A/N: You, one about the Ireland twins. I'll be explaining a lot of the history of this after the fic.
Let me just say that this was a little hard to write. You see, my papa had to leave N. Ireland because of the riot between them and England, and then he moved to America. So, I have a lot of family in bot Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. Though I never met them, I still feel horrible whenever someone mentions the mistreatment of the Irish. 'Cause you're messing with my family!
Anyway, this is is a song fic. If you couldn't tell, it's to Danny Boy. I know there's a ton of versions, but I'm using the one by Franc D'Ambrosio.
I do not own Hetalia! Or the song!
Ireland's throat tightened as a chocked sob escaped her, having no more tears left to shed. They had all run dry. Her eyes were empty. She was empty.
Her brother was empty.
Ireland fell to her knees, one hand gripping the edge of the wooden casket so hard her knuckles were white. Her head was bowed, dark orange hair spilling over he shoulders in loose ringlets to cover her pale, tear-streaked face. Her jade green dress fanned out behind her. The fabric rustled as she straightened, lifting her round face to stare at the cross hanging from the ceiling of the church.
Emerald green eyes, glazed over by shock and unfocused from grief watched the bleeding man on the wooden frame, shining everywhere from the reflection of flickering candles lined before the alter. One flame for every citizen of Northern Ireland.
She couldn't look at her brother, at her other half just yet. Not if, every time, she felt like she was being torn apart.
Oh Danny boy
The pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen
And down the mountainside
The summer's gone
And all the flowers are dying
'Tis you, 'tis you must go
And I must bide.
Life stirred behind the shadowed green orbs as they wooden structure above her swung on a breeze, accompanied by the creak of the door.
"I should have known you would be here."
Ireland flinched. Pure, cold-hearted fury raged like a fire in her stomach, filling her, consuming her, at the voice. Before she could act, the fire was squelched, doused by a flood of sorrow so powerful that tears pricked at her dry eyes.
"England" she whispered. Her once beautiful, melodious voice was broken and small. But the empty church echoed the one word a thousand times, the darkness only projecting the hurt and anger warring inside her.
She heard the clicking of her older brother's boots stop somewhere behind her, hesitant, before resuming their path towards the front of the building. Ireland felt her skin prickle as he neared.
England's shadow fell across her and stretched over her twin. She felt sick with hate, just having his silhouette touch Northern Ireland. "It's his fault, you know. There was nothing we could do. Nothing you could do."
Ireland jumped to her feet, eyes ablaze, thin hands curled into fists, frame shaking. "You could have stopped", she hissed.
But come ye back
When summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow
'Tis I'll be here
In sunshine or in shadow
Danny boy, Oh Danny boy I love you so.
England's eyes flickered down to the man – no, still only a boy – lying in the casket, Northern Ireland's hands folded on his still chest. The Brit ran his fingers along the green, white, and gold colored flag with a tsk.
"He could have stopped", England replied. "He knew the agreement and he knew the consequences for breaking that agreement. Yet, he still chose to rebel."
"He was your brother", she shrieked.
"And you were my sister. I couldn't let another one of my family leave me. But, look what happened when I tried to tell him."
"Or your pride couldn't let him leave after everyone made fun of you with what you allowed to me?" She sneered.
England turned his head towards her. She glared at him with as much fury as she could muster.
How could he have done this? How could he? How could he have gone against his brother, his own blood? She could see her twin's green eyes, and his eyebrows on this…this murderer's face. Could England no longer see the resemblance?
"I had to protect myself, my country, my people. The threat was Northern Ireland. Was Northern Ireland. The threat had to be eliminated. Again, he knew what he was facing." England dipped his head to his younger brother and Ireland wanted to knee him in that pretty little nose of his. "I believe we have terms to discuss when all of this mess has been cleared away. I'll be waiting."
And when ye come
And all the flowers are dying
If I am dead
As dead I well may be
I pray you come
And find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
Ireland stood over the open casket once more, England's farewell echoing in her ears as he left. She hung her head as sobs once more raked her body, tears breaking on the flag covering the bloody wounds she knew dotted Northern Ireland.
Why, oh why, had he gone to fight England? There had always been turmoil between the two siblings, but they had finally started to get on better terms. They had started talking, and stopped bringing to weapons to meetings.
What had gone wrong?
Ireland and Northern Ireland were finally able to speak about issues on the island without Big Brother coming to 'help'.
What had gone wrong?
Northern Ireland had agreed to stop fighting against England, and had even given up his arms.
What had gone wrong? Only a majority vote of his people was needed to break from England. Why had he fought?
The twins knew they didn't have the support North Ireland needed from his people, no matter what the Sinn Féin told him. They both knew there would be more damage from a civil war than there would be to England. So why fight now?
Northern Ireland had always hated England, but he was sensible. Why had he fought? Didn't he remember his sister?
She missed him so much. Not even a day had passed and half her heart was gone, the other half crying in agony for it's partner.
And I shall hear
'Though soft you tread above me
And all my dreams will warm and sweeter be
For you shall bend and tell me that you love me
Ireland ran a hand through her brother's short, fiery red, curly hair, the other straightening the tri-colored flag.
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.
She kissed him softly on the cheek, wiping a stray tear from her face before turning away. Ireland was free from England. Ireland could take Northern Ireland and run the country – with much bickering from England. Just like her brother would have wanted.
To reunite with Ireland.
"And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me", she whispered, the church door closing behind her.
A/N:
A little clarification? Northern Ireland has fiercely fought with both England and itself for independence. Those that want to separate are called Nationalists, and they have a big group called Sinn Fein. But the Nationalists are a small amount of people in the country. Those that want to stay with Enlgnad are called Unionists.
Two new amendments were made to the Constitution of Ireland in 1999 that stated Northern Ireland could leave British rule through a majority vote. The government also agreed that the island of Ireland could solve issues between the North and South with mutual consent.
As the for the flag. The tri-colored flag is NOT the flag of Northern Ireland (it is the Union Jack), amny people still display it, and, well, Northern Ireland was fighting against England for freedom, so, yeah. The flag or Ireland seemed more appropirate.
The same with the church. Most people, well, mostly the Unionists, are Protestant, and Nationalists are Catholic. used a Catholic church because, again, he was siding with the Nationalists.
Some one please correct me if any of my info is wrong, because I don't look like I'm stupid! I don't mean to step on anyone's pride, so please, I'll fix it with your help! If it needs help. I'm not a history major, I don't even like history that much, so please be forgiving.