Revolution and Relove

Prologue

(England P.O.V)

T'was a few days only after I picked America up into my house. He was sure strong-and he sure didn't quite need any protection. It was possibly only a matter of time before he decides he can live, thereas survive alone.

The world is a lot harsher beyond his imagination, though. Although he might be able to survive on the America continent, throughout Eurasia lurks different threats that might be dangerous to him. Shall he not picked to live under me, that Bloody French Git will possibly to unthinkable things to him.

Not to mention that almost every country would want that huge landmass America has. That can possibly strengthen an empire-by a lot of means. It's just a bonus for my British empire to own such a large landmass. But sure--I shall offer him protection in return, of course.

I sighed, glancing over at America. He should be very grateful for me, in fact. If it wasn't for me, he would currently be learning all the bloody "French" ways for a country. They even eat snails in France! Just imagine him having to eat all those French food. He could never stand it.

Moreover, it is just a matter of time before he decides to leave me. I could be ready with that. It's not like that I would have bonded a lot with him anyways. He doesn't even seem to like tea. Come on! Nobody in the world hates a nice cup of tea! I went to Asia once, and even the Asians drink tea! 

Looking over at America and sipping a cup of Earl Grey, I became amused about how much he'd grown already. It's been only three days, but he's already grown quite a lot--about 2 or 3 years in what they call human age. This, of course, accounts for the number of quality British education I have been giving him. He's also pretty good in studying English, but his style... Is a bit different from mine, to say the least.

For example, take Autumn, the third season of the year. When I tried to teach him that, he decided to call it "fall" instead, because "leaves fall down". "Autumn", came from "autumpne" or "autumnus", posh ancient French and Latin words. Somehow, America decided to ignore that and simply call it "fall".

As also I have mentioned, he doesn't quite like tea. In fact, he takes this seed--what he call "beans" from trees in the yard, and tells me to make the drink for him. He calls it, "coffee". And from what I know, it makes him quite unable to fall asleep at night. And to drink it, it's basically bitter. It's just weird.

"England!" America tugged on my shirt. "When is dinner ready?" America looked at me with puppy-eyes. "Yeah, yeah, just quite a while" I smiled at him, patting his head and going into the kitchen.

America doesn't really appreciate my cooking, though. It's off of him to not enjoy the authentic English food I made. Everyone like my scones--well, except quite a few, but it's their taste problems after all.

I took out the scones from the oven, which looked black--like the normal, delicious, colour, onto the table. "Now, shall we eat, America?" I called for him. He hopped on a chair, and started to slightly nom on the scones. "Hey.. England..."

"Eh?"

 "Is this what you call delicious?"

"Of course it is, bloody twat!" 

"Eh? Okay!" 

America doesn't even know what tastes good and what doesn't? My scones are, in fact, a lot more delicious than all the "escargot" they serve in France's house. What a little git he is.

But maybe, it'll be interesting living with him.