the united states of america, except i make her cunty

england yoinks america

It was 1632 when England went to retrieve the colony he bought from the Dutch Republic, the girl that would one day be the United States of America. He was weary and hardened from centuries of existence since the fall of the Roman Empire, yet the little waif in front of him, formerly known as New Amsterdam, was merely three decades old, appearing no older than a human girl would at six years of age. Her fiery red hair was done in twin braids and her emerald-green eyes mirrored England's own. New York stood there, trembling and seeking refuge behind the Dutch Republic, fearing what lay ahead.

Breaking the tense silence, England addressed the Dutch Republic in a cool, detached tone. "I presume this is New York?"

England's words were laced with authority, but his attention was solely fixed on the young colony before him. She resembled someone he thought he had lost forever—Britannia. The mother of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland (and the others of the British Isles, before they were consumed).

The Dutch Republic clenched his fist, his jaw tightening with visible discontent at England calling the little colony New York instead of New Amsterdam. England couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement. Ah, so the Netherlands did possess some attachment to the colony. How fortunate, he thought giddily.

Reluctantly, the Dutch Republic replied, his glare piercing through England. "This is New...York. She will prove to be a great economic boon for you."

A momentary flinch passed over New York, her eyes glistening with crystalline tears. England held no sympathy for the little colony. She must have known no other home but the Netherlands' embrace, but now she was England's, and he would do what was right for the young personification to thrive in his empire. England's heart is calloused, he knows and admits, indifferent to the suffering of others lest it is a burden to him. Despite Ancient Rome's cruelty which had tainted him deeply, the sight of this colony, reminiscent of his mother, Britannia, stirred something within him.

In a hushed voice, barely audible, New York whispered, "Hello, Master England."

England bent down, caught in the heat of the moment, his desire to assert his dominance over the Dutch Republic consuming him. "Hello, New York. I am England and I shall be your guardian from this day forward." The next words came tumbling out. "You will reside in the Old World with me, in my capital, London."

Surprised, New York looked up at England, while the Netherlands appeared even more bewildered. No precedent existed for colonies living with their colonizers. England knew that France had departed from his New France colonies, and Spain had left the care of the colonies of New Spain to nannies in the New World. Yet, during the era of the Roman Empire, his conquered territories often found themselves residing with him in his household. So what difference did it make if England took New York to live with him? England is his father's son after all. England would have New York, and she would be by his side. At that moment, England couldn't fully comprehend why he made the decision, other than to inflict cruelty upon the Netherlands. Decades later he would understand that his precious Thirteen Colonies had already gripped his heart firmly within her small hands, their existences singing in praise with each other.

The Dutch Republic hissed furiously, "You would take New Amsterdam from her homeland?"

New York shrank at the Dutch Republic's anger, her fragile form appearing even smaller next to the two powerful empires. The Dutch Republic faltered upon seeing her fearful expression, unable to utter words of regret or provide assurances of safety.

"New York will live with me," England repeated coldly, his voice resolute. "She is my colony now, and as such, I shall do with her as I see fit." England gazed down at New York, her head tilted upward to meet his gaze. She radiated fear, but England vowed to rectify that. Colonies should of course respect their colonizers greatly, but fear was unnecessary. "We will depart at first light. Gather your belongings and bid your farewells."