Hetalia - Axis Powers 1. New Country

_A/N- I absolutely love Hetalia but I was rather bummed that the Celts never made an appearance (Ireland, Scotland and Wales) so after a learning a bit about the gruesome history between the Celts and England I decided to represent it as a Hetalia style. No one else seemed to so I thought I'd give it a shot. Mind you I am not Irish so please correct me if I'm wrong on my various few gaelic phrases. This is a bit on the dark side but that's only because its quite a dark history. This is my first Hetalia fanfic (though not my first story ever written) so I hope enjoy and review!_

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><p>A warm breeze swept through the green landscapes. It was about mid afternoon and the country of Ireland decided to take a walk around his large estate. It was a very peaceful day; like usual. Ireland smiled as he took in a deep breath of the lush spring air. He loved spring. That feeling of the wind rushing through his thick, messy red hair always delighted his senses. Ireland rarely combed his hair so it just often bounced at his shoulders. He stood at about five foot ten and had pasty white skin. As it was just a casual day Ireland was dressed down wearing just a simple white button up shirt with a dark green vest over it and dark brown trousers that had a patch over his knee from constantly kneeling when doing work. Normally he'd walk around barefoot but with recent communities being built up he needed to be a little more careful.<p>

So today he wore just a simple pair of brown laced up boots that came up over his ankles. And on his head he wore his favorite plaid cap. It wasn't the most attractive outfit but it was just him so he didn't care. Today would be brilliant picnic weather. Ireland considered asking his younger brother Scotland and younger sister Wales to come over later. That might be nice. Probably would end in a massive fight over something trivial but that's what siblings are for. Just as he was planning on how to ask his siblings a shrill cry broke through his thoughts. He snapped his head around towards the sound.

"What on Earth? That sounded like a child!" He thought.

Ireland held his breath staring at the forest; listening intently for the scream again. Half of him hoped it was just his imagination but the other half said otherwise.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE!"

Without a second thought Ireland sped into the dark forest. No one was supposed to be in this part of the forest! Law and an agreement forbade it! As he ran, Ireland managed to twist off a long sharp branch. He didn't have time to run home and grab his sword so this would have to do. Ireland soon came to a clear and found the source of the crying. A young boy dressed in white with messy blonde hair. His back was turned to Ireland but the country was able to follow the boy's gaze up to what made him cry.

Wolves.

Five wolves all surrounded the young toddler with wide smiles on their muzzles. The largest of them all standing in front of the child, a pure black wolf, looked up and smiled at Ireland.

"Why hello old friend… Come to join us?" The wolf asked.

Ireland stared the wolf down before sternly replying, "Culann I demand you release the child at once!"

Despite this, Culann remained smiling as he said, "Have you forgotten our deal? All humans who enter MY forest belong to me. Just as all wolves that enter your territory belong to you. Save you and I."

It was true. That was the deal they forged years ago however there was something about this child that wasn't normal and Ireland could feel it. This boy was special. He needed to save him.

"Culann please he's just a child." Ireland begged. "Just let him go and I'll bring you some food."

"Or you can just join us. Get them!" Culann barked at his pack.

The wolves ready to pounce but Ireland was faster. He swung his long branch at the wolves managing to knock them away. But five against one was nearly impossible. As they readied their second attack Ireland suddenly jumped into the air and broke his branch into five equal parts. He flung the parts back towards the child forming a circle around him. Ireland managed to hover in air for a few more seconds as he opened a bag of dust on his hip and allowed it to fall onto the child. There was a bright light as Ireland came back down. The wolves were temporarily blinded.

As the light faded they quickly returned their gaze to where the child had been sitting. Both of them were gone. Culann growled in annoyance. "Using your magic is cheating Ireland!" He shouted.

"I'm up here! Come and find me!" Ireland taunted.

The wolves looked up… only to find themselves surrounded by several figures dressed in long black robes with hoods. All of them had the child on their hip and red hair could be seen sticking out from under the hoods. They were ALL Ireland. The wolves spun around frantically trying to figure out which one was the real one. They all knew this trick; especially Culann but it didn't make it any easier. These were known as shadow copies. As soon as you touched one it faded away. But over the years Ireland got better at the spell and was able even copy his smell into each one.

But one stood out. The one running away. Culann ordered his pack to follow him as he took the rear. Seconds passed before suddenly all the shadows faded leaving one figure standing in the trees to pull his hood down; the Real Ireland. The wolves were chasing a Shadow copy. However Culann was smarter than his pack so it wouldn't be long before he worked it out and would be after them again. Ireland re-adjusted the babe on his hip before jumping down the tree. He hit the ground running in the opposite direction towards the cliffs.

Just as Ireland had predicted it wasn't long before Culann worked out they were chasing a fake. The Shadow copy didn't leave footprints. The wolf growled and swiftly turned around. Now there was only one scent. This is where Ireland had to get crafty. He was nowhere near as fit as his brother and couldn't outrun Culann forever. But he knew his way around the forest like the back of his hand. He created another shadow copy to stand beside a tree while he ran to the side and pulled a branch back.

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*WHACK*

The force of the branch threw a foolish young wolf back and the Shadow copy disappeared. One down four to go. "Hold onto my neck!" He instructed the boy. The blond child with the thick bushy eyebrows nodded and obeyed leaving Ireland's hands free. He ran down a path leading to the cliff face. Getting a running start, Ireland jumped up and clung to the wall then preceded to free hand climb it. He was about half way up when the rest of the pack caught up. Ireland's plan was just to climb to the top then jump along the treetops. That was the plan at least. Once he got to the top so too did the wolves. Ireland was considering jumping but the jump required a running start and the moment he turned his back to the wolves they would pounce. He was trapped.

"Cac…" He muttered under his breath.

"Enough of these games Ireland. Hand us the child and we'll spare your life." Culann growled.

Ireland looked down and considered jumping when he saw the wolf he had knocked out earlier standing there with its mouth open wide. It seemed like the wolves were going to get their way when suddenly there was a loud whistle followed by a painful howl. Several more whistles were heard and two wolves were lying on the ground with several arrows sticking out of non-vital areas. Ireland recognized those arrows immediately. Welsh arrows. Ireland smiled as suddenly his little sister appeared in the treetops aiming her bow and arrow. And where there was Wales there was…

"HA!" Came the loud Scottish roar as Scotland brought his broad sword near the other wolf before swinging it again and knocking the wolf away. Seeing they were gravely outnumbered, Culann ordered a retreat and the wolf pack with their superficial injuries limped away. Once gone, Ireland released a heavy sigh of relief before setting down the boy on the ground in front of him.

"What were you thinking wandering alone into the forest like that? Huh? You killed have been killed! If it- what?" Ireland snapped as Scotland interrupted his scolding by placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Ireland wait…" Pushing his older brother to the side, Scotland knelt down in front of the child. The child was slightly intimidated. Scotland was huge! He had to be at least six feet tall and was really well built with huge muscles. He could have easily killed all those wolves in seconds without breaking a sweat! Scotland had long, thick straggly, brown hair that was pulled back over his face by a loose ponytail. All he was wearing was a simple thick brown loincloth tied around his hips. And on the rest of his body he just had weird blue symbols painted on.

The boy glanced over at Wales. She was the youngest of the three. She was dressed in brown Celtic style dress with wooden ornaments and leather wraps around her arms and legs acting as armor. She had black hair, which was braided in the back, but a few strands stuck out in her face. She also looked the nicest with a warm smile.

"Ireland this is a new country." Scotland said breaking the boy's examinations.

"What?" Both Wales and Ireland exclaimed.

"What's your name?" Scotland asked looking down at the boy.

The boy stared up at the three siblings. They did save his life… it was only proper manners to give his name. And they seemed nice enough.

"My name is England."


	2. Trouble Arrives

Chapter 2: Trouble Arrives

_Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did this would so be an episode/story_

From that day forth the three Celtic siblings adopted England as their new baby brother. It took a while for little England to get used to the fact Ireland was the eldest considering he was shorter than Scotland (which he hated being reminded about). But as time went on England adjusted to his new life. The first thing the four siblings worked together on was to build England a basic mud hut. England couldn't do much due to his age but he helped by passing Ireland and Scotland tools. They then went to Ireland's house to collect some hay for his bed while Wales ran back to her house to collect some wool for the bedding. England went with Ireland to help carry a small bundle of hay.

Scotland continued finishing the house. Around sundown they finished the small mud hut including the bed. It was hard work and very dirty but England couldn't be happier. His white gown was now stained brown from the mud. Soon after it was finished and England seemingly settled, Ireland headed back towards his house but stopped at his farm first. There he took one of his medium size cows and lead it away into Culann's forest. The cow was quite reluctant to go but Ireland was stronger and continued dragging. Arriving to the middle of the woods, with the rope pinched under his upper arm, he raised both of his hands to his mouth and gave a loud wolf howl.

There was a howling reply which freaked the cow out but Ireland kept hold of it as the large black wolf lunged from out of the trees glaring at Ireland with his burning gold eyes. Ireland remained unfazed though. He slowly stepped to the side of the cow resting his arm over its neck.

"Here. This is for making you skip a meal and as I promised." Ireland said offering the cow to the black wolf.

This seemed to relax Culann slightly. He stood straight but continued his harsh stare on Ireland before nodding to his wolf pack that were hiding in the woods to take the cow away. Ireland took several steps away lest be mulled by the hungry pack. They easily killed the cow then with little effort worked together to drag it away back to their den leaving Ireland and Culann alone. The country knew this is what would happen so he tossed his pet a steak he had wrapped in his pocket. Culann immediately caught it and began eating the raw meat. Ireland sat down as the wolf swallowed his small meal.

"So it turns out that kid was actually a new country…" Ireland started quietly.

"I know." Culann said callously as he lay down on his stomach and proceeded to lick his paws clean.

"What? And you still tried to kill him?" Ireland exclaimed absolutely shocked to hear such news.

"That's why I tried to kill him. The boy reeked of corruption and hatred." Culann explained like it was no big deal.

Ireland was completely taken aback. He just couldn't believe what he was hearing. "But he's just a child-!"

"Children grow up, Eire. I sensed a great evil in him that will blossom soon and he will become a ruthless ruler of these lands."

With that the red haired country stood up and stared down his once pet wolf. "I don't want to believe you… but if what you say is true then Scotland, Wales and I will just train him otherwise!

"You countries are so foolish but it's your choice. For your sake, I hope you succeed." Culann said quietly standing on his four paws.

Ireland nodded and with that the two parted ways. As Ireland walked he reflected Culann's words. While a wolf, Culann was not one to lie to Ireland about such important subject matters and Ireland had grown up to learn to trust Culann's sense about the future. The two had met when they were both very small. Ireland was born before his younger brother Scotland that meant he was left alone to defend himself. He remembered how it felt like days he wandered through the vast, rich wilderness until he stumbled upon a young wolf cub trapped in some pushes.

Little Ireland pulled him out and with the young cub's help he took him back to his mother in the middle of the woods. The mother was impressed by Ireland's bravery and decided to keep him safe until another could help take care of him. So Ireland and Culann grew up together until shortly after Scotland was found. Once the boys were old enough to take care of themselves they left the forest but that's when Ireland and Culann had made that law to protect each other. Since then on they had lived their separate lives but kept in touch with frequent meetings.

But this time, the country decided his pet was wrong. They would raise him better than what he was predicted to become. Before he knew it, Ireland was back at his simple mud hut. He sighed then went inside. Tomorrow would be the first training day of many.

Each sibling trained the young country in a different skill. Young Wales taught him how to farm and gather food. She showed him where and when to plant the seeds and when to harvest and how to keep an eye out for bad crops. It was back breaking work but each day made him stronger and he started to grow. England was impressed by how well his sandy blonde sister handled herself with all the hard labour. Often he would spend half the day helping Wales on the farm before resting a bit for Scotland's evening hunting training.

The two countries set out at dusk and often didn't come back till the middle of the night. Despite his size, Scotland demonstrated how to be perfectly silent and invisible in the night forest while hunting his prey. England was simply entranced as his big brother glided through the woods like a ghost. The first few nights England could barely see a thing unless the moonbeams caught him but over time his eyesight also improved. Once the young country mastered stealth it was time to teach him to use weapons. Scotland began taking him out earlier in the day so he could see his targets for practice.

But before the two could actually start learning to use weapons, Scotland had England make his own weapon. He taught him the best materials to use and how to sharp sticks and how to use sap to glue the feathers on. Once a worth bow and arrows were made they began. England impressed himself and his brunette mentor in how well he could shoot. Within a few tries he was hitting the berry painted target on the tree dead on. Scotland taught him how to use a few more weapons before taking the growing country out on their first hunt. Just like his big brother showed him all those years ago, England ghosted through the forest and then as silently as an owl killed his first deer.

And finally Ireland trained England in the hardest skill of all; magic. These lessons could only be performed once a week and only when there wasn't work to be done to prevent the inexperienced England from exhausting himself out. However like with the other two, over time England got stronger. He was soon conjuring up powerful spells as his redhead brother without exerting too much energy. Ireland even made him his own black cape. When asked what the cape was for, Ireland just shrugged and said it made him look ominous.

All three siblings worked together to help train England to fight. They rarely ever had battles to fight mainly because most ships couldn't make it to their small island but nothing wrong with a friendly sparring match. Culann would often watch these training sessions from the edge of the woods. He more curious though to see how well Ireland was keeping up what he said. But no matter how much progress the old wolf witnessed, that essence of evil was still within the child country. Sometimes it even grew a little. If ever Ireland brought the child into the woods to meet with him, Culann would refuse to speak to the child. Yet no matter what Culann said, Ireland refused to believe it.

When the four siblings felt they had done enough for the day they would sit around the fire singing songs and telling magical folk stories with the aid of Ireland's magic. They told stories of far off lands with mystical creatures such as dragons and faeries. England also loved when his three older siblings would play a song together just for him; Scotland playing his bagpipes, Ireland with his fiddle and Wales on the pan flute. Things were good.

Until fateful day where everything changed. That year was 54 B.C.

"IRELAND! SCOTLAND!" Wales screamed running for her brothers.

The two countries stood as Wales approached them panting. "White. Clouds! Massive clouds gliding on wooden frames across the ocean! Come see!"

Scotland, Ireland and England shot each other a similar confused look before following their sister to a cliff on looking the sea. A massive fleet of Roman ships could be seen slowly approaching their shores. Only a year before had their leader, Julius Ceaser, tried this but it seemed this time he came back with reinforcement; Ancient Rome stood proud and tall on the leading ship with a smug grin on his face. He didn't even give the four tribal nations a chance to react before ordering an assault. The sky darkened as hordes of arrows were rained upon the countries; barely missing them as they ran away.

They ran into the trees that helped deflect the onslaught. Scotland suddenly stuck his finger and thumb in his mouth and whistled loudly to the trees. From out of the woods bounded a large stag with long, strong horns. Scotland turned as it ran past before grabbing one of its large horns and mounting the massive deer. He reached down and quickly grabbed Wales. They had to retreat to regroup. England and Ireland continued on foot in the hopes to lead the armies astray to give Scotland and Wales enough time to gather the villagers for an attack. But England was not big enough to keep up with his big brother and in his blind panic failed to see a root sticking out of the ground.

With a scream he suddenly tripped and fell flat on his face with the root tangled firmly around his slightly twisted ankle. His scream caught the attention of Ireland causing him to stop and turn. In the distance he could see the glimmer of the Roman's armor through the trees approaching quickly. He drew his knife and ran back to England's side and began hacking away at the thick branch. The sounds of the armies' battle cries roared through the trees scaring all the wild life towards them. Suddenly out of now where in the chaos Culann leapt out and bit Ireland's arm and dragged him away. Culann ignored his protests and continued running. Blood poured from the bite but Culann wasn't biting too hard to cause any serious damage.

"CULANN STOP!" Ireland screamed trying to pull away.

He glanced back as the army managed to encircle the child country. Ireland couldn't bare to watch it anymore. The country stopped and ripped his arm out of Culann's mouth making a deeper wound. Culann shouted at him to stop but Ireland was already charging head first towards the army. He was grossly out numbered and his wooden staff was going to be no match against their swords and armor. He retreated into the forest to watch and wait for the opportune moment to attack. It was clear almost immediately that Ireland was in trouble. Before he could even cast a spell a guard had managed get behind the country and hit him hard across the back to weaken him enough to be captured.

England had also been subdued just as Ancient Roman approached the two struggling countries. His predator smile enraged Ireland. He hated feeling helpless and captured and to that affect refused to show it.

"Well… what do we have here?" The large country asked looking down at little England. "Why, I do believe it's a new country."

Unfortunately, Ireland couldn't understand a word this man was saying and that only furthered his anger. But whatever he was saying didn't look good judging by his body language. For some strange reason though… England almost looked like he could understand what the big loud country was saying a bit. Just as it looked like things were bleak, suddenly an hour came whizzing through the air and managed to pierce a guard standing just behind England. Ireland smiled instantly recognizing the black feathers as Scotland's arrow. A few more flew out but it still wasn't enough.

Soon Ancient Rome ordered the attack however to be cruel, he only had 3 of his archers fire to show off their strength. The two missed but the third one struck Scotland in his bare, painted blue shoulder; knocking him off his stag. Ireland and England screamed in horror seeing their larger brother fall to the ground. More guards were sent out to locate Wales, which didn't take long at all. The Celtic siblings couldn't believe it. In less than an hour and with very little effort they had all been captured and restrained. It was embarrassing, humiliating and frustrating.

The year before these guys couldn't set a foot on land now this! But Ireland refused to give in so easily yet. He struggled against his captor until he managed to find a small opening to thrash his head back and hit the guard's head behind him. The sudden blow caused the guard to release Ireland to which he began fighting a hopeless battle against the hundreds of guards that had already begun trying to restrain him again. Once captured again, Ireland was forced onto his knees in front of Ancient Rome. To taunt him, the large country came down on one knee before the smaller country before hooking his crop under Ireland's chin to keep their gaze locked.

"Well it seems you're the most feisty of the three. I have just the place for you." With a painful slap on his cheek from the whip Ancient Rome stood to address his troops. "I want you to separate these three countries. Take the girl to the far Western corner of this island and take the big one up North and build a wall to keep him out. As for you…" Ancient Rome looked down at Ireland with a shark like smile, "Tie him up and put him onto a boat towards that smaller island we passed. Tie him to a tree and be sure he's secured before returning."

Once again the Siblings could not understand what the large country said but when they started being dragged away from each other they understood immediately. They had begun struggling again but the 27,000 strong army had split into thirds to carry out their commander's orders.

"And what do we do about the little one?" Julius Ceaser asked.

"We keep him and raise him as our own to expand our Roman Empire." Ancient Rome exclaimed with a beaming smile on his face.

England shook watching his older siblings being dragged away from him. He wanted to fight this but alas he was too little and too weak. He saw how easily they took down his brothers and sister. He was forced to watch as elder brother was flung so forcibly onto the small ship. The rest of the crew boarded quickly and they set sail towards the island. Culann thought now was the perfect time. He rushed out of the woods and charged towards the slowly sailing boat. He ran along the cliff face before at the last moment jumping off the cliff edge towards the boat.

The Romans were caught completely off guard when the large black wolf landed on their ship with a loud thud. Ireland was happy to see his former pet as he sat up in the corner he had been thrown into bound in chains and leather. Culann laid waste upon the guards; tearing them apart as if they were merely clothe. From the shore, Ancient Rome witnessed the entire fight. If that wolf managed to free that feisty red-headed country then his whole plan would fail.

He immediately ordered two ships to follow behind to destroy the first ship. Just before the helmsman was killed, he had made sure to jam the stern so it would stay on course. Once all the crew were dead, Culann ran over to his former master and began gnawing and tearing at the bounds. The leather was pretty easy to break off his legs and arms but the shackles on Ireland's wrists and ankles proved the hardest. The wolf had never encountered such a strong material before. It was hard on his strong teeth and didn't seem to have a weak point. He kept trying for hours but nothing seemed to work.

The two ships were approaching fast and Culann could smell fire from them both which he knew couldn't be good for the two of them. Something shiny then caught Ireland's green eyes. It was long and gold with a weird jagged edge. Ireland remembered that thing was used to close the shackles together. He pointed Culann to the shiny thing clasped to the dead body hanging over the edge of the boat and had him bring it back to him. If he remembered correctly, the guard jammed it into the weird shaped hole and then turned.

This proved extremely difficult with his hands bound but soon there was a victory click and his wrists were free. Ireland fumbled quickly with the shackles on his ankles to get them free. There was a sense of rush in the air. They had to hurry. And not a moment too soon it turned out. Ireland heard someone shout from the other boat and then suddenly a great giant fireball was hurtling towards them. Ireland and Culann easily dodged it but they soon released they were in a lot more danger. The boat quickly caught on fire and the ball had gone through the boat creating a giant hole that began filling with water.

"Let's go!" Culann shouted diving into the water.

Ireland followed quickly. He was so glad he was an excellent swimmer but he had no idea where they were other than in the freezing soon to be known as the Irish Sea. Seeing their mission was a success, the two boats turned away quickly leaving Ireland and Culann stranded in the middle of the glacial waters. Culann could see Ireland's body struggling with the cold waters so he swam back and under his friend. The country took hold of Culann's neck as Culann swam West towards the island.

Meanwhile, back at the main island.

"So, what's your name son?" Ancient Rome asked his new protégé standing by his side in Roman attire.

"M-my n-n-name i-is…" England began struggling to form the Latin syllables. "My n-name is… England."

Ancient Rome smiled. The first indication that a country was yours was if they adapted your mother tongue. Yes, soon England would be his arm in the great Roman Empire and the Celts were powerless to stop them.

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><p><em>AN: So a couple of things I wanted to address. Please forgive me if I got any dates or information wrong. I did not major in History I just like this portion. Language was actually a huge factor in the take over of the British Isles. Whoever had the superior language became ruler._

_Anyways, please read and review! I'm so happy so many of you have already started following which is why I really pushed to get this second chapter done. Hope you enjoy it!_


	3. Let's do the time warp again!

**(A/N) Firstly, I'd like to apologise for the late delay and say thanks to the people who urged me to finish. Secondly I'd like to apologise for the this long history lesson of a chapter. You can pretty much skim the middle. I didn't really want to go history hopping as you'd be confused and it'd feel discombobulated. ****I promise you, next chapter will be the juicy stuff (potato famine, Irish war etc.) and more England being an ass to his brothers! There's free cake if you finish this chapter!**

**Hetalia does not belong to me.**

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><p>Things became very difficult for the three Celtic siblings over the course of the next few centuries. Ireland miraculously survived thanks to Culann but they were forced to build a new life all over again from the ground up. It was nice having Culann's help but it didn't compare to that of Scotland's or Wales'. Ireland missed them greatly but most of all he missed England and feared for his young life. Through reports sent by faeries, Ireland learned that several times Scotland and Wales tried to attack the Roman empire but their forces were just too strong.<p>

Meanwhile, England was growing up accustomed to the luxurious Roman life style. He was introduced to heated floors, roads for carriages and great stone structures that were so much more stable than his small wooden hut. He was taught by some of the greatest minds of the time in the arts of science and math and literature taken from other conquered nations such as Greece and the middle East. It wasn't long before England began preferring this life style to his siblings. As soon as Ancient Rome saw this tiny crack he decided to take a hammer and make sure it completely split them apart.

Ancient Rome began subtly teaching England that his siblings were actually against him. It started with shrewd whispers at night while he was asleep before soon Ancient Rome began telling him directly. He would say such things as, 'they kept these luxuries from you' or 'they're not sophisticated enough to handle such a lifestyle as you and I are'. At first England didn't believe him but over the time with the constant whisperings and evidence he came around to the idea.

But just as England was becoming a fully integrated Roman, Ancient Rome suddenly up and left with most of his troops leaving England's expanded land only half finished with the Roman modernizing. Upon receiving word that the Romans had left, Ireland, Scotland and Wales returned to their brother to see if they could salvage anything. However it was clear the Roman influence was still strong. England had grown so accustomed to the Roman life style he kept strong trade routes with Rome and the surrounding countries and kept modernizing England in accordance with the Roman architect. He now had a strong government and it took months before the Celts were granted permission to see their growing little brother.

At only 505 years old, England was crowned King of the English Roman Empire and he was now a teenager. This unnerved them greatly seeing their younger brother sitting so smugly in his marble throne. But then a familiar smile returned as he descended from his throne.

"Brothers! Sister!" He exclaimed charging towards them to give a hug.

Due to the Roman influence spreading into their new homes, Ireland, Scotland and Wales had picked up a bit of Latin however not enough to understand every word. England's sudden shout startled them but when he hugged them they figured it was some sort of exclaiming address. They hugged him back anyways.

"I've missed you guys so much! I have a lot to show you!" England beamed. The Celtic siblings exchanged confused glances as they didn't understand a word their brother just said provoking England to go, "Oh yeah duh um…" He had to re-think a moment before repeating the exact same thing, not very well, in Gaelic.

They understood immediately but something about his new careless attitude to his roots bothered them a little. England excitedly began taking his siblings through his new palace; completely Roman designed. The Celts felt completely out of place. Here they were covered in head to toe with dirt, wild messy hair and worn out clothes amongst these people who appeared to have bathed every day, wore clean silk dresses and walked around like snobs. Some even glared at the Celts as they walked in behind the King. Ireland fought everything in his power not to put a spell on them that'd make them blind. He understood why Culann didn't want to come now.

After the awkwardly long tour they all sat down for a meal around what was called a table. Celts had never seen such a weird piece of furniture. And then strange colorful balls of different shapes were brought out and set on the table. England's smile grew as he plucked on of the smaller purple circles and popped it in his mouth with a satisfying moan as he swallowed it.

"Come on try some! Its good! It's called…" England paused a moment trying to think a translation of, 'grape' since they had never seen such a fruit before. "Its good!"

Reluctantly Ireland, Scotland and Wales tried the oval fruit and found it strangely good. It was both sweet and tangy. The only thing close to it they had were apples. More strange foods were brought out which the Celts only reluctantly tried. After the final meal was cleared away England sat back with a distended stomach and a happy smile whilst the Celts remained cautious. Just as the servants left Scotland turned to his younger brother with concern.

"This is… all nice and stuff England… but we were wondering when you'll be coming home with us?" Scotland carefully posed.

"Yeah! Let's go back to simpler times without all this… stuff." Ireland carelessly threw in.

England's expression darkened as those words resonated with what Ancient Rome told him. He didn't want to believe it but hearing Ireland say those exact words converted his mind immediately. Ireland, Scotland and Wales didn't care about England. They just wanted to go back to their "simpler" life. England stood up glaring at his once siblings.

"I want you to leave. Now." England ordered.

The atmosphere became thick and heavy and cold. His guards appeared and roughly escorted the three Celts out of the nice palace. Wales turned her head back and caught the last glimpse of her older brother for the last time for many centuries. If things weren't bad before, they were now. Soon more foreigners were trying to claim their lands and the siblings were dived trying to fight off what became known as the Anglo Saxons. Even England was forced to try and fight off the foreigners.

However they were grossly out numbered. After many, many centuries England grew as he absorbed the new countries. He stole many of their cultures to create a hodgepodge of his own. It wasn't long before the English language was formed and due to England's growing power and the struggles of the Celts, they were forced to learn it as well to continue trading and surviving. Many Celts, or Britons as the Romans began calling them, were forced into slavery. Scotland appeared to be the most difficult force so in 122 AD the Romans built a wall known as Hadrian's Wall to keep him out but it was no match for him and his Elk to jump and repeatedly attack the resting camps there.

But no matter how many Scotland killed, more just kept coming. Not only was their culture threatened now the new Roman religion of Christianity was attempting to convert their Pagan religion. Finally the Celts had, had enough repression and they gathered all their tribes together and in the 360s lead a rebellion against the Romans. This only enraged the growing England more. How dare his so-called siblings try and steal his land away from him. He ordered for reinforcements and sadly once again the Celts were pushed back. After centuries of what seemed like never ending anguish, the Roman empire was falling under heavy attack and all Roman soldiers were called home once again.

Soon to follow were all the Romans themselves as in 410 AD Emperor Honorius cut all ties with England leaving him completely on his own. The Vikings saw this as a brilliant opportunity to new land. England was defenseless and the Celts were weakened from their recent battles with England. So Denmark, Norway and Sweden boarded their ships and sailed across the cold seas to East England and began taking over. The Norsemen were ruthless and strong. They literally muscled their way into the weaken Kingdom. They even started invading France and Germany and Spain; anywhere accessible by boat.

But England and his small yet strong army managed to defeat the Danish king in 871 AD however he allowed them to settle in East England in which the town of Danelaw was built; becoming the Viking capital of England. It was long before the Norsemen were inhibiting everyone's countries: North Scotland, South East Ireland and South Wales. The Celts weren't happy about this but it turned out the Vikings could very helpful when they weren't trying to kill you. They taught them new skills and languages to help further develop the struggling siblings.

The political affairs between England and the Vikings were of little concern to the Celts. England's recently built capital city of London began to grow and expand over the next few centuries. The three siblings dared not step foot in the modern place. All the grounds were paved, there was barely any wild life or plants anywhere and it was getting so crowded. By 1170 London had over 30,000 residents; far greater than any city the Celts could make thus far. It wasn't long before England once again decided to conquer his siblings. In the last thousand years he had grown strong and by order of King Edward, he successfully conquered his little sister Wales and successfully managed to invade Scotland to steal the sacred Stone of Destiny from Scone and rode it back to Westminster. Scotland was not happy about that at all and under the ruling of William Wallace, the Scotsman managed to beat back his brother's forces.

And to make it even more sweet for the Celts, their younger brother soon started the 100 years war with the pompous France. It was very amusing to watch their fights sometimes. However this nice break once again was cut short. Rats had brought over on one of England's trade boats and they spread like rabbits and the flies they carried spread what was known as the Black Death. All of Europe was affected including the Celts. The three of them banded together to take care of each other while their populations depleted rapidly. The hardest was in the winter of 1349. Poor Wales had just gotten over her plague but Scotland and Ireland were suffering and the cold winter months didn't help. She greatly wished she could go get help from England but her older brothers' forbid it.

While her brothers were mad, she missed England. Sure he was awful now but when it was just the four of them Wales had never been happier. If she could have one wish it would be to turn back time and make sure they grabbed England before the mean old nasty Roman Empire got his hands on him. Yes it was all Ancient Rome's fault. While her elder brothers lay sick in their beds Wales began knitting a picture of her favorite memory of the four of them together. She'd never dare show it to them though.

Thankfully the Black Death left as quickly as it came and within a year everyone was back on their feet. Like anything, it flared up now and again but not as bad as that winter. For being such an awesome little sister, Scotland and Ireland offered her anything she wanted. Wales sucked in a deep breath as she readied herself to ask her brothers of the one thing she knew they wouldn't like…

"Can you take me to see England?"

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><p><strong>*hands free cake*<br>****I'll try and finish and post the next chapter soon! It'll be good!**

**P.S. I am not a Historian, I've just been using expensive historical sites so if I've made a historical error or what not please lemme know though bare in mind its only going to be 80% accurate due to it being a Hetalia story lol.**  
><strong>Read and Review please!<strong>


	4. an Drochshaol

**A/N- WOOHOO I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER! I'm so sorry for the long wait but everyone who has added this story to their favourites and stuff has really helped motivated me to finish this sooner so thanks for that! I would love more reviews though just to know how you like where the story is going and stuff. Nicely though; screaming at me won't really change anything.**

**So as promised, more England being an ass and a bit more action. A little more history but kind of hard, again, to avoid. I'm sorry if it seems rushed in places. Please let me know and I'll fix it. Also once again, I am not an expert in Irish or even history so if I got a fact wrong please let me know as well!**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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><p>Rain beat down on Wales's hood as she road along the muddy dirt road towards Windsor upon her old horse. London was the new capital of England but she had recently heard (from the English guards) that England was residing in Windsor castle currently which was fortunately a lot closer than London. She pulled her cloak tighter together to keep the brisk air out. Sometimes she really hated being a rainy country. Sure it was great for crops and stuff but now good for long already uncomfortable rides. The female country sighed before pushing some escaping tears from her eyes as she remembered her brothers' reactions to her question. It was just as bad, if not worse than what she could imagine.<p>

"_Are you crazy Wales? After all he's done for us you want to go see him again? Why?" Ireland barked._

"_Ireland's right, why Wales?" Scotland asked slightly more calmly however there was a clear tone of anger bubbling up._

_Wales sat quietly on a chair in front of her brothers with her head lowered. She couldn't face them right now. "I… I miss him…"_

_The next thing Wales knew the corner of her eye was staring at her reflection in Ireland's sword. Her eyes quickly shot forward to a very angry Ireland panting and balling his fists. The red headed country would never hurt her but seeing how close that blade came to her scared her so much._

"_That bastard… stole everything us! He has oppressed our people and enslaved them to build up his growing industry, which is pushing us back further and further every day! And you miss him?" Ireland probed between steady angry pants. _

_Wales could only lower head again hoping she could just disappear from this whole thing. Scotland wrapped his large hand around the hilt of Ireland's sword before pulling it out of the wooden wall. "Wales, we will not take you to go see him. If you wish to go, then go."_

And so Wales did. Once Ireland and Scotland left, bitterly I might add, Wales packed up a few provisions and road off East. It could have just been the weather but Wales felt incredibly cold riding alone along the muddy horse trampled path. She soon came to the outskirts of Windsor. Her poor pony felt uncomfortable clip clopping on the cobbled streets. His hooves weren't used to the hard, cold ground. Wales held the reins tighter to keep him under control, as the streets grew more and more crowded. It wasn't as bad as their last visit since now everyone was covered in dirt again but she still felt like people were staring at her.

Sadly her fears became real as she got closer to the palace. The houses got bigger and more fancy and Wales stood out like a sore thumb. She was now tempted to turn back realizing there was no way they were going to let a little dirty peasant girl into the grand Palace of the residing King of England and Britain himself. Wales was about to but then suddenly a band of guards also on horseback approached her.

"Halt! No beggars allowed 'ere!" The head guard shouted in a thick cockney accent.

Wales gulped and shouted in her best English, "I'm… I'm not a beggar! I'm here to see my younger brother Britain!" To prove what she was saying she quickly pulled her sleeve up and a tattoo with the Welsh dragon appeared on her wrist, which appeared on all countries when they needed to prove they were a country (though this was usually a rare case).

The guard forcibly grabbed her wrist and examined the magical tattoo to make sure it was legit. Once satisfied the guard threw her wrist down and wiped his hand of the filth onto his leg. He then turned to one of his subordinates and ordered them to alert Britain. "If his Lordship be free, we will take you to see him. In the mean time stay here and don't cause trouble you grotty sheep shagger."

Wales glared at the guard as he trotted off to attend more important business. She hated being called that but right now was not the time to fight. There was too many guards around and she knew it would end very badly if she started something. Wales decided to dismount her pony to give him a rest. She stroked his rugged mane and fed him a couple of apples. She hoped that there would be a place to get him some water either inside or on the way out.

A few minutes later the sound of the large gate across the road squeaking open caught Wales' attention. Three guards came out ordered Wales to follow them. She wasn't just some slave girl they could so rudely order around. She was a country! But the Welsh girl swallowed her pride and walked behind them leading her pony by the reins since this was probably her only opportunity to see England again. Fear swelled in her gut. She remembered how their last visit went terribly. Then again, England agreed to see her again so he mustn't hate her too much… right?

Wales was first lead to the stables where she could tie her pony up beside fountain of water. Then as they walked through the grand halls Wales' eyes wandered around the grand designs of the castle. There was an air of elegance to each and every expensive decoration. Tall portraits of past kings and queens and great battles towered over the venturing party. Wales had never seen a painting before and she had to admit it some of them were beautiful. Particularly the ones with white-faced women dressed in gorgeous jeweled gowns.

For the first time in her life, Wales felt self-conscious. She found she wanted to look as pretty as those women in the paintings. She had never had those nice things since growing up with her brothers. She noticed the guard sending her a warning glare to keep moving or else so she picked up her pace. Soon they arrived at the grand throne room doors. Wales swallowed hard fearing what awaited her behind the large richly made entrance. With a loud, booming creak the doors crept open revealing an eccentric throne room covered with the finest jewels, silks and gold.

"Welcome sister." England smiled with a dangerous predatory smile as the doors rumbled closed behind her, "I've missed you dearly."

Scotland and Ireland were horrified to learn of their sister's treachery. A few centuries, mere months to them, had passed and they soon received word that Wales had signed a treaty to join England's nation in the year 1536. Her home was completely renovated to match the modern style of England and many castles were built. It wasn't long before Ireland and Scotland soon fell under their little brother's tyrannical rule. An Englishman by the name of Oliver Cromwell conquered Ireland in 1650 quickly followed by his younger brother Scotland in 1652. England went to witness this personally. The two beaten countries were flung to their knees before him.

"Well now, big brothers, look who's in charge now." A toothy smile curled on his pale lips as England's bushy eyebrows furrowed into dark stare. "I'm going to enjoy this."

"WHAT THE HELL DID WE EVER DO TO YOU?" Ireland finally screamed after nearly one thousand five hundreds years waiting to say that. "We took care of you like our own!"

Suddenly England's boot made contact with Ireland's face in a powerful kick causing him to spit out a lot of blood. He would have normally gotten up and punched the living daylights of the English bastard but his hands were bound by strong rope and there was a guard standing behind him with a sword ready to strike. Finally Scotland spoke up.

"Ireland has point brother, what have we done to you?" Scotland said ever so carefully.

But England seemed to ignore him as he turned to his head guard. All those lies Ancient Rome had told him were nestled deep within his soul and he believed them like his belief in God: strongly. After a brief discussion England turned back to his mud covered prey before picking Ireland up by the throat in a strong grip.

"I own your sorry ass now and you will do as I say when I say it understand me?" England seethed. He threw Ireland back into the mud. England wiped his hands clean before ordering his guards to separate the two brothers once more back to their respective homes. More English migrated to their lush lands and began cultivating the lands to their liking. A lot of English soldiers were sent in to make sure the King's order was kept that most of Scotland and Ireland's crops were sent to the English. It made things incredibly difficult.

Especially when a second plague broke out in London. They demanded even more food to take care of the healthy and keep them from getting sick; namely the rich. And things plummeted from there. In 1845, the worst tragedy struck Ireland: the Potato famine. Ireland fell gravely ill. He and his people were starving but his bastard brother still refused to lift the workload. Now practically all the food he collected went straight to England leaving him with nothing. Hearing word of this, Scotland rushed to his brother's aid. There wasn't much he could do in terms of resources but he had to try.

Surprisingly England allowed him to cross Ireland's boarders. Scotland didn't like that, something irked him about it, but right now his older brother's life was at stake. When Scotland arrived in 1847, Ireland was in terrible shape. He was sickly pale and had lost nearly half his weight. Dark circles clung under his baggy eyes from the lack of sleep due to hunger pains. In many places Scotland could see he was just skin and bone. Culann sat by Ireland's side also looking like he had lost weight. Since England's invasion, Culann chose to stay by Ireland's side to protect him plus the English bastards had started hunting him and his clan down for sport despite Ireland's best efforts to stop them. The pack split up to protect them selves from getting hunted more easily.

"You look awful big brother…" Scotland could only manage to say.

Ireland tried sitting up from his bed but his weaken form wouldn't hold and he fell back down. "hey…"

Scotland grabbed a chair from the small table in the middle of the room and sat down taking his brother's hand. "Please listen to me. Do you remember that little boy England was taking care of for a while? The one who grew up and left?"

Ireland weakly nodded.

"Well he actually turned out to be a country too and he now owns the new world. And just recently he's declared independence from England and his home is going strong. You should go there-"

"No!" Ireland protested finding a sudden second wind to sit up properly this time. "I will not leave my home! I will not run like a coward with my tail between my legs!"

"You are dying here Ireland! Whether you like it or not you have no choice if you wish to survive." Scotland replied sternly. "Go to America, gather your strength and then you can come back."

The dark-red headed country grit his teeth and the atmosphere grew dark and cold making even Culann whimper slightly. But then suddenly Ireland's breathing grew shallower and he threw up another dry heave from the lack of nutrients in his body. He fell back even more exhausted than before. Scotland hated seeing his brother this way and Ireland hated looking so weak to his brother.

"I'll leave at first light…" Ireland whispered quietly in defeat.

Scotland nodded relieved his brother wasn't as stubborn as he usually was. "I'll pack you a few provisions. You try and get some rest right now. You have a very long journey ahead of you."

Ireland groaned at the thought of trying to sleep on an empty stomach yet again. Scotland had a look around Ireland's small kitchen and found a few supplies. Enough for one tiny meal. Since he was leaving the next day it would be okay for him to finish off the last of his food. Scotland brought back a small hunk of bread, a few slices of cheese and a small blood sausage. It was pathetic really but it was all Ireland really had. Scotland helped feed his older brother before washing it down with water and then Ireland fell back on his pillow in a restful sleep.

The brunette country moved quickly to back a few of Ireland's clothes into an old sack along with his book of magic. He sat the tied sack by the door before sitting down and twining some rope together. Culann awoke and curiously watched the younger yet bigger country make a bad noose. Seeing the black wolf was awake, Scotland called him over and slipped the noose around Culann's neck. At first Culann panicked and was about to attack before Scotland quickly took the rope off.

"It's a lead." He explained. "If you look like a wild wolf, they won't allow you on the boat and I know you want to go with Ireland."

Culann growled, his ears flattening. Scotland was sure Culann was probably cursing him but he had lost his ability to understand Culann ever since they were separated. The sun rose in the morning however it was a dark and rainy day again. Ireland awoke from the best sleep in a long time. He still looked sickly and pale but at least he was in better shape to travel. Ireland quickly dressed in some new clothes then grabbed the sack and lead Scotland prepared for him; ignoring his once again growling stomach. Outside he found his brother sitting on a stump smoking a pipe with Culann beside him tearing up a small dead vole.

Scotland stood up and helped adjust his shorter sibling's cloak as he advised, "stay off the main roads. I'm sure it won't be long before England realizes you're gone and he will hunt you down. From what I've heard from other soldiers, Kerry has the fastest boats to America."

Ordinarily, Ireland would be struggling against Scotland's nervous fiddling but he was just too tired and hungry. Kerry was a long way, away from where he was and he wondered how he was going to make the trip on foot. Scotland saw this and got an idea. He returned shortly towing his large Elk behind him. Ireland gasped seeing Scotland's creature again. As far as he had heard England wiped out all the Elks. Scotland must have kept him hidden for a while.

"Take Aodh here. He's swift and fast and you'll reach Kerry before nightfall." Scotland described as he helped his brother onto the large beast.

"But he's your pet…" Ireland protested taking the reins.

Scotland lovingly stroked his faithful pet's neck before looking back to Ireland, "I trust you'll take good care of him. Now go!"

With that Scotland smacked Aodh's hide making him take off in a spooked sprint into the woods. Ireland knew these lands off the back of his hand far better than England ever did. If England tried following him he'd surely get lost. Elks were much better at navigating through thick woods than horses. Their thin legs allowed quickly agility over the damp ground. Culann ran along side Ireland keeping his nose towards the air in case of any attackers near by. Any on lookers would have seen the ghostly sight of a supposedly extinct Elk with a country riding on its back and if any stayed too long the last thing they saw was a giant wolf leaping at them with teeth bared.

It was about high noon when Scotland reached Ireland's boarder to go back home. He was just about to board the ferry home when suddenly ten English guards grabbed him from behind and dragged him away with a brown bag over his head so he couldn't see. Scotland thrashed about trying to hopefully attack his kidnappers however they were very good at dodging those attacks and kept a good hold on him. Ten minutes after of mishandling, Scotland was thrown to his knees once again in front of England. The bag was yanked off his head ruffling his brown locks. England leaned back against the table with an evil smile on his face and a glass of English red wine in his hand.

He took a sip keeping that smile. England was dressed in the royal guard uniform as Wales stood in the corner watching this. She didn't do anything wrong yet standing there she felt like a traitor.

"So where's my 'big brother' run off to then? Hmm? I can't help but think there's a coincidence there that I let you visit your poor sick brother in his time of need and the next thing I know, I'm receiving reports from my guards that he's gone. I'm surprised you didn't go with him but I'm sure you know where he's going." England said, his words dripping with sarcasm. Scotland had to wonder if he actually knew or not.

England drew his rapier and held it under Scotland's chin, tilting his head up ever so slightly to look into England's cold green eyes. Wales stiffened. She knew her younger brother was capable of killing Scotland, especially from that position. The Welsh girl wanted Scotland to tell the truth so England wouldn't kill him but at the same time Ireland really needed to escape England's tyranny or else he would surely die.

"I'll never tell you." Scotland boldly stated knowing his life was on the line.

The blonde sighed almost sympathetically, "I do hate liars." He suddenly raised his sword to strike but Wales ran over and grabbed his arm then managed to wrestle the blade out of his hand. In rage, England threw his older sister to the floor and a circle of guards formed around the two countries.

"Please don't kill him!" Wales cried sitting up on slightly.

"…I see where your loyalties still lie sister. Fine then if you wish to defend them, you can join them." England looked at his guards and pointed at her, silently ordering them to pick her up. "But of course you must be punished."

Hearing that, the two Celtic countries began struggling as England drew a small dagger. England ordered his guards to force her head down onto the table and then with a gloved hand he reached into Wales's mouth and gripped her tongue out firmly. He pressed it on the table before taking the blade and cutting half her tongue out from her mouth. Wales screamed in pain with blood pouring from what remained of her tongue. Scotland watched in horror as several guards stood around him holding him down.

"Take her to the doctors and get her cleaned up then strip of her possessions. Can't have my new servant dying on me now can I?" England ordered as he carelessly tossed the pink tongue remains to his pet dogs. It was time for the hunt.

Just as Scotland had said, Aodh got Ireland to the outskirts of Kerry's port just before nightfall. After such a hard night's ride, Ireland literally fell off Aodh onto the soft woodland ground. It hurt a lot more than he thought as a groan of pain escaped his mouth. Aodh weakly walked over to the nearby river before lying down and taking a good long drink. Culann soon arrived as well and practically jumped in the cool water taking in massive gulps. Once he had his fill, he climbed out, shook his fur dry then helped Ireland to the water to drink as well. After a well-deserved drink Ireland rolled onto his back and stared at the emerging stars.

It was so tempting to just sleep there but no doubt by now England realized he was gone and he had to move quickly. With the best of help from Culann, Ireland stood up and walked over to Aodh who stood by waiting for orders. Ireland slowly approached and rested his head against the Scotland's pet.

"Thank you so much Aodh." He said quietly. "Now go back home."

Aodh nodded and began walking back the way they came. Ireland knew Aodh was the smartest Elk and would make it back safely. He then turned to Culann and pulled the lead from his sack. "I'm sorry Culann, I know you'll hate this."

Faster than Culann could protest Ireland looped the lead around his neck and secured it firmly. Culann struggled with loud growls and claws extended but Scottish rope was nearly impossible to break. After a little while and some promises, Culann stopped struggling and pretended to be Ireland's dog just till they got on the boat. As they approached the pier it became clear everyone had the same idea as he did. Tens of thousands of Irish waited around the docks looking for a boat to either America or Canada but there were talks about of some going to Scotland and even Australia. Some were surprisingly considered going to England.

But Ireland was not here to judge. He like his people was starving and needed to get free. They all recognized him and he was scheduled for the next boat leaving to America. Culann hated being surrounded by so many people. Especially little kids who thought he looked cute and would run up to him to pet him. Ireland owed him big time for this. They stopped at a local pub and with a few coins Ireland had left; he bought a small meal for he and Culann to share. Just as they finished and prepared to go, suddenly there was a lot clip clopping heard from outside the town followed by blaring horns.

The Irish country knew immediately what that meant. England found him. Ireland and Culann immediately ran into the crowded port looking for a place to hide. No doubt if England caught them, he'd be forced back home with a major punishment. Culann suddenly dragged Ireland into a twisting alleyway and they used the back roads to get to their ship. Somehow England managed to catch up and was hot on their tails. He suddenly stopped just as Ireland was clearing the last alley and drew a crossbow.

With careful aim he managed to shoot Ireland in the leg just as he climbed onto the McCorkell boat. Ireland cried in pain falling on the boat with a loud thud. Seeing this, the captain quickly ordered his sailors to pull the ramp in to prevent England from getting on board. Thankfully they got all the passengers on board and set sail. The captain wasn't all too happy about having a wolf on board but Ireland convinced him to let Culann stay. Just before they took him down to get his leg fixed Ireland climbed to one leg and watched as they departed from the port. England sat there on his horse watching with a very angry expression. He and his men turned to leave at which point Ireland collapsed from exhaustion and pain.

The boat journey was very long and miserable. Culann had wonder if it was doing Ireland more harm than good. Food was scarce and soon diseases began spreading. As agreed with the captain, Ireland shared half his food rations with Culann though Culann rarely took it to keep Ireland in better shape. He'd just wait till nightfall to catch some stupid birds that landed on the deck. It took about a month and a half to make the perilous journey across the sea to America. Many died before they could even reach New York with a mortality rate of 30%. Ireland was very lucky. But he too grew feverish and his once spritely red hair was now mired black. Culann did his best to once again take care of him. During the day he'd retrieve Ireland's portion of food and water and then during the night he'd sleep next to him to get Ireland warm.

England was going to pay for this and Culann was sure as hell he was going to keep Ireland alive to make that happen. They arrived in America and Ireland received a new lease of life finally free from England. He was so happy seeing Ellis Island. Inside the large grand hall thousands of emigrants stood in line to go through customs. Ireland simply showed the magic tattoo on his wrist of a Celtic designed clover and he was allowed through. He wondered though why so many people had to change their names. There was one more ferry to board and then he finally reached New York. The city was nothing like he could ever imagine.

But this energy didn't last long. His sickness soon caught up with him and he began stumbling through the paved streets. Culann knew he had little time left and he seriously needed help.

"Ireland this way!" Culann said dragging his companion by the sleeve. Culann lead him to a quieter part of the city and hid him in some bushes.

The black wolf then took off into the city searching for America himself. It was a long shot and he didn't know if America could help or not but he was the only one he could really trust right now. Culann kept sniffing the air. He didn't know what America smelled like but he knew all countries smelled slightly different from their occupants. Unfortunately this method led him to several other migrating countries such as Poland, Italy and many others. Just as he was about to give up and return to his dying friend, Culann found him.

America was sitting at a white table sipping some coffee and going on about how awesome he was to Canada. Culann barked loudly trying his hardest to tell America to follow him. It didn't take long to find out America was dumb as a brick.

"Aww what a cute doggy!" He beamed as Canada shook beside him scared of the giant wolf standing in their yard.

Culann growled loudly before spotting a bag of hamburgers* beside the table. Clearly this country loved that strange sandwich and Culann got an idea. He quickly grabbed the bag and ran off. Just as planned, America chased him down. Canada ran behind him expressing in his quiet manner how this was such a bad idea. Soon Culann arrived back at Ireland and sat up with the bag in front as he kept gesturing to the fallen country. The last thing Ireland remembered seeing was the sky and then the last thing he remembered feeling was America's strong arms picking him up.

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><p><strong>*Yes I know Hamburgers were not invented yet but they're kind of an iconic thing for America and I couldn't think of a substitute that would fit.<strong>

**So what did you think? Please review! Reviews are like shots of adrenaline ****lol. ****Saw a friend do this so I'll do this as well. Bit late I know.**

**_SoraChiistar-_ _Teehee thanks! I hope you enjoy the rest of it!_**

**_haganeno56- This helped encourage me a lot! I love reading that people want me to continue so thanks! ^_^_**

**_EvanescingSky- Thanks! I'd imagine it would have been very awkward at the time. As for Wales, yeah I agree she is the most caring. I took what you said and applied it here with how she's the most gentle but only to an extent._**


	5. Irish American

_I am sooooooo sorry this took so long to get out. I really have to thank the new people who added my story to their Watch which motivated me to get this next chapter out! And to those who keep reviewing. Anyways bit of a short chapter for now but I promise you the next one will be much longer and much more epic!_

_Hetalia does not belong to me etc. etc. _

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><p>Ireland opened his eyes and stared at the white ceiling. A faint beeping sound was heard followed by the sound of a pump. It was then Ireland noticed he had a mask covering his mouth and nose with a long tube pumping air into his lungs. The country weakly managed to reach up and pull the mask off. He glanced down at his arms and noted the several bandages with needles sticking out that were connected to various thin tubes feeding nutrients into his malnourished body. Little by little Ireland gained more muscle control. The raven-haired man had no idea how long he had been asleep, nor recalled how he got here. The sound of footsteps drew his attention towards the door. A shy blonde country wandered in carrying a bowl of hot water with a cloth. Ireland began to remember him slightly from what he could describe as fuzzy dreams; those moments when he slipped in and out of consciousness.<p>

"Who are you?" Ireland asked.

"I'm Canada…" The blonde answered softly with a hint of sadness.

"Oh! France's boy right?"

Immediately Canada perked up. It was so rare that other countries remembered who he was and rarer still that they knew some of his history. He instantly liked Ireland. "Yes that's right but now I'm all grown up and standing on my own!"

Ireland smiled but this small burst of energy didn't last long and he was forced to relax again. His entire body ached. Canada could see he was tired but at the same time this was the first time he was fully conscious so he knew he should tell America.

"I'll go tell America you're awake."

"Wait… real quick… How long have I been asleep?" Ireland managed to ask.

"Oh for a very long time, nearly six months now. But don't worry, we've taken good care of you and your wolf." Canada shook slightly mentioning Culann. Ireland could only imagine the hard time he gave all them. "I'll… tell him too… he's rarely left your side."

"Thanks…" And with that Ireland fell asleep again. A few hours later he awoke to find the room full of people leaning over him. As soon as he opened his eyes they all let out a sigh of relief.

"DUDE YOU'RE ALIVE!" America shouted suddenly hugging Ireland tightly. Everyone quickly pried the excited country off him to avoid any more injuries. Ireland coughed in pain as he shot a glare at the large country. He then felt something furry against his hand and looked down to find Culann resting his head there. The large wolf looked so relieved to see his companion alive and well.

"You had us all quite worried!" Italy exclaimed.

Poland nodded in agreement, "You were so ill and weak we were afraid you weren't going to pull through."

A small smile crept on Ireland's face. He barely knew these countries, he wouldn't even consider them friends, and yet they were all so worried for him and took care of him whilst he was in need. Ireland never really had friends before. It was always him and his siblings so it felt nice being cared for by others not of your own kin. "Thank you all… so much…" Ireland expressed. "But I have to get back to my home… My siblings are still under England's tyranny…" Ireland attempted to slide out of bed but the moment his feet touch the cold floor his knees buckled and he fell. Everyone swooped in to catch the fallen country and help him back onto the bed.

"Sorry dude, you're in no condition to go anywhere." America explained. Poland agreed.

"America's right. You should take this time to replenish your strength so you can take on England."

"Yes which means you get to be Italian for a little while. Drink a lot, sleep a lot and most of all eat a lot of pasta!" The eccentric country squealed.

As much as it pained him to agree, they were all right. Ireland could barely stand now there was no way he'd even survive the boat trip home much less fight England single handedly. But he made a solemn oath that the moment he was well enough to fight, he'd leave immediately. The sound of bickering broke his thoughts. It seemed the countries began fighting over which was the best food to get better; all of which sounded gross to the older country. "Do you happen to have any haggis or blood sausage?" Ireland asked. That's what he was really craving right now.

All the countries stopped arguing and stared at him. They had never heard of such dishes.

"What's Haggis? Is it a type of pasta?" Italy beamed.

"Erm no…"

"No of course it's a type of hamburger am I right?" America jeered. Ireland shook his head.

"Perogis?" Poland added.

"Its sheep intestines stuffed in a sheep's stomach and boiled." Ireland finally explained.

Immediately all their faces dropped. Sure they each had their strange dishes but to them that sounded gross. And after that they didn't really want to know what Blood Sausage was either.

"Erm… how about a nice hamburger instead?" Out of nowhere a Hamburger appeared in America's hand as he handed it to the other country. Ireland took the strange round sandwich, examining it closely before taking a bite. His face puckered slightly from the greasy taste. Sure it wasn't AS BAD as England's food but that wasn't saying a whole lot. It was supposedly ground up cow between two pieces of bread with some salad and cheese but all Ireland could taste was grease. Unfortunately he realized this was all the large country ate and since now he lived in his home, this is what he would be eating. America was boasting about his cooking giving Ireland time to shoot a glance to the other immigrant countries who all shared the disgusted expression of the burger.

"Alright Ireland needs his rest so everyone out," the tough yet beautiful country of Hungary ordered as she entered the room with a change of clothes for Ireland.

It was then Ireland noticed he was dressed in a simple white gown. Wasn't really to his liking but it was better than those ratty clothes he had arrived in. Everyone save Culann left as Hungary crossed the room. Once she was sure America was out of hearing range (which wasn't far) from the folds of the clothes she slipped out a wrapped plate of Blood Sausage just for Ireland.

"We make a similar dish back home and I figured you might like some to wash that burger taste out." She said with a smile as she handed him the plate. "Sorry if it's not the same. Different ingredients here."

Ireland's smile grew as he took the plate and the clothes. She was so nice. Just before eating he decided to inspect the new outfit. It consisted of a pair of black trousers with a white shirt that buttoned up to his neck and then a beautiful green with gold swirling trimmings along the edge. The materials felt so soft. A second outfit lay beneath which was just a simple white shirt with a black cotton jacket and black cotton pants.

"America likes having us countries show off who we are. I altered his original design for you greatly…" Hungary explained with an annoyed vein popping out of her head at the thought of America's original, "TEAM AMERICA" themed costumes. Ireland didn't like the implications of her expression. He had only known America for a few hours total now but already he got a grasp for what kind of person he was.

"Um I don't mean to be rude but I thought you had red hair…" Hungary suddenly asked breaking Ireland's thoughts.

Ireland looked up at her curiously not sure what she meant. He grabbed a long strand of hair and examined its now darkened color. There was touch of red still left just under the sunlight. "I guess I have raven hair now…" Ireland said quietly.

But Hungary only giggled, "Well I think it looks really cool with your blue eyes. Like a pale phantom."

And for the first time in many, many years Ireland laughed. I guess he really did look like a phantom. Any paler and he'd be see-through. Hungary laughed as well. She could tell he hadn't done that in a while. So then began Ireland's life in America. Once he was strong enough, Ireland got a job in the industry helping America expand to match Britain. He found out he was pretty strong compared to everyone else, except America, and soon he worked his way up to a high status. He watched as America boomed in numbers from so many immigrants coming in from Europe to escape their hard life styles. Small communities began forming within New York City ranging from Little Italy to even a small yet growing Irish community. And as the years went on Ireland began returning to his former self with a few changes.

Without Scotland being around to help control his anger, Ireland learned to suppress those feelings and unleash them in other ways such as in work or fighting. He trained hard preparing to fight to the death for his siblings' freedom. His English greatly improved and he was almost as fluent as America whilst still keeping his Irish brogue. And despite carrying the knowledge of the suffering of his siblings he found he was able to set that to the side sometimes and relax. Culann seemed to relax a little too. The wolf had become less of a predator and more of a pet; though he'd never admit that he enjoyed the pampering. However one thing deeply troubled both of them. Ireland tried many times to send letters to both Wales and Scotland yet he never received any replies. He had a sickening feeling England was confiscating them but on the off chance he wasn't, he kept writing. It was then he wished Scotland could see his faerie friends. If that were to be he'd just send them. Late at night he particularly loved his faeries. They'd keep him company when he felt so alone and always knew how to make him smile.

And then one fateful day in 1912, April 17th, all the countries in America were eagerly waiting at the docks for the arrival of the infamous Titanic. Ireland particularly since his people helped build it back in Belfast. He heard so much about the amazing ship he wanted to greet and congratulate the men personally. But the ship was late. Something felt wrong. The countries waited and waited for hours but no sign of the large ship. They tried making excuses that weather could have slowed them down and stuff. They all went to bed that night feeling uneasy. Early the next morning they were all woken up when a ship pulled in carrying loads of extra passengers And then they all heard the tragic news. The unsinkable ship had hit an iceberg and sank. Ireland suddenly felt really sick along with a few of the other countries along with him.

They knew that feeling very well. When there was a mass death of their people they could feel. Flaky, vague reports slowly came in over the next few days, which only made the tragedy worse. Ireland was probably hit the hardest hearing how most of lower class, his people, were trapped inside and didn't make it out at all. And of course the Captain was English. This made his blood boil. Sure England wouldn't have purposely made all those dumb mistakes just to screw Ireland over but in that moment it felt like that. And it seemed like the fates were on his side. England was coming over to see the survivors himself.

"Ireland listen to me, you need to stay calm." Culann said sitting on Ireland's bed watching the fuming country pace.

"HE KILLED ME PEOPLE! He has my siblings captive and I've done nothing but sit around here!" Ireland barked. "And of all people I thought you'd be able to understand this best!"

Culann didn't like that comment and with a growl he suddenly lunged at Ireland and pinned him to the floor. "I do understand! But trying to attack England now will only get you killed! Believe me I want nothing more than the bastard dead too but here is not the place! We get him later!"

The two ancient friends glared at each other, anger burning in their eyes. But Ireland knew Culann was yet again right. Ireland didn't want to be the one to ruin this time of remorse with a personal vendetta. The fire faded from his blue eyes and he just sighed. Culann climbed off his companion before lying down beside. He could feel Ireland's pain and frustration radiating from his body. Uncharacteristically Culann nuzzled his arm. Ireland smiled.

"This won't be pleasant…" Ireland whispered just playing out seeing his former brother again. England arrived a few days later. Almost immediately America served him a plate of hamburgers, which England just subtly dismissed. The two sat talking for some time and then America was called away for a moment leaving Ireland and England alone. Tension was thick as the two just glared at each other from across the room. Culann let out a low growl but Ireland just scratched his head hoping to calm the black wolf. Ireland and England stood together.

"Good to see you're doing well brother." England said dripping with sarcasm. Both Ireland and Culann stifled a growl. They wanted nothing more than to rip England to shreds right then and there. The red head chose to remain silent seeing where the younger country was taking this. England then proceeded a stack of letters from his coat pocket before throwing them at Ireland's chest. Ireland immediately recognized the address- his letters to Scotland and Wales. They were opened but Ireland had a sickening feeling they hadn't read them.

"I can't wait to tell your poor siblings how you're living out here like a King, by your standards, while they're being worked like dogs." England smirked.

"DAMN YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" Ireland screamed lunging at England. At that moment, America returned with a plate of hamburgers before quickly dropping the plate and holding Ireland and Culann back. England simply laughed and walked away.

"I WILL BE BACK AND I SWEAR I'LL MAKE YOU PAY!"

Ireland screamed at the top of his lungs. England's laughter merely resounded off the walls. Ireland screamed in rage as he jerked out of America's grip and began destroying the surrounding furniture. Once everything was demolished Ireland fell on his knees panting hard from exhaustion. His knuckles were bruised and bloody from the treatment. America stood still in the corner sensing the intense anger radiating off the older country's body. It almost scared him. He felt the room grow cold and dark and there seemed to be dark aura forming around the raven-head. It reminded him very much of Russia's presence.

"Hey Ireland… buddy?" America asked cautiously as he slowly approached.

Culann shot him a warning glance to be careful. Ireland rolled his shoulders back as he stood; the darkness dissipating a little. "I'm going back home tomorrow." He announced before storming off to his room. America was afraid to stop him. He glanced down at Culann and the two shared a worried expression. Culann chased after his friend to help pack. America shuddered finally. He knew Ireland dabbled in magic, he had taught him some, but what he feared here was that Ireland was dipping into Dark magic. Ireland warned him about the dangers of Dark Magic. He looked up and said a silent prayer for everyone's sake.

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><p><em>DUN DUN DUN! I like cliffhangers lol. But anyways please review! Your reviews really encourage me to keep going and let me know what to improve. And since we're nearing the end I've been thinking about kind of starting a mini one-shot series involving Ireland stuff. Like random, funny shorts I couldn'tdidn't include in the series such as Ireland introducing England to his faerie friends while Scotland and Wales think they're both insane. Lemme know if you think I should go for it or not!_

_~PokingAngel_


	6. Revolution

**A/N Look an update! Yay! Lol. Sorry about lack of updates. I've been very busy lately with work an other projects. I'm moving to Australia August 13th but my aim is to finish any and all current fan fictions I have going including this one. (I have about two others I'm working on as well which why its taking longer). But there should be only one more chapter after.**

**Anyways enjoy. A bit of a short one this time but I promise you really good with no history lessons**

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><p>Dark clouds rumbled over the once lush green lands of the Emerald Isle as Ireland stepped off the boat clutching nothing but a small rucksack slung over his shoulder and pure bloodlust burning in his eyes. He was ready for the fight. The black haired country had enough of being pushed around by England and with his empire failing this was the perfect time to strike. A new lease of life crackled across the land once Ireland stepped on the Irish soil after many a long years.<p>

War was in the air and soon his people began banding together. Hatred and anger fueled them as they began building their make shift army. Riots began breaking out all over the once considered peaceful country. One by one they began driving the British back from their stolen homes. Armed with their simple farmer tools and British guns they took from soldiers in a matter of years they forced England back to his home in Belfast.

"Sir! Its Ireland! He's breached out defenses!" A panic-stricken soldier screamed.

Scotland and Wales gasped and lifted their heads in shock. Since Ireland had lift they were forced to be England's personal slaves. Hearing of their brother's return they were overjoyed. But a dark chuckle from England's deepened voice disturbed that euphoria.

"About bloody time the bugger returned to face me." England drew his large broad sword and smiled staring into his reflection before tilting it to see his two servants on their knees weighed down by heavy shackles. While they were scared he could see the glimmer of hope in their eyes. His fangs bared, "Don't think I don't see that hope. You two aren't going anywhere." He lowered his blade to shoot them an unsettling glance.

"Guards! Prepare my weapons! I want to take the bastard on myself. And bring those two. I want them to witness the fall of their beloved brother." England ordered stepping off his throne.

As they approached the gates of England's palace, Culann suddenly jumped in front of Ireland. "Ireland, wait, please! I know you want revenge but I smell something very bad in there!"

Ireland simply glared at his life long friend, "So what you want me to turn back and run away like a dog with its tail between my legs?"

"Well no but please! I can sense something bad is going to happen!" Culann warned.

"You're getting old dog, now I'm going in there to save my siblings with or without you." Ireland stormed past his wise friend before ordering his men to break down the door with a huge battering ram they made out of a chopped down tree.

More rain beat down as they entered the courtyard. There in the middle stood England with a smug smile plastered on his face, wearing a lavish red and white outfit. His men stood behind him, guns raised waiting for their order to attack. Scotland and Wales were bound tightly and held by two of England's men right in Ireland's line of sight. Lightning cracked the sky illuminating the fire lit courtyard.

"Welcome brother!" England said with an almost genuine smile as he raised his arms as if to embrace.

"You're no brother of mine…" Ireland seethed shooting a glance at his siblings. Though dark he could just see into Wale's mouth and see how she was now missing a tongue. He looked to Scotland and could see the dark bruises on his skin from where he was multiply beaten probably for defiance. England chuckled; he knew what was going through the Irishman's head. The horrific thoughts he was composing.

"ATTACK!" Ireland shouted at the top of his lungs to his makeshift army.

"Kill them all." England ordered. "But the country is mine."

Both armies charged towards each other across the courtyard as England and Ireland made their own way to battle. It appeared it was going to be a simple sword duel, something Ireland had become quite skilled in, however at the last second England drew a strange smaller gun.

"No!" Culann shouted killing off his latest victim. He ran towards his life long companion and then there was a loud bang-

-Followed by a loud whimper.

The entire battle froze upon hearing the gunshot. Ireland blinked not sure what exactly happened. He looked down at his body expecting to see blood but there wasn't even a single scratch. And then a second whimper drew his attention to ground. Blood poured profusely from Culann's neck…

"No… no, no, no, no, no!" Ireland cried falling to his knees beside his best friend. "Culann… why…? And after I treated you so horribly…"

All Culann could manage to do was glance back at Ireland with his fading red eye. His mouth moved as if to answer but only sharp shallow breathing was made. The raven head could not believe the great and mighty wolf Culann was brought down by a single gunshot. A second wind entered Culann and he managed drag himself onto his front two paws before flopping his head down onto Ireland's lap as his other paw managed to wrap around his waist. It was the only way he could tell Ireland he did it because he loved him.

The country's body shook as he slowly wrapped his arms around the wolf's large head before weeping loudly into his black fur. His rage had blinded him so much so he ended up losing his oldest and dearest friend. Wales buried her face in Scotland's shoulder as tears rolled down her face whilst Scotland lowered his head. All of Ireland's troops did the same. And then… Culann's paw slipped from Ireland's waist and his eyes slowly closed.

"No… Culann don't leave me damnit! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Ireland screamed feeling the wolf's body gain in weight. "AHHHHH!"

"Tch… what a pathetic sight." England stated as he loaded his pistol.

Ireland froze with his dark hair covering his eyes. The atmosphere in the courtyard soon began shifting; swelling with darkness and pain. Ireland's arms slipped from around his pet's neck as he stood.

"Ireland…" Scotland breathed in a warning tone. This wasn't good.

His army began backing away, quivering in fear. There was clearly something wrong. Even England's men began to feel uneasy. Though his expression was hidden by his darkening black hair, a haunting muttering began to echo throughout the courtyard; an ancient yet foul language.

"IRELAND NO!" His younger brother shouted loudly as he began to fight his captor's grip again.

A strange red circle with unique shapes and characters spread out from Ireland's feet before there was a bright flash and a copy of the circle shot under England's form holding him completely still. It was at this point England began to panic. While his older siblings recognized it instantly, it took the blonde country that moment to realize Ireland was using a greatly forbidden spell of Black Magic: a hex, which would kill its victim very slowly and painfully. But then after that it would grab the person's soul and drag it straight to Hell. Even though he was starting to stray from the church, England still feared Hell and to think his brother, despite everything he had done to him, was going to send him there petrified the youngest sibling.

The spell got louder and louder as black tendrils grew from the edge of Ireland's circle. England willed every muscle in his body to move however he couldn't even bat an eyelash.

"Br…o…ther…" England managed to breath out in fear and desperation.

Instantly the guards released Scotland and Wales to try and free their leader allowing Scotland to charge straight for Ireland. His eyes burned red and a black aura fluxed around him. Wales looked up at her big brother with a worried expression asking, 'what should we do?' Scotland knew what she was "referring" to. If they tried stopping Ireland from completing the spell now he could in turn lose his soul. On the other hand, while he had been an ass to them, they couldn't let Ireland take England's life. Unfortunately the world could collapse without his influence.

Plus there was no telling what would happen to Ireland. It was a spell he had crafted himself that had only been used on animals. Another flash of red light drew their attention back to their brothers. The tendrils began slowly making their way towards England. Scotland saw this as an opportunity and took it. He suddenly lunged right to his brother pushing him over and out of the circle. Ireland shrieked loudly as the spell was broken and England released. But then he just suddenly passed out under Scotland.

Wales ran to his side and rapidly shook her brother. She prayed he wasn't dead. Scotland sat up and held his brother his arms shaking him too. And then Ireland's eyes opened. Scotland and Wales were elated but that euphoria quickly melted when they stared into the now hollow pale blue eyes of their brother. England's men ran to their ruler's aid and helped him up. That fear was now turned into rage.

"Lock them up! All of them!" He barked climbing to his feet.

Scotland and Wales struggled as they were torn away from their helpless brother, as he was dragged away not even attempting to fight. He was just a empty shell now and England was going to enjoy taking his revenge for nearly sending him to Hell.

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><p><strong>AN**

***ducks from flying knives from Culann fans* DON'T KILL ME!**

**New chapter will be up before August! Hopefully!**


	7. The Queen's Speech

_A/N: WOOHOO FINAL CHAPTER! *shot for long time wait*_

_I know, I know. I'm so sorry this took such a long time to finish. I started working on a sequel to my novel and yeah got distracted from this. Anywho, it is now finished however I will begin the short one-shots. That should be much easier to update as they'll be less history based and more stereotype based. Plus they don't have to be super long. Hope you enjoy! Remember that this isn't 100% accurate though I tried my best._

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><p>Pale hollow blue eyes and torn cap; that was all that was what was left of Ireland that could be distinguishably his. The country had lost his soul and was now just a walking, barely talking shell. Really the only thing he seemed to be able to say was, "yes sir" and "sorry". It was a pitiful sight but England took advantage of every minute of it. England had his clothes burned and had him dressed in an itchy slave outfit. Sometimes when he felt very cruel he dressed him up in the girl's uniform. But Ireland never complained and just did everything he was ordered.<p>

It made Scotland sick to watch. His once hot-headed brother was not only taking England's shit but also eating it. He tried so many times to snap his brother out of this coma with each attempt only appearing to make Ireland worse. Even when they burned Culann's body for respect, Ireland barely bat an eyelash.

"We have to do something." Scotland whispered to Wales one night after they finally finished their work.

Wales quickly nodded before writing in her little notebook about a plan she had. Thankfully whilst she couldn't speak, she retained her knowledge of Welsh so she could still write it. And Scotland knew most of it since it was basically derived from Gaelic. 'We should find Ireland's magic books. I think he'll have something on how to reverse this.' Scotland looked at Ireland who just entered the room with his uniform torn and body battered with bruises. He could only assume England got into one of his rage moods and took it out on Ireland.

"That sounds like a good idea." Scotland turned to face Ireland before helping him into his night clothes then put him to bed. The three countries were forced to share a small hut together. England must have thought they were too weak at this point to consider escaping… sadly he wasn't that far off from the truth. If the two tried leaving, Ireland wouldn't follow and more than likely would be killed as punishment. Once the black haired country was asleep Scotland knelt down just in front of Ireland's bed and pulled up three floor boards; just big enough to fit through. Each night Wales and Scotland would work to dig a small tunnel just into the forest.

Scotland made sure it was safe though using his rune magic to seal the walls from collapsing. Finally after several years they managed to dig all the way to Ireland's house. It didn't take long to find the books. The two countries decided it would probably be best to take the books back with them so they could have more time to study before England noticed they were gone. They got back just as the morning rooster called the staff to their duties. Wales and Scotland were exhausted but they managed to work through the day trying to keep suspicions down. Every night after they finished their chores they read and practiced the spells diligently to save their friend from further humiliation.

England was becoming more and more cruel to the doe-eyed country. Just for a laugh he had him dress up in one of France's French Maid Outfits This wasn't the first time but England came so close to turning Ireland into his next sex scandal. It was horrible. Scotland came so close to strangling the blonde bastard. He had broken into the room and began beating England with all his strength. He didn't care about the several lashings he received as punishment. Ireland didn't deserve this!

Another time Wales saved his life after England decided to see how long he'd survive amongst his starving dogs. She too received lashings for ruining his fun but again she didn't care. Finally in 1919, Scotland and Wales felt ready to cast the spell. Stress was brewing in Europe with the threat of war beginning to loom which meant England was getting distracted. There finally came a day he was away from home long enough to give them plenty of time. They worked hard and fast setting up every single detail according to Ireland's books. The circle was drawn with Irish chalk in a perfect 12-inch circle with 13 lines radiating from a central hexagon.

Runes and Gaelic lettering were written around the outside of the circle then Ireland was placed with his heart just over the hexagon; careful not to erase the chalk. Seven Candles were then placed around his body; two for his feet, two for his hands, one of this head then two either side his stomach. Scotland then took a deep breath as he took out some magic powder and blew it over his brother causing the candles to spark.

"Please… return to me…"

There was no special incantation for this. The only thing his books said for him to do was to ask him to return in a loving voice. Scotland missed his brother dearly. The circle and candles were just a guide for Ireland to find his way back to his body but the true power came from the love from Scotland and Wales. A single tear rolled down his face hitting the circle. Suddenly the wind began to pick up inside the closed room. Wales gently pulled her brother back just in case something had gone wrong. The chalk began to blow away and join the whirlwind of smoke swirling above Ireland's body.

The black haired country suddenly took in a deep breath as the white smoke flew into his body. He bolted straight up knocking over the flameless candles. His eyes were no longer hollow but now a vibrant blue and flecks of red could be seen through his hair. He sat panting for a moment confused as to what just happened before he glanced up at his two siblings who were holding their breaths.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WERE YOU TWO THINKING LETTING THAT LOUSY EXCUSE FOR A COUNTRY PUT ME IN A DRESS?!" He barked.

Two wide smiles stretched across the Celtic siblings' faces as they fell to their knees hugging their long lost brother. He was back and feistier than ever. Seeing the strength renewed within their sibling also renewed theirs. They had drive again to fight for their homes. But this time they weren't going charge head on. England was still too strong compared to them. However World War II was on the horizon. America, England, Russia, France and China had banded together against the newly formed Axis Powers consisting of Italy, Germany and Japan. For the moment, the Celts were left out of the whole mess. This gave them time to plot. Many of their people had continued fighting while they were in captivity, which gave them a few ideas.

So for their first demonstration, Ireland began blowing up all the English biscuit factories across his home. This caught England's attention almost immediately. Scotland began sending hate filled messages to annoy his once younger brother while Wales continued to re-build her home's language in the hopes of confusing him. It wasn't long before England's reign began cracking. All this little random attacks were turning out to be worse than just a straight up war. He particularly bean to fear the new group Ireland formed under the name the IRA. They were very good at sending messages.

They picked key buildings to destroy and while they sometimes made sure there were no causalities, just the sheer fear alone was enough to get their message across of how easy it was going to be. England sent a few forces to try and stop his revolting Celtic siblings however Ireland was relentless. He still bared that hatred for killing Culann yet being trapped in that shell for a few years provided him the strength to keep it under control making him a deadly force.

It took some time but Ireland managed to force the English back to the Northern half of his island. England had, had enough of this beating and decided to march over there and settle this once and for all. On May 3rd, 1921, along the new border between Northern Ireland and South Ireland, the two countries stood glowering at each other hoping the other would suddenly combust from the intensity of their gaze. While that was not the case, the atmosphere was thick was anger and malice. However the roles seemed to have reversed since their last confrontation. Since then England had lost nearly all his control over his large empire and the war made him look very tired and small.

Meanwhile Ireland was fired up and ready for a fight. He had grown in strength in such a short amount of time. Scotland and Wales stood by his side but only for support. This was his fight. It was time everything be settled. Besides, if Ireland was actually nice and left anything of England, they'd gladly help pick him off.

"Its time you paid for your crimes England! You've gone on long enough without punishment. You stole our homes, you forced us into slavery… YOU KILLED CULANN!" Ireland shook was the pain slapped him hard again from his best friend's death. Scotland placed a comforting hand on Ireland's shoulder to calm him down which actually worked. He released a huge breath but that fire still burned in his eyes.

England swallowed hard but said nothing. He was still a proud country despite his diminishing kingdom. Deep down he did began to regret all those things but had too much pride to admit he did wrong. And there was still a part of him that longed for control; that part that Ancient Rome had instilled thousands of years ago. He was taught, no beaten into learning that a leader must be ruthless if he is to maintain control over his empire. But now thinking on it… Ancient Rome was strong and ruthless yet he still disappeared; covered in scars.

For the first time ever, England questioned Ancient Rome's teachings… especially seeing his three siblings, the very three countries that rescued and raised him as a baby, were standing against him battered and bruised from his hand. But that part was not ready to let go. He soon found his pistol in his hand again and before anyone could register, he had pulled the trigger. Ireland stumbled a little holding his head. He wasn't exactly sure what happened. He heard the gun shot and the next thing he knew he had an extreme headache forming. Red blood trickled down his face before he suddenly stumbled forward and fell flat on his face. Scotland and Wales screamed loudly as they ran to his side. England also slowly approached but stopped a few feet away where Ireland's trademark cap had fallen off.

England knelt down and picked the cap up before looking to his brother. There was a collective sigh of relief seeing the bullet had only grazed Ireland's head; just above his eyebrow.

"I… I'm…" England tried saying as he tightly clutched the cap.

"YOU COULD HAVE KILLED HIM!" Scotland barked standing up. "He hadn't even attacked yet and you nearly killed him!"

"Well he should be grateful I didn't! I think I'm being more than generous! I'm giving him back his freedom and leaving him alive! However I'm keeping this." The words hurt England to say and he didn't like saying them but he figured if he appeased these feelings of control inside him just a little they might settle. He clutched the cap tightly and began walking off. Thankfully, the wound was not fatal and Ireland recovered relatively quick. However he was left with a large scar just above his eye with his cap missing.

The anger was still there but Ireland was glad to finally have at least a most of his home returned. It became a slow process to rebuild his home. Scotland and Wales were still technically apart of England's home however they regained their own independence as well. By 1949, the Republic of Ireland was totally free from England's rule. While their terrorism towards their younger brother slowly dissipated, they continued a few attacks here and there to remind England not to ever try taking over them again.

However a remarkable thing happened. On May 18th, 2011, Queen Elizabeth the II, visited Ireland's home and in front of the entire world, gave a heart felt apology for what England had done to his siblings. Ireland sat in front of her and was truly amazed; especially when she opened her speech with his language. He glanced over to England who sat beside her staring at the floor. There was still hurt within in Ireland's heart but he could have sworn he saw the remorse in his younger brother's face. After the dinner, Ireland went looking for England. He found him leaning against the balcony looking on to the city of Dublin.

Ireland sighed as he slowly approached holding two glasses of whiskey in his hands. The noise caught England's attention but only enough to move his head a little. "Mind if I join you?" Ireland asked holding out the glass.

England looked at the glass then at his older brother. It looked as though tears were clinging to the corners of his eyes. Suddenly Ireland found England tightly wrapped around him in a strong hug causing Ireland to drop the crystal glasses. Ireland could then feel tears beginning to soak his shoulder. "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… for everything…" he quietly sobbed.

It was strange seeing England this way. He hadn't seen England cry since the country was a child. Slowly Ireland wound his arms around his younger brother's back. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as tears seemed to form for him as well. Both countries knew this wouldn't completely dispute all the pain built up over the centuries but it was a wonderful start. Scotland and Wales watched silently from the side with smiles as well. The moment seemed just perfect… that is till America walked by.

"ALL RIGHT YOU TWO MADE UP! GROUP HUG!" The larger country bounded over to them and gave them a huge, almost spine crushing squeeze.

"Get off you wanker!" Both countries simultaneously shouted.

America didn't seem to hear over the sound of his awesomeness causing Wales and Scotland to laugh. At least Ireland and England could agree on something.

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><p><em>AN: Cheesy end is Cheesy! I know but I couldn't resist. Lemme know what you thought. I might (MIGHT) go back and fix the story if I feel it didn't go as well but as of now I'm fairly happy with it. _

_Now as for the new One-Shot stories. I have a few up my sleeve, but if you have any suggestions, send me a PM. It can be just a one word probe or even just a random story idea. A few rules though. It has to be related to the Celts in some way (so featuring Ireland, Scotland or Wales), it has to be a short idea (so no huge epic quests) and the big one NO INCEST! I refuse to write an incest story with Ireland, Scotland, Wales or England. Any other pairings sure just none of them together. _


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