Hey guys! So this is a new story idea about a world where the country of The United States of America didn't exist. This will hopefully show some people out there that America is an important nation, and it effects more that most people would think. You'll see that in this fic. That is, if I decide to continue it. It will all depend on how well this chapter does with the readers. You guys.

Read, and enjoy! The full summary is below.

Summary: America had been insulted his whole life. The insults heightened after the Cold War, when the world's attention was drawn to his economy and his people. America cries nearly every night, but that doesn't matter. As long as people out there still love him, right? ... What will happen when America finally breaks down one night, after a particularly harsh meeting, and wishes that he was never born? How will the world work without their go-to man when he isn't around anymore?

Ancient Empires/Civilizations used. Holy Rome as his own person. FrUk, Canada/Ukraine, GerIta, one-sided Italy/HRE, might add more pairings later.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, those rights go to the creator of Hetalia, Hidekaz Himaruya. The OCs for the Ancients also don't belong to me, they belong to R-ninja on dA. Check him out!

Song of the Chapter: Invisible by Taylor Swift

Nonexistent

Chapter One: Who Are You?

America sighed. That was it. He wiped his eyes and got up, leaving the tear-soaked pillow behind him on the bed. He trudged into the bathroom, and washed his face with the sink. He looked at the mirror that was hanging above the sink.

He looked horrible. His eyes were bloodshot, and now that he had washed his face - or maybe it was the tears -, the foundation that he had put on that morning had been washed off, you could clearly see the black sags that were under his eyes. His hair was ruffled, and that damn cowlick still stuck straight up.

America sighed, and turned off the sink. The meeting that morning had been horrible, people throwing insults at him, left and right. Even his own twin, Mattie, had said he was stupid... Right in front of him, too.

Man, had that stung.

He hadn't gotten used to any of the insults that had been thrown at him, ever since he became the only superpower. Before then, he hadn't really cared, since the world's attention wasn't solely on him.

America sighed. "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't even born... Iggy would be happier, Canada would be able to be seen, and Russia might not scare the living shit out of everybody... Yeah..."

"Are you sure?" Said a small voice that America barely even heard.

Great, so now he was going crazy. America sighed, but decided to answer the fake voice. "Yeah, I mean, everyone would be so much happier."

"Then may your wish be granted, America."

America whirled at the voice he recognized. He saw Ancient Egypt, looking quite glum. She brought her thumb up and placed it on America's forehead. He crumpled, and the last thing he heard was: "Sweet dreams, my former nation...".

America woke up. He rubbed his head, and found that his hair didn't have clumps in it like it usually did. It was perfectly combed, as if he hadn't just woken up. America sighed, and reached for his glasses... To find air.

America then noticed that his glasses were on, so he looked around his surroundings. He was in a field, like the ones from his childhood. The sky was the same shade of blue as he remembered it, and even the grass was the same.

America smiled, and reached for the map in his bomber jacket... To find that his jacket wasn't there. Frantically, America looked down at himself to find that he was dressed in all white: white tee-shirt, white skinny jeans, even white converse.

America frowned, then stood up. What had happened last night? He had been crying... Then Egypt- Oh, Egypt! She had done this! She had... What had she done?

"She granted your wish, America." A familiar, but almost forgotten, voice said from behind him. Ancient Greece stood there, in pure white robes and with a white ribbon tying her curly brown hair up. Her hair was draped over her shoulder. Her tanned skin stood out against her all-white attire, but her skin also looked healthier than America could ever remember seeing it. Her green eyes shown with sadness.

America smiled widely. "Greece!" He cried, running over and enveloping the smaller woman in a hug. "It's been so long!"

Greece smiled faintly once America had stepped back. That's when America knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong, Greece?" America asked, trying not to freak out.

"America... Or should I say Alfred... You don't exist."

America stared at the Ancient civilization. How could he not exist? He was the world's single superpower, for heaven's sakes!

Ancient Greece must have seen the must younger, former-country's confusion, because she sighed. "It is hard to explain, child. Come, let's go to the convening of the Ancients. They will decide your fate."

America frowned. He didn't like the sound of that. Nonetheless, he followed Ancient Greece through a doorway that had appeared next to her.

What he saw in the room was complete chaos. In front of him, Greece's attire had changed to her usual white robes, sandals, and gold sash. In front of her, was a long table full of fighting men and women. America walked through the doorway, and suddenly felt familiar fabric on his arms. He smiled. One good thing came of this nightmare, at least.

Greece walked into the room, and walked up to a man that America didn't recognize. He had wavy brown hair, armor, a skirt, and a long cape. He saw America, and turned to a man beside him.

This new man reminded America of Germany. He had significantly longer hair, though, (with a braid in it), and was wearing green robes/armor. He had a bow slung across his shoulder, and a quiver that was hanging from his back. He even had the piercing blue eyes that America had grown used to.

The man turned to the table. "Shut up and sit down." He said loudly, but not loudly enough to be considered yelling.

Everyone sat down. Greece smiled at America, then went and sat down between an empty seat and a grumpy-looking man that also had on armor. He had long, wavy brown hair that was tied back into a ponytail, and light brown eyes. He had a curl that stuck up on the top of his head

America stood awkwardly as everyone but him and the original guy with armor - America could swear he knew him from somewhere! - sat down. He looked around, and America noticed that he also had multiple curls bouncing around his head, and that he had brownish/goldish eyes.

"Where's Egypt?" He asked in a thick Italian accent. America suddenly recognized him as the Roman Empire. America had the urge to go over and shake his hand, but he deduced that then was not the time for that.

The blonde from earlier crossed his arms. "Probably still taking care of wiping memories and redo-ing history. It's a trivial process, you know."

Rome nodded. "Thank you, Germania. Now, does anyone have any suggestions on what to do with this here former-nation?"

Rome gestured at him, and all eyes turned to him. America recognized a few people in the crowd of faces. His ancient brothers, Aztec, Maya, and Inca, who were all wearing traditional clothes from their respective tribes. His mother, Native America, was wearing her usual deerskin dress and had a basket over her shoulder that was filled with corn.

Someone with wild, blonde hair and blue eyes raised their hand. "I say that as long as it involves violence, we should do it." The woman that had spoken up was wearing a warrior's uniform with a green cape

Someone else rolled their eyes. This new person had brown skin, black hair, and deep blue eyes. He wore gold arm things on both of his arms that ran from his middle forearm to his wrist, white robes, a red cape, and sandals that laced all the way up to his knee. He had a knife sheathed at his side. "That's ridiculous, Gaul. I do say, however, that we show the boy some kind of punishment."

"I agree with Carthage." The grumpy man with the armor from earlier said. "The boy needs punishment, violent or otherwise."

Native America frowned, and she flicked her black hair over her shoulder. "Byzantine and Carthage, you two have always wanted punishment for everyone that has set foot in here. I say we let the boy go, and live on with his old life."

Fighting broke out after that. Half of the room wanted to punish America, and the other half wanted him to be set free.

Rome stood up. "How about a vote?"

Egypt had arrived before he stood up, and she had sat down in her seat after setting her gold eyes on America in a sad look. She wore her usual robes, with the gold chains in her hair that she normally had, also with the gold jewelry.

Rome had managed to calm the room down enough to get them to vote. "Okay, I prepose two options."

Everyone looked at him. He seemed used to the attention. "The first is that we kill the boy here and now - end his suffering before it begins."

America stared at him as murmurs of agreement arose from some people, including the Gaul chic.

Rome shushed the room. "The second is that we let the boy see the new world with a guide, and if he can find one person that isn't happier without him, then he and the world can go back to the way it was before his wish."

More murmurs. America smiled on the inside. He hoped this one got chosen. Someone would be sadder without him, right?

"Let us start the vote. All for killing America?" Three hands went up. They were from Byzantine, Carthage, and Gaul. "All for showing him the new world?" The other hands all went up.

"It is decided then." Germania said, standing up as Rome sat down. "We need a volunteer, then, to guide this American through the new world."

There was a silence, then a teenage boy stood up. He wore a black hat that kinda looked like a pirate hat, long black robes, and had a cross hanging from his chest. He had blonde hair, and bright blue eyes that looked a lot like Germany's, too.

"I volunteer." He said.

Germania looked at the boy, and nodded. "Holy Rome, you shall show America the new world. If you find a person who is happier when he is around, then you bring him to the field. Otherwise, bring him here and we will decide how to kill him."

Holy Rome nodded. He walked over to America, grabbed his wrist, and led him out of the door.

Yes, Holy Rome is his own person. He did not turn into Germany. You may now assult me with tomatoes. *sheilds face*

Anyway, this is a complete experiment, and if you guys don't want me to continue it, I won't. Leave you opinion in a review, or PM me. Or just follow it, I'll take that as a 'please continue, I'll be waiting'.

Thanks for reading. Reviews are welcomed, but not required!

~PurpleLuna98