"Jasper...?"
Belgium snaked silently into the room, bringing over a silver tray. She had bags under her eyes for waking up incredibly early and preparing an opulent breakfast for his beloved brother. A mug of robust, black coffee and some buttered loaves dominated the center of the shiny surface, whilst a jar of honey and a packet of pre-sliced cheese were standing aside. The view of Netherlands lying peacefully and breathing regularly tranquillized her; apparently he wouldn't have any complications. Anneke posed everything on the desk and drew the curtains: the sunlight penetrated immediately and bounced upon the man's eyes, awaking him pitilessly. He grumbled loudly and hid his head childishly into the pillow.
"You idler! Stand up!", his sister said, pulling his sheets away. "It's breakfast-time!"
"Okay, okay, I got it!", he stated, with a pout on his face. "But, holy cow, stop shouting like that! I'm still so sleepy... and this current headache I'm having doesn't help!"
"You wouldn't be in such a lame state if you ceased your insane wandering!"
"How often am I supposed to repeat it?", he complained, scratching his nape. "It's not directly up to me; I've already explained it to you, my dear. The wild world's standing out there and we Europeans are responsible for its standardization. That's our mission. And I won't let others play this game for me, I wish to be as active as the other nations. I want our language, our culture and our vision of things to rule around this planet."
"That's no good reason for letting yourself be shredded!", she talked impudently back. "You're totally out of control, brother! Aren't those countries you've been chasing after enough? Why are you still hunting?"
He yawned and stretched his arms before answering. "Would you rather surrender in front of France and Britain and their fleets? If I hadn't led my army and my navy upwards and downwards, towards the new frontiers, Rose and François would have annihilated us both."
Belgium coughed with embarrassment. "Oh, by the way... speaking of them..."
The fair-haired man, after sitting down in front of the writing desk, started drinking his coffee. "Yeah?"
She couldn't avoid fiddling with her fingers. "Well... they sent you a letter, or something..."
He spitted out half of what he had been keeping in his mouth out of astonishment. "What? You're joking, aren't you?", he barely finished his sentence before noticing two light blue envelops which emerged behind the glass jar. He stared at them for a short while, and then tore them out. He recognized doubtlessly France's and Britain's handwritings. "...When were they consigned?"
"I don´t remember exactly...", Anneke admitted. "I suppose a few days ago..."
Netherlands, visibly nervous, pushed the tray on the left side of his desk and lifted up Rose's missive. He scratched the seal off and extracted its content. England's untidy calligraphy caught his eyes; there were just a couple of lines written in black ink.
'That's it, Netherlands. You trespassed. I had warned you not to cross my path any longer, but you didn't want to hear my suggestions. How did you dare ignoring my advices? How did you dare entering Africa? That continent's my property! Oh, well, mine and... France's. Nevertheless, you attacked South Africa, I got informed yesterday morning. I'm sorry, but that means war. I won't allow such a reckless kid like you to extend his commercial network. You'd better get ready now. It's too late, I cannot forgive your attitude. You're going to pay for your disrespect.'
Jasper glommed. He hadn't reckoned such a quick and harsh response from her part. He had settled for that furthermost portion of the African area with the hope it wouldn't engender any rivalry with the adjacent regions governed by Miss Kirkland and Monsieur Bonnefoy. Though, seemingly, his prudence hadn't been fruitful, seeing that the Englishwoman's intelligence agents had discovered his business line! And now, she had declared war to him! Passing his right hand down his neck, he dropped the first letter and took the second one. François' decorated paper reminded him of the time he had spent beside him, learning French and sharing portraits. He puffed.
'Who could have predicted such a day? Who could have foreseen such events? I've always considered you to be a promising pupil, but, my God, you've largely overcome my expectations. You'd probably dislike hearing such words from me; however, you shouldn't have gone that far, Jasper. I cannot permit you to grow more, to wipe your tentacles around new districts. That's not your role. The game's over for you. You forgot where your place is, do you see? I've discussed with Angleterre and she disapproves your action as much as I do, ergo we established we'd form an alliance and halt you. Watch out, your end is near.'
"What's up, brother? Something serious?", Belgium hazarded, shivering a bit.
"Something gross, Anneke.", the man affirmed, drumming his fingers on the wooden top. "It seems like South Africa continues giving me pickles." He flashed on his feet, opened his wardrobe and took a clean cardigan out. "France got allied with Britain. They're planning to teach me a lesson." He slowly dressed up. "They weren't very happy about my brand new colony."
The Belgian gasped. "What? This may not be true! How can we solve that? Do you have any idea?"
Holland answered lucidly, analyzing the situation. "I don't have much of a choice, actually. I refuse to give up without wrestling… but I'm not stupid, I know I have no survival chances if I battle alone. My only possibility is to find a companion aswell." He turned back at his sister. "Bring me my address book, right now! There's no time to misuse."
She ran into the sitting room and came back a few minutes later, with a red booklet in her right hand. He plucked it promptly and, after dampening his index, leaved through, alternating rapidly the pages and scrolling the names. Meanwhile, Anneke sat down on his knees.
"Hey, what about Spaanje?", she asked suddenly, pointing out the Spaniard's entry.
"Don't even daydream about it!", he barked angrily. "I won't stipulate a treaty with my ex-dominator! Never! Forget it!", his voice sounded irremovable. "He would profit of his old superiority and constrict me, so that I have to bow down again in front of him. I don't care about your crush on him…"
The girl blushed unexpectedly and jumped back on her feet. "Me? A crush on him? That's a lie!"
"Sure… that's why you're so sensitive whenever we talk about him."
This statement upset her so much that she simply left the room, slamming the door behind herself.
Netherlands smirked and moved on with his search. Alice's name came out. "Italië… she certainly is loyal and honest…", he reflected over and over, realizing that, still, she was a fabulous artist, composer, writer, scientist, craftswoman… but no capable warrior. He crossed her out as he had done with Antonio.
The desperation was gradually imprisoning him: none among his acknowledges seemed to be proper for his objective. He smashed the organizer away and cursed loudly. He would have died. With no external aid, with no partner, it was impossible, inconceivable, for him, to defeat that infernal duo. He walked around, in circles, waiting for a genial dido. Fortunately, it arrived.
"Portugal!", Jasper exclaimed, remembering the woman he met some years before.
That was the perfect solution. Of course, they hadn't kept in touch at all, but he didn't doubt he would be able to persuade her to join his cause. After all, being in his team and destroying the french-english leadership beside him, she would obtain unimaginable advantages. He nodded unconsciously and carried out his luggage, which lied under his bed. He filled it up with the bare essentials and got then concentrated on the contract draft.
He sailed off without even saying good-bye to Belgium. He left a short message behind, clarifying his program and begging her to wish him luck. Since his wounds were still hurting, he couldn't cover the whole distance all at once and needed some stops along the way for taking up his forces. After two and half weeks he achieved his destination: a sunny day awaited his three-decker. He roamed across the capital, looking for Portugal's house. Looking around, he felt fascinated by the awesome architecture, the musicality of the language, and the colors of the clothes. All of a sudden, a huge castle appeared in front of his eyes: Jasper deduced immediately that was the place he had been searching. He approached the gateway and knocked self-confidently.
"Um momentinho! Estou a chegar!"
He understood no word of what she said, but he beamed at hearing her voice again. Although he had had the occasion to chat with her only once, her accent had remained in his ears. He crossed his arms on his chest, tapping with his left foot, and stood patiently waiting.
"Aqui estou...!"
The brunette showed up, opening the door in a hurry. She had run to reach the doorway as quickly as possible, because she was still breathing heavy. Her golden earring was still swaying when she interrupted herself. She opened her blue eyes wide at recognizing those lineaments.
Holland smiled at her and started talking in Latin. "Wow, it seems like your look hasn't changed in the past years, Portugal." He referred obviously at the fact she was still wearing masculine clothes – a dark green shirt, misty grey trousers and black boots – like she did the very first time they bumped on each other.
"Mind your own onions, Netherlands!"
"Call me simply Jasper, honey."
"Jasper?", she looked surprised at hearing that proposal. "Why should I? We're no friends and no relatives, therefore it's no use."
"What's the point of behaving so rudely? I come for a visit and that's how you welcome me?"
Portugal snorted. "I think I've already told you I don't want anything from you."
"Things have been modified, Joana."
"Wait, how do you know my name? I haven`t introduced myself yet."
Netherlands grinned. "Have you forgotten I used to be under your brother's rule? He didn't mention you that frequently, but he still keeps loads of pictures of yours. You were a really cute tomboy, you know?"
The Portuguese maid blushed. "I was no tomboy! I just tried to become stronger! I've already told you I need no men around; I'm enough for my own protection."
Netherlands laughed. "And that's why you wear trousers and not dresses? That's somehow pathetic, Joana. A woman is a woman, and a man is a man…."
"Disappear!", she shouted at him. "If you've come to deride me, I'd better cut it off."
"Wait, you stubborn creature!", the Dutchman grabbed her on her left elbow. "I didn't mean to mock you. It was just my own way to unblock the awkwardness… Actually, I'm here because I have a special offer for you. I mean it. Let me in."
He looked down at her, intensively. He said to himself she was somewhat pretty… such a pity she was so unwomanly. She was most likely lesbian, he assumed. There would be no other logical reason for her to screen her gender.
Her anger dwindled, as she stared into his eyes. She hadn't erased the memories of their first meeting, the memories of him holding her hand and kissing it softly. She had wanted to bury those past images, though she never could, due to the attractiveness of that stranger. She sighed and invited him in with a swift gesture.
