When the boy first opened his eyes, he saw a box.

He didn't know how he knew it was a box. The word was in his mind, whatever that meant, so it was enough. It was a blue box, bluer than the sky – what an odd word – overhead, bluer than the ragingterriblebeautiful ocean stretching out forever at his feet. Somehow, as he slowly sat up, his muscles aching and shifting beneath his skin with their first movement, he knew that the ocean would be important. And so would that blue box.

"Oh! Hallo, there!"

A voice – how do I know that? – came from behind him, so he turned his head, reveling in the sound as the air shifted around his ears, seeming to whisper something albion albion that he didn't quite understand. The world changed as he turned, his gaze shifting from the wide blue sea to beautiful white cliffs that stretched above him, taller than the tallest tree – but what is a tree? The cliffs weren't speaking, though; nothing understandable, at least. Albion, Albion. The loud voice, the real voice, came from the man.

The man was...strange. He looked young, no more than twenty-five years or so, dark hair brushed back and upwards like the plume of a hawk, his face pointed and intelligent like a fox, handsome perhaps, but his eyes were old, deep and wise and ancient in a way that the newly-awakened child could only regard with a dull and distant fear. The boy couldn't begin to know why, but something deep within his chest whispered outsider.

"That's odd," the man said, looking at the boy with vague curiosity. "You weren't here when I arrived; the beach was empty. The island was empty, I know, I scanned it before I landed, there aren't any humans here yet." He jumped down from the rock he had been standing on, landing nimbly on flat red shoes, long coat flapping madly in the wind. "But here you are." Pulling a strange black something out of his pocket and slipping it over his eyes, the man crouched down in the sand barely a foot from the boy, his gaze scrutinizing and obviously intrigued. Despite his confusion - should I be scared? - the boy couldn't bring himself to look away.

"It can't be..." The tone had changed. Where before, that voice had been excited and almost forcibly cheerful, now it was soft, awestruck. Hopeful. "I've always wondered how you were born, since even your few women can't have children, but...this is beyond anything I've ever imagined. Spontaneous generation as a result of sentient life within your borders." He grinned, his entire face lighting up. "That's brilliant."

Then the grin disappeared in a flash of pain, tendrils of gold wisping from his eyes to vanish in the light of the sunrise. For one moment, the youthful mask of joy vanished, and the boy could see the years stacked up behind that face, the guilt and remorse and deep, never-ending sorrow he carried. Then the moment was gone, the mask snapped back into place, and the man was on his feet and striding to the blue box before the boy could think to react.

It wasn't until the man had put a hand on the door – why does a box need a door, anyway? – that the boy had recovered enough to cry out, "Wait!"

His voice shattered into the morning air, the cliffs and the ocean whispering their delight around him, and the man froze, glancing back over his shoulder, his fingers still poised to open the door to the TARDIS. That's its name.

"Who are you?"

The man smiled, joy and despair twisted beautifully into one indefinable emotion. "I'm the Doctor, Albion," and the name thrummed in his ears when he heard it, the land around resounding with recognition, magic singing in his veins. Without another word, the Doctor stepped into his TARDIS and was gone.

The next time Arthur Kirkland saw the Doctor, it had been thousands of years since the day of his birth on that shining beach in Dover. He was England now, the name of Albion reduced to a vague murmur in the deepest recesses of his soul. He had felt his presence from time to time, marked his arrival to his land just as he did any foreign nation, but only for fleeting moments, hours, days. The Doctor never stayed in (Albion Loegria) England long enough for Arthur to find him, speak to him, ask him. Oh, so many questions he would ask if he could only catch the man.

The last place he expected to finally meet him was in his queen's bedchamber.

It was something of a private joke between them. Elizabeth I, known lovingly by her people as the Virgin Queen, often said that she never took a husband because she was married to England. Of course, only Bess herself knew how literally it was meant. From the moment he saw her, Arthur had loved her with all of his being, and against the charms of her nation, she was powerless. She soon grew to love him in return, and on the night of her coronation, in a secret ceremony performed by a Nottingham friar, they were married before God. He swore to be faithful to her for the rest of her life, and she to him.

When he first sensed the Doctor in the palace, he was in the middle of a diplomatic meeting with France (curse him to the end of the Earth) and couldn't get away, so he didn't pay it much mind, not expecting the man to stay long. But when he finally managed to break away from Francis, he could still feel him nearby. Like a hound after a fox's scent, he tracked him, barely recognizing his surroundings as he raced up stairs, through the elaborate halls and room after room, throwing open the last set of heavy oak doors...

And found the Doctor half-naked in bed with his Elizabeth.

Once the initial shock wore off, and the shouting and death threats and fury gave way to curiosity and resignation – he wasn't really surprised; after all, she was only human – Arthur left her to sit there in her sin and pulled the Doctor into his own quarters. They just stood there for several minutes, brilliant emerald clashing with deep chocolate, ancient locked with ancient and with a sudden, horrible realization, Arthur's oldest memory flipped itself on its head.

"My god...you're so young."

The Doctor blinked, surprised. "Young? Me? I'm really not..."

"But you are!" Face shining with four thousand years of unresolved questions, Arthur gripped the Doctor by his chin and looked him straight in the eyes, eyes that had haunted his dreams his entire life. "The last time I saw you, you were the ancient one, but now..." he shook his head, ash-blond hair swishing around his ears, "well, I do believe I'm older than you, now."

For a moment, it looked as though the Doctor was going to laugh, but then he looked closer, really looked at the small man holding him in an iron grip, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like a child. "Who are you?"

And England laughed.

"They were going to use William's play to wipe out humanity?"

The Doctor grinned, barely visible in the darkness under the Globe Theater's stage. "I know! Brilliant, isn't it? Even I wouldn't have thought of it. Very clever, if a bit old-fashioned."

Arthur just shook his head, green eyes glowing. "You should have let me handle it, Doctor. It's been too long since I've been allowed to use my magic. It practically burns inside me after so long without release."

"Ah, doesn't work that way, Arthur, you know that better than anyone. Had to be source of the spell that broke it."

Emerald eyes slid shut with a resigned sigh. "I know. You don't have to explain it to me. Magic is my lifeblood, just as time is yours." England crossed his arms over his chest, looking up at the rafters beneath the stage and past them, to cool forests and centuries long past. "Try to imagine it, though, Doctor. Imagine going a century without your TARDIS, without traveling as you do."

"I think I'd probably go mad."

"Exactly." Arthur sighed again, longing in his voice. "It's been almost that long since I've had the safety to whisper even the simplest of spells. Between living here, at court, and the Church of England-" He cut himself off with a wry chuckle. "Can you believe I have my own church now? I've made myself a sin."

The Doctor frowned. "Your rulers, Arthur. Not you."

"They're the same thing."

"Are they?"

"Yes. That's the curse of a Nation, Doctor." England brushed his hair out of his eyes, the gold ring in his ear glinting with the movement. "We are our own worst enemies, you know. We've advanced so far that we're destroying ourselves."

A laugh. "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet." The Doctor pushed himself off the wall, slipped through the shadows to listen for William and Martha, the Afrikans girl that Arthur absolutely refused to meet, then beckoned for him to follow, leading him out of the Globe and through the streets to his blue box.

The Doctor watched his face carefully as he stepped inside, rather surprised at how easily the Nation took it. "You're...not going to say anything."

"About what?" Monstrous eyebrows quirked. "About how it's bigger on the inside, is that what I'm expected to say?"

"Well..." the Time Lord fiddled with a few buttons, opening a distant door in the endless maze of passages twisted within the TARDIS' hull, "that's what most people say, at least."

Arthur laughed and started down the hall without waiting for the Doctor's guidance, letting the magic flowing through his mind expand for the first time in ages. "I'm not most people, Doctor." His eyes roamed the interior as he explored, steering towards the door that he knew had just opened. "There is old magic here."

Albion. Albion.

"Magic?" The Doctor shook his head, following after him. "Arthur, this isn't magic, it's science. I've told you before-"

"No." Arthur cut him off with a look, pressing a hand to the TARDIS wall. A flash of green eyes, a whispered phrase, and the wall was gone, with a new passage opening directly to the Doctor's waiting door. "She's beautiful, Doctor. Whether you know it or not, she is beautiful."

The Doctor couldn't think of an answer to that, so responded instead with a question of his own. "What else can you do with this magic of yours?"

Arthur smiled, a devious smirk that reminded the Doctor that this was, indeed, the Nation of Britain in 1599, the scourge of the Spanish Armada and terror of the Seven Seas. "I can do anything with my magic that you can do with your science, Doctor." He let himself into the open room, eyes shining with ancient joy at the sight before him: a massive greenhouse, stretching past the horizon and filled to bursting with the flora of a thousand worlds. He didn't recognize any of the plants around him, but it didn't matter. He was surrounded by life, pure, growing magic, and almost before he realized what he'd done, the barriers in his mind slid away until his entire body hummed with the energy surging beneath his skin. "For example..." he lifted a finger, and the door slid shut, locking the Doctor in with him. "And..." Arthur held out his hand, and the emerald light from his eyes seemed to coalesce in his palm into a burning, writhing miniature sun.

"You see, Doctor," Arthur explained, his voice soft, but layered with enchantment, so the sound itself was almost visible, "my magic is not so different from those alien-witches William just trapped in their own crystal ball. If I have enough energy, and the right words," he whispered something, tilting and musical and so ancient that even the TARDIS could not translate it, "I can create life itself." The fire in his hand shattered, spinning wildly in every direction, then gathered around the Doctor's wide-eyed form.

"You can't..." The Doctor couldn't force himself to finish the thought, but Arthur knew.

"I can." The green flame danced over the Doctor's skin, feather-light and hauntingly beautiful. "If you asked it of me, Doctor, I could resurrect your people."

"How..." A deep, unsettling fear had dug itself into the Doctor's soul. "How do you even know about that?"

Arthur smiled, not a wry grin or a devilish leer but an ageless expression of tenderness and understanding. "Your eyes."

The Doctor just shook his head, and with a wave of his hand, England dismissed the magic flitting between them. "I can't let them come back, Arthur. The universe won't survive if they come back."

A nod, silent understanding. Arthur would have done the same.

Arthur was startled out of a beautiful dream to a rather violent beating on his front door. For a moment, he just lay there in bed, listening to the rain overhead and wondering who could possibly need him in the middle of the night, but then he woke up enough to recognize the familiar foreign presence in his mind and forced himself to move, grumbling about inconsiderate time travelers at all hours of the night not caring about normal people who have to get up at reasonable hours of the morn-

Oh, bloody hell.

The Doctor was standing on his doorstep, soaked through, bedraggled and filthy and absolutely frantic. "She's dying, Arthur!"

"What?" Arthur automatically pulled the Doctor inside, taking off his own night robe and wrapping it around the freezing man. "Who's dying?"

A desperate hand clutched at his arm. "The TARDIS!"

Albion, Albion, Albion.

Without saying a word, England grabbed his cloak and pushed the Doctor back out into the street. Take me there, emerald eyes whispered.

Hands clasped between them, they ran.

~:~

"Can you save her, England?"

Arthur looked up at him, eyes glowing green and overflowing with time-vortex gold. "She's old, Doctor," he whispered, voice echoing with the souls of a thousand millennia of Britannia's might. "Ever so old...I can't begin to fathom it."

The Doctor just nodded, weary and fearful. "She was an outdated model even when I first took her...most of her technology was already obsolete." His voice cracked, something Arthur had never heard. "What's wrong with her?"

A musical sigh, green eyes turning back to gaze into the depths of the TARDIS' soul. The Doctor could almost see his body vibrating from the magic and time thrumming through his veins. "That's just it, Doctor. She's old, long past her expected retirement. She says she needs a complete re-circulation of her vortex, but I don't know what that even means." Another sigh, this one heavy with sorrow and regret. "I don't know why you came to me, Doctor."

"I didn't." Arthur snapped his head up, surprised. "I didn't even know there was anything wrong with her until we landed here and everything shut down. She came to you, Arthur. Not me." Desperation tinged his voice. "She wants you to save her."

"I don't..." Then he gasped, silenced, as the TARDIS slipped into his mind, a voice he had always known and all but forgotten whispering to his soul Albion Albion Albion and he knew what had to be done. "Doctor...if I do this, there will be no taking it back."

A pregnant silence, then, "What are you planning, Arthur?"

Not taking his eyes off of the Time Vortex swirling before him, England explained, "The TARDIS isn't just science, Doctor. She's magic, old magic. The same magic that created Nations, perhaps, so I can treat her as I would another Nation."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I can tie the TARDIS into my life-force. I can make her a part of my nation, not legally, but literally, so that as long as I exist, she will be young and strong. Bound to my island, and to me, but she'll survive."

The Doctor inhaled, understanding all too well just what that would do. "That's why she's always spoken to you, then. Because she is you. Or," he paused, "she will be."

A nod. "Like the Italy twins." His body seeped gold from every pore, emerald eyes glowing brighter than the sun as he stood, already beginning the incantation that would link them forever. "Doctor, now is your only chance to say no."

Silence, but the consent was understood. Who else would I ever trust with her?

Arthur let the magic overtake his soul.

"Engwand?"

Arthur reluctantly opened his eyes, not surprised by the tiny face leaning over his own. "Engwand! I heard someting!"

With a groan, Arthur pulled himself up to sit back against the tree they had been napping under. "You heard something?" he asked, not really concerned. "What did you hear, America?"

The boy frowned, uncertain, a strange expression on his normally cheerful face. "It's like you. It's not supposed to be here."

"Like..." For a moment, he didn't understand, then something at the back of his mind whispered Albion, and he smiled. "Alfred, I do believe we're going to have a visitor."

"Going to? But I'm already here!"

Alfred gasped and leaped to his feet, gaping at the raggedy man that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, but Arthur just smiled, not bothering to get up. "Well, this is a new face. Still not a ginger?"

The Doctor grinned and slid to the ground beside the nation, obviously enjoying how America stared. "No, still not ginger, but I've got green eyes, at least! Is this the first time you've seen this face? I've had it for a while now..." He shrugged. "It's the TARDIS, she always does this to me."

"She?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow. "Have you finally spoken to her yourself, then?"

"I have," this new face grinned at him, devious, as if he was sharing a deep secret, "and you would have loved her, Arthur."

"I alread-"

"Engwand!" Alfred tugged at his sleeve, cutting him off. "Engwand, he's strange!"

They couldn't stop themselves. They both burst out laughing.

~:~

"So," the Doctor said as Arthur finally closed Alfred's bedroom door, "that's America."

Arthur looked at him curiously, green eyes shaded with vague worry. "Yes." He paused, hand frozen on the doorknob. "You say that as if you don't like him."

"Well, I've never met him before."

"You've never met..." my brother? My son? My entire life?

"Oh..." the Doctor bit his lip, that's a new habit, "right...that's one of those things that I shouldn't have said."

The silence stretched on between them until it felt deep enough to drown in. Finally, Arthur took his hand off of the door and turned away. "How does he die, Doctor?"

He could feel the man's surprise. "Die?" A step closer, voice quiet so as not to disturb the sleeping child. "I never said anything about dying, did I?"

Arthur wouldn't look at him. "I know you, Doctor. I might not know this new face, but I know you." A tear threatened to break, but green eyes snapped shut in denial. "I can see your age in your eyes, you know, and you're older now than I've ever seen you." So why don't you know my America? What is going to happen to him?

"Arthur..."

"No." The Nation took a shuddering breath, forcing himself calm. "No, Doctor. Don't...don't say anything. I know I shouldn't have asked." He finally turned back, face twisted into a mask of wry cheer. "I can't cross my own timeline. Rule number one of time travel."

The Doctor shook his head with a sad shrug and didn't say a word.

Neither of them was surprised when, an hour later, England drunkenly pushed the Doctor into his bed.

~:~

The Doctor found him in America's old room, clutching the boy's favorite stuffed rabbit in one hand and a half-empty bottle of rum in the other. A rumpled piece of parchment had been tossed carelessly on the bed, the achingly familiar, star-shaking words written across the top. He didn't make a sound, just stood at the foot of the bed, waiting. Arthur would acknowledge him when he was ready.

Finally, England spoke, voice cracked and husky from crying. "You knew this would happen."

There was no point denying it. "I knew."

A shuddering gasp. "But you let me love him anyway."

"I had to." Silently, the Doctor moved to sit on the mattress beside him. "There are some things that can't be changed, Arthur. America has to happen."

"Why?"

"Oh, you know I can't tell you that." The Time Lord flashed a sad smile. "I'm breaking enough rules just being here now."

For a moment, Arthur didn't speak, his face pressed into the toy he held. "Why are you here, Doctor?"

The question hung in the air, four thousand years of pain laced into the words.

Why did you come to me?

"Don't you know?" The question was soft, the Doctor's typical mask of cheerful secrets firmly in place. "Can't you read my history in my mind?"

"I can." Arthur nodded, absently stroking the stuffed rabbit's head. He had yet to look up at all. "But I don't. I don't wish to see my own future through your eyes."

"You know what I've done."

"I know your name."

He froze, eyes wide with shock, but Arthur continued as if he hadn't noticed, "Last time you were here...the first time we made love – and don't act as if it was a one-time thing, either; I know familiarity when I feel it and you were well-practiced with my body – your mind was open to me. I didn't even have to try." For the first time, England looked up at the Doctor, watery emerald melting into forest green. "I should have known it from the beginning, though, shouldn't I? We're linked, Doctor. The two of us. It was your footsteps in Dover that brought me to life, my magic that keeps the TARDIS young. We're connected on a more intimate level than any marriage or partnership could ever be, but I don't know why."

The Doctor watched him, reading his face like a picture book, seeing the desperation, the confusion, the fear and sorrow and betrayal that shone behind those eyes. "You're not angry with me." You just need to cry.

So the Time Lord wrapped his arms around the Nation and pulled him to his chest. "I know, Arthur, I know," he whispered, fingers threading in ashen hair, eyes stretched wide to keep his own tears from falling. "It hurts to lose them, I know."

"You..." England choked on his thoughts, sobbing into the Doctor's jacket. You had a family, too.

"Dr. John McCrimmon?"

"Oh, aye," the Doctor grinned, slipping his psychic paper back into his pocket. "An old friend of mine, long time ago. I can't just tell the Queen of England to call me the Doctor, can I?"

Arthur flashed him a look of pure frustration, not bothering to hide how much that put-on Scottish brogue grated on his nerves. "It seems to work well enough for me."

"Ummmmm..." The blonde girl bit her lip, tugging at the Doctor's sleeve. "Bit out of the loop, here."

"Hmmm? Oh! Right!" With a flourished bow (how he manages that while walking, I'll never know), the Doctor waved a hand in her general direction. "Arthur, this tim'rous beastie is Rose Tyler, a good friend of mine. She's been traveling with me for...oh, about a year now, I suppose."

Arthur's eyes narrowed, his monstrous eyebrows combined with blazing green to make the expression absolutely terrifying. "How very strange..."

Her face twisted in confusion. "What is?"

A blink. "I have never met a human from my future before."

Rose Tyler gasped, her eyes going wide enough to nearly drop from her face, but the Doctor just laughed. "Now, Rose, I know you're all excited about meeting Queen Victoria," he gestured at the carriage they were following, "but this is who you should really faint for. Allow me to introduce the illustrious and infamous immortal, Arthur Kirkland, also known as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland."

Her jaw dropped.

"Northern Ireland?" Arthur couldn't hide a smirk. "I do believe you weren't supposed to say that."

The Doctor stuck his hands in his pockets and began to whistle, "God Save the Queen."

"Listen to me, Winston, for once in your life! Those things are dangerous. I don't care what Bracewell told you. There's no way they're on our side! I don't trust them! And if you don't pick up that goddamn phone and call him right now, then I will, and you don't want that."

Churchill sighed, rubbing his eyes. He knew that arguing with Arthur when he got like this was pointless. "Alright, England, alright. I'll call him. If only to prove to you that there is nothing to worry about."

Arthur's green eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything, preferring to make his point by glaring daggers at the odd blue phone on Churchill's desk. So, not wanting to incur the wrath of his nation any further, Winston started dialing with a resigned pull on his ever-present cigar.

He couldn't stop himself from staring. The TARDIS, my dear girl, had just appeared behind him on the Sycorax's bridge, completely silent and utterly, totally dead, oh, Doctor, why isn't she speaking to me? The blonde girl – Rose; he had met her once, during that mess with Victoria and the werewolf – had emerged from the blue box, but there was no Doctor by her side. Alone, she had said. We can't be alone...

He knew this was important. Beyond important, essential, the survival of the human race dependent on what this South London shop girl and Harriet Jones managed to negotiate, but he couldn't make himself focus. His blue box, his TARDIS, my doctor was silent. Dead. Gone. I really am...

Albion.

And hope crept back into his heart.

~:~

"You had to use that outrageous accent, didn't you?"

The Doctor gasped, affronted. "What? You say that like you don't like America."

Green eyes seethed. "I don't mind America. But his butchery of my language is an insult to my existence."

"But I had to say something fun!" He grinned, wiggling his newly-formed fingers. "And it is a fighting hand, so there."

England couldn't really argue. After all, it was Christmas.

And his Doctor was alive.

He wound his way through an endless maze of corridors, nearly frantic with fury and fear. Where was it? The computer had only been able to give vague instructions, leading him to a part of the ship that had no records whatsoever, but there were a hundred different rooms down here, and he could be in any one of them! He didn't have time to search them all...but there wasn't any other option. Growling with frustration, he opened the closest door.

Nothing.

So he opened another. And another, and another, and to hell with the consequences, he sent out a sonic blast that shorted out the locks on every single door within ten floors. There still wasn't a sound, though, not a call for help or an alarm. Nothing. If there's not even an alarm...

Then, as he ran past another dark room, something in the back of his mind whispered his name. He stopped, peered into the darkness, gloom so thick he couldn't even see the far wall. But as he stood there, hopeful and terrified in the doorway, the shadows seemed to coalesce, growing deeper in one spot, writhing and alive. He fumbled for the switch on the wall – ancient technology, really, showing how long ago this room was built – and couldn't hold back a gasp when the lights came on.

Arthur.

England was there, limp and filthy and practically bones, trapped in the corner and left to rot with his wrists bolted to the walls on either side. The Doctor practically dove across the room, screwdriver whirring to unlock the chains, and he managed to catch his friend as he fell forward, clutching him tightly. "Arthur...Arthur, speak to me." Please.

Green eyes blinked open, ever so slow, as if even that small movement was a challenge. "Doctor..." A pained chuckle, dry and wheezing and the Doctor wanted to cry. "You're late."

The Doctor just nodded, tears pricking at his eyes as he held the Nation tightly to his chest. "I know...I know, I'm so, so sorry...I-if I'd known I would have been here..."

England just smiled, a weak and feeble expression on his corpse-like face, but gods, he was so beautiful, even literally on the edge of death – and the Doctor didn't even want to think about how many times Arthur had died in here – his eyes still shone like they always had.

~:~

An hour later, a cleaned and fed Arthur was wrapped in blankets and falling asleep in Liz 10's bed, the Queen more than willing to give up her quarters until her nation had regained his strength. The Doctor lay next to him on top of the covers. Arthur wouldn't let him leave.

"You know I can't stay forever, England," he had admonished softly, no sting in his words. Arthur had nodded, exhausted, but gripped his hand tighter.

"Talk to me, Doctor," the Nation whispered. Pleaded. I've been alone for so long.

The Doctor smiled, but his eyes were sad, guilt thick in his words."Why don't you talk to me, eh? Tell me why your government locked you away." Why didn't you call me? I would have been here in an instant.

A wry laugh, muffled by the pillow. "I protested."

"The voting, you mean?"

Arthur nodded, too weak for any anger to seep into his voice, but it resonated in his eyes. "I told them to release the star whale...told them from the beginning that we didn't need to enslave it. But they didn't believe me, Liz was too young to understand." A shuddering breath, tinted with frustration and disgust. "Humans. Barely a fraction of my age, but they think they know better." Then he sighed, letting the raw emotion fade. "So, to keep me from doing something rash, they chained me in that room and threw away the key."

A whisper. "How long?"

Emerald met forest green. "How long was the star whale a slave?"

You stayed in that room starving to death over and over... "Almost five hundred years." Wonder and sorrow mingled in his eyes.

Arthur yawned, exhaustion taking hold, and let his eyes start to slip shut. "I am British, Doctor. KBO."

"Yeah..." Deep beneath them, the star whale flew on, carrying the people of Great Britain through the darkness of space, while the Nation of England drifted into long-deserved sleep. But just before he slipped away, the Doctor bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Arthur's forehead. "KBO...Albion."

Notes:

Historical References (in order of appearance)

Albion – the original name for the nation that became England. Texts from as early as the 6th century BC refer to the British Isles by this name, appearing in letters from Greek and Roman scholars (including Pliny the Elder and Ptolemy) and in myths from both Roman and British history. In more recent times, the name is often used as a poetic name for Great Britain.

Dover – The White Cliffs of Dover are an icon of England, recognized the world over. According to myth, the Cliffs were the first piece of the Isles to be seen by anyone from the European continent, and the name Albion is believed by some to be a derivation of the Proto-Indo-European words for "white" and "hill."

Loegria – the name of King Arthur's realm, typically used to describe the territory of the Britons before the Anglo-Saxon conquests. Like Albion, it is used as a poetic name for England, though it's not nearly as well known.

"the achingly familiar, star-shaking words" - It's probably obvious, but just to make sure that no one is confused, yes, this is a reference to the Declaration of Independence and the American Revolution.

The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland – The Northern Ireland part didn't come into play until 1921, when the Irish War of Independence ended with the Anglo-Irish Treaty.

KBO - "Keep Buggering On." Winston Churchill often said this during the London Blitz of WWII, and it has since come to be something of a stock quote or meme (like the whole "Carry On" thing). Since Churchill was a good friend of both England and the Doctor, it seems appropriate to the situation.

Doctor Who References

The Doctor you see here switches back and forth between David Tennant (the 10th Doctor) and the current Matt Smith (the 11th Doctor). Here's a list of all the episodes that I used, in the order I used them, along with any relevant notes.

"The End of Time" - the final two-part episode with David Tennant, culminating in his regeneration into Matt Smith. At the end of the second episode, the 10th Doctor travels through time and space saying goodbye to the people that were important to him. The bit about Arthur's spontaneous generation is purely my headcanon, as is Arthur being able to sense that the Doctor is an "outsider."

"The Shakespeare Code" - The 10th Doctor takes Martha Jones to the Globe Theater in London in 1599. I'm playing with the script a bit here: in the original episode, the Doctor was with William and Martha after the Carrionites were defeated. In my version, the Doctor was under the stage with Arthur. Also, the basis for the scene with Elizabeth I came from this episode; at the end of the last scene, the Queen makes an appearance at the Globe and immediately recognizes the Doctor as her "sworn enemy," but there is no explanation. So I made one up.

Tooth and Claw" - The Tenth Doctor and Rose accidentally end up in Scotland in 1879 just in time to meet Queen Victoria on the road to the Torchwood Estate. The Doctor affects a Scottish accent and uses his psychic paper to convince the Queen that he is her appointed protector, Dr. John McCrimmon (a nod to the original series, where John McCrimmon was one of the Doctor's earliest companions, and the one who gave him his most common alias, John Smith). He and Rose follow her carriage to the estate, which is where this scene takes place. I imagine that England would have been traveling with his queen, and would use the time to catch up with his old friend.

"Victory of the Daleks" - Winston Churchill calls the Doctor in the TARDIS to come check up on his new secret weapon. The Doctor shows up a month late, however, and by that time, his suspicions have disappeared. Unfortunate, since the "weapon" is in fact a squadron of secondhand Daleks desperate to rebuild their race. I imagine that Arthur would be at least partially aware of the history between the Doctor and the Daleks, so his first thought upon seeing them would be to inform his friend that his enemy is, in fact, not dead. I'm thinking of expanding this particular story into a full fic on its own; there's a lot that could be played with here.

"The Christmas Invasion" - The Sycorax time their invasion (intentionally or not) to perfectly coincide with both Christmas and the Doctor's regeneration from 9th to 10th. The Doctor spends most of the episode in a near-comatose state until the scent of classic English tea revives him in time to stop the invasion and fight off the Sycorax leader, despite having his hand cut off in a one-on-one battle to the death (it regrows because he is still within the first 15 hours after his transformation). Harriet Jones is the Prime Minister who orders Torchwood to destroy the Sycorax ship as it retreats from Earth's atmosphere, earning the Doctor's full wrath (he retaliates by whispering six words to her aide - "Don't you think she looks tired?" - and within a week, she is voted out of office under rumors of poor health and mental instablity). Merry Christmas, England.

"The Beast Below" - This was the only future-era episode that directly involved the nation of England (that I could find, anyway). In the 29th century, Earth was abandoned by the human race due to solar flares making the planet absolutely inhospitable. Every country built its own massive spaceship to carry their people in orbit around the planet, but England waited too long to get started (in the back of my head, I think Arthur just didn't want to ask Alfred for help) and their technology failed. At the last moment, a star whale appeared, so the government captured it and built the cruiser around it, shooting lasers directly into the pain centers of its brain to make it fly for them. Every citizen voted for this, knowing that it was the only way for them to survive, but then had their memories erased so they wouldn't have to live with the guilt. The Doctor didn't show up on with Amy Pond in tow until the year 3295, almost 500 years later. As for Arthur "starving to death over and over," that's my personal headcanon. I believe that the Nation People can be killed just like humans (though their natural strength does make it harder to do), but they will spontaneously return to life for as long as their country exists. Basically. Oh, and this is another episode that I am considering turning into its own fic.

Not another episode, but an important note. The Doctor's true name is, as hinted at by several episodes, something that only his parents (banished from the universe with the rest of the Time Lords, if they are alive at all) and River Song (his wife, for all intents and purposes) know. Whether he keeps it hidden out of shame, tradition, or because knowledge of it will shatter the universe has yet to be seen.

My apologies for the long author's note, but I feel that every word is necessary. If anything was unclear, or you have any questions, feel free to tell me in a review or a PM, and I'll do my best to explain it. Thank you for reading.