"Scotland!" England called out as he ran, "Wait for me!" He had a hard time running with his quiver, mainly because it was a bit too big for him. He himself was dressed in a green cape and a white nightshirt that he wore more as a dress with how big it was.
"You have to keep up then," the older nation said, "I'm not going to wait for you, you know." Scotland was in his usual kilt, that had a sash and a matching cape. It was all in a blue and green box-like pattern. England asked him about it once; Scotland said it was traditional garb of his people. England said that no one else wore capes. Scotland retorted back that no one in England wore white dresses either, and that ended that discussion.
"No fair. I'm shorter than you."
"Aye, ain't that the truth."
England grumbled but did catch up with Scotland eventually. They walked in the woods for a bit, then the trees started getting thinner until they disappeared altogether, showing the rolling hills full of grass, flowers, and fairies. The sun was blocked by grey clouds, overcasting the land in a dull light. But despite the gloominess, England never thought of the land to be dull. The colors shown through, making it still the beautiful land that it is.
England asked, "Aren't we going to see mum?"
"Aye," Scotland replied irritably.
"Then why are we going this way?"
"Because she's over here today."
England tugged at Scotland's arm, making the older nation stop. "Why is she so close to the people?"
Scotland sighed; whether it was out of exasperation or something else, England couldn't tell. "You can ask her yourself when we get there, ok?"
They reached a settlement that hadn't been used for a very long time. The inhabitants were drawn out of the area by invaders some number of years ago. Some distance away from the normal houses was a wooden temple which was slowly rotting away. Scotland and England went inside, where Britannia in a white dress sat at the center weaving cloth. The colors of it were red, white, and blue. The pattern was one that England had never seen before; it almost looked like a flag.
"Mum!" England said happily.
"About time you came to see me, little one," Britannia said. She put down her weaving and England gave her a hug. The woman smelled of the forest trees and wild flowers; it made England feel safe like nothing else.
"Why are you out here instead of the forest?" England asked.
"I want to see the rest of the land," Britannia said, "It's not all forest you know."
"But you don't usually do that."
The woman smiled kindly. "It is good to see the world sometimes too, Anglo. It is bigger than you can ever imagine."
England looked at Britannia with puppy dog eyes. There was something off about her aura; he could feel it. "You're going away, aren't you?"
England woke up, back on the ship, a few tears in his eyes. It wasn't rocking as much anymore. He groaned and sat up. It had been a while since he had thought about Britannia. The memory of her still hurt.
"Ah, so you've woken up at last," Spain said, smiling in a way England had never seen him smile before. It was a natural one, pure with no hint of mischievousness.
England wiped his eyes quickly. "Where are we?" he asked. His head felt foggy; for whatever reason, he felt as though he was forgetting something.
"In the Caribbean Sea. We're going to stop by one of my ports for supplies. We'll take a few days there, and then we set off to Europe."
England tried to recollect the events of last night. He could have sworn he was on the African coast. Why was he suddenly in the Americas? "My ship was completely destroyed, wasn't it?"
Spain nodded, "Everyone got off safely, and we did manage to salvage a few things. Which reminds me." Spain pulled out a box. "This is yours, si?"
England nodded. It was a box that Wales had given him a long time ago. It was easily handheld, engraved with winding celtic patterns and a spoon with a handle that wasn't completely solid. The handle was made out of a horseshoe, a celtic cross, and a four-leaf clover.
"It's locked, so I hope you have a key."
England shook his head. "I think it's down with the ship." He certainly didn't have a key on him.
"Pity. Maybe you can get someone to unlock it for you when we reach shore."
'Maybe,' England thought. He couldn't remember what was in the little box; it made him feel uneasy. Even if he had the key with him, he wouldn't want to open it. "Why are you helping me out?"
Spain looked out the window. "To be honest, I actually like you. We're very similar, and in that storm, I couldn't help but take pity in your plight. For now, why not a truce, until I can get you back home."
"Does this mean no fights?"
Spain grinned, "A good sword fight every now and then never did anyone harm."