the united states of america, except i make her cunty

england patting america like a car: this baby can hold so much trauma

Governess Cohen guides New York to sit down. They're in one of the many rooms in England's estate, adorned with luxurious oak furniture and expensive drapes. The table in front of the chair New York is sitting in is round and carved intricately.

Governess Cohen sits across from New York and informs her, "We won't be needing to read for a while. For now, we must work on your ability to understand the different sounds words can make, and what letter those sounds correspond to."

New York is silent, staring up at Governess Cohen with wide eyes. Like all of England's people, she's fair-skinned, with flowing brunette hair and baby-blue eyes. She is older than Charlotte, lines carved into her face, a testament to her age and experience. Her smile is warm and inviting, but New York doesn't trust it.

The Dutch Republic's eyes were warm and inviting, too, when he fished New York out of the river she'd been drowning in.

He still sold her off like a slave.

New York looks away.

"Lord Kirkland informed me that you had a guardian before you came into his care," Governess Cohen continues. "Can you tell me if your guardian taught you anything regarding reading and writing?"

New York shakes her head. "No, Ma'am," she whispers, eyes trained on the floor. "I...I was read to, by him, but...I did not do any of the reading."

Governess Cohen hums, nodding still with that smile on her face. "That's alright." She puts her hand on New York's in an effort to comfort her. "That just means you and I can have more fun learning to read and write together!"

New York is not comforted by this. Not even a bit. Governess Cohen is kind, to be sure, but New York wishes England just let her stay illiterate and dumb.

New York thought Europeans liked that. She thought they liked when they thought they were better than everyone else, especially the colonizers who kept trying to convert and subjugate her mother's people.

Still, New York is a colony of the British Empire, and her place is the convert and be submissive to the will of her master.

England may have permitted her to have thinly veiled freedoms, but New York is not that dumb.

New York will prove to England that she is a good colony and that she has risen above her lowly colonial roots. England won't sell her if she's a model colony, she's sure of it.

Determination surges through New York, and her gaze turns back to Governess Cohen.

"I'm ready to start, ma'am."

//

Some months had passed since New York boarded the ship bound for London with her newfound master, England. Ever since the Dutch Republic had sold her to him, she had been plagued by fear and trepidation, feeling like an outsider in this strange and intimidating world. The grandeur of London and the weight of the Old World's empires loomed over her.

England, too, remained distant and aloof, his lips eternally pursed in disapproval. New York often found herself uncertain of his desires and intentions, desperately yearning to please him, yet constantly feeling like she fell short.

Assigned to a lavish room adorned with expensive garments, most likely far beyond the price England had paid for her, New York was assigned to a governess who sought to educate her in the ways of the Old World. Still, England's disappointment lingered, shrouding their interactions in an uneasy silence. Uncertain of her place in his empire, she pondered over her existence as his colony, desperately grasping at ways on how she could earn his approval.

Governess Cohen's lessons were daily, and New York found some confidence in her abilities. England mentioned that he would be getting reports of New York's progress, so she had hope that her good behavior and improvements would be the key to England's approval.