The fire was crackling merrily in the hearth when a pound came from the front. The blond nation looked to the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone. John said the next hunting trip wasn’t until Sunday and he wasn’t due to go on any peace talks for another week. The pounding continued along with some swearing as America made his way to the door. It was probably a lost traveler or fur trader!
With a great pull America swung the door open, “Howdy!” he greeted the person behind the door. A tower of boxes was wobbling about, “Finally!” a clipped British voice exclaimed. America did a double take because the voice sounded eerily like his old caretaker, England. While he was thinking the packages were shoved into America’s hands as the stranger pushed his way in in.
“Uh hey man,” America said, “I didn’t order anything. You’ve got the wrong place...” He placed the boxes down and turned to face the, likely dirty and tired, traveler.
A short blond man was brushing down the front of his suit. He wasn’t what America was expecting at all. His hands were wrapped in white gloves. He was wearing shiny black dress shoes. He looked like he should be walking down the road in a grand city in Europe rather the up and coming town of Boston.
He looked up at America with one big, bushy eyebrow raised, “I was expecting a little bit more of a welcome than that.”
Green eyes, picnics by the water, large hands, bed time stories, burnt food, magic, ships sailing away... America’s brain short circuited.
“England?”
“America?” England gasped, “You’ve grown so big!”
America laughed, but he was shaken at how small how old caretaker appeared. In his memories England was like a tree. When he picked America up it felt like he was flying.
“Yeah, ugh I’ve hit a few growth spurts since you left,” America shuffled awkwardly. Warm hands ran up his arms. America laughed and batted at them.
“I’ve never seen a nation grow so fast before,” England breathed.
America smiled. He knew their kind took longer to grow but he hadn’t seen anyone in so long he’d put it out of his mind.
“It’s cause I’m special,” America grinned the realization that England was home finally hitting him.
“I’m so glad your back!” America said pulling the other nation into a bear hug.
“America! Let me go! This is entirely improper from a gentlemen.”
America ignored him and pulled on his hand.
“Come on! I want to show you my room!” Alfred exclaimed, “I’ve started making my own furniture!”
He bounded up the stairs pulling a limp England behind him.
“Oh and I’ve also got some really awesome heads for you to see!”
“You hunt?” came the dazed reply from England.
“One of the deer has 14 points!”
America took England around his room showing off all the accomplishments he’d achieved since he’d last seen his sovereign. America was explaining how he’d taken down the deer when he noticed England staring at a pile of clothes lying on the ground next to his childhood growth chart. He broke off his tale to explain.
“Uh yeah, sorry about the mess. I was expecting anyone.”
England shook his head eyes still riveted on the clothes.
“Yes what is that about? I wrote to you several times expressing my desire and later decision to voyage back to the New World. There was never a response from you!”
America gave a lopsided grin and explained, “well I don’t check my mail too often so...”
“Too often? I wrote over a period of months America!” England scolded, “Months! You need to be more responsible! It’s a good thing I’m back...”
America sighed as he listened to England continue to rant. Some things didn’t change.
“Yeah, yeah I got it Artie. Read the mail.”
England grumbled for a bit.
With a great pull America swung the door open, “Howdy!” he greeted the person behind the door. A tower of boxes was wobbling about, “Finally!” a clipped British voice exclaimed. America did a double take because the voice sounded eerily like his old caretaker, England. While he was thinking the packages were shoved into America’s hands as the stranger pushed his way in in.
“Uh hey man,” America said, “I didn’t order anything. You’ve got the wrong place...” He placed the boxes down and turned to face the, likely dirty and tired, traveler.
A short blond man was brushing down the front of his suit. He wasn’t what America was expecting at all. His hands were wrapped in white gloves. He was wearing shiny black dress shoes. He looked like he should be walking down the road in a grand city in Europe rather the up and coming town of Boston.
He looked up at America with one big, bushy eyebrow raised, “I was expecting a little bit more of a welcome than that.”
Green eyes, picnics by the water, large hands, bed time stories, burnt food, magic, ships sailing away... America’s brain short circuited.
“England?”
“America?” England gasped, “You’ve grown so big!”
America laughed, but he was shaken at how small how old caretaker appeared. In his memories England was like a tree. When he picked America up it felt like he was flying.
“Yeah, ugh I’ve hit a few growth spurts since you left,” America shuffled awkwardly. Warm hands ran up his arms. America laughed and batted at them.
“I’ve never seen a nation grow so fast before,” England breathed.
America smiled. He knew their kind took longer to grow but he hadn’t seen anyone in so long he’d put it out of his mind.
“It’s cause I’m special,” America grinned the realization that England was home finally hitting him.
“I’m so glad your back!” America said pulling the other nation into a bear hug.
“America! Let me go! This is entirely improper from a gentlemen.”
America ignored him and pulled on his hand.
“Come on! I want to show you my room!” Alfred exclaimed, “I’ve started making my own furniture!”
He bounded up the stairs pulling a limp England behind him.
“Oh and I’ve also got some really awesome heads for you to see!”
“You hunt?” came the dazed reply from England.
“One of the deer has 14 points!”
America took England around his room showing off all the accomplishments he’d achieved since he’d last seen his sovereign. America was explaining how he’d taken down the deer when he noticed England staring at a pile of clothes lying on the ground next to his childhood growth chart. He broke off his tale to explain.
“Uh yeah, sorry about the mess. I was expecting anyone.”
England shook his head eyes still riveted on the clothes.
“Yes what is that about? I wrote to you several times expressing my desire and later decision to voyage back to the New World. There was never a response from you!”
America gave a lopsided grin and explained, “well I don’t check my mail too often so...”
“Too often? I wrote over a period of months America!” England scolded, “Months! You need to be more responsible! It’s a good thing I’m back...”
America sighed as he listened to England continue to rant. Some things didn’t change.
“Yeah, yeah I got it Artie. Read the mail.”
England grumbled for a bit.
America sighed he didn’t want England to be upset with him already. He thought he’d be proud of all the great things America had accomplished on his own, but instead he was just going on about the things he didn’t do right.
“Right well it’s gotten late. You really should be heading to bed America.”
The teen looked out the window. The last rays of the sun had just disappeared. America hadn’t gone to bed so early in years.
“That’s ok. Why don’t I help you bring you things upstairs?” The blond colony suggested.
“Thank you poppet, but I’ve got it.” England made shooing motions to him, “Go on and get ready for bed. I’ll be in soon to say good night.”
“England, really, I’m not tired.”
“It’s not up for discussion. It’s bedtime for colonies. Go on.”
America glared as he stomped out of the room. He’d go along with it for tonight since his brother had just gotten home, but tomorrow they’d have to talk. He wasn’t a kid any more and England had to realize that.
America stopped in the kitchen to grab a glass of water and his pcards before he headed upstairs. On his way upstairs he passed England and smiled. It was nice having someone in the house again.
“Do you really think you should be drinking that?”
“What?”
“Well I’d hate to have to do the washing the very first morning I’m home.”
America blushed when he realized that England was talking about the bed wetting problem he use to have as a kid.
“No, no,” he said, “I’ve grown out of that. It doesn’t happen anymore.”
“Are you sure?” England replied. America nodded rapidly his face flaming.
“Still better safe than sorry,” England said as he took the glass from America’s hand. America bit his tongue. He didn’t want to get into a fight the very first night England was home, but god was he making it difficult.
The teen nodded and headed into his room to change. He set the cards down on the bedside table and scrubbed at his face. He headed over to draw the curtains closed and found himself staring out at the pink glow lingering on the horizon.
It was a beautiful evening. If England hadn’t returned home he may have gone over to visit Charles or to watch the gamblers play in the pub. Whatever it would have been it most definitely wouldn’t have been going to sleep. America sighed. It was just one night, he could talk to England tomorrow. Besides maybe it’d be nice to get some extra sleep.
America turned to his dresser draws and pulled off his shirt. He was in the middle of changing when the door opened.
“Oh! Excuse me,” England stammered as he closed his eyes, “I assumed that you would be done.”
America pulled the shirt on over his head.
“It’s alright you can come in. It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before,” America laughed.
The older nation tentatively meandered into the room before perching himself on the side of America’s bed. The teen slipped under the covers and smiled at England. He’d missed having England tell him stories for years. It’d be nice to have that back for a night.
“Which story would you like tonight?”
America thought back. Which story had he forgotten fastest?
“Jack and the Bean Stalk,” he said after a moment. That story had escaped him faster than the others. He remembered all the way until Jack climbed to the top of the bean stalk but after that he drew a blank. He’d asked around the village but no one’s version felt right.
England smiled, “that’s a favorite of mine.”
“Fee, fi, fo, fum...” England drawled in a deep voice and America tried not to grin too wide. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but he’d really missed this. Besides, he thought as he snuggled down in bed, it’s not like anyone was around to see this.
OC spotlight; after the Arthur over thinking things.
“My friend is crazy.” Alex lamented, drying off another porcelain mug.
The part-time barista grumbled under his breath for the umpteenth time about his sometimes-scary British companion. “AND I told him not to drink strong tea in the morning because he gets all pompous! Oh! And those big words he uses!”
Alex sighed, stacking the cup on the ‘dry’ pile, and grabbing another. He turned to his co-worker and cocked his head.
“You know Arthur. Geez! I mean GEEZ! I mean he’s cool and crap, but ew, I would never want him in that way. No. No, no, no.”
The barista’s rag squeaked as he rubbed it against the white mug. His co-worker nodded, but Alex wasn’t sure if he had actually been paying any attention.
“How do you manage so well with your roommate? BERWALD!”
Said co-worker just shrugged and looked down on the shorter male.
“I don’t know; people just always get along with me.” Berwald’s baritone voice sighed.
Alex shivered and realized then and there, why he never liked to complain to his co-workers.
“My friend is crazy.” Alex lamented, drying off another porcelain mug.
The part-time barista grumbled under his breath for the umpteenth time about his sometimes-scary British companion. “AND I told him not to drink strong tea in the morning because he gets all pompous! Oh! And those big words he uses!”
Alex sighed, stacking the cup on the ‘dry’ pile, and grabbing another. He turned to his co-worker and cocked his head.
“You know Arthur. Geez! I mean GEEZ! I mean he’s cool and crap, but ew, I would never want him in that way. No. No, no, no.”
The barista’s rag squeaked as he rubbed it against the white mug. His co-worker nodded, but Alex wasn’t sure if he had actually been paying any attention.
“How do you manage so well with your roommate? BERWALD!”
Said co-worker just shrugged and looked down on the shorter male.
“I don’t know; people just always get along with me.” Berwald’s baritone voice sighed.
Alex shivered and realized then and there, why he never liked to complain to his co-workers.
FFW
The King of Spades adjusted his jacket as he sauntered into the kitchen, a toothpick between his teeth. Maids that swarmed the general area, bowed in his presence, and scurried out because there was only one thing the King needed right now: his Queen.
Something inside had repeatedly convinced the King that his beautiful, youthful Queen was distancing himself away. Alfred would talk normally, but he became less needy of the King, and kept to himself outside the bedroom, or away from diplomatic leaders. Alfred started presenting himself the way a political Queen would, and seemed to have the public fooled that everything was good. But it wasn’t right?
Surely, one’s own husband could tell.
Alfred had his head ducked down, hands at the sink. From Arthur’s point of view, it looked like he was trying to fill a glass of water, or wash something. It was obvious the queen failed to realize that the room was otherwise empty, because Arthur’s ears piqued when he heard hacking and groaning, something the Queen practically kept a secret if it was not his first time sounding uncomfortable. Arthur rushed to his Queen’s side, gripping onto Alfred’s side.
“Oh, oh, hello,” Alfred whispered.
Arthur’s predictions had been right- Alfred had been filling a glass of water.
“Is something wrong, my dear?” Arthur asked. He didn’t know what drove him to do so, but he suddenly felt very protective of Alfred. He wanted to take the young Queen off to bed to nurture back to full health if there was something wrong, and he wanted all the servants to attend to his every need.
He felt like there was something wrong, like he needed to give his Queen all he could-
Hands jimmied the body out of Arthur’s grasp. Alfred took a gulp of water and coughed out roughly. He locked eyes with Arthur’s, and something in that wash of blue was a tint of fibbing. Arthur was able to detect that.
“Something is the matter; as King I demand-“
“When will you quit that?! I get you’re the King, but I just-UGH!” Alfred snapped, covering his eyes.
When? When did Arthur feel so attached to his Queen? Just now it almost tore the King of Spades to see his husband bolt out of the room. Arthur never cared before, so what was this?
“Alfred, wait-“
“NO!” Alfred roared. A few maids contemplated stopping, him, but Alfred was Queen after all, giving him some leverage to do as he pleased.
As soon as the door slammed, Arthur punched the wall.
The King of Spades adjusted his jacket as he sauntered into the kitchen, a toothpick between his teeth. Maids that swarmed the general area, bowed in his presence, and scurried out because there was only one thing the King needed right now: his Queen.
Something inside had repeatedly convinced the King that his beautiful, youthful Queen was distancing himself away. Alfred would talk normally, but he became less needy of the King, and kept to himself outside the bedroom, or away from diplomatic leaders. Alfred started presenting himself the way a political Queen would, and seemed to have the public fooled that everything was good. But it wasn’t right?
Surely, one’s own husband could tell.
Alfred had his head ducked down, hands at the sink. From Arthur’s point of view, it looked like he was trying to fill a glass of water, or wash something. It was obvious the queen failed to realize that the room was otherwise empty, because Arthur’s ears piqued when he heard hacking and groaning, something the Queen practically kept a secret if it was not his first time sounding uncomfortable. Arthur rushed to his Queen’s side, gripping onto Alfred’s side.
“Oh, oh, hello,” Alfred whispered.
Arthur’s predictions had been right- Alfred had been filling a glass of water.
“Is something wrong, my dear?” Arthur asked. He didn’t know what drove him to do so, but he suddenly felt very protective of Alfred. He wanted to take the young Queen off to bed to nurture back to full health if there was something wrong, and he wanted all the servants to attend to his every need.
He felt like there was something wrong, like he needed to give his Queen all he could-
Hands jimmied the body out of Arthur’s grasp. Alfred took a gulp of water and coughed out roughly. He locked eyes with Arthur’s, and something in that wash of blue was a tint of fibbing. Arthur was able to detect that.
“Something is the matter; as King I demand-“
“When will you quit that?! I get you’re the King, but I just-UGH!” Alfred snapped, covering his eyes.
When? When did Arthur feel so attached to his Queen? Just now it almost tore the King of Spades to see his husband bolt out of the room. Arthur never cared before, so what was this?
“Alfred, wait-“
“NO!” Alfred roared. A few maids contemplated stopping, him, but Alfred was Queen after all, giving him some leverage to do as he pleased.
As soon as the door slammed, Arthur punched the wall.
My mom always told me not to wed at such a young age, you know? He told me that I was bound to regret it because I’m rash, and violent and too proud.
He basically made me follow through in marrying Arthur. I had my head in the clouds, and now I should have listened. I don’t know if I feel anything for Arthur anymore…and I married a King.
Stop it, I know you’re a king, too, but I barely knew Arthur. He was so persuasive, and he can be so sweet when he wants to…I just, why…Why?
I always resented being the younger one, and also possessing such a degrading feature in my physique. I wanted the same things my brother had; what my brother has. I mean, I like the idea of family, but growing up was hard because I had to deal with similar issues that the girls did.
Around him, I never feel equal...I haven't know him long enough to ignore that maybe I'm his Queen because-
You’ve known me for so long…why, why, why didn’t you say anything?
I could have avoided this whole thing…
Love him?
Maybe somewhere in me… I did say he can be the sweetest person ever at time…
But he’s cryptic, and selfish, and the freaking King of Spades. What if he’s secretive and he just-
No, I think it’s possible…I want to believe he cares for me, but why does he always-“
A nurse filed out of the Oxenstierna’s guest room, nodding at the doctor to give the results to the owners of the home.
Berwald steadied Tino’s shaking, and gestured for the nurse to begin.
- -
It had been a complete freak accident.
No one expected to see a dashing blonde sobbing and running through the town, so fast that the citizens barely recognized the rich velvet coat, or the iconic blue eyes. They didn’t notice him gripping onto the pit of his stomach if it meant the world to him.
And they most certainly did not realize it until a carriage ran and had the poor blonde unconscious.
Flocks of citizens surrounded the young man, whose right hand was still placed at the bottom of his stomach. They gasped in horror at the gold chain around his neck, and the interlocking Spade and Diamond bracelet that only one family in the land possessed.
He was not only an Oxenstierna son.
He was the Queen of Spades.
As fast as they could, the unloaded carriages to escort the Queen to the nearest location that would be the least harmful: the Oxenstierna manor.
They practically dropped the Queen at the doorstep and apologized profusely. No one knew the name of the coach who had led to the running-into of the Queen, but all that mattered was that doctors had been alerted. Berwald had frozen on the spot to see his youngest son in such a state, and Tino had nearly fainted.
- -
“WILL MY SON BE OKAY?” Tino hollered, surprising both Berwald and the nurse at his loud voice. But Tino cared too much for his son, and if anything was wrong, no one would hear the end of it.
The nurse tried calming Tino down and shuffled some papers.
“Well, he should recover within hours; minor concussion…
But…”
“WHAT.” Berwald boomed.
Matthew stepped aside to calm his parents. “Don’t scare the messenger.”
The nurse mumbled a thank you, and thrust a sheet from the doctor.
It appears His Majesty, the Queen of Spades
Is with Child, the future heir of the Spades kingdom.
Again. Sorry for the inconsistent timeline. Aren't you all annoyed I jsut dropped this bomb? </small?
Your writing is really nice. The anachronisms are a little difficult to absorb, though.
I love that America is simultaneously hating and enjoying being treated like a child.
I love that America is simultaneously hating and enjoying being treated like a child.
The 'b' section was a bit confusing.
Things are getting more painful.
Things are getting more painful.
Didn't canon cover England coming back to find America grown? Why rewrite it? Good story anyway.
Jake/Jacob = Molossia
Jacob never let his mask down. It was a scowl, a look far too sharp and angry for his soft brown eyes. As the other slaves moved about their business, he moved about his, determined to stick to himself and get his own jobs done without a fuss.
He worked in the garden. He liked that well enough; it was nice being able to breathe, and he loved plants. Something about digging in the dirt faintly revived a happier time in his mind.
Of course, he hadn’t always been a slave; or at least, he hadn’t always felt like a slave. Technically, he’d been owned from day one of his life, but his master had treated him like one of his own children; he’d been allowed to read and write, he’d been allowed to have friends and eat good food and just generally be happy.
That had ended when the good master had died. That was when his numerous affairs came to light, and his wife was put into a state of great grief; she decided on selling everything, and starting anew somewhere else.
His master’s children had begged to keep him, to at least keep ‘poor Jacob’ with them, but the wife had snarled something about him being ‘one of his damn bastards’ and he’d never seen them again.
When he was sold to a new master, that was when the mask came on.
Jacob had been a nice, kind person before coming to this place. He’d been the sort of person who would offer compliments and talk if a person looked lonely.
Now he knew better. He kept his mouth shut, except to curse out anyone who got too close, and to answer with ‘Yes sir’ and ‘Yes ma’am.’ He didn’t dare to hope that he would go from the menial labor in the garden back to his good life; he was smart enough to know that was long gone.
Today, he was weeding around the topiary bushes near the front of the house. It was hot, and he was sweating significantly; he focused solely on clearing the patch, however, to the point that he barely noticed the shadow that fell over him.
“Hi.”
“Fucking hell!” Jacob started, looking sharply behind him. He put on a huge scowl when he saw who it was; he may not have recognized him, but anyone who looked that happy deserved a scowl.
The golden-haired man laughed, tilting his hat back on his head. “You must startle easily, sorry. Um, I was just assigned to work the gardens; mind showing me where to start?”
“Yes, I fucking do.” Jacob gave him the middle finger and turned back to his weeding. Let him figure it out on his own; it wasn’t his job to babysit.
“I don’t think you get it; I’m new here. Just won from a card game, apparently.” There was silence for a moment. “My name’s Alfred. I just need a little bit of help; just point me in the direction of the shed, and I’m sure I’ll know what to do!”
Jacob pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “It’s there. Now fucking leave me alone!”
A hand landed on his shoulder. Jacob froze, breath trapped in his lungs, eyes wide, though Alfred couldn’t see that.
“Thanks, bud!” And the hand was gone, as quickly as it had been there.
Jacob cursed under his breath, and swiped at his eyes, though he told himself it was because sweat was getting in them. He knew the real reason, and he hated Alfred all the more for piercing his personal bubble.
Everyone else knew not to touch him. No one else wanted to.
But god, of course the new guy would want to put his hands all over him. Jacob was no longer sweating, a chill in his stomach.
Just focus, he told himself. Just get that weed, and then the next one, and then the next…
It worked until he ran out of weeds.
Jacob never let his mask down. It was a scowl, a look far too sharp and angry for his soft brown eyes. As the other slaves moved about their business, he moved about his, determined to stick to himself and get his own jobs done without a fuss.
He worked in the garden. He liked that well enough; it was nice being able to breathe, and he loved plants. Something about digging in the dirt faintly revived a happier time in his mind.
Of course, he hadn’t always been a slave; or at least, he hadn’t always felt like a slave. Technically, he’d been owned from day one of his life, but his master had treated him like one of his own children; he’d been allowed to read and write, he’d been allowed to have friends and eat good food and just generally be happy.
That had ended when the good master had died. That was when his numerous affairs came to light, and his wife was put into a state of great grief; she decided on selling everything, and starting anew somewhere else.
His master’s children had begged to keep him, to at least keep ‘poor Jacob’ with them, but the wife had snarled something about him being ‘one of his damn bastards’ and he’d never seen them again.
When he was sold to a new master, that was when the mask came on.
Jacob had been a nice, kind person before coming to this place. He’d been the sort of person who would offer compliments and talk if a person looked lonely.
Now he knew better. He kept his mouth shut, except to curse out anyone who got too close, and to answer with ‘Yes sir’ and ‘Yes ma’am.’ He didn’t dare to hope that he would go from the menial labor in the garden back to his good life; he was smart enough to know that was long gone.
Today, he was weeding around the topiary bushes near the front of the house. It was hot, and he was sweating significantly; he focused solely on clearing the patch, however, to the point that he barely noticed the shadow that fell over him.
“Hi.”
“Fucking hell!” Jacob started, looking sharply behind him. He put on a huge scowl when he saw who it was; he may not have recognized him, but anyone who looked that happy deserved a scowl.
The golden-haired man laughed, tilting his hat back on his head. “You must startle easily, sorry. Um, I was just assigned to work the gardens; mind showing me where to start?”
“Yes, I fucking do.” Jacob gave him the middle finger and turned back to his weeding. Let him figure it out on his own; it wasn’t his job to babysit.
“I don’t think you get it; I’m new here. Just won from a card game, apparently.” There was silence for a moment. “My name’s Alfred. I just need a little bit of help; just point me in the direction of the shed, and I’m sure I’ll know what to do!”
Jacob pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “It’s there. Now fucking leave me alone!”
A hand landed on his shoulder. Jacob froze, breath trapped in his lungs, eyes wide, though Alfred couldn’t see that.
“Thanks, bud!” And the hand was gone, as quickly as it had been there.
Jacob cursed under his breath, and swiped at his eyes, though he told himself it was because sweat was getting in them. He knew the real reason, and he hated Alfred all the more for piercing his personal bubble.
Everyone else knew not to touch him. No one else wanted to.
But god, of course the new guy would want to put his hands all over him. Jacob was no longer sweating, a chill in his stomach.
Just focus, he told himself. Just get that weed, and then the next one, and then the next…
It worked until he ran out of weeds.
This is awesome! I'm not the OP, but I think you've pretty much followed the request to the letter, as well as getting in the spirit of things!
Very lovely, too, good opening. Description is decent. What you've done best is get the situation well written out without too many words, to be short, you're concise.
And characterization is spot on! I would practically think this was a text version of one of the comics if I didn't know better.
I can't wait to see more!
Very lovely, too, good opening. Description is decent. What you've done best is get the situation well written out without too many words, to be short, you're concise.
And characterization is spot on! I would practically think this was a text version of one of the comics if I didn't know better.
I can't wait to see more!
Anon, this looks really good! I like how you've used Molossia's canon personality -- nice until he's around other people -- and adapted it into this AU.
Oh damn, I almost missed this fic! I'm so glad I checked the second to last page of the fill list once more before moving on to the latest! I think this is my new favourite on going fill now! There are a couple of other great ones I'm following but this one wins for the bittersweet cuteness and especially the awesome way you write the ensemble cast. I absolutely love it! You give all the characters a spot and you write even the ones I usually don't care or read about so interestingly that I get invested in every single one of them!
And Liech! I have to admit I usually find her boring but here I suddenly found myself already loving her. The way she's both smart AND sweet at the same time and has the right mix of realism and pragmatism and idealism at the same time. I love how you made her one of the adults, it's probably the first time I've seen that in an AU with kids. I love her backstory too. I'm curious to see if she'll tell anyone, or if they'll maybe guess.
I love the sense of the period, all the little things. Even the casual racism. There's something... IDK, I almost want to say adorable about it when it's clearly not mean spirited but born out of ignorance. And it makes the characters more direct about the issues. Same with the attitudes to crossdressing, as much as it breaks my heart. Poor, poor Feliks.
I do love how you took the canon elements and used them in the context. It fits so well.
I wonder if Feli is actually having developmental issues, or if he's just a bit slow. It's interesting, I've never thought about it before but you could really interpret it that way from canon too... Although on the other hand he's shown talented at artistic areas... So it could be just that he's an airhead. Here it could also be some kind of reaction to trauma, I think. But obviously most of this would be lost on the 1910's characters.
Lovino... Oh Lovino, I can so see him as an orphan who's lived on the streets. And all the issues shown through him are so heartbreakingly real. And of course the kids would be cruel... Even kids far better off are cruel.
I really appreciate how you deal with Gilbert and his albinism. Far too often it's pretty much ignored in fics, even ones that explicitly call it albinism, without mentioning the problems associated with it and how much it would stand out in real life, especially in older times when people didn't hear about rare conditions so much. Erzsébet's confusion is funny and so true.
I'm not at all surprised about Erika getting Kiku's ethnicity wrong, there are so much more Chinese immigrants and all. Back then probably even more so. And having trouble with Sadiq's too. And I do love her noticing how similar Mikkel and Sadiq are while at the same time pointing out their different looks. And how How she's surprised by the lack of accent.
Man the boys really are so real... I can easily imagine them as real kids.
Yeah... I probably could go on and on but let's leave it at that. x) I really hope you'll write a lot more of this and I can't wait!
And Liech! I have to admit I usually find her boring but here I suddenly found myself already loving her. The way she's both smart AND sweet at the same time and has the right mix of realism and pragmatism and idealism at the same time. I love how you made her one of the adults, it's probably the first time I've seen that in an AU with kids. I love her backstory too. I'm curious to see if she'll tell anyone, or if they'll maybe guess.
I love the sense of the period, all the little things. Even the casual racism. There's something... IDK, I almost want to say adorable about it when it's clearly not mean spirited but born out of ignorance. And it makes the characters more direct about the issues. Same with the attitudes to crossdressing, as much as it breaks my heart. Poor, poor Feliks.
I do love how you took the canon elements and used them in the context. It fits so well.
I wonder if Feli is actually having developmental issues, or if he's just a bit slow. It's interesting, I've never thought about it before but you could really interpret it that way from canon too... Although on the other hand he's shown talented at artistic areas... So it could be just that he's an airhead. Here it could also be some kind of reaction to trauma, I think. But obviously most of this would be lost on the 1910's characters.
Lovino... Oh Lovino, I can so see him as an orphan who's lived on the streets. And all the issues shown through him are so heartbreakingly real. And of course the kids would be cruel... Even kids far better off are cruel.
I really appreciate how you deal with Gilbert and his albinism. Far too often it's pretty much ignored in fics, even ones that explicitly call it albinism, without mentioning the problems associated with it and how much it would stand out in real life, especially in older times when people didn't hear about rare conditions so much. Erzsébet's confusion is funny and so true.
I'm not at all surprised about Erika getting Kiku's ethnicity wrong, there are so much more Chinese immigrants and all. Back then probably even more so. And having trouble with Sadiq's too. And I do love her noticing how similar Mikkel and Sadiq are while at the same time pointing out their different looks. And how How she's surprised by the lack of accent.
Man the boys really are so real... I can easily imagine them as real kids.
Yeah... I probably could go on and on but let's leave it at that. x) I really hope you'll write a lot more of this and I can't wait!
Oh and I love the specific mention of how Gilbert is such a careless kid despite all his troubles. <3 It's just so him. And the way the women obviously care about the kids!
Hi!
England did come back to find America grown... did I not make that clear? Ah, sorry! He's a teenager here. He's not fully grown like in canon because the OP asked for it this way. (That's why I'm writing it to begin with :D)
Thanks for the review!
England did come back to find America grown... did I not make that clear? Ah, sorry! He's a teenager here. He's not fully grown like in canon because the OP asked for it this way. (That's why I'm writing it to begin with :D)
Thanks for the review!
I'll make note of that! I'm not really a period writer (like at all) but it wouldn't work in any other time but the 1600s. But I'll try to make them easier to swallow :)
Thanks!
Thanks!
Hurray! I'm so glad you liked it! Characterization is something that I worried about so to hear you say that makes me beyond thrilled!! (I feel like I need to go back and re-read it now to see for myself :D ) Thanks for taking the time to leave a review!
Ugh meant the 1700s. Could you give any examples so I can try to correct it for future sections?
This is fantastic so far! I love the way you write Jacob. He seems perfectly in tune with canon. I love this!
Re: Netherlands/Scotland = Netherlands has a thing for redheads
(Anonymous) 2013-03-06 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)Does OP mind if Scotland has a beard? Just a light one? I'M considering an artfill but I just can't imagine this character without a beard... Oh, and if you don't like artfills, that's ok, too ;) (if you do, some more descriptions on how you imagine Scottie would be nice because if I don't get some I'll just throw all of my headcanons on him xD)
The sun’s rays broke the horizon and England strolled into America’s room.
“Good morning,” England greeted the quiet room. He looked about for the younger nation,
“America?”
The Brit’s glanced about the room, “America?”
A moan came from the lump on the bed. England had assumed it was just blankets, but now that he was looking closer he could see the tall outline of his colony laying in bed. His eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. America had always been an early riser.
“Come on America,” England smirked, pulling at the covers, “it’s time to greet the day.”
“Shaddup,” America murmured pushing his face deeper into the pillow. England growled.
A tan arm snaked out from under the covers. Groggily the owner of the arm picked up a wooden statue next to his bed and hurled it at the noise. England was barely able to get out of the way in time. The wooden horse collided with a thunk on the other side of the room.
“I’m sleepin’,” America mumbled.
“Not after that you’re not!” England said as he ripped back the covers.
“Go ‘way John,” Alfred said face down in the mattress.
“America!” England shouted.
America scrambled to sit up, “England?” He rubbed at his eyes, “Shit! Sorry, I forgot you were here!”
“How uncouth you’ve become in my absence! Swearing and throwing things around like a street urchin!” The Empire continued lecturing as he pulled America from his bed. The two made their way down to the kitchen were America was greeted with a plate of burnt breakfast.
“It’s cold,” America said as he choked down a piece of scorched bacon.
“Well if you’d gotten up when I’d first called you it would have been warm.”
America pouted but forced the rest of the meal down.
“What do you think, should we go down to the town and do something fun today?”
America looked up. Maybe he could show England the tavern where he’d been hanging out recently.
“Sure,” America replied smiling, “That’d be fun. I can show you the tavern and forge and...” America gushed about all the different places he’d been and things he’d been doing. England smiled, glad to be back.
“Good morning,” England greeted the quiet room. He looked about for the younger nation,
“America?”
The Brit’s glanced about the room, “America?”
A moan came from the lump on the bed. England had assumed it was just blankets, but now that he was looking closer he could see the tall outline of his colony laying in bed. His eyebrows disappeared under his fringe. America had always been an early riser.
“Come on America,” England smirked, pulling at the covers, “it’s time to greet the day.”
“Shaddup,” America murmured pushing his face deeper into the pillow. England growled.
A tan arm snaked out from under the covers. Groggily the owner of the arm picked up a wooden statue next to his bed and hurled it at the noise. England was barely able to get out of the way in time. The wooden horse collided with a thunk on the other side of the room.
“I’m sleepin’,” America mumbled.
“Not after that you’re not!” England said as he ripped back the covers.
“Go ‘way John,” Alfred said face down in the mattress.
“America!” England shouted.
America scrambled to sit up, “England?” He rubbed at his eyes, “Shit! Sorry, I forgot you were here!”
“How uncouth you’ve become in my absence! Swearing and throwing things around like a street urchin!” The Empire continued lecturing as he pulled America from his bed. The two made their way down to the kitchen were America was greeted with a plate of burnt breakfast.
“It’s cold,” America said as he choked down a piece of scorched bacon.
“Well if you’d gotten up when I’d first called you it would have been warm.”
America pouted but forced the rest of the meal down.
“What do you think, should we go down to the town and do something fun today?”
America looked up. Maybe he could show England the tavern where he’d been hanging out recently.
“Sure,” America replied smiling, “That’d be fun. I can show you the tavern and forge and...” America gushed about all the different places he’d been and things he’d been doing. England smiled, glad to be back.
America and England walked side by side into the town center. A horse quickly rode up along side them sending up a cloud of dust. When the dust settled the rider had dismounted and was pulling out a ream of paper bound in a red ribbon with a wax seal.
“Sir Arthur, might I beg a moment of you time?” The rider who was wearing the crown’s uniform asked.
“Of course, Corporal,” England smiled, “what are you in need of?”
The officer was quick to explain, “Military strategies from Governor Sir William Phips in relations to the Indian devils raiding the outskirts of town. Sir.”
England sighed but nodded. He turned to Alfred who had watched the exchange with keen eyes. America was meant to be out on a peace talk as a translator in two days so he was curious about what was being said.
“Why don’t you go play while the grown ups talk.”
America’s jaw loosened.
“Run along,” England said while shooing America towards the commons. America stood slack jawed as England turned about to review the plans, intentionally excluding America from the conversation.
Alfred stormed over to fence spitting curses. He was not some snot nosed school boy who could be dismissed. He was nearly an adult! He should be able to make decisions for himself about his people. It’s not like he hadn’t been doing it before England showed up! America kicked at the ground.
Grazing dairy cows meandered along the commons. One wandered over to the fuming youth. Frustrated he stuck a hand out and let the creature sniff at him. He sighed and rubbed the cow’s nose. How could he make England treat him like an adult?
“Sir Arthur, might I beg a moment of you time?” The rider who was wearing the crown’s uniform asked.
“Of course, Corporal,” England smiled, “what are you in need of?”
The officer was quick to explain, “Military strategies from Governor Sir William Phips in relations to the Indian devils raiding the outskirts of town. Sir.”
England sighed but nodded. He turned to Alfred who had watched the exchange with keen eyes. America was meant to be out on a peace talk as a translator in two days so he was curious about what was being said.
“Why don’t you go play while the grown ups talk.”
America’s jaw loosened.
“Run along,” England said while shooing America towards the commons. America stood slack jawed as England turned about to review the plans, intentionally excluding America from the conversation.
Alfred stormed over to fence spitting curses. He was not some snot nosed school boy who could be dismissed. He was nearly an adult! He should be able to make decisions for himself about his people. It’s not like he hadn’t been doing it before England showed up! America kicked at the ground.
Grazing dairy cows meandered along the commons. One wandered over to the fuming youth. Frustrated he stuck a hand out and let the creature sniff at him. He sighed and rubbed the cow’s nose. How could he make England treat him like an adult?
oh my! I was so happy to see this updated! Yay, just yay! I'm happy we got to see this side of Arthur, I love it. Im so exicted to see the next update because evil cliffy!!
Just curious is peter going be arthur and alfred son?
Just curious is peter going be arthur and alfred son?
OH. I must have misread the request. LOL, now I feel stupid.
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