A Truly British Christmas

Chapter Seven

Wow, creative chapter names-

England's POV:

"ENGLAND, GET UP!"

I've never needed an alarm clock, you know. Really, who would bother when your temperamental brother could yell at you instead?

"Scott, it's three in the morning," I groaned, flicking on my bedside lamp and gazing at my battered watch.

"Not my fault," Scotland rolled his eyes irritably at me, "It's Brit again, she started sleepwalking and threw cold tea over Wales."

"Why did she-"

"Beats me, but you're babysitting her while Wales showers and me and North eat Doritos."

"Me?!" I stammered, "But I was asleep! And I want Doritos too!-" At some point during my rant, he'd swung open the door and pulled an shivering UK into my room, before slamming the door behind him again, leaving me to grumble to myself like a broken washing machine that won't turn off.

Sighing to myself at the Scottish muppet, I glanced over at my sister. I was struck by her startlingly snow-white complexion (which was even paler than usual, which I thought was impossible before then) and by the lack of concern in her eyes. For almost the past week, Brit had been terrified of her nightmarish visions, and yet today she was smiling, laughing, almost...

"UK?" I asked, breaking the silence, "What happened this time?"

"Monar- Father threw fruit juice at whoever I was because I called his jacket old-lady-smelling. He shouted a lot, but he hugged me and apologised at the end, which was kinda weird for him. He also kept calling me-"

"Chicken pie," I muttered, shivering slightly myself at the long-lost memory.

"How did you-"

"You were me."

"Oh."

In spite of myself, I shuddered, pulling my knees into my chest and clutching my duvet, as I recalled the years of my childhood, the years in which my father embedded himself into my mind forever...

I loved my father as a child, but the older I got, the more... questionable he became.

He yelled at the counties a lot, especially the more stubborn ones. He also hated Wales with a burning, raging passion and treated her in an almost sub-human way, barely acknowledging her at the best of times, even though she was my sister and I loved her. I didn't tell her that enough, and I still don't truthfully, but her and the others were everything to me.

The way my siblings were treated wasn't even the worst of it; after that, Monarchy began... I don't even know how to describe it, but soon any word against him was punishable by violence, even if it was just the slightest thing, like the dislike of a policy. I knew many towns and cities that had seen their counties be subjected to all forms of torture simply for voicing their opinions.

I was so confused... My father seemed to be becoming... evil, like the witch from Hansel and Gretel or the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. I denied everything for as long as I could, for as long as my father kept me behind a veil of lies, until I finally witnessed the brutality for myself - in Brit's dream about Rose...

That ended my relationship with my father, but honestly, I never truly let go of the kind, empathetic father figure that I thought he was when I was younger. I suppose that's why Brit never doesn't remember him; I moved out of the palace as quickly as I could after that - though that too took years - taking UK, North and Wales with me for as long as I could keep them all safe. Father kidnapped Wales and Northern Ireland again after barely a month, but I tried to keep Brit as safe as I could, especially after I lost our other sisters.

"E-England?"

He used to act very strangely around UK, always muttering bizarre phrases in Latin or Greek to her when she slept...

"Anglo?"

He's even specifically strange in her mind now! Come to think of it, he's always in her dreams...

"Brother?"

He used to talk in the third person to us. I wonder if he thought like that too... Unless...

"Um... are you ok, England?"

"It's him!" I yelled, "He's doing this to you, I'm certain of it!"

"Who?" Brit asked, furrowing her brow, "Are you alright? Should I call NHS?"

"My father! Monarchy!" I exclaimed, "He's behind your dreams! I'm certain of it!"

"Should I-"

"Get the others? Please do," I grinned.

Don't get me wrong, I've made many wrong decisions, had many incorrect instincts, but this time was different, I could feel it.

For the first time in years, I was certain I was right.