Description: Some of England's colonies have decided to reminisce all together this holiday season. In Order to do so they all go to their Former Big Brother, Britain's house. How will the former Empire deal with his 'Children' back home for Christmas?
A Colonial Christmas
Chapter 1
It was November 25, America had just ended his "Thanksgiving" celebrations. England was drinking his morning cup of Breakfast Tea contemplating Christmases of the past. He had yet to put up the tree this year. For Arthur this was unusual he usually had started to celebrate after Halloween like the majority of his country did, but something had stopped him. Arthur was reading his lovely newspaper, when the door knocker rang through the old mansion he called home. "Who is bloody visiting this early in the morning? It's not even eleven," the island nation thought to himself as he went to see who it was.
When Arthur opened the door, he was definitely not expecting to find four of his former colonies at the door, with suitcases.
"Well, MERRY CHRISTMAS DUDE!" America was still living off his Thanksgiving high, but for sure happy for Christmastime to be here. Wait, panic seized England, Alfred is up before eleven after THANKSGIVING! He was usually sleeping until two in the afternoon!
"We came to celebrate, just like we used to!" Australia seemed to have the attitude as America.
"I thought you were anti-Christmas until December Alfred," Arthur talking to his former little brother, his voice like that of when America was just starting a revolution.
"Just until after Thanksgiving, before then it's just premature. We have to celebrate the survival of the Pilgrims first and friendship and family, and good food," Alfred looked a little too proud.
"Al, you're the only one who celebrates Thanksgiving in November," Matthew quietly told his twin.
"Well, you would think Artie would at least celebrate, he was there you know?"
"Wait, you joined the pilgrims?!" Hong Kong made his first remark of the conversation. He had been watching to see where it went, but this was too much to ignore.
"Yes and No, I went to explore the New World and found Alfred. I am not sure if I regret it or not," his voice teasing his first colony.
"Uh huh, I know for a fact that you cried when I almost went with France," Al smirked.
"WHAT! THIS IS NEWS TO ME. PAPA WAS ALMOST YOUR PAPA TOO!" Canada uncharacteristically yelled to his younger twin.
"Yes, sadly…"
"Can we please go inside, it's cold and I think it's about to rain," Christian (or Jett as her preferred) Kirkland (Australia) whined.
"Oh, of course, come in. I trust you remember where your rooms are," A smile of nostalgia rose upon Iggy's face.
The group of five headed inside, suitcases and all. Kumachurro was following Canadia, and Jett's koala was on his shoulder as they went up the stairs.
Hong Kong was the first to get to his room, as he was the last to leave England's house. Inside the room both British and his Flag hung on the walls. His fedoras hung on the side of the bed just as they had when he left suddenly back to China. All his clothes were still in the closet as though he had never left. The walls were a beige but a red Bauhinia Blakeana flower was painted over the bed. He flopped done onto his bed, remembering what it was like when he first came into England's care.
Christian cautiously opened his door. His bed had his stuffed koala collection with other animals still on it. The handmade quilt from England was still on his four poster bed. His eyes teared up, but quickly were gone. A map of his country hung over his oak writing desk. His old writing utensils and papers everywhere. Christian saw his trunk, and peeked inside. All of his old toys and drawing were tucked inside like a parent who wanted to save all of these things. The young nation after reminiscing began to unpack his suitcase.
Canada was the next to find his room, as the rooms came closer to Arthur's the further down the hall. Kuma's bed by his still sat beside his. Matthew's tan suit from his young teens hung on the wardrobe door, where he had left it over a hundred years ago. Arthur had obviously been in to clean, but had not moved anything. A small smile played on the quiet boy's face. Drawings of maple leaves, pancakes, and other national symbols covered the walls. There was a painting of Arthur, Alfred, and him on the wall by his desk. The room reminded him of happier times, before the American Revolution, 1812 when Al burned York, 1814 where Arthur and him burned Washington DC. Mattie finished his exploration and started to put his stuff up in the way he had before he became independent.
Alfred reached his room last, being the first his room was next to his former mentor's. Grief stabbed his heart as he looked inside. It had been 270 years since he had been to Arthur's for holidays. He regrets taking his freedom so soon, he just wanted to be strong like Artie. His toy soldiers were on the floor where he had played with them. An English flag hung proudly on the wall over his king sized bed. A leather bound Bible sat on his nightstand from which Arthur read him stories. He had been instilled in strong Christian roots that still stood today. That suit he had returned after his first world meeting was in his closet with his old clothing. An old tea canister stood on his desk, if was filled with letters Arthur would send when he left for meeting. Another stood from Matt before he came into the British Empire. A small British officer's uniform hung from a coat rack. Al was painfully aware of everything he could have prevented. He quickly unpacked before heading downstairs.