A Little Bird

England was going to kill them. Stomping up her now muddy steps (she just cleaned them this morning!), England collected an errant shoe, jacket, and sock as she internally bemoaned the fact that she was going to need a new rug for the hallway as she stalked down its length to her colonies's open room. Reaching America and Canada's door, England shot past the threshold to find the pair with their backs to her. They were hunched and crouched over something in the middle of their floor.

"What do you two think you're doing!" she demanded shrilly.

Canada jumped as America's head spun around. Her little blue-eyed boy's stare turned astonishingly wide as he got up and rocketed to her. Once beside her, he wove his dirty fingers into the off-white frock she wore. England winced. Why hadn't she let France take the lads the other day when he asked? They were bloody terrors.

"England! England!" America cried, his lip wobbling in the foreshadowing of tears.

Hauling the boy up into her arms with no mind for her clothes, (blathering was much worse than a dirty dress, she had decided) England bit back a growl. "What is it, America?" she asked through clenched teeth.

He pointed to his brother. "Me an' Canada found a bird in one of the mud puddles outside an' we brought 'im in to clean up but-but-"

England put a hand to her little colony's lips. "Hush love," she shushed, "tell your big sister about the bird; was he moving when you found him?"

Innocent eyes bore into hers. "N-No," America answered.

Well, shit.

Putting her colony down quickly, England reached over and gently pried Canada away from the mess that was his muddy sheets and a dead bird. "Why don't you boys go clean up, hm? Big sister will take care of the bird."

"Can't we help?"

"Wow! You'll have him all better by the time we get back?"

Were said almost simultaneously after her words. England didn't quite know what to say first, so, instead, she fussed with Canada's and America's snarled hair before saying, "No, I think I will manage just fine on my own, Canada." The little colony frowned at her, but she quickly hurried on to America's remark. "And I will." So what if she was lying to the brothers? It was for their own good.

Her blue-eyed child's arms wound around her again. "See bro!" he shouted, "I told you England was the best big sister ever! Way better than Papa France!" The cheeky look of triumph he sent his fuming brother was what did her heart in.

Ouch, this wasn't going to work. While the hero-worship was quite endearing and England was beginning to remember why she liked having the colonies with her again, she couldn't have felt worse in that moment. She was lying to her boys. Lying to them about a fact of life. Incapable of following through, England detached the little boy from her waist.

"Alright," she muttered, "I can't do this." Gesturing for Canada to stand next to his brother, England put a hand on both of their shoulders. "Alright boys, Big Sister England has something to tell you."

"What is it, Sister England?" Canada inquired so very sweetly that it nearly made the nation back out.

"It's-" her eyes snapped to the bird lying in the dirty sheets. "About the bird," she admitted.

"What about Mister Bird?" America piped up.

Bloody-! He'd given the disgusting thing a name! He'd had it hardly ten minutes and he was already giving it a moniker? Why did this have to be so hard? Why was telling the children about death her job? Why did they need telling at all? Shouldn't they just instinctively feel death from the creature's stillness? Coolness?

Looking between blue and lavender eyes, England was forced to come to the conclusion that, no, they were not going to suddenly realize they had brought a corpse into their home. (Who told her about death? She doesn't recall, probably Scotland - or perhaps France? Whoever told her, it didn't matter now because she couldn't remember and it was no help at all).

"The bird's dead," she blurted.

"What?!" America cried loudly as tears sprang from Canada's eyes.

Rubbing at his eyes with a knuckle as his twin completely dissolved into tears, Canada in his tiny, controlled voice demanded, "Why did you tell us you could make him better then?"

Having curled her arm around America so he could get his snot on her dress (and wasn't that stupid? Why does she always bring the worst dresses to wear to America?) England was glad she only had one large-eyed stare to contend with.

Floundering for a good explanation, she gave the best answer she could muster up. "Because I didn't want you to be upset," she admitted.

Sniffling, Canada whimpered, "But you told us he was dead!"

"I decided I couldn't bare lying to you even more."

"Why d-did you think you had to-to lie to us?" America questioned between hiccuping gasps.

Bringing the twins against her chest, England kissed their crowns and swayed with them. "Oh, I don't know." She sighed. "I suppose it's just one of those things adults think they need to do for children - soften reality's hard blow when they can, I suppose."

"You didn't do it to be mean?" Canada prodded. "To punish us for makin' a mess?"

Her own eyes flaring out widely in their shock; England stood up with her colony's safely in her grasp. "Oh no," she gasped. "If I wanted to punish you, I would have made you clean my floors!"

It drew watery chuckles and she was grateful.

"Can we give Mister Bird a funeral?" America begged.

England pursed her lips, it seemed rather ridiculous to give a bird a funeral, but…

"Go get the almost empty cigar box from the cabinet in my study," she ordered, letting America down. The boy scampered off. "Put the cigars on my desk and don't even try to nix one! I'll know you little brat!"

~xXx~

Knelt by a little hole in the green lawn with hands clasped in prayer, England did her best not to laugh as her little colony gave his eulogy.

"An' I hope all the birds in Heaven treat you really nice and all of 'em want to be your friend!" America finished on a chipper note. Twisting around to look for their confirmation, the boy asked, "Did I forget anythin'?"

The woman opened her mouth to tell him no, but the scowling Canada beat her to speech.

"You never mentioned his friends and family here! You never asked God to make sure they were taken care of!"

Blue eyes blinked. "You're right!" He exclaimed. Hurrying to stick his hands together, America said "An' make sure all his babies an' friends an' brothers an' sisters an' Mom an' Dad an' Grandpapa an'-"

"America!" England couldn't help but chide. This was taking far too long. She'd really like to change out of this dress today. "Please hurry this up."

The boy nodded. "Right, please make sure aaalll his family's taken care of!" he concluded with a flourish.

"That was very nice boys," she complimented as she put the box into the hole. "I've never seen a nicer bird-funeral."

Or ever seen one, actually.

They beam though. "You think he's gone to heaven?" Canada whispered.

Very seriously, England met their gazes. "Of course, he was a good bird after all."

"That's true," America agreed. "Can we have tea now?" he inquired after a beat.

England bit her tongue. "Maybe after I put on a new dress."

"Can I help pick which one you'll wear?" Canada implored. "I like them, they're so pretty."

"Me too! Me too!" his twin demanded. "I want to help!"

When they became interested in what she wore, she didn't quite know, but it was cute. Getting up, England gave them both a hand. "If you so wish," she agreed, leading them back to their home, the little bird slowly fading from mind.

A bit of Fem!England. What did you guys think? I did this for Eurwen de Vrill who really wanted a good England family fic. I hope you like this!

This is a One-Shot, I will not be writing anymore for this.

Thank you very much everyone for reading and please review!

EDITED: 1/4/16