The Winged

chapter four

“I'm so glad everyone made it here alright.” The UK shot a practiced smile to the seated countries as he spoke. “I believe in time we’re all meeting for a global meal here in the castle later this month. The UN thought it would be better if we just met up with our groups for the first few meals, but we’re all rather well acquainted, are we not?” 

Silence. Ah, well, its not like decent political relationships really meant well for personal relationships.

“Once you’re all done with dinner, grab a pamphlet on your way out, it will tell you more about our month here.”

Seating Arrangement:

    NZ   Aussie Germany US Japan
|                                                       |
|                                                       |
  China Russia Canada UK France

Britain almost felt himself sag as he was met with more silence, and slowly the room filled with silverware clacking and scraping awkwardly against ceramic plates as the table fell into a nervous silence.

“You did well darling.” His wife assured quietly. “Give it time.” and she had a point. For what else could he do?

Time was not mending things quickly enough. For each country had finished their plate and sat in utter stillness. Britain could only find optimism in the fact there hadn’t been a fight. His eldest son eyed Japan, clearly wanting to be the first to leave, and not knowing his forced friend's consequence if he did.

In a second, his chair was being pushed out of the way. Eyeing everything at the table as though it had all grown teeth, before swiftly walking away.

Japan, took a slow sip of her tea. “Excuse me please.” She said, rising, and with a quick bow, she was after him. Of course not after retrieving two pamphlets.

And with the two’s absence, others trickled away from the table. New Zealand and Australia being the first to follow their lead and Germany the last. “Good night France, Britain.” he bid them as they were left alone in the empty room. 

“It could’ve been worse.” France teased lightly. Wrapping a thin hand around his forearm as she pressed into his side.

“We’ve got the worst group.” The UK grumbled.

“Bah, half of the group is our children, my amour.” She swatted him “We can handle our own enfants can we not?”

“We can at least handle Canada and New Zealand darling, but Australia and America? I doubt it. They’re going to kill us, Australia by accident releasing some horror onto us in our sleep, while America is simply going to strangle us for helping force him here.”

“Canada did tell us A names where red flags.”

“Wasn’t that J names?”

“Probably both my mon amour.”

“France.. I worry.” Britain sighed. Rubbing his palm against his face.

Standing the striped country pulled him from his chair “About how we’ve cursed our children with A names?” She grinned, tugging him along the hallways so they could make it back to their quarters.

“I'm serious. We’ve both done so much.. We could rebuild our relationship with our three youngest but.. What if he hates us until death?”

“Aren’t the relationships we’ve salvaged enough?”

No.

The difference between them, France was satisfied with what she had. Her former rival, now her husband, has close personal relations with the majority of her children. How could she not be? Why wasn’t he?

“I want him to like us.. Me.”

Where did this want start though? For most of his children's life he had little interest in being close with them. He’d even gone as far as to nearly kill America. He regretted that day a lot.

Perhaps that’s where it started. When he was far from the foriegn land, and with a slow glance to his hands he’d realise with a sudden twist of horror that it was his son's blood that stained his gloves. A vivid memory of a young face twisted into utter terror. Yet still, no matter how hard he tried to remember, he could never dissect the color of his eyes.

“He does.” France tried to soothe, stripping off her shoes.

Britain sighed and pinched his nose. “He doesn’t like anyone.” And to this he heard no disagreement.

“He trades with us.” She reasoned, acting as if that was enough, and who was he to ruin that fantasy of hers? Who was he to introduce to her the painful ache of failed of parenthood? It hurt, sometimes, he wished she’d feel the same way. Understand why he scrambled so hard and thought about it so often, but he supposed, for her sake. She shouldn’t.

So for her, he caved “Alright love.”