Weird’s Books

A blog of all the things I’ve written. Requests open!

[weirdestbooks]

Hello! My name is Ailbhe Saoirse (or Weird). This is my writing blog where I keep all my books and oneshots. My main blog is @weirdestarrow and my countryhumans sideblog is @weirdestcountryhumans

If you wanna support me, check out my Kofi!

I take requests (although not smut) so if you have something you think I should write, shoot me an ask! If you have and it has been a while since then, you can check here to see if your oneshot has been denied.

If you are interested in any of my headcanons, I have a website that explains many of them. If you want to check that out, or shoot me an ask, I'd love to explain. I also have my writing schedule here, where you can see upcoming projects and chapters

Table of Contents

Historical Countryhumans Books

Secrecy and Deception: [Completed]

The Cold War. Over 50 years of battles fought between two ideologies, sponsored by the two most powerful countries in the world. On one side, the United States of America and capitalism. On the other side, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. And in this standoff of nations, war is not an option. But still, only one can remain. (Countryhumans Cold War)

The Consequence of Loyalty: [Completed]

When Kentucky was sent to the Philippines to prepare for a possible Japanese invasion, he did not expect to enjoy it. However, as he got closer to the Phillippines and when he was eventually ordered to flee, Kentucky was forced to decide between following orders and staying behind to defend the Phillippines for as long as possible. (Countryhumans World War 2 in the Philippines)

The Occupation [Completed]

It's 1968, right at the peak of the Civil Rights movement. In April, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. is killed. Unrest breaks out throughout the nation. National Guards are called out for most cities. But only one city was occupied by the Guard for more than a few days. Wilmington, Delaware was under occupation for over 9 months. And let's just say that it didn't turn out well for Delaware.

The Shot Heard Around the World: [Completed]

Thirteen Colonies loved his Father, but after the Seven Year's War, he wasn't sure if his father felt the same way. His Father just needed to listen to him. If he didn't, well, Thirteen and his Father weren't going to be on the same page. Or be a part of the same empire. Because Thirteen could only take so much before he would take drastic action himself. (Countryhumans American Revolution)

A Civil Disagreement:

North v South. Free State v Slave State. States Governments v Federal Government. For being a country holding the name of United, America was anything but united. The states still stuck together though. That is until December 20, 1860. The bloodiest fight the Union has ever had is about to begin. (Countryhumans American Civil War)

The Stories of Puppets

To many countryhumans, the worst fate they could fall victim to would be becoming a puppet state, losing their free will, and becoming a mouthpiece for another state. To many countryhumans, the idea of being born as a puppet state is horrific, born as a tool for another and not a being with purpose. Despite their horrors over puppet states, many countryhumans do not tell the stories of those puppet states, those who survived, and those who didn’t. These are those forgotten stories.

Dominion of New England: [Completed]

In 1686, Britain decided it was time to unite some of the colonies in New England into a dominion under his control. This is the story of that dominion, the Dominion of New England. (Countryhumans History of the Dominion of New England)

The Overthrown Kingdom [Completed]

The United States of America was not dealing with the overthrow of the Hawaiian Kingdom well. Batting his own thoughts and the thoughts of his people and government, the fate of the Kingdom’s personification lies in his hands. The Empire of Japan was furious. The kingdom she so adored was now in the hands of Western Powers, and Japan knew it was only a matter of time before they took Hawaii’s life. Japan didn’t know what she could do, only that she had to do something to save Hawaii. Kalaupapa missed his mother. Ever since she died with the Kingdom, his world seems to have become muted. He just wanted his mom back, no matter how unrealistic it was.

The Addition of Three [Completed]

Louisiana, Florida, and New Mexico. Three territories that were colonized and settled by different European nations. And yet, they all ended up as a part of the United States of America through various purchases and political plays, this is how United States adopted three of his children.

Forget Them Not: The Great Countryhumans Archive:

In a world where countries are personified, an organization called the Countryhumans History and Research Archival Project has dedicated itself to recording the stories and histories of these countryhumans. (AKA an archive of fake newspapers and such that canonically exists inside my countryhumans universe. Just a little fun project to explore different angles of things)

Regular Countryhumans Books

Secret States: [Completed]

America was the last person anyone expected to be a father. But America is a father to many. Sometimes, those kids convince each other to do ridiculous things. That's how Texas found himself about to walk into a UN meeting.

Wrong Reflection: [Completed]

For about 400 years, Alfred F Jones believed he was the only personification of the United States of America. That is, until his counterpart from another dimension appeared in New York City—cue chaos. (Or my kind of crack Countryhumans x Hetalia fanfic)

Countryhumans Oneshots

Historical Oneshots (Ancient Times to 1900 | 1900-Present)

Other Oneshots

Countryhumans Oneshots: Human POV

Countryhumans Hispanic Heritage Month 2024. [Completed]

Countryhumans Hispanic Heritage Month 2025 [Completed]

Countryhumans AUs

Cage of Eyes AU:

1984 x Countryhumans AU, featuring what would affect the countryhumans in a universe like that. Featuring oneshots and books.

There Be Dragons (Celtic Islands AU)

England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland dealt with a lot of shit, being the personifications of the islands just north of mainland Europe. Which led to an idea. What if they become a Union of Countries, to grow their own strength and security? Part of an AU co-created with JMysty4 about “What if the Norman Conquest Never Happened?”

When the Fire's Extinguished (Warpath AU)

The Kingdom of Hawaiʻi was betrayed by all her allies when the overthrow of her monarchy. She had been turned into a phoenix against her will and was imprisoned and abused by the Republic government. That’s how the original story goes, in any case. But this is not the story. This is the story of a Hawaiʻi who embraced her fire and used it to enact her revenge. No matter the cost.

Gift of Flight AU

A Wings of Fire x Countryhumans AU, where the countryhumans are dragons, and we have done our best to give them similar backgrounds despite different histories. We've essentially kept the characters the same while using WoF to explore new stories.

British Michigan AU Collection

An AU of oneshots going over what would happen if Michigan had been captured by the British in 1812.

Universal-Casey’s Soviet America AU Oneshot Collection

Oneshots written for @universal-casey's Soviet America AU, about what happens to America after the USSR takes over his country and makes him an SSR.

Countrycats AU:

Just a fun AU where all personifications are cats. All tagged with #countrycats

[weirdestbooks]

A Civil Disagreement Chapter 36

Meeting with Douglass (Wattpad | Ao3)

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August 10, 1863

The District of Columbia had not been there for the meeting. While she was privy to a lot, being the capital (it didn't really matter what they made her privy to in the end, when she and her people still lacked so many of the rights her siblings flaunted, not realizing how much it hurt), she was not privy to every meeting that President Lincoln had, even if Dad had asked that she be kept in the loop to ensure that he was up to date on everything happening in the capital.

(Even if District of Columbia was sure that it was not her dad that was getting most of her letters.)

She knew that Frederick Douglass was meeting with President Lincoln to talk about the rights of Black folk, about the promises the American government was making, about emancipation, and Black military participation, and everything else.

District of Columbia knew her people. She knew what color her skin was. She knew what she looked like, even if everyone preferred that they all pretend that they looked like something they did not.

After Frederick Douglass met with President Lincoln, District of Columbia found him, to guide him from the building and have her own chat with him.

"You're an admirable man, Mr. Douglass," District of Columbia said in greeting, holding out her hand with a smile. "I am glad that President Lincoln agreed to meet with you. I am sorry that I was not there, I was not allowed, but I would have loved to be."

Frederick Douglass shook her hand, returning her smile.

"It is nice to meet you to," he said, and District of Columbia brought her hand back down to her side, feeling very awkward.

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, what were you and President Lincoln talking about? My father wants me to keep him up to date on what is happening in the capital while he is busy with the battles, and I believe that this is a very important occasion," District of Columbia said, her back straightening against her will, forming into the posture that had been drilled into her, even as it stretched her scars.

"I was asking that he ensure stronger protections against discrimination for Black soldiers in the Union Army, and going over all the misconduct they faced, and other critiques regarding that situation. My sons are in the army, and I will not be recruiting anyone else until they have some protection that allows them to serve and free our people without having to be belittled for it," Frederick Douglass explained. District of Columbia nodded.

"I'm sorry you all have to face that. The war has become a very personal fight for you all, just as personal as it is for my family, and…your support is important, especially since this fight is so important for you all. I can tell my father about this, see if there is anything that he can do, though, with the changing generals, I am not sure how long any changes he tries will last. What did you want for the Black soldiers?" District of Columbia asked.

Frederick Douglass' expression shifted.

"Do you think he will help?" he asked, and District of Columbia sighed.

"I hope he will. That's all I can really promise," District of Columbia said, not wanting to give a false impression, knowing that she couldn't make her father do anything, that she had never been able to make her father do anything, but maybe if her father saw this as a way to end the war faster, he would listen.

"Well, putting this in his eyes might help something get done," Frederick Douglass said, and for all the excitement he did see to have, about the bright future ahead for his people, about what all these new laws would mean, he also seemed really…tired.

District of Columbia couldn't blame him. She understood why.

People think that just because they gave you something that could improve your life, that putting you on equal footing suddenly was too much, that asking for it made you greedy because you had already been given something, so why were you being so selfish?

She hated it, but that…that was the way that the world was sometimes.

"I hope it does. Now, what critiques did you have?" District of Columbia asked.

"Black soldiers are paid less, they have no protections under prisoner of war laws, and they are not being promoted. I recruited for the 54th and 55th Massachusetts regiments, but I refuse to recruit anymore until this is resolved," Frederick Douglass said. District of Columbia nodded sharply.

No prisoner of war protections for the people who needed it most, the people who would be sold into slavery, and the people who could and would be lost forever if they did not win this war.

District of Columbia felt sick. No wonder Frederick Douglass stopped recruiting. The idea that you could be sending more of your people into slavery while trying to help them fight for their freedom was horrific.

The other two she had expected, but had…had they really not thought about what was going to happen if they didn't protect Black prisoners? They already had evidence that the white prisoners were being mistreated, so…

"I will ensure that he is made aware of this. While I can't say that I am surprised by any of this, it is terrible that nothing is being done to protect Black prisoners of war, with how…well, with how we know exactly what the rebels are fighting for. If anything, I will do what I can to try to get them more protections, but I don't have much of a voice or a representative in Congress, so I don't know if it will go anywhere," District of Columbia said with an apologetic smile.

"You're doing something, and that is more than a lot of people can say. Thank you," Frederick Douglass said. District of Columbia tipped her head.

"You're welcome. Be safe."

[weirdestbooks]

The Stories of Puppets Chapter 3

Ligurian Republic (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Genoa knew that she no longer had the power and influence she once had. It made some things harder, but she was still respected and was an integral part of trade in the Mediterranean, so even if she was not the strongest power, she still had influence that was important for beings like them.

She was secure in her position and who she was, despite what others had to say. She enjoyed good relations with her allies and worked with them.

She wasn't the biggest country in the world, but she had never needed to be.

The French Revolution had changed things.

But Genoa had never imagined that it would turn into something like this.

France becoming a republic? An interesting change, but not one that Genoa would worry too much about, would let France figure out herself. A new personification for France? Well, with all the political chaos in France, Genoa would be very surprised if there wasn't a personification change.

Genoa had expected a lot.

She hadn't expected this.

The new France was nothing like her mother, the ally that Genoa once enjoyed good relations with, but someone colder, crueler, and determined to control the world.

Genoa had kept a careful eye on France's invasions, but she had never expected France to come for her. She was already a republic, and France had argued that her invasions were to remove monarchies and replace them with republics, even as her newfound republics seemed to die so quickly.

Perhaps she should have expected it, but she and the old France had been equals, been friends, and…perhaps it was foolish to think that the goodwill would have transferred over.

Genoa had sold the old France Corsica.

That was what gave France the very general she used to take over Genoa.

It was quick and sudden, and although she knew the stereotypes and fears that came with it, Genoa prepared to fight herself.

She might be a woman, might be a much smaller nation than she was, but like hell was she going to just let herself be taken.

She would not be killed just to be replaced with a republic France would dispose of, a republic like those that were far too willing to give up their purpose and reason for existence to obey her.

Genoa had decided that she would never be that. She knew there was discontent in her nation; she knew she had her own problems, but they were hers to fix, never France's.

Genoa had tried, and Genoa had failed.

France invaded her country, and had captured Genoa.

There was a shame in being taken, even if Genoa could be assured that at least she had fought.

The morning of June 14 had dawned like any other, and France had entered the room that had been turned into a temporary gilded prison—France wanted to keep up the illusion that she was liberating Genoa, but it was equally as clear that Genoa wouldn't be allowed out until she obeyed.

Genoa hated this. She had once been the strongest power in the Mediterranean. And now she was at the mercy of a former ally's bloodthirsty daughter. How had the world come to this?

"Oh, my Genoa, today is the most wonderful day," France said, her teeth bared in something that was probably meant to be a smile, but just left Genoa's skin itching. "Do you know why?"

"No, I don't," Genoa said, voice tight. She didn't think she could imagine what France had planned, though a sinking feeling in her stomach told her that she really did know; she just didn't want to think about it.

"Napoleon is going to complete the liberation of your country," France said, and Genoa closed her eyes as the pit in her stomach seemed to deepen, confirming the fear that she hadn't wanted to imagine.

"So you will kill me, like you have killed others?" Genoa asked, and France laughed, something that was all the more terrifying. If not death, what could be so much worse to please a conqueror like her?

"No, you're going to become a new nation, free from the oppression of the elite, a republic like me. My Ligurian Republic, and I will guide you into a wonderful and brighter future. Everything is going to be okay. This is the natural state of everyone," France said, and Genoa gritted her teeth to argue otherwise, to remind France that she had already been a republic, regardless of anything France tried to say.

But…her mouth didn't open. It was as if it had been glued shut. Genoa's eyes widened—no, not even her eyes widened. She wanted them to, they should have, but they stayed in place.

Everything…everything refused to move.

France's eyes widened, and another smile crossed her face.

"Oh, your eyes have changed," France said, grabbing Genoa's face and pulling it closer, fingers prying an eye open. Genoa tried to fight it, but her body remained unresponsive.

Genoa tried to ignore the growing horror, the sickness in her stomach, and put all of her attention into fighting France, into fighting against the power that had frozen her body still.

She didn't care what France had to say about her eyes. She just needed to be out, to be free and able to fight.

"I hadn't expected it to happen this soon, but I suppose this just means you really needed to be one of mine. Don't worry, doll, I'll take good care of you. I've gotten better at it, and you're older, and the older ones always last better," France said, pulling away with the same smile.

Genoa didn't like those words, didn't like the implication they held, and tried harder to fight.

Surely something had to give. This…this force on her body, it was nothing that Genoa had ever seen before, so surely it could be fought.

"Ligurian Republic," France then said.

"Not my name," Genoa snarled internally, wishing she could say it to France's face.

"Follow me," France then ordered, and Genoa wished she could laugh, could tell France she had no intentions of doing so, and even if she did, her body had frozen anyway.

But…her body didn't stay frozen.

Genoa's body jerked, painful and sudden, and Genoa tried to seize control of it, take advantage of this opportunity to stab France in the neck, but…her body didn't respond to her.

Her…her body was responding to what France had said.

Her face didn't move, didn't twist in anger or rage or betrayal, but remained blank as her body began to walk, following France.

"What is this?" Genoa wondered, wished she could speak out loud, wishing she could…could do anything, and feeling very much like she had been possessed. "What have you done to me!"

The words were only said in her head, but Genoa's stomach began to sink as she recalled all those stories of overly obedient republics that France had created, the ones that obeyed her until their final breaths.

What had France done to them? What had France done to her?

"Now, my republic, since you're my doll now, you don't need all the things you had before. They were Genoa's things, but you're not Genoa now, you're mine. Once we get to your old room, I'll make sure you get the things you need," France said, and the horror in Genoa's gut turned into a burning anger, one that Genoa could taste.

Doll? France was going to rob her blind because she had found a way to take Genoa's body from her, and could now pretend that Genoa was not a person.

Did France even know she still existed behind the body that responded to France's orders, and not Genoa's? Or did she think that Genoa really was gone, and that only a shell had been left behind?

Genoa didn't know. She didn't know if it would be better to know to begin with.

Genoa did know she hated this with every fiber of her being.

And…that she was going to fight this. What else could she do?

[weirdestbooks]

There Be Dragons Chapter 6

The Meeting (Wattpad | Ao3)

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There was a strange tension as they gathered. Not necessarily bad, but not really good either.

Just a tension, the preparation of a group of countries ready to debate something that will change the very nature of their existence and the way that they interact with each other, and with others.

If they agreed with this plan, nothing would be the same, for better or for worse.

"So, England, your plan," Cymru said, speaking in his own language, knowing the other man knew it by now, and wanting to break the tense, uneasy, and dare he say hopeful atmosphere that had developed as they waited.

For what, he didn't know.

"What about it? I am sure there are concerns and questions, but this is where we speak to try to solve any issues or concerns we have," England said, wings pressed close to his back. Éire snorted.

"We know what a meeting is," he said, causing Alba to smack him on the arm, and a small smile graced its way across Éire's face. Cymru rolled his eyes, returning his focus to England.

"I think there is merit to it. We are smaller countries, and that means we get stepped on. Not to mention, we have seen how having a common crown has helped Castile and Aragon. They have been able to claim and control a lot of land. Maybe we won't ever see it on that scale, but we can see that it does work," Cymru pointed out, and Alba nodded.

"Especially since I think we have all been feeling threats on our colonies. A show of strength like this protects them all," Alba added, following Cymru's example and speaking in his own language, turning this into one of the multi-lingual meetings that tested their ability to remember each other's languages, running a hand through his beard. Éire hummed.

"I won't deny that, I have thought about it as well, but I have a few concerns. The protection that we get will help us, but how much autonomy are we giving up, and are we putting you in charge?" Éire asked, eyes hard and voice firm, "Because I am not giving up myself for more security."

He was not antagonistic, but Cyrmu could see the tension and the fear written in Éire's body, and felt sympathy for the younger man, last to unify and an outcast even among their islands.

Éire had good reason to be worried, to mistrust what would happen.

He had the most to lose.

"I am not making this to put myself in charge, nor to make my capital the capital of a union like this. It is meant to be something that has all of us working together, not one of us ruling over the others. We all have our own histories and monarchies, and we can't just erase three kings to make one more powerful. We figure out something that allows us to share," England explained, voice clear. Éire hummed and didn't say anything else, folding his hands on the table as if he were watching and thinking.

"So we are in agreement about that. Somehow, we make this work without sacrificing our own autonomy, finding a shared leader or way of doing things that allows us to stay Cymru, Alba, England, and Éire while also having this organization for us, correct?" Alba asked. Everyone nodded.

"I know we want to do this for colony defense, so what would we do about that? Joint colony, or do we all run our own and just fight together to protect them?" Cymru asked, thinking. No one had brought it up yet, but it would probably mean a new house in the Land In-Between, too, unless they were close enough that that was negligible.

"I think it will probably depend on what type of government we end up having for this union. I know Castile and Aragon have their common king rule theirs, but we are not going to be repeating that, so that's not an issue," England added.

"Would we raise any new colonies together? If this does work, we are probably creating a union personification like Castile and Aragon did, therefore we are probably either not going to be the parents of any new colonies, and it will be the union that is, or it is going to whoever's men were most involved," Éire added, leaning forward a little. "And I have every intention of raising my daughter."

It was a firm boundary, and it was clear that Éire was not going to let that point be argued anymore, not that Cymru could blame him. He had lost all of his family with his unification; of course, he would cling to his daughter harder, the last family member that he had left.

"Yeah, it's probably for the best we all raise our own kids. They are cousins, so they can just be that, no need to get complicated," Alba said, presumably to the group, but his eyes were on Éire. Cymru sighed.

"I was talking more about the political side of things. I figured we were all raising our own kids and presumably living together," Cymru said, and something…sad passed over Éire and Alba's face at that.

It was hard to remember that they had no one, not in the way that Cymru and England did with their counties, so…it made sense they were lonely.

Even if Alba had done them no favors with the loneliness thing by killing Strathclyde. There was a reason that Cymru now thought of England as the sole speaker of Cumbric now. Sometimes, Cymru wondered if England was trying to keep Strathclyde's memory alive, even if he was not sure how close they had been.

"A shared house sounds like a disaster," Éire said, before standing up suddenly. "This entire thing sounds stupid and foolhardy, and something that is going to kill us all. We all have our own languages, our own religions, our own histories, and this asks us to give it all up. You know just as well as I do that I am the outlier in this, and I am not going to give up myself to serve you."

With those biting words, Éire left.

"Well, that could have gone better," England muttered.

"He has reason to be hesitant," Cymru pointed out, though he knew that that was not the only reason. Alba finished the thought.

"He's scared. I…I am going to talk to him. I think that this is best done with Éire, even if he is his own island," Alba said, before walking out after Éire.

Cymru sighed.

He wondered if this meant that this idea was truly going to be over before it even had the chance to begin.

[weirdestbooks]

A Civil Disagreement Chapter 35

Failed Assault (Wattpad | Ao3)

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July 18, 1863

Maine wanted to do anything but attack Fort Wagner again. He knew that taking the fort would help them, but it was proving to be a bloody, bloody effort, and if they continued to attack it, Maine worried that they would bleed their entire force out.

The first assault on Fort Wagner had been the first battle that Maine fought in, and he shuddered at the blood lost in it.

He had a greater understanding of what his father talked about in his letters, though Maine also had the added pressure of looking after Grandfather.

Maine…he knew now why everyone wanted this war to be over, even if it meant destroying their family.

This fort was important, as it controlled the southern approach to Charleston Harbor, and in order to keep the blockade of trade, they needed to be able to control it, because there were enough people slipping through the blockade that tightening that noose was important.

But…Maine didn't have much hope that they would win, not after the bloodshed from last week, not with the approach being a strip of sand bordered by ocean and marsh, and it was…well, it seemed like even if they would take the fort, it would come with a high cost.

A cost that Maine knew none of them wanted to pay, but would have to, for their cause of freedom and unity.

Maybe this time they would have more luck, however.

The day had started with a Union bombardment of the fort, from ironclads in the water to artillery on the ground. The bombs rained onto the fort with brutal noises, as Maine's tension seemed to grow every hour.

He knew as soon as the bombardment was over, they were going to attack.

He also knew that his brigade was not going to lead the attack. That didn't make him feel any better.

It was Father's colored troops, the 54th Massachusetts, that were going to lead the fight, and while Maine knew it was a chance to prove themselves and show their might as soldiers, he also couldn't help but feel like they were being sent to be ripped apart before the rest of the brigades came.

He hoped it wasn't for that reason that they were just being given the chance to show they were real soldiers, something the rest of the nation doubted, but…after the first failed assault, Maine knew that they knew how bloody this could be.

He knew what was going to happen.

Even if they won, in many ways, they lost.

Perhaps that was why Maine kept an eye on the 54th Massachusetts. Because it was his father's troops, and maybe, just maybe, he felt like he should be able to write to his father about what had happened to them.

He didn't want them to just die without any mention of what they were going to do, the great price to be paid, and how they helped Maine, because he was going to be backing the 54th Massachusetts, and their success was Maine's success.

He wished…he wished the colored troops could be in any other battle than this, freeing slaves like he was sure so many of them had to.

As the sun began to dip over the horizon, the intense shelling that had made up the entire day began to crawl to an end, and Maine steeled himself for battle.

They were attacking in the evening, presumably to have both the cover of darkness and not give the rebels any time to recover from the intense shelling of the day.

Maine hoped it would prevent bloodshed.

He knew it was only a hope and would never become reality.

Maine was about to fight his second battle of the war on the same cursed soil he fought the first one on, praying that the bombardment would actually do something and ensure that they could win, because…he did not want to partake in another bloodbath.

Maine was no stranger to war; it was almost an old friend at this point, with how he had been more involved during the War of Independence, and then invaded, pillaged, and nearly taken in the War of 1812.

War had been to his shores more than once. War had called to him like an old friend more than once.

Considering when he had been born, while being invaded by Britain's forces, war was almost his mother.

That didn't mean he had to love it, or become used to it. If anything, it gave him more reason to hate it.

He really did wish there was a way to end this quicker.

"Prepare for the assault!" someone ordered, and Maine picked up his rifle, before loading it, the numb feeling of horror growing in his chest.

It was like he already knew that this was not going to go well, and wanted so badly to stop it, even if he had no power to do so.

As they landed, they prepared their march on the fort, and Maine squinted at it through the dusk, wondering if he was seeing it right.

It…it looked undamaged.

But surely it had to be the night and the distance and the angle, because there was no way that they could bombard a fort for eight hours and not have it do serious damage.

Maine refused to believe it and put the observation from his mind, refusing to think about it any longer.

It would do him no good. He knew that by now.

Maine focused on everything else.

The men around him. The men of the 54th Massachusetts preparing for the first assault. Then, the assault itself.

Maine had never been more grateful for the fact that they had decided on a dusk attack. It made it all the more easier, not having to see the bodies as they tried to make that final needed push.

Tried and tried, until they had to fall back.

Until this assault failed as well, with more lives left to bleed out on the sand.

God, what a time it was.

[weirdestbooks]

When the Fire’s Extinguished Chapter 25

The First Sign of Respect (Wattpad | Ao3)

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United States had just won a war. Won the first war that she had lived through, while only being a few years old.

But now she had won. She had beaten the Spanish Empire, one of the strong empires of old, and…and she had proven herself.

She didn't pretend that it was going to end the pressure and the hate and the confirmation, but…but it was something that proved that she wasn't weak, that she was capable of being a country, and could bring her people to prosperity.

She wasn't a failure because she wasn't her father.

She was a good nation.

"It is good to see you, Spanish Empire," United States said as the other country strode into the room as if he owned it, dressed as if he were the victorious country and not the loser.

It was infuriating, but United States didn't comment on it. She had won the war, and now all they needed was for this treaty signing to go well, and it would all be over, and she had no intention of causing things to become worse.

"It's good to see you, too," Spanish Empire said, before smirking, "No states with you?"

"I wasn't aware that subdivisions had a role in international politics," United States said, though her hands tightened. Spanish Empire was clearly trying to get under her skin, and the fact that it was working was infuriating. "I am a fully grown country. Being new does not make me incompetent."

Spanish Empire hummed.

"It is so strange that you ended up as a woman. Something so unnatural compared to what you were before," Spanish Empire said. "You would be attractive if not for that fact."

United States felt her skin crawl at that comment, not liking it. She had been warned that the Spanish Empire was a flirt, but…it was a different experience experiencing it in person.

She was taller than he, so at least he didn't have to worry about him looming over her. That would have been a lot worse.

"Well, one of us is an empire that lost a war to a child," United States said, her voice calm, "So many instead of taking cheap shots because you're upset that you lost. The sooner this is over with, the sooner we don't have to see each other anymore."

She didn't know why people liked using it as a cheap blow against her. It hurt less and less every time.

And…she was tired of it.

United States scribbled her name onto the treaty.

"Philippines and Puerto Rico are already with me. We don't have anything to exchange, so why don't we just get this done with? There's no reason to wait. You clearly don't want to be here, and I have things I need to do," United States said. Spanish Empire scoffed.

"Chiquita, you'll make no friends acting like that. You'll waste your face like that," Spanish Empire said, taking the treaty and signing it with a glare. "You have torn apart my family. I hope you're happy with what you have achieved."

"Your family was already tearing itself apart. I just helped bring freedom," United States said, her eyes narrowing into a glare as a strange feeling was beginning to grow in her chest. Then, with the treaty signed, she took her copy and vanished, leaving the room.

She knew that the Spanish Empire was trying to get under her skin, and she hated that it worked.

She hated that she was affected by the same stupid insults.

When United States entered the house, the same weird tugging feeling in her chest had yet to fade, and she rubbed at it. It wasn't bad, just…weird.

Was this what happened when you acquired more land? With the new bonds being created with Philippines and Puerto Rico and…and Guam.

The island that they were going to separate from the Captaincy General of the Philippines to make it a separate territory for the navy and their Pacific travels.

United States seized that feeling in her chest and began to follow it, because if she were right, she…she had a kid now.

She hadn't even thought of the fact that separating that territory would…would make her a mother. Would give her a child.

She knew she was four years old, but she still felt like a newborn herself and…how was she meant to be a parent? If her father were here…he would be a great father. United States knew that from her siblings' stories, and even if she had some of his memories, that didn't mean she was fit to be a good parent.

When she arrived at the place the bond was leading her to, she paused as she saw a small girl there—a countryhuman.

United States closed her eyes. Guam had been born, and now United States was a mother.

She…she really didn't think that she wanted to be.

"Hello, Guam," United States said, walking over to her child. Even if she didn't want to be a mother, she was still a mother. Maybe her siblings could help her raise Guam like they had helped raise United States.

Guam turned to look at United States, and smiled brightly, and United States saw herself and her father in Guam's face, and something in her gut twisted a little bit. She didn't hate Guam, she didn't think that she could, but she knew as soon as it became public that she had a daughter, everyone would want her to become this domestic woman and…

United States didn't want that.

"Hi. Are you my mom?" Guam asked, and United States wanted to say no, and she wanted to insist that she was a sister, that Guam should have been her father's kid, but…

"Yes, I am," United States said, because she knew she couldn't say no, she knew that she couldn't reject her. "Come on, let's go home."

United States held out her hand and Guam took it, beaming up at United States as she brought them both to the home in the countryhumans world.

She couldn't wait to see what her siblings thought about this.

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The Stories of Puppets Chapter 2

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara was an old nation, and a proud one. He knew who he was, and, small as he was, he felt a steadiness in everything that he did.

The new France had changed that.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara hadn't expected what she brought with her, the humiliation and the control.

It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

One moment, he was talking (perhaps there was a bit of yelling too), but speaking with France, when his body locked up, mouth slamming shut so fast he bit his tongue, causing the taste of blood to fill his mouth, as his body just seemed to become limp.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara had initially thought that his inability had come from when he froze in terror at how quickly his body had betrayed him.

He quickly realized what it was.

His body was no longer his own. It was commanded by France; every breath he took, every action controlled entirely by her.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara had been through a lot in his long life, but nothing as terrifying as this.

It was worse, the first day, when he got a glimpse of his eyes in the mirror.

They were no longer the deep brown they had once been. Instead, they were now France's vivid amber, a color unnatural in his eyes.

It was another sign of her. Of how France had burrowed her way into Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara's veins and controlled his body as if it were her own.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara tried to fight it. The minute he realized what it was, he tried to fight it.

France had laughed when he had.

"Doll, it's okay. You're going to be just fine. You're hurting yourself. Relax and let me take care of everything," she had said, her tone gentle and mocking all the same. And…and his body had obeyed, relaxing against his will, silent and frozen and so horrifically still.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara hated France. He didn't like to say it often, knowing how complicated countryhuman relations could be, but he hated this new France.

Kin-killer, country murderer, and thief of the bodies of others.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara had never heard of this before, and he knew he would not have the ability to look into it, not with how France kept his mouth shut and only speaking when it was to praise her for her conquest and lust for blood.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara would not be surprised if she were some sort of demon, not the angel that countryhumans were supposed to be. How else could she wield such a demonic power?

He hated it. He had been stuck frozen for days after the first day she took control, before she came back and gave him a list of orders, leaving him trapped, following the same schedule day after day.

Sometimes, he managed to break free a little, move his fingers on his own, and yes, Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara knew that wasn't a lot, but it was something, and the sheer relief of knowing this was not permanent, that this could be fought off, well that was enough to give him hope and strength to keep fighting.

He had to keep fighting. He refused to just be taken.

He would not be taken.

But no matter how hard he tried, the blankness, the control, it always consumed him again. He couldn't fight it off. It always…it was too hard to shake.

Especially when France came back around, flaunting around like she owned everything within his land.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara might not have been the biggest fan of her mother, but he could see, clear as everyone else, that France's mother—the French Kingdom—might have been manipulative with her own mean streak, but nothing like the cruelty that France wielded, like how she treated everyone like a toy for her own amusement.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara had been witnesses to the new republics France created, which were under her control, like he was, born without the ability to express free will, born to be treated like toys.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara watched as she kept them around for a few months before discarding them. Even controlled, there was a small, if horrific, comfort in the fact that France had yet to dispose of him.

He was not blind to the fact that she still could at any moment.

Which is why he despised her visits, even when she tried to make him act like they were a good thing.

"Oh, Massa and Carrara, my dear, how are you?" France said, her language flowing off her tongue like poison, walking over to Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara with the wicked grin that he had learned to associate with her, a grin that meant more pain and cruelty.

"I am wonderful, my lady," his body answered, bowing against Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara's will, even as he fought, as he tried to make his mouth say anything else, even just frown a little to show that he didn't want this.

Nothing worked. Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara wanted to cry. But even that was being controlled by her.

"I can feel you in there," France then said, and Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara felt as if her eyes were staring right through him, staring right into the part of him that was still free, still gnashing his teeth and clawing back whatever control he could. "Stop fighting, little doll. You're only going to get hurt. You love me. I am helping you. What more could you want?"

"I want to be free!" Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara wished he could yell, "I want my body back, and I want my country back, and I want you gone and killed!"

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara's mouth didn't say that. Instead, it said something that just made the growing pain in his chest all the more worse.

"I could want nothing else, my lady. Thank you for all you have done for me," his mouth said, saying exactly what France wanted to hear, because she had ensured that it said that, that the only thing he could say anymore was praises of France and her democracies.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara couldn't even visit the human friends he once had. He saw how they looked at him now, with worry and fear, as every day confirmed that he was not himself, that there was someone else controlling everything.

He hated it.

He hated it all.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara tried to fight it off again, but France just tilted her head and smiled.

"You'll learn, Doll. You're already better than you were," she said, before beckoning Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara to follow her.

He did.

He didn't know what she meant.

He…maybe it was better if he never knew.

Duchy of Massa and Principality of Carrara's body was not his own. He didn't know if it would ever be again.

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There Be Dragons Chapter 5

Alba (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Alba had laughed when he received the letter from England.

He had laughed, not because the idea was impossible, but because it was the exact kind of stupid idea he had learned to expect from England.

The idea had merit, of course, they had all learned the pitfalls of being an island by now, but the idea that they could become one country, that they would all consent to a union, that was the part of the idea that was troubling.

Alba knew very well that they were all stubborn, and the idea of giving up any of their power would grate on all of them; they would push back and fight each other in order to keep the power that they thought they deserved. Not to mention the fights that would come out of figuring out a meeting, or a figurehead.

Smart, if it was meant to apply to anyone less stubborn and foolhardy than the bastards that made up their islands.

Alba knew them all well. They were uncooperative for fun. It was a good idea, but…well, Alba just wasn't sure that they would all agree.

It was something that was going to be proposed, and probably die in the meeting, if any of them even came at all. (They would probably have to. Diplomacy and all, but Alba was almost certain that someone was going to leave as soon as they could.

"What's that, Dad?" Isle of Man asked, walking over and draping herself over Alba. Alba's tail flicked, and he smiled.

"Letter from England," Alba said, grinning at his daughter. Isle of Man grinned back.

"Ah, and what does the man below us have to say? Is he causing problems?" Isle of Man asked. Alba shrugged.

"I think he's trying to fix some problems, but I think he's about to cause some more," Alba said, before laughing a little, "What do you think of a union between all of the countries of our isles?"

Isle of Man barked out a surprised laugh.

"You'll kill each other before you get anything done," Isle of Man said, and Alba nodded, knowing that she had a point.

"He's worried about our colonies and ability to stand up to countries like Spain and France. He thinks unity might be the solution to that, to create a better situation for our colonies and us. You know just as well as I do how intense the fighting for them is," Alba said, thinking of his other daughter. And…his other ambitions.

"Nova Scotia is a lot more stable than most of the colonies that nations here have," Isle of Man pointed out. Alba sighed.

"And we're still dealing with money issues. And the French. I know she's stable, but that can change. Change a lot faster than we want it to," Alba said, because that was a worry, a worry he had struggled with for a while. Maybe France and him were not at war, but…there was the chance that she could decide to attack Nova Scotia out of a desire for her land, and Alba would lose her, in one way or another.

It was times like this that he hated their immortality.

It was oh-so conditional.

"You're thinking about it."

"It could work."

"But would you lose more than you gain?" Isle of Man asked, crossing her arms and locking eyes with Alba. Alba sighed.

"I wouldn't accept that. England didn't explain plans, just the idea, which is a good thing. It means he is probably waiting for all of us before any discussion of what it would look like is going to happen. That proves that he at least had some sort of care in making sure that we are all heard," Alba said. Isle of Man gave her own sigh in return.

"Or he has ideas but isn't sharing them yet," Isle of Man said. Alba nodded.

"He probably does. I know I am already getting some ideas as well. That's why we need a meeting. To figure out what we all want and how to make it happen in the best way possible. Besides, I think…I think this could be the best way to get Nova Scotia more security and stability that ensures that she is safe," Alba said, because he wanted to think of his daughter, he wanted to ensure that she would live a long and happy life, and most importantly, he did not want her to die.

If she were taken, that was okay, because she would at least be alive, and Alba could bear the pain of losing her that way, knowing that maybe it could be reversed.

But death was irreversible. And if there was one thing that humans and countryhumans had in common, it was their desire to prevent their own deaths, and ensure that they would never die…early at least.

They didn't want to die. And perhaps for immortals like him, the thought of death was all the more terrifying.

"You really want to do this, huh?" Isle of Man asked. Alba shrugged.

"It's not something that is definitely going to happen. Just something that might happen. I want to see where it goes, and what the others think about it," Alba said, the expression more neutral than he felt

Oh, he knew why his daughter worried, and he worried as well, but…this could be a good start to a better future.

Alba had guarded his southern border for a long time. It was something that had been done before he or England were even a thought in someone's mind, back during the Roman times, when the idea was to separate the north and the south.

Maybe it was finally time to bring that tradition to an end, focus more on peace and cooperation, not mistrust and suspicion.

The fewer people he had to fight, the better Alba would be. He knew that. It was a simple concept.

This could turn three sometime enemies into firm allies.

So, of course, Alba went to that meeting.

He had hope, however stupid it might be.

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A Civil Disagreement Chapter 34

Rioting in New York (Wattpad | Ao3)

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July 14, 1863

If there was anything that was never comforting, it was getting a telegram from your biggest city in the middle of a war when you asked not to be bothered with messages that were not important.

Reading the telegram just made everything worse, and a sinking feeling began to grow in New York's stomach.

RIOTS IN NEW YORK CITY. THE CITY IS IN CHAOS. THE MILITIA IS NOT HERE, AND THE POLICE ARE UNABLE TO CONTROL EVERYTHING. PLEASE WRITE BACK WITH A CONDEMNATION SO WE CAN CALM THE RIOTERS.

It was everything that he didn't want to read, not after everything.

Sure, they had reached a turning point in the war, with the capture of Vicksburg and the rebel defeat at Gettysburg, but that meant that the last thing that any of them wanted was bad news.

New York didn't have any of his siblings nearby, all off in different armies, leaving him alone in this anger and confusion.

They were already dealing with betrayal from siblings and all of the horrific things that came with this war, and now you meant to tell New York that his own people were rioting and…and making him appear to be disloyal?

He hated it.

He hated it so much. He was loyal to his father and didn't want this conflict, didn't want this to be how things were remembered, and…

This was the worst news to come off the back of two amazing victories that had given them a well-needed moral boost.

What if father or some of the others thought that this meant he was a traitor? Or that he didn't support the fight and the reunification of their nation.

What if this meant that he would go under martial law, like Missouri and the new Virginia and Maryland and Delaware, and God, he was loyal and he wanted them to know that, but…this war was taking so much from them, and he didn't want it to take his mind as well.

He didn't want to lose that.

It was bad enough, watching his letters with Delaware become stilted and different as a new force overtook him, hearing how Delaware hadn't fought because he didn't want to be hurt by his family, even the disloyal ones, and needing to fight anyway.

Being forced to fight. His mind was taken, and it left Delaware a shadow of himself.

He wished there was someone here that he could talk to about this, but the humans wouldn't understand, and wasn't that the worst thing?

Father was not doing great. He had been struggling with the new ones and the weight of having his being ripped in two. He had changed a lot, wasn't the dad that New York knew from his youth, but he had watched his dad change a lot, and this was just the latest in a long string of changes.

Somehow, this change was hurting them all the most, but that might be the circumstances of the war.

Either way, Father was different now, and New York worried about what that would mean for…for his father and for him and for this entire situation.

New York…this was bad. He was angry about the riots, angry that they were upset about the drafts when they wouldn't even be happening if the fucking South hadn't rebelled in the first place.

They had started all of this, and so many of the innocent ones, the border states, and the false ones were going to suffer from this.

New York had not wanted this war to start, but like Hell were he and Father the ones to blame for this.

They had not started this. They were just trying to end things before the South doomed them all.

New York, he…he needed to write a letter to Father. To tell him that New York condemned the entire riot, that he didn't support it, that he was loyal, forever loyal, and wasn't going to let these riots affect anything.

New York was a loyal state. These riots were awful, and he hated them. Father would see that.

He had to. Father was a good man.

Even this war hadn't changed that.

• ───────────────── •

July 14, 1863

Dear Father,

I am sure that you have heard by now of the horrific riots in New York City and how the rioters mean to undermine you, the war effort, and our ultimate goal of reuniting our family from this perilous time, and all of the tragedy that the rebels have inflicted on us.

I have just been made aware of the riots and have already responded with my swift condemnation. I do not care about their reasoning for causing this additional burst of violence and strife, and I want to see it ended. The most important thing that our country can be is unified, and whatever these riots are about, I do not care.

I am forever loyal to you, Father, and everything that this war is about. I will fight and die for this cause, and I will not be swayed by the whims of these rioters. They are nasty and treasonous, and care not for them. I will gladly see them all imprisoned and put down the riots myself, if my division is commanded to.

I beg of you, regardless of how these riots go, that I am not placed under martial law. I can be trusted to be loyal and will continue to be. These riots do not affect anything, I promise. I am not going to join them, and I trust my police and other law enforcement officers to bring the rioters under control and ensure they are punished.

This is happening despite me, not because of me, and I hope that you know that.

I love you, Father, and I am sending you my love, my support, and my warmest affections. You are the most important person in my life, and that will never change, no matter what happens in my land. I am a loyal Union state, and I will fight in this war until the end.

Your loyal and loving son,

New York

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The Stories of Puppets Table of Contents

Rauracian Republic

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The Stories of Puppets Chapter 1

Rauracian Republic (Wattpad | Ao3)

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The Rauracian Republic didn't move as Mother ran her hand across her face, opening her mouth and looking at her teeth.

The Rauracian Republic didn't move as her arms were lifted and her body inspected.

The Rauracian Republic didn't move. She couldn't. The Rauracian Republic was a consciousness inside a body that belonged completely to Mother.

"You're mine, right?" Mother asked. The Rauracian Republic nodded, her movements mechanical and stiff.

"Yes, Mother, I belong to you," the Rauracian Republic said, because those words had to be true, because they were all that she had ever known in her short hours of life.

She was the Rauracian Republic, and she belonged to France. There was nothing else to know, nothing else that was important.

Just that, the guiding truth.

She had had some thoughts of dissent, that there was something wrong with Mother being here, but the fact that she could not move or speak without Mother's guidance and approval told her everything that she needed to know.

"Mother?" Mother asked. The Rauracian Republic wanted to nod, or agree, or explain, but her body remained locked away, and she waited. Waited to get permission to explain.

She didn't try to fight the control that Mother had over her body. It was…it was right, and fighting it would be wrong.

She had been made this way, with her body locked away, so surely it must be right to stay this way, not to try to fight it.

"No, I don't want to be a mother. You're going to be my friend and help me," Mother said, and the Rauracian Republic's head nodded in acknowledgment as Mother had ordered her to do so the first time they met, as a way to signify that the Rauracian Republic was listening.

But deep inside, the Rauracian Republic was…she was upset. She had…she had wanted…she had thought Mother was going to be her mother, because Mother had already ensured that the Rauracian Republic knew that her father was bad, and that the Rauracian Republic should never think of disobeying Mother for him.

The Rauracian Republic wanted to ask Mother to change her mind, to let the Rauracian Republic prove that she could be a good daughter, but Mother told her to smile and thank Mother for being her friend, and the Rauracian Republic did so.

Maybe…maybe it was wrong to want what Mother didn't want. The Rauracian Republic was made for Mother, could not disobey her, so…was thinking differently wrong?

"Follow me, Rauracian," Mot—France said, walking away with quick steps, as the Rauracian Republic obediently followed.

At least with her mind confused about what was right, her body knew what to do and obeyed France's commands. There was a peace in not needing to think, it told things happen as they just…existed, along for the ride in something that was…was peaceful.

At least, the Rauracian Republic hoped it was peaceful. She didn't really know much else, didn't know if anyone else would think this was horrible, but she…she was okay with it, which meant her people had to be.

After all, France was helping them, so they had to like France. France was good. France was bringing peace and freedom.

France had told the Rauracian Republic those things shortly after she had been born, when France first saw her and realized what the Rauracian Republic was.

The Rauracian Republic still remembered the look in France's eyes when she realized that the Rauracian Republic was for her, that she would always do as her mother and creator commanded, that it was her duty and her purpose, and surely the reason that God had put her on this earth.

The Rauracian Republic had the same flag as her mother, the same patterns on her hands and arms that she had seen when France pulled her arms up to look at them.

The Rauracian Republic didn't know what she looked like, but she hoped she looked like France, more proof that they would always be linked.

As France led the Rauracian Republic somewhere, they were stopped by a soldier, and the Rauracian Republic stood dutifully by France as they conversed.

"Where are you going with her?" the soldier asked. France scoffed.

"Can't you see the flag? It's mine, and I am going to take it home," France said, and the Rauracian Republic wished she could nod in agreement.

"France—"

"It listens to me. It doesn't think!" France said, her voice sharp, before crossing her arms and looking at the Rauracian Republic, eyes seeming to cut right through her. "Jump."

The Rauracian Republic jumped.

"Hit your face," France ordered, and the Rauracian Republic did it. There was a weird feeling growing in her chest at this, but she…she knew why France was doing this. She was trying to prove a point, so it had to be okay.

And…and the Rauracian Republic didn't have a way to control her body, so…it was okay that France was doing this. It was what she needed to do. She had been given control over the Rauracian Republic, so the Rauracian Republic had to accept it.

"France—" the soldier said, and France turned back towards him, eyes blazing.

"No real countryhuman would act like this, you see it just as well as I do. This one is mine. It was created for me. Do you really think that a country that can't speak or move without me telling it to can survive without me?" France said, and the soldier looked away.

"I am sorry. I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong. You aren't one of us. You don't know how we work. Clearly, this is a less-advanced colony, a personification made for me to a degree that it can't think. It's mine, and I can do what I want with it. I don't need your permission," France said, before turning on her heel to march away, angrily ordering the Rauracian Republic to follow her.

The Rauracian Republic did.

It was what she was made for, what she did.

Unquestioning, silent, absolute obedience was what the Rauracian Republic did. It was what she had been made for.

Even…even if France didn't talk about the Rauracian Republic in a way that she liked, there was nothing that she could do to fight it.

The Rauracian Republic was France's.

That was the one thing that she knew to be true.

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There Be Dragons Chapter 4

Éire (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Now Éire would never say he hated his neighbors. They were annoyed, they had invaded him more than once, and they had their own ideas, but he didn't hate them.

There were more important things to focus on than the matters of those across the sea. They were linked by the fact that they shared an island chain, sure, but that was where the similarities between Éire and the others ended.

There were three on that island, and many more underlings, smaller personifications. Éire remembered what that was like, when he had once been the High Kings of Éire and had looked after his family, even as borders changed, new countries rose, and old ones fell.

And…unification had ended that. His family and friends gave up their lives for him.

It had hurt. Éire knew they had wanted it, knew they needed the strength of proper unification, but it had hurt so badly to see them all go, and know it was his fault, regardless of what was said.

It had caused him to pull back. Not from everything, he still had a job to do, and he was going to do it well, but…it hurt, being close to strangers again and being reminded of that pain.

He knew it was not the best way to handle his feelings, but damn was he tired of being told that the unification was a good thing, that it was a good thing that his family had all died for him, and left him floundering.

The only solace he had was Éire Nua, stronger than many of her neighboring colonies, and yet Éire still flinched every time she was close to being hurt.

His daughter was precious, the only family he had left, and like hell was Éire going to do anything to risk her life and her health.

So when he had gotten the invitation from England, Éire had laughed.

A union with the three idiots from across the sea? Did they really think that Éire was close enough to them to be a part of it? Did they really think that he was one of them?

He was just the lonely isle, the one that had been the last to unify and had been involved in their histories, sure, but always more of a footnote than anything else. The Catholic one, the one that rejected the Protestant teachings they had all embraced.

This…this did offer him a chance to be more involved, sure, but was that actually a good thing? How did he know that that would help him, instead of leading to him giving up his own autonomy and becoming subjugated in another way?

He remembered when he was the High Kings of Éire, how he was discontent with some countries, how he never had a lot of true power sometimes, because they all had their own independence, and despite the fact that he was something, he wasn't anything with power.

Would this union end up the same way? No power and simply just a title that they would all fight for, causing more issues than any union could even solve.

And if the union were not like this, if this union did have power, how would Éire be made to operate under that? Would he lose his power? Would the will of the other three on their island control the voice and direction of the union? Would Éire be able to leave if that did happen, to preserve his own independence, even if that came without the benefit of being allowed with his neighbors?

He knew why they were turning to this; he knew where the hope and the idea came from.

And maybe it was because of how new his unification was, maybe it was how he had just seen his family die because of him, because of their want for his unification not too long ago, but Éire was worried that this was not going to end up being something that helped any of them.

That this was just going to be something that hurt them all the more strongly.

Éire…he wanted to preserve himself, preserve Éire Nua, preserve his religion, and he knew the risks and dangers and the struggles that were faced, sometimes, being an island kingdom.

He knew them because he had been facing them his entire life. He didn't mind them, and he knew he could fight, could hold his ground and maybe lose some things, and maybe gain others, and…maybe without this union, he would be weaker.

Weaker to other empires, and weaker to his neighbors.

But there was always a cost.

Éire didn't want to pay it.

But…he didn't deny that the idea was enticing. That it stuck in his mind more than it should.

Perhaps that was why he decided to go to the meeting England proposed, one to see interest and to talk about how it would work. While he had many ideas about how it would all go wrong and hurt them all, it wouldn't hurt to hear what England had to say.

Nor take advantage of everything to propose some ideas of his own, ensuring that he had a voice.

And if his voice was ignored in that meeting, well, at least it would help Éire make a choice, show him what it would be like to subjugate himself to more of this is the future.

Éire trusted Cymru and Alba; they were family, distant, but family, and he knew England was as well, but England was the outsider, and the only thing that Éire felt really connected him with England was their shared history with the Vikings.

Even then…

Well, Éire was going to be going; he needed to at least see where everyone stood on this, especially those who were not England. He didn't really think that England was trying to create a way for him to control them; he was a bit too…kind for that, but Éire also knew that he could put nothing past their kind, not with how…inhuman they were at times.

Maybe it wasn't a foolish idea, but they had just as much to lose to this as they did to gain. And wasn't that just the most dangerous part?

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There Be Dragons Table of Contents

The Isles of Europe

An Idea of Unity | England

Cymru

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A Civil Disagreement Chapter 33

Vicksburg Falls (Wattpad | Ao3)

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July 4, 1863

It felt like a sign of good fortune that the rebels were surrendering on the 4th of July. Of course, Missouri was not blind to the fact that they were doing it to try to gain sympathy from Missouri and General Grant, but it was nice to see that they were surrendering, that they were finally dividing the rebel lands into two and seizing full control over the Mississippi River.

It was also going to allow them to capture the false Missouri that had been created in order to enforce the rebels' claims over his land. While General Grant had considered pardoning the rebel prisoners in order to keep the army from needing to take care of them and allowing them to be free for the fight, the false Missouri would not be allowed free.

She was going to be sent away.

It was sad, almost, how they had created a child that would only die. Missouri would feel bad if it weren't a rebel land, a personification created to kill him.

There is no need to feel sympathy for the rebels. They want you dead. They created a replacement.

Especially after what had been done to Michigan, Missouri had no intention of being sympathetic. He wished that they did take them as prisoners, that they did punish them for rebelling.

But they would be allowed to get away with everything, and that made him furious.

They forced Missouri to amputate his brother's wing.

He would never forgive them. Never forgive Mississippi.

Missouri knew that as soon as the surrender was over, he would take custody of the false Missouri and bring her to the prison.

He was the best person to control another countryhuman, and he was steadfastly loyal, and would never be swayed by anything she said.

He was a good state and knew he would obey.

As the surrender proceeded, Missouri did not take his eyes away from his young rebel counterpart, ensuring she did not try to leave or free. It was hard to focus on anything else about the surrender when his orders to watch the rebel one seemed to consume him.

He would not let her escape. She needed to face punishment and dissolution, to protect him and his father's country. His country.

He was not dooming her to death. The rebels had done that when they created her, rather than accepting Missouri's decision to side with his father and ensure he could never be disloyal.

When the surrender was completed, the false Missouri was grabbed and her hands tied, before she was given to Missouri, who grabbed her shoulder and began to march her to the temporary prison where she would be kept.

"You're the other Missouri, right?" the false Missouri asked. Missouri nodded stiffly.

"I am the actual Missouri, yes. I am not an 'other'. You are a false version meant to kill me, and I am the real one," Missouri said, his voice firm and showing no emotions. He could not bring it in himself to care about this sacrificial lamb and whatever ideas she had about him and this situation.

"You…I wasn't made to kill you. I am supposed to help you and free you, and then we can live together. You can help me, and we can escape," the false Missouri said. Missouri scoffed.

"There are never two personifications for one land. As soon as you were created, it meant that if the rebels won, you would kill me. I have no intention of helping my murderer or a rebel. You are going to prison, where you belong, where you will not be able to kill anyone," Missouri said, his voice turning harsher.

He was not interested in entertaining the delusions of a murderer, someone who killed and either didn't understand that, or thought Missouri was an easily convinced fool.

Even if he hadn't decided on martial law to ensure his loyalty, he would never have sided with her, not with everything that she represented.

"No, I am supposed to save you, and we can exist together!" the false one said, and Missouri tightened his grip on her shoulder, digging his fingers into her shoulder.

"I am not interested in becoming a rebel. I am a good state," Missouri said, "And you should shut your mouth. You are a prisoner. You have no rights here."

The rebel one winced in pain and shut her mouth.

Missouri was glad.

• ───────────────── •

July 7, 1863

Massachusetts squeezed his hands, trying to calm his anxiety as Father paced around the room.

"Both of you are going to get kicked out by the doctors if you don't calm down now," Vermont commented weakly from the hospital bed. He had been shot in the stomach on the final day of the Battle of Gettysburg and had been barely alive when he was brought in.

It was a miracle that he was awake.

He was much better now, and his wound had not become infected, but he was not going to fight for a long time, if he even was ready to fight before the war ended at all.

But he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Maybe it was a mercy that he would not be able to fight at all, free of the obligations of the war like Delaware had been.

Before…well, Massachusetts was trying not to think about that. It hurt too much.

Though Vermont wasn't exactly the injured person that Massachusetts was worrying about right now.

Pennsylvania's arm had been amputated already after she was first injured, but it had become infected with gangrene, and she needed to get the infected part amputated again. It had caused them all worry, with all the things that could go wrong, and how it seemed that they might be trapped in a cycle.

What made it all the more worse was the fact that General Meade had not pursued Lee and the rebels, so it left Massachusetts with an injured daughter and brother and a victory that was only half complete.

What if they could have ended things?

Now, more people could be injured.

He hated it.

"I know. I am just…we're worried," Father said…at least Massachusetts was pretty sure it was Father.

"I know. I am too. But Penny's strong. She's going to be okay," Vermont said. Massachusetts sighed.

"I know, but…amputation. And not one, but two. It's awful," he said, his voice tired and defeated.

"Yeah. I know. I wish this war were over already," Father said. Massachusetts nodded, standing up and striding over to his father to pull him into a hug.

It helped a little.

He was still worried.

They had forced the rebels out of Pennsylvania. They had taken the Mississippi River.

And yet, nothing was over.

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When the Fire’s Extinguished Chapter 24

A Mess of Emotions (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Cuba appreciated the United States' help. He really did. He knew he was an upstart colony, and having a country on his side was helpful; it gave legitimacy and supplies he couldn't get otherwise.

He did appreciate everything that she was trying to do, just as much as he gritted his teeth at everything else the United States was trying to do.

There was something awful about how he had to keep his mouth shut to avoid pissing her off, to avoid losing the support that was ending this war a lot quicker than he could alone, but he was not a fool or an idiot.

He knew what was happening behind the scenes, the things they tried to hide from him.

Florida was his brother, and Cuba loved him, but it was clear he had been changed, as he had been in his years with Britain, changed until he was still the brother that Cuba loved, but with thoughts and ideas he had never had before.

Thoughts that sort of felt like they were fed to Florida, instead of him coming to those conclusions on his own.

And…it was that, combined with how Florida seemed to speak loosely around Cuba, told Cuba things that he really shouldn't be, that was for the ears of the United States' states, not for him.

It was then that Cuba learned what United States had planned for Puerto Rico, and Philippines, and…and Cuba was angry.

Philippines was fighting for his independence and deserved it, and United States was supposed to be helping him. Puerto Rico had also been considering independence, and yet it seemed (from the limited information he had) that Cuba was going to be the only one to get his independence.

He had tried to learn more, but there was a frostiness to the United States' soldiers, as if they knew something too, and were hiding it.

Cuba wouldn't deny that he felt bad for the girl, being the replacement for someone who loomed so large, having lost so much so quickly, not to mention a woman who replaced a man and clearly being hated for it, but…if this were true, that was no excuse. Even if she were a replacement, a new countryhuman typically meant a new start, and if this were the path she was going down, the same as before…well, Cuba couldn't see her being well-liked.

Rumors and hearsay and the rambling of a brother who struggled to keep his mouth shut sometimes were not definitive proof, and while Cuba was sure the United States' newspapers might have information, he had his own things to deal with.

And…he wanted to see if she would confess.

"United States," Cuba said in English, walking up to her, mid-conversation with one of her states. She paused and looked over at him with a smile that was both forced and practiced. It was clear that something had weighed on her enough to change her.

Cuba knew that feeling well. His independence was supposed to be a chance to never feel that again, a chance to be free of the crushing weight of someone else.

United States had promised she was fighting for freedom from tyranny. But what did that mean to someone who seemed to be on the path of becoming a tyrant herself?

Cuba didn't know. He wanted to.

"Yes? What is it?" United States said, responding back in her own language. Cuba hoped that his starting the conversation in her language would be enough to placate any feathers he would ruffle. If she were betraying everyone she had fought beside and her ideals of being against tyrants, she deserved to have her feathers ruffled, but Cuba had also been a colony long enough to know how to placate empires, to say the right things to calm them into complicity.

He didn't like to mold himself for them, but survival was more important than pride.

"May I speak with you in private? I have something I would like to ask you about," Cuba said, keeping his voice calm and professional.

The state looked worried and had a quick conversation with United States, clearly worried about her. It made sense, given how her father died, but Cuba still shifted a little, waiting for her to finish it up.

When she was done, she nodded with a smile, and they walked over to a quieter part of the camp.

"What is it?" she asked as they arrived. Cuba looked around to make sure no one was nearby before speaking.

"I thought you were here to help me and Philippines get our independence, and possibly Puerto Rico as well. So why am I hearing of you planning to annex my brothers and only give me independence?" Cuba asked. United States blinked, looking slightly panicked and caught off guard, before composing herself.

"Some nations just aren't ready for independence. You are, so surely you can see that your brothers need some help, just from a more civilized land than Spain," United States said, sounding both confident and uncertain. Her wording was interesting, too.

Most countries would emphasize that it was they helping, that there was something special and great about them that made them able to do this. She didn't do that. She talked about her land as if she were not it.

It was interesting.

It was almost interesting enough to make him forget how angry he was, how his wings were puffing up and spreading out, even as he tried to keep them closed against his back.

"Aren't ready?" Cuba asked, his voice becoming tense. "You do realize that Spain and Spanish Empire loved to say that same thing. What gives you the right to tell us that? To make that choice?"

"I…" United States didn't seem like she had an answer for that, her voice trailing off, before she cleared her throat and tried to compose herself. "My country has experience helping to civilize people. The old Hawaii was a killer, but her son is a good man."

Cuba shook his head with a sigh. He wasn't sure what was worse. Her doing this to him, or her not knowing why.

"You should be careful who you listen to. You're young enough to be manipulated," Cuba said, before turning to leave, fingers itching.

He had to tell Puerto Rico and Philippines.

They deserve to know.

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There Be Dragons Chapter 3

Cymru (Wattpad | Ao3)

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Cymru hadn't answered England's letter right away. He had other concerns, and Maldwyn was doing his best to be a pain in Cymru's ass, so the letter had fallen by the wayside.

When Cymru finally got a chance to open it, he sighed. England really needed to work on picking one language to write its letters in. It was nice that he was committed to his trilingual nation, but for official correspondence, it was annoying, if not the least bit endearing.

England had been a cute kid. Cymru remembered that from when he was Gwynedd, before he and his side of the island had unified.

Cymru opened the letter, and his eyebrows raised in interest as he read it.

Well, wasn't that an interesting proposal?

Uniting their own countries had been hard enough, though Alba had never had to deal with that as badly as the rest of them, being one of the first to unify, but Cymru was old enough to remember the time before, how their various unifications had been staggered and so very different.

This was a different kind, of course, a joint crown as opposed to a new force consuming them whole, but it was still… politically complicated. Cymru had his own worries, especially about his autonomy in this.

He was the smallest of them, unless you counted Kernow, who occupied a place of autonomy and privilege in England's kingdom, and Cymru was not blind to the way that his side made it easier to walk over him, especially when compared to the stronger and brasher personalities of Éire and Alba.

England promised that he wanted something even, but it is easier to say that than actually mean it, especially if England was the one organizing it.

Cymru would need to get together Sir Fynwy, Morgannwg, Sir Benfro, Brycheiniog, and Maldwyn about this offer and get their thoughts on this offer. They were kingdoms once before, and they all had their own perspectives on how to navigate things.

But…Cymru was not blind himself to the benefits that this could offer.

Just like how being the smallest made him…not weaker, per se, but more easily perceived as such, this could offer him more political backing and strength that could help him avoid getting attacked or beaten in fights. Not to mention, not having to worry about his only land border would be a massive relief.

Sea invasions could sometimes be easier to handle, provided you spot them in time. And…recently, it had not been England who had been worrying Cymru, as they had been enjoying many pleasant years of peace.

No, Cymru had people outside of the isle that he was worried about fighting. It was they who were proving the greatest threat, not just to him, but to his family.

Cymru Newydd was not doing well. He hadn't been for a while. He was weak, he was sick, and the Spanish were encroaching on his land, and Cymru worried for him.

He…he had never been a father before. Cymru Newydd was his first child, and Cymru loved him enough to know that losing him would break him.

Maybe, with this, he could have the strength to stand firm against the Spanish. Maybe, with this, he could give his son what he needed to survive.

England, Éire, and Alba were all fathers as well. They knew the love a father had for his child, and they would know the pain and the fear.

Cymru knew that if this happened, it could make them help.

Cymru picked up the letter and walked towards his son's room, knocking on the door.

"Rhys?" Cymru called, not wanting to disturb his son.

"Come in," Cymru Newydd called, and the weakness of his voice had Cymru's heart tightening. It had sounded like that for so long, but it always worried him.

Cymru walked in to see his son curled up in his bed, blanket pulled over him, but wings sticking out anyway.

Cymru began purring, both to soothe his son and himself, and Cymru Newydd looked up, and responded with a little smile and a purr of his own.

"How are you feeling?" Cymru asked as he sat down next to his son, letting him sit up and curl up into Cymru's side.

He felt too cold.

Cymru pulled him just a little bit closer.

"Better. The pain isn't as bad today. I'm just cold," Cymru Newydd said, and Cymru wrapped his larger wings around his son. He didn't regulate heat well at all, either, but he would gladly give up his warmth if it helped his son a little bit more.

"Does this help?" Cymru asked, his voice soft. Cymru Newydd nodded, burrowing himself closer into his father's side, and nodded. Cymru's worried expression relaxed somewhat, seeing his son so content and relaxed.

It helped take his mind from the worry over his son's mortality. Because maybe he was sick and weak, but he was still very much alive, and Cymru would fight to keep him that way.

"Rhys," Cymru then said again, because the reason why he was so seriously considering England's idea was because it could help save Cymru Newydd, so it was Cymru Newydd that he wanted to tell about it first.

"Hm? Yeah, Dad?" Cymru Newydd asked, turning his head to look up at Cymru.

"I got a letter from England today. He has this idea, a way to strengthen me, him, Alba, and Éire. He thinks we should create some sort of union, like Castile and Aragon, and use that to gain some more strength and political power," Cymru said. Cymru Newydd blinked before his expression pinched a little, like he was thinking hard over everything that meant.

"Are…are you considering it?" Cymru Newydd asked. Cymru nodded once.

"It could give me the strength needed to save you. I can't—" Cymru's voice broke, and tears appeared in the corners of his eyes, which he was quick to wipe away with his free hand. "I don't want to lose you. I…there are other benefits to this, but the one that I think of most strongly is the idea of you, hundreds of years in the future, healthy and strong. I want that for you."

"I…you think so?" Cymru Newydd asked, a cautious hope in his voice, a hope that Cymru had not heard from his son in a while, not since they began to fear that the only thing that lay in his future was death.

"I do. I am going to go to his meeting, and I am going to work this out. I am going to save you, Rhys. I swear on my life," Cymru said, pressing his head to his son's. Cymru Newydd nodded, and Cymru heard some small sniffles.

"Thank you, Dad," Cymru Newydd said. Cymru just purred in response.

He was going to create a better future for them. He just had to.

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A Civil Disagreement Chapter 32

Resounding Victory (Wattpad | Ao3)

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July 1, 1863

Alabama couldn't believe they had made it this far into the Union. They had blown past their prior record of only reaching Maryland and were now in Pennsylvania.

It was the chance they had been looking for to threaten the Federals and force them to end the war. It was the proof that they were a threat to his dad's country, that they weren't just going to be invaded time and time again, until they broke.

Alabama knew about the battles to the West, and how they were not going well for his son, but…if they could make themselves a big enough threat, they could force the Union to sue for peace, and then it wouldn't matter if they were losing out west, because they would have ended things.

Alabama wasn't blind to how much hinged on an uncertain bet, but he had to believe in this, believe in this chance in victory.

General Lee was a good man and a good general, and Alabama trusted him.

He wished things hadn't ended this way, he really did, but they had ended this way, and now…well, Alabama wasn't going to let himself feel guilty about the way things were ending, because they had invaded his country, his siblings first, and had started the damn war to begin with.

This was their aggression being paid back, nothing more, nothing less.

They were outside the town of Gettysburg now, which had been fortified by the Federals, who were on many of the ridges near the town, offering a place for them to push Alabama and his unit back, a position to hold.

Which is why it was so important to dislodge them from the high ground and from their positions, make them retreat, and secure the victory—or at least one of the victories—that they needed.

Alabama's bridge was making its way around one of the Federal positions to the north of the town. It was just after midday, and they had no advantage of darkness, though thankfully that didn't seem to matter as they reached their positions and prepared for the assault.

And once it began, it was the same mix of success and devastation that the war seemed to bring.

They were pushing back the Federals, yes, they were forcing them further and further back, while at the same time taking losses that they didn't have the time to mourn.

They were winning, but the cost was too high. It was always too high.

Alabama wished this war had not been started.

Maybe this battle would finally make him see sense.

One could only hope.

Alabama gritted his teeth and worked harder to push them back.

• ───────────────── •

July 2, 1863

There was something almost poetic about bringing death to a place meant to create life.

It was not the first time a farm turned into a battlefield, and it would not be the last, but it…it meant something, every time Massachusetts was a part of another battle at a field.

The day had been bloody, and their line had collapsed and been pushed back.

Massachusetts was beginning to prepare to cook dinner for the day, trying so hard to forget the memories that haunted him, when a messenger ran up to him, and Massachusetts shot to attention.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice stern but not unkind.

"Pennsylvania has been injured. The United States wanted me to inform all the states," the messenger said, and Massachusetts tensed immediately.

"Where is she?" he said.

"Pennsylvania Hall," the messenger said, "I need to go tell the others."

Massachusetts nodded sharply.

"Tell them," Massachusetts said, before running to the college, breathing heavy as he moved as quickly as his legs could carry him.

His daughter was injured. His mind was racing with worst-case scenarios, seeing his daughter's face on every mutilated corpse he had seen throughout the war, and he wanted nothing more than to…

"Dear Lord," Massachusetts muttered under his breath, "please look after her and care for her, and offer her strength in this time of need. Do not take her away from me. Please show mercy and let her live. It does not matter the state, I just wish for her to be alive. Amen."

It wasn't a good prayer, but it was one made of desperation and fear, and he knew God would listen. He would offer better prayers later.

It was times like this that he felt unsteady with his new faith and the ceremony that came with it, but if there was one thing he did know, it was that God was kind, and that He had made countryhumans, and would look after them.

When Massachusetts arrived at the college, he was swiftly guided past rows of bleeding and broken men until he saw Pennsylvania, eyes half lidded and arm—oh god, her arm.

It was…it was gone.

"Pennsylvania, mein liebling, are you—" Massachusetts cut himself off, silently cursing the rebels who had invaded her state and injured her in this way. Pennsylvania's eyes opened, and she smiled weakly.

Massachusetts wondered if she should even be awake.

"Hi…hi, Dad," Pennsylvania said, and Massachusetts took her remaining hand, holding it in his as he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, muttering things to himself and her, trying to bring some degree of comfort

"God, Penny," Massachusetts eventually ended with.

It was not the first or last time someone in this war would lose an arm.

Somehow, this was the worst.

First Michigan and now her.

What was the South doing to them?

Massachusetts wanted to still love them, but this all made it so much harder.

Massachusetts pressed a kiss to his daughter's hand.

• ───────────────── •

July 3, 1863

Taking the high ground was always the bloodiest and most important part of every battle.

It was why General Pickett had organized this charge, why Virginia was storming up this hill despite the heavy losses, because they needed this victory. She didn't want to be invaded again. She wanted to teach her father a lesson.

She wanted a lot of this, and if they lost, it would not only give the Union a moral boost they couldn't risk giving them, but it would send them back into Virginia's land to lick her wounds, leaving Maryland alone to be controlled.

It was…Virginia didn't want it to end like this.

So they pushed forward, higher and higher up the hill, even as death and devastation were rained down upon them, even as the Union line held strong, only wavering slightly.

As they got closer to the top of the hill, the gunfire slowed, and the fight changed.

It was like Bunker Hill, only this time, Virginia was the one attacking as the fight turned into a melee one, bayonets and rifle butts acting as their weapon as they fought each other to the bloody pulp, in a way that was far more personal and horrific than the fighting of before, when they fired from a distance.

It was personal.

Virginia could also feel herself being targeted, her flag showing proudly, prompting firm anger from the Federals, who saw her and targeted her, with anger in their eyes.

She knew why. She knew to them, she was a traitor, one of the world, the Old Dominion that was beloved by so many leaving.

She knew why.

She hated the focus anyway. She hated how it pushed her back as she tried to avoid getting wounded or killed—because that would most likely lead to her being captured, and…and they had already lost Mississippi, and with the nation sharing her heart…

Virginia would not be captured.

She was going to fight.

Even if it seemed like they were not going to win.

She at least had to make this cost them.

But oh, what a futile thing it was.

• ───────────────── •

Delaware had been summoned as soon as the fog had overtaken his mind. He didn't resist. The thought didn't even cross his mind. The stubbornness and tenacity that all knew him for was softening, becoming manageable, something controllable.

Of course, Delaware wasn't aware of that. The same fog that was softening his mind was blocking him from being fully aware of it, keeping him in a state that felt natural, cutting off any attempts to realize something was wrong.

Delaware didn't realize anything was different. He just thought he had been given a new perspective.

"Delaware, it is good to see you," General Robert Schneck said, holding out a hand. Delaware took it, shaking it with a small smile.

He hadn't liked the military before, mistrusted them, but those doubts and worries had faded, and Delaware couldn't even think about why he had them in the first place.

"It's good to see you, too," Delaware responded. "Why did you need to speak with me?"

"There has been suspicion that you are a traitor, and I am here to put these rumors to rest and ensure that you are a loyal citizen of the nation, and everyone knows it," General Schneck said. Delaware nodded. It made perfect sense. He was the only state not to fight, so of course, there would be rumors, and it was his duty to report to the military and ensure he was loyal.

You are an American state. You will be loyal.

"Now, you have never joined the fight for your nation, and because of that, people have questions. Have you had contact with the rebel states?" the general asked.

Once, Delaware would have said no. Once, he would have lied to protect his relationship with his mother, to protect the fact that he did not think he could fight his family.

But Delaware was no longer capable of saying no. Every part of his body and mind screamed at him to comply, gentle and pushing and all-consuming, leaving room for nothing else.

And so he complied. It was easy, it was simple, and it made him a good state.

"Yes. I have exchanged letters with Virginia," Delaware said. A part of him wanted to justify why, but a wave of shame overtook him, bitter on his tongue, and he looked down and didn't say anything else, awaiting judgment.

"Well, I didn't want to hear that," General Schneck said, sounding upset. "You will never contact her or any of the other rebels again and hand over any correspondence you still have. You could have jeopardized everything; you have been the reason that people died. You are never going to be anything but a loyal state from now on, even if I have to make you one."

"I understand," Delaware said, the fog growing stronger, rewriting things and changing things until they perfectly fit the narrative he was told.

He had gotten people killed. He had jeopardized things. He had betrayed his nation.

"You are going to join the army to repent. You will not feel bad about anything you do, as in the army, and you will obey your orders without question. You are a loyal state, and to be loyal, you must be obedient, as you cannot be trusted to make your own judgment calls. Understand?"

"I am a loyal state. I must be obedient," Delaware repeated, the words solidifying, repeating in his mind until they were unquestionably true.

"Good. I will find a unit for you. Until then, aside from decisions needed to take care of your health, you will come to me and have me check every decision you make. We cannot trust you, and that must be correct. I will also be writing to your father to see how he thinks you need to be punished," the general said. Delaware just nodded.

He had no reason or desire to argue or fight.

He had made mistakes. He needed to make up for them.

Obedience was the natural penance.

He was going to prove himself loyal. He was loyal.

There was no ability to think otherwise.