Chapter Text
On rare occasions, father would let my brother and I visit North America because later we would grow and become of age to finally watch over our territories. He would bring us here to have a little look and observe, this is in hopes that when the times come, we would be given a sense of familiarity and would have an easier time adapting.
It is also the only time where we were allowed to be outside of our home at all.
I enjoyed it; I love seeing my people living peacefully, seeing the wildlife of North America, feeling the warm sun against my flesh. However, there is this one place in particular that my brother and I always visit when we come to North America.
It was a field of sunflowers.
The sunflowers stood tall and mighty, facing towards me with bright dignified pride. Magnificent flowers that bloom only towards the sun.
My brother would hide inside of its labyrinth and I would try finding him, it’s almost like a game between the both of us. He would hide and I would try to seek him. I think the game is called hide-and-go-seek.
“America!” I called him. As usual, he never replied.
I stepped forward, filled with determination and persistence to find my brother, and feel myself be engulfed into the cold embraces of the Sunflowers’ stems. It was claustrophobic. Everywhere I saw were green stems like thick fog on a cold winter night.
I let my legs guide me to wherever it wanted to guide me, following my instincts and prayed to the Lord that I found my brother.
“America!” My voice quivered as I called for him again.
Anxiety filled my head, I started to wonder if I shouldn't have walked through this field but by then it was already too late. Once you are inside the field you could never turn back.
Then as luck would have it, I found him.
His back was in front of me; he seems to be in a trance. Is this why he hasn’t answered my calls?
“America?” I called him. Still no reply.
I stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, the action snapped him awake from his trance and made him turn to look at me. His wide red eyes staring back at mine.
“America,” I smiled, “found you”
I tried to see what put him in a trance, behind him was a stem with a perfectly clean slice where half of the sunflower once was. With this sight, I concluded that if I look down to see his hands, I would find where the sunflower exactly is.
“What are you going to do with the flower?” I asked.
America looked down at the sunflower, “there is a vase that has been empty for a long time, I thought it's about time I put something on it” he answered.
“Why a sunflower?”
“Why not?” he flatly said.
The sunflowers protected us from the warm sunlight. Even so, you could feel their small presence above your head—like a wreath, beautifully crafted just for you. A silent, soft breeze slipped through the stems, so faint you would miss it if you weren’t trying to notice.
There was a comforting silence between us, where we could soak in each other’s company, like serenity. I like these moments, it is where I can properly see the state my brother is in.
America has those intense yet oddly empty eyes, and it was always described as unnerving, even father said it out loud; however, no matter how long I stared into it, I felt nothing of the sorts but I couldn't name what I was feeling.
He is an odd fellow, seemingly quiet and reserved; He gave the impression of obedience but he was the most troublesome—unpredictable and used his given knowledge for himself, or so I heard.
He is considered father’s little headache.
“Do you know why sunflowers face the sun?” He suddenly asked.
I thought for a moment, “They love the sun so much they want to watch the sun forever!”
“What an optimistic thought”
“But it does seem like it, the sun is beautiful”
“I could never tell, every time I tried looking my eyes hurt—sunflowers would hurt their eyes”
“That's because sunflowers have no eyes”
“Then they couldn't be watching”
I frowned, “why are you asking?”
“I was just wondering. Every time we come here, they only seem to face the sun” he explained in a soft tone, “they wouldn’t see the soft grass, the mighty birds that flew in the air—much more breathtaking sights yet they chose to look only at the sun”
“I don't understand, what's wrong with the sun?”
“There's nothing wrong,” he assured, “I just thought, isn't it isolating to face nothing but the sun?”
I smiled at my brother, “you're being odd, again”
Then a loud voice echoed above us, it wasn't a shrill, it was composed and commanding. Most importantly it was a voice we are familiar with.
“Master Canada! Master America! Play time is over!”
It was Sir England, the head butler.
I instinctively put against America, who obliged and tightened their grip.
“Ah, it seems late” I said, yet the sun is shining bright above us. Father still doesn't like us being far from home, so it is imperative that we must go back home earlier.
How sad, I wanted to stay in the field a little longer.
I tried remembering where Sir England’s voice is coming from but the sunflowers made it seem like his voice was everywhere all at once, making it impossible for me to exactly locate him.
Fortunately, I don't need to worry; America always knows the way out.
I felt myself being pulled as America dragged me into a direction that I wasn't able to process properly—I felt the stems hitting against me, their leaves brushing against my cheeks as we pushed through the Sunflowers' labyrinth.
Despite the disturbance, I felt as if I was sleeping and felt myself being carried off to bed—I wasn't really sleepy but it felt similar—I could close his eyes and let my brother take the lead for both of our escape.
I never opened my eyes until a bright light compels me to.
We were both out of the field of Sunflowers.
Sir England stride towards us with a restrained, stern look on his face.
“How many times I told you to not play inside the field—now look at you! You dirtied yourself” he said in a disappointed tone.
His hand reached towards me, I involuntarily flinched when I felt his fingers on my hair. Pulling out revealed a stray leaf from the sunflowers, which he threw away by a sharp flick of his wrist.
“What a mess. What. A. Mess” he speaks for himself.
He noticed the sunflower on America’s hand, “what is this, Master America?” He asked.
“A sunflower,” America simply said.
“I can see that. Why do you have it?”
“It's for the empty vase in my room, I wanted to put something on it”
“Why didn't you ask us beforehand? We would've gotten you a flower that looks better with the furniture”
“I prefer to choose a flower to my liking”
Sir England doesn't seem to be amused, “Hmm, that is indeed a fine flower. Now then, give it to me”
America handed him the sunflower.
“No, I mean the dagger you used to cut it with? Do you see me as a fool, that I won't notice that very clean cut, Master America?”
My brother didn't answer, I watched him reach downwards and pull out his dagger he had hidden, which he handed it to Sir England.
“This is the 11th dagger I confiscated, where…” he paused before sighing “when will you learn to stop?” But there was no answer.
With the dagger in his hand, he calls a nearby maid to dispose of it.
With a swift turn to his heels Sir England was about to take a step forward when America called out to him.
“Yes, Master America?”
“Why do sunflowers always face the sun?” I was shocked when he asked him. I thought we had moved on from the conversation.
Sir England took his time before sighing, "Isn't it obvious, Master America?” he said, he continues “Sunflowers cannot survive without the sun”
“I see” I let out, “that makes sense”
“Come along now, young masters. We both know how impatient Master Britain can be” I watched as Sir England walked farther.
I stepped forward to follow him when I noticed that America wasn't moving with me—our hands were still holding onto each other, and he didn't come along with mine—I turned to him, confused.
“America?”
He has a dark expression on his face, I have never seen such a look on his usual flat face.
“Is something bothering you?” I asked him.
“It's exactly as I feared,” he confessed, “sunflowers are forever damned to face the sun; they're blind to what's beyond the sun”
He was silent for a moment, “we’re like the sunflowers; forever damned to face the sun”
I chuckled, “you're being odd, again”