New Life

Confederates and Unionists

The next few weeks went well. By August, America had grown. Physically by a few years and looked about ten years old.

"America," Prussia called. "You want some dinner?"

"I'll be out in a minute."

Prussia stood behind the bedroom door, the one that hadn't opened once that day.

"America, you've been in there all day."

"In a minute!"

Prussia heard America yelling from inside the bedroom. It sounded like he was arguing with himself. Prussia frowned.

"Are you okay?"

"We're fine!" There was some quiet talk before his voice rose again. "I have rights!" America shouted.

"Slavery's wrong!" he yelled back.

"Says you! Just let me be my own country!"

"The Union's gotta stay together, though!"

"Says your president!"

"At least I have a president!"

"Davis is so a president!"

Germany stopped beside Prussia. "Is he okay?"

Prussia shrugged. "I don't know. Sounds like he's arguing with himself."

Germany frowned. "Civil War?"

"See? Germany and Prussia are here to help me!" America shouted from inside the room.

"No way! They're here to help me!"

"Confederacy!"

"Union!"

"Definitely Civil War," Prussia agreed.

Germany nodded. He stepped forward and knocked on the door. "America. It's time for dinner," he said.

There was quieter muttering before the door opened.

The two men looked down to their brother. He wore a grey cap on his head and had a leather belt around his waist where a scabbard hung, a sword in his hand. He looked up to his brothers, glaring. "What?"

"Dinner's ready," Prussia said sternly. "You coming to eat, or do you want to starve?"

"I'm coming," he mumbled. He walked past the two and into the kitchen where he took a seat at the table with his brothers and began to eat.

"So, America," Prussia started. "Who were you talking to in there?"

"Union," he said bitterly.

"Sounds like you two were having quite the argument," Germany said, lifting his fork to his mouth.

"Hmph. He was trying to say that you were on his side."

"Well-"

"And then he started insulting my president!" He threw his hand to the side, his fork flying from his hand. Germany frowned when the fork collided with his cheek. "Like Lincoln's any better," America muttered.

Germany rubbed his cheek, frowning. He looked down at his plate, mashed potatoes splattered around where the fork had landed.

"America," Prussia said sternly.

"What?"

"What do you say to West?"

America frowned. "I don't know."

Prussia's fork clinked gently with his plate. "What do you say when you hurt someone?"

"I'm sorry?"

"So?"

"I didn't mean to hit him with the fork."

"You did it, though."

"I didn't mean it!"

"Columbus didn't mean to find you."

America scowled and crossed his arms. "I apologize, Germany."

"Apology accepted."

"Can I be excused?" America asked without looking up.

"Yes," Prussia said.

America stood from his seat, moving to take his plate with him.

"The food stays here." Prussia lifted his fork, topped with potatoes. "If you're going to eat, you're going to eat at this table."

The boy glared at him before sitting back down. Dinner was quiet. America only scowled when any attempts of conversation were aimed his way.

A few days later, America came into the kitchen with a blue cap, instead of the grey one. He sat down at the table, next to Germany, quietly.

"Good morning, America."

"Morning, Germany."

"You seem very calm today."

America kept quiet. "The confederacy wants to make their own country."

Prussia set a plate down in front of each of his brothers. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"You'll keep the Union together. I have faith," Prussia said as he sat down with his own plate.

America smiled.

-

"So, how is he?"

"You know that theory you had on him reliving his history?"

"Yes?"

"I think you're right."

"Where's he at?" Austria asked.

"Civil War."

America came running through the room, a grey cap on his head, a confederate flag flying behind him.

Where the hell is he getting this stuff? Prussia thought.

"Hey, America. You want to talk to Austria?"

The boy stopped before rushing up to Prussia and holding his hand out. Prussia handed him the phone.

"Hello," America said after he put the phone to his ear. "Would you like to sponsor the Confederate States of America?"

Prussia's eyebrows rose as he watched his little brother.

"In return, we'll supply you with cotton." He kept quiet for a moment. "A shame." He handed the phone back to Prussia before running off again.

The next few weeks, America was on and off. Every other day he would trade personalities. Neither Prussia nor Germany could say they were upset to see the Confederacy go.