A Truly British Christmas

Chapter Six

The fire burned endlessly, it seemed. The yelling and fighting surrounded him, enveloping him in an inescapable terror as he witnessed everything he'd ever loved be burned to the ground. On and on it went, with English Monarchy raising his sword, cursing violently at his French counterpart as everything around them went up in flames.

So loud. Too loud.

Covering his ears, the man screwed his eyes closed and curled up into a ball in a desperate attempt to escape reality, to escape the civil war and the foreign interference that was brought alongside it. He tried to imagine that he was alone, that he was ok, but the monarchies' yelling invaded his mind, returning him to the chaos.

Returning him to the inevitable truth of his destruction...

Screaming, UK clawed at her pillow, tossing around in her bed, throwing blankets in every direction. She was clearly shaking again; her hands trembled as she clutched the cushion beside her, which's fabric was becoming increasingly more strained, harder and harder still.

Nervously, her siblings glanced at one another, unsure of whether to wake their sister from what was presumably another historical flashback. Finally, Scotland tiptoed across the carpet, reaching for Brit's shoulder. He shook her arm, only a little at first, but to no avail. Impatiently, he shook her a little harder, pulling her towards him out of sheer irritation-

"Argh!" Scott yelled, as UK lashed out, her razor-sharp fingernails hitting him squarely in the face, leaving a bleeding streak across his left cheek.

"Hmm?" Brit muttered, slowly opening her eyes, squinting at the light seeping through the room's curtains onto her face. Staring up at her brother, she asked, "What- What happened to your face, Scott?"

"You did," Scott grumbled, sitting on the end of the double bed and mopping up the wound with his sleeve.

"Did I? Sorry, I just-"

"Had another one of those dreams? Yeah we figured," England grimaced, "What happened this time?"

Once again, UK recited her tale, while England and Wales listened intently and Scotland and Northern Ireland fought over one of the fluffy blanket that UK had thrown onto the floor in her sleep. Eventually, once Brit had finished reciting that night's dream, the blanket was confiscated by Wales, though there were several attempts at its theft throughout the day, mostly by Scotland, who insisted he needed it to do his world-famous sheep impression.

***

"Anyone want lunch?" Wales asked cheerily a few hours later, popping her head around the living room door, smiling at the rest of her little family (who had already made the largest mess imaginable, but she chose to gloss over that for her own sanity's sake).

"No thanks, I'm not really in the mood," UK sighed, glancing up from her book on divination, oblivious to the concern on her siblings' faces at her reply.

"Ok..." Wales muttered, frowning slightly, "Everyone else, then?"

"Yes please," England grinned.

"Aye, lunch'd be good," Scott nodded. Northern Ireland simply shrugged and tilted her head slightly, which Wales took as an agreement; North wasn't usually what you'd call expressive, after all.

"Want me tae feed the dragon?" Scott asked, patting Doug on the nose, causing him to stand up and dent the wall with his muscular wings, which fluttered excitedly at the prospect of food.

***

"Found anything yet?" England asked, one the others had left to collect their freshly-baked Welsh Cakes. Gazing at his sister, who was surrounded by a variety of books concerning divination, dreams, and hallucination, he sighed quietly, worried at how obsessed she had become with those... dreams? of hers.

"No..." UK sighed, "Do you think... Will we ever find anything?"

"I don't know, Brit, I just don't know... Get some rest, though, ok? I'll finish looking for you; you've done enough today."

"But-"

"Britain..."

"Fine."

Sorry if that wasn't as good as the last ones! Hope you enjoyed it, though! :D