Disclaimer: The Hetalia manga and anime series do not belong to me
Themes 1-10
1 - Birth
Her very first memory is of her brothers looking down at her. Three pairs of green eyes, all similar yet also widely different, stare at her from above. She is too young to read the emotions in their eyes, too young to understand the conflict happening in their hearts. Then a hand reaches down and encircles her own, the contact is foreign and new like everything else in the world. Stretching her neck back she meets another pair of green eyes only these are a deeper colour, which she will one day see again in the forests that stretch out across her land and when she looks into a mirror.
She looks around the eyes at the face they're in; pale skin, long blonde hair and a smile that makes the child feel warm and comforted. If she knew what one was she'd probably call the figure an angel. Another hand reaches to her face and brushes her cheek gently. She can't describe that feeling exploding inside of her, she only knows that it is strongly connected to this woman with her kind smile.
Yet something doesn't feel right. There is a heaviness around them and it feel like she'd being suffocated. She doesn't like this feeling and tears start to roll down her cheeks; please someone get rid of it. A pale finger wipes away her tears and if anything the woman's eyes get even brighter.
"Oh my dear girl, do not cry for me. It is my time to go and your time will soon begin. I'm sure you'll be amazing. I'm so glad I got to see you before I went." The voice is soft and kind like everything else about her but the child doesn't like the words she somehow understands and she begins to cry again. The woman wipes them away with a now fading hand and looks up to say something to the three boys. The kind smile flashes once again and then disappears.
On the day she was born her mother died to give her life, on that day she first felt both love and loss.
2 - Enthusiasm
Rome stared at the little girl sat in front of him. The savage little nation had fought him tooth and nail ever since he'd stepped foot on that island of hers, and her brothers were just as big a headache as her. Without a doubt Britannia was the most stubborn, cross, moody country that he'd ever met. It would have been so much easier if she had been like one of his precious grandsons who were both adorable! Alas she had proven to be more trouble than she was worth but since the Emperor was determined to have all of her and her brothers land he was in charge of her. He had the bite marks on his hands to prove it.
Yet now she was practically bouncing off the walls with joy, he idly wondered if someone had drugged his wine again but shook his head. What on earth could have caused the feral little girl to smile like that? The green eyes that always glared up at him burning with anger were now alight with happiness, the mouth that only seemed to frown was now pulled up in a blinding smile and the sullen miserable air around her was suddenly buzzing and full of energy, he didn't understand it.
Suddenly seeming to notice his presence she spun around to meet his gaze. The light on her face dampened but didn't go out. Instead she marched up to him and thrust something in the surprised empires hands.
"Wha-?"
"Look." She barked, back to normal then eh? He was about to scold her for her attitude when his eyes fell on the thing she'd given (thrown) at him. It was a simple piece of plaster only it had figures scrawled into it. His eyes widened, it was Latin, he focused on the childish letters and was able to make out a sentence.
"Rome is stupid." He beamed down at the little nation who was now looking at him with a smug grin. "That's amazing you're learning to read and write." She nodded proudly. "Well do you want any he-." He paused and re-read her very first sentence again.
"Hey!"
3 - Love
England sighs and swallows the aspirin in her hand. Another Commonwealth meeting, another few days full of headaches, screaming, arguing, fighting and general chaos surrounded by her former colonies. Yippee. She could hear Scotland and Wales arguing from the hotel room next to hers and she's 90% sure that India has stolen the keys to her car judging from the screaming outside.
She rolled onto her back and prepared to have a nap for a couple of hours before the "family dinner" began. Some rest was needed after that agonizingly slow flight. Not many people knew it but she hated flying with a passion and would have preferred to come by boat but it would have taken too long. Travelling usually left her tired so she closed her eyes to go to sleep.
"Hey Pommy this is no time for sleeping. You haven't said hello to everyone yet." One eye cracked open to see the smiling face of Australia hovering over her. Screaming into her pillow she turned to glare at the cheery nation and made a shooing motion with her hand.
"Aw don't be like that, everyone wants to see you." She glared again and turned on her side so he was facing her back. "OK you asked for this then." Dread pooled in her stomach and she started to turn around, only to yelp as a pair of arms encircled her waist and yanked her squealing out of the bed.
"What on earth do you think you're doing Australia?" She yelped as she was unceremoniously pulled out of bed. For the millionth time she cursed being so slight and small and thumped the much larger and physically stronger country on the chest.
"Taking you to see your family." He said plainly and continued to carry her bridal style down the stairs.
"And why would I want to see them? All you lot ever do is cause me headaches and bruises." Australia beamed down at her again. For a second, just a second she was struck by how much he'd grown. The little wild boy she'd first met had grown up into a strong, independent and admittedly handsome country. A faint streak of red dusted her cheeks and she whipped her head forward so that he didn't see. She did have some dignity left after all.
"Because you love us." He said confidently in a tone that allowed no room for argument. She huffed and didn't meet his gaze. Australia laughed and carried on holding her. She was never one to display her feelings openly but he understood her anyway.
4 - Hate
The whistles sounded all along the trenches of the Front Line. As one an entire wave of men scrambled out of the mud and started to run towards the enemy with only their guns for protection. From their lips came a fierce cry; a cry of courage, of battle, of patriotism and of fear. They moved forward as one, prepared to fight for king and country.
Only to get shot down by a hail of machine gun fire.
The cry turned to individual screams as men fell to the ground. Dead. Some tried to turn back to their own trenches, to escape the certain death before them. They were pushed back, their commanders forced them back towards the enemy, towards the guns, towards death. The lucky ones found a hole in the mud to shelter in until the massacre was over.
England saw it all. For the first time in a while hot, angry tears started to fall from her eyes and her chest seemed full of something dark and strong. Her hand was clenched so tightly that her nails had dug into her skin and blood was slowly dripping down her hand.
She wanted it to be her blood out there in the mud not theirs. Not her men. She had been in battle before but not like this, never like this. Turning around her eyes sought something to unleash her hate on something.
Germany? No, he was just another country in this pointless war. Another warrior on the field. Who then? Turning away from the battlefield her eyes went beyond the lines of trenches to the fancy mansion a few miles from the mud and carnage. There, the "finest" leaders of her military sat round the dining table eating rich food and drinking white wine. The men who had ordered her soldiers to go over the top.
The men whom she hated.
5 - Triumph
Her blade cut through the sailor in front of her, she could hear the yells form her men as they swarmed the ship. The Spanish crew were being pushed put of their own ship as her pirates swarmed over them. She laughed amidst the fighting, exhilaration crashing over her in a wave. She'd done it, she'd finally proved to them that she was strong enough to stand with the rest of them. How many times had they ridiculed her for being too small, too weak to be an important country? No more.
An unfortunate soul tried to stab her from behind but too late, her sword was already in his gut. Laughter threatened to spill out of her mouth and a huge smile adorned her face.
Then she saw him.
Standing there, as his men were pushed back and killed by her own, was the Spanish Empire. He was one of the strongest powers in the world at the moment and she'd just beaten him soundly. Victory tasted very sweet. Yet there was something off about the way he was looking at her. Something was burning in those olive eyes apart from anger, something that was entirely focused on her.
Apart from that his entire face was blank and it unsettled her slightly. Spain was a very emotional country whether he was angry or happy, the blankness of his face was wrong. What was he feeling? What was that emotion in her enemies eyes; recognition, obsession, interest or something different? Somehow she knew that this was the start of something between them be it rivalry or not.
For now she turned back and jumped back into the fray, content for the moment to savour her victory.
6 - Feel
Portugal watched with bored eyes as his boss finished drawing up the new treaty: a promise of peace between him and England. Truth be told he didn't know much about the northern country, only bits he'd heard from his brother, France and some other European nations. Apparently she was meant to be an angry, uncivilised barbaric woman whom he would find nothing in common with. At least that was what he'd heard, he hadn't actually seen her yet as it had mainly been there bosses who had met. Call him odd but he preferred to make his own opinions of people rather than rely on others. If anything he was interested to meet one of the few female nations in the world.
"Will someone tell me where the hell he is so we can get this thing over with!" He started at the voice that cut through the silence he had been enjoying, it was unmistakeably a woman's voice. The door was thrown open and a figure marched into the room.
He blinked, a little thrown by her appearance; she was tiny, only coming up to his shoulder yet her presence filled up the entire room drawing every eye in the room towards her. Long blonde hair that fell to her waist was haphazardly tied back in a pony-tail with little strands shooting off in every direction, her skin was quite pale though her cheeks were flushed red with anger, or perhaps annoyance. Her clothes were surprisingly plain in both style and colour; mainly dark blues, green and browns. She didn't wear any jewellery or make-up that he could see and her stance screamed aggression.
"I'm over here Miss England." He called out in her language and she whipped round to see him. Portugal's eyes widened now that he had a clear view of her face. Large green eyes stared back, they were set in a slight, elf-like face with delicate features and a soft mouth. He knew she'd be stunning if she smiled. He stood up and approached her, a friendly smile on his face.
"I'm sorry to have made you wait, please forgive me." That seemed to throw her a little and some of the tension seemed to drain out of her.
"I-It's alright. Just don't let it happen again." He smiled again and nodded.
"Well, I can't disappoint a beautiful woman now can I?" His voice held nothing but honesty, and it was that more than anything that caused her to flush red again, only this time it wasn't with anger. It was quite cute he decided, the way her face seemed to show everything she felt. Yes, this was a most promising beginning.
7 - Wrecked
September 1940 - another raid on London by the Luftwaffe.
Canada gaped at the damage around him. He'd come across on one of the convoys to see how England was doing. The pictures had been bad enough but seeing it in reality was far worse. It was dark but the city could be easily seen as bombs illuminated the streets and roads making it even easier for the next wave of bombers. Rubble was everywhere and the emergency services were stretched to the limit.
Against the skyline St Paul's Cathedral still stood, proud and erect as the city burned. The North-American country could see people everywhere, but he couldn't see her anywhere. Closing his eyes he reached for the link that connected him to her, the link that every nation under her care felt. There! Without stopping to speak to his men he ran off into the city, hoping that she was OK. Kumajirou watched as his master ran off into the smoke and fire of London.
He found his way to a small house which had had its roof blown off by a bomb. Soot and ash caused him to cough and with a burst of energy he broke down the door with his shoulder.
"England, England are you here?" No answer. He rubbed his eyes, looking for any sign of life in the abandoned building. Fear and helplessness was making him frantic. Where was she?
A single cough made him go still.
"C-C-Canada?" The voice was weak and weary but his knees nearly buckled in relief because it was hers. She was curled up in one of the corners covered in dust and ash. Her hair was knotted, untidy and untamed and her eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep. Patches of her skin were burnt and scarred from the raids and her breathing was laboured, but she was still alive.
He gently reached down to pick her up and was shocked at how light she felt. It was so jarring to see her like this, throughout his life she had always been a strong, no invincible figure but at the moment...She must have seen something in his face because she scowled and lightly flicked his forehead.
"I'm not dead yet my boy. That Kraut has another thing coming if he thinks that this will finish me off." Despite the situation he smiled, he should have known she'd get back up again.
8 - Soft
OK, so this was a little awkward. The little Asian nation currently staring at her was even more reserved than Japan. England was used to dealing with loud boisterous nations and this silent child was unnerving her. Hong Kong hardly spoke at all and had developed a habit of following her around when she was at home. It had nearly given her a heart-attack on several occasions to turn around and see him standing there staring at her with those calm brown eyes.
So a little fed up one day she had sat the boy down and asked him what he wanted from her, which had lead to the current staring match. For someone who treasured peace and quiet it was odd that the quiet boy unsettled her, but she would not be beaten by a child. Brown eyes blinked. Green eyes blinked and the silence carried on.
Gah! This was killing her. One of them had to do something to get rid of the tension and she sucked at that. Social interaction was hardly her strong point. Letting out a sigh she opened her mouth to speak.
"Look kid, I can't do anything if you don't tell me what you want." That at least got a reaction out of him, he looked away from her and she could barely make out a shade of red on his cheeks. No way, he couldn't be...
"You're shy aren't you?" The red became more pronounced and he gave a jerky nod. It was, dare she say it, cute and it explained a couple of things. She placed her hand on his head and ruffled his hair, making him look a little less perfect and a little more like a child.
"Well that's fine. I'll wait until you're ready to talk then and if you want to carry on following me around I guess that's OK too. Just make a little noise or something so I know you're there OK?"
He was staring at her again. Though this time his eyes weren't quite so calm and his mouth may have trembled a little. So she smiled, that rare smile she used when one of her colonies was scared or frightened and she wanted them to know that she'd keep them safe. It was one of the few times when she actually let her guard down and to Hong Kong she looked amazing.
An affirmative head nod later and England went back into her house with Hong Kong trailing after her.
Years later when another box of fireworks exploded in her living-room she started to regret asking him to make noise when she was in the room.
9 - Cold
The sun rose on another day and a chill settled over both sides of the battlefield. England pressed up against the trench wall, desperately trying to keep her hands warm from the bitter chill. She may not be human but she could damn well still feel the cold. The soldier next to her was taking a drink of something out of his flask and offered it to her.
"Cheer up ma'am, it's not Christmas everyday you know." Christmas, was it really that time already? So much for everyones predictions. That probably explained why the frog had been so eager to leave the Front, well more eager than usual. So this was to be her Christmas then? Another day of mud, gunfire and death in France. She glanced over at the flask offered to her and shrugged. She might as well, it was Christmas after all. The alcohol stung her throat and reminded her vividly of what Scotland would drink and then pour into her mouth. Trying to ignore the fierce stab of homesickness and longing that came with the memory she stretched her stiff legs and prepared for another watch.
Then something extraordinary happened. Across from No-Man's land came the sound of singing. She couldn't quite make out the words but the tune was definitely "Silent Night".
"What the bloody hell is that?" Someone asked and another man poked his head over the trench, just a little to see what was going on.
"It's the Huns, they're singing Christmas carols!" England couldn't have been more surprised if Germany had come over to surrender. They were singing? It seemed crazy but it was true. The soldier whom had offered her the flask gave out a laugh and turned to the rest of the men.
"Well, we can't let them think we're too tired to sing now can we lads?" There was general negative muttering and with that the soldier started to sing "Amazing Grace" in quite a loud voice. England watched as the singing seemed to spread down the line until the whole front trench was filled with the sound of Christmas carols.
Not a single bullet or shell was fired.
She watched as her men tentatively climbed up on to No-Man's land and walked across to meet the German soldiers. She watched as parcels of food, wine and even clothing were chucked by both sides to the other. She watched as for one day in the entire war the guns were silent. Frowning she heard the commanding officers scream at their men to desist and fire at the enemy, but she knew that they wouldn't.
Making up her mind she put down her gun and pulled herself up out of the trenches. A thin layer of snow covered the ground and her boots crunched in it. He had to be somewhere, ah she could hear him talking to one of his soldiers.
"Hey Germany, you going to come out or not?" For a couple of moments there was silence before a blonde head slowly came out of the ground.
"England? Was are you doing?"
"What's it look like I'm doing? I need someone to talk to and France isn't hear to insult."
Wow she had actually confused him. Her lip twitched into something of a smile and she waited for him to come out.
A few minutes later they were walking along No-Man's land watching their soldiers. Some were playing football, some were burying the dead. She saw an English priest doing small ceremonies for both her men and Germany's. Elsewhere gifts were being exchanged. They were buttons, helmets and cigarettes; nothing fancier than a nice scarf. A cough to her right caused her to turn and see Germany holding out a scarf. Her face must have been confused because he looked up to the sky and didn't meet her gaze.
"You, ah, looked quite cold." Slowly she took the scarf and ran her fingers over the material, it was quite thick and would doubtlessly keep her warm. Lost for a second she shook her head and reached into her coat for the flask that the soldier had given her.
"Here, you might want this more than I do. I should warn you it feels like swallowing fire." He nodded and took the flask form her. She turned back to continue watching the extraordinary event happening in front of her.
10 - Without
"I present to you the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland." She looked down at the fragile piece of paper which had finalised it. She would the representative for her brothers, the one that would be called Britain. If she was honest she preferred England if only because Britain reminded her of that idiot Rome. A gasped choke behind her caused her to glance back, only for her eyes to open in horror.
On the floor in various state of pain were Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. Each of them had gone deathly pale and Wales was struggling to breathe. Scotland was struggling to stand and clutching his stomach whilst North was ice cold to the touch.
She'd seen this happening once before.
Her heart seemed to stop and terror like she'd never known before filled her heart.
"No." She whispered. Even through his pain Scotland managed a laugh, though it looked more like a grimace.
"Oh yes sis. They only need one ta be the United Kingdom, not four." He winced and let out a groan. Part of his hand was starting to fade.
She looked at her twin. Wales managed a weak grin. "I'm sure you'll be fine chwaer." She shook her head. No they couldn't leave her, not now that Ireland had left them. She sank down to her knees and grasped her brothers hand. North was staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes as the lower part of his body started to disappear.
"Look after them OK." Wales said as his body too started to fade. Unable to do anything she watched them start to fade, to die. Her head shook in denial, this couldn't be happening. Her brothers had always been there sometimes as enemies others as allies but always there.
"NO!" She screamed sitting bolt upright in her bed. Gasping she looked around, the ice cold fear of the dream still flooding her system blurring reality.
Still shaking she threw off the sheet and bolted out of her room, praying that it had not been a memory. Bursting into the kitchen her eyes took in the scene in front of her. All three of them were there staring at her with undisguised shock and, minus Scotland, concern.
"What on earth happened to you chwaer?" Letting out a laugh she launched herself at him and nearly strangled him with a hug. They were alive, and looking even more worried Wales slowly hugged back. He frowned at the other two, mainly Scotland.
"OK, what did you do to her?"
"I did nae do anything to the brat!"
"Me neither!"
She only laughed harder and turned to hug North, he was slightly better than Wales but still acted as if she was about to turn on him and bite his head off. Wales was arguing with Scotland who soon became the third victim. With a huff he pushed her back.
"Now wha-" The redhead paused when he actually looked at his sisters eyes. They were red and suspiciously wet, they were pleading with him. Something had scared her, badly. Letting out another groan he let her hug him.
"I'm going tae use this against you forever ye know that."
"Uh huh." She nodded. She didn't care how annoying, hurtful, infuriating and very rarely sweet they were. When it came to living with them or without it was no choice at all.
AN: I'm back! All I can say is that I'm going through some pretty important changes in my life this year so I've not been able to write for a while. This is 10 out of 100 themes about FEMEngland and the various states and emotions she goes through her life. There will be hints of pairings in some, tell me if you want more romance or less and I'll see what I can do. If you want a certain moment of history or country tell me too. Thank you all for being so patient and I'm going to try and update my other stories soon. Hope you enjoy and please wait for more! Hope I haven't lost my touch.
P.S. Still looking for Beta, it's been a while so I'm asking again. PM me if you're interested.
