Wings

Chapter 8: Dreams

(Canada's POV)

I stayed in my room till the sun went down. I should've accepted his apology, I thought as I changed into my plaid pyjamas. I put the feather on the hotel desk before getting into bed and falling asleep.

I woke up in my old wooden gentry.

"Good morning children" I hear my mother through the door. I get up and servants get me changed me into a red silk frock coat and white breeches. I run through the cold, candlelit hallways and reached my older brother's room. The door was creaked open so I peeked in. A servant was dressing him. The servant wore a brown sacque and a white apron.

"America I know you want to show them, but we must keep them a secret," The servant said while she put America into a blue frock coat.

"But it's uncomfortable," America whined.

"Would you rather have Britain take them away?" The servant asked while finishing up. America stayed silent and the servant sighed, "I know it's hard, but I'm doing this for you."

America looked at her, "Will I ever learn to use them?" America asked.

The servant sighed and answered, "Unless you want to keep them, you'll keep them a secret. And that means not using them at all." The servant finished up and hugged him. America hugged back. "Promise you won't tell anybody"

America looked at her, "I promise"

"Children!" I hear my fathers deep voice call and I spook. America walks out of the room not noticing me and runs downstairs. The servant comes out next and I look up at her, she is staring at me.

"You will remember this when the time is right," the servant says before down the stairs. I quickly followed them and saw my mother France. She was wearing a purple mantua that was pretty small for a French woman.

"Good morning Canada. Breakfast today is fruits and cheese," Mother said and smiled before walking away to sit and the table. The table was white with golden accents. I sat down next to America and was handed peaches and a few slices of cheese. My father soon joined us at the table. He wore a brown coat white breeches. America ate happily for it's not every day we get cheese for breakfast. We quickly finished and were excused to go play in the backyard.

America and I had fun playing scotch-hopper and jump rope.

"Hey, America?" I asked while I kicked the sack and won the game.

"Oh you frog, you won again!" America complained and ran up to me, "Do you need something?" America asked. The light of noon made his red and blue eye glow. Father always hated that they were two colours.

"What were you and that servant talking about?" I asked.

America tensed and quickly answered, "Nothing! And if we did talk about something I wouldn't tell a frog like you!" America said before running inside to start his studies. I sighed, America has gotten mean and has started to fight with father much more. I remember one time he threatened to start a revolution. He was being stupid, nobody can beat father. I went inside to start my studies.

As children, we didn't learn to govern-that was fathers job-and only learned how to read and write.

I finished my studies and looked at the English sunset. Then, I heard a high pitched scream and a thud. I ran downstairs and saw America crying over the servants-that dressed him-body.

"How could you! You killed mom!" America yelled through tears at father. I watched and the bottom stair.

"I told you to never call her mom! Her name is Native America!" Britain yelled still holding the rock that had blood spilt over it.

"Mom. P-please wake up" America said through tears and shook the body.

Britain raised the bloodied rock. "Britain enough!" France said and stood in between the father and son. America's wails could be heard throughout the house and other servants came to watch the scene. "I won't let you kill our son!" France yelled.

Britain lowered the rock, "He isn't your son. He is all mine" Britain lowered his voice and walked off to his studies. France told the other servants to get rid of the body and clean the room up. When the servants came to take the body, America didn't let go. France had to rip America away and hold him so the servants could take the bloodied body away. America kept crying.

"W-We were m-meant to be t-together fo-forever," America said through tears and coughs. France sat on the couch and hummed a french lullaby to him. A little while later a servant came back, the servant handed America a turquoise ring. America with a shaky hand took the ring and put it on. It was too big for him, but he smiled. "Thank you," He said to the servant. If father heard him say thanks to a servant he would be punished. America was the kindest to the servants and treated them as friends more than servants.

That night in bed, I could hear the distance cries of America and the even louder sound of father and mother fighting.

Then I woke up in the hotel. My coat and breeches were gone and replaced with my plaid pyjamas. That was a very strange dream, I thought, I wonder if it was real. I took out my phone and searched through my camera roll to find photos of America. I found one and zoomed into his hands.

On his right hand, was a turquoise ring.

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OH BOY, that was a good chapter! I really love history so I wanted to write a chapter like this for the longest time!

Vocabulary

Gentry: A fancy house used in the 1700s mainly used for rich people.

Frock coat: Large coat used by men over many centuries.

Breeches: Tight pants used by men through the 1700s, but has been used by both men and woman as time passed

Sacque: A unfitting woman's dress mostly used by servants.

Mantua: A dress worn by French women, and had underneath large petticoats and hoop skirts.

Scotch-hopper: Hopscotch.

Frog: a French person.