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Forty Three: What was he like?
England's youngest sibling looked up from her cooking of vegetable stew to raise her eyebrows at the handsome man leaning against the doorway of her kitchen. She turned off the heat, threw off her apron and smiled.
The man in the doorway shuffled nervously, feeling completely stupid and wishing he had not bothered to come round to Northern Ireland's house and should have waiting to ask her at this evening's party.
"What was that?" She asked, smile getting steadily bigger and bigger.
"I said," The man shifted his gaze to the floor and mumbled, "I was wondering if you could tell me what England was like when he was younger. Like in his pirate days..."
Northern Ireland grinned.
"Well, you in luck because there's only a handful of people who could tell you and I'm one of them."
She quickly walked past him and he followed her into her downstairs bedroom. She went into the wardrobe and found a small, worn-out box. She set it on the bed and indicated for the man to sit down as well.
"This," she said, opening the lid, "is the only thing I have which shows real proof that England was a pirate. I mean you would never have guessed by how he acts now; all stuffy and formal. Sometimes, if he's being incredibly annoying, I bring up the subject of his piracy and that shuts him right up." She giggled and reaching into the tiny box, she withdrew a very old, dusty picture. She blew on it and when the dust fell away, the man gasped.
The picture was of England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales on a very large boat. All were dressed in magnificent clothing and England was holding a large bottle of something, (the man presumed ale), in one hand and another slinged around Northern Ireland's waist. Their brothers were shoulder to shoulder and all were grinning madly. The man smiled.
"You're all pissed."
Northern Ireland laughed.
"Nope. Not me. Remember, I wasn't a country back then. I was just a little province- Ulster. Look who young and innocent I was back then." She smiled fondly at the picture. The man stifled his laughter. Yeah, innocent is exactly a word someone associates Northern Ireland with anymore.
He returned his focus to the picture and couldn't stop himself gazing at England the most.
"England certainly looks…different." The man coughed slightly and Northern Ireland smirked.
"By different you mean hot?"
The man's eyes widened and he began sputtering excuses but the young girl didn't want to hear any of it.
"Ah, ah, ah! Stop trying to tell me you don't think he's good-looking because he is. He wasn't all perfect though. Actually he was a bit of a twat really. Killing everyone, left, right and centre, stealing everything and anything he could find and letting his men rape and plunder entire villages. I never said anything because I didn't want any of that to happen to me. He was quite fond of me at the time; I didn't want that to change. But I knew it wasn't right."
Northern Ireland shrugged before eyeing up the man opposite her gleefully.
"Just why did you want to know all of this anyway? It's not like you two are the best of friends or anything."
He shrugged. "No reason. Just doing a little background information hunting on all the European countries for my boss."
Northern Ireland stuck the lid back on the box and put it back into her wardrobe before returning to sit opposite her visitor, titling her head in confusion.
"Why would your boss want-"
"Shut up Emily, would you? I couldn't think of a decent excuse." He glared at her and she gasped excitingly and clapped her hands.
"Yay! I knew it! You like England, you like England! I always knew there was something there."
"Bite me." He muttered, giving Northern Ireland a small shove, eyes narrowing slightly.
"You have to tell him! Tonight!" Northern Ireland cried. The man glanced at her uneasily.
"I don't know…"
Northern Ireland rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"Oh, come on! You have to. Go home and get ready. Be back here in an hour. That gives us forty-five minutes until the party starts to practice your confession."
She grabbed him and hauled him to her front door, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"My confession?" He blurted out in bewilderment.
"Yes." She said, pushing him out the door, "Now go!"
And slammed the door in his face.
Across the Irish Sea, a blonde-haired man checked himself out in a large mirror in his bedroom and then threw on a light blue jacket over his outfit. He smiled at his appearance and tugged at the lapels of his jacket.
Suddenly his whole body stiffened and he let out a low growl, glaring in the direction of the only country he ruled that he didn't border with.
The thing about being the leader of a group of nations was you could feel what the countries you were ruling were feeling. Now, the feeling passing through the body of the United Kingdom was complete and utter mischief, and England knew actually who was feeling it.
Striding quickly over to his phone, he quickly dialled a number he has called so many times before. A sweet, caring voice answered on the third beat.
"NORHTERN IRELAND! WHAT DID YOU DO THIS TIME?!"
Hehehe! This could be left as a cliff-hanger or I could to another chapter for it where it shows the party and what happens with England and America? Tell me what you think. Cheers, LucyMoon1992 x