AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ohh, I absolutely love Ireland. 'Kay- this is during the Great Famine in Ireland (1840's and 1860's) and yeah, England kinda kicked Irish people to America. Hope you enjoy, I'll add more chapters, and probably finish about the time when the famine ends. Review please, I'm really enjoying writing this story, cause I'm using a "Dear America" book, and it's got all the historical facts about this time period. Very interesting- very accurate!! :D
"Ireland, open this bloody door before I kick it over."
"No."
The usually loud voice coming from the room was weak, almost a whisper, but still had the usual tint of stubbornness.
"OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR YOU BLOODY EXCUSE FOR A COUNTRY!"
England screamed back at the door, probably a little colder than he should have. The old nation knew that Ireland was sick, suffering from one of the worst famine's he had ever seen, but still, England couldn't take care of her, his own economy was in trouble, and he had no time to help her's.
"Fine."
The door creaked open, and in the doorway stood a fiery red-headed girl, hands on her hips, her emerald eyes blazing.
England was going to say something nasty, but really couldn't after seeing her.
Ireland's clothes were dirty, with rips and tears all along her skirt. Her normally red, freckled face was pale, deathly pale, which made her freckles stand out even more.
"By god, she's so thin…"
Thought England as yanked the protesting girl's arm, pulling her with him down the hall into the kitchen, and setting her down (a little roughly) on one of the wooden chairs.
"WOULD YA' LET GO OF ME YU FILTHY BRIT!"
England rolled his eyes back in his head as he pulled up a chair in front of hers, still blocking her from escaping through the door, but also watching to make sure she didn't hurt herself.
"Shut the bloody hell up!"
Ireland glared, arms crossed, but she really had no energy left to fight the taller blonde.
"May the devil damn you to the stone of dirges or to the well of ashes seven miles below hell and may the devil break your bones. And all my calamity and harm and misfortune for a year on you…"
She muttered, hoping to at least intimidate the man through words instead of actions.
"Bloody girl, you never listen. I have something important to tell you, will you listen for once?"
England actually looked serious, his eyebrows furrowing a little. Ireland noticed, and finally stopped muttering.
"Alright, well, considering how you are going through this famine…"
Ireland winced, looking away. She still hated the fact that England knew that her people were suffering, while his were just fine and dandy.
"And how I can't take care of you anymore."
Ireland snorted a little-
"You could barely call it care…"
England glared back at her, but she stuck her tongue out at him. The young man sighed, swept his hand through his dirty blonde hair, and looked back at his fellow nation.
"The bloody point though, is that you're going to have to leave me, I can't help you anymore. I've talked it over with America, that bloody wanker, and we've decided that he's stable enough to let you stay in his house for a few years…"
Ireland's face changed from a scowl to bright gleaming smile.
England almost fell back off his chair- the change in emotion was that fast.
"Really? America?"
She asked, eyes filled with relief. England had told her all of the stories about America, attempting to make him sound like a brat, or stupid. Of course, this backfired, and Ireland grew to love America's free spirit, and secretly envied him for gaining independence, and showing England up. Ireland, in a way, looked up to America.
"Well then, don't look too upset. You need to go pack your bloody bags then, and get ready to go. That oaf is coming to get you later this afternoon."
Ireland jumped up and ran to her room, laughing with joy, leaving a rather disgruntled and confused England behind.
She was going to America!