the united states of america, except i make her cunty

america meets brazil

To my dearest New York,

Your last letter warmed my heart. To know that your stay with Portugal has been enjoyable and entertaining brings solace to my aching soul. Would it have been my wish, you and I would be home in London, playing with Guinevere and her maids all the days. Oh, how I wish you and I could relinquish the darkness of the civil war and return to tea parties and church with you at my side.

Alas, this horrid civil war has been long and raging, and it shows no signs of stopping any time soon. Its grasp on my lands has been unwavering and unyielding. Do not fret, my dear, for though I cannot be by your side, your maids and Governess Cohen shall offer you the company and companionship I cannot. One day you and I shall be reunited.

Portugal has been my ally for many centuries, and in my own letters to him, I have received stunning reports of your behavior and improvements during lessons. You make me proud every day, my sweet colony, and with each report I get I am amazed by the progress you've made. From the savage little colony to the lovely, remarkable little girl I cherish. Lately, I've been thinking about how I can surprise you when I retrieve you, to reward you for being such a loyal little colony for me. When you and I come home, I shall gift to you my labor of love, one I'm sure you'll love.

To answer your inquiry about why Portugal does not raise any of his colonies as I have for you, the answer would lie with him alone. Our empires are vast and expansive, and it takes a diligent and dedicated hand to instill proper values and ladylike manners to eliminate savagery from our colonies. You're very special to me, New York, and the opportunities I have given to you I would not extend to any of my other colonies. Many other empires would say the same.

I'm pleased you've managed to make friends with the human soldier that guards your door. I'm sure Davie shall come to love you as much as I have. You charm anyone you meet, New York.

As time carries us into another decade, please know that I will always love you. I will always find it in my heart to think of you, even as the pain of myself splitting in two comes to head. You are what keeps me myself during these burdensome times, and I love you more than you could know. The thought of you keeps me sane.

To the New World and back,

England

New York hugs the letter to her chest, willing tears to not fall down her cheeks, her delicate frame trembling under the weight of the emotions she feels. She misses England so much, and although Portugal has been kind to her, she wishes England were here to come and take her home.

His presence, familiar embrace, warm smile, and soothing voice are all that she can think about.

Guinevere silently sits next to her, the beloved doll the only comfort she has in this foreign country. The room is foreign and frightening, more so New York's real room when she first arrived in London.

As New York helplessly watches ships float up and down the harbor, she resists the impeccable urge to scream. It's been almost two years since the civil war started. Why hasn't it been won yet? It's like centuries have passed and her heart yearns to b with England with each passing day.

Hesitatingly, New York trudges to her door, her small hand slowly turning the cool, iron knob to peek out.

Davie, the soldier that guards her door, gives her a small smile and a nod in acknowledgment. He's a bastard from one of the Portuguese noble houses, not that it really matters. "Is there something I can do for you, princesinha?"

New York bites her lip, looking down both ends of the hallway anxiously. She slowly nods, willing her tone not to be whiny. "How long do civil wars normally last, Davie?"