Author's Notes: Jackidy asked for this... I hope you aren't disappointed with the result. Aeron, Iain, Sean, Akshaya and Michael belong to Jackidy, but I have permission to use them.


Until you come and sit awhile with me

The room was quiet, the two figures in the bed completely still as the weak sun rays bathed the house. One of the figures stirred, green eyes peering into the dark room and his companion. A strand of hair was waving softly in front of his bedmate's face and he picked it gently, wavy blond hair almost impossibly fine between his fingers. Sean stayed like that, hand frozen as he contemplated his sleeping companion.

It was rare that England adopted a feminine form, but not an unwanted occasion. She was beautiful after all and as fierce as she ever was when male. No, his dissatisfaction was not because of how England looked but the lingering distrust he felt in his heart.

Sean had spent the last ten years in his country, dying day by day as his people starved and left for better lands. As the years passed his resentment toward his younger brothers grew, only Scotland understanding his now cold aptitude towards England and Wales. The pair had faired well during The Hunger, like all of Europe and it seemed like only Ireland had wasted until almost nothing remained of him.

England shifted, snuggling deeper into her pillow, Ireland letting her hair return to its former place. There had been a time when he would had embrace her, when he would had been content to lay all day with her. But now his skin crawled, his hands itching to harm the peaceful, healthy creature. Sean growled, fist white as he stood, careful to not wake the nation, and left, the house once again silent as he disappeared down the street.

England woke a few hours later to a empty house and aching body.


"You have been avoiding us." It was a simple statement as far as statements went, but the red head could feel the accusation in them.

"It's your imagination." Ireland denied, not meeting the Welsh's eyes.

"Sean, look at me." But the man pushed him away, exiting the kitchen without a word. "Sean!"

"Look, I don't have anything to say to you! You are just imaging things!" Sean moved to the front door, wanting nothing more than to leave the house, his stomach burning with barely suppressed fury.

"Where?! Where are you going?! You haven't been home for more than an hour!" Aeron demanded, stepping on the threshold to block his exited. "Ireland!"

"THIS IS NOT MY HOME!" Sean roared, pushing Aeron roughly out his way. The Welsh hit the floor hard, a yelp escaping him. The older male paused, pushing down the small part who wanted to apologize to his younger brother.

"…you blame us." Ireland turned, eyes widening but before he could respond the door was slammed shut, a click indicating that Wales had locked the door. Sean stared at the door silently, guilt and rage battling within him before he left, knuckles white and expression hard.

Aeron sighed when the other nation finally left the yard, concerned green eyes trailing him. He didn't want to admit it but he was worried. And maybe a little afraid. Sean had grew more violent during the famine years but this was the first time he had outright hurt him during their fights. They had never been gentle, yes, but they tried to avoid outright violence.

With a sigh the nation reentered the kitchen, putting the kettle on, deciding that a tea would help him calm down. Thankfully, Iain wasn't home or a fight would had broke up between the two men. Aeron was perfectly capable of looking after himself, but the amount of destruction the two left after their quarrels was worse that the one left by sugar high colonies.

The sound of a door opening distracted him, emerald green eyes vigilant as he peered out the kitchen's door. The footsteps were uneven and he heard more than once the sound of someone hitting a table or a chair. Wales frowned, there were no colonies at the house at the moment. The only one at the house beside him was Arthur.

"England?" Aeron whispered as his brother descended the stairs, eyes blank as long wavy hair tried to strangle him. Arthur only lost power over his shape when he fell sick and sickness for the English meant sickness for the Welsh in the future.

"Hum?" Arthur grunted, falling ungracefully on a chair and placing his head on his arms. "Wut?"

"Are you feeling alright?" The nation made a sound at the back of his throat, possibly trying to be reassuring. "Forget it. Come on, let's get you back in bed."

Wales became increasingly worried when his brother didn't protest, the two making it back to his room in one piece. Since England hadn't bothered to change from his pyjamas before going downstairs, the twin was able to lie him down with relative ease.


The house was strangely subdued as he entered the building, only a sleeping Michael on the couch. Hong Kong was one of Arthur's most resent colonies, a sullen kid who loved to play with firecrackers which almost caused the former pirate to have a heart attack. Normally the boy was keep under surveillance by either Aeron or Arthur, but today the kid appeared to be alone.

"Michael." Iain whispered as he shock the boy gently, the kid groaning as he woke up. "Where are Aeron and Arthur?"

"Dun't know." The toddler answered crossly, snuggling into his improvised bed. "Sleepy."

"Come on, Arthur will have my head if I let you sleep in here." Iain sighed and picked the colony up, gland the kid was small enough to weight almost nothing at all. Michael didn't bother to complain, falling sleep almost immediately while the Scot carried him. "Now, where are those two…"

Scotland climbed the stairs, the house still mostly silent until a sudden bang come from the back of the house. Michael startled, the little Asian's face forming an angry, but adorable, pout. Iain grinned, following the explosions' sound to a room whose door had been blown off. "Oi! What happened here?"

"Nothing!" Christopher and Alexander answered in tandem, smiling innocently as smoke rouse from a table. "What makes you say that?"

"Damned sprogs." As long as he wasn't the one held responsible… "Where are Arthur and Aeron… or Akshaya for the matter?"

"Uncle left with mom a couple weeks ago and Untie Akshaya is cooking dinner." New Zealand informed while Australia tried to make a chair catch on fire.

"Thanks... Chris, if you lite that up be sure to know how to turn that off first." The Australian boy nodded and Iain left the room, Hong Kong fast sleep in his arms. He placed him on his bed and headed to the kitchen, finding the Indian woman on the stove, British North America settling the table.

"Welcome home." Matthew greeted him softly, short wavy hair rustling against his face. Akshaya grinned at him, stirring a casserole with one hand while she drank tea with the other.

"Hey, where are Arthur and Aeron?" Iain asked yet again, by now feeling vaguely concerned. "By the way, Michael is sleeping in his room and Christopher is trying to set the house on fire."

"I better go stop him then." The younger male stated, picking his pet polar bear and leaving the older nations alone.

"Arthur fell sick about a week after you left. Aeron took him to the summer house so he could rest." India informed him, turning the fire off and pointing to a cupboard. "Help me out."

"Sick?" Scotland frowned, he hadn't heard of anything in England that would had made his younger brother sick enough for Aeron to take him out the house. "What's wrong with him?"

"No idea."


The blond sighed, purring the weak soup on a plate, placing it on a tray and climbing the stairs carefully as not to spill it. He knocked gently on the door, but no-one answered so he entered to find Arthur fast sleep on his bed. The male had grown worse during the weeks they had been at the house and Wales worried that maybe, just maybe, England wouldn't put through. While he didn't remember his mother, Sean had told them that she had grown weaker and weaker until she simply wasn't there anymore.

England had been unable to held food down for nearly two weeks now and had grown dangerously weak. Aeron had began to feel the strain of looking after his twin all day long, but there was no-one he felt safe calling for help. Akshaya and Matthew where already looking after their colonies and Iain was dealing with some issues in Scotland. Sean he did not dare to even think off, his side and back aching fiercely still.

He had thought of calling Portugal, or hell, even France, but he refrained. If push came to shove he would go to his brothers, no matter any misgivings he may have. "Arthur." The male placed the tray on the night table and shock his brother gently. "It's time for dinner."

"Aeron?" The English whispered softly, eyes unfocused. "Wher-re is Sean?"

The Welsh bit his lip, bringing his twin into his arms and feeding him slowly. "He isn't here Artie…"

"I waaant him." Arthur protested childishly, pouting but taking his much needed nourishment. Wales feared that he would develop a fever next but Arthur stayed strangely cold.

When the male finished, Aeron placed the tray back on the night table, running his hands on the sticky, tangled hair. What was he suppose to do?


"Master Aeron insisted that the staff moved to the main house." The head butler, a man named Alan, informed him. Iain had arrived to the summer house only to find it almost completely devoid of life. "He insist on taking care of Master Arthur on his own."

"How is he?" It was obvious that the older man disapproved of his lord actions, but was to polite to say so to his brother's face.

"Master Aeron doesn't aloud us to see him…" Iain nodded, his brother had always been fiercely protective of his twin… When they weren't busy making war against each other. "But Ms. Mills caught a glimpse of him. He is in bad shape, Master Iain, and I fear Master Aeron isn't far behind."

"I see." Alan paused, peering inside the kitchen before stepping aside, bowing politely to the seemingly younger man. "Thank you Alan."

"It's simply my duty, my Lord."

But Scotland didn't heard him, eyes locked on the exhausted form of his brother, the male slumped ungracefully on the kitchen table. "Aeron." He whispered, trying to not startle the male but the Welsh still shot a foot into the air.

"Ia-ain!" And Iain found himself hugging a sobbing Welsh a second later, the younger male a complete wreck in his arms. "Iain! He isn't, oh god, he isn't! I, I don't know what, I… I!"

"Shuu, shuu." He picked him up and sat down heavily on a chair, Wales burring his face into his shirt. "Aeron, please, tell me what is wrong with him."

"I don't know! His country is fine! There is no economic struggle, no famine, no nothing! Bu-ut… Arthur… He keeps on getting worse!" Iain sighed, wrapping his arms tightly around the Welsh. It was obvious the man had run himself raged taking care of their sick brother. "I don't know how long I can keep it up!"

"Come on, let's go check on him." Iain frankly was scared of what he would see, but he followed the Welsh up the stairs and in to the English bedroom.

The window was open, a gentle breeze airing the room. In the center of the bed, a sleeping figure laid, face as pale as the sheets underneath him. Arthur had lost a lot of weight, his face sunk from the lack of nourishment. The air was thick with magic, fairies, unicorns and dwarfs keeping guard over the ill nation. A Dryad was checking his temperature, but when the brothers entered the room the magical creatures left, wanting to give them some time alone.

"Arthur?" Scotland shock, he had never seen his brother so still, only the times where the black death struck coming close.

"Se-ean?" Came the soft answer, half liden eyes peering at him before closing again. "Iain."

"You sound disappointed Artie!" Iain forced himself to sound cheerful as he bent to kiss the other in the forehead. "Don't tell me you prefer his company to mine?"

England hummed in response, snuggling deeper into his bed. "I'm tired." He said eventually, already half sleep. "Soo tired."

Scotland and Wales left the room soon after, an elf taking their place as they left. Aeron seemed ready to burst in to tears again so Iain hugged him loosely around the shoulders. "It's ok, little brother."

"No it's not!" Aeron protested hotly, tears running down his face. "He, he keeps getting worst! I have tried everything I could think of…"

"Shuu, shuu." Iain sighed, wondering what their idiot brother had landed himself in this time. "Look, I will stay to help you, okay? I'm sure between the two of us we can make him healthy again!"

"…No…" Wales shook his head, rubbing his eyes roughly. "Go home and drag Ireland's idiot ass here. England has been asking for him for weeks."

"You sure?" Scotland didn't want to leave only to return to two sick brothers instead of one. "We can send a messenger…"

"No, a messenger can't knock him out and drag his fat ass if necessary." Aeron smiled weakly at him, no doubt wishing to be the one to kick said Irish ass. "Just… don't take to long?"

"Sure thing little brother."


"Arthur?" Aeron whispered softly at his brother when he found him out of bed for the first time in weeks. "What are you doing out of bed?"

The English man shook his head, hugging himself tightly as he stared emptily out the window. Aeron approached him quietly, grabbing a quilt from the bed and wrapping it around them, the Welsh supporting most of the English weight, or what little remained of it. "Come on, let's get you back to bed."

"Aeron." Wales stopped as he felt his brother began to shake, face hidden behind a curtain of hair. When he hugged the nation, the female buried her face in to his shoulder, but no tears damped his thin sleeping shirt. Aeron ran his hands through her hair, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Aeron…"

"What's wrong?" The other nation whispered in to her ear, fear and dread missing in his gut. What had reduced the fierce nation to this state? "Brother."

England didn't answer, instead taking his hand and placing it over her stomach, luminous forest green eyes meeting wide emerald ones. "What? What I'm suppose to do?"

Wales bit his lip, both brothers had felt the tension in Ireland the past few years, a tension that threatened to explode at any second. But there was no fucking way in hell the bastard was going to let his brother deal with this alone, not without the Welsh coming after his head at least. "Well, the Haggis bastard will have to take responsibility of course!"

"But Sean…"

"I don't care what his sodding issue is!" Aeron growled, tightening his hold on his twin, if the Irish dared to put a single hand on his brother… "Besides! I'm here, ain't I? And the hairy bastard too!"

"I suppose." Morgana agreed, grinning weakly at him, looking more like her own self as she strained up. Her eyes turned sharp, the military commander, the pirate, the empire was there, fierce as the sea and unforgiven like the storm. "Yes, indeed."

Aeron smirked back, kissing the woman softly in the lips before dragging her back to bed. The two felt sleep not long after, but not even the fairies dared to enter the room, the air thick with magic and power. The empire slept on, unconcerned, savage smiles on their near identical faces.


During the two weeks it took Scotland to return with Ireland, England finally began to show signs of recovery. Wales, whose nerves had been stomped, fried and then fed to a dragon, had priced the gods before collapsing for a few days, completely exhausted. It was with great relief that the house welcomed the arrival of the two nations, the males tripping over themselves as they run up to Arthur's, and now Aeron's too, room.

They found Aeron slept, or he had been sleeping at least, on Morgana's lap, the female working on some sort of embroidery project. Scotland almost collapsed in relief, but Ireland frowned darkly at what he saw. When he had last seen the nation, maybe three months ago, she had been completely healthy, if always on the thin side. Now, she looked like a strong breeze would carry her off.

"About bloody time you arrived!" Aeron grouched, climbing off the bed and dragging himself over Scotland. "Come on! You are going to help me prepare dinner!"

"But Aeron!" Iain protested, but Aeron ignored him, dragging the taller nation by the ear, muttering under his breath all the time.

"Hello." Ireland nodded, sitting down on the bed, inspecting England carefully. The nation fidgeted, dodging his eyes as she covered herself with a sweater. "I'm sorry Scotland dragged you here."

"I'm not." Sean scowled, hugging the nation to his chest, wanting to hit the pretty idiot's head but refraining. "Damn it Morgana, you are skin and bones!"

"It's not my fault!" England defended herself, glaring hotly at him. "It's all your bloody fault!"

"What?!" Sean protested, barely ducking in time to avoid a whack to the head. "What did I do?!"

"You! You bloody wanker! I, I, I ought to castrate you!" Ireland was about to retort when Morgana grabbed his hand and pushed it toward her abdomen. "This is what you did!"

A nation, there was the bloody feeling of a nation within England.

England was pregnant.

"Oh Lord."

"Oh god, AERON! SEAN FAINTED!"


After Sean had rejoined them in the land of living and Morgana was placed on an armchair in the sitting room, the four sat staring at each other. Aeron was glaring at his older brothers, daring them to say the wrong things as the female shifted uneasily under their eyes. Iain's mouth was opened rather unattractively as he stared, Sean looking ready to faint again at a moment notice.

"This is all your fault!" Wales scowled, pointing angrily at Ireland. "If she doesn't castrate you I will!"

"Bu-uut how?" Iain spluttered finally, gapping at the blushing nation before him.

"How the hell do you think?" Aeron demanded, crossing his arms and looking at the Scot like he was an idiot, which he was in the Welsh opinion.

"Sean?" Morgana whispered and the two bickering nations felt silent, ready to intervened if things got ugly. "What… what are you going to do?"

"What? What kind of question is that?!" Sean demanded, finally finding his voice. Aeron glared darkly at him, but refrained from hitting the Irish… for the moment at least.

"I mean… Uh…" Morgana squirmed again, but refused to turn her eyes away from his, it would be admitting defeat. If only Ireland knew to what exactly.

"You are going to take responsibility of this or so help me!" Aeron cried, hissing like an irate cat and hugging England to himself. "Don't you dare escape to your bloody island like, like, well, like the bastard you are!"

"What?!" Sean gapped at him, before shooting up from the chair and tackling the pair to the floor, Morgana and Aeron complaining loudly at the treatment.

"CAREFUL YOU IDIOT!" Wales roared, thankful that the female had landed on top him, even if his back was going to be complaining in the morning. "WHAT PART OF PREGNANT DIDN'T YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"OH MY GOD, I'M GOING TO BE A FATHER! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!" The three brothers blinked as the eldest began to shout and, was he doing a victory dance?! "OH GOD!" Morgana yelped as she was removed from her place on the floor and was spun in the air. "I LOVE YOU! A FATHER! I'M GOING TO BE A FATHER!"

"BUT ME DOWN YOU IDIOT!" England was turning rather green so Scotland hurried to remove the female from his brother's enthusiastic embrace.

"We have to prepare the clothes, a room, and oh GOD! I'M GOING TO BE A FA-" A solid whack to the head and Sean was on the floor again, Morgana glaring darkly as she held the broken chair on her hands.

"Iain, be a dear and trow him to the garden fountain, will you? And don't let him in to the house until he calms down."


"So~" Christopher was staring at his mother as he had never seen the woman before, which frankly he seldom did. "Uncle Sean knocked Mom up?"

"CHRISTOPHER!" Morgana roared, Akshaya trowing a book at him for his language.

"Hum, mom, I don't think that's good for the baby…" Matthew whispered, handing her a cup of freshly made tea.

"With you lot misbehaving like you do…" The British nation scowled but drowned her tea, Alexander wincing as she should had burned her throat with it but appeared completely unconcerned.

"I bet it will be as cute as his mother." Sean declared, kissing the nation on the cheek, much to England and his colonies displeasure. "Agh, come on dear."

"Go away." England ordered glaring darkly at him before tilting her head to the side. "Actually, forget that. Go make me some Surströmming."

"Wha-at?" Aeron had turned pale on his side, Iain a lovely shade of green. "Wha-at do you waa-ant to eat?"

"Surströmming you idiot."

It was going to be a long pregnancy.


Author's Notes: Arthur reacted badly to the pregnancy because the baby not only was of a nation who was just starting to recover from a famine but since the English were growing unpopular by the time, the baby was essentially rejecting his mother. Which is also the reason why England was calling for Ireland, the baby wanted his fatherland near him.