hellzabeth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hellzabeth) wrote2010-02-21 12:09 am
hellzabeth) wrote2010-02-21 12:09 am
Entry tags:
Family Ties [Part 2]
Title: Family Ties
Author: Me, silly.
Characters (in this chapter): France, Scotland, America, England, Wales, the World Conference.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Swearing, politics. The usual.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone.
Generally, world meetings were not on France's top 10 things he would like to be doing with his Thursday afternoon. Especially not when the sun outside was so wonderfully bright, there was a gentle breeze that was just the right temperature drifting through the open window, and he could see such a pretty girl sitting in the cafe just outside. Sighing wistfully as the rest of the Nations trickled in, his attention was only garnered when he heard America's loud exclamation of-
"Scotty?!"
Raising an eyebrow, France turned in his chair and then nearly fell out of it. Usually, the seat next to him would be occupied (however unwillingly) by England.
Unless the big-browed Nation had suddenly shot up 3 inches and grown ginger hair, this was unmistakably not him.
"Mon dieu, Scotland?!" He gasped out. The Scot grinned toothily at him.
"Hey there, Francis." he laughed back as France tried to regain his composure.
"Impossible. Why are you- Is Angleterre ill?" He asked, eyebrows knitting together. Scotland seemed ready to reply, when he was pounced upon by America.
"Uncle Scotty!" cried the youth, grinning from ear to ear and practically pushing the poor Nation's chair over. Regardless, Scotland barked out a laugh.
"Aye lad, it's me." he chuckled, patting America on the back. "Yeh've grown a lot! Get yer height from me, ye do!" He stood from his chair, and indeed they were the same height, if it weren't for Nantucket insisting on standing up. America laughed, sunshine and happiness.
"I haven't seen you in ages! You should come to meetings more often, if Iggy lets you!"
"I plan to, laddy, I plan to." He returned with a smirk. France snaked an arm round his shoulders and leaned round.
"Mon chéri, to what do we owe this pleasure?" He grinned even as Scotland smacked wandering hands away from his buttocks. Again, before other could answer, he was interrupted once more. This time, it was the opening of the doors of the room, where everyone else had entered.
England strode in, shoulders straight and drawn up to his full height, expression serious, with his huge eyebrows almost meeting in the middle. With him he carried a small pole, and from it hung what appeared to be a flag. Everyone watched in perplexed silence as Wales, who was just as unexpected as Scotland, followed in as well, his height for once not seeming to dwarf England, but make the whole procession that much more strange and slightly... intimidating. America was halfway to asking a question when the island nation stopped and banged the flagpole on the floor. The breeze caught it, and several gasps were heard as the flag unfurled.
That was most definitely not the Union Jack.
"Representing the United Kingdom of England and Wales." Arthur barked, the edge of the flag snapping slightly as the wind picked up. "I'd like to introduce to you all our new standard."
The design echoed the old, but all traces of the Scottish blue had been removed. Instead, in the middle of the great red cross stood a dragon of the same colour, rearing back with it's teeth bared.
The only sound was the birds outside. The world held it's collective breath. The blonde nation strode forward, taking the flag with him. Wales stayed by the door, watching.
"Get out of my seat, Scotland." England snarled, three feet and within striking distance of his brother. France vacated the general area around the British nations, as Scotland smiled mockingly.
"I think you'll find, it's my seat now."
CRACK! The high back of the seat took a harsh blow, as Scotland quickly ducked under the flagpole England had aimed at his head. A few Nations gasped.
"Get out. Of my seat. James." England ground out, slow and careful. America tried to put himself between the two. France couldn't decide on whether that was brave or stupid.
"Woah now, hold on guys, what's going on?" He asked, hands up in placation. England's acid green eyes flickered over to his former colony for a moment.
"I've left the union." piped up Scotland. He didn't seem at all surprised by England's behavior. "So has Northern Ireland. We've stopped putting up with his bullshit." Green eyes slightly darker than England's own smirked over at the younger blonde Nation. "Ye can understand that, can't ye America?"
"Shut up!" England shrieked, bringing the flagpole down on his brother, who rolled out of the way to avoid it. A dent in the floor an inch deep told of how much that one stung.
"Missed me, short arse!" laughed the redhead. "Not so tough now when ye have no help aye?" The two started circling, even as Germany tried to call for order and Russia covered his mouth with one hand, watching the proceedings with a frightening grin. "Poor little Artie, little midget Artie, who lost all his friends because he was a dick that thought he could use soldiers that weren't his t' fight his battles in the fuckin' desert!"
Let nobody say that Scotland wasn't an expert at taunting his brother.
America shifted uncomfortably at the last part, but it was England that growled low and almost lept for his brother. Almost, because that was when Wales, easily forgotten in the background of this chaos, grabbed England's shoulder. England gave him an irritated look, which was met with a flat stare. The shorter of the two lowered his make shift weapon, and Wales turned to his other brother.
"He still has me." he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
There was silence.
"So, in summary, Scotland and Northern Ireland left England and Wales, so now the two of you are going to start up your war thing again?" America asked, scratching his head and trying to follow all this.
"Aye, apart from the war bit." Scotland affirmed. "I left because my people and I don't want any more fuckin' wars if we can avoid it."
America coughed.
France, with no small amount of wonder at the irony, decided to play peace keeper. "How about both of you get a chair of your own. Er, Wales, do you want one?"
"I'm okay without. I'm only really here for today, I'll go back to my usual looking after things at home after this week." He shrugged.
Lithuania helpfully found a chair somewhere and dragged it over to the other side of the table. England sat in it, with Wales looming like a guard behind him, and took out his briefcase like this happened every day.
"Well, isn't this fun." grumbled America.
Notes:
- Reason why France and Scotland are so familiar with each other: there's this wonderful thing called the Auld alliance. It's the onlymarriage alliance older than England and Portugal's.
- I'm so lovely, I actually made the United Kingdom of England and Wales flag for you guys~
Part Three!
Author: Me, silly.
Characters (in this chapter): France, Scotland, America, England, Wales, the World Conference.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Swearing, politics. The usual.
Summary: Uh, I need to be banned from the kink meme or monsters like this happen? Essentially, Scotland leaves the UK, which gives Northern Ireland an excuse to up and out as well, which leaves England and Wales all alone.
Generally, world meetings were not on France's top 10 things he would like to be doing with his Thursday afternoon. Especially not when the sun outside was so wonderfully bright, there was a gentle breeze that was just the right temperature drifting through the open window, and he could see such a pretty girl sitting in the cafe just outside. Sighing wistfully as the rest of the Nations trickled in, his attention was only garnered when he heard America's loud exclamation of-
"Scotty?!"
Raising an eyebrow, France turned in his chair and then nearly fell out of it. Usually, the seat next to him would be occupied (however unwillingly) by England.
Unless the big-browed Nation had suddenly shot up 3 inches and grown ginger hair, this was unmistakably not him.
"Mon dieu, Scotland?!" He gasped out. The Scot grinned toothily at him.
"Hey there, Francis." he laughed back as France tried to regain his composure.
"Impossible. Why are you- Is Angleterre ill?" He asked, eyebrows knitting together. Scotland seemed ready to reply, when he was pounced upon by America.
"Uncle Scotty!" cried the youth, grinning from ear to ear and practically pushing the poor Nation's chair over. Regardless, Scotland barked out a laugh.
"Aye lad, it's me." he chuckled, patting America on the back. "Yeh've grown a lot! Get yer height from me, ye do!" He stood from his chair, and indeed they were the same height, if it weren't for Nantucket insisting on standing up. America laughed, sunshine and happiness.
"I haven't seen you in ages! You should come to meetings more often, if Iggy lets you!"
"I plan to, laddy, I plan to." He returned with a smirk. France snaked an arm round his shoulders and leaned round.
"Mon chéri, to what do we owe this pleasure?" He grinned even as Scotland smacked wandering hands away from his buttocks. Again, before other could answer, he was interrupted once more. This time, it was the opening of the doors of the room, where everyone else had entered.
England strode in, shoulders straight and drawn up to his full height, expression serious, with his huge eyebrows almost meeting in the middle. With him he carried a small pole, and from it hung what appeared to be a flag. Everyone watched in perplexed silence as Wales, who was just as unexpected as Scotland, followed in as well, his height for once not seeming to dwarf England, but make the whole procession that much more strange and slightly... intimidating. America was halfway to asking a question when the island nation stopped and banged the flagpole on the floor. The breeze caught it, and several gasps were heard as the flag unfurled.
That was most definitely not the Union Jack.
"Representing the United Kingdom of England and Wales." Arthur barked, the edge of the flag snapping slightly as the wind picked up. "I'd like to introduce to you all our new standard."
The design echoed the old, but all traces of the Scottish blue had been removed. Instead, in the middle of the great red cross stood a dragon of the same colour, rearing back with it's teeth bared.
The only sound was the birds outside. The world held it's collective breath. The blonde nation strode forward, taking the flag with him. Wales stayed by the door, watching.
"Get out of my seat, Scotland." England snarled, three feet and within striking distance of his brother. France vacated the general area around the British nations, as Scotland smiled mockingly.
"I think you'll find, it's my seat now."
CRACK! The high back of the seat took a harsh blow, as Scotland quickly ducked under the flagpole England had aimed at his head. A few Nations gasped.
"Get out. Of my seat. James." England ground out, slow and careful. America tried to put himself between the two. France couldn't decide on whether that was brave or stupid.
"Woah now, hold on guys, what's going on?" He asked, hands up in placation. England's acid green eyes flickered over to his former colony for a moment.
"I've left the union." piped up Scotland. He didn't seem at all surprised by England's behavior. "So has Northern Ireland. We've stopped putting up with his bullshit." Green eyes slightly darker than England's own smirked over at the younger blonde Nation. "Ye can understand that, can't ye America?"
"Shut up!" England shrieked, bringing the flagpole down on his brother, who rolled out of the way to avoid it. A dent in the floor an inch deep told of how much that one stung.
"Missed me, short arse!" laughed the redhead. "Not so tough now when ye have no help aye?" The two started circling, even as Germany tried to call for order and Russia covered his mouth with one hand, watching the proceedings with a frightening grin. "Poor little Artie, little midget Artie, who lost all his friends because he was a dick that thought he could use soldiers that weren't his t' fight his battles in the fuckin' desert!"
Let nobody say that Scotland wasn't an expert at taunting his brother.
America shifted uncomfortably at the last part, but it was England that growled low and almost lept for his brother. Almost, because that was when Wales, easily forgotten in the background of this chaos, grabbed England's shoulder. England gave him an irritated look, which was met with a flat stare. The shorter of the two lowered his make shift weapon, and Wales turned to his other brother.
"He still has me." he said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
There was silence.
"So, in summary, Scotland and Northern Ireland left England and Wales, so now the two of you are going to start up your war thing again?" America asked, scratching his head and trying to follow all this.
"Aye, apart from the war bit." Scotland affirmed. "I left because my people and I don't want any more fuckin' wars if we can avoid it."
America coughed.
France, with no small amount of wonder at the irony, decided to play peace keeper. "How about both of you get a chair of your own. Er, Wales, do you want one?"
"I'm okay without. I'm only really here for today, I'll go back to my usual looking after things at home after this week." He shrugged.
Lithuania helpfully found a chair somewhere and dragged it over to the other side of the table. England sat in it, with Wales looming like a guard behind him, and took out his briefcase like this happened every day.
"Well, isn't this fun." grumbled America.
Notes:
- Reason why France and Scotland are so familiar with each other: there's this wonderful thing called the Auld alliance. It's the only
- I'm so lovely, I actually made the United Kingdom of England and Wales flag for you guys~
Part Three!