Secret States

Cussing Out Your Aunt

According to the Reader Map one of you is from Ireland. Who is it. Who is my fellow Irishmen. I demand answers! /j. You don't have to say if you don't wanna, I just saw it and got excited. Seriously at the time of me writing this I haven't even started work on this chapter.

As for those wondering why the sudden influx of chapters...well I recently sent my good friend ApeculiarChild2 the last chapter of this book for her to see, as our books series are pretty much happening in the same universe (speaking of which, y'all gotta check her out, she is an amazing writer), so I needed her to know some details. So now I'm racing to get to the finale of this book before she reaches it.

Good luck to me on that!

Louisiana POV

I had never been more grateful for the fact that New England was a bunch of predictable dumbasses. They all left and caused such a commotion in doing so that it was so easy to sneak away and fly to France's house, the house having been shown to me by Saarland a few years ago.

I needed to resolve some unfinished business with my aunt. France the child murderer needed to face her sins and realize that not all the children she has tried to kill were actually dead. I needed closure. I needed to know if she regretted "killing me".

Maybe I could also get closure for my cousins too, the main bulk of children killed by my aunt.

I landed on the front yard, and marched to the door, and began banging at the door.

"FRANCE! RENTÉ DÉYÒR!" (Come out) I yelled in Louisiana Creole, hoping that my aunt would come out and talk to me before Popá and my siblings found out that I was gone. I had already told the French territories about what I had planned, and French Polynesia had told me they were all out of the house.

"Bonjour? Qui es-tu? Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" (Hello? Who are you? What do you want?) France said as she opened the door.

"Salut France. Forgotten me so soon?" I said, crossing my arms. Recognition didn't come to her eyes, and I scowled as I realized she really had forgotten me.

"Who-"

"Louisana. Your nephew." I said. France's eyes widened, before confusion appeared in her face.

"Nephew? Louisiana was my niece, You are a lousy imposter." She said, looking smug, as if she had just uncovered a conspiracy.

"Or I'm just genderfluid." I stated. The smugness dropped quickly, replaced by confusion and embarrassment.

"Ah...I see. Would you like to come in, neveu?" She asked with nervousness in her voice. I marched into the house, shoulder checking her as I did so. Sure, that was petty and childish, but I felt as if I deserved to do that to France.

"Grossier..." (Rude) I heard her mumble from behind me.

"I think I deserve to be rude. After all, the last time we met you sold me off in a situation where you thought I would get killed, and did so without a single shred of remorse. I mean, I don't know why I expect you to care, considering what you've done to your children, but I thought maybe you'd at least hesitate, considering I've known you all your life. I'm not here to reconnect with you. I'm here to get closure." I said, turning to face her, crossing my arms.

Guilt briefly flashes across her face, and she crosses her arms, wiping her face clean of the small amount of emotion she'd shown.

"Amérique-" I cut her off before she could blame my dad. He and I had already talked about this, and resolved all the differences in opinion about the purchase. I understood his reasoning. I still didn't know my aunt's reasoning.

That's what I wanted. Not excuses. The real, actual, true meaning.

"Popá just wanted New Orleans. You were the one who offered to sell the rest of me. That wasn't his decision, even though he did take the deal. Besides, from Popá's point of view, I would live and become a state. From yours, I would just die. So tell me, la tante, how do you justify that?" I asked, wings spreading out to make me look larger.

"I-Louisiane...I needed the money." She said. I smiled slightly. I knew it. I'm just glad she was starting to admit it. More than Britain was doing in any case.

"I know." I said in response. France looked caught off guard by that.

"Then why storm in here and ask that if you already knew?"

"Like I said, closure. Besides, connasse, I...I wanted to know why...I wanted to know how selling me made you feel. Did you regret it? Did you...did you ever think about me after the fact? Look back and wish you hadn't killed your niece? I was the last part of Nouvelle-France! He might have already been dead, but still!" I shouted, as I began to ramble about all the doubts and thoughts I had about this. I tried to hold back my tears, but you could tell from my voice that I wanted to cry.

France looked even more caught off guard, and was silent. I curled my hands into fists, and tried my best to hold back tears. But it was getting harder. Maybe I should have done this with Popá like he wanted to do. Maybe then France would be more willing to give me an answer.

"Cat got your tongue, bâtarde?" I snapped, trying to hide my hurt behind anger. It was easier that way.

"Why are you so mad at me? Seems like you like your precious 'popá' more than you ever liked living with me." France finally said.

That made it both easier and harder to hide my hurt behind anger, as both increased with those words.

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN I DON'T WANT TO KNOW WHY YOU WANTED ME DEAD!" I yelled, the damn breaking, as a few tears began to roll down my face, "You sold me off, in a situation where you knew I would most likely die. Whether or not my life was better after being sold doesn't matter. What does matter is the fact that you basically abandoned me to die, seemingly without a second thought. But what else should I have expected from La France l'assassin d'enfants?"

"La Franc-do people actually call me that?" France asked, once again refusing to give an answer to the question I wanted answered so badly. Now I know why she and Britain ended up falling in love.

"I mean, they aren't wrong. You've killed so many children. Most your own, and some...some weren't. Some were like me. Did you ever care about them? About any of us?" I asked. France remained silent.

I never wished I had Hawaii's fire more.

"Please just say something! You don't have to say anything nice to try and make me feel better, poufiasse. I know you are a piece of shit. I know you used most of us for political and economic gain. If you don't fucking care for me, say it! I know you didn't care! You don't have to pretend you do!" I spat out. I knew she didn't care, but seeing her trying to save face like this infuriated me.

"But, that's the thing Louisiane. I did care. I just couldn't afford to then."