Countryhumans Oneshots

Sucessor

It had finally happened. The communist government was gone, and Poland was no longer controlled by the Soviet Union. Most importantly, his father could come home.

After so long, his father, the Polish Government-in-Exile, the Republic of Poland, was finally home.

Poland finally got to see him again without having to be secretive about it or hide the fact that they were talking.

It was an amazing feeling.

"What should I do now?" Poland asked his father, who smiled at him.

"What do you think is best for your people?" he answered. Poland shook his head, not meaning to get an answer like that.

"No-Ojciec-what should I do...I..." Poland tried to explain what he meant. What should he do now that he was going to die, die to let the real Poland take his place?

"Polska, you are completely free now. You don't have to ask for my permission to do things. You can do what you think is best." Poland was so frustrated by his father's lack of understanding. Poland needed to be told what to do so he didn't mess anything up for his father when he returned to his proper place as Poland.

"But...now that the communist government is gone, you'll be coming back to take your rightful place as Poland and I-" Poland was cut off by his father as he began speaking.

"I'm not Poland anymore," His father said, causing Poland to jerk his head up in shock. Words spilled out of his mouth without much thought.

"But—but you have to be! You were Poland before Soviet Union and Third Reich took over and ruined everything. I was just born to be Soviet Union's puppet, his toy. I didn't even know how to speak on my own. I wasn't meant to be a person or a personification of an independent country. That was supposed to be you and—" Poland was cut off by his father pulling him into a hug.

"I was Poland. But now I am passing that mantle onto you," he whispered. Poland began crying softly and gripped his father tightly.

"But I don't—" Poland began before his father cut him off.

"Don't you dare say you don't deserve this, Polska. You do—more than anyone. You deserve to live without being under the control of others. I got that chance. Now I want you to have it," His father said, causing Poland's tears to come faster and harder.

"But what if I fault your people because I'm too much of a mindless follo—"

"Polska, you are many things, but a mindless follower is not one of them," His father said. Poland nodded hesitantly before burying his face in his father's shoulder.

"Not anymore. But I..." Poland started, unable to express his feelings.

"The circumstances of your birth don't define you now, okay Polska? You are far more than a puppet or a satellite." His father said, his fingers starting to trace shapes on Poland's back, right between his wings.

Poland relaxed at that, the motions calming him.

"But...Ojciec, I don't know how to be a person. All my life, I've been someone whose strings have been pulled by others and...I don't know if I even understand how to remove the strings and move, live completely on my own, with my own free will." Poland said, his eyes closing.

Poland was so tired. Maybe this was because he was going to die soon, finally be free of the pain and suffering of life, leaving behind his father, the countryhuman that the Polish people deserved.

"You will do wonderfully, Polska. You are strong, and I know you can get through this," his father said. Poland thought he was squeezing his father as hard as he could, but he was still not ready to leave him, not after the short time they had together.

"You have so much faith..." Poland muttered, his eyes opening.

"And none of it is misplaced." He said.

"You have so much faith...." Poland muttered again, his voice tired.

"Let's talk about this tomorrow, Polska. It's getting late." Poland's body went limp in his father's arms, and he nodded.

"Okay, Ojciec. We can talk about this tomorrow." Poland muttered. He felt his father press a kiss on his forehead, and he smiled.

"Polska, I need you to move as well," Ojciec said, his voice amused. Poland groaned and reluctantly pulled away before walking to the bed and pulling off the covers. He kicked off his shoes and went to lie down, his father following his example.

"Good night, Ojciec," Poland muttered. He felt his father pull him into a hug.

"Good night, Polska. I love you," he said, his heartbeat lulling Poland to sleep. Poland returned the hug, wrapped his body around his father's, closed his eyes, and swiftly drifted off into sleep.

But unbeknownst to Poland, that night, the Government-in-Exile wakes up in extreme pain.

Unbeknownst to Poland, the Government-in-Exile kisses his forehead as a way to say goodbye.

Unbeknownst to Poland, the Government-in-Exile whispered one final goodbye.

And then the Government-in-Exile exhaled for the very last time.

And Poland woke up with his arms full of ash.