Extreme AU. NetherlandsxAmerica. This was inspired by a review left on my other story. For my 'Dutch' reviewer! Here... more of this pairing!

Rated M. I own nothing.

OoOoOo

England called her America. Whatever the world held beyond her pristine shores, she did not truly know. Only what England told her.

He spoke of wars, rumors of wars, and countries other than himself that might try to take her away. He warned her that she must never allow this. America agreed. She only wanted to be with England. He protected her.

The war between England, Turkey, and The Netherlands-whom he called Holland- had been waged for nearly one hundred years prior to her birth. America only knew what England told her of Holland and his evil ways. Or how Turkey was without mercy and harmed several other nations just like her. America shivered at his tales. He often spoke of how Holland had hurt many people and subjugated others. She also understood that it was England that kept her safe.

She was his colony after all. England often reminded her as he brushed back her blonde hair fondly. He was grooming her to be an excellent nation, when she finally got there. America loved her time under British rule and England treated her very decently. There were many days where she would sit on the shore and wait for his ship to return. Often times, he had pretty baubles from exotic places just for her. Proper courting gifts, all of them, and America adored every single one. He had a sort of fondness for her that led America to believe that when she was what he needed her to be, they would be wed.

He had certainly dropped enough hints about it. 'When you are older, I shall take you with me,' was his favorite promise and she kept that close to her heart. America flushed with pleasure at the thought of their union. England frequently told her it would be the stuff of legends, and she wished it were so. America did want to please him.

England had given her everything. England cared for her and protected her. She was a very blessed colony.

However, England's efforts to keep her safe did include having some of his soldiers on her land. America did not mind, for she belonged to England. Whatever he wished was her desire to fulfill to the best of her abilities.

She was a proper British colony, England's favorite as he told her on the gentle summer nights while they stared at the stars.

Her only tasks were minding to the home England had given her and keeping herself out of any tomfoolery that might arise. Where he thought she would ever encounter trouble, America did not know. She was forever safe with England, in her mind, at least.

Therefore, when Belgium an ally of the evil Holland had been captured near America's shores; She only knew when he returned on a horse slickened with perspiration, evidence of its hard ride to her home. She watched soundlessly as England carried a large sack, that almost appeared to be human-shaped. America felt slightly feint. What on Earth was going on? She wanted to ask, yet it was not her place to question her sovereign nation. England had been thoroughly brooding for nearly a fortnight, by the time she plucked up the courage to approach him. All of it out of nearly wifely concern. He did not eat his normal meals, nor spend time in America's company by the hearth as he often had. She could barely persuade him to take his usual evening tea!

She knocked at the door to his private chambers early one morning. Her hands full with a silver tray and tea set. She had prepared a special breakfast just for him, to perk him from his dreary mood.

When he answered the door, she gave him a demure smile. She always attempted to be a proper colony for England, it made him smile. America loved his smile. It made her feel as warm and happy as the day he found her amongst the reeds of a river.

He gave a hesitant grin in her direction. She thought that perhaps, whatever had been troubling him had finally passed. England gestured her into his room, and took the tray from her as she was about to set it down on his desk.

His green eyes surveyed her with such acute interest that America felt herself flush. What was going through his mind? She pondered the question for only a moment before tossing it aside. If England wanted her to know, he would tell her.

America contented herself with that knowledge. She gently patted her hair, to ensure it was still properly tamed. She was only concerned with pleasing England.

Until he approached America with a special request.

"America?" He asked gently, his accented voice caused her heart to flutter slightly.

"Yes?" She answered promptly.

"Do you remember the night I returned?"

She nodded quietly, as a look of concentration stole over his face.

"I have captured an enemy nation." He informed her nearly briskly. America gaped at him before shutting her mouth silently. Her eyes were wide.

"Congratulations are in order then?"

"Not quite, my pet. There is something I need from you," his green eyes narrowed on her face.

She drew a soft breath. England needed her? She felt her stomach tighten and flutter at the very thought.

"Anything," she said in a breathy voice.

Could America pose as Belgium for a time? Did she have the wherewithal to travel to foreign lands and help the British Empire? To gain the information they so desperately needed to end this horrid war? Would she be his little angel and help save the lives of countless innocent men? For him?

America agreed without a second thought. Yes, she would do it for England. Always for him.

He grabbed her up in a tight embrace that nearly had America trembling. She blushed and smiled widely at the touch of his arms around her.

England beamed at her and it was so enchanting that it nearly stole her breath away. He took her hand and pulled her out into the hall and down the stairs.

He led her to a room, where the country he called 'Belgium' was trussed up like a goose for slaughter. She was being held in an area of the house that was solely for England's discretion. America was never permitted in here. Now she understood very clearly, as to why. America placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp of shock. Her blue eyes widened at England who turned her toward the center of the room.

A strange series of symbols were drawn upon the stone floor. When England approached they appeared to glow, but perhaps that was only a trick of the light? What unholy thing was this? No, not unholy, England was the purest of nations. He would never dream of dabbling in Satanic things. This must be.. some holy thing she was unaware of. She was woefully uneducated in the world outside her shores compared to England. Her heart beat rapidly as she attempted to accept what her eyes were seeing.

America dared to look around, noting the strange yet exotic scent wafting in the air. Small plumes of smoke came from conical burners. She gazed upon them in slight awe. England placed a black robe around his shoulders and grabbed Belgium roughly.

She growled at him, America found it horrendously unladylike. Would The Netherlands be a savage like his ally? She dearly hoped not.

England plucked a few brown strands from the nation's head and proffered them to her.

America swallowed harshly and reached trembling fingers toward his hand.

The strands were nearly weightless as they were laid in her palm.

"Stand in the circle," England instructed her.

With numb legs she walked carefully into the circle of symbols on the ground. Her blue eyes met his green ones and the look of pure pride he gave her had America forgetting some of her fear.

England needed her to do this, so she must. The people needed her as well, she must never forget.

"Remember America, no matter how much you hate him personally, Belgium loves Holland. However, you must call him 'The Netherlands'."

She did not hate the Netherlands, England did, However, she was fiercely loyal to her sovereign nation, so she refused to enjoy even a moment of company in the other nation's lands.

America nodded quietly, readying herself for the transformation about to take place. The real Belgium was swearing their countries a thousand times over. The blonde colony did not think it was prudent to correct her assumption about America's status. America barely sparred her a glance, for she focused on what England told her.

This was an extreme honor, to be trusted by England like this.

She would not fail him. America would stand until the bitter end.

With a nod, she could hear England speaking rapidly calling names she did not understand. Her what-colored hair soon began to change under England's dark chanting. It grew and darkened to a honey brown. America could only distantly hear the words England was speaking, though she did not grasp what he was saying.

Her body twisted, and changed. Her skin pulled taut and it burned all over. America felt her breathing coming out is ragged pants as she screamed. She could almost hear England telling her to keep a 'stiff upper lip' in her thoughts.

Ladies bore all pain with dignity and silence. America bit her lip to keep from crying out at the onslaught of power pulsing around her.

The pain subsided into itching. So intense and powerful that she clawed at the paling skin on her arms. Her shaped altered, her voice deepened slightly as she howled in frustration.

"It is alright America," England said in soothing tones as the light from the floor faded away. "It is done."

America put trembling hands to her face, and she looked back at Belgium who's wide eyes were frozen in shock. They were a perfect image of each other. It was as if Belgium were looking at herself in a mirror.

Such magic.

Dear Lord. Was this what England was capable of? America shivered at the thought. Her fingers touched unknown fabric. The dress of Belgium. There was a ribbon in her longer hair. She felt it as she looked at Belgium with a look of fear passing across her features.

This seemed unnatural, so very wrong, but it was for England.

"Thirty days America. That is all the time I can allow. You must find out what Holland is planning for his next attack. Do not forget they have breeched your shores," he warned her in a low voice, "only I will keep you safe. However, you must do this so that I can."

The colony nodded. Not trusting herself to speak.

Belgium watched them with terror shining in her green eyes. What were the mirror image of America's own at this moment.

England quietly led her away, leaving the bound nation helpless on the cold stone floor.

OoOoOo

England took her to the coast, and placed guards around her in a mostly empty fort. America was tied up and watched over, by her own men. She was Belgium, as she constantly reminded herself. England had explained to her that the Netherlands would send men to come collect his captured ally.

By now, the Netherlands would surely know of Belgium's capture and would launch a counterassault to free her. America tried to remember her prayers and repeated the litany inside her head. She prayed that God would guide her so that she would not fall into temptation while in the evil clutches of the Netherlands.

She recounted England's stories in her head, the ones that had been appropriate for a woman's delicate ears. He was a tall nation and he was ruthless, not as much as Turkey, but he was not to be trifled with. America needed to be strong.

She was a British colony. It would take more than this to dissuade her from completing her task for England.

Her men did not know who she was, and that was part of England's plan. He had to be certain that the Netherlands believed she was the real Belgium. It was imperative that she play that part, and luxuries given to a prisoner was not advisable.

So she suffered against the chill of the night in silence.

The attack happened at the break of day, as America huddled against prison cell wall. A single sentry had been at the south gate. The young man fled when his musket had misfired. Soon the forces of the Netherlands over ran the fort, and they found her in a short amount of time.

America blinked as she went from lightly dosing, to being pulled up gently by unknown hands.

She looked around, trying to understand where they were taking her. She stumbled forward, about to fall, when a man caught her elbow and steadied her. She gave a slight nod, not trusting herself to speak a word, lest she be discovered.

They led her to the main area where she saw a very tall and imposing man staring at her. He wore a coat of blue and white, with a shirt of red. The style of the clothing was similar to that of what she now wore.

America stilled and blinked at him, she felt her heart pang in nervousness. Now that she was surrounded by his men and seeing what she was certain was a hostile nation, she felt faint. Her heart started to beat so rapidly that she was afraid he would be able to see it about to burst in her chest.

She allowed her gaze to wander over his blonde hair, a shade lighter than her own had been and he too had green eyes. Very different from England, yet somehow they were stunning to America.

His face was like a blank mask and she knew not what to say, nor how to say it. She was wearing Belgium's features, but possessed none of the nation's memories.

She could tell the Netherlands was a hard nation, the way his eyes were predatorily watching her, and that he was not terribly pleased to have to come and rescue Belgium. Yet, he had still shown up, perhaps there was something honorable about this wicked nation after all?

America scolded herself for such foolish thoughts.

She said nothing as he strode forward and pulled out his dagger. She stilled, but watched him, ready to flee if his suspicions grew, as she worried they would. He hooked the blade in-between her wrists and started cutting away at the rope that held her.

America took the moment to study him discreetly. He was a rather handsome nation, she was surprised to find. The way England had described him, she would have thought him mottled and hideous. She wished England were here. He would give this Netherlands a sound lashing.

However, he was not here. It was only her and the Netherlands... and all of his men.

Soon her hands were free and she rubbed her aching wrists out of reflex. America gave him a small smile of thanks. England had warned her that Belgium loved the Netherlands, so surely smiling at him was not such a large leap of character?

His green eyes watched her intently, and she worried that she might have already gotten herself into hot water. However, he gestured for her to follow and turned to leave.

America gathered her courage and followed after him to a land unknown to her.