Tomorrow Will Be Kinder (I Promise)


"This way Wil!" England shouts to the tiny girl on the too big bike. The girl gives him a toothy grin and taking a wobbly turn, she squeals as her bike begins to tip. Before she can, though, North quickens his strolling pace so he's at Scotland's side in a second and helps her right herself again. Grinning at the two as they approach, England tucks his hands into his pockets and begins to walk on the other side of the bike. "How do you like cycling?" he asks Scotland.

"It's fun!" She laughs, face red from exercise and joy.

England chuckles. "I'm glad to hear it." Then, craning his neck to look at North, who has a hand on the back of the bike, he inquires, "What about you, Patrick? How are you holding up?"

North him a quick smile. "…It's not awful," he concedes.

"That's lovely to hear," Arthur says, looking around the little park. While not a bright and sunny day, it's not too cold and, occasionally, a ray of sun peeks through the gathered clouds.

Pedaling faster, Scotland wavers for a moment before correcting herself. "Can we come back 'morrow?" she asks.

"If it's not raining," England answers. Then, to himself, he mutters, "And you're still a girl."

Looking to his teenage brother, he inquires, "Know any good pubs around here?"

North bobs his head. "Yeah, a couple streets right o' here," he says, pointing at where the path turns into two.

Smiling at his brother, England does something he rarely does when sober, he tosses an arm around his brother's shoulder. North stares at him with a spark of surprise in his eyes. "Excellent," is all England says.

"Look!" Scotland shouts, pointing to a little pond. Stopping her bike, she gets off, leaving it by the path's edge to run to the pond. Kneeling down by pond's lip, she wraps her skinny arms around her legs and points to a mother duck and a gaggle of ducklings. "Aren't they sweet?" she coos, looking to her brothers.

Meandering over with North, England smiles at his sister. She's really a good girl. "They are," England agrees.

Wilma smiles up at him. "I'd take ya ta ponds sometimes when ya were very little," she says.

"Oh?" England mutters, thinking on it, he vaguely does remember spending quite a bit of time watching ponds (though, he always preferred fields where rabbits lived).

"Uh-huh." She nods, gazing at the quacking creatures bobbing in the water. "Ya were the only one who'd sit with me for mo' than a few minutes."

England hums. "I suppose we've always had more patience for things of that sort."

Scotland glances at him. "Yeah? Just us?" she repeats. England nods, not completely following.

Getting up from the ground and dusting the grass from her jeans, Scotland approaches them, taking England's hand in hers. "I like that," she informs him. "It's nice sharin' somethin'."

England squeezes the small hand and swallows hard. He wishes they could always be so open with another, in fact, he wishes he could be so open with all his siblings. "I like it too," he whispers to her.

Wilma smiles eve brighter than before. "I'm hungry, are we goin' home soon?"

England shakes his head. "I thought we'd hit a pub, does that sound good?"

Scotland hums in contemplation. "I can have fish?" she tests.

England nods. "If that's what you want."

Scotland lets go of his hand and hurries to grab her bike. "Then let's go!"

Letting the girl take lead, Arthur and Patrick follow behind her after a shared, bemused chuckle.


Humming one of those songs she heard on the thing called a "radio" Scotland bounces between her two brothers. England told her not to ride on the walk, 'cause it wasn't polite, but said she could ride it again through the park on their way back to North's flat. She stops suddenly, staring at a man playing an instrument on the street. Watching, she smiles back when he grins in her direction. She feels England bump her shoulder. Glancing up, she sees that England is holding out what he called a "pound" to her in his hand.

"Tip the good fellow," England says with a wink.

Smiling at her brother, Scotland takes the money and drops it into the instrument's case.

"Thank ye," the man says.

Grinning toothily, Wilma bobs her head at him. "Ya welcome." Stepping back, she skips to her brother and takes one of his hands.

"Are there a lot of people like him?" she asks.

He nods. "Oh yes, even more so in London."

Scotland frowns. "But that's his city," she whispers.

England looks at her, eyes clouding. "It was," he agrees, "but it's my capital these days."

Leaning against his side, Scotland can't help but wonder if anything she remembers is still the same. "Do they look the same?" she asks.

Plucking her from the ground for a surprise embrace, England holds her with sudden ferocity. "No," he croaks. "Hardly at all."

Taking a breath, the girl takes comfort in this information. "Good," she mumbles. "I like that." Her Breath fanning across his neck, she murmurs, "It makes it seem farther away–longer ago."

She feels his chin tremble in her hair. "I'm happy for you," he says.

Pulling away, she looks into those painful, but favorite green eyes of hers and smiles wider than she ever has before. "I'm happy for ya."

He stops and stares at her. "You mean that," he says.

It's strange, Scotland thinks. He seems so awed by this. Scotland, who's come to adore these big boys who feel so safe and gentle, can only smile a little. "I wouldn't say so if I didn't, would I?" she asks

Arthur kisses her cheek. She returns the gratitude one better, a peck to the nose. Everyone laughs.


This feels like a lighter chapter, doesn't it? Expect this to be done in another few chapters, I think. Hey, thanks IcarusWing and Yunike08 for your reviews, I appreciate it.

Thank you very much for reading everybody and review! :)

P.S. If your into my RotG stuff, I have a poll for what I should do next on my page.

EDITED: 2/7/16