why change?!'

'Perhaps we could change slightly? Make it part Monarchy-Part Parliament?'

Your government, The monarchy. The queen. Your queen. The young woman to whom to bow to; and live for. She is the making of your previous boss, and the one before them, and so forth. You can remember her ancestor clearly; as bright as day. A warrior who when finding you, embraced you and called you her own. A smile that could warm the sandy beaches at night, with a fierce cool glare that could freeze fire where it burned. Many fond memories were made with her while you grew. Her latest majesty may not have the same fiery personality as the first queen, but in her eyes held the same compassion and determination to see you, [C/N], succeed.

"(c/n)....." It was early in the morning to which her latest majesty called you, and you responded.

Already, protesters stood outside the palace, crying for change, screaming for the queen to take up arms against the rebel political groups who demanded to establish parties, to take apart of you and 'break away'...despite wanting to run themselves as a monarchy in similar fashion; claiming false promises. Such distraught made your chest sink, as these were your people. Without them, who were you as a country?

"My queen..." You were attentive, and doing your part to keep it together, not wanting to show the pain such internal turmoil could cause you. Holding winces and tears back, you could sense something was off. "....you called?"

"My (c/n)....My dearest (y/n).... I'm sorry...." Her majesty's apperence was different then her norm. Much like her ancestor, her long locks usually held back in [c/n]-ian style. Her usual attire was composed of fine fabrics sewn together in a beautiful gown what would cause anyone to pause and admire the person wearing it. Now...In a uniform not too different than your own, she turned to you with her kind eyes gazed upon you, both filled with saddness. "I have failed you."

"M-My queen?" You stammered, a bit confused as she moved close, brushing hair away from your face. You saw the familiar gaze of unspoken desperation. The queen smoothed out your uniform; then moved to gently plant a kiss on your fore head.

"I know my actions and my governing have caused you pain, and it would break my ancestor's heart, if not the whole line of royalty to know of what has become. I know the people who wish to put themselves on the pedestal, who will wear the crown while calling it a mere hair clip to convince the population otherwise, wants to see you fall at any cost." She extended her hand, then pulled back. "They see you as an extension of myself and not as the nation as you are. They do not understand that you are innocent in this." You looked on confused as she spoke.

"My dearest (y/n)....The pain that you hide is plain to see. I know you too well." She smiled weakly as tears formed. "I am aware that the radical groups have hurt you, have hurt our people, and have made existence unbearable... I am sorry to have broken such a long promise...But I am declaring civil war." Promise?....You couldn't quite recall a promise, though you remembered your stomach sinking, as your queen did to the floor. Falling to her knees, she clasped her hands together, begging for forgiveness while her advisors watched painfully. The familiar pains that were felt centuries ago arise. From that point, it grew blurry as preparations were made.

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It had been months, since that moment. In the trench you sat, gritying your teeth. Internally you felt yourself torn to pieces; not only feeling the pain brought on by the harsh conditions your land had turned into, but the pain of your people crying out for peace and sanity.

'You royal-scum, come out here and die like real [c/n]-ians!'

'You anarchic bastards, you fools, you damned cowards! We're not afraid to die!'

You heard screams traded back and forth as an exchange of gunfire seemed to rage on. Holding your weapon of choice close, you clutched it tighter; though before you could progress any further- a grenade made it's way to your side. As a country, you did not easily die like your people- but it didn't stop you from getting hurt.

Feeling yourself be pushed back against the walls of the tremch, your hearing suddenly went shot as did your vision. It was blurry, and for a moment you blinked int oa memory. You saw your first queen; sword in her hand. She guided her men across the field, charging forward. In a moment she paused; then turned to you. You could see it clearly- her hand stretched to yours; and you took it. You smiled, squeezing it tight. Though, in blinking, you regained your sight; yet your hand was still in another's.

"Yo! What's up dude?! I'm here to frickin rescue you!"