[FANFIC] By Any Other Name
Title: By Any Other Name
Author/Artist: thewaterbandit
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: America and England talk cabbages and kings. Well. Chips and kings. This is my first time writing America, so please be gentle!
It had started, as things usually did with England, in a pub. America had come over on one of his periodic visits (although they were getting fewer and fewer these days, and that was something that England preferred not to think about) and like always they had left their bosses to talk things over without the personifications of their respective countries breathing down their necks. It tended to make Gordon nervous. England couldn't imagine why.
America was hungry, as always, so they'd found a gastropub and ordered some food. The burger, when it came, got a suspicious prod and a sniff from America before he shoved it in his mouth.
"This is actually pretty good!" he beamed, crumbs flying across the table. "I mean, it's no McDonalds, but better than that godawful Wimpy place."
"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." England replied, picking bits of lettuce out of his beer. He hadn't ordered anything and contented himself with stealing America's chips.
"Canada asked me a weird question the other day." America swatted England's hand away from his plate and started to eat the chips, two-at-a-time.
"Did he?"
"Yeah. He wanted to know why I was called Alfred, and of course I don't know, so I figured I'd ask you. After all, you did choose it."
"I remember, yes." England sipped at his beer. "You seemed happy enough with it at the time."
"Well, it's not a very.... American name, is it? Even back then." America had finished the burger and moved on to the salad, still keeping an eye on the chips. "Couldn't you have called me, I dunno, John or something?"
England shuddered. "Not John. Never."
America gave him a sideways look and carried on picking at the salad.
"So why Alfred?"
"'Ungrateful, immature loudmouth' seemed a bit long."
He dodged the thrown ketchup packet and took advantage of Alfred's temporary distraction to steal another chip.
"If you really want to know, I'll show you. But hurry up and finish your lunch." he drained the last of his pint and looked down into the glass ruefully. "You're going to have to drive."
***
Even with its ornamental blue railings and carved stand, the stone seemed incongruous in the neat green lawns and car park of Kingston Guildhall. Arthur approached it with something akin to reverence, if one could feel such awe for a lump of stone. America followed him, hands deep in his jacket pockets.
"So what's the big deal about this rock, then?" he asked, mainly to annoy England. The older country rose to the bait magnificently.
"This is not just a rock." he snapped. "This is the Coronation Stone. Seven of my kings were crowned here, if you'd bother to read the inscription."
America could practically see those capitals. He walked up and leaned his elbows on the railings, studying the carvings. They were names, he realised, written out in the delicate, old style of writing with its funny 'E's and ashes and thorns that he could remember England using for poetry sometimes. "So what does it have to do with me?"
"See Edward the Elder's name?" England pointed. "I named you after his father."
"I'm named after one of your kings?" Alfred looked up at the older man. "Was he cool?"
"I remember him as The Great." England replied, looking up at the spears that formed the corners in the railings, remembering when he'd fought with spear and sword and blood for a land that he'd feared would vanish. "When he came to power, I wasn't much older than Sealand, and Denmark and Sweden had been coming over for years and years- almost as soon as Rome left. They even attacked me as I was burying Alfred's father. It seemed for a while like everyone was coming over to have a go at taking my land, and I wasn't sure I'd survive very long. And while at first Alfred didn't seem like much, he gave me some respite from that. Reclaimed London. Taught me to read and write, even. For the first time in a long while, I had something to be proud of."
Arthur turned and looked at America.
"I named all my colonies after my kings, Alfred. But I saved the greatest for you."
America looked away and shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, it's nice to have something to live up to, right?" he replied, and laughed, a little nervously. Sometimes he forgot how England could be so full of history that it practically leaked out of his pores- the man spoke constantly in quotes and allusions, living with one foot in the past and one rooted somewhere America wasn't sure even existed, away with the damn fairies, as England would put it.
"Thanks, anyway." He brightened. "Hey, you're named after a king too, right? Who named you?"
Arthur looked vaguely embarrassed. "Rome. Then I changed it to something less... him."
"There's gotta be a story in that!" Alfred enthused. "Come on, tell me!" He looked around. "And while you're at it, you can buy me some more fries. You ate like half my plate back in London."
Bickering and chatting, the two countries walked back to the car. It was going to be a long drive.
The Coronation Stone is in the Royal Borough of Kingston-Upon-Thames, which also happens to be very near where I live. You can still go and see the stone, like America and England, standing in the grounds of the Guildhall. King Alfred the Great wasn't crowned there, but as England says, his son and six more successors were.
England will never call anyone John because of King John (he of Magna Carta and Robin Hood fame) of whom it was said 'As foul as it is, Hell itself would be tainted by the presence of John'. He's pretty much the reason why we haven't had a King John since.
Wimpy was a British attempt at a McDonalds. As you can probably guess, they're not doing well any more.
Author/Artist: thewaterbandit
Character(s) or Pairing(s): America, England
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Summary: America and England talk cabbages and kings. Well. Chips and kings. This is my first time writing America, so please be gentle!
It had started, as things usually did with England, in a pub. America had come over on one of his periodic visits (although they were getting fewer and fewer these days, and that was something that England preferred not to think about) and like always they had left their bosses to talk things over without the personifications of their respective countries breathing down their necks. It tended to make Gordon nervous. England couldn't imagine why.
America was hungry, as always, so they'd found a gastropub and ordered some food. The burger, when it came, got a suspicious prod and a sniff from America before he shoved it in his mouth.
"This is actually pretty good!" he beamed, crumbs flying across the table. "I mean, it's no McDonalds, but better than that godawful Wimpy place."
"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment." England replied, picking bits of lettuce out of his beer. He hadn't ordered anything and contented himself with stealing America's chips.
"Canada asked me a weird question the other day." America swatted England's hand away from his plate and started to eat the chips, two-at-a-time.
"Did he?"
"Yeah. He wanted to know why I was called Alfred, and of course I don't know, so I figured I'd ask you. After all, you did choose it."
"I remember, yes." England sipped at his beer. "You seemed happy enough with it at the time."
"Well, it's not a very.... American name, is it? Even back then." America had finished the burger and moved on to the salad, still keeping an eye on the chips. "Couldn't you have called me, I dunno, John or something?"
England shuddered. "Not John. Never."
America gave him a sideways look and carried on picking at the salad.
"So why Alfred?"
"'Ungrateful, immature loudmouth' seemed a bit long."
He dodged the thrown ketchup packet and took advantage of Alfred's temporary distraction to steal another chip.
"If you really want to know, I'll show you. But hurry up and finish your lunch." he drained the last of his pint and looked down into the glass ruefully. "You're going to have to drive."
***
Even with its ornamental blue railings and carved stand, the stone seemed incongruous in the neat green lawns and car park of Kingston Guildhall. Arthur approached it with something akin to reverence, if one could feel such awe for a lump of stone. America followed him, hands deep in his jacket pockets.
"So what's the big deal about this rock, then?" he asked, mainly to annoy England. The older country rose to the bait magnificently.
"This is not just a rock." he snapped. "This is the Coronation Stone. Seven of my kings were crowned here, if you'd bother to read the inscription."
America could practically see those capitals. He walked up and leaned his elbows on the railings, studying the carvings. They were names, he realised, written out in the delicate, old style of writing with its funny 'E's and ashes and thorns that he could remember England using for poetry sometimes. "So what does it have to do with me?"
"See Edward the Elder's name?" England pointed. "I named you after his father."
"I'm named after one of your kings?" Alfred looked up at the older man. "Was he cool?"
"I remember him as The Great." England replied, looking up at the spears that formed the corners in the railings, remembering when he'd fought with spear and sword and blood for a land that he'd feared would vanish. "When he came to power, I wasn't much older than Sealand, and Denmark and Sweden had been coming over for years and years- almost as soon as Rome left. They even attacked me as I was burying Alfred's father. It seemed for a while like everyone was coming over to have a go at taking my land, and I wasn't sure I'd survive very long. And while at first Alfred didn't seem like much, he gave me some respite from that. Reclaimed London. Taught me to read and write, even. For the first time in a long while, I had something to be proud of."
Arthur turned and looked at America.
"I named all my colonies after my kings, Alfred. But I saved the greatest for you."
America looked away and shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, it's nice to have something to live up to, right?" he replied, and laughed, a little nervously. Sometimes he forgot how England could be so full of history that it practically leaked out of his pores- the man spoke constantly in quotes and allusions, living with one foot in the past and one rooted somewhere America wasn't sure even existed, away with the damn fairies, as England would put it.
"Thanks, anyway." He brightened. "Hey, you're named after a king too, right? Who named you?"
Arthur looked vaguely embarrassed. "Rome. Then I changed it to something less... him."
"There's gotta be a story in that!" Alfred enthused. "Come on, tell me!" He looked around. "And while you're at it, you can buy me some more fries. You ate like half my plate back in London."
Bickering and chatting, the two countries walked back to the car. It was going to be a long drive.
The Coronation Stone is in the Royal Borough of Kingston-Upon-Thames, which also happens to be very near where I live. You can still go and see the stone, like America and England, standing in the grounds of the Guildhall. King Alfred the Great wasn't crowned there, but as England says, his son and six more successors were.
England will never call anyone John because of King John (he of Magna Carta and Robin Hood fame) of whom it was said 'As foul as it is, Hell itself would be tainted by the presence of John'. He's pretty much the reason why we haven't had a King John since.
Wimpy was a British attempt at a McDonalds. As you can probably guess, they're not doing well any more.