Bigger Army Diplomacy

XXIV

"I'm alive!" She whispered. So teleportation really worked. It really shouldn't've (just gonna keep annoying y'all with these) worked, but Monarchy was never one to judge defying the laws of physics. At least, not when it worked out for her.

Honestly, Monarchy really didn't want to do that ever again. It was breathtaking, in the way that was bad, as she couldn't breathe. It squeezed her, made her nauseous, everything bad about teleporting as a ghost. She wasn't going to be doing that anymore.

Boy, Normandy was not happy when she heard that her husband was detaining her daughter. she couldn't do anything, of course, but she was still angry.

It seemed that all their plans were falling apart while the British were just getting stronger. She hoped that he hadn't declared war yet. That would bad.

---------

It's fine. You're okay. The man said, before he lunged at her.

Startled, France gasped and shot up in a cold sweat. It took her a couple deep breathes to realize that she wasn't there anymore. This place had awoken the nightmares that lurked deep inside her, that killed any hope she had for a future for herself. She didn't want to relive that place anymore. It was a cause that she believed in, but not the way she wanted it to play out.

The monarchy, the royalty, (Aren't those the same thing?) Hell, even her sister! Nothing could escape their grasp. She hated it, loved it, but hated it at the same time. She never let herself remember that time, but now that she was stuck in a dinky holding cell, that was the only thing she could think of.

She wanted to scream, but she had long figured out that more people were near her, and as rude as she was, that would be more rude than she wanted to be.

France wondered if she was going home as a prisoner, or one of war.

-------

Honestly, Spain really, really hated her dad. Iberia was the worst person she had ever met in the history of meeting people. When the letter came that The United Kingdom was marrying France, Spain wasn't angry at him, or England, she was angry at her dad.

And yet, when he was assassinated, she just felt nothing. It's funny, she should've felt something. Anything, anger, sadness, happiness, y'know, something. She was queen, sure, but the coronation had not happened yet, so why should she care?

The second she thought about it the second she stopped feeling empty. A chest, in her mother's old room, told by her father to never touch it. Her father wasn't around anymore, so he couldn't tell Spain what to do.

But according to him, three year-old Portugal could.

"You can't go this way!" He said in Portuguese, with that small baby voice that all toddlers do. With one hand he blocked the doorway and the other was just hanging at his side because his arms weren't long enough to actually reach the other side. Spain chuckled, squatted down and pat his head, the fluffy mass of hair already messed up.

"I can. I can do whatever I want." Spain rose up, her light yellow dress already crinkled enough. (Wearing Yellow to a Funeral vibes)

"Not true!" Portugal's finger rose up like a detective in a Mafia game. "Dad told you not to!"

Spain wasn't afraid to be blunt with her brother. "He's dead. He can't tell me what to do."

Portugal sighed in defeat. "Fine."

Her mother's bedroom was closed, like it always was ever since 1778, the day her mother died of tuberculosis. It was frightful, those last few days where her, pillow, bedsheets and mouth were all stained a crimson shade. When she entered the room, she noticed that it hadn't changed. The blood was still there.

"What's that?" Portugal asked, pointing at the blood. God, Spain jumped. Toddlers can be scary when they want to be. Even when they aren't trying.

Spain had forgotten that Portugal wasn't there when this happened. He was a product of his father's affairs with some other person, not her mother.

"It's nothing." She muttered, a tad uncomfortable.

She immediately went over to the foot of the bed, swiftly opening the chest and rummaging through it. Portugal watched over her shoulder.

She pulled out random clothes and journals that she may have saved for later. And there, at the bottom, was a map.