Wake up!

England had arrived at a muddy road side, to the driver's surprise at the location and his clothes.

A blue convertible was already badly parked at the road side, tilting slightly as one of the wheels had half gone into a shallow ditch. He sighed. Why Scotland owned a car with a removable roof in a country that always rains England would never know.

He paid the driver what he promised exactly. The drive had taken only 20 minutes because of the lack of traffic at 3 o'clock in the morning and the fact that they went over double the speed limit. The driver offered to help him to his destination after England almost collapsed, exiting the car but he refused. He made his way blindly into the darkness.

The place was blanketed with fog. He barely knew where he was going or if he had to the right place to begin with. The last time he was here was just after the Roman Empire left and he had gotten lost then. Luckily a glowing orb floated into view. It was a small delicate fairy with a lantern.

"Oh! Mister England! We didn't expect you to come ever visit here! Did you come to see Mister Scotland?"

"So Scotland is here?"

"Yes but he is much, much farther in. At the end of the path."

"Can you show me, please?"

"Of course! But I don't know the safe way for humans! I just fly over the bog ground."

"Oh… It can't be that bad, can it?"

"If you step in a bad place, you might end waist deep in mud. I'm sorry sir! Wait here and I will find someone else to guide you!" She flew off, leaving England along in the darkness in PJs and slippers. He wished she at least left him the small lantern. He shivered. His PJs were cotton and fairly warm but the mist clung to his skin and dampened the clothes and it was chilly.

He felt awkward, being alone in the dark but to his joy, the light returned with a couple of lights that walked along the ground. The fairy reappeared happily, with a young elf and a much older frowning elf. The old elf spoke in an annoyed voice.

"Sir, this fairy says you wish to see your mother's grave?" England kneeled down a little and tears came to his eyes from the pain. He was trying to be friendly to make the elf less grumpy.

"Yes. My brother should be there." The fairy buzzed excitably.

"See! I got good help, didn't I? Mr England!" England smiled at her sweetly.

"Yes, you did. I thank you." The fairy giggled happily before disappearing into the fog again. England stood up straight again, swearing a little under his breath at the pain. The older elf beckoned with his finger and the young elf, hung close to him. England followed after him.

"Is Scotland okay?" The older elf raised an eyebrow at him.

"That is a stupid question sir…" The blonde country looked surprised. Magical animals usually loved him and treated him with respect but this old elf seemed to be angry at him. "Of course he is not well. We have treated some of his wounds and cleaned him up but he will need to rest for a couple of days..."

"Only a couple of days?" England blurted out without thinking. He had seen the extent of Scotland's injuries, they had been really serious. The old elf sighed angrily.

"Yes. A week at the most. Mister Scotland is a fast healer because of Miss Britannia." The elf said Britannia's name as if in love. The young elf smiled at this and suppressed a small giggle.

"Because of his mother?" The elf stopped walking and looked England up and down, analysing before continuing showing the way.

"Miss Britannia is your mother too."

"I know."

The elf replied loudly and angrily. "Well act like you know then! You stupid brat! You are just too foolish to realise how powerful and magical her blood is! Yet do you thank her? She bore and raised you, gave you her body so you could be a damn country but you can't even be bothered visiting her grave! Ungrateful bastard!"

England was stunned by the small rant. He was starting to feel guilty now for ignoring this place for so long. The young elf talked for the first time.

"Grandfather is right even if his language was unnecessary." England mumbled an apology to which the old elf tsked at and told him to stay it to his mother. He was still curious about something though.

"How is our mother helping Scotland heal then? She has been dead for over a two millennia."

"I told you. It's in the blood. Your mother was very powerful and skilled at magic. Mister Scotland inherited this. As did you."

"He's performing magic? In that condition?"

"It's sub conscious."

The young elf spoke up to explain. "Out of the five of you, Scotland inherited the most magic qualities, then it is Wales, then you, sir, then North Ireland and Ireland who received the same amount."

"Huh. I didn't know that…"

"Pfft! That's because you never think about your roots!"

"Grandfather. You can lecture the boy but be politer. He is Britannia's son."

"Tsk! Don't remind me…" He mumbled quietly.

The young elf smiled slightly and looked up at England who was suddenly interested in his brother's magic. He knew that they used magic like him but he had assumed that they were at the same level. England asked the younger elf as he seemed to be the friendlier one of the two.

"Does this mean I use magic subconsciously too?"

"No. I highly doubt that, Sir. You do not need to worry about such things."

"But sometimes when I wake up… something magical has happened…"

"That's mainly because you were intoxicated, you brat. You were awake when you preformed the magic, you just can't remember it because you were bloody drunk."

"Yes. You should more careful of human spirits, Mister England. They affect your physical and mental health." England paused.

"You said worried before… Why would I be worried if I did use magic subconsciously? It would mean that I am powerful right? That would be a good thing." The young elf studied the blonde country now, with a small frown.

"Yes it would mean that you are powerful… However you would not be able to control what happens. It would be very dangerous for you and anyone around you." England looked ahead into the fog; the atmosphere was humming with energy. He felt his body tingle with power.

"Then what about Scotland?"

"Mr Scotland was blessed by Miss Britannia. To help him through life, she placed a magic limiter on him. It's a powerful seal that controls his magic levels. It weakens him a lot but at least it stops him from using magic subconsciously."

"But you just said he was using magic!" England countered.

"He is but that is because this place amplifies magic. Have you not felt stronger since arriving here?" England looked surprised. He had felt a lot stronger but he had assumed that he had hit his second wind. "The seal cannot cope with the increase in Mister Scotland's power so it doesn't work here."

"Oh. Does that mean he is dangerous at the moment?" He sounded worried. He didn't limp all the way here, just to be accidently cursed by his annoying, injured older brother who he had come to rescue.

"Potentially but the Fae are keeping him calm. They have been keeping him content and emotionally stable."

"Emotionally stable?"

"Yes. Emotions have a strong effect on how your magic acts. When you are angry, your magic has a negative effect that is usually rage engulfed and difficult to control. When you happy, your magic is more controllably and positive, it effects the surroundings in a better way."

"So you are keeping Scotland calm, to control his magic more?"

"Exactly, Sir."

They fell into silence now. They walked for another 15 minutes.

"Is he much farther ahead?" He sounded exhausted and in pain. His body was stressed and he was fed up with this damn fog that seemed to be endless.

"Only 5 minutes. Be patient!" The older elf snapped.

"Why is it so damn foggy?..." England complained in a grumpy tone. He was annoyed and angry with the long, blind walk.

"Mister Scotland wishes to hid so this fog was summoned. It is unintentional."

"Scotland summoned all this fog?" There was a ridiculously huge amount of fog. He knew that this place increased magical powers but this was insane.

"Yes.…"

They fell into another silence as a large round silhouette appeared. England squinted his eyes and stepped forward. The fog disappeared from his body suddenly. He stood on flat grassy land which was surrounded by a perfectly circular circle of fog. In the middle was a huge rock, decorated with metal flowers and against it leant a man with scarlet hair. His brother was surrounded by tiny fairies who buzzed around his head, panicked. His clothes were cleaned of all blood and he looked peacefully asleep. At least he almost did. On his cheeks were the faint glistening of tears running down his cheeks.

By his side, holding him gently in her arms, sat a shimmering blonde women in a blue dress. She was beautiful and horribly familiar; he swore she looked like him. Her outline was fuzzy though like she didn't really exist; it seemed she was just a hallucination brought to life by magic. England called out when he saw his brother, rushing over to him.

"Scotland?" The beautiful blonde mirage gasped as she was snuffed out of existence. Scotland's eyes flickered slightly as he began to wake up. He yelled louder.

"Wake up Scotland!" The Scotsman groaned as he woke up. England knelt in front of Scotland, with his face almost touching Scotland's.

"Wake up you git!" Scotland's eyes opened completely at the insult. His eyes widened at how close England was before his hands moved forward. England thought for a moment that he was going to be punched. He panicked and tried to move away but Scotland already had his arms around him.

"Wait!.. What? OWW!" To his surprise, he was pulled into a big hug. To his dismay, his brother was hugging him too tightly and it hurt like hell. He felt his brother whisper something quietly into his ear.

"Màthair…" He could feel his brother falling back to sleep. England tried struggling against him and yelling.

"What are you doing you wanker? OW!" Movement only caused him more pain. Scotland's breathing settled as he fell back to sleep.

"You could have at least let me go before falling asleep again!" He gave up when his body refused to move anymore. He looked up to his brother's face. He was still crying but it was more of a small tickle of water running from his eyes than proper tears. He looked happy anyway. The fairies seemed worried by the tiny tears. England was too annoyed at being trapped unwillingly by his brother.

"Help me!"

"We can't! Scotland is too deeply asleep!" Some of them wiped up the tears, which were slowly coming to a stop. He had rarely seen his brother cry. He guessed that this was probably only the third time in his whole life.

"… Why is he crying? I thought you guys were helping him stay happy…"

"We were!" They replied annoyed. "But then he began dreaming about his mother! Then he began crying!"

"He is having a nightmare?"

"No. He was having a good dream about Miss Britannia before you woke him up. He isn't dreaming at the moment."

"Then why was he crying!" England was frustrated. "If he is having a dream about Britannia and he is happy then why was he crying?" The fairies sighed.

The elves, who had guided him here, approached him. The older one looked at him in a criticising glare.

"I see that Mister England has already got himself into trouble." England glared at him. The young elf coughed to grab his attention. England looked at him with a slightly softer gaze.

"Sir? You don't seem to understand your brother, do you?" He snorted.

"Of course not! Why should I? He doesn't understand me either." The elf shook his head like in regret.

"You may not know Mister Scotland well but he knows you very well. Scotland understands you completely." England rolled his eyes. "It's true." England still looked unconvinced so the elf tried a different approached.

"You know, Mister England…. Nightmares aren't always bad dreams about hard or bitter times; sometimes a nightmare is dreaming about very happy and pleasant memories then waking up, back to reality. He may have had a good dream but it is still a nightmare to Mister Scotland; having to wake up afterwards." England listened carefully before looking at Scotland again. He had never thought about what his brother would consider a nightmare.

"I think I understand…" Scotland had stopped crying completely. His smile was gone too though and he looked relaxed. They had told him that he wasn't dreaming.

The fairies were treating his wounds now. They could only treat a couple of his injuries with Scotland was holding his body to him. After a while, his body was becoming stiff and numb and he was freezing. He finally couldn't bare the uncomfortable position any longer.

"Hey Scotland… Scotland… SCOTLAND!" He didn't respond.

"WAKE UP!" Nothing happened again.

"Hey! Why isn't he waking up?" He demanded.

"He's too tired sir." A fairy answered.

"How long has he been asleep?"

"Two hours…"

"Well he should be fine! WAKE UP SCOTLAND!"

"Mister England! Please don't disturb him! He is probably exhausted!"

"How can he be tired? He slept in the taxi (The driver told him) for 5 hours and here for another 2 hours!" The fairy batted him on the head with her hand.

"Stop being so selfish!... Sorry for hitting you Sir but you need to be quiet. It's only natural that Mister Scotland is tired after healing and using so much magic."

"What?" The fairy petted him gently and brushed his blonde hair from his face.

"Have you noticed how Mister Scotland is a really fast healer but is always really sleepy afterwards. Not tired like a normal injured person but more exhausted." England nodded. He had noticed the fast healing and the excess tiredness. He never thought they were connected though. Exhaustion could easily be a symptom of his bad drinking habits.

"Well now he is healing super fast because of where we are but it's also making him super exhausted too!"

"So he won't wake up?"

"He might but only for a few minutes…" The fairy paused before continuing. "If you want him to wake up, you are going to have to move him away from here."

"Brilliant…"

(A/N -

The reason why I made the magical order Scotland, Wales, England, Ireland and North Ireland.

CAUSE I COULD! Mwuhahahahaha!

Kidding (partly) - there is method to my madness.

Scotland is first as it matches my head canon of him being the closest to Brittannia. He is really strong.

Wales is the second because it makes sense to me. He is really close to dragons. He has one on his flag and everything. Dragons are really powerful so should Wales.

England is third as he looks like Britannia and because I don't want him to be the weakest magic user.

Ireland and North Ireland is tied fourth - mainly because one has a lousy temper and one has low attention span. Both of them only learned the basic magic.

REVIEW and England will hug you!)