Independant

America x Reader


You hated that they had to fight over you.

England thought that you were a bad influence, that you'd taught America to be rebellious. But he really hadn't started rebelling until after you'd been sent away.

England mostly left you to your own devices; he knew that he couldn't control you, but he was in charge of America, and he'd forbade his brother to see you. It broke your heart to see brothers fighting like this, especially since you were the cause. It brought back horrible memories from long ago, back when you'd actually spent time with humans instead of countries.

You liked America a lot. You were close, seeing as you'd grown up together. You trusted each other, and he'd been furious when Britain separated you. He'd taken every opportunity to see you behind his brother's back, and you hadn't had the willpower to reject him.

And now here you all were, standing shin-deep in mud, the rain beating down on you like a billion tiny fists. America had the might of his army behind him; he'd already won. England's men had retreated, leaving him alone. You was standing off to the side, ever neutral. You looked away as England sank to his knees, sobbing like a child. One day, perhaps, they would have a chance to reconcile. You hoped so, because England was your friend, too.

America turned away from his now estranged brother, trudging through the mud toward you as his men threw their hats up in the air, jubilant shouts drowning out the weather. He reached out, his palm upturned, his eyes silently inviting you to take it.

You did.