(if Hong Kong has a canon/fanon name, forgive me- I couldn't find it...)
anonymous
July 3 2009, 22:10:10 UTC
This might not be what OP wanted- sorry! The image just would not leave my head though, especially after having read John Simpson's book where he described the festivities from the night we handed over Hong Kong. -
Hong Kong was gone. Little James, so full of promise...
No, England corrected himself, it was Hui now. China would not suffer an English name for one of his colonies, and Arthur wondered for a moment if the child would be confused. Only he wasn't a child anymore and- damn, he needed a drink. A stiff one. There was some brandy in the cupboard, if he remembered rightly.
He bent to retrieve it, determinedly ignoring the faint porcelain 'click!' his knees made as he stood again, glass and bottle in hand. It was almost drowned out anyway- the intermittent firework showers outside made it so. It was odd, England mused as he sat, how China- inventor of gunpowder- was producing such a lacklustre display. He himself had done little better, but then again, he was not the one with cause to celebrate, was he?
No, his Empire was gone, and if Arthur Kirkland had had his way, he'd be back in England, in bed with a book to block out the regret.
Centuries of glamour and the closest anyone had ever come to world rule, and where had it got him now? A sad, lonely little island whose own siblings had as little as possible to do with, giving up colony after colony. It wasn't even like it ran in the family, for crying out loud- Rome's empire had fallen to Visigoths and a constant stream of attacks from others to boot. England, his littlest, weakest son had gone out with a whimper of treaties and democracy, and that was that.
God, if only Rome could see him now. He wouldn't laugh (well, actually, he might, but only if he were drunk- an admittedly infrequent occurence in England's early years), rather, he'd stare at the son he stole from the faeries and know he'd expected it all along. He'd probably be surprised the child had done anything actually.
Well, England supposed it would all go down in the history book, in annals like those written for his adoptive father. How he'd travelled to the edges of the map and beyond, taken America and Canada for his own, forced countless others into submission (the memory of his nights with Maya wasn't something he was likely to forget- certainly not something he was proud of). Maybe the years spent as a son and slave miles from home with only pinpricks of faerie light for comfort would be forgotten.
Boadicea and her like wouldn't, though. He hoped not, at least.
Fireworks popped and scattered halfheartedly beyond the thin glass window. Somewhere out there was Hong Kong, James, Hui. China, too, but for now it was enough to sit and reminisce.
At least he hadn't disappeared entirely yet, along with his Empire. Who were getting along just fine without him, if the reports were to be believed (they were, though England didn't want to).
"Like Father, like son, eh?" The glass of brandy was raised in a toast to the empty room. "Thanks a lot, Dad."
Re: (if Hong Kong has a canon/fanon name, forgive me- I couldn't find it...)
anonymous
July 3 2009, 22:55:28 UTC
This was powerful and depressing (in a good way). Damm, Hetalia makes me so imperialistic. Poor England.
England, his littlest, weakest son had gone out with a whimper of treaties and democracy, and that was that. OUCH. This is so sad and beautiful. Actually, there´s a lot of beautiful lines here, I can´t quote everythig (I´ll just mention the faeries. I loved it!). Great work.
(Maya´s supposed to be India? If she is, then we used the same name for her. Cool! ^^)
Re: (if Hong Kong has a canon/fanon name, forgive me- I couldn't find it...)
anonymous
July 5 2009, 17:31:36 UTC
This was very nicely written you have a good writing style even though we are all anon here I'd still say I'd like to see a fill for a longer story. Regardless I liked this piece I guess it's party since I really like England x one of his former colonies. *laughs.* This anon looks forward to see more.
-
Hong Kong was gone. Little James, so full of promise...
No, England corrected himself, it was Hui now. China would not suffer an English name for one of his colonies, and Arthur wondered for a moment if the child would be confused. Only he wasn't a child anymore and- damn, he needed a drink. A stiff one. There was some brandy in the cupboard, if he remembered rightly.
He bent to retrieve it, determinedly ignoring the faint porcelain 'click!' his knees made as he stood again, glass and bottle in hand. It was almost drowned out anyway- the intermittent firework showers outside made it so. It was odd, England mused as he sat, how China- inventor of gunpowder- was producing such a lacklustre display. He himself had done little better, but then again, he was not the one with cause to celebrate, was he?
No, his Empire was gone, and if Arthur Kirkland had had his way, he'd be back in England, in bed with a book to block out the regret.
Centuries of glamour and the closest anyone had ever come to world rule, and where had it got him now? A sad, lonely little island whose own siblings had as little as possible to do with, giving up colony after colony. It wasn't even like it ran in the family, for crying out loud- Rome's empire had fallen to Visigoths and a constant stream of attacks from others to boot. England, his littlest, weakest son had gone out with a whimper of treaties and democracy, and that was that.
God, if only Rome could see him now. He wouldn't laugh (well, actually, he might, but only if he were drunk- an admittedly infrequent occurence in England's early years), rather, he'd stare at the son he stole from the faeries and know he'd expected it all along. He'd probably be surprised the child had done anything actually.
Well, England supposed it would all go down in the history book, in annals like those written for his adoptive father. How he'd travelled to the edges of the map and beyond, taken America and Canada for his own, forced countless others into submission (the memory of his nights with Maya wasn't something he was likely to forget- certainly not something he was proud of). Maybe the years spent as a son and slave miles from home with only pinpricks of faerie light for comfort would be forgotten.
Boadicea and her like wouldn't, though. He hoped not, at least.
Fireworks popped and scattered halfheartedly beyond the thin glass window. Somewhere out there was Hong Kong, James, Hui. China, too, but for now it was enough to sit and reminisce.
At least he hadn't disappeared entirely yet, along with his Empire. Who were getting along just fine without him, if the reports were to be believed (they were, though England didn't want to).
"Like Father, like son, eh?" The glass of brandy was raised in a toast to the empty room. "Thanks a lot, Dad."
Reply
England, his littlest, weakest son had gone out with a whimper of treaties and democracy, and that was that. OUCH. This is so sad and beautiful. Actually, there´s a lot of beautiful lines here, I can´t quote everythig (I´ll just mention the faeries. I loved it!). Great work.
(Maya´s supposed to be India? If she is, then we used the same name for her. Cool! ^^)
Reply
(She is indeed! It's a very pretty name for her, ne?)
Reply
Reply
And thankyou!
Reply
Et cetera.
Thanks so much for the lovely fill, Author!anon.
It's wonderful how you called England Rome's son, which is reasonably canon, but not often touched upon.
brb Yaying under breath
Reply
(And it's canon outside my head too? Yay!)
Reply
This was my very first request, and you filled it so quickly and so well.
*is still reeling happily*
Reply
This anon looks forward to see more.
Reply
Leave a comment