Characters:
Arthur 'England' Kirkland
Alistair 'Scotland' Kirkland
Matthew 'Canada' Kirkland
Jett 'Australia' Kirkland
Steve (Jett's koala)
Kumajiro (Matthew's polar bear)
Alfred F. 'America' Jones

Pairings; British family, British Empire, brotherly AmeCan

Summary; Alfred has given Alistair a gift. Arthur is not impressed. Matt is quiet, and Jett is confused.


Arthur's London flat, 1825

Alistair leans on Arthur's desk, grinning broadly. Matthew and Jett sit by the fireplace, brushing their bears' furs.

"What are you after?" Arthur asks plainly.

"What do you mean?!"

"You've got that look on your face like you're up to something."

"Am I not allowed to smile?!" Alistair gasps.

"Not like that, you're not."

Alistair sighs. "Alfred gave me something that I have absolutely nothing I can do with."

Arthur glares at him. "I thought I'd made it clear I didn't want anyone fraternising with Master Jones."

"Aye, you told the colonies that."

Matthew stares awkwardly at his feet.

"I assumed you realised that the rule extended to yourself," Arthur snaps.

"No, no I did not," Alistair says, and grimaces.

"What?" Arthur demands, and both Matthew and Jett freeze.

"You're really not going to like what he gave me, then."

"What is it?"

Alistair breathes deeply, folding his hands in front of him. "He gave me land."

"He did what?"

"He gave me land," Alistair repeats, "Poyais, in Central America."

Matthew frowns. Jett is just confused.

"Why would he do that?" Arthur says tightly.

"I've heard about that," Jett chimes, "There's that song about it!"

"What are you on about?"

"We'll a' gang to Poyais thegither!" Jett says. We'll all go to Poyais together!

"You know I don't like you talking like a commoner," Arthur snaps at him, and Jett deflates.

"Aye, that's the place," Alistair nods, "Poyais. Interest rates here are shite, Artie. Foreign investment is the only sensible investment right now."

"You didn't invest in anything. And don't call me that in front of the colonies."

"We have names, you know," Jett mutters.

"That might be why Alfred gave me it," Alistair sighs, tugging on his beard, "So I have somewhere to go if your market crashes. Or to spite you. And I'm always up for spiting you."

"Give me the land," Arthur says plainly.

Alistair groans. "I can't just do that, though."

"Why not? Alfred gave it to you."

"Aye, but I'd be letting him down if I just gave it to you. It's a big gift, y'ken."

Arthur sighs, growling. "What do you want in exchange for it?"

"That's more like it." Alistair grins.

Jett and Matthew finish comb through their bears' furs as Alistair and Arthur negotiate, barely paying attention. Matthew sits with a book open in his lap, and Jett takes a nap on his shoulder.

Arthur leaves, slamming the door behind him as he storms through the flat. Jett jolts awake, and Steve groans at the sudden noise.

Alistair gets up, heading over to his nephews, buttoning his pocket. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a bunch of papers. "Get these handed out, aye?"

"Aye!" Jett grins, flicking through the papers. He hands Matthew his letter, takes his own out the pile, and hides the rest under his jumper.

"Poyais?" Matthew asks cheekily.

"Aye, Poyais," Alistair agrees as Jett passes another pile of letters across.

"Poyais doesn't exist, uncle Alistair."

Alistair winks to Matthew, hiding his niblings' letters to their brother in his jacket. Jett is still just confused.


It's t-RU!
In the early 1800's, a Scottish guy known as Gregor MacGregor claimed to own land in Central America called 'Poyais', pointing out east Honduras/north-east Nicaragua as its location. Hundreds of wealth Englishfolk and Frenchfolk invested their savings in Poyaisian government bonds and land certificates, while about 250 emigrated to MacGregor's invented country to find an uninhabitable jungle.

Random headcannons of the day;
Alistair's middle name is Gregor
Alistair would visit Alfred and relay letters between the colonies. Alfred would often stay up late at night, writing personal letters to his siblings. If Alistair couldn't visit, he'd pass the letters on to France to take them. Prussia, Spain and once even Russia would also sometimes need to help get the letters delivered, but they always managed. Arthur never knew.

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-Laurel Silver