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ferdamine · 5 years

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Your Gift, a Historical Hetalia One-shot

“Being a family means you are a part of something very wonderful. It means you will love and be loved for the rest of your life.”

After nearly eight long years, the sound of roaring cannon and bursts of musket fire were almost eerily absent.

In its place was left a small delegation of negotiators to be sent to Versailles. With any luck, his great, impossible, improbable dream will have come true.

He will finally, finally, be considered a nation in his own right.

And Alfred, the soon-to-be-officially United States Of America, was terrified.

He clenched his fist around his musket as he stood by the major generals and aide-de-Camps, lightening his grip once again when he heard the telltale creak of the smooth wood beneath his fingertips. They were gathered in a field just outside of Yorktown, and the last of the surrendering British troops were quietly marching their way past, tossing their muskets indignantly to the floor and refusing to cast their gaze upon the rebellious army. Instead, they focused their eyes on the French troops, which Alfred didn’t mind. At the moment, he couldn’t care in the slightest.

He forced himself to tune out the words scrambling in his head, deciding to focus instead on Yankee Doodle being played mockingly by his drummer boys and fife players. Out of the corner of his eye, he could just barely make out Lafayette’s smirk as the young officer gestures for the musicians to play a little louder. He could sense the ire of the British troops at the gesture.

Nevertheless, his mind eventually found its way back into the thoughts and feelings running around in his head. Despite the cheerful gaiety of seemingly all the men (even General Washington seemed to have the small hint of a smile on his face!), Alfred had remained quiet throughout the rest of the day after the surrendering ceremony. Before he knew it, the sun had already begun to set and Alfred found himself sitting quietly on his bed in the small room he was given at headquarters.

The entire day had been a blur of congratulations, drinks, parties, and forced smiles on Alfred’s part. He’d been sitting downstairs at the dining room table with all the other officers and aides, listening to their overjoyed chatter and relief. Alfred had actually begun to feel normal again, and had even indulged in a few drinks and light conversation with Laurens and Hamilton about the future of the war from here.

But when he heard his general’s chuckle, he’d stopped and turned to look at him. General Washington was seated at the head of the table, General Greene and Lafayette seated on either side of him. Alfred’s inner turmoil had come rushing back. After waiting a few minutes, he had excused himself, claiming fatigue.

Instead, he had come up to his room and stared blankly at the wall.

‘You have to do it. This is the best chance. Nothing is certain. Do it while you still have the chance.’

His gaze nervously drifted to the small wooden chest seated against the wall next to his small bed. Inside of it were a few of his belongings that he was able to gather from his childhood home before he’d fled to join the revolutionary cause. He had simply packed some items of clothing, a few important books, journals, and papers, and a few fond trinkets he’d had since childhood.

The bed creaked as he slowly rose, his footsteps heavy as he walked the few steps over to the small trunk. Getting down onto his knees, he pulled out a key from a necklace around his neck and slipped it into the chest’s lock, twisting it and receiving the satisfying click of the lock opening. He put the necklace back on and gently opened the chest.

Amongst the folded clothes and stacks of books, Alfred could immediately see a file resting close to the top of the pile of items. With a trembling hand, he lifted the file out of the chest and brought it over with him back to the bed.

“You... will never stop tormenting me, will you?” He whispered. When the file refused to respond, he opened it up and gazed down at the precious papers staring up at him.

On the top of the pile, the first paper was a copy of the Declaration of Independence. He’d decided to add it to the file because he considered it to be his true birth certificate. Alfred smiled fondly down at it before moving it aside.

The next few pages were very detailed Church and state records, dating back to when Britain had first found Alfred. There was a record of his christening and baptism, legal documents pertaining to ownership of property and residency, many medical documents signed by England. The most important documents, however, were a pair of adoption records and notices. One of the documents, appearing very aged, was signed by Britain himself in order to legally claim Alfred as his brother. The second document looked much newer, and all of the information on it was the same. The only difference was that there were no signatures on the second one.

Alfred let out a breath and held the two pages close to his heart.

He had lived so many years under England’s roof. And while he’d had many fond memories with England, it didn’t change the fact that he had not really chosen a life with him. Alfred had been brought into the British Empire when he’d been colonized. And whether he wanted to or not, he would’ve joined either way. But now, things were different.

Now, he had the freedom and the option to choose the family he wanted.

And the pain in his heart was only felt for a few seconds as he gently placed England’s adoption form into the small candle’s flame, letting the last of his connection to England smolder into ash.

He would burn the vestiges of his old life. But with the ashes of the dead arose the Phoenix of the new era.

After safely gathering up the remains of the old document in a small pot, Alfred carried it to the window and slowly let it scatter out into the open air.

He felt a tear slide down his cheek as he watched the wind carry away the pieces, but refused to let it fall any further.

He had a very important question to ask.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door to General Washington’s office had never before seemed so looming and frightening in all the years Alfred had been knocking on it and rushing in to see the man he’d been willing to pick up arms to defend against Britain.

It had been a few hours since Alfred had left the dining table to retire to his room. By now, the sky was engulfed in darkness. Even so, he could still hear the sounds of revelry outside in the soldiers camps. All of the men were likely indulging in a few too many drinks and lighting as many fireworks as they could find.

The sounds of the celebrations nearly drowned out his knock on General Washington’s door. At least, that’s what he told himself. Even he could admit that his knock was a lot softer than usual. But he would never admit the feelings of anxiety bubbling up in his stomach.

“Come in,” said the familiar voice from inside the room. Without letting himself dwell on his thoughts any further or letting his emotions overcome him, Alfred quickly opened the door and stepped into the office before he could change his mind.

“General,” Alfred greeted, a smile growing on his face at the sight of the famous general. Washington smiled lightly back at him. “Hello, Alfred. I thought you had retired for the night?” He’d inquired. He was sitting at his desk, stacks of papers in a chaotic sort of order all over the desktop. A quill pen was held firmly in his hand.

Alfred chuckled nervously. “Yeah, I know.. I was just.. thinking a lot about stuff.” He offered lamely. The general’s smile softened, became fond, at the sight of Alfred’s nerves. “Well, don’t just stand there, my boy. Come have a seat.” He nodded over to the chairs in front of his desk, and Alfred quickly headed across the room and stiffly sat himself down in the seat. His hand discreetly felt for the folded paper in his waistcoat, squeezing it lightly and affirming its presence once again.

“Is there something you wanted to discuss with me?” Washington asked, writing a few more words down on a letter he’d been composing. Alfred let out a breath. “W-Well, yeah, kinda... I’ve been thinking a lot about... my life, my past life, with England. And how, now that things are different now, I.. I wanted..” he cleared his throat. “I wanted... something new.” He finished.

Washington looked up at him curiously. “New?” He repeated, slowly setting down his quill and giving Alfred his complete attention. The feeling of being looked at so completely made Alfred’s heart twist with nerves. Alfred swallowed it down. He averted his eyes in sudden shyness. His cheeks felt warmer than usual.

“Yeah.. y’see, I..” Alfred trailed off, unsure of how to continue. How to put into words the kind of thing that he desired. How do you ask someone something so important? How do you ask for something so intangible, yet so real? So actively sought after? Something that nobody can even definitely define?

Alfred licked his parched lips nervously. “I, uh..”

Washington’s eyes were lightened with both amusement and concern now. “Alfred? Is something wrong?” He asked slowly, reaching a hand across to rest heavily on Alfred’s shoulder. His large hand immediately brought a warmth and a comfort to Alfred that he never thought he’d feel again after the fallout with England. Despite himself, his heart swelled and a smile finally broke out onto Alfred’s face.

“I’m.. I’m fine, sir!” He said breathlessly. He relaxed minutely. “I just wanted to talk about something... important with you..” he added. Washington nodded and removed his hand from Alfred’s shoulder. “Go on, then.”

Alfred took a deep breath. Now or never.

“Well, I may not have told you a lot about this before, but you know already that England watched over me when I was young. However, he was pretty distant. He’d only ever drop by every fifty years or so, so I basically raised myself with the help of a nanny.” He explained. Washington’s eyes continued to watch him, absorbing the information quietly.

“And.. well, I’ve never really... my only relative, Canada, lived very far from me. As a result, I never really got to experience a family, and very rarely was I allowed to make friends with other kids. So, when I met people like you and Ben and Alex and Laurens and all the others, well, I guess I just began to feel like you guys were all my family. My true family.” He said shyly. As he spoke, Washington’s eyes grew impossibly soft.

“But... the person I felt most connected to was.. you, sir.” Alfred said quietly. “Now that I have the chance to choose, I want to make my choice. If I’m going to have a... a father, sir, I want it to be you.”

Father. Father. Father. The term alone made Alfred so apprehensive that the word alone could stop him in his tracks. It was a word so simple, yet so all-consuming. Six letters. Two syllables. And a meaning so powerful that very few nations could even claim to truly know the word. The concept of a family was not the same as it was for nations. With nations, every relationship was based on your interests. If it benefitted you, you supported it.

With humans, it was blood, not politics, that built a family. And Alfred wanted that. The unconditional love that a family could bring. He didn’t want to be desired for the vastness of his land and the wealth it brought many.

Washington’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Oh, Alfred, you know you’ll always have a family in us. And you’ll always have a father figure in me.” He said softly. The words warmed Alfred further.

“I know... but.. what I want to ask of you...”

“You can ask me anything, Alfred. You know Martha and I already think of you as family. Nothing is going to change that.” Washington interrupted, firmly. Alfred let out what sounded like a combination of a choked up sob and an exhale. Before he knew it, he was suddenly surrounded by warmth. After a few moments, his mind registered how he was now standing, and Washington was standing next to him, his arms wrapped comfortingly around Alfred.

Alfred’s shaking hands slowly reciprocated the hug. He took in deep breaths to calm himself. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” Washington ran a hand gently through Alfred’s hair as he held the sixteen year old boy close. “What do you want to ask me, my boy?” He asked again.

Alfred was silent, his head resting against Washington’s shoulder. Now that he was faced away from him, but still surrounded by his warmth, the words seemed to flow out so easily.

“Will you... adopt me?” He whispered. His voice was barely audible to his own ears, but Washington’s sudden stillness told him that his words had indeed reached Washington’s ears.

“Adopt you?” Washington repeated, surprise evident in his voice. Relieved laughter quickly followed the statement. He pulled away, and placed his hands on Alfred’s shoulders.

“Dear one, I already see you as my son in every way. And I’m sure Hamilton and that lot see you equally as their brother. I don’t need papers telling me that you’re my son. You simply are.”

Alfred’s heart felt near to the point of bursting. “But I want it to be official.” He said, reaching into his waistcoat and pulling out the folded paper. Washington took the paper and unfolded it, skimming over the information. When he finished, he looked back over to Alfred, his eyes amused.

“How about we wait for Martha to return from her tea with Mrs. Greene and Mrs. Humphrey? I’m sure she’d want to be included in any official discussions like this.” He offered. Alfred nodded reluctantly. “Okay..”

“In the meantime, I’m sure Hamilton has had a few too many drinks. I say we go retrieve him.” Washington continued. Alfred smiled. “Of course, sir.”

And the worries that Alfred had felt all day were finally gone. In its place was an air of freedom and joy that Alfred found himself taking in as they walked through the camp.

The fireworks exploding in the air seemed just a little bit brighter somehow.

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