Changed my pen-name from "Ofsilveryfeathers" - "loading-creativity"
Disclaimer: Not mine.
EPILOGUE
(oOo)
April was coming to an end and England couldn't be happier. Everything was on the right tracks and there wasn't an ounce of trouble on the foreseeable future. Aside from the onslaught of bills and some trouble his brothers had caused last time they had visited, of course. But that was easily overlooked, especially now that the Prime Minister was being more agreeable towards him. He was back to work and he was in good-terms with most of his children. His relationship with Scotland was only getting better, even if they had began to have their first fights. Particularly, England enjoyed having small arguments with the red-head. It made everything seem more – real, somehow.
"Shite." He cursed suddenly, snapping out of his day-dream and running to catch the underground wagon.
Scotland had been extremely serious this morning, when he requested that England was not late to diner. In his defence, England never was. Late, that is. For some reason though, Scotland found it necessary to stress the utmost importance of punctuality for this day in particular. And thus the Englishman's curiosity was piqued.
As luck would have it, England was late. So it was with cheeks reddened from embarrassment that he approached his and Scotland's (now) shared house. Home, he corrected himself mentally. It was incredible how much had changed in such a small amount of time. One year. All it took was one year for his life to be turned topsy-turvy. One year.
Sometimes he really couldn't warp his head around it. And Scotland – gruff, buff and dirty mouthed Scotland – was among the key factors for all of this. Sometimes, England thought it all had only been a very long and confusing (not to say frightening) dream. But it couldn't have been. It couldn't.
Because England still had appointments with his psychologist and his nutritionist. And he would have to make physical exams every three months for the coming year and the next to make sure he was in top condition. Not to mention his work load was still controlled, and he a time limit for hours spent in his office. Before all this, he could waste away inside the damn place and no one would notice.
Well, Scotland would. But Scotland wasn't always around. Not like he was now. With a soft smile on his lips, England climbed the few set of stairs to the porch. Breathing in deeply and thinking about whatever excuses he could give to his lover, he racked his knuckles on door. He shifted his weight from one foot to another as he waited for his brother to open the damned door. Really, what a day to forget his keys.
Thinking of his brother, England's smile widened. His green eyes twinkled with undiluted happiness, and the normally hard edges softened some. He truly loved Scotland for what he did. More so because the Scotsmen would comfort him every time he had to go back to Edinburg for work. England wasn't ashamed to say sex was best on these days.
Before he knew what was happening, the door opened with a click and he was pulled inside, coming face to face with an unimpressed Scotland. "Weren't yeh talkin' 'bout being "always on time" yesterday?" The Scot asked mockingly with one thick eyebrow arched in fake wonder "Yeh are 20 minutes late, Mr. Punctuality."
Blushing, England stuttered a bit before snapping at his brother. "It wasn't my fault."
"Daisy had problems with some papers and I had to stay and help. What kind of gentleman would I be if I let a co-worker in such predicament?"
It sounded lame even to his ears. True as it might be. And Scotland's smirk wasn't helping matters. "O' course." He agreed easily, eyes glinting with mirth as if he was privy to some tremendously funny joke.
"Shut up." The Englishman grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching a bit over himself. A protective instance, Hector Greenhill, his psychologist and friend, would say. Scotland noticed, and acted accordingly.
One large hand carded through England's hair soothingly and a soft kiss was quickly pressed against the younger Brit's forehead. "Tis alright." The Scot comforted, wrapping one arm over the other man's slender frame "At least, yeh are here. And it isn't like yeh are an hour late."
Sufficiently pacified, England soaked in the warmth of his older brother as they resumed their way towards – the Englishman noted with interest – the living room. "Why are you dressed like that?" He questioned, looking pointedly at Scotland's smoking "And why did you ask me to dress up as well?"
Obviously, England had an inkling of what might be happening. A romantic dinner? Some kinky stuff? Would he... Propose? Flustered, England brushed away all the possibilities. The last one actually left the Englishman tingling all over the right places, but he easily ignored it. He opted for peeking inquiringly at the quiet – but smirking devilishly – figure of the red-head instead. "Alba?" He called when his brother remained silent.
Unbothered, Scotland just pulled England with him towards the living room, letting go of the blond as they were three steps away from the closed doors. "It's a surprise, Albion" The man chided, earning himself a venomous glare from the shorter Briton "So shut up and wait for it."
"Stay put" The Scot ordered immediately after, disappearing behind the first door on their left. Unfortunately, England couldn't remember what was in said room for the life of him. So he gulped his very crude remark back and stayed put, much to his displeasure.
He didn't even get to call for his brother's name before roses were all but shoved in his face. "What?" He blinked twice; hugging the admittedly huge bouquet against his chest as his face steadily gained a tomato-hue "What? Scotland?"
"Happy Birthday, Albion" The red-head congratulated, smiling gently down at him. And England could only gape as he realised what day it was exactly. The 23rd of April. His National Day – or as became popular known among the Nations –, his 'birthday'. He stared at Scotland's accomplished face for an extended amount of time before smartly gasping out: "What?"
Really, the third time is the charm.
Because Scotland quickly realised what his astounded expression, reddening further due to mortification, meant. And he couldn't hold in a few guffaws. "Shut up!" England exclaimed in a mix of shame and anger, hiding his face in the roses his brother had gifted him.
Scowling, Scotland recognized he had over-stepped boundaries. It was something that was becoming a bit trickier as England's treatment progressed – they couldn't tell what was acceptable and what wasn't. Before, every action or word was thought over twice. They were walking on eggs at all times. Now, though, England was more accepting of certain jokes and playful banters. It didn't mean he was welcoming to them all. And it was a delicate balance. Blunders were made left and right on the Scots part. Thankfully, England was easy to forgive. Most of the time.
"Come now" The Scot said "Don't hide, there's nothin' tah be blushin' 'bout."
"I forgot my own birthday, Scotland."
"Yeh have been busy with therapy and getting better. Not tah say that yeh have started to work more these past few weeks. Yeh didn't have time tah worry about yer birthday. It's normal." Scotland stated, brushing England's hair in a reassuring gesture.
"Now, come on. Everyone's waitin'"
Whatever England had been expecting to hear certainly didn't include 'everyone', because he didn't move anymore. "Who is 'everyone'?" He asked cautiously, glancing at Scotland with wide eyes while trying and failing to back away from the Scotsman "Scotland..."
"Oh... Yeh know... The usual... Just... Everyone." He answered, throwing the living room doors open before England could turn on his heels and run.
Staring back at the Englishman were all his ex-colonies, plus his brothers and some welcoming familiar faces, such as Hector and Emilia, America, Portugal, Romania and Norway. Scotland pushed him towards the crowd, taking great delight in the fact that England wasn't freaking out. Au contraire, he seemed pretty accepting of it.
So, yeah, Scotland was mighty proud of himself for putting this whole surprise party thingy together. "Aye, I'm great" He stated, taking a bottle of whiskey with him to the nearest armchair, where he sat and enjoyed seeing England having fun and, generally, being happy.
One thought crossed his mind numerous times at the subtle glances England would send his way: He was so getting laid tonight.
(oOo)
It was Canada who hugged him first, followed by America and Australia and New Zealand. His brothers came next. And then Hong-Kong (who ran away from China's home only for this), Seychelles and India followed. After Falklands and Gibraltar and most of the other Overseas Territories hugged him and wished him a happy birthday, England honestly lost count.
But he was so happy he actually broke down in tears somewhere between cutting the cake and opening the first gift. Scotland was the first by his side, asking if something was wrong or if he was hurting anywhere. Still crying, England shook his head and assured the red-head that everything was fine. Everything was perfect.
"These are tears of happiness" He confessed, loud enough for every single one of his guests to hear "I'm so happy, that I can't help but let it out. So I cry. And thank you – thank all of you – because it has been a long time since I've been able to cry happy tears. Thank you. Thank you."
More than one blushed in awkwardness at that, but most – if not all – wore a smile on their faces. They were happy for him. And England couldn't be more grateful for them. For his family and his friends. The fact they cared, that he was important to them, warmed his heart.
A couple of hours later, he sat in a very comfortable armchair, previously occupied by Scotland. His brothers had all but disappeared, with the exception of the Scotsman, who smirked by his side. England peered curiously at his children, who shuffled embarrassed on the other side of the room. Before he could question what was happening, Scotland bent and whispered: "This is their last gift to you, Albion, so pay attention."
England smiled gently at his ex-colonies when he heard that – encouragingly, he hoped. What he received, however, certainly wasn't what he was expecting. For the nth time that day, he was surprised.
Crying a second time hadn't been in his plans. But when Gibraltar opened her lips (Honestly, England had been expecting a very well thought discourse), he was startled. It weren't crafted words and beautifully put-together phrases that left her scarlet lips, at least, not in the way he expected. But as a song.
When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary; You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; There is no life - no life without its hunger;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly;
But when you come and I am filled with wonder,
Sometimes, I think I glimpse eternity.
You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains; You raise me up: To more than I can be.*
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up: To more than I can be.
At the end, England was left stunned.
"Happy tears?" Scotland questioned as he handed him a handkerchief.
"Happy tears." England agreed as he clapped until the palm of his hands itched something horrible "Very, very, happy tears."
(oOo)
Pulling Scotland to his side after the song, he kissed him on the cheek and personally thanked him for all his support. "Love you" England whispered, knowing that more than one pair of eyes were on them, but not caring.
Grunting, Scotland pressed his lips against the Englishman's forehead. "Love you too" He smiled, glaring immediately afterwards when a few snickered (which effectively silenced them) "Now go back tah yeh presents – it'll probably take another full year before they are all together in one place again"
England looked at Scotland with wonder, lips curled into a pleased smile that send shivers down the red-heads spine. "Do you really think that?" He asked, mirth dancing in his eyes "Do you think they-"
"O' course. Yeh might be a deceiving island – a fallentes insula, if yeh wanna be poetic about it – but we love yah all the same. And kinda learnt to figure yeh out. These children – annoying as they might be – would move the world for yeh." Scotland argued, tilting his head in the direction of the mass of people who weren't being discreet whilst trying to listen on their conversation "Never doubt that."
Snorting, England glanced at him. "Fallentes Insula?" He questioned, clearly controlling his laugh as he took Scotland hands in his, intertwined their fingers, and walked towards his ex-colonies.
"Shut up" The red-head grumbled, shaking his head as he let himself be guided "Yeh know it fits, wee Albion"
"Indeed... Fallentes Insula, hm? And you were the first one to figure me out, weren't you? Thank you, brother."
"Anytime, wee brother."
"Happy birthday, Albion."
"Thank you, Alba."
"Love you."
"Love you too, wee Albion."
(oOo)
Music is "YOU RAISE ME UP" by Celtic Woman
About the chapter... I loved to write it. I had this ending planned for months. It was one of the first scenes in my head when I thought about the FI. And I knew - knew - it was going to be this ending that I wanted. This happy, fluff thing. And I think it is only fair that I give you this sweet thing after all the emotional roller coaster you guys went through with me and this fic...
So... That's it. The ending of Fallentes Insula. It was supposed to be up on the 23rd. But life got in the way. Well, that, and I wanted to add a few more things on the chapter before posting it (like the song thingy). I... I'm gonna miss this story. But! All things must come to an end, right? ...Right! Unfortunately.
I wanted to thank you all, dear readers, for keeping up with this story. Most of the time, it were you guys (reviewers, people who favorited and followed) that stopped me from giving up on Fallentes Insula. And I'm extremely happy with how well received this piece of work (my first fanfic, at that) was. It actually gave me the courage to write more and better. It made me want to be a better writer. Because no matter what people say... Yea, I write for myself. But, damn, I want to make people have fun while reading my stories, and getting emotional, and onnecting, and loving the story and characters as much as I do. So thank you for making me want to get better, be better. Thank you.
Thank you all for the support.
Thank you all for loving this fanfic and for reading and encouraging me.
Than you all for being so fucking awesome.
I love you all.