Secret States

Blackmail Doesn't Work

Wales's POV
"England! Lloegr! Can I talk to you?" I asked, rushing over to my cousin. I heard England sigh as he turned, slipping his phone into his pocket.

'What do you want, Wales?' He asked. I smiled, and I saw his eyes widen. Glad to see he still remembered what I had on him.

"Scotty thinks that you know something about that man." I said, watching his reaction carefully, "And so do I."

England remained quiet as usual, his face blank.

"So why do you know who he is, and what do you know about him? America isn't one who willingly talks to you. Not that most of us will. You aren't exactly a fun conversation partner, being who you are." I said, not being able to help myself from slipping in the insult.

If England had the ability to, I knew he would have been scowling, as his eyes glared at me with the same hatred they always had.

"Glaring isn't an answer Lloegr. I want to know what you know, as you obviously know more than the rest of us." I said. England shook his head.

"What does that mean?" I asked, not exactly sure what he was saying 'no' too.

'It means I'm not saying anything.' England signed. I snorted at that, before coughing, as snorting always seemed to make me do that. I blame the fire breathing. England watched me with a raised eyebrow.

"Lloegr, you don't say most things that's not exactly a new thing." I rasped out through the cough, before clearing my throat.

'You know what I meant.' England signed with an exasperated look.

"I do. So why are you keeping secrets? I know there is almost no love between you and America, so why are you keeping his secrets?" I asked, tapping my claws on the scales that decorated my arms.

'Maybe it's not just America who has commanded me to keep this a secret.' England signed cryptically.

Well there's a twist. That probably means others are involved in this coverup, in this conspiracy. I wonder who else was involved. It's not like America and England are beloved people, so who else is helping them?

Well, helping America. If someone 'commanded' England to keep it a secret, they probably weren't friends of England.

But friends of America who had not only threatened, but commanded England around? Who could that be?

I would have to do some digging. I'm sure one of my sources knew something.

But before I turned to them, I would turn to England.

"Well then Lloegr, I have a question for you. How would you like everyone to know about that....incident from 1343?" I asked. That incident always made England crack. He was so desperate to kept that incident buried, it was almost pathetic.

If he still kept things secret after that, then something was seriously wrong with him.

No sane man would let that story be public.

England looked scared for a second, the same expression he always had when that incident was mentioned. But then, unexpectedly, his face changed to resignation, and he sighed softly. He looked downtrodden, and upset.

"Lloegr?" I asked, unnerved by this. I tried not to let the façade slip, as the tapping on my scales increased. The fear that I always felt around England swelled. I didn't like when things involving England started to spiral out of my control. It reminded me to much of the pain-

I gasped, cutting off the thought before the fear left me spiraling down in my own memories. Again.

'Something wrong Wales?' England signed. I remember when he's said those words to me before. I remember the mocking. I remember his voice saying those words and sounding so damned smug.

"You really want everyone to know about that? Finally! I love blackmailing you but sharing that story will be so fun!" I said, trying to sound as smug as a could, trying to hide the small bits of fear.

The fear was an overreaction. It was just my traumatized brain being a little shit. Draig was just being a little shit. And England knew that. Some part of that smug bastard enjoyed seeing me fear him.

Oh yes, I wasn't going to be sad when he left this earth.

'Can I not say anything and you choose to keep that secret?' He signed. The fear began to subside as England's actions became predictable again. I let out a small sigh of relief.

"I keep your secrets in exchange for what I want. That's how blackmail works Lloegr. We've been through this song and dance before." I said, leaning a bit closer.

England closed his eyes and ran a hand across his face, a soft sigh exiting his barley parted lips.

'I don't want that secret to be public.' he signed before pausing, looking down at his hands like he was unsure of what words he wanted to use them to make.

"But?" I asked, knowing there was a but coming.

'But I want to...' He said, pausing again.

"I know you're mute but are words really that hard?" I asked. England glared, before speaking softly.

"I care more about having a good relationship with America than I do about keeping that secret." He said, surprising me by actually speaking, especially since it looked like it pained him.

Oh and his answer.

That surprised me too.

"Mister I hate America for what he did to me wants to have a good relationship with him?" I asked skeptically.

'For Britain. He doesn't need me making things harder.' England said.

"Are you sure that's the reason?" I asked, having a growing feeling England was lying. England refused to answer, instead turning and walking away, ending the conversation.

I scowled, and as some as England had turned the corner, kicked the wall, swearing. I was frustrated that I hadn't been able to get any of the information I wanted. Normally blackmail led to my questions being answered, not more being made.

And my stupid fucking trauma. I hated when England saw how it still affected me. I knew he was going to use it against me at some point. I knew he would try too.

After I made this secret public I needed to find more. More blackmail on him. Enough so that he wouldn't dare hurt me again.

That was all I could do for now. If England didn't want to say, that was almost out of my control.

I could try again, with other secrets.

But then I would lose my protection. And I was not going to lose my protection.