England had prepared tea for a rather strange accumulation of creatures. Fairies and pixies, imps and gnomes, unicorns and other mystical animals, fairy tale creatures and all the like. However, he never prepared tea for a monster until today.
The Brit returned to his sitting room, a tray of tea cups and such residing in his grip. Upon his arrival, the man looked up from his seat, and immediately stood, as a gentleman would.
England frowned at that, and set the tea upon the coffee table. His every move was watched and analyzed, as if he were the most important thing in the world. The blonde finally took his seat, having set up his own tea, and gestured for the creature to do the same. Again, the creature obeyed. He took a cup swiftly, poured it in a few short seconds, and without putting any sugar or cream in the steaming cup, he took a refined sip, eyes never leaving England.
God, his eyes.
They were of the deepest blue, dark as midnight, the color of a never-ending aquatic abyss. Jet-black hair framed a tanned face, and his slight, analyzing eyes bored into England's forest green. Soft, gentle lips that had kissed England's hand with so much care were expressionless, neither smiling nor frowning. He was tall. Almost too tall. Even sitting down, his presence filled the room with his impressive height and toned muscles that were even visible under the long-sleeved dark blue shirt and black trousers that he adorned. He was attractive, to say the least. And the way he constantly stared at England - it was enough to unnerve anyone.
The two sat in silence, England gazing wearily back at the intense stare of the creature, before the Brit finally spoke.
"Do you have a name?"
A pause filled the room, in which the creature's lips slowly curved into a small grin, as if England had said something amusing. Then, after placing his chin in his hand, gaze glued to England's face, he said in a surprisingly smooth, silky tone that would melt anyone's heart, "Wnats."
"... Wnats?" England repeated, still a little dumbfounded from the other's tone of voice. Quickly, though, he tried to shake off the feeling and keep this... Professional. After all, this was his creation. He must appear to be unfazed in his presence. "That's... A rather abnormal name."
"... To represent what you hold dear. What you want. The first two letters switched, to symbolize an exchange between master and servant. I am... Your desires, Arthur Kirkland."
England stared at him, a frown growing upon his expression. "My desires?"
"Isn't that what you wished for, Arthur Kirkland? To have your comrade," he paused once more, to lean forward ever-so-slightly, eyes lit up almost hungrily, his grin growing. "Your brother," England, much to his surprise, felt his hands begin to shake. He clenched them into fists, attempting to cease the nervousness that was slowly taking over.
"... Yourself."
"... Y-Yes... Indeed, it is." England muttered, now looking anywhere but those hypnotic, astounding eyes that bore into him incessantly. "A servant to give into my every whim, and to provide all that I need."
"... I'll give you all that you require, Arthur Kirkland." Wnats stood, placing the cup down on the table. He moved around it to England's chair, where the Brit watched him almost nervously. He bowed, as a noble, brave knight would do to a fair maiden, kneeling upon the floor with those eyes - God, those eyes - never leaving his master. He took England's hand once more, and kissed it slowly, gently, lovingly. He then returned his gaze up to the man before him, and gave him that sly grin that made England's heart skip a beat.
"For I am your's."