On this journey to the past

~*~ Chapter 1 ~*~
The Court of Queen Elizabeth, 1584
The room was too large to truly suffocate anyone, but to England it may as well have been a box. The mutterings and discussions of courtiers was tiring. He did his best to stand beside the throne and not embarrass his Queen. So there he stood, stock still, looking like any other nobleman and listening to the Spanish ambassador droll on and on.  The man would look to him every so often, no doubt recognizing precisely who he was. Spain certainly wasn’t forgetting any time soon since the last time they met on the ocean. England had been pleased to present that gold to his Queen. The look on Spain’s face had been worth more than that.
It took all of his discipline to stand still. However, he could not help looking about the throne room. Despite the array of candles lit about the room, sunlight poured in through tall windows of glass. The draperies of rose red matched the carpet that scrolled from the door to his Queen's throne. He was thankful for the chill offered from the large gray stones that the castle was crafted from. The room was hot and a concern burned in his breast for Elizabeth. It must be even worse for her as she was in layer upon layer of clothing that his monotheistic people deemed appropriate. He risked a glance down at Elizabeth and she glanced back at him with a small smile on her face. His lips twitched in a suppressed grin, she was as bored by the Spanish complaints about English pirates as he. She held up a pale hand to the men to silence them. She was about to open her mouth when a ruckus occurred at one end of the room, gaining her attention and England’s.
Striding brazenly down the middle of the room was a man with an entourage behind him and carrying chests. Two men, the likes of which England had never seen before, followed in the train looking terrified at all of the colorful fashions of court. The Spanish ambassador glared daggers at the man.
“You are not welcome here, pirate!” The man declared and moved to prevent the new arrival from coming any closer.
“Let him through.” commanded Elizabeth.
“Your Majesty, this man is…”
“He can tell me himself what he is.” she said, with a look that could wither greater men. England moved from his position behind the throne to stand beside it. Though there was no obvious threat to his Queen it put his mind at ease to place his body closer to hers. This arrival was a welcome diversion from the monotony of court life.
“I am an explorer, my Queen. I have come from a new world.” he said, bowing low.
“What is your name?”
“Walter Raleigh.” he replied. England had heard the name before while sifting through writs that the crown provided when funding explorations. Spain may have gotten to the New World first, but he was not going to get to lay claim to all of its wonders and riches.
He paraded some of the things he had brought with him from the New World, describing that he had proclaimed the land Virginia, in honor of the Queen. She joked that he would have to change the name when he took a husband. The court laughed. The Spanish ambassador was incensed that the man was getting such a reception.
“This man is a pirate!” he declared again, moving forward and standing beside Raleigh.
Raleigh looked at the other man, “I would consider the gold a gift from the Spanish ship, considering that I was so generous not to just sink her.” England ducked behind the throne and smothered a laugh. He liked this man. Elizabeth did not even bother to hide her mirth.
“You interest me, Mr. Raleigh.” she said. She held out her hand in England’s direction and he took it, kneeling by her side. She leaned in close, “Go and speak to him. Find out about this New World.” England nodded and walked down the steps to meet with him. He gestured that they should move away from the Spanish delegation, England certainly did not want Spain to know that there would soon be more competition than he could handle for the virgin lands on the other side of the ocean. He could feel Spain’s eyes burning into his back and he couldn’t help the smirk that lifted his lips in amusement. Daft Spaniard don’t you know that I will always get my way! he thought.
“Her Majesty wishes you to tell me about the New World.” he said, when they were out of earshot of other members of the court. Raleigh looked him up and down, clearly seeing nothing more than a young man that was barely older than a boy. England looked back at him, certain that his centuries would show in his eyes even if they did not in his body.
“Who are you?” Raleigh asked.
England smiled, “I am your nation. And I want to know about this New World.”
~*~
Raleigh was filled with stories that got England’s blood singing, what a grand place this new land must be! What kind of nations may dwell there? England listened to the stories until well after the torches had been lit and the stars took their place in the sky.
The corridors were dark, yet comfortable, as he made his way towards the Queen’s chambers to tell her what he had learned. To encourage her, as Raleigh wanted, to send him back across the sea. And this time, England was determined to be on board the ship.
Coming around a corner quickly he slammed straight into someone.
“I apo---”
“An apology, how delightful, oui?”
“Good God, when did you get here?!” England exclaimed, moving as far back from France as possible. The other nation grinned. He leaned against the wall, clad in the best of the recent fashions, his breeches and waist coat trimmed to accentuate his body. England adjusted his own waistcoat, realizing that he’d wrinkled his clothing throughout the evening of conversation.
“And here your Queen claims to be the Defender of the Faith and her own nation blasphemes.”  France tutted.
“You’re hardly one to talk!” England bit back the profanity that was swelling in his throat.
“Perhaps I did not come here to talk.” France teased, reaching for him.
“Be serious!” England said, swatting the hand away.
France chuckled and continued to smile even when England glared at him. He sighed and said, “In that case, Angleterre, I arrived here not long ago. My King has some things to discuss with your Queen and he only trusted me to carry the letter.” He pulled a sealed paper from his tunic, the wax seal of the King of France overlarge on it. He walked past England and waved the piece of parchment close to him.  England was unable to hide the annoyance that was surely painted across his features. As always the French country was dressed in obnoxious bright colors, annoying blue eyes surrounded by overly attended long locks of blond hair. France was pompous, flamboyant and frankly an outright git.
England held out a hand for it, "Well, in that case you may as well deliver it to me."
France tucked the paper back away, "I'm afraid not. However, if you want to spend time with me, dear friend, you know where my chambers are." France smirked at him and walked away.
"We are not friends! And in your dreams!" he shouted after him, his voice overloud in the empty hallway. France chuckled as he disappeared around a corner, blowing England a kiss that was far lewder than it should have been.

England walked away from France, shaking. He was not sure if it was from distress or anger. How dare that bastard act so high and mighty! He stomped down the hall heading for his quarters. He needed a moment to himself to regain control and not feel so affected. The news from White and the encounter with France made him feel like he needed a drink. He passed an open corridor and felt foreboding settle into his gut. He stopped and turned.

Damn it.

"Little Brother, who is up your ass today?" Scotland dropped a hand on England's head and ruffled his hair. Too hard.

"You it seems." England said, moving out from under the rough hand. Scotland's sardonic grin transformed into a frown.

"And whose fault is that, eh?"

"Your bloody Queen's." England said, walking away from his brother. Not wanting to get into Scotland's latest drama. Apparently, some supernatural had a grudge today. The only thing that could be worse was Wales showing up to inform him that he'd accidentally let Ireland land on his coast for an invasion. He could hear Scotland following after him. England's problems ran through his mind like a tapestry of the tale. His colony was going poorly, France was sniffing around for weakness, word about Spain getting uppity... He whirled on Scotland. He could solve one problem right now.

He thrust a finger into Scotland's chest. Scotland raised his eyebrows as though he were humoring a child. England would show him he was not a child anymore. "You need to stop being so cozy with my enemies. I forbid you from associating with France!"

Scotland snorted, "You forbid me."

"Your queen and mine are cousins."

"So is France's king."

"I don't give a damn about that. I forbid it!"

Scotland stepped closer to him. At this distance the difference in their heights was made more apparent. England glared up into Scotland's face. Scotland's face cracked into a grin, he flicked England on the forehead. "You forget something, baby brother. You don't rule me." Scotland said, his voice low, threatening. He stepped around England.

"Maybe not yet." England said, his own voice low.

Scotland stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you should tell your queen to stop her scheming before she loses her head."

"Elizabeth would not dare."

"Mary risks both our safety with her schemes."

Scotland turned away, "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Somehow I don't believe that." Scotland did not move. The accusation was met with stony silence. England knew he had him. Scotland straightened and took a deep breath.

"Be careful about getting too big for your britches, England." he said, before walking on.

"What is that supposed to mean!?"

Scotland did not answer, just continued on his way. England swallowed the anger that was threatening to burrow up into his chest. As much as a fight with Scotland would make him feel better, the other apparently was not up for it. He would have Scotland bow to him one day. He'd decided it long ago. The Scots Queen better watch herself. He headed towards his own queen’s rooms trying to banish the unpleasant thoughts about his brother.

His announcement came and he was admitted to the inner chamber. Queen Elizabeth sat with all of her ladies around her. "Were you yelling at a certain French nation, England?" she teased. England felt a blush rise to his cheeks, but tried to push it down.  A sense of being a young child that was being scolded filled his mind, then disappearing when he saw the faint smile of amusement gracing her features. Mirth made Her Majesty’s eyes bright.
"I was not aware that he was here."
"Nevermind that," she said, a delicate wave of her small hand, "Tell me what Mr. Raleigh has told you about the New World." She gestured to a chair beside her and he sat, settling into the soft cushion before launching into some of the stories he had heard. They spoke all night and only came to their senses as the sun rose up outside the window.
~*~
England yawned into his breakfast, trying to hide it from the other nation he'd been so unfortunate to have to dine with. The French were here with some kind of discussion that neither France nor his ambassadors would tell him anything about. England considered his escape, but it was thwarted when France leaned closer to him on the bench and said, "Will you accompany me fishing? The weather is so fine today."
"Over my my dead..." England began.
"England." Elizabeth interrupted, laying a hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, my lady?"
She leaned close to him and whispered, "Play nice."
England frowned and wondered if she was serious. She leaned away with a laugh and turned to one of the other courtiers. England sighed, she was serious. "France, it appears that I will be able to accompany you fishing." he said in a begrudging tone.
France looked over the top of England's head to smile at Queen Elizabeth, "Thank you, your Majesty. I will greatly enjoy his company."
England wondered if it was possible for a nation to die of humiliation.
~*~
After settling as far a distance as he could, he dropped his line into the water and tried to ignore France's inane babbling about nonsense.  Choosing instead to focus on the land around him,  England felt a sense of pride and love stretch all the way to the ends of his limbs. The  river water glittered like fairy dust in the morning light. The glitter continued on at a much more subtle rate as his eyes traveled along grass that thickened as it grew further and further from the bank, morning dew beginning to burn away. The soft chirp of birds and the disgruntled conversations of ducks were like music to his ears in comparison to the croaks of his current companion.The sun beat down warmly on his face letting the drowsiness he felt in his bones come to the surface. His eyelids were getting heavier and heavier...
"Angleterre! You've got something on the line!"
"What?" he said sleepily, waking when the rod began to yank out of his hands. He gripped it harder, but he began to tip forward. With a splash he collapsed into the water and came up sputtering. France doubled over in laughter at the sight of him. England trudged through the shallow water to him trying to ignore the uncomfortable clinging of his clothing . England glared at him from the bottom of the bank shoving his now sopping blond fringe from his eyes. "Give me a hand up will you?"
France offered his hand and England used the opportunity to drag him off the bank and into the water. It was England's turn to laugh.
"How dare you!" France shouted enraged, splashing childishly as he fought to right himself in his newly water-logged state
"Now you look proper, Frog." England laughed, France looked positively murderous.
"What are you two doing?"
England turned away from France to look at the man who'd joined them standing on the bank. He looked out of place in his colorful clothing that was of a different style than France’s or England’s.
"Finland! We were... uh... fishing." said England, fully realizing his state.
"Doesn't look like it."
"Yes, see a fish!" said France, also not wanting to look the fool. Luck would have it, they hadn't scared off all of the fish in the river with their antics and he was able to snatch up a wriggling silver fish. Finland looked at them incredulously for a moment and dropped down on the bank.
England examined him for a moment, "What happened to your head?"
Finland reached up into his hair with a frustrated sigh, a large lump was on the side of his skull. He pulled his knees up to his chest and frowned at his feet. "It was terrible! Sweden and I were working on a settlement in the New World and Netherlands came and beat us out of it!"
"Oh?"
"It was such a nice place too, only there was something strange about it."
"What was strange about it?"
"Well, I suppose it wasn’t strange per say. It’s just there was this little boy out in the forest. He didn't seem to be from the settlement..."
"Wait! You mean there was someone like us?" France exclaimed, dropping the fish with a splash.
Finland though for a moment, "Maybe. But that would mean..."
"A little brother..." They all said at once. England only had to take one look at France to know what he was thinking. This new country would be his brother if he had anything to say about it. England had to get there first.
"I need to get back to the court to change. Her Majesty will be expecting me." He climbed out of the water and started towards his horse before France had even gathered his wits.
"England, you...!"
"See you, France! Finland!" Swinging onto his favorite chesnut mare he rode as quickly as he could, finding the location of his Queen immediately once he arrived back at the palace. Without even a thought to his state he ran to her. She was alone in her study pouring over maps and documents.
"England, why do you look...?"
"France dunked me in the river. But nevermind that, Bess! I need permission to go with Raleigh to start a colony across the sea."