Welcome to my first Hetalia story, String of Time! It has been a long time since I post anything here, but I think I'm ready to share my Outlander AU story with everyone. If you've seen my content on Tumblr, I've been working on it for a time (and a few years off-screen lol). Ever since I've watched the show, my brain couldn't stop thinking about the possibility of a Hetalia version of it. The history, the drama, the adventure, everything! The romance is meh because I'm not a big fan of it even though it's the series' main focus. Since that day, I wanted to write an adaptation of the story through the lens of Hetalia. And what better way to include our favourite UK+Ireland brothers!

This story will loosely follow the plotline of season one of Outlander (so historical inaccuracies are expected) and the main theme is family. So for anyone who expected a steamy story as seen in the show, you may need to look somewhere else. After all, this is the story of the adventure of our smol bean Northern Ireland. Although there will be violence and drama, it will not reach the M rating. Don't worry, I'll put warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

Anyway, I'm really happy to show you guys String of Time. As said in my other stories, keep in mind English isn't my first language, so there may be typos and such. I spellchecked it twice, but who knows, some of them may have managed to sneak in. With that said, I hope you enjoy this story.

Warning: swearing.

String of Time

by WinterWrites23

Prologue : Boy, That Sure Was Weird

September 1st, Edinburgh, 1997

"That's your stop, lad, off you go, now." Scotland slowed his grey Honda Civic to a stop, putting his emergency lights on. He glanced at his passenger who hadn't moved with a frown. "I don't have all day."

Northern Ireland ignored him, looking at the window with his arms crossed and brows furrowed. He glared at the people bustling on the street, some heading to work as others enjoyed the rare sunny September day they were having.

"Come on, you can't stay over my house forever, y'know?" Scotland rolled his eyes. "As much as I like having your lazy arse here, I have a life too."

The boy stayed silent, just as he stayed silent during the whole twenty minutes long trip. He picked at the strap of his backpack by his feet, lips tight shut.

"Oh, for the love of- he doesn't even live there. Just go back home and be done with it."

"Don't wanna," the boy muttered.

The older brother let out an exasperated sigh, switching off the emergency lights before pulling over to a parking lot he saw earlier. He cut off the engine and shifted to face the boy with an annoyed expression.

"North, you can't keep coming up here whenever you throw a tantrum."

"I'm not throwing a tantrum!" The boy immediately snapped, eyes flashing in anger. "He started it, complaining and blaming me as always for everything. He doesn't listen to a thing I say and won't accept his fucking mistakes and-"

"Why was he over your house, anyway?" Scotland asked but immediately waved his hand when he saw North taking a deep breath. He knew that if he let him speak, he would never hear the end of it. He grimaced. "You know what? I'm not gonna hear it. This is between you and him. For my sake, spare me the bloody soap opera."

"But-"

"No, you're going home like a good lad and stay there without blowing something up with your mad experiences, you hear me?" He pointed a finger at North with narrowed eyes. "You owe me a new toaster by the way."

"Wasn't my fault your toaster was too shite to handle the centrifugal force!"

"There's a hole in my roof."

"Well… wasn't my fault your roof is-"

The boy yelped when Scotland cuffed him on the side of the head. North leaned as far he could while being in a car, rubbing furiously at his head.

"Why can't I stay over longer?" He all but whined, not even a bit embarrassed about it as he slumped back to his seat. He didn't want to go back home. Not right now, and he wanted to stay as far as possible from him. "Just another week? Just until England and Wales get back! I can stay out of whatever you call life. I can even do the dishes for you! Buy you a new toaster or-or brush your hiking boots or-"

The expression on the man's face remained impassive.

Time to change tactics.

Putting a hand over his heart and widening his eyes as much as he could, North gasped meekly, pouting his bottom lip. "Are you really going to abandon your little brother out there all alone, in that cold selfish island? Your own blood and kin?"

"Aye," Scotland said, not a hint of remorse in his voice. He scoffed when the boy blinked innocently at him. "That trick doesn't work on me anymore, lad."

Dropping the façade, the boy puffed his cheeks as he unbuckled his seat belt. He grabbed his backpack. "You're an arse."

A shit-eating grin pulled on the Scottish nation's face as he started up the car once again. "Always glad to help!"

North squawked when Scotland ruffled his hair and quickly got out of the car before he gave him a noogie. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and slammed the door behind him. He grumbled as he tried to put his hair back to normal.

"Oi!"

North glared over his shoulder. "What?"

Leaning over his seat, Scotland handed out a few bills. "In case you got hungry on your way back."

Sighing, North approached the car, though he was internally grateful because he didn't have much change left and grabbed the money.

"And look," his brother said, his grin dimming to a small one-sided smirk because Scotland didn't know what smiling was. "The storm will pass, Norn. You two will soon find common ground. It won't last forever, y'know."

"Feels like it," the boy muttered bitterly, letting the ridicule nickname pass this time. "He's always yelling the second he sees me, giving out on every little thing I do. 'No North, you're wrong. No North, you're not doing it right! Listen to me, North, I'm always right.' It goes on and on. I bet he curses my name in his fucking sleep."

"No, he doesn't. Just... just give it time, aye? You'll see the light at the end of the tunnel or whatever inspirational metaphor there is," Scotland said awkwardly, never one to give heart-to-heart conversation. And it showed. That was Wales' forte, not his. Scotland cleared his throat. "He'll come around, just let the firecracker cool down for a few days and he'll be his annoying old man self again. He has a lot on his plate lately."

"As if my plate wasn't already full too! You always do this; you always take his side!" North complained. "Is it because he's the eldest or some shitty excuse like that? You never back me up when-"

"I will when ye stop being an immature child just like yer doing right now." Scotland snapped, patience thinning. "If you want to be taken seriously, you need to act yer age."

"Act your age, stop being a child. Can't you be more contradicting than that? What do you care how old I am? The ocean is old as fuck and it will still drown your arse with vigour."

"Ach, for fuck's –" The man pinched the bridge of his nose to keep from throttle the boy. He took a deep breath and looked at his little brother sternly. "Look, from what I gathered you two had a big fight and you told me your version. Or part of it— shut up, I know you didn't tell me everything. Until I know his version, I'm staying back. He and England are too stubborn to be reasoned with at the moment so don't even bother getting in their way. Just go home and stay there, is that clear?"

The boy clenched his jaw, stubbornly staying silent.

"Is that clear?" Scotland asked again, eyes narrowing in warning.

North looked away with a huff. He muttered tersely, "Yeah, yeah."

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the Scotsman looked at the rear-view mirror for an exit. "If ye really want to be coddled, talk to Wales instead of me. God knows how much of a mother hen he can be. Especially when you're on your own."

North scowled, glaring at his brother. "I'm not a baby, I can travel on my own just fine."

"Then stop being one, twiggy."

"Prick," North called out with a huff. He flushed when he realized people were watching their back and forth.

Completely oblivious or not caring at all about the attention, Scotland lowered his window. He glanced at North with a smirk and said loudly, "Remember, Seán, don't take sweets from creepy old men!"

"Shut up." Turning beet red, North swirled around with hunched shoulders and started walking in a brisk pace.

"And watch both sides when ye cross the street too!"

Without turning, the boy flipped him off and hurried to the train station, pointedly avoiding the looks from bystanders and the loud laugh of Scotland as he drove off.

God his brothers were the worst.

North pulled his Walkman out of his backpack, grumbling under his breath as he tried to untangle the mess that was his headphones. He gave up a moment later and put them on, despite the knots dangling awkwardly against his face.

Because Scotland had a meeting at 11 with his boss, which knowing him would purposely be late by 15 minutes just for the hell of it, he had to drop him off much earlier than his supposed departure.

Which meant, much to his annoyance, North had two hours to kill before 13h35.

North pressed play on his music player and adjusted his headphones, blocking the world around him as he started walking down the east hall of the Waverley shopping center. He could spend the twenty quid Scotland gave him, maybe buy a chicken sandwich for lunch or a slice of pizza.

With that in mind, the boy wandered around the shopping center, stopping every now and then to pretend to be interested in whatever was on display. He found a small grocery store and bought a chicken sandwich along with a bag of BBQ crisps.

As he waited in line, he spotted a strange-looking sign from the store across the hall. It was an advertisement for repairing computers in a really-shady-but-somehow-no-one-says-anything kind of way, with flickering lights and dubious deals. But what caught his attention was the slogan written on fluorescent pink cardboard. Scribbled in black marker, it said: 'It's time to tend your wounds!'

What a strange slogan for an electronics store.

"That would be £17.43."

"Uh?" North blinked at the cashier in confusion before realizing it was his turn. Pulling his headphones off, he fumbled to get the money out but paused when he saw the price. Dumbfounded, he asked, "Excuse me, miss, but why is it that expensive? The sandwich only costs £2.65 and the crisps £0.85."

The cashier frowned, a young woman in her early twenties named Marie T., and looked at the screen displayer. She made a frustrated noise and punched a series of keys with a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that, our machines have been malfunctioning all morning. Someone's coming over soon to have a look at it… ah, it's working now. That would be £3,50. Sorry about that."

Nodding, North handed the money and glanced at the window while he waited for the change. He did a double-take when he noticed the advertisement sign said, 'Telly half the price!', instead of what he saw earlier. He mumbled his thanks to the cashier once he got the receipt and left the store. He sent one last look to the computer repair store before leaving.

An hour passed and the Northern Irish boy all but forgot about the strange slogan as he wandered in the shopping center.

"Jack, get back, come on before we crack…" North sang under his breath, hands in pockets and bobbing his head to the rhythm of the music. He paused when he saw a small bookstore at the end of the hall and decided to go have a look.

He wasn't much of a bookworm as Wales, but he did like spending time flipping through books now and then. Maybe there was a science section where he could buy a new issue of Science: Beyond the Limit.

He walked over to the bookstore and smiled a little as he read the cursive banner that said 'Alba's Wee Library' followed in much smaller letters 'Grand Opening'. He entered the little store and could already tell it was the antique rustic style with the warm colour and dark brown bookshelves. On the right side, beside the cashier stand, was a section with decorations such as tea sets and globes. Maybe he could find a snow globe to add to his collection.

Overall, it looked like 'a bubble of pure warmth from heaven itself' as Wales would call it whenever he visited a bookstore.

"Welcome to Alba's Wee Library. Are you searching for a specific book?" The owner looked up from the book he was repairing, a gentle-looking man in his sixties with a thin moustache and greyish short hair.

"Hi, um not really, thanks. I'm just passing by until my train arrives." North smiled, pausing his music as he looked over the rows of bookcases.

"Feel free to look, then, it's always nice to see weans interested in books these days instead of roaming the streets." The owner laughed and nodded his head to the side. "I have comic books at the back over there if you're interested."

Thanking the man, North went to the back. He wasn't a big fan of comics, but it was worth a shot. He preferred watching the shows anyway. After flipping through an issue of the Amazing Spider-Man, he started looking for the science section. A smile quirked upon his lips when he found it. He was pleased to see a whole alley dedicated to it.

He skipped the space and astronomy section, focusing on anything related to chemistry and experiments. As he was reading the label of a magazine about chemical reactions on plants, he didn't notice the other browser leaning over a counter until he bumped into them, causing the books they were holding to tumble across the floor.

"Oh, dear!"

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," North blurted out in embarrassment as he picked up the books. He handed them over, stuttering another apology as he looked up. It was an old lady with yellow-tinted cat eyeglasses that made her eyes comically big, wearing a dark green felt overcoat and a brown shapka. In other words, a typical 'I live with fifteen cats and I'm proud of it' old lady.

She laughed a bell-like sound, voice laced with mirth as she waved a dark blue gloved hand. "No harm done, little one, thank ye for picking them up. Such a nice young gentleman."

"You're welcome and sorry again, ma'am, I wasn't looking," the boy said with a sheepish smile, politely ignoring the fact that none of her clothes matched. France would have burst into tears if he ever saw her.

The smile on the old woman's face suddenly faltered as she looked at him for a moment and sadness flashed in her magnified pale green eyes. "Ooh, you poor bairn, God will send you down a stony path."

"Uh… what?"

He jostled when she grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle pat as if in comfort. A wan smile appeared on her wrinkled face as she said, "May He give you strong shoes, then."

With that, the old lady turned around and disappeared as she rounded the corner on the next aisle, leaving the boy blinking in confusion. What was that about?

North shook the weird feeling off and grabbed the first magazine he saw with the word chemistry on it. He hurried towards the front desk, not wanting to stay one minute longer.

"Found what you were looking for, young man?" The owner asked, scanning the magazine.

"Um y-yeah, that is all." The boy bobbed his head, quickly checking over his shoulder for any sign of the old lady.

"That would be £3,25, do you want a bag with that?"

"No, it's okay." North handed the money, fingers fidgeting with the strap of his backpack.

"Here you go, enjoy your reading." The owner handed the magazine back with a friendly grin, but somehow that made North even more uneasy. He stashed his purchase in his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. The man gave him the receipt. "Have a safe travel!"

Plastering a smile, North snatched the paper, blurted out goodbye and quickly left the bookstore without looking he was sprinting off from there. He looked over his shoulder one last time, not seeing any sign of the old lady. He shook himself. How ominous that sounded, Jaysus.

"I think that's enough shopping for today," he said to himself as he walked down the hall, heading for the train station.

As he was approaching, he spotted two men in maintenance uniform at the central clock of the train station. The one at the base of the structure was gesturing wildly at the other one who was at the top of a ladder, toolbox in hands.

"The other red wire, ye wallaper," the first man said, pointing at the open panel above, "Now the hands are going mental again."

Following at what the man was pointing, North spotted soon enough the hands of the clock spinning out of control. The repairman on the ladder said something back at the other as he tweaked something and looked back at the clock.

The spinning slowly came to an end, the hands stopping at 5:43 before a sputtering hiss came from inside the machinery. A small trail of smoke came out a second later.

"For fuck's sake, Ian, look what ye did!"

"I did what you asked! I cut the red wire!"

"Clearly you didn't! Get down here, I'll check it myself."

North rolled his eyes at his ongoing misfortune and went to the information booth to ask both the time and his ticket's platform. Once it was done, the boy passed by the two bickering men at the clock and finally sat down in the seating area. He deserved it after all the weird things that happened since he got here. Opening his backpack, he pulled out his chicken sandwich and his new magazine.

North was pleased to know he chose a good issue, Chemistry: Nature vs Synthetic. It would be fun to read during the ride. From a quick glance at it, it talked about the possibility of recreating skin tissue by modifying the molecular structure of cells. With any hope, in the future, they could put this technology in use for the medical field. He wondered what kind of experiments the researchers came up with.

Some would say Northern Ireland was the 'scientific' one of the family in which logic and science always came first. After all, if you can prove your theory with a test, then there was truth within. Sure, he enjoyed fantasy stories (not as much as Wales with The Lord of the Rings. That man could recite the whole thing by heart and would kill if you ever insult the book in front of him) but not as much as he loved reading science-fiction or the Sherlock Holmes series. Not to mention the experimenting side of science where you perform tons of stuff to learn how the world around you worked.

Come to think of it, North should start saving money so he could buy the right equipment to make a do-it-yourself storm glass. England refused to buy him one by lecturing him about buying 'rubbish knick-knacks' and instead buy something more useful like a broom or a shoe rack. What was cool about a broom when you can have instead an instrument that can predict the weather by the way the liquid inside crystallizes in specific patterns? And this magazine may be his solution to his financial problem. Maybe he could find the ingredients in the local store!

"The train heading to Glasgow Station will depart in 15 minutes, please head to platform 17 with your ticket ready to aboard the train. The train heading to..."

North paused mid-nibble of his chicken sandwich, lifting his headphones to listen to the scratchy barely recognizable voice in the intercom. He looked at the central clock, realizing the two repairmen already finished their work as the time showed 1h20.

With a dejected sigh, he put the magazine inside his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. He shoved the last bit of his sandwich, balled up the wrapping and threw it into the bin, along with his empty bag of crisps. He pulled out his ticket and headed for platform 17 at a speed of a man walking for his death sentence.

Less than 15 minutes left before he headed back to hell.

"Stupid Dylan and Arthur for being who knows where for a stupid meeting," North grumbled under his breath. He could crash at their flat if he wanted to. He did have their keys after all, but knowing them, they'll throw a fit spewing nonsense about manners and respect of one's house.

Before he headed for the gate, North stopped by a drugstore to buy a Curly Wurly chocolate bar and a bag of Skittles. Might as well have a little of the 'taste the rainbow' for the ride.

Maybe it would clear out the imaginative miserable clouds floating above his head.

He waited in line with his ticket in hand and headphones on his ears, munching on his chocolate-covered caramel candy. Once it was his turn, he handed his boarding ticket to a stern-looking middle-aged woman with short hair and too much makeup for her own good. He was about to get in but was stopped by a bright red nailed hand clamping on his shoulder.

Can't he have a bloody break?

"Where are your parents, boy?" The woman asked in a haughty tone that immediately grated North's nerves.

"I'm travelling alone," he said calmly, though deep down he just wanted to scream to the skies. Not this again.

The woman narrowed her eyes, the makeup around her eyes wrinkling like crumbled paper. "Do you have your parent or guardian pass?"

"A what?"

"We have a new policy that requires all children below 16 to have a parental pass or guardians to board the train. Do you have a parental pass or your guardian's?"

"No, I don't." North couldn't help to snap, not liking her patronizing tone. Who does she think she was? He was older than her for Christ's sake. "I always travel alone when I visit my brother, I was never asked that before."

"That is no excuse, young man, the new policy still applies. I need a parent pass if you want to board the-"

"No, I don't have parents, nor do I have guardians or whatever. When my brother bought the ticket, he wasn't asked that crappy question about a parental slip. I even asked the information booth lady earlier when I was trying to find the platform. Again, I wasn't asked." North flushed at the attention he was getting, his mouth going dry. He swallowed and pointed at the sign in front of the gate, trying to keep his voice from cracking. "Do you see any information about that policy? Any indication that I should have the piece of paper beforehand? No. I don't see anything. Therefore, I can travel just fine by myself without your stupid pass."

The makeup almost fell off the woman's face by the glare she sent, her puckered lips forming a blotch of red. Clearly, she wasn't used to be talked like that. Not waiting for a response, North snatched his ticket from her hand and flashed her a stiff smile. "Thank you and have a great day."

He boarded the train, ignoring the way his shaking hand was clutching his ticket as he shuffled through the other passengers. It took him a while to find his seat and by then, his patience was on the brink of collapse.

North had to ask not one but three staff members for directions because the first two didn't believe seat In43 even existed in their freaking train. The third just shrugged and said, 'maybe it's that way'. Luckily enough, the bloke was right because his seat was in fact 'that way' but at the very end of the train, in a cold poor lighten wagon filled with graffiti that made North questioned Scotland's definition of an 'adequate seat'.

After almost face-planting on the floor because a part of the carpet floor was ripped open, the boy reached his seat only to have to fight the compartment above to put his backpack before giving up when the little door got jammed halfway through.

At last, the young nation put his backpack on the seat beside him, not caring if it was someone's place and slumped into his seat. He leaned back and took a deep breath, feeling the beginning of a headache and the lingering frustration from the argument with the prickly old barbie woman.

He hated when people treated him like a helpless child, thinking he wouldn't know how to function like a normal person without the help of an adult. He may look young, but he was by far much independent than normal human kids. He had his own house for heaven's sake.

Sure, his house was under the name of Ireland because it would be weird for humans to see a fourteen years old kid living in there alone, but it was still technically his as much as he hated to accept he didn't legally own it. And yes, he lived ninety percent of the time at England's because his brother was a complete mother hen and didn't trust him to be on his own, but his point still stands. He wasn't the best cook in the world, coming from a family that could literally burn water, but he can whip out a meal or two if he was motivated enough.

Portugal always praised his spicy sausage spaghetti whenever he visited England. And his banana pancakes were sound.

It was the main reason he hated taking the train instead of having one of his brothers drive him home: to face those kinds of shitty situations. And to add salt to the wound, it was a daily occurrence. The moment he stepped out of his house, adults all but fret over him as if he couldn't fill a glass of water without breaking it. How ridiculous was that?! He could do his grocery shopping, thank you very much. He even repaired the fridge once, for Christ's sake.

North looked from the window, watching the other passengers gathering at the line, noticing the old barbie looking woman was a totally different person when talking to adults. She was actually smiling, as nauseating as it was to witness.

Hmpf, typical hypocrite old hag.

The boy put on his headphones, hoping some music will help pass his headache and of course forget his shitty day. He pressed played and closed his eyes only to let out a curse when a high-pitched static blasted into his ears instead of his 80s music remix. He tore his headphones off with a yelp, glad he was alone in the wagon because the colourful words that followed would surely have raised a few eyebrows.

"Want to piss me off too, you stupid thing," North muttered angrily, wincing at the buzzing in his ears as he tapped the cassette inside the device in question. The Walkman responded by sputtering a pop before running smoothly as if it didn't try to blast his ears off to Kingdom Come.

Rolling his eyes, North pressed play again and carefully put one side of his headphone. Once he was sure he wasn't going to bleed from his ears again, though they were still ringing which wasn't helping his headache at all, he put them back on and leaned back on his seat.

He closed his eyes as Rhapsody started to play, finally relaxing for good. After all the crap he went through since Scotland drop him off, he was so done with the world right now. He didn't want to go back home.

How he wished the next 7 hours would last forever.

The voice of Freddie Mercury filled the silence.

Is this real life?

Unfortunately, yes.

Is this just fantasy?

If only.

With that thought, Northern Ireland fell asleep, immersing himself in the music as the buzzing world around him disappeared.

And voilà! The first chapter of String of Time has come to an end. Poor North, he's just done with the world. As some would know, it's quite different from the beginning of the show for obvious reasons but it will fall into the plotline later on. Keep an eye for the next chapter, that's where the real adventure begins!

For those who don't know, I have a Tumblr under the same username. You can find the characters' designs of the brothers and other drawings. There are also my old drawings back when I was in the Ninjago fandom, but again, they're old and quite different than the ones I do today lol. So if you're curious about my Outlander AU, you can check it out. My pet project is to draw a scene of each chapter of String of Time.

Anyway, I hope you liked it and if you want, leave a comment. I would love to know you guys' thoughts.

Have a great day/night :D

Winter