Chapter 6 of A Midsummer Night's Mischief
Sealand slouched in the swivel chair he occupied, glaring at the screen in front of him with animosity. He had been profusely searching for an incantation to counteract the one with which he had summoned his relatives from the distant past (most likely originally living sometime in the 16th century). The Internet, once a mass of infinite possibility, had now shrunk to a less impressive size with only a select amount of sites to work with. Sealand, to start off his investigation, had typed in “Celtic runes” in the search bar, assuming the search engine would point him in the right direction. The first results on the page, much to the micro nation’s chagrin, discussed the Anglo-Saxon runes and the Lord of the Rings, which was not anywhere near the spells he desired to find. After three pages of these sites, Sealand hit what he thought was gold, but only discovered a series of painful passages of translation waiting for him. After an hour of staring into the glowing monitor, trying to get a sense of the paragraph’s main point, he made no measurable progress.
Why does this language have to be so unknown? he asked himself, his forehead resting on the desk. Sealand knew he had a translator in the house, but he felt increasingly uncomfortable exposing someone who hadn’t heard of a telescope or a piano yet near a high-tech device that might be broken if the olden country got too curious.
Figuring that paper wouldn’t be harmful in any way to the Englishman, Sealand printed the home page out and any other pages that could possibly aid him in uncovering the reversal spell. A spurt of confidence restored, Sealand strolled out of the office and made his way down the carpeted staircase. Landing on the tilted floor of the foyer, he gazed into the living room, surprised to discern France fiddling with a reading lamp perched on the off-white side table flanking the checkered sofa. He enthusiastically yanked on the metal cord underneath the lampshade and watched in awe as the bulb within illuminated. He stared at the light source, reaching out to touch its heated surface. A yelp proceeded by the man jumping away from the electrical appliance indicated his finger had been singed by the light.
Sealand nonchalantly ambled to the lamp, ceasing the electrical current with a tug of the cord. “I would’ve assumed you’d believe anything that emits light to be hot, but I guess that’s not the case,” Sealand remarked, a smirk on his features.
France, still cradling his injured hand, scowled, “Interesting device, that is,” he grumbled under his breath, “I would be forever grateful for an object that could glow without flames and oil.”
The micro nation settled onto the sofa beside his future father. “Wait three centuries and that wish will come true,” he stated, crossing his legs in his seat. “Hey, do you know where England is?”
France shook his locks in a solemn no. “Not a clue,” his mind drifted back to his own problems, which included convincing England to place America in his army. He had thought of an ingenious plan moments ago, but its execution was the missing piece of the grand puzzle. Would he have to do all the work, or could someone else aid him? His sea blue eyes swerved to the child seated at his right. Problem solved. “Hey, Sealand. I have a favor to ask of you.”
Sealand raised a semi-bushy eyebrow. “What is it?” he inquired.
“Well, Arthur and I have been in an argument over Alfred and Matthew,” here, France snatched up a pillow, and clutched it in his arms, “I want Alfred in my army, but Arthur refuses to cooperate. How can he not? Alfred’s strength is incredible! Any country in his right mind would want a colony like that on his side.”
Sealand desired to inform France that America had the right to agree or decline this decision, but France didn’t give out the opportunity to speak. “This is where you come in, Peter,” he used his future son’s human name to make things less formal. “I want to you go out and find a flower for me.”
A flower? Sealand practically snickered out loud at the sudden transition. How would a flower help swage England’s opinion?
France satisfied the question floating on Sealand’s tongue. “Now, this flower is not your ordinary rose. It is a deep purple and has a very alluring aroma that is quite hard to ignore. I believe it is known as “love-in-idleness”?” the European glanced at the younger nation, searching for a sign of cognizance within his facial features.
Sealand was ruminative for a second before his face brightened in realization. “I think I’ve heard of that flower before! Dad has it somewhere in his garden,” a wave of excitement washed his countenance, but withdrew just as powerfully. “Why are you asking me to do this and what exactly do you plan to do with the flower?”
A sort of grimace dominated France’s features, an indication the nation had not expected Sealand to question the origin of his demands, but was wiped away in that instant. “I’m from the past, aren’t I? You wouldn’t want me out there, bringing all sorts of attention and whatnot.”
Sealand’s lower lip trembled at the mere sight of the expression wrought on France. “N-n-no…” he stuttered, shrinking into the couch. “I wouldn’t….”
“Didn’t think so…” France confirmed, pleased with himself. “Plus, if you agree to do this for me, I might just try to promote your nationhood at a meeting with other countries once you are born.”
Sealand’s blue eyes glowed as visions of unprecedented recognition flashed through his brain. Oh how Sealand hankered for a global status as a nation! Amongst the others, he was a mere child, not anywhere close to becoming a country of his own. If France could persuade the countries to accept him…He could almost hear a triumphant fanfare of his soon-to-be anthem ringing across the sea port, almost see his wondrous flag flapping in the wind amongst other nations in the world, a proud sovereign state, almost taste the bitter defeat of his father England as he fell under the rule of the mighty Peter Kirkland!
“What do you say?” France’s inquisition wakened Sealand from his daydreams. Without taking a second to rethink, Sealand blurted, “Of course! I’ll do it!”
“That’s my micro nation!” France declared, placing his hands firmly on the twelve-year-old’s shoulder. “Now go fetch me that flower. I’ll explain everything to you once the herb is here.”
Sealand nodded vigorously, adamancy setting into his deposition. He rose from the couch, mind completely focused on the task ahead. At one point or another, he might’ve briefly recalled the fact that the entire mission remained confidential, but his mind pushed these unsettling thoughts away.
*~*~*
France had his eyes locked on Sealand until the child exited the dwelling. The European allowed himself to occupy the total space available on the sofa. Using upturned palms as a pillow, France grinned, already working out the rest of his master plan like an author would work out an intricate plot.
He had just been comparing two scenarios and their possible outcomes when two foreign voices indentified themselves. They were slightly muffled, but it was inferred the voices contained volume in order to be audible from an enclosed area. The conversation piquing his interest, he glanced through the window, spying two bickering males. They faced each other, one enraged, the other disheartened. The skin on France’s forehead wrinkled in surprise as he recognized China, his ponytail and panda dead giveaways to his identity. The younger child remained free from label, France assuming it was some country that was created far after the time era he was accustomed to. Unlatching the window and pushing the pane up, he silently settled down to listen.
*~*~*
China hadn’t broken his stride in the hour he had been traveling. Naturally, he had made several rests on his journey west, but his urgency induced the country to spend the majority of his time walking, his heart pounding, not just from the strenuous exercise, but from his augmenting fear of what he would come to face with at the end of his journey. Could he impede Greece and Japan’s plans or would he arrive too late? The thought of his failure haunted him and compelled him to travel faster every time his mind was reminded of what he was trying to prevent.
“Aniki!” China groaned under his breath, vexation building up in his abdomen as he turned to face Korea for the umpteenth time.
It hadn’t occurred to the older nation how much damage the grief and martyrdom Korea’s unrequited love had caused until this point in time. The Asian’s face was lugubrious, his eyes dulled with fatigue. The utter defeat written on Korea almost brought forth tears from China’s eyes. For the brusquest of moments, China held the insuperable urge to engulf the child he had once raised into his arms and apologize, but what did he have to be sorry about? China didn’t love Korea. Period.
“Why are you so intent on this?” Korea wailed, exasperation in his voice, “What could you possibly gain from separating Greece and Japan?” his sleeves flapped around, appearing to be like two flimsy wings.
China frowned, folding his arms over his chest. “That’s none of your business, aru,” he grumbled, not in the mood to be once again interrogated about his motives. He made a move to continue his journey before those white tubes of cloth closed tightly around China’s waist. He was spun around against his will so that his front was oriented toward Korea. Their foreheads were pressed together as Korea spoke. “Tell me why, aniki.”
China obstinately wriggled in the hold, his hands trying to pry himself free, but the grip only grew firmer. “Let. Go. Of. Me. Aru!” he snarled through gritted teeth, the soles of his shoes stamping on Korea’s flats. The younger nation made no sign of undergoing irritation, despite the strength China displayed as he inflicted damage upon the other’s feet.
“I’m not letting you free until you tell me what you are working so hard to gain. Why does Japan’s attention mean so much to you?” Korea‘s constraint squeezed China’s forearms harshly to his hips. “I’m just as close to you as he is! I….I actually care about you, aniki!” Water sprinkled his irises. “More than Japan ever will.”
China shuddered as he felt Korea’s steamy breath moisten his lips. His pulse raced at how unbearably close they were, so close...closer than they had been in a long time. For the next passing seconds, all thought seemed to evaporate from China as he drifted into an interrogative state. Could Korea really be the person whom he was seeking? Was Japan not the right match? China’s thoughts floated around, a sudden state of confusion striking him.
In a sudden moment, the old nation began to become aware of something pleasantly warm pressed against his mouth. And it felt good. Surprisingly good, as if an age-old craving had at last been satisfied. A bubble of utter enjoyment swelled, nerves crackling with a sensation of acceptance charged with adrenaline. His eyes fluttered open, content to gaze upon the thing that had brought with it such enlightenment.
The core of China’s soul seeped into the recesses of disgust and horrification. Korea was kissing him. On the lips! In a flash, the gusto dematerialized as he ripped himself out of Korea’s embrace. “What…..why were you kissing me, aru?” he inquired, trembling in repugnance.
Features watered down in ruin, Korea rasped, “I….I’m in love with you, Yao,” China’s pulse leaped at the usage of his real name. “I don’t care if you hate me to death. I’ll still love you.”
The ancient nation had known for quite a long time of Korea’s feelings towards him. He hadn’t necessarily been subtle about them. Still, to hear to confession leak out of the Korean’s mouth took the wind out of him. For an undistinguished reason, tears pricked at his eyes as he absorbed the sight of his younger brother, crushed by a force he himself was exerting. After all, he firmly did not return Korea’s love.
China shook his head, clearing his thoughts from pity. He didn’t love Korea. It wasn’t his fault the peninsula nation had chosen the wrong person to dote upon. If the relationship didn’t work out, it didn’t work out. China would rather live alone and rejected than to accept love as a mere condolence. “I’m sorry, but I don’t feel the same way, aru,” China stated flatly over his shoulder. He began another march to the west, barricading his senses from the other’s cries.
He did not love Korea. China had called to mind that concrete fact too many times to number.
Yet why did he have such a hard time believing it?
*~*~*
Sealand re-entered the house, a flower beyond beautiful in his clutch. It hadn’t been hard at all to find due to the alluring aroma France had described. He couldn’t fathom how an herb could smell so distinctly like sea water and melted chocolate, but with the events of the past few hours, he was inclined to accept the oddity as truth.
France’s blue eyes glittered at the sight of the bud. “Perfect, Peter! That’s exactly the flower I was looking for!” he rose to his feet, eager to have the magical item in his possession. He took the flower from Sealand, for a moment drawn by its scent of baked bread, a bouquet of roses and a glass of crisp wine, but shook himself from the brief stupor. “I guess now would be the time to explain what we are going to do,”
The older country lightly rubbed one the petals as he spoke. “I don’t know if you are aware of this yet, but this flower has the magical powers to make anyone fall deeply in love with anything. What you do is apply the flower’s nectar to a sleeping person’s eyelid. When they wake up, they will be smitten with the first living creature they lay their eyes on.”
Sealand felt a question bite at his tongue, but it seemed to answer itself. “So….you want England to fall in love with you so much that he’ll do whatever you say. That’s how you’re going to get America.” A breach of certainty radiated from him as he presented his theory.
“Close.” France stuck a hand into a pocket, revealing a miniscule plastic eyedropper. “I want to get Arthur to fall in love with some ugly beast.” The tube slipped into the flower’s narrow structure. France squeezed the rubber top, sucking up enough nectar to fill the tube. “That way, I can get back at him for the Seven Year’s War. My economy is suffering because of all these wars.” France withdrew the eyedropper, now filled with juice. He handed back the love-in-idleness bud to Sealand. “Anyway, there should be plenty of nectar for you to do your job.”
The preteen was, at this point, completely perplexed at his position. “What are you doing with the nectar you took out?” he questioned “And what am I doing with the flower?”
“Well, I’m going to be taking care of Arthur, while you go and help some lovers I just saw having a struggle. I believe one of them was China.”
China? Sealand pursed his lips, not understanding why such an old country would be having difficulties with love.
“I didn’t recognize the other nation he was with, but the latter seemed desperate for China to be his boyfriend.” France flipped his locks. “I’m sure you are familiar with him, though. He was an Asian boy, with brown eyes and short, dark hair. He was-“
“OH! I know exactly who you’re talking about!” Sealand exclaimed, an exultant expression on his face. “Don’t know why he’d be chasing after China of all people, but I’ve met him before. He’s a nice fellow. Quiet, yet nice and he’s pretty polite, too.”
A befuddle look over came France, somehow feeling that the description given did not match up with the youth he had recently witnessed. “Peter, I don’t-“
“There’s no need to worry, France. I’ve got things all under control. I know exactly who to take this to,” Sealand waved his hand as a sign of dismissal. “So, where did the two of them go?”
“West into the neighboring forest. I would search there. Once you’ve found the couple asleep, squeeze a drop of nectar onto each of China’s eyelids. If you squeeze the base of the bud, a drop should form on the top of the stigma,” he indicated a thin part of the flower within the bud. “Be certain that the next thing China sees is the one interested in him. You got it?”
“Yup! Like I said, France, I know what I’m doing!”
“Okay. Hop to it then!”
Right on command, Sealand once again maneuvered to the door, racing out into the open to perform his duty. As he departed, France could only feebly hope that the self-assertive micro nation would not fail at accomplishing their goal.
*~*~*
FOOTNOTES
Section 1: In which we discover what France needs Sealand for. Sort of similar to how Puck was dismissed by Oberon, but with fewer questions.
Section 2: Short little bit with France. No true parallelism here.
Section 3: Oh the drama! Lemme tell you, the original was REALLY sappy when Helena tried to get Demetrius to stop. I put this into China’s viewpoint, though, because I felt it would be way too dramatic if this scene was from Korea’s eyes.
Section 4: More instructions from France to Sealand. Pretty close to the original.
Short footnotes are short due to the straightforwardness of this chapter (something I wasn’t expecting.) I’m sure you all were appreciative of that in any event. See you all next post!
~Curlee1029
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