British Isle Troubles: Staying True to Yourself.
Characters: England, Fem!America/US, Scotland, Fem!Ireland, Fem!, Wales, with mentions of Fem!Canada and New Zealand.
Summary: When England's friendship with America becomes something more, the British Isles are launched into an unofficial Cold War. Wales, knowing he's just a small country, is trying to be neutral, but will family pressure and his repressed feeling's cause him to break down and take sides? Wales-centric.
Warnings: No historical points or plot, just a bunch of emotional crap really, OCs, conflicting family, mentioned EnglandxFem!America, mentioned sex, and a 'mildly' snapped nation.
Some things to know:
1. N. Ireland appeared around 1922 in this story.
2. Compared to Wale's and his other sibling's childhood (I imagine them being around 1000- 2000 years old atleast), N. Ireland came when idustrilization existed (which started in England around 1750. All hail the Industrial Revolution!).
3. Wee= Little, Tidy= Great, Bonking= Fucking, Gabbing= Talking excessively. Wales will accidentally write his accent in from time to time.
4. There's been something receantly about Scotland leaving the UK. I thought I might imply that in my story a bit.
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...Um, hello there, I'm Wales. I'm a country of the United Kingdom, headed by England, as my family and I call him. My 'Family', a word I use for the sole reason that we are all officially related, would consist of England; our technical Boss/Brother, who works hard for us, though he tries -and fails- to cover that up by saying that he's just 'being responsible', Scotland; our more... Uh, 'boisterous' brother, but who is good-hearted, mind you, and North Ireland, our youngest sibling, who can be a bit of a brat, but I guess that's what happens when you're born around a time when technology is taking over. Oh, and you're other siblings seem to do most of the work.
I guess with me, I seem to be the ghost of the family; the quiet one who isn't that well known compared to his siblings, or mistaked for England (we are not THAT similar!). While England likes to try -and, again, fail- at being 'the sane one', I feel that I may be the closest thing to calm in this family... Usually...
Another family member would be Ireland, the only one of us to leave the union so far and be her own nation. At first, well, a wee bit after their split up, they seemed to have gotten along better (though they still fought here and there). Nowadays, however, they're not even on speaking terms. Sure, Ireland, our Eldest sister, would talk to everyone but England (and America), though for reasons I'll soon get to, I wanted to avoid her...
We have extended family, too, like ex-colonies from Africa, Oceania, Asia and, of course, the Americas. The ol' U.S of America in particular.
That seems to be what started this unofficial Cold War.
America came over to our house one day.
Perhaps I should mention, we do live in our own separate homes in our own countries, however, due to some... 'Incidents', our bosses decided that we will be living in one house to get along while the 'Incidents' are taken care of. Tidy idea (sarcasm).
...Right, back to the story...
Anyway, upon hearing the opening of the door, coupled with a loud 'HEY ENGLAND!' in that foreign accent, I decided to leave N. Ireland for a moment, the lass was busy eating her lunch, and once again, help calm down the bickering that predictibally happened. However, as I came closer to where they were, I noticed there wasn't any yelling, banging, or high-pitched laugh. Peering over the doorway, I saw that they were hugging... And both were crying. England was crying. Not a usual sight, mind ye, of course it would take more to faze me. Sneaking away unnoticed, I got back to N. Ireland. America and England disappeared somewhere for the rest of the day.
Later, it wasn't until one of me Fairy friends told me what had happened: Appariently America had finally appoligized to England for the Revolutionary War, and that they had both agreed to make a fresh start. I thought that was nice, really. England needed someone like that after the split with Ireland, someone else then us to hang out with, because it seemed that wit and snark ran in the family.
So, after that, America started coming over more often, occasionally bringing over her sister Canada. I didn't think much of their relationship, until one day, after I came back home from a few days trip at New Zealand's, England questioned me about if Ireland had tried to contact me (when you family does magic, anything is possible). When I replied No, and asked why, he told me that Ireland called him and she, to put it delicately, exploded at him about his relationship with America.
I never knew of Ireland to be the jealous type, if it is actually jealousy, however, I did know why, though I have been trying to distance meself from the truth; America would stay over for days at a time, had already moved some of her stuff in the house, and would accompany us on family trips, though Scotland didn't take part of them. His boss wanted him to make diplomatic relations with other countries, and thus sceduled a trip around continental Europe for a couple of months. There was actually a debate going on whether Scotland should leave the United Kingdom, this was probably for preperation.
Oh, sorry, back on topic; everyone could see that America and England were now lovers and sides were being taken: Obviously N. Ireland seemed for it, proven when she once asked my opinion if America and England were to merge, which I gave a mixed but satisfactory answer for her young mind.
Scotland was, to put it in his own words, 'weirded out' by it all. He'd either be burying himself in his work or his room, only coming out when the two lovebirds weren't around, and don't be thinking he hasn't already shared his opinion with England!
With me, honestly, I don't want ta care much. England seems to be happier with America, and his cooking is even starting to become edible (now THERE'S a feat)! And America, as foreign as she can be, provided a nice female role model for N. Ireland, since Ireland just occasionally visited. Even Scotland was happy for his sister at first.
Of course, there are things I don't like, such as taking up the 'Wife' role more, considering that England is either doing his own work, hanging with his Girlfriend, or both, I've sometimes assumed.
Though I didn't mind the extra chores, I can say, N. Ireland can be quite the brat when she wants to be, like at night time when she wants to stay up late like the rest of us, or the fact that she doesn't want to do anything or go anywhere, which doesn't help her attitude, and I can't forget her catchphrase: 'I don't have ta, 'cause your not the boss, England is!'
The wee lass can be quite a handful, to the point where, one night, I actually exploded at her.
Nothing vulgar, mind ye, and my rant wasn't even a minute long, but it left us both feeling horrible (I was quite shocked at my outburst), especially since I've been trying to keep her out of this 'Cold War'. I still hate myself for that, even though after that incident, I told her a story of Leprechauns the night after as an apology. Also, if I ever seemed stressed when watching her, she'd be nicer. It was especially nice because whenever Ireland did call, I always needed some time alone to keep myself composed, for her calling would just remind me of what's been happening, and what could happen when she'll be free for visiting. Even though I specifically told her that I was neutral, I still feel her influence on me. Thankfully she usually calls when it's just me and N. Ireland are in the house.
Of course, I never asked her not to tell anyone, because not long after, England approached me asking if everything was alright; he said that N. Ireland told him about me, and that he was starting to notice something about me, too. I, as always, told him that I was okay, it was probably just the economy causing it (I just got over a cough due to that) and some stress from a lack o' sleep. I didn't want him ta worry, I mean, what he does with his love life, or in his bed (which has kept me up one night), be no one else's business but his, even though it seems others don't realize that...
What can I say? We can be nothing but a buncha fighting arses, but we do care about eachother.
Anyway, he decided to give me a vacation from watching N. Ireland for a few weeks as a thanks for letting him have his fun. I tried to do things to keep from losing meself; I enjoyed walking, especially through the forest, the sea, or in town. We're currently living in a house on the outskirts of a wee community, which was best fer this this family. Now that I think about it, I've been trying to get outside every chance I got since this rubbish started getting serious. Mostly at night, when it's calmer.
I decided to head out one foggy evening. While on my way to the sea, I met up with Scotland. Walking back from a job he got in town, I'm guessing, with a pack of his favourite brand of cigars, and no lighter. I knew by now to come prepared, changing me umbrella to the other hand to get my matches. He took it with a cheers, lighting one and taking a few puffs.
I stood a foot away, mocking him about his addiction, with him mocking me on how I always seem to smell a bit like a sheep, dispite not being near one for atleast a month, before he started talking about his plans for his trip. We were usually close, even when we fought eachother half the time as young'uns. Those memories vanished however, when he mentioned America and England. He had that face, the one that meant be was deeply troubled by it all, though I knew that already.
After going our seperate ways, I kept walking until I got down to the sea and, seeing that the tide was out, started walking on the sand. As I walked through the thick fog, I tried to sing or hum away my troubles. But thoughts of everything that's been happening kept resurficing, along with all the tension it had brung.
And I hated it.
So.
Bloody.
Much!
I approached where the tide started, and assumed a stance; with me back straight, and my hands clutching the top of the umbrella verticle like the hilt of a sword infront of me, I stared out from under my hat at the sea, my eyes a cold greenish tint of steel, almost like the water.
I was angry, angry with it all! I stomped me feet, swung the umbrella, anything that would slice that bloody demon called Hatred! Why did this haff ta happen! Why canna I keep meself in check and haff people worrying about me! I want ta help them, but I can't seem ta when I'm bloody fuckin' neutral! DO PEOPLE EVEN CARE ABOUT THAT!
...No...They don't...
...No one does...
...And no one should...
A moment later, I was walking back to shore. Before I disappeared into fog's cloak, I glanced back to where I was standing; There was the fog in the distance, the calm tide, the smell of salt, the eroding rock around me, and my footprints going to the edge of the shore and back. Nothing else. A sigh was all that escaped my lips before I continued walking.
A wee bit later, I was taking the long way home, walking beside a Golf course, when I saw some Fairies flying by in the distance. I was about to wave to them, but they looked too far away, and after I broke down in front of some of them (again, I blamed the economy), I decided to wait until...Things cooled down before I met back up with them.
If you're wondering, I got a call form a frantic England when I got home that day. Of course I just told him that I was sick and stressed.
Moving on, I walked a bit more, until I saw a young jogging couple checking out a bush for some noise. Quickly thinking up a story, I decided to humour myself by telling them about a ghost that haunted this street and preyed upon teens who were too busy bonking eachother to see him approaching. They laughed, but I guess most folks do when a non-local starts telling them ghosts stories.
When I arrived at the house, I stopped for a tad, getting the last smell of the air, the last sight of the overcast night sky, the alive feeling of the wind hitting me arms, and combing through me dark blond, unruly curls, one of the few differences between me and England.
My thoughts lingered back ta the 'Cold War', but I quickly composed myself. I'd just be overdramatic again, and I knew that, even if I did tell them, tell everyone everything, it wouldn't matter, because it wouldn't change anything. That was all, simple as that.
Going back to my usual bored expression, I took one more breath before going inside. The lovebirds were in bed, their gabbing echoing down the halls. N. Ireland was in bed, naturally, and Scotland was in the kitchen making himself a late-night snack. We said our goodnights when passing each other, and I got ready for bed before retiring to me room. Greeting my little dragon friend Cardiff (where else would I get the idea for a dragon on my flag or the name fer my capital?), I cracked open a book of Folktales.
After some time of attempting ta relax -and failing- I gave up, putting the book down and shutting off the light. I kept fighting off any depressing thoughts that tried to invade my mind, until I was too tired to do even that. And from those thoughts, one good idea came from it:
'I wonder it New Zealand won't mind me coming over this weekend...'
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End of first part. Pretty dour, eh? Don't worry, things will get better...Maybe.
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