AN: Hello, and once again, I've returned! I got inspiration for this story when discussing England's folklore with the wonderful Kimanda. Both her and CJ Ruru (with a '.' in between) Beta-ed this, so you should totally check them out on here or tumblr as well!
Honestly, the lack of interest in England's mythology concerns me. I mean, if you really want to understand his character and have that in-depth feel, you should look at the nation from all angles. It makes him much more intriguing and gives him a personal touch, too. I don't mention too many creatures that should be unfamiliar, but regardless I'll list all mentioned at the end in the notes. :P
As for their living situation, this takes place in the beginning of the 19th century. With that said, Wales and Scotland would have been residing in what I call the 'UK Mansion' - aka England's house, but with his brothers residing there too. Ulster (later Northern Ireland) is a recent addition, probably looking to be about 6-7 years old here, and Ireland would have just about moved in too. He looks to be about 23-24 yrs in appearance perhaps, with England at 19-20 yrs, Wales 21 and Scotland 22.
With that said, hope you enjoy, and don't forget to favourite and review!
What's Never to be Forgotten
Power was what all empires strived for—economically, politically, socially. Global superiority was top priority, demanding constant attention to the shifting of politics, economics, and trends. In order to dominate one had to be familiar with the latest movements, obtain the latest technology, and so on. Dominance meant everything to a nation when it was competing to make a global statement, and this was no less true for England.
Lately, England had seen a large boom of industrialism. As people tampered with steam power and the use of fossil fuels, bio fuels became irrelevant and so the environment was no longer much of a concern. This materialistic revolution foresaw an advantage for the nation and gave him economic prowess. He couldn't have been more proud of his people; however his pride seemed to morph into smugness around other nations, particularly France. His people were no longer struggling to live a regular life, tearing down obstacles such as starvation and poverty. No, now they were at work with better homes and better jobs to support themselves. He was growing, he could feel it.
As an empire, England had many responsibilities, one of which being to practise relations with a variety of nations if he wished to maintain his power status. As long as the factories were running, the materials were traded off, and the money came pouring in, he was secure. He was unstoppable.
June - Kensington, London, 1804
Decades had passed and England flourished. He knew that his people were improving the quality of their lives each moment, with their new inventions and blooming industries. His people mattered to him most, they were his top priority and he would give them what they wanted; whether that be beyond his own physical abilities or not, he would always make an attempt.
England's thoughts were torn away from him however, by the brief notion that he may have lost his keys.
"Damn things always disappear," England grumbles under his breath, mood not improving much once he does indeed find his keys.
He briskly walks through the door, intent on getting some tea into his system before moving onto yet more work to get done. In this case, documents and other papers to sift through.
Wales is sitting at the table, bringing his own cup of tea to his lips. He exchanges glances with England as the younger of the two goes straight to making himself a cup, as if they were magnets drawn together by some invisible force. Feeling the need to say something, Wales sets his cup down and pipes up, "Rough day?"
England seems to mull over his thoughts for a moment before settling on, "Not exactly. It has been long, I suppose."
Wales hums in acknowledgment, getting the sense that England hadn't been looking for conversation. The two brothers remain in silence for several minutes, each drinking their respective teas. It is only broken when England feels a small but deliberate tap on his knee. From his place against the counter, England looks down to meet eyes with one of the brownies that often times helped around the house; it looks back with dark beady eyes, using its other hand to make a gesture.
"What is it?" England asks, following the creature's gestures. "You would like for me to move, would you?"
The nation moves from his position at the counter to take a few steps away towards the table, only to watch the brownie clean the area where England had been standing. He watches it for a long moment commenting, "I thought they only cleaned after we went to bed."
"It's fairly late, you know. I thought you were here honestly, though the lack of shouting is explained by your absence," Wales remarks, England shooting a warning glare in his direction. Clearing his throat, the elder nation continues, "Regardless, they're not going to stop in the middle of it now."
England's only response is a sigh. His fingers tighten around the cup in his hands, appreciating the warmth that they bring. He looks down into it, eyes distant, as he mutters under his breath:
"I had forgotten that they were here…"
He then downs the rest of the drink before setting the cup on the counter and stalks off without another word, leaving Wales with nothing more than the small noises coming from the brownies' work.
August - Salisbury Plains, Wiltshire, 1807
Years I've been waiting, and still nothing, England concluded morosely. He was currently standing in the open expanse of the Salisbury Plains in the dead of night.
The nation was clad in a black coat and silk pantaloons as was the evening dress, and held a candle lantern in his hand. This is where, for centuries, England had shared countless moments with the Salisbury Hare. This mythical hare had accompanied him in his loneliest of days, only wanting to bring the Brit happiness and good fortunes. It was a custom for the two to meet whenever a full moon was at its peak; there, the Hare was at its brightest and would dance around the English nation in exchange for nothing but his smiles. It was the Salisbury Hare that kept his small body warm on chilly nights and guided him through the wilderness. It hadn't been until the fourteenth century that the humans had caught glimpse of the Hare, but this only made its presence stronger and more vibrant.
However, it pained England to admit that he couldn't even so as remember the last time he had come across the Salisbury Hare. England found himself dumbfounded as to why it had disappeared and where to, even. The possibility of his own mythical creatures disappearing or dying was such a rare thought to cross his mind, and certainly not something he enjoyed mulling over. Shaking his head, England turned to go back home without having seen his friend, once more.
April - Kensington, London, 1810
"Not that I care what you do so much in your spare time, but what could possibly be important enough to be kept a secret?"
That question got England's blood boiling through his veins. Scotland was standing in the hallway, having left the sitting room where he and Wales had been sitting for the past half hour. It wasn't like England to mysteriously vanish without a word; the nation was the sort to at least make a vague mention of where he was going or when he would return—especially since he wanted no funny business going on in his home whilst he was away. And so, this lack of information brought about England's elder brothers' curiosity.
"Well?" Scotland prompted once more.
England bristled, his hands fidgety as he tore off his coat and hung it up. "Why is it a concern to you, Scotland? If anything, I thought you would enjoy my absence."
Scotland gave his younger brother a small smile, not denying nor confirming this statement, however that wasn't his point. "No, no. You're just acting strange."
England scoffs before brushing past Scotland, murmuring some insignificant remark as he headed deeper into the house.
"He certainly is acting out of character," Wales says, moving to stand beside the Scot, who had crossed his arms. "Aye, but he's always been confusing. Maybe it's got something to do with us, or maybe he's getting some romance in that boorish routine of his."
Scotland waggles his eyebrows towards Wales, barely managing to hold back his laughter when he hears Wales' indignant sound of displeasure at the thought of imagining one of his brother's love lives, fully earning that elbow in the rib cage.
"Shush," Wales hisses, face having reddened slightly from Scotland's earlier insinuations. "What's he doing now?"
The two begin to trace England's faint laughter and rare coos of affection. They find him close to the backdoor of the mansion, a crisp breeze pelting their bodies. It was clear that the door had been opened recently, and it hadn't been them. Staying at a safe distance, Scotland and Wales spy on their brother, who was exhibiting some abnormal behaviour.
There was England, crouched down and interacting with a small group of brownies, whom were all chattering excitedly. The British nation grinned as he set down two saucers of milk for the fae, who didn't waste any time indulging themselves after a long day's worth of work. While it wasn't odd for England to treat his magical creatures and acknowledge them, he didn't usually take the time to sit down with them. In fact, none of them really did. However, that was more because their creatures openly expressed their dislike for intrusions and expected there to be some specific reason for their nation's company. England's fae weren't all very specific about personal space, nor did they go out of their way to interact with England on such a…playful level. Deciding to leave England and his creatures to their own devices, Wales and Scotland turn to leave to their respective bedrooms. However, something bright red catches the corner of Wales' eye, prompting him to grab a hold of Scotland's arm in surprise.
"What now?" Scotland inquires, eyebrows raised. He follows Wales' line of vision before grunting in understanding.
They watched tensely as the red split into two glowing orbs, something wet and shiny between the mysterious saucers. Suddenly England turned to face the strange apparition, nearly shouting in surprise as he was knocked over.
"England!" Wales called out, wincing at the volume as his voice, and definitely blowing their cover.
"My, you're so impatient! And heavy—oof!" England chortles and grunts heartily, petting the black mass that continued to press down on the nation's torso.
It wasn't until Wales recognized the beast that he furrowed his brows in confusion. Mouth agape, he stared at England and the hellhound as one laughed—practically giggling—and the other wagged its tail at an impossible speed. Scotland seemed just as confused as he did, much to Wales' relief, because that meant he hadn't gone insane after all.
"Wha—England, why is there a bloody hellhound in the house? That's not where they belong!"
England paused showering the dog with affection to acknowledge his brothers. Fully registering the situation, the Brit's face reddens slightly as he makes an attempt to sit up properly. Putting on a more indifferent expression he asks,
"What's it to you? For your information Old Shuck—" England held the massive canine's jaw with his hands, as if to show his brother the cuteness of baring teeth. "—is the sweetest pup you could possibly ever hope to meet! He's harmless, if only a tad mischievous."
Wales and Scotland simply couldn't understand. Their hellhounds were ghastly beasts—their only goal seeming to be terrorizing people with their clacking chains, red eyes, and blood-draining howls. Just thinking about Gwyllgi and Cù-Sìth made the two brothers shiver. It seemed as though the brownies felt the same, as they had all left the room. However, Wales' and Scotland's thoughts were brought back to the situation at hand once England stood up and continued talking.
"Just because your hounds aren't benign doesn't mean the same goes for mine," he snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. "And as for why Shuck is in the house…well, I haven't seen him in years due to focusing on the industry. I intended on meeting him outside, but he was so eager that I couldn't say no…You can't say you've never done something of the like for one of your creatures, both of you!"
"Actually, we can," Wales scoffs. "Whatever, just…finish up and let it back out as soon as possible, please."
"Aye, nobody wants to find supernatural dog piss on the carpet in the morning, or you'll be the one cleaning it up."
England only hummed in reply, already preoccupying himself with messing up the ghostly canine's fur and getting far too close to its pearly whites than was comfortable for his brothers. And with that, Wales and Scotland left England with his fae, wondering what had gotten into their brother.
April – Kensington, London, 1810
"So…"
"What is it, Wales?"
"How has your day been?"
"You know bloody well how my day has been," England spits, violently setting down his newspaper.
It was the afternoon, and England had returned not long ago from a meeting he had with his boss and some other significant people. The nation rubbed at his temples, not in the mood for prodding. Not that he was ever in the mood for prodding, but today just was not the day. He had gone on a trip once again to Wiltshire to chance a meeting with the Salisbury Hare the night before, with little luck. Due to these trips and more however, it had been rare for England to be in regular contact with his brothers. It was business in the morning, possibly a small break in the afternoon, complete work, and then off to invest in his fae with what free time he had left.
However, he had stayed out far longer than he had meant to this time and had gotten little sleep. To make his day more enjoyable, little disasters kept occurring that only succeeded in worsening his mood—Scotland teasing him, his boss and others expecting him to do a million things along with everything else they had given him, dropping his keys, not being able to finish his tea before it got cold—the list went on. He found that these sort of things were worse than one large thing, because it only built up his frustration and pushed him further.
Needless to say, he made damn sure his brothers were well aware that he was in a foul mood. It seemed that Wales would only push him off the edge, however.
"I know, I know. England, it's just that you look pent u—"
"The Hare."
"The Hare?" Wales echoed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
England let out an exaggerated sigh, aggressively running his hands through his hair. He keeps them there as he lifts his gaze up towards Wales, who was standing.
"The Salisbury Hare, Wales, I know you're aware of it. It seems with all of this industrial activity my people are forgetting everything, they're forgetting the legends and the magic folk and I don't know what to do! I've found myself forgetting Wales; I've been forgetting them too!"
Wales could only stare in shock at England's confession, having not expected this to be England's worry. He could easily tune out his brother's complaints about work and everyday miseries, but not this. The younger nation seldom shared something so personal with others, though perhaps it could be blamed on his worn-down appearance and tired voice.
Uneasy silence fell upon them after England's outburst, Wales unsure of what to say and England busy thinking of the Hare. After what felt like a painful century, England hesitantly continued talking.
"I've…I've been looking for the Hare. It's never there anymore. No matter what time of day I can't find hide nor hair or it. But, where could it have gone to? What if something happened to it?"
Wales gave England a small smile before taking a few steps towards him, so that he was beside England. Resting a comforting hand on England's shoulder, Wales says gently,
"Lloegr, perhaps the Hare is reluctant to come out because it's aware of the heightened human activity as of lately? Maybe it has moved into a more secluded area is all, I doubt that a creature that has been around for so long could fall so easily."
"I…suppose you could be right," England sighs slowly, eyes distant. He wills himself to look up at Wales, who only gives him one last small smile before leaving the room.
Wales is right, England attempts to tell himself. It's never been fond of crowded areas or where there's increased human activity, so maybe it really did decide to move away for a bit. With this in mind, England felt that he should take a break from looking from the Hare. His grip on his work has been slippery due to his frequently wandering thoughts. Plus, there were still the other magical creatures to tend to. He couldn't forget about them as well.
June – Kensington, London, 1810
It was half past two in the morning, Wales noted, when he heard the front door open and close. It was probably England coming back from his business trip, though it was an odd time to be returning. Wales had been up for quite some time, and not because he had wanted to; if the nation could choose, he would very much prefer to be in a deep sleep than sitting around a large and dark mansion in the middle of the night. However, its England's appearance that startles Wales more than his own paranoia.
The younger of the two was as pale as a ghost, eyes wide and posture incredibly stiff. Upon seeing Wales, England offers a strained nod.
"Wales," he greets, not bothering to question why Wales was up and about so late into the night. Rather, he brushed past Wales to head for the staircase—or would have, if it weren't for Wales' persistence.
"Lloegr, why are you back so suddenly? Did something happen?"
"Nothing happened," England hisses, his tone overly defensive and venomous.
Wales frowned at his brother's attitude, it being made abundantly clear that something clearly got the Brit's hackles up.
"If anything," England continued in that sharp tone. "I should be asking you that, since you look as though you've been awake for quite a while."
Wales shifted uneasily, not wanting to press on England's nerves. Not only was he difficult to handle when he got angry, but he was not afraid to shout and yell in the middle of the night if he felt it necessary—not that Wales ever felt it necessary to yell and shout in all of the situations England chose to. Treading lightly, Wales inquires,
"I simply couldn't sleep; nothing important. However, you look…you seem…what happened?"
England only seemed to get more and more agitated with Wales' hesitance and unsure gestures. At the same time, his guard appeared to lower as he relaxed his arms and avoided eye contact. Wales waited for England to speak, the Brit searching for the words to express himself. Wales is almost startled by his brother's voice when he does hear it, as it is much softer than before:
"It was the Hare again. I went to our traditional meeting place, but thought of what you told me so entered some nearby wood. It took a while, but it was there, I saw it." He inhaled and exhaled deliberately, attempting to regain composure after his voice had wavered. "But…it was different, Wales—different from the last time I had seen it. It was rawboned and its fur was discoloured, wouldn't even approach me. I think it's…"
England didn't have the heart to finish his sentence, it seemed. Wales was aware that the topic of the Hare had begun to be a sensitive one for him, and so he had never bothered asking England about it. The elder nation sighed uneasily, and both nearly jumped at the voice coming from the top of the staircase.
"England…? Wales…? What's happening?" The small plantation squeaked, looking tired and confused.
England's expression softened as he gave Ulster a small smile.
"It's alright lad, Wales and I are having a small talk after I've come back from business. You go on and go back to bed now, alright?"
The small plantation gave England a simple nod—he could always ask Scotland later to see if he knew anything about it. It wasn't until Wales and England heard Ulster's door shut that they let go breaths neither knew they had been holding. Slowly, jade eyes met emerald. They would have to keep their voices down if they didn't want to wake up Ireland and Scotland next. The two moved to the sitting room, where they wouldn't have such a high risk of waking others. It was there that Wales sat beside a weary England on the couch, watching his brother anxiously look about the room and fidget. Knowing very well what was causing the other nation's stress, Wales decides to attempt to console his brother. He rests his hand on England's shoulder, gripping it. England made no move to swat him away, which Wales took as a good sign. He moved his hand over his upper back, beginning to rub the nation's muscles to get him to at least relax his body. Rather than speak up, Wales remains silent and watches as his brother gradually relaxes. While he normally avoided attempting to console England like this—they were all awkward about physical contact as it was—this wasn't about the economy or politics. This was about England, his brother, and something personal to him rather than a national issue.
England had always carried a strange kind of innocence with him—there were things he never believed to be possible, such as when Y Ddraig Goch and the White Dragon fought till one died, or how the fae had the potential of dying when exposed to certain situations. He seemed to never want to believe in such violent and miserable events when it came to the mythical, and it was this denial that kept England from moving forward. Wales felt he understood what the Salisbury Hare meant to England. After all, he had seen it accompany the nation ever since he was a tiny fellow. After several minutes had passed, Wales retracted his hand and spoke up.
"Do you have any idea why it would be in that condition?"
England remained quiet, but eventually explained, "My people haven't been as interested in the magic folk lately. I think it's hard on all of them, but many seem to be faring well. The Hare has been around for so long, that it's very possible that its legend is simply wearing out, I suppose…You would think such a creature whose purpose is to bring about good luck would remain popular forever."
England gave a short, strangled laugh which sounded much too bitter to be considered anything but out of anger. The British nation turns to face his older brother, his eyes much more focused than before.
"Wales, don't you get it? My people are forgetting. I don't want to forget too, I cannot and will not. If I lose these magical folk, then a large part of me will be lost with them as well."
Wales knew this to be true, and simply nodded. While this new founded determination wasn't unexpected, he could certainly say England's efforts were impressive. It was from thereon that this revelation led to England's daily interactions with his magic folk. Whether it were to be giving extra attention to his brownies, tending to the unicorn, or interacting with Old Shuck, England began to stay much more in-tune with the mythical creatures. They didn't seem to mind the extra love, much to England's relief.
People drive people forward, and thus their nations as well. However, in the midst of this collective power and newfound strength, special parts of that nation will begin to fade. One such aspect being of their folklore. For England, he refused to be like the other countless empires he encountered, who had lost touch with their magic folk and no longer appreciated looking back on them. He couldn't allow for that to happen, for his own to fade into nothing but faint memories or thoughts.
Thus, he made the effort to interact with the fae, most appreciative of the surplus attention. Not being a fool, England also knew his boundaries and made sure not to cross the fae's.
While the economics, politics, and social experiences are all necessary to stand strong on the global stage, it led to many aspects of those nations' culture slipping away from them. Many of these nations, now no longer empires, have long forgotten these creatures and dismiss them as stories that were made to amuse their people. England, however, has made it his personal obligation to maintain awareness of his magical folk to prosper. It's their strong presence in his life that maintains that whimsical vibe of something mysterious and alluring, something that keeps his own personal being alive and well. Their company and existence continues to lay heavy in his culture and beliefs. It is their company that allows him to persevere and hold hope that perhaps the Salisbury Hare is still in the world of the living, and anticipates England's arrival once more.
AN: So, what did you guys think? The Industrial Revolution was huge for England, so naturally he had a lot going on at once. I like to think that because of this obsession over progress and materialism (happening at different times depending on the nation in question) that many of the nation's lost their ability to see and interact with their magical creatures. However, nations that had an extremely involved lifestyle with their magical folk (England, Norway, etc) continue to be able to see them. Of course he had to realise that this was even a problem at first. But it is true that during this time period there was a sudden decline in folk tales and their popularity, with all of them suffering. Now, just to list and briefly explain these creatures:
Brownies - these little buggers are like miniature house keepers! They're popular in Northern English folklore and are said to clean people's houses in the night, assuming everyone is sleeping. They expect some sort of offering for their work, which is usually something edible like milk or honey, but if you call it a payment they'll leave. Even though they don't speak to humans, I'm sure that they would interact with England and rather enjoy his company.
Salisbury Hare -Quite an oldie, the first account of it was in the 1300s but originates from Anglo-Saxon folklore. It it said that the Hare comes out during a full moon, attracted by anybody who has an innocent nature or is simply down in the weather. It will dance quickly around this person, essentially passing on its luck and happiness to them. I imagine that this is the Hare England is seen with when he was really young/lonely and considers his first 'magical friend'.
Old Shuck - He's your typical hellhound, in appearance anyways. Black body, baring teeth, red glowing eyes like saucers, and giant to boot. But what makes him so different? Well, while there are some tales suggesting that Shuck is an omen of death whose only purpose is to frighten lost travellers, there are accounts that disagree. This large shaggy dog likes to follow travellers along remote roads, usually solo women, with silent footsteps and his howl being the only sign of his presence. He's estimated to be about 7ft long, so he's fairly large for a dog. But all in all he's really a protector of lost travellers, guiding them safely in the right directions. Honestly he'd probably play pranks too, with some accounts saying that Old Shuck has been seen floating on mist and even headless! (I drew something to go along with England and his relationship with Old Shuck on tumblr if anybody is interested!)
The Unicorn - Ah, yes. The Unicorn. It doesn't need much explaining, but I headcanon that the unicorn originally came from Scotland's lands and took a particular liking to England. While Scotland might be a bit bitter about that, he probably doesn't care so much as long as the creature is happy.
Gwyllgi - A Welsh hellhound. It's specifically described as similar to a mastiff, with bad breath and red eyes. It's also called the Dog of Darkness, and haunts lonely roads. However, it's not helpful like Old Shuck. Other Welsh hellhounds are known for being covered in chains and rattling them around at night.
Cu-Sith - A Scottish hellhound. This one is the size of a bull and resembles a greenish wolf! This one prefers to live around moors and rocks, and has a slightly different goal compared to other hellhounds; it is similar to the Grim Reaper that it escorts souls to the Otherworld and bays as a warning. It does this when hunting as well as when it is warning mothers to lock themselves up while nursing, or else it will abduct them and take them to a fairy mound. Exciting, right?
Y Draigg Goch and the White Dragon - Y Draigg Goch is the Welsh dragon, y'know, the red one on the Welsh flag. It is said in legend that it fought the White dragon (Red representing Wales and White representing England, in simplest terms) to the death, and won. This would have terrified England when he was younger and most likely led to his dislike for dragons. Nowadays Y Draigg Goch is more or less Wales' pet, shrinking itself down to doggy size to satisfy everybody's dragon needs.
Well, that about covers it I believe. Sorry for the long absence, I've been extremely busy and haven't had time to draw OR write until recently. Again I hope you all enjoyed and don't forget to favourite and review! :D