I do not own Hetalia. There, got that out of the way, now on to the story.
England stars at the person in the mirror and wonders when everything had gotten so complicated. When had she stopped being able to recognize her reflection? When had she become so afraid someone would find out? Why was she STILL hiding?
But out of all of her questions one hurt the most…
Why had no one figured it out yet?
Sure, she had a few close calls… And the Roman Empire had known, a shiver runs down her spine at the thought of that man. Those four hundred years were not a favorite time in her life… If she had a favorite time in her life at all.
America is forever going on about how she…no, HE never smiles.
She has no reason to. She never did, not anymore.
England's hand goes up to the straw wig she always wears in the presence of other countries and takes it off. Hair the color of liquid flame spilling gracefully down her back to her knees. She takes out her emerald green tinted contact lenses to reveal lifeless eyes the green color of nuclear waste. Eyes that lost their innocence and hope so long ago and have seen so much death and destruction that they have just given up on everything.
Washing the make up off her face reveals two sets of four scar lines that form a series of x's over the right side of her face. Much like someone had dragged something similar, but definitely sharper, to a large fork through her face including her eye and mouth. Bags from lack of sleep also make their presence known underneath her eyes. Their home right above a collection of freckles that cross over the bridge of her nose going from one cheek to the other.
As she unbuckles her belt to take off her shirt she purposefully avoids looking in the bathroom mirror any longer.
Mirrors don't last very long in her house and she had just gotten this one.
Stripping off the rest of her clothing revels gauze wrapped expertly around her chest so tightly it brings the question of how she can even breathe to mind. Her whole body is covered in so many scars even the most battle-numbed soldier would flinch.
And she remembers the story of every single one.
The old, the new, the ones in various stages of infection due to her inability to see the point in cleaning them properly. She can tell you about them all.
Amidst other burns that blemish her skin, on her back you can kind of make out what was once a burned imprint of angel wings, now torn apart and ruined by her other injuries, Between her hipbone next to her belly button is another burnt image, this one of the Roman Empire's flag. The one and only country she will ever belong to.
The only other country that knows one of her secrets and drove her to others.
Evidence of her second most guarded secret is displayed on both of her wrists, the reason why she can never wear short sleeves in the summer. You can also count all twenty-one of her ribs easily.
Slipping into one of Scotland's t-shirts should have made her look adorable…
It makes her look as if she were standing on Death's doorstep. She is… and she waits none to patiently for him to answer his door and let her in. Over eight thousand years have taken their toll on her and NEVER has it shown her even an ounce of kindness,,,
Marjorie Alice Kirkland, Personification of England
Representative of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, ,
Younger sister of
Alistair James Kirkland, Personification of Scotland
Seamus Aaron O'Connor, Personification of the Republic of Ireland
And Cmyru Bryn Kirkland, Personification of Whales
Mother of
Patrick Seamus Kirkland-O'Connor, Personification of Northern Ireland
And Peter Wallace Kirkland, Personification of Sealand
Adoptive mother of one third of the world's countries.
Stands in the middle of her bathroom clad in only a far to large t-shirt and wonders…
Why was she even created?
I was thinking of dong a fic were the countries take turns finding out that Arthur was female and how they deal/react to that knowledge. Reviews are always welcome and will determine how soon this is updated along with how it progresses along the way.
First obsticle: Who will find out first?
France
Scotland
Wales
Northern Ireland
Republic of Ireland
Romano
Or I can do a chapter on either
How the Roman Empire found out.
I might do a whole other story on his time in her life. Four hundred years is a long time to work with.
Or
How England got her actual human name.
Bye for now.
Might Be Continued….