Damn Those English Roses
Chapter 1: Key
The touch was soft beneath his hand, as it slid languidly across the pale and crimson purity. England reveled in the fact that this feeling was all his own. Faint pressure and warm breath played against the smooth flesh while tender, slight kisses were planted at perfect random. He sighe din sheer contentment, then lifted the watering can to his precious English roses.
"Morning, luvs." England smiled gracefully at the brilliant flowers as he gently showered them.
They were the most beautiful roses in the entire U.K. and England took an emmense amount of pride in them, watering them everyday he could and asking the faeries to treat them well anytime he was absent. One of the younger faeries, a pixie known as Demeter, had grown to love England's roses and, by combining, he powers of magic with his, had quite a postive effect on the blooms.
As England finished with the section to which he had been tending, Demeter skipped atop the breezes to his side. She beamed at him and he returned it cheerfully. Her gaze then drifted to the brilliance before them. She scooped up a handful of dew from a crimson rose and promptly took an ecsatic sip, squinting her eyes in excitment.
"Delicious, Athur!" She whirled around to face him and fluttered up to lay a peck on the tip of his nose.
England blushed at her sweet affection. He hadn't recieved much kindness from anyone, excepting Pity himself, since America claimed independence, and to have such a fond smile directed at him again brought joy to his heart. "Thank you. I'm very glad you enjoy it."
The pixie nodded enthusiasticly, silver wringlets bobbing in the tie of her ponytail with the motion. Her cupped hands extended quickly to England's lips. "Would you care for some?"
He chuckled and raised his index finger to her offer and nuged it away calmly. " No, thank you. I'm about to have my tea and I'd hate to spoil my appetite. Not to mention, I don't want to steal any from you if love it so. But please, if you wish, feel free to share it with the others."
"I might." Her petite face guised with mock-villany. "Then again I might not. Muah-hahahahaa!"
"D-Demeter," England twitched out at the frightening smile that was held on the pixie's features, "that-that evil thing... Yeah, I'm going to have to ask that you not do that, seeing as it kind of freaks me out a little."
He could almost hear the blinking of her round, lime eyes before she let out a hearty laugh. "Sorry, Arthur. I just can't get over the taste."
"Well, there I cannot blame you. They are, after all, the best roses." England willed his pride not to show, knowing it would be ungentlemanly. "Thanks mostly to you, of course."
It was Demeter's turn to be flattered by her friend. A complementing rouge found its way across her porcelain cheeks bringing attention to the adorable beauty mark below her left eye, reddening the tips of her pointed ears as she cutely fidgeted.
"Your magic is more helpful and prominent than mine. I don't do much at all," she muttered flusteredly, looking down.
England set a finger on Demeter's shoulder lightly, coaxing her to look up at him. "With as much as I'm away at meetings, fixing America's problems," he remarked offhandedly, causing Demeter to crack a small grin, "I barely get to cast a good charm on them. It's you how actually keeps them so lovely."
"Alright, that's enough flirting," Demeter chidded.
"I wasn't flirting with you," England snapped.
Demeter looked at him expectantly. "Am I meaning myself?"
England opened his mouth to question her tiny amount of sanity when it registered in his mind that he had mention someone else. And then, "YOU LITTLE-"
"Off to you tea, now," she swiftly interrupted. "Bye, Arthur!" And with that she sped of on her leaf-like wings.
"Faeries!" England growled. "Bloody little backstabbers, the lot of them, always mischevious with their noses in everything. They always know what they shouldn't-" He could not believe he was admitting it. "Always- right..." No! He was sure there was nothing to admit, just stupid mind-game magic. "Troublemakers, they are," he hissed, "And what's worse is- Oh, you've got to be bloody kidding me..."
He had paused in his walk to the gazeebo to stare at a rather strange occurrence. Or, perhaps, strange wasn't the word, this leant more toward ironic.
Amongst all the roses, a deffect seemed to have been born into one rather large blossom and it was colored a stark navy blue. Surrounding it were several rows of red and white roses branching out to its right in stripes.
Yes, the perfect term was definetly ironic.
"Ah, sod it!" He shook his head madly. "The bloody thing probably has a disease." He looked about himself stamping his foot in annoyance "I don't have any pruning scissors! Oh, it doesn't matter, pain or no, it will NOT be poisoning my roses!"
Full ready for the thorns, England wrentched his hand forward only to find this flower had none. Out of curiosity, he plucked it from the bush and as he allowed his fingers to make contact with the petals, he felt the tingle of magic over take him and he was ripped from his spot to lord only knew where...
'Bugger.'
A/N: will fix errors later. Hope you liked it!