[N/A: To anyone who is reading this... Tyne-side and Tyne are the same person. Wear-side and Wear are also the same person. Tyne-side and Wear-side are just shortened down to Tyne and Wear because people are lazy... County Durham and Durham City are two different people but their names are shortened to 'Durham' for the same reason.]

January 15th 1915

England sat in the trench offices, reading a letter he had received from the War Council. The room was warm and smelt of damp. The humidity of the air had potential to trigger an asthma attack and the smell of old cigarette smoke wasn't making the room any more pleasant. The dank room was lit by several lamps and allowed only a little daylight to enter. Men would travel in and out of the trenches every so often for breaks. The soldiers' preferred these damp rooms compared to the unsheltered trenches, in which they could barely stand.

Scotland leant against the wall behind the blonde, minding his own business. The Scotsman would usually write a letter to France or a close family member at this time, however, this time the red head was waiting for a letter of his own. He'd received several, but none were of the family member he wanted. It wasn't that he wanted a reply; he just wanted to know that they received his letter. He couldn't help but worry a little about the lack of reply…

"Oh, well, this is great!" England crumpled up the paper, interrupting the silence.

"Whut?" Scotland turned and looked at his stressed little brother.

"The troops in Egypt have been put on alert..." England handed him the paper ball.

Scotland straightened out the piece of paper and read the scrawled handwriting. He could barely make out what some of the words said.

"Hoo did ye e'en gie 'at frae thes? Thes person's hand-writin' is waur than mine!" Scotland remarked as he re-read the letter's content.

"I was hoping the attack could wait until I'd returned..." England massaged his temples. "I don't know whether Northumberland will be ready for battle..."

"Whut? Ye pure techt since th' riots ur th' Jacobite incidents?" Scotland said, crumpling up the letter again and throwing it on the table.

"Both... She hasn't been the same since 1745..."

"An' whose fault is 'at?"

The Scotsman moved to stand in front of his brother, interested in hearing his answer.

"Yours..." England folded his arms.

"Nae, yoors!" Scotland looked mildly insulted for a brief moment.

"I'm not the one who let the Jacobites into Newcastle and convinced her to join in..." England looked away from him.

"I'm nae th' wun 'at allowed his siblings tae git locked up an' tortured has punishment fur said events..." Scotland grabbed his shirt, forcing the blonde to look at him again.

If there was one thing that would anger Scotland, Ireland or any personification that was involved with the Jacobites, it was the mentioning of the aftermath. Scotland and Ireland would get particularly emotional about the events that took place all those years ago. It wasn't so much the fact that they themselves had been tortured; it was the fact that their children and siblings were tortured alongside them.

"Yas both tuh blame..." Wear-side snarled at the two, breaking the tension.

The two bickering brothers looked at the auburn in the corner; they hadn't even realised he had been sitting there. Unlike Tyne-side, Wear-side was quieter and chose his moments to strike- unlike his brother, the comments were often more hurtful and factual.

Tyne and Wear being identical twins meant they were nearly completely identical. The only differences being that Tyne had more of a baby-face, while Wear had a faint birthmark on his narrower jaw. The twin's face was pale and littered with freckles like his brother; his eyes were a dull shade of green and currently shooting daggers at the bickering brothers.

Aside from the odd physical feature, like freckles and birthmarks, the twins' personalities were the real difference between the two. Tyne-side was loud and sociable; popular with anyone who didn't find his impulsiveness annoying. Wear-side, on the other hand, was still sociable, but he was quieter and less impulsive. His moodiness and posture made it easy to tell him apart from his brother. Wear-side never walked his full height either- his shoulders were always hunched over even whilst sitting.

Even though the twins were apart England found it almost impossible to not compare them. For two personifications that looked so similar, they really couldn't be more different. Wear-side continued to sit hunched over in his seat on the other side of the room, glaring at to two countries. A playing card was in his hand, the rest being on the table next to him. He had obviously been playing solitaire before he was disturbed by their argument.

Scotland slowly uncurled his fingers, releasing the Englishman. England sat looking as if he was trying to hide the fact that he was very offended that he had been put in his place by someone who was currently a personification of nothing.

Scotland moved to the other side of the room and started raiding an old brown bag for a pack of cigarettes. Wear-side went back to playing his card game as if he hadn't said anything at all. England glared at the auburn

"What gives you the right to say that?" The blonde spat

"Unlike yee twa ah wasn't personally involved in the Jacobite affairs." England could almost see the smug look on the auburn's face as Wear-side turned over another card.

Scotland lit up a cigarette.

"He diz hae a point..." The redhead interrupted

England looked at Scotland taking a long first drab on the cancer stick. He then focused on the bag behind the ginger personification.

Scotland exhaled and leant back against the wall. The sound of Wear-side re-shuffling the deck after failing to complete his game came from behind him.

"Oi, did you get that from my bag?" England exclaimed.

"Wa diz it matter?" Scotland replied.

"It does you git! You're smoking my cigarettes!" England stood up

"An'?"

"They're mine! Not yours! Get your own!"

"Whutever."

England launched himself at his brother. Wear looked on calmly as the two rolled round on the floor, yelling and struggling. As he looked on, the odd punch was thrown.

"YOU BLOODY WANKER!" England yelled when he had Scotland pinned to the ground for a brief moment.

"YER BASSA!" was Scotland's reply, followed by a fist.

Wear stopped shuffling the cards and watched as the two continued to fight and roll around on the ground. He couldn't help but smirk as it reminded him of the time Northumberland rugby tackled Yorkshire during an all-English Christmas party. Although Northumberland ended up losing, Yorkshire had avoided her for a month before he dared to annoy her again.

Meanwhile, in London

Northumberland stood in front of the War Council. The room was filled with cigarette and cigar smoke. She enjoyed the odd cigarette, but here she felt like she was going to choke with so much smoke in the air. The room was bright; she wasn't used to being in a window filled room with the low sun warming the side of her face and blinding her slightly.

She knew as she stood there she was being silently discriminated against for being a woman. As she stood there, she saw some of the council members whisper into each others' ears whilst staring directly at her. Even in full military dress, her bust still gave away her gender. She had wrapped a strip of scrap material around her chest in a failed attempt to make her figure look manlier; she was now beginning to feel far too hot in the stuffy room because of it. Luckily she had been commanded, to leave her hat outside the room.

"Why on earth has he chosen you over County Durham?" One member eventually asked

Northumberland couldn't help but look a little surprised. She thought that Durham's ill mental health had been general knowledge to anyone who knew of the personification's existence…

"Wey, Sir,he got shot in the Napoleonic wars an' nivvor canny got owor it." She lied, looking directly in front of her and not making eye-contact with anyone.

The blonde cringed, realising that most of these men (being from the South) wouldn't understand if she spoke too quickly. She had a feeling she might be asked to repeat her answer as several members looked around in pure confusion, not understanding what she had said. Hopefully, they would buy the lie and forget that County Durham never personally fought in the Napoleonic wars.

"Then, why hasn't England picked another male county to take his place?" Another 'gentlemen' asked.

"The othor male counties hev neewheor neor as mich experience in battle as wor, Sir." She felt her jaw lock and unlock.

This time, the members of the council started whispering together, trying to understand what she said. The Northerner thought she had been speaking slowly enough for them to comprehend- apparently she was wrong.

The same council member raised his hand and the room became silent once again. He gave her a friendly smile, as if he was trying to help her prove herself to the rest of the council.

"And, why would that be?" He asked.

She inhaled though her nose and held her breath, 'trying to think of a reply that would satisfy these 'gentlemen' and prove she could do it, even if she was female. If she could convince them, they'd let her get on with her job and she could leave.

She slowly exhaled.

"Ah, wes yen iv the Seven Kingdoms. The Kingdom iv Neerthumbria, if yee must knar." It felt good to say her old name again. "A've avoided Roman invasion. Mare battles hev been fowt in me hyem than any othor english county. Ah wes at evarry yen iv those battles." She felt he jaw lock. "A've been fowt owor an' fowt against. A've invaded an' been invaded. If yee remember correctlyit wes England that cyem tuh wor an' asked wor tuh tek eez place. Ah believe yee shud respect wishes as he knows what's best fo' eez hyem an' its people."

The blonde stood there, impressed by her speech. How she didn't manage to become a kingdom again was beyond her. Northumberland couldn't help but let her mind drift as she imagined all things she would do if she was still a country.

The council sat in silence, no-one daring to ask questions about the day-dreaming county in front of them. The Northern Counties were known for having their heads in the clouds and having violent mood swings if disturbed. The moody look on her face already suggested she was angry that she had to explain herself to them. One council member wondered if she was thinking how she would reap vengeance on them all for under-estimating her abilities.

After a while, it became apparent that the daydreaming County wasn't going to snap and harm them in any way. The council silently agreed that the meeting should come to an end.

"Well, Miss Kirkland, you will be expected to head to Egypt within the next few weeks..." the first council member said slowly "You are dismissed."

"Thank yee, Sir." she came to attention and exited the room.

On the other side of the door, she grabbed her cap and basically ran out if the building. She needed to contact England and inform him of what had happened.

February 13th 1915

Northumberland was officially her way to the Dardanelles with Hamilton. He was one of the men in charge of the attack besides Churchill. They hadn't sad a word to each other since they were introduced. Overall Northumberland didn't care; she was fine sitting in awkward silences with people she didn't know well. If she was honest, she loved not talking- socialising had never been something she entirely understood. She did have the occasional urge to talk to people, but only sporadically and usually with family members or seemingly friendly females. She hated travelling by sea, but how else was she to get to the Dardanelles? Aeroplanes were unreliable; the average life-expectancy of a pilot was about two weeks.

The blonde sat in her cabin. She'd demanded not to be disturbed unless it was urgent. She doubted anything would happen. She planned to attempt update her diary and get as much shut eye as possible. Every day since the blonde had learnt how to read and write she had kept a diary, filling them with daily events, along with her thoughts and feelings on those said events. To her the diaries were filled with private information, and to everyone else none of the entries made much sense. The pages were packed with nicknames, jargon and private jokes.

Northumberland couldn't help but sit in her bunk and wonder whether her little brother ever received her letter about the events of the war meeting. After all it had nearly been a month since the letter was sent. He should have replied by now…

Meanwhile...

England was in the stuffy room again. It was more crowded this time, filled with troops, socialising, playing cards and being men. Most of them had just come in from a cigarette break. Due to the room being quite warm, the unpleasant smells of sweat and smoke began to fill the blonde's nostrils.

Durham City sat opposite him. Through no fault of her own she had been excluded from the friendship groups. The men just didn't socialise with her, whether it was because of her human age or the fact she was female, England didn't know. He felt sorry for her. The only people that made an effort to talk to her were himself, other personifications and the occasional friendly trooper. Unknown to the blonde Durham City sat and scowled at anyone brave enough to come near her. The small girl didn't actually like talking to new people and would often give a short, sharp, sarcastic answer.

Durham sat as if she was hiding something from him. She didn't made eye contact or even look at the blonde. England wanted to question the unusual behaviour, but wasn't sure how to go about it in such a busy room. If she liked Scotland he would have had the red head deal with the problem.

Durham City wasn't the only problem England had at the moment. He hadn't heard from his older sister, Northumberland, in quite some time. The country was becoming concerned about her lack of communication with him. If she ran the show by herself, it could end in disaster. Scotland had told him to stop worrying, but England couldn't help but think something was off...

Durham had been twitching more than usual lately... She'd started referring to others by their last name or rank too... England looked on at the city as her right eye twitched uncontrollably when she looked around the room. Her head occasionally jerked to the right as well.

Wear-side, who was leaning against a nearby wall, had been distracted from his conversation with his fellow troops. He looked at the younger girl as if it was something to be concerned about. He looked over her from head-to-toe multiple times, as if he understood why she was twitching uncontrollably.

Wear then focused on England. England noticed his unusual behaviour, the twitching girl just in the corner of his eye. Wear mouthed something at him... England frowned, missing what he said the first time...

"Talk tuh hor..." Wear repeated.

England nodded and turned back the twitching city. Well, Durham was nearly convulsing out of her seat, her body was making involuntary movements so often... You'd almost think she was having a fit...

"Durham..." England started.

"'ere man!" She pulled an opened letter out of her pocket and shoved on the table. "Teke it! Ah cannut stand ir anymoreh!" she hissed.

The only reason the girl in front the nation hadn't yelled and stormed off was that Scotland had appeared the moment the letter was placed on the table. England didn't even know where his older sibling had come from... For a brief moment he dared to think the Scotsman had used magic... But Scotland wouldn't have been so reckless to use in front of humans.

England turned his attention back to the letter in front of him... Judging by the neatly scrawled handwriting on the envelope, the letter was from Northumberland... Could it be the letter he should have received of any updates?

England looked up at the city "Durham how long have you had this?"

Durham didn't answer. Scotland appeared to lose interest, as if the letter wasn't off who he thought. He was probably only hanging around because he too recognised Northumberland's hand writing... Durham City still twitched a little, obviously knowing the letter's contents...

"Ow!" Durham turned to punch Scotland after he jabbed her arm.

"Weel, answer yer faither!" Scotland commanded, Durham City stopped in her tracks after realising who it was.

The city punched him anyway before frowning, rubbing her arm and looking at the floor.

"Jist owwah three weeks..."

"Three weeks... You've been keeping private information from me for three weeks?"

"Whey, Ah heard yer torkin' aboot Northumberland a wheel before t' letta came and yeh seemed canny stressed sa Ah though' yeh'd relax mair if yeh didn't knaa..." Her eyes began to water.

England sighed internally at this. It wasn't the fact that his daughter was upset, but sometimes she just got so angry that when she couldn't yell or storm out the room, she'd cry in rage... Something that appeared to be common in most Northern, female, personifications...

England ignored the crying girl and pulled the letter out its envelope. Judging by how creased it was, Durham had decided to try and throw it away before trying to straighten out and keep it...

Once he straightened it out he glared at Durham City before reading the letter's contents.

"Dear Lil' Iggy,
I'm writing to inform you of the meeting I have just had with the War Council. They were mainly questioning me on why I have to carry out the campaign instead of another male personification. They also tried to find out the cause of County Durham's mental health. Don't worry, I lied.
Also, I have been informed that I shall be travelling to Egypt within the next few weeks, to meet with British and ANZAC troops... Apparently I'm meant to meet with a Canadian province as well... I never got told who... I'm assuming it will be Quebec, or one of the larger provinces. I don't know whether you know anything else... I don't want to give away too much in case this ends up in the wrong hands... So that's it.
Your big sis,
North
P.S: In case I forget. Keep an eye on Tyneside; he always acts weird on Saint Valentine's Day... No matter who he's with... I don't even know why..."

England couldn't believe it... He'd been waiting nearly a month for an update and Durham City had had it the whole time. Fair enough, she'd given him an explanation, but surely she could have seen how annoyed he was becoming when he wasn't being told anything. He couldn't help but wonder why she didn't cave sooner... Or why Tyne-side acted "weird" on Valentine's Day... Or, more importantly, why Scotland had taken such and interest to the missing letter until he found out who it was from...

England wasn't sure whether his sister had been waiting for a reply. The letter didn't really tell him whether she wanted a response. She mentioned not going for a while, so maybe he could get a letter to her before she left…

England jumped out his seat and side-stepped out of the crowded room... Most of the men smelt like stale cigarettes. England couldn't help but look disgusted as he went past one trooper who smelt like an ash tray. 'I hope to God I don't smell that horrid after a tab...'He thought as he left the room, leaving Scotland and Durham city lost within the smog of stale smoke and body odour.

The hope that he could still communicate with his sister before it was too late made everything else seem like a blur. He didn't realise he had passed France or Tyne as he rushed down the narrow corridor, to his office. His eyes didn't focus on anyone else until he saw a girl outside his office door.

"Bah!" England screeched to a halt, before he trampled the smaller blonde.

He looked down to realise it was London. His daughter looked him over from head-to-toe, frowning and failing to understand why he did an impression of a sheep as he came to a stop. England was breathing more heavily than usual. He didn't realise he had worked up such a sweat just walking to his office.

"Dad?" She sounded unsure.

"Yes?" England replied, trying to sound normal.

London went rummaging through her bag trying to find something. Her military uniform was far too big for her, even the satchel she was looking through seemed over-sized. London, regardless of being around since Roman times was still so young… She didn't even look eighteen.

She finally pulled a letter out and held it in front of his face. "I was told to give you this ASAP."

England took it.

"Err... Thank you..."

After all that time waiting for a letter England got two in the same day. The blonde stood looking at the envelope, so focused on trying to figure out who it was from that he didn't notice London had left him.

He opened the office door and disappeared behind it, not even looking up while doing so. The nation didn't know who it was from. It didn't look like any of his siblings had sent it...

[N/A: Northumberland doesn't salute when she leaves the council office because she doesn't have her beret/hat/cap on, you're not meant to salute unless you're wearing a beret/hat/cap you're just meant to come to attention to show you've at least realised a person of importance is there... So my time in the Air Cadets did come in use after all...

North's not a fan socialising with unfamiliar people... Even other women... She does go for a night out every now and again but she prefers solitude after seeing the mess her siblings make of themselves after a night out.
In Northumberland's head she speaks perfect English, as far as she's concerned it's her accent that people don't understand, not the Geordie jargon she uses.
I actually went down south recently, Southerners from Bristol, Cornwall and Chester sound so posh, they also sometimes struggle to understand what I was saying. One woman from Bristol loved my accent, which was the first time that's ever been said to me... And probably the last because the guy I met the next day had no idea what me and my mam where talking about...

I don't think translations are really needed in this chapter, there's not really any new Scottish or Geordie jargoon in this... But if you need a hand just ask, its what I'm hear for! Don't forget to review!]