First chapter of a fabulous new story!

I was inspired by an author called Emochickthatlookslikepein, who has mysteriously vanished From altogether.

This is my take on her idea of the nation's children. Of course, with my own personal twist.

By the way, 623 people have read my stories.

61 of which are Australian. I adore Australian accents, so Yeah. That made me happy. Thank you guys from Down under!

DISCLAIMER: I only own my two OCs, the rest belong to the delightful people who submitted theirs! You guys know who you are! :)


Today had started as a very good day for England. True, it was the middle of world war, but he had woken up to a sound he loved very much.

Silence!

America was back at his home, France was dealing with his own affairs, and Sealand was playing with Wy at Australia's house.

All had been peaceful.

That is, until he could feel a sudden urge of powerful magic that made every single hair on his body stand up. A shiver was sent up his spine.

And a very loud bang came from downstairs, which sounded very similar to the sound of thunder.

Running downstairs to his study, he could see the strange purple static of an odd magic that England could not recognize. In the middle of all of it, was a young unconscious man, looking like he was starting to leave his teens.

And this surprised England, but not from the magic, or the fact that the boy was knocked out.

Oh no, it was from the fact that the boy looked almost exactly like America. There was, of course, some differences. His hair was a bit lighter, somewhat like England's own. And the cowlick that America had so affectionately named 'Nantucket' was missing from his locks. His skin was also lightly tanned, a splatter of freckles was splashed on his peaceful looking face.

His clothes were not quite unlike what England would wear outside of this damned war. Simple light blue sweater with a white star on the front, covering a white button up shirt. His khakis were pressed neatly, even though his legs were curled up to his chest. His glasses seemed as though they had fallen off when he was knocked out. A small strange device was in his hand, tightly held, as if it was his life.

To England, it seemed as though the boy looked peaceful. It reminded him of when America was still a boy. He shook the thought from his head. Now was not the time for that.

Shaking the boy, he attempted to wake him up. He gained only a small mumble and a nuzzle to his hand. England sighed. He picked him up, surprised at how light he was. He was being carried like a young child in England's arms. Again, he gained a mumble, and a nuzzle into his shoulder. England blushed lightly.

Putting the boy on the love seat that was in the next room. The boy shivered, curling up more. England smiled, an almost fatherly feeling take place in his heart. He grabbed a quilt from a nearby closet. He laid it on the child, and then sat down in an armchair, a sense of nostalgia taking over. He would wait for the boy to wake up, then question him how he got there.

Which only took a few moments.

"Hnn, daddy, is it time for breakfast?" he said. His voice was obviously American, but soft, and sounded like it had a strange sort of authority to it, making England feel extremely strange, as though this teen was more important than he seemed.

The boy sat up before England could say anything, and looked right at him.

His eyes were greener than anything Arthur Kirkland, The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland could believe. He felt chills go down his spine.

"Dad, what's-" he said, before going wide eyed. He looked England up and down, before looking at the entire room.

"Ohhhh no. Ohnononono." He said, looking as though he was going to explode.

England, however, was still stuck on the fact that he called him 'dad'.

The teen shifted, looking at him again.

"Hi, um... I'm Corbin. Corbin... Jones-Kirkland. And I'm ... Your son. From the future. Heh." He said sheepishly.

And at this moment, Arthur did not know what to feel.

That is, until he realized the boy said Jones.

"Oh bloody hell."