Author: TheDayYouSaidGoodnight PM
Austria once met Spain's little sister, a spunky colony called the Philippines. Three centuries later, he finds himself on her shores and takes a vacation with unexpected twists and turns.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Austria - Chapters: 9 - Words: 32,185 - Reviews: 29 - Favs: 36 - Follows: 25 - Updated: 06-12-11 - Published: 10-25-10 - id: 6425257
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I have been meaning to write a Hetalia fanfic, but time has not been kind. Thankfully, time had some mercy on me and allowed me to spend a hassle-free semestral break. I think I was probably bonked in the head by the entrance test I took and the sumptuous spicy stuff I've been eating the night before. So, forgive the crack pairing coming up.
I'm sorry if the nations will be OOC in this. I'm only interpreting them based on the way the treated the Philippines during their stay.
OC sheet (don't worry, she's no Mary Sue):
Name: Philippines (Paulita Isabel del Pilar-Bonifacio)
Former "masters": Spain, America and Japan (she's still dependent on America and has repaired relations with the other two.)
Hair Color: jet black
Eye Color: brown
Skin Color: tan
Relatives: She takes care of three children, representing the major islands of the Philippines: Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao.
*Her name is based on two characters from the novels of Dr. Jose Rizal. For now, she acts quite childish, but in later chapters, she takes on a "Maria Clara" demeanor.
Disclaimer: Axis Powers Hetalia and all its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Prologue: A Brief History of Colonization in the Philippines
The year was 1565, and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo had captured another nation. Since 1521, he had been struggling with this feisty, stubborn woman who was the mistress of three lush, gorgeous islands. Now, she had knelt at his feet, subdued by the power of the West. He wasn't fooled by her submissiveness, though. Every now and then, she would revolt against Spain and give him terrible headaches.
"Things could have been easier, Philippines. If you had just allowed me to become one with you in 1521, you would not be wounded like this. Don't worry. I will teach you how to dress properly, to cook delicious meals, to have glorious churches and to pray. Would you like that?" Antonio asked, tending to the wounds of the subdued nation.
"Well, I cannot choose my fate. Let Bathala do His will." Philippines said sadly, not even looking Spain in the eye. Her native garb flew in the wind.
"But remember that I cannot be with you always. I have much to do in Europe. I will send priests and governors to teach you my ways." Spain said. "Very well. I want to learn." Philippines said.
Spain brought priests to teach her people about the man who died on the cross. His governors would watch over the Philippines but he would try to visit. He then gave her a name and a surname, for the natives of the ancient times had no surname.
From then on, she was to be called Paulita Isabel Carriedo.
Philippines stayed in her three islands, watching over the children she adopted from each island group: Luzon (Lucia de los Santos) Visayas (Victoria Roxas) and Mindanao (Harun Jamal-ul Kudarat).
Spain was very kind to her, even sharing much of his culture. As a result, she learned to cook well, and was visited by foreigners for her hospitality, her kindness, her desirable traits as a woman and the sights her country could offer. The women learned to wear dainty dresses and full skirts. They (like their nation) always carried around a fan of gold-etched black lacquer and white silk. The men wore European-style suits or pineapple fiber-embroidered shirts and toted canes.
Unfortunately, Antonio did not grow to love Harun much, for he was quite stubborn and rebellious, as well as his people being Muslims. Sometimes, Lucia and Victoria were forced to fight her and it proved too much sometimes in their dear mother's home.
When Spain was not there, problems started. The governors collected exorbitant taxes, killed filibusteros (rebels), tortured the natives, displaced people from their lands. Sometimes, even the priests were more corrupt, taking advantage of the modest young women and ordering arrests.
Philippines soon had enough. After many failed revolutions, she amassed the anger of the whole nation and directed it towards Spain. Soon enough, the colonial government was toppled.
"You wanted to see me, Antonio?" Alfred said, entering the conference room in Paris and taking a seat across Antonio. "I know that you have been eyeing Paulita. She is beautiful, and you can attest to that. She is rich in resources and she could be a market for your ever-expanding economy. Unfortunately, her spunk has gotten the better of me." Antonio said.
"And what do you want me to do?" Alfred said, munching on his burger. "Well, I know you like playing the hero. We'll pretend to fight and you'll defeat me. I wouldn't want them to take credit for their independence. It would be a shame to be defeated by your own colony." Antonio said.
"I'm going to be the hero?" Alfred's cerulean eyes turned glossy. "Yes…and now, I'm giving the Philippines to you, but at a price." "Name it. I like her!" Alfred said, dreaming of the raven-haired woman in cloth made out of pineapple fibers.
"Twenty million dollars. Just sign this and pay…she's all yours." Antonio said, showing him a contract and a pen. "Done." Alfred said, signing it. "The money will be with you by tomorrow."
That was the Treaty of Paris. Spain sold the Philippines to America.
Philippines watched Spain and America poke each other with sticks, and then with guns and ships. She wasn't cheering for either side, but she just thought that America was her hero.
America may have been the new master of the Philippines, but she was not known to give up that easily when it came to her freedom. One of America's soldiers, a certain Grayson, had been drunk and accidentally shot a Filipino soldier. Of course, Paulita was enraged.
"How dare your stupid, drunk soldier shoot mine! He was not doing anything to you!" Paulita said, a bolo pointed at Alfred's throat. "He was just doing his duty, Philippines!" "Doing his duty my ass!" she said.
"Ha! You think you can pit that rusty knife of yours against my superior technology? You're just a servant to me." Alfred said. Paulita gave his arm a deep gash. "Very well, then, Miss Carriedo. This will not be called a war. This will just be one of your little hissy fits against me."
"This isn't a hissy fit, Señor Jones. This. Is. War." Paulita said.
For around three years, they fought. Alfred was right, he would win. He stripped the Church of its power, he executed repressive laws, introduced the English language, brought in American products and gave her the American dream. He had been reckless a number of times, but Philippines came to realize that she had to depend on him.
"I told you, Philippines. You should have just obeyed." "Spain told me almost the same thing around 300 years ago. I'm sick of hearing it." She said. They seemed to hate each other a bit, poking sticks at each other, scratching and clawing. Soon enough, just like in clichéd films, the former enemies turned almost into lovers.
"Alfred, do you love me?" Paulita asked, her brown eyes sparkling in the moonlight. "Of course, in spite of your rebellious leaders and unruly tribesmen…yes." Alfred said.
"Then let me go," Paulita said, in time with the crashing of the waves on her shores, "I want to taste freedom, Alfred. You were once England's colony. I'm sure you feel the same way. I love you, and you're my friend, but you're also my captor. Maybe when I'm free, we'll be better friends."
Alfred gulped. He knew what it was like to long for freedom. He loved the adrenaline pumping in his veins during battles but at the same time, he felt guilty for somehow betraying the hand that fed, taught and nurtured him. He learned from the other countries. The more stubborn you are, the more they fight.
He ran a hand over his dirty blonde hair and thought of what to do. "No, Paulita. You aren't ready yet." In spite of that, Paulita kept asking for freedom. Soon enough, he said yes. He didn't want his past to bite back at him. The persistence of this girl!
Paulita was soon reading books on governance and teaching her own people to rule. Alfred was there every step of the way, slowly inching away, fading away and counting the days until July 4, 1945. If it makes her happy, then I'm happy.
A mysterious foreigner soon stepped on Paulita's shores, bearing a sign "Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere". He soon spotted Paulita and asked, "Excuse me, pretty miss, would you like to join this club? It's going to help your economy!"
"I would love to, but, my economy's alright thanks to Kuya Alfred. One peso is to one dollar. Thank you, anyway." Paulita covered her face with a fan and moved on.
Paulita was celebrating the feast of the Immaculate Conception when she heard that Pearl Harbor was bombed. World War II had finally struck Asia. She soon phoned Alfred. "Kuya, are you alright?" "I think so. Kiku just bombed me, the treacherous bastard!" he said, barking over the phone.
"Watch out, Paulita. He might target you, but I'll help you every step of the way." Alfred soon hung up. Just as Paulita hung up, she heard explosions outside her house. The bamboo watchtowers outside her house had been bombed.
She saw a stranger, definitely Asian. "Excuse me, mister, what's going on here?" she asked, with hands on her hips. "I'm going to be one with you, my dear. Such a young, sweet and pretty thing," he said, making her glower.
Soon enough, Japan's troops had occupied the Philippines, taking away the prettiest of women to be their objects of pleasure. Philippines could do nothing but to obey Japan or face the bayonets. America came to support her, but his support proved inadequate. He had to flee to get more help. Philippines was waiting.
"He won't help you get out of this. That burger-eating moron doesn't care about you. All he wants are your resources. He's going to die. The Axis will take over the world." Japan said. "No, I don't believe a single word you said! Alfred's going to come back, Kiku! He said, 'I shall return'." Philippines cried out, even in the face of a whip.
Japan sighed. Such a gullible girl… "Look at your people. You're still being a rebel, that's why they're dying of malaria, starving, and walking to their deaths." "No, you got it all wrong. I'm only being a rebel because you're being mean to my people. Stop being mean and I'll stop being a rebel!" Philippines retorted with tears in her eyes.
Just all of a sudden, Alfred broke through the wall with two machine guns. "Who's the hero now?" he asked. "Kuyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" Philippines would have jumped if she weren't tied to a chair. "Oh, no you don't!" Japan said, taking out his own gun. Soon, they were shooting all around and destroyed Philippines' house. Japan surrendered and fled Philippines' house.
"Thank you soooo much, Kuya. I knew you'd come back! But…when will I be free?" Philippines asked, as she and America looked at the ruins of her house. "After we fix up your house…I just can't leave you like this." America said, wishing the days would go slower. "You're the best brother in the world!" Philippines almost choked him with her embrace.
On July 4, 1946, Philippines was no longer Paulita Isabel Jones nor Paulita Isabel Honda. She named herself Paulita Isabel del Pilar-Bonifacio, after two of the heroes of the revolution.
Over the years, Antonio and Kiku had apologized and promised to mend their strained relations. As she said, she and Alfred would be better friends when he wasn't bossing her around. It rang true. In the early 2000s, Alfred's boss had declared that the Philippines was a non-NATO ally of the United States. Together, they were bound by the Mutual Defense Treaty. They would fight back-to-back whatever happened. She was recognized as the First Republic in Asia and became a popular tourist destination. Antonio had become her closest friend when it came to culture, arts and faith.
Her existence had not always been one of war, though. During those years in between the revolutions and the wars, she met another country, though her memory of the event was vague. But she would always remember the nation's purple eyes, so much different from her brown ones. She could not remember what happened, but she would always remember the glossy, beautiful grand piano and the large window panes. She would meet him again…soon.
 Bathala: He was the supreme god of the Tagalogs before the Spaniards came.
 Kuya: Filipino word for "big/older brother".
Yay…off to chapter 1, then. :D I just gave my interpretation of how Philippine history would be done in Hetalia style.