This idea has been tugging at my mind FOREVER, and I just had to write it! xD This is England x Ireland, my OC. Hope you enjoy! Who knows, maybe I'll write a sequel for the Irish Civil War... ^^
OF SELKIES AND CEASEFIRES
"Why can't you understand?" Keiran cried as she fell to one knee, trembling from the pain of her injuries. Her face was smudged with dirt and blood, and blood tricking from the numerous bullet and blade wounds on her body stained her uniform. Her blood, the blood of her people, the blood of an entire nation. "ALL I WANT IS MY FREEDOM!"
Arthur had heard those words before, but he had never once expected to hear them coming from this girl, of all people. And yet here she was, on the verge of succumbing to injuries he had caused and staring at him with those same resentful, ungrateful eyes that Alfred once had.
He hated it.
But he hated hurting her more.
"That's enough, Keiran!" he shouted back at her. "This has to end!"
"W-what do you mean, 'enough'?" she snapped back. "I-I'm nowhere near victory…I-I can't lose to the likes of you! Too many have died for me to give up!"
"And if I struck one more blow at you right now, you'd probably die too!" he countered. "You're not doing your people any favors by getting yourself killed! We can't fight anymore – it's not worth it! I call ceasefire!"
Keiran gasped as she clutched at a wound in her side, using her other hand to steady herself.
"What's the point of that now? It's not like I can shoot you in the state I'm in, bastard," she managed to hiss out, collapsing to the ground…
It was 1921, Dublin outskirts, dusk.
Arthur Kirkland stood at the front of his strictly-lined column of troops, staring at the pale, freckled black haired girl across from him, hand on her hip and staring at him with dark emerald eyes, with her group of guerilla warriors behind her. There appeared not to be a great difference in age between said girl and the blonde, green-eyed man – there was perhaps three, four years' difference between them – but the man's young adult appearance and the girl's teenage appearance were merely illusions, for they were older than any of the living humans standing with them. They were, in fact, nations.
She wasn't even her own country until two years ago, Arthur, the embodiment of the United Kingdom, thought as he discreetly clenched his fists at his sides. He could feel his eyes narrowing at the dark girl, and she glared back at him all the harder. Damn it all! How did it come to this, Ireland? How?
He had lost one of his most loyal states only two years prior, the British State of Ireland and the girl who embodied it.
Keiran…why? Tell me that! WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!
Even her name was a slap in the face to his authority. Keiran Laighean. Even after his empire had defeated Ireland's mother, the ancient nation Ériu, and England had claimed Ireland for his own, she had chosen to keep her surname – the name of a royal family of her mother's Celtic nation – rather than take up a British name. He could come up with a million reasons more why Keiran was an ungrateful and rebellious turncoat, but he feared that if he continued to think about them, he would lose his temper completely and ruin any chance for resolution this conflict had.
This was the reason the two armies had agreed to meet in the heartland of Ireland today. It was time to try and put an end to this bloodbath.
England took a slow step forward, and it seemed that every man present ceased his breath. Ireland's army tensed, discreetly laying their hands on the weapons at their sides, ready to move at the first sign of any mischief from Arthur. Keiran turned and made a lowering motion with her hand.
"At ease."
The soldiers removed their hands from their firearms, but seemed to keep their muscles coiled and ready for action. As Ireland joined England in walking slowly and cautiously towards each other, the British Empire couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of admiration at her army's display of loyalty and protection towards his former state. He would expect a band of ragtag fighters such as the likes of them to be less caring, but instead they looked at Keiran as if they were knights defending their queen. They would rather risk death than allow for any harm to be brought against their nation…their leader…their hope…
Stop thinking like that! It's her own bloody fault that this war started in the first place! She attacked me! Why should I feel any sympathy for her?
That nagging voice in the back of his mind reminded him:
If you didn't feel any sympathy for her, why didn't you just shoot her when you had the chance? Perhaps because she's the closest thing you've had to a sister…because you still care for her well-being…because you love her…
At last, the two nations stopped just short of each other. The slightest shuffling of a soldier's feet could be heard in the stark silence.
"The gentleman usually makes the first move, England," Ireland said in her iconic sweet accent, but completely devoid of any emotion.
Arthur winced. He wasn't used to her calling her by the name of his empire…she had always called him "Arthur" or "brother" or…anything like that, really…
"I'm well aware of that, Ireland," he replied in an equally flat voice. "Although I believe that the one who initiated this bloody conflict should be the one to end it."
"Oi, watch yer mouth, you Brit!" an Irish soldier from the group behind Keiran burst out boldly. "We won' allow any disrespect towar' the Lady of Eire unless ye wan' a bullet between the eyes, ye got tha'?"
"At ease, soldier!" Keiran snapped at the young man, who quickly fell back into line but looked unabashed.
Ireland turned her attention back to England, agreeing to his term of the initiator of the war ending it and holding out her hand.
"I, Keiran Laighean, as the Republic of Ireland and the representative of its people, propose a mutual armistice between the armies of the Republic of Ireland and the United Kingdom of Great Britain, to take effect from this day forward until an agreement for peace is reached or war is deemed fit to resume. This truce shall not be counted as a surrender of the Republic of Ireland to the United Kingdom. Do you accept these terms?"
England stood silent for a few moments, letting her words sink in, before grasping her hand and saying:
"I, Arthur Kirkland, as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and the representative of its people, agree to the terms of armistice between the Republic of Ireland and the United Kingdom, this eleventh day of July, year 1921."
A chorus of loud cheers erupted from the British troops, but the Irish army didn't make a sound. Keiran turned to her troops and shouted something to them in her native Gaelic – then it was their turn to cheer.
"Go home to your families and get some rest, the lot of you," Arthur ordered his troops, not unkindly, while trying to ignore the din of the Irishmen on the opposite side of the clearing. "We need to savor this period of peace for as long as we can."
"Yes, sir!" the army saluted.
Keiran must have dismissed her troops as well, for soon, small crowds of Britons and Irishmen were emptying out of the area, either stark silent or chatting excitedly about what might happen next. It didn't take Arthur long to notice that Keiran was remaining completely stationary. She exchanged handshakes and waves, farewells and Gaelic blessings with her soldiers as they passed, but otherwise she didn't move. It wasn't until the last of the troops cleared out that the two nations were completely alone in that dark clearing on the outskirts of Dublin.
The silence hung suspended in the air, until Arthur broke it.
"I suppose this means it's over for the time being, doesn't it, sister?"
Keiran didn't respond, instead reaching up and removing her deep green military cap from her head and letting it fall to the ground. A dark curtain of black fell from the knot she had kept her hair twisted in to keep it out of the way during combat.
To be completely honest, Arthur hadn't seen Keiran in anything besides the military uniform of the Irish Republican Army for three years.
He hadn't seen his little sister outside of battle for three years.
England was so busy pondering on this fact that he almost didn't notice when he heard Ireland sob.
"Wha…Keiran, what is it?" he asked, concerned for the first time during this whole ordeal. Keiran was shaking, her breath coming in hiccupping gasps.
Even in the midst of war, some things hadn't changed between England and Ireland. It had always torn Arthur to shreds to see Keiran upset…
This is war, England reminded himself. I'm not supposed to pity my enemy…
But…
"Keiran…come here…"
That was all the encouragement the Irishwoman needed. She practically flew from where she stood and flung herself into Arthur's awaiting arms. The strong, stoic Keiran capable of leading an army of rebels against his nation had been reduced to a crying, frightened young girl.
"Mo dheartháir..." she whispered between sobs into his uniform jacket. "Cronaím thú…cronaím thú!"
My brother, I miss you! she was saying.
"I missed you, too," Arthur whispered back, allowing one of his hands to run itself through her long hair and the other tracing soft circles on her lower back in an attempt to stop her tears. He couldn't stop himself from letting out a humorless chuckle. "Three years, and I spent half of it being angry with you and the other half worried sick about how you were doing."
His next question wasn't intentional, he swears to this day – it just slipped out and he couldn't stop himself.
"Keiran, why did you leave? I don't understand why…"
This time it was Keiran's turn to laugh through her tears. She pulled away from England's chest slightly and looked up at him with green eyes glassed over with the aftermath of recently shed tears. "Well, the whole point of that ceasefire was to not shoot each other and talk things over…so…shall we talk?"
Arthur nodded. "Let's."
The soft sound of the Irish Sea crashing against the cliffs on which the two nations were seated and the soft moonlight illuminating the white rocks below were perfect compliments to each other. Arthur and Keiran's weapons had been laid a distance away, along with Ireland's deep green uniform jacket bearing the golden wings emblem of the IRA, leaving her in only a white dress shirt (of which she had kept the top two buttons undone) and deep green pants tucked into brown boots. England couldn't help but think that with her hair down and with most of her recognizable uniform gone, she looked…normal again. Not normal as in plain – on the contrary, he thought the Irishwoman to be quite pretty – but just as he had imagined seeing her as for three years. Normal…peaceful.
Of course, he had his moments (or minutes, or hours, or days) filled with anger at Ireland for trying to break away from him, but the bare fact remained behind all of the politics and battles that England cared about her very much. He had often fantasized of her running back to him after one of the many battles of the war, saying she couldn't bear to be apart from him any longer and that she would never leave him again…
"Ya still want to know why I declared independence from you, Arthur?"
Damn it all. And he had just gotten to his happy place, too. But, yes, he wanted to know. And then maybe he could get some bloody peace of mind about this whole thing.
"Yes, I do."
Keiran sighed. "The best way I can think of to describe why is with an analogy from my own land…are you familiar with our legends about the selkies?"
He was a bit confused as to where she was going with this, but he did know about Ireland's folklore, having heard quite a bit of it while she was still living with him.
"I believe so…the stories tell of creatures that took the form of seals in the sea, but could change into beautiful women by shedding their skins. Am I correct?"
Keiran nodded. "Yes, you've got the concept well enough. One of the most common types of stories told about these creatures would usually entail a selkie woman changing into her human form, and then a man who desired her as a lover stealing her sealskin and hiding it. Since she isn't able to return to the sea without it, she remains with the man and marries him, often living happily with him for many years. However, her true home is the sea, and she always longs for it, consciously or not."
She paused, looking down and pushing a strand of dark hair behind her ear before continuing more quietly.
"But then the selkie woman ends up finding the skin again. When she does, neither chains of steel nor chains of love can keep her from the sea."
Arthur had a strange feeling he knew where Keiran was going with this story now. "And then…what does she do?"
"She leaves him and returns to her true home."
Her last sentence hung suspended in the air for a few moments.
She leaves him…and returns to her true home… Arthur thought, his eyes dropping from Keiran's and staring off into nothing.
She leaves him…
Arthur jumped a bit as Keiran placed her smaller hand over his. "Arthur, please…look at me."
He obeyed. The look in her emerald eyes was not unkind or rebellious, but simply honest.
"Arthur…when I was young and my mother Ériu fell to the British Empire and left me to embody Ireland in her stead, my sealskin was lost, you could say," she said quietly. "But at the time, I didn't care in the least. I loved you, Arthur…you were the big brother I never had, my protector, my comforter, my guide…I was happy with you."
England felt his throat clench, and he quickly attempted to regain control over himself.
"But then…but then you became so controlling. It wasn't like you were my brother anymore…it felt as if I was your servant. You ignored my people and I in our times of need…you did nothing to stop your king from invading and slaughtering so many of my civilians simply because of their religion…and then came the uprising in Dublin, and when your army killed so many more innocents. I knew things couldn't be like that any longer. Something wasn't right." She quickly raised her free arm to hastily wipe her dampening eyes with her shirt sleeve. "And that's when I found my sealskin again. I found a way home, where my people could be free and happy, and I took it. Nothing you did could have stopped me, because trying to draw me back in with the steel chains of victory in war…or even the chains of my love for you…neither of them could withstand the need for me to do whatever I had to do to make sure my people were free."
She was whispering now, silent tears now openly flowing down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Arthur…I truly am. Sometimes I wondered…whether or not I did the right thing, choosing to declare revolution. So many of my citizens stood by me, but so many of the others…they were angry with me. They told me that I was insane for rebelling…that things were fine the way they were…that I was destroying their way of life…but I couldn't…I simply couldn't let the ignorant live in peace while the rest of my people suffered…"
Keiran was trembling now, and Arthur suddenly felt the need to pull her in closer to him and make her pain disappear for good, but she had never been one to appreciate when she was interrupted while venting. "S-sometimes…during these past three years…I've felt like I was going to break apart…I wanted nothing more than to go back and be with you…where there would be n-no more f-fighting…no more having to look at my p-people falling d-dead all around me…"
With a despairing cry of defeat, Keiran let herself fall into Arthur's strong arms once again. The Englishman was only too happy to return the embrace, allowing her to bury her head into the crook of his neck. She shed no tears, but her desperation was apparent in how tightly she clung to him.
Throughout the entire duration of the war, England had thought that he was the victim of the situation…and all the while, Ireland had been suffering just as much, if not more, as he had been.
He truly was a selfish git, wasn't he?
"What did it feel like when Alfred separated from you, Arthur?" Keiran whispered, referring to her "little brother" America by his human name. "D-do you think he felt like he was leaving a part of himself behind…?"
Arthur remembered well how he himself had felt at Alfred's declaration of independence: Hurt. Betrayed. Snubbed. Abandoned. Cheated. (The same way he had felt when Keiran had declared her independence, in fact.)
"He may have," Arthur murmured to Keiran as the two nations continued to hold each other. "This has been hard on both of us, hasn't it, Keiran?"
Not giving her time to respond, he continued on, "I'm not saying either of us is free from the blame here – you were technically the one who attacked me first, after all – but I was the one who provoked you…perhaps we should just call it square for now, eh?"
Keiran laughed humorlessly. "I hope that wasn't to try and trick a surrender out of me, big brother."
Arthur growled a bit, sighing. "No, it wasn't, you suspicious little…gah. I just don't want us to be at odds through whatever happens during this ceasefire."
"You're worried about us being at odds when we're sitting here hugging in the middle of the night when we were trying to shoot each other this morning?"
"Oh, shut it," he sighed, but smiled all the same. "We both did what we thought we had to do for our cause…so, no matter who wins at the end of these proceedings, no hard feelings?"
Ireland smiled, shifting her position to curl up against her brother's side and closing her eyes. Arthur automatically brought an arm up to wrap around her shoulder. "None at all. I said those chains of love couldn't keep me from doing what was best for my people…I never said they would disappear."
That was it – that was what he had been longing to hear for so long. No matter who won, no matter what happened, she would still love him.
Suddenly, the girl resting against him didn't seem so much like his little sister anymore. She was a beautiful and strong young nation, and as much as Arthur hated to admit it, fully capable of looking after herself and making her own decisions. He wasn't prepared to give her up without a fight, but…on the off chance she did become officially independent from him…maybe, just maybe, she would be alright…
He gently traced the back of his hand down her lightly freckled cheek, wiping away a stray tear, and then tucked a lock of her black hair behind her ear fondly. "My little Ireland is growing up…"
Keiran laughed quietly, a true laugh this time, and she opened her eyes to look back into England's. "I'm glad you finally noticed."
It was almost as if those three years of war had never happened at all…perhaps it was as if they were no longer nations either. For a moment, they were simply Arthur and Keiran – friends estranged, siblings divided, who were at last coming to terms again, realizing that fighting would no longer do either of them any good, and remembering just how much they truly loved and cared for each other.
In spite of this, Arthur's smile faltered. While they were being honest, he may as well get one more confession out into the open. "I know this is selfish of me to say, but I'm…I'm still afraid of losing you, Keiran…I still don't want to give you up."
If not for your sake, then for mine…
Keiran's eyes seemed to sadden at his words, but she took his hand again and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "You'll never lose me, Arthur…at least not completely. Tá mo chroí istigh ionat…"
No sooner had the words left her mouth did her face flush dark red and she gasped, as if not believing what she had just said. Arthur had no clue what her reaction was all about – he hadn't understood the Gaelic phrase at the end of her sentence.
"Keiran, what is it?" he asked, more than a little confused. "What did that mean?"
"N-nothing!" Keiran stammered, avoiding his eyes. "I-it was nothing important at all…"
"Then why are you acting so bloody embarrassed about it?" he sighed. "Please, Keiran, with all the gut-spilling we've done tonight, what can it hurt to tell me?"
Her blush darkened even more, but she replied this time in the quietest of whispers:
"My heart is yours."
Neither of them spoke.
Oh. Oh.
Arthur found himself at a loss for words, but felt he had to say something – if only to console the poor girl who had been so distraught by her confession.
"How long?" he asked at last.
He wanted to know himself.
"For three years," Keiran whispered. She still didn't look up at him. "From the day I declared my independence and saw you as an equal for the first time."
She loved me…but had to fight me for the sake of her people…and I hurt her…
"You're in love with me?" he asked quietly.
Keiran nodded, drooping her head a bit as if ashamed. Arthur simply smiled, turning his body to face her and holding her close in a loving embrace.
"That's good," the Englishman chuckled. "It would've been incredibly awkward to have loved somebody all this time who only saw me as an older brother."
"A-Arthur?" Keiran gasped, apparently too stunned to return the hug. "Y-you…you really…"
"Yes, I do, you silly girl," he assured her, tightening his arms around her just a bit. "You needn't have thought that you needed to keep how you felt hidden…"
"B-but…but the IRA would have taken it as me siding with the loyalists – "
"Stop talking and look at me," he murmured suddenly, catching her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilting her head up to face him. Her cheeks were still flushed red and her eyes were wide, fearful but trusting. "Let's just…forget all of that. If only for tonight, don't worry about the loyalists or republicans or my people or…or anyone. We've cease-fired, so just this once…be selfish…"
He leaned forward to kiss away a tear that was forming in the corner of her eye.
"I love you, Ireland," he whispered into her skin. "And there's not a bloody thing anyone in charge of either of our countries can do about it."
He turned her to face him and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. The gesture was simple and chaste, but said so much more than words ever could. As the two pulled away from each other, they looked into each other's' eyes for a brief moment before Ireland returned Arthur's embrace, closing her eyes.
"No matter what happens…tá mo chroí istigh ionat," she repeated quietly. "Go síoraí."
My heart is yours. Forever.
England smiled. "And mine is yours."
The night air had become chillier – it must have been nearing midnight.
"I hope you realize," Arthur said after a brief silence, still smiling, "that this little turn of events is going to make me try even harder to win you back. I certainly hope you're up to the challenge, little selkie," he teased.
"Mm, I know," Keiran replied with a tiny smile, almost as if she knew something he did not. "But you're going to have to hide that sealskin really well to get me to give up, love."
Blow the wind, blow;
Swift and low;
Blow the wind o'er the ocean.
Breakers rolling to the coastline;
Bringing ships to harbor;
Gulls against the morning sunlight;
Flying off to freedom!
- "Scottish Lullaby"