Everlasting War - Rusame

<Chapter 1 - Britannia>

   "Father! Please! You need to end this war!"

   "America, my son, I've tried. Russian Empire won't budge. I've had France talk to Kalmar, and there's no luck there either."

   "Then I'll go to Muscovy, or rather Ha'il, and I'll meet the Crown Prince of Muscovy," the younger man announced.

   The two were in the throne room of the Anglo Palace. The older man sat in a large throne that was up some steps in between two smaller thrones. The throne room was pretty elegant, white marble floors, large windows allowing natural lighting, some large skylights and a glass dome sat on the ceiling allowing more natural light. Large, golden chandeliers sat up on the ceiling, candle sticks residing in them. They weren't used unless it was dark and light was needed, but the throne room wasn't used during the night hours anyways. Jewels did dangle off the chandeliers, however, creating rainbow spectacles all over the walls and floor.

    The older man who sat on the throne was the King of Britannia, Great Britain, or United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, and he looked as any old English king in 1895 would, even though it was not 1895, just slightly more handsome and a full head of hair. A large black cape, a red sash and ribbon, just the usual. Just, the man also wore a crown. The crown had red fabric in the middle and it went well with his outfit. And flag. His face was a flag, and his skin tone matched that. The flag was referred to as the Union Jack, crosses of white and red residing on a blue background. Nothing to special. Maybe it was complicated compared to other leaders, but that didn't matter, he was recognizable.

   The younger man was the Crown Prince of Britannia, America, or United States of America. Being Britain's eldest son, he had a lot of responsibility. He was hidden from the outside world, just as all crown princes, or princesses, are. Hell, Ha'il doesn't know what the three people competing for that title even looks like. Everyone has seen America's siblings, just not him. He wore a flag with thirteen stripes alternating in red and white, a blue canton, and fifty white stars on that canton. He wore a red uniform with gold embroidery on the mandarin collar and sleeves, a blue silk sash, and a white and red belt hugged his waist. A elegant gold cord dripped from his epaulette and a medal hung in between his collar. He had five medals lined up on the other side of his sash and two pins, or breast stars, under those medals. He wore a black hat, gold olive leaves embroidery on the top of the visor and a gold band wrapped the front of the cap, a royal emblem sat in the middle. His outfit was pulled off by a sabre, the scabbard of that sabre having gold color and the sabre's handle resembling that of a rapier's.

"It's too dangerous, America. I cannot lose you."

"Father, I can bring us peace! I just need a message to be sent to their kingdom and request their crown prince meet me in the Emirate of Ha'il," the younger pleaded.

   "I've told you, it's too dangerous! You're the crown prince, what will happen to the people of you die?"

   "I don't know, but they're dying! Their husbands are dying! Their sons are dying! Their fathers! Brothers! Cousins! Uncles! Dad, please!"

   "I'll speak to your mother," Britain sighed, realizing he couldn't win that argument.

   "Thank you, Father," America replied, relief flooding his voice.

   This quickly prompted him to bow then leave his father be. So he did so, quickly walking out the throne room and towards his own room. He was tired, he had spent the day going over updates of the war with his siblings. Sadly, he knew his mother wouldn't allow him to leave, so he asked his brothers Canada and Australia to speak to her, try to convince her. He asked them to bring up their sister India's two year old son and Tuvalu, their youngest sister, only being twelve. To bring up the fact Queen Kalmar is having another child by the end of the year. Just anything to make Mother agree.

   Once he got into his room, he quickly stripped out of his uniform. He put some shorts on and a white top before getting in bed, groaning as he did so. It was a large bed in a large room, but it was so lonely in there. He always told himself that he had everything, and that because of that, he can't be sad, but he always felt like something was missing. He rolled around for almost an hour before finally getting comfortable and being able to fall asleep.

   Sleep, however, doesn't treat him well. He never gets enough of it. He always wakes up feeling the same, lonely, desolate. He had hoped it was just the stress of the war that caused this, but India told him it was a person he needed. A person. Something he can't have. Nobody has even seen him. He was crown prince after all, and if he got married, he'd need a royal wedding, but then everyone would have to see him. He has to wait till his own parents die. Or, he could break the social norm of the entire world. He'd rather not, though. He wanted that person to be there, though. But, who were they? These questions, thoughts, they're all America thinks about when he's sleeping. A continuous cycle of torture. How the hell did his father do it? Who the fuck knows.