Family Ties [Part 14]
Title: Family Ties
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, and the Ireland sibs.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Giant paragraphs on world politics written by an idiot with the barest grasp on how the world works.
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. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Arthur felt that if he spent one more day in the hospital, he was going to scream.
No, that would be a bad idea, because they would suspect something was wrong in his head and keep him here longer and then they’d find out how secretly insane he was, like most Nations tended to be, which meant they’d keep him here forever and-
He was obviously on too much medication.
“Oh, you’re awake for once.” Wales blinked, striding into the room with some roses and daffodils. He could see some of the nurses exchange looks over the strange combination of flowers, but they made Arthur smile.
“Nice to see you too. It’s been, what, three days?”
“More like four, you were out for most of the first.” Wales sat himself heavily in the chair next to the bed, arranging the flowers in a vase. Dark circles buried themselves into his face, and England frowned, concerned.
“Darren, have you been sleeping?” he leant forward to try and get a better look at his sibling, before remembering that was a bad idea. “Ow.”
“Hey, don’t be a twit now, Artie.” England was pushed gently back down onto the propped up pillows. He gave Wales a stern look.
“Don’t coddle me like a child, Darren. What’s been going on?”
Wales seemed to debate something internally, before heaving a long sigh, falling back on his chair and running a hand over his face.
“We seem to have triggered World War Three.”
“… What.”
“Well you see, Alfred took Ivan giving the terrorists the bombs personally and-”
“What.”
“- seems to think it’s like Ivan attacked you directly or something- Arthur, sit back down, you’ll tear your stitches.”
“WHAT?!” England screeched, bolt upright in bed, clutching at the covers and looking absolutely livid. “That utter IDIOT! I can’t believe he’d start it over something as stupid as this! Look at me, I’m bloody fine!”
“Actually, I think Ivan’s been looking for an opportunity for the past thirty years, but- voice level, Art!”
“Let me out of here so I can box his ears! That upstart little brat is going to end the goddamn world!”
“We’ve agreed no nukes and- Arthur, shut up a moment and listen-”
“I bet it was that one time I let James play with him as a child and he ended up with a concussion; something got knocked out of place-”
“Ireland’s on our side.”
Ah, blissful silence returned. England gaped, only remembered to breathe ten seconds after the fact. Then he shuddered slightly and leaned back on his pillows, touching his side gingerly.
“Ow. Okay, I think they’ve given me too much pain killers, because I could have sworn you just said-”
“Aine called me earlier today, saying she wanted in on our side.” Wales elaborated, arms folded. “And no, I’m not kidding. I think she said something about Éibhear being a pest and not letting her sit neutral.”
“What would she have to gain from siding with us…” England murmured, staring at the ceiling like it might answer this mystery for him. Wales shrugged.
“God only knows.”
“Don’t bring God into this.” England groaned. “This time, let it just be the affairs of men that cause this chaos.”
Darren’s phone went off again, three short buzzes, a text. He flicked it open, ignoring England’s mutters to turn it off, they were in a hospital with sensitive equipment, and read it quickly. “Shit, it’s from Israel.”
“Oh, just what’s needed.” England snarked. “What have the Middle East done now?”
“Joined Russia.”
Herein follows a number of curse words so old, foul and nasty they should never be put to screen nor paper.
“Diaspora will never forgive me if I don’t protect him, will she.” England was just about ready to die right now.
“You mean ‘if we don’t protect him’, and no, she won’t.” Wales corrected. “Speaking of feisty women, India says she’ll provide financial support, but no soldiers or weapons.”
“Just brilliant. Anything else I should know?”
“Most of the Commonwealth are either wanting to send troops or financial aid. Some of the smaller ones are staying out of it full stop.”
“Good, don’t want them hurt.” Arthur mumbled, eyebrows knitting together. “Can’t you persuade them out of it?”
“Australia and New Zealand both seem convinced that the other is coming to the party without them, so that’s a lost cause. Canada was probably in before America and nobody noticed. And, actually, Hong Kong’s sent me this encoded email that says he’ll help however he can, but China’s financially aiding Russia.”
England leaned his head back and sighed. “Well if this isn’t the biggest shitstorm on the planet, I don’t know what is.” A contemplative pause. “People are going to die again. Like they did in the last one. Hundred of thousands, a whole generation…”
“… probably.” Wales doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t lie.
“Bugger.”
“Quite.”
-----
Standing in front of his sister’s house, Arthur couldn’t help but think this meeting would be a tad awkward.
“Darreeeeeen!”
But from the way Northern Ireland barreled through the door and tackled Wales round the waist, he was alone in this feeling. Wales stumbled back a few steps, trying to pry his laughing younger brother off him, just as Ireland walked through the door. Her hair was up this time, which meant she intended this to be business.
“Get off me, you little limpet.” Wales bopped Northern Ireland playfully on the head. The red head squawked and let go, grinning and moving so that Ireland could give Wales a welcoming hug. Arthur shifted away, slightly wary of his healing injuries being touched, but Aine held out her hand to shake instead. He took it.
“Come on inside, you’re lettin’ the heat out.” She urged, all but pushing them through the door.
Once settled in the study with a mug of tea each, Ireland pulled out a world map, helpfully colour coded.
“Okay, so, here’s what we’ve got.” She pointed to the areas highlighted in green. “We have America, Australia, New Zealand, and Canada sending us troops right now. They’re fully on our side.” Her finger moved to a yellow outlined country. “These guys are still on the fence about the whole deal. Japan’s taking a vote on it, Israel’s stocking up weapons, and Portugal’s building up his navy, Greece is waking up from his nap, among others.” A lot of the old colonies were outlined in yellow also, but England had a suspicion that they would opt out in the end. “People who have opted out are South Africa and most of the other African Nations, who say they’re tired of our shit and have their own problems, and the Scandinavians, including Iceland.” She shrugged. “Less fun for them, then. Ones who are out but sending us financial help are India, South Korea- and no, I don’t know what the hell is up with that- Philippines, and the vast majority of these guys out here.” Manicured nails circled the hundreds of small islands in the Pacific. “But god knows we don’t want them bankrupted, so maybe we should turn them down on that? Whatever, questions so far?”
Northern Ireland put his hand up.
“Yes, you, the devilishly handsome young man at the back there.” Ireland chuckled.
“Yeah, who’s Canada?”
Wales clipped him round the ear. “It’s not funny when people actually mean it, much less when you’re just picking on the poor lad.” Northern Ireland sulked at him.
“Just because you get the same treatment most of the- ow!”
“Anyway.” Ireland talked over them, tapping her fingernails on the map. “Does nobody want to see what we’re up against?” her brothers stilled and watched her. “Much better. Okay so obviously, we have Scotty up here, France down here, and this big ugly motherfucker up here.”
“I thought you liked Russia.” England said without thinking, before quickly closing his mouth. Goddamn pain meds.
“I did.” Ireland acknowledged “But then he actually beat me in a drinking contest. So we cut off ties.”
“I thought you cut off ties because he tried to do something creepy to you and you were pissed that he was picking on England when that was ‘your job’ so you slapped him and walked out?” Éibhear piped up, and got another clip around the ear for his trouble.
“North, sweetheart, shut up.” Ireland smiled. It was terrifying. “Back to the map. Also on Russia’s team is Turkey and maybe half the Middle East? People keep going in and out and I’ve kind of lost track, but Palestine’s in, along with Iraq and Iran who I think are just doing it to get back at America but I could be wrong.” She rolled her eyes. “Then we’ve got North Korea, which almost makes the South Korea thing make sense only it doesn’t because South’s not actually fighting but what the hell ever. And Russia appears to be looming all over the old Eastern Bloc, but the Baltics haven’t given in yet and Hungary’s been sharpening her frying pan if he tries anything. Poland’s declared himself neutral ahead of time, we’ll see how that turns out.” A brief pause to scratch her neck came here, her eyebrows pulling together into a frown. “Okay, it gets confusing here. Fegging Europe and their cliques. Because France is in, East and West Germany are having this huge argument on whether they should help him out. Spain is being so bipolar about the whole thing I’m beginning to think he’ll go MPD-Civil-War on us, but the majority seems to lean towards helping France, which is bad news for Portugal. The Italies will follow if Germany and Spain kick off, Belgium and Netherlands have told everyone to screw off unless Switzerland actually chooses a side, ditto Czech Republic and Slovakia.”
Northern Ireland whistled low. “Daaamn, that’s a lot of people.”
“If Europe turns against us fully, we’re fucked.” England deadpanned, staring at the map like it was going to bite him.
“If Europe turns against us fully, they’re fucked. By Russia, most likely.” Ireland added.
A thoughtful quiet settled.
Wales’ phone went off.
“For god’s sake, I don’t know why I don’t throw this thing away.” He grumbled, flipping it open to read the text. Unnoticed, the youngest sibling went still.
Knock knock.
Something cracked like thunder in the distance, and Northern Ireland collapsed.
Notes:
-The Daffodil and the Rose are the national flowers of Wales and England, respectively. They clash really badly. But at least they're not weeds like Scotland's are. (Really, James? A thistle? Suits him though.)
-Yes, it was Ireland on the phone.
-Turkey would most likely join Russia, if a fight broke out, and where Turkey goes, most of the Arabic nations seem to follow. That, and everyone in the Middle East kind of sort of hates on Israel. Israel = symbol of the west. It's a sensitive issue, one that the British Empire started due to promising both the Arabs and the Jews the same bit of land after WW2. It's complicated.
-On Diaspora: this is the name for the dispersion of the Jews throughout the world. Personal headcanon: this is the Old Israel (art done by me), exiled from her homeland by Rome in 135AD after the destruction of the Jewish state. The new, Modern Israel (art again by me) is her son, due to being, y'know, not a theocracy or abiding by the Torah laws (though they have influence) and therefore not Old Israel. I wrote a 5 page essay on this and I stand by it. Yeah. Don't hurt me.
Part 15
Characters (in this chapter): England, Wales, and the Ireland sibs.
Rating: 15
Warnings: Giant paragraphs on world politics written by an idiot with the barest grasp on how the world works.
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. Oh yeah, and this somehow leads to World War Three.
Arthur felt that if he spent one more day in the hospital, he was going to scream.
No, that would be a bad idea, because they would suspect something was wrong in his head and keep him here longer and then they’d find out how secretly insane he was, like most Nations tended to be, which meant they’d keep him here forever and-
He was obviously on too much medication.
“Oh, you’re awake for once.” Wales blinked, striding into the room with some roses and daffodils. He could see some of the nurses exchange looks over the strange combination of flowers, but they made Arthur smile.
“Nice to see you too. It’s been, what, three days?”
“More like four, you were out for most of the first.” Wales sat himself heavily in the chair next to the bed, arranging the flowers in a vase. Dark circles buried themselves into his face, and England frowned, concerned.
“Darren, have you been sleeping?” he leant forward to try and get a better look at his sibling, before remembering that was a bad idea. “Ow.”
“Hey, don’t be a twit now, Artie.” England was pushed gently back down onto the propped up pillows. He gave Wales a stern look.
“Don’t coddle me like a child, Darren. What’s been going on?”
Wales seemed to debate something internally, before heaving a long sigh, falling back on his chair and running a hand over his face.
“We seem to have triggered World War Three.”
“… What.”
“Well you see, Alfred took Ivan giving the terrorists the bombs personally and-”
“What.”
“- seems to think it’s like Ivan attacked you directly or something- Arthur, sit back down, you’ll tear your stitches.”
“WHAT?!” England screeched, bolt upright in bed, clutching at the covers and looking absolutely livid. “That utter IDIOT! I can’t believe he’d start it over something as stupid as this! Look at me, I’m bloody fine!”
“Actually, I think Ivan’s been looking for an opportunity for the past thirty years, but- voice level, Art!”
“Let me out of here so I can box his ears! That upstart little brat is going to end the goddamn world!”
“We’ve agreed no nukes and- Arthur, shut up a moment and listen-”
“I bet it was that one time I let James play with him as a child and he ended up with a concussion; something got knocked out of place-”
“Ireland’s on our side.”
Ah, blissful silence returned. England gaped, only remembered to breathe ten seconds after the fact. Then he shuddered slightly and leaned back on his pillows, touching his side gingerly.
“Ow. Okay, I think they’ve given me too much pain killers, because I could have sworn you just said-”
“Aine called me earlier today, saying she wanted in on our side.” Wales elaborated, arms folded. “And no, I’m not kidding. I think she said something about Éibhear being a pest and not letting her sit neutral.”
“What would she have to gain from siding with us…” England murmured, staring at the ceiling like it might answer this mystery for him. Wales shrugged.
“God only knows.”
“Don’t bring God into this.” England groaned. “This time, let it just be the affairs of men that cause this chaos.”
Darren’s phone went off again, three short buzzes, a text. He flicked it open, ignoring England’s mutters to turn it off, they were in a hospital with sensitive equipment, and read it quickly. “Shit, it’s from Israel.”
“Oh, just what’s needed.” England snarked. “What have the Middle East done now?”
“Joined Russia.”
Herein follows a number of curse words so old, foul and nasty they should never be put to screen nor paper.
“Diaspora will never forgive me if I don’t protect him, will she.” England was just about ready to die right now.
“You mean ‘if we don’t protect him’, and no, she won’t.” Wales corrected. “Speaking of feisty women, India says she’ll provide financial support, but no soldiers or weapons.”
“Just brilliant. Anything else I should know?”
“Most of the Commonwealth are either wanting to send troops or financial aid. Some of the smaller ones are staying out of it full stop.”
“Good, don’t want them hurt.” Arthur mumbled, eyebrows knitting together. “Can’t you persuade them out of it?”
“Australia and New Zealand both seem convinced that the other is coming to the party without them, so that’s a lost cause. Canada was probably in before America and nobody noticed. And, actually, Hong Kong’s sent me this encoded email that says he’ll help however he can, but China’s financially aiding Russia.”
England leaned his head back and sighed. “Well if this isn’t the biggest shitstorm on the planet, I don’t know what is.” A contemplative pause. “People are going to die again. Like they did in the last one. Hundred of thousands, a whole generation…”
“… probably.” Wales doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t lie.
“Bugger.”
“Quite.”
-----
Standing in front of his sister’s house, Arthur couldn’t help but think this meeting would be a tad awkward.
“Darreeeeeen!”
But from the way Northern Ireland barreled through the door and tackled Wales round the waist, he was alone in this feeling. Wales stumbled back a few steps, trying to pry his laughing younger brother off him, just as Ireland walked through the door. Her hair was up this time, which meant she intended this to be business.
“Get off me, you little limpet.” Wales bopped Northern Ireland playfully on the head. The red head squawked and let go, grinning and moving so that Ireland could give Wales a welcoming hug. Arthur shifted away, slightly wary of his healing injuries being touched, but Aine held out her hand to shake instead. He took it.
“Come on inside, you’re lettin’ the heat out.” She urged, all but pushing them through the door.
Once settled in the study with a mug of tea each, Ireland pulled out a world map, helpfully colour coded.
“Okay, so, here’s what we’ve got.” She pointed to the areas highlighted in green. “We have America, Australia, New Zealand, and Canada sending us troops right now. They’re fully on our side.” Her finger moved to a yellow outlined country. “These guys are still on the fence about the whole deal. Japan’s taking a vote on it, Israel’s stocking up weapons, and Portugal’s building up his navy, Greece is waking up from his nap, among others.” A lot of the old colonies were outlined in yellow also, but England had a suspicion that they would opt out in the end. “People who have opted out are South Africa and most of the other African Nations, who say they’re tired of our shit and have their own problems, and the Scandinavians, including Iceland.” She shrugged. “Less fun for them, then. Ones who are out but sending us financial help are India, South Korea- and no, I don’t know what the hell is up with that- Philippines, and the vast majority of these guys out here.” Manicured nails circled the hundreds of small islands in the Pacific. “But god knows we don’t want them bankrupted, so maybe we should turn them down on that? Whatever, questions so far?”
Northern Ireland put his hand up.
“Yes, you, the devilishly handsome young man at the back there.” Ireland chuckled.
“Yeah, who’s Canada?”
Wales clipped him round the ear. “It’s not funny when people actually mean it, much less when you’re just picking on the poor lad.” Northern Ireland sulked at him.
“Just because you get the same treatment most of the- ow!”
“Anyway.” Ireland talked over them, tapping her fingernails on the map. “Does nobody want to see what we’re up against?” her brothers stilled and watched her. “Much better. Okay so obviously, we have Scotty up here, France down here, and this big ugly motherfucker up here.”
“I thought you liked Russia.” England said without thinking, before quickly closing his mouth. Goddamn pain meds.
“I did.” Ireland acknowledged “But then he actually beat me in a drinking contest. So we cut off ties.”
“I thought you cut off ties because he tried to do something creepy to you and you were pissed that he was picking on England when that was ‘your job’ so you slapped him and walked out?” Éibhear piped up, and got another clip around the ear for his trouble.
“North, sweetheart, shut up.” Ireland smiled. It was terrifying. “Back to the map. Also on Russia’s team is Turkey and maybe half the Middle East? People keep going in and out and I’ve kind of lost track, but Palestine’s in, along with Iraq and Iran who I think are just doing it to get back at America but I could be wrong.” She rolled her eyes. “Then we’ve got North Korea, which almost makes the South Korea thing make sense only it doesn’t because South’s not actually fighting but what the hell ever. And Russia appears to be looming all over the old Eastern Bloc, but the Baltics haven’t given in yet and Hungary’s been sharpening her frying pan if he tries anything. Poland’s declared himself neutral ahead of time, we’ll see how that turns out.” A brief pause to scratch her neck came here, her eyebrows pulling together into a frown. “Okay, it gets confusing here. Fegging Europe and their cliques. Because France is in, East and West Germany are having this huge argument on whether they should help him out. Spain is being so bipolar about the whole thing I’m beginning to think he’ll go MPD-Civil-War on us, but the majority seems to lean towards helping France, which is bad news for Portugal. The Italies will follow if Germany and Spain kick off, Belgium and Netherlands have told everyone to screw off unless Switzerland actually chooses a side, ditto Czech Republic and Slovakia.”
Northern Ireland whistled low. “Daaamn, that’s a lot of people.”
“If Europe turns against us fully, we’re fucked.” England deadpanned, staring at the map like it was going to bite him.
“If Europe turns against us fully, they’re fucked. By Russia, most likely.” Ireland added.
A thoughtful quiet settled.
Wales’ phone went off.
“For god’s sake, I don’t know why I don’t throw this thing away.” He grumbled, flipping it open to read the text. Unnoticed, the youngest sibling went still.
Knock knock.
Something cracked like thunder in the distance, and Northern Ireland collapsed.
Notes:
-The Daffodil and the Rose are the national flowers of Wales and England, respectively. They clash really badly. But at least they're not weeds like Scotland's are. (Really, James? A thistle? Suits him though.)
-Yes, it was Ireland on the phone.
-Turkey would most likely join Russia, if a fight broke out, and where Turkey goes, most of the Arabic nations seem to follow. That, and everyone in the Middle East kind of sort of hates on Israel. Israel = symbol of the west. It's a sensitive issue, one that the British Empire started due to promising both the Arabs and the Jews the same bit of land after WW2. It's complicated.
-On Diaspora: this is the name for the dispersion of the Jews throughout the world. Personal headcanon: this is the Old Israel (art done by me), exiled from her homeland by Rome in 135AD after the destruction of the Jewish state. The new, Modern Israel (art again by me) is her son, due to being, y'know, not a theocracy or abiding by the Torah laws (though they have influence) and therefore not Old Israel. I wrote a 5 page essay on this and I stand by it. Yeah. Don't hurt me.
Part 15