Hetalia x Mexico! Reader

Chapter 11: Monsters

     "You know Mex, after all those wars you've been through, you've never been the same." Alfred said aloud. We had decided to go to the world meeting, along with Mathew, together to try and be the first ones there.

     "Of course I haven't. War changes a person. Especially after being in 24 of those wars." I said, fiddling with an object in my pocket.

     "I know that but after all that, it seems like you'd be a bit heartless or something like that." We finally arrived to see that we were in fact the first ones. We sat down in our chairs which were seated right with Alfred in the middle, me on his left and Mathew on his right. After a while having conversation, most of the countries began arriving, but we were so engrossed with our conversation, we paid no attention to the weird looks we were getting. All of a sudden, he asked me a question I've been wanting to avoid for as long as possible.

     "I mean, have you ever gone out with anyone?" Alfred asked me.

     "Have you ever gone out with someone?" I shot back at him.

     "Well, yeah actually. Me and Mathew both." There was a pause. In the background, Arthur was about to correct him but was quickly shushed by the other countries, wanting to hear my story.

     "Wait. Who?"

     "Our brother Canada pendejo." I growled. He gulped and gave a nervous chuckle.

     "Anyways, back to the question." I gave a dreadful sigh and reach inside my pockets to hold my golden pendant.

     "Are you sure you really want to know?" I asked him warily.

     "Most definitely dudette!" I mumbled something inaudible and began to tell the story.

     Spain had gotten a report from his scouts and found out about the tragic events that had taken place. France's lover, Joan de Arc had been burned at the stake alive by Britain's people. I had overheard the whole thing, almost crying for France. Everyone knew about what happened, but almost never mentioned it. Almost every country has at least fallen in love once with a human, but almost all never make the same mistake twice. The youngest countries have not even the slightest idea of what love is. But when they do, it leaves them with an almost visible tear in their hearts.

3rd P.O.V

     The year was 1839 when 13 year old Mexico was exploring her land. She had barely lost the war with France and had to pay 600,000 pesos. After her minor wounds and scratches, she decided to go and spend time with her people. She played with the pueblo's kids, scoring goal after goal. All of a sudden, a boy entered the area, in which they were using, observing the children play. He was older than her by quite a few years actually, in appearance, but all in all, still very attractive. The way he walked, the way his eyes gazed over everyone just screamed out intelligence, sophistication, wealthiness even. He had his hands resting behind his back as he observed her. With curiosity stricken in her, she approached the boy.

     "¡Hola! ¿Como estas?" Mexico chirped happily.

     "Muy bien." They boy didn't seem too talkative. His accent gave away that he was probably from Spain. They stood there in silence for a few moments.

     "¿Tú nombre?" He asked her suddenly.

     "¡(y/n) Gomez, a tu servicio!" He gave a slight nod. This was quite unusual for him. He had never talked to anyone, especially a girl, about anything insignificant. In this case, a bit of small talk. He found this sort of vibe to her. Possibly adventurous or maybe even just down right intelligent for a young girl. She had intrigued him.