So... Something different ja? Mama Britannia (Lillian Kirkland) is the main character in this story! Hopefully you all enjoy! I don't own Hetalia~
Lillian Kirkland sat outside her Old English style home in an ornately carved, wooden chair. She gazed around the familiar, large stone house with its many windows, the glass thicker towards the bottom after years of sitting in their panes. A fond look was in her pale green, eyes, crows feet at the corners, as she surveyed her abode of countless years. Even as she sat she could feel the divides growing stronger inside of herself. In the past few years she had aged greatly, leaving her friend Ludovick and even dear Roma concerned about her health as of late. She was rather resigned to her imminent dissolve, in some ways she even looked forward to it. That was something the two younger men didn't understand, but then they didn't have children who had given birth to the divides inside of her. "Lillian, how can you not fight to keep yourself together?" Her blonde haired, Germanic friend had asked her earlier that day. Roma had nodded his head in agreement in the background, receiving an irate look from Ludovick. They forever bickered.
She had simply smiled sadly, rubbing at a sore spot on her side with frail, withered fingers, and looked away. Her boys would take good care of Britannia. She knew they would. With that knowledge, she had no need to be upset or reluctant in her dissolve, only apprehensive about her sons' health and their abilities to withstand the pressures of being a nation.
Her sons were... A handful to say the least. Two read heads, a strawberry blonde and a tiny little blonde. She loved each of them dearly, even if they were always bickering between each other.
Iain, her oldest, was stubborn, hot headed, and very self sure. It was clear even in his ten year old state that he'd be great, a country not to mess with. She could see her little warrior as she called him now, high in a tree. His bright green eyes were snarky and full of devious intent and his flaming red hair was full of debris from the tree as he no doubt plotted against his brothers, most likely his "arch enemy" Angus. Despite him being the oldest, he was the farthest behind in his "How To Be A Nation" training, had been the last to make a flag, or pick his county's name, but, Lillian mused, that was because he'd rather explore, rather be adventurous and bold, plotting and scheming to make his two middle brothers miserable. Sometimes he even went so far as to proclaim her youngest son, Arthur, his "allie". Her little Iain, her Scotland. She loved his tales of adventure.
Angus, her next oldest, was her little trouble maker. He was her prankster, the one who was always looking to make her laugh at his brothers' expense. Eyes of a hard, calculating hazel, he was always looking to improvise for "weapons of mass destruction" that usually resulted in a skirmish between him and Iain. Of course, being nine years old when your older "bother" was big and strong and ten, he could never stand a chance in a fair fight, not that Iain just being a bit faster had anything to do with the fact he won most of their brawls. William, when he wasn't busy reading a book or studying something in his mum's garden, could usually be counted on as a good tag team partner. Like his older brother, he wasn't usually one to work on his studies, only having picked his colors and dubbed himself "Ireland" because William had suggested it to him. Something Iain had found great amusement in when he found out because "Ireland" was a name he had made up, being a shortened version of his secret nickname for his brother, IrritableLand.
William was her little smarty. He was usually so engrossed in learning new things that his strawberry blonde hair would stick up in clumps, going unbrushed in his excitement for a new day of discovery. He always could be counted on to ask question and tell his brothers all about the things he learned, even if they weren't particularly interested in what he had to say. Even now, she could see him with his little magnifying glass and his "sleuthing" hat on his head, a painted mustache on his face as he paraded around with a less than willing looking Arthur. "Young Mr. Kirkland! You must keep up! We have to see where the fairies took the sweets!" His little, exasperated voice floated towards her on the wind. He certainly was the most inquisitive seven year old she had ever met, but then she might have been a little biased. Of all the things she worried about, she was only concerned her William would be picked on, but, with his flag already being made and the proud name of "Wales" labeling him as a nation, she hoped his brothers would work to keep him safe when it came time to.
That left her baby. Her tiny, precious Arthur. His bright, brilliant emerald eyes melted her heart every time he looked at her, no matter how tussled his blonde hair would be. He was an adventurer, just like his brother Iain, but he was much more clumsy, often coming inside with a bruised head or a scraped knee, but despite his injuries, he'd never be deterred. Instead he'd go on his merry little way on stubby, toddling legs, shaping into the legs of a little boy, giggly and smiling with countless friends of magic and imagination to guide him. Her Arthur was imaginative, creative, and full of life, a brilliant ray of light amid his brothers' trouble making. He was half the age of his "bestest friend ever" Iain, and yet if the spit fire red head got along with anyone, it was his wisp of a kid brother, Arthur. The red head had been the one to help Arthur make his flag and pick his name, even if he wouldn't admit it. She had come across them in Iain's room late one night, fully intending on scolding them and sending them both to bed like they should have been hours before, but she had stopped outside the door for a moment, listening to them talk.
"Brother? Why do I has to make a flag? Can't we do it tomorrow? I'm sleepy..." Arthur yawned, snuggly wrapped up in a blanket as he struggled to keep his emerald eyes open. Iain was bent over his desk, facing away from Arthur and he shook his head, busily working on something Lillian couldn't see from where she had stood. He looked over his shoulder at the sleepy little blonde and actually smiled, something Lillian very rarely saw on her son's face.
"Are yeh sleeping on me already? C'mon. We're almost done! Just gotta pick the colors Iggy... C'mer so yeh can see!" Iain said in a hushed, enthusiastic voice. She had to stifle a little laugh when Arthur begrudgingly got to his feet, wobbly and looking ready to tip over with how tired he was and he stood on his tip toes to see what Iain was working on, eyes just barely clearing the top of the desk. He squealed happily and bounced up and down, his exhaustion forgotten in excitement and threw his little arms around his brother's legs.
"It looks like yours! Oh oh oh oh brother! Can the x be red like your hair? Can it brother? Please?" He cheered excitedly, squeaking in surprise when Iain hefted him up onto his lap so he could see better.
"Red like mah hair? Aye... Ok." Iain agreed slowly, picking up a red crayon and coloring something with a serious little expression on his face. "Yeh know yeh need to think of a name too aye? Ah've been thinking... maybe yeh should go by England? It's kinda like Iggy. What do yeh think?" He asked, resting his chin on top of Arthur's head with a yawn as he colored, looking sleepy himself.
"Iggyland! Yes yes yes I like it. I like it..." Arthur yawned and his eyes fluttered despite his excitement. "Lots..." He finished, curling against his brother's chest with a yawn and nodding sleepily, eyes slipping closed. "I wanna be England..." He slurred sleepily. It didn't take long for him to drift to sleep, soft little snores filling the air.
Lillian watched from the doorway as Iain kissed the top of Arthur's head and, with a great amount of difficulty, stood up with his little brother in his arms and move over to his bed, straining to keep a hold of the little one as he stayed fast asleep. She couldn't help but be surprised as her little warrior placed Arthur on his bed and crawled up beside him, wrapping his skinny little arms around him and pulling him close to his chest. "Mmm... Guid night Iggy." She heard him mumble as he pulled up the blankets over them both and drifted off into sleep.
As she sat in the chair on the porch, rocking slowly and watching her boys, she couldn't help but smile at the memory, even as pain spiked across her chest in a fiery wave. It was almost her time to fall from power, to fade into the distance. Her boys all knew she would leave them some day, all except for little Arthur who was far too young to quite understand. They were all prepared to thrive without her... and Ludovick and Roma would keep to themselves until they were strong enough to defend themselves. Iain would keep her baby safe, and Angus and William would be able to keep each other afloat. They would all be fine... Tears fell from her eyes as the divides inside slowly solidified, tearing her apart as her sons grew stronger. "Good bye, my sweets." She whispered, the words taking with the wind, the breeze that blew around her home of many a year. The wind whispered to her boys as a breath rustling the leaves of Iain's tree, whistled around the bushes William studied. It tussled the hair on Angus' head and kissed Arthur's tiny little cheeks. "Good bye, my sweets." The wind sighed, blowing just a little harder, hard enough to rock the empty, ornate wooden chair on the porch of an Old English style home, built of stone with the glass of the windows thicker on the bottom of their panes from age. The home of the late Britannia, and the home of the rising British Empire.
Welp there you guys go! Hopefully you all enjoyed it :)