Farthest North -CountryHumans AU-

Like Father Like Son

         "She'd be safe with me! It's a cruel world here!" America paced as his father, U.K. (formerly known as Britain) sipped on his cup of tea as he listened, in truth only half listening as he watched the empty fire place, "She'd be nothing without me! Another Territory being tossed around."

         "Indeed," United Kingdom nodded, taking another short sip.

         "I provide for her, I've taken care of her, though I admit I had my faults."

         "Indubitably."

        "But I care for her! She's one of my strongest States. My largest! Poor Texas... Did you know that her people always joke of that? If you cut Alaska's land in half Texas would be the third largest State!" He laughed, "It's genius! She's a genius, witty, prepared for anything-"

         "Even leaving you?" U.K. glanced at his eldest son, earning a harsh stare in return.

         "Not funny."

     The man sighed as he lifted himself off the chair, slipping past the boy and leaving his cup and saucer on a tray carefully placed on a small table. He had so much hope for him, yet here he was.

         "You know, you could always come back," he shrugged his suit clad shoulders, rubbing away spare dirt from his monacle, "I'd happily welcome you into my house again, as would your mother. The poor woman, she misses you dearly. Your States would vanish and you wouldn't have to worry about any of this happening."

America's mouth hung agape as he stared, slumped over, glasses falling from his face. He came here to get some advice and instead he's being invited to betray his trusting people and basically forget his Declaration of Independence?

         "Seriously? I came here to get some advice not an invitation to step back into a cycle of abuse!" The American seethed, "You can keep your heirarchy and hypocrisy to yourself, thanks, I choose my freedom."

The older man hummed as he poured another cup of tea, dropping pieces of sugar cubes with a ski-plip, ski-plip. Picking up a piece of paper, he read over it carefully, blowing on the hot beverage before taking his first sip. America was left in a deafening silence.

         " 'My complaints are simple,' " he read, the same words from the second meeting, " 'you all know them well, but I shall repeat them for formality's sake. Ever since Russian Empire, currently known as USSR, I have been stuck in a cycle of abuse, neglect, and mistreatment. My resources exploited, my political presence non-existent. No matter my cries, no matter my attempts, I am seen as unimportant as an individual, only important because of my tiring resources, gone unnoticed by my step father, America.' "

Said Country sat on a spare couch, decorated royal blue upholstery engulfing him as he listened for the first time. He heard it during the meeting, yes, but he never truly listened. It still hurt to hear those words, a pounding in his head equivalent to a gunshot, and he knew those well. Meanwhile, U.K. continued.

         " 'I love him dearly, and am forever grateful for his heroic kindness all those years ago. When my knight in shining armor came to rescue me from the horrid dragon, who would force me to drink liquid flame each night.' "

 America held back a sob. He remembered her telling him these horror stories. Nights filled with terror from a bottle being emptied into her throat.

         " 'But I can't stay if the best position for me to be in is not as his State, but as his ally. I must follow the path that promises my own safety and well being in order to further provide for all those whom I've met and become fast friends with. My position as a Country would benefit not only me but the world as a whole!' " he added emphasis, as excited at this prospect as Alaska was when she gave her speech, " 'I mean no harm. I only want freedom."

     The older Country set the paper down, one of many copied from the meeting they held. Each Country received a stack to look over. It was safe to assume America never opened his. U.K. sighed as he watched America heave a silent sob. His sunglasses were haphazardly thrown to the side, barely on the couch and soon to fall. Placing the tea cup down, its contents no where near depleted, he set himself beside his son, placing a gentle, fatherly hand on his back.

         "She wants the same thing as you," he told him, "And you want the same thing as me, all those years ago. America I was hoping you had learned from my mistake. I drove you away, even now there is still contention between us. Don't follow in my footsteps on this. You have in every possible way you can, being one of the most powerful Countries in the world," he chuckled, proud of his son's achievement, an achievement he didn't need him to take hold of, "but this, is insanity, I will admit it now, seeing you in such agony. The same agony I felt."

America peered at his father with a skeptical eye. He doubted his leaving him was as painful as this. United Kingdom frowned, unimpressed with the younger Country's skepticism.

         "There is a pain here," he pressed at the back of his own neck, "and here," he circled from the back of his neck, around his forehead and back again, "I described it as a sword tip edging it's way through my brain to your mother. It drove me insane, I had to keep you just so I could stop the pain. I was losing an entire colony! Me, Great Britain!" He huffed with an amused chuckle at his own mistakes, not forgotten but long passed, "Be greater, son," he told him, "be far greater."

     America watched as his hands trembled. The scenes at Canada's house played in his mind. Finding Alaska, helping her to the couch once she was dried off. Her teeth, her dead stare, so hard to read. Was she angry? Was there bloodlust? Was she anything like Third Reich? The only clear emotion shown, that he remembered, was pure hatred. In that singular moment of hate, she attacked him... because of his own stupid, idiotic words.

         "I think," he choked on his words, tears falling on his hands as he watched them grow red in his own mind, "it's to late for that."