A Slow Paced Envy (11/15)
Monday, July 17th, 2023 21:04![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fumblingmusingsA study of a potential Female England characterisation. Snapshots through the years showing how and where her attempts at parenthood and romance run dissonant to the reality of being the motherland of the world's largest empire. There's a lot of people in her head who don't belong there, and it soon becomes everyone else's problem.
Also available on Ao3.
Chapter Eleven: 1902-1914, or the Edwardian Era
London, England
The news of the signing of the alliance was accompanied by an audible sigh of relief from Kiku. When he turned around, Evelyn was very nearby, practically vibrating under that wide brimmed hat of hers. It had taken some rather underhanded dealings to get here, involving Kiku running behind his government’s back to inform Evelyn of his people’s second guessing themselves, to which she had complained to her government, who had complained to Japan’s government of underhandedness, which had led to Russia being dropped like the venomous viper he was and…
Kiku was being kissed quite soundly on the lips. The sensation was much more pleasurable than whatever the end result would have been with Ivan, surely?
Evelyn was pulling the brim of her hat back to do so, so large and feathery that it made catching the right angle tricky, but the pair managed it.
When Kiku tried to pull back, a little surprised at how she’d thrown herself into such a kiss, he found he was quite unable, as instead his cheeks and nose and forehead had become targets.
“Ah,” he gasped, hands coming up to hold her neck. He pushed her back, just enough for him to put one kiss to her forehead, awkwardly shoving her hat back and tugging against where it was pinned into her hair. “I see why you were so keen to”- she kissed him again - “get it signed.”
Taking responsibility, the pair had joked. The treaty was blatant leverage between the two, holding out on anything more than the quick touching of fingers. The promise of wait, wait, wait. It will be worth it. Wait.
Evelyn had waited a long time to be kissed. Kiku had waited even longer. It was quite tricky to stop, even if they were inclined to.
England laughed. She didn’t have an objectively pretty laugh, witchy, she had once called it, but Japan liked it. It was sincere but rare, albeit, like her smiles, becoming more frequent in recent months.
“I’m happy,” she sighed. “So…fucking happy.”
She also had a habit for cursing when emotional. The more she swore, the more honest she was being.
“We don’t have to be alone anymore,” she breathed, letting go of the joint loneliness of enforced solitude for both their parts.
Her arms came up around his neck, clinging like vines and she rested her chin on Japan’s shoulders. In her tiny heeled shoes, they were the same height. Kiku paid for the embrace in a mouthful of hat feathers.
He held on tight though. Once the floodgates had opened, it seemed she could be quite the physically affectionate person. He was more touch starved than she, who had other sources to turn to when she needed a hug.
Said sources were across the park, out of earshot but not out of sight, each sitting squished on the park bench. None of the three looked particularly happy.
“She’s not wearing my pearls,” Jack grumbled. It was January and was one of Evelyn’s colder years. Matthew was unbothered, wearing nothing more extreme than some gloves and a woollen coat. Jack meanwhile was bundled up with a scarf and gloves and hat and thermals underneath all his layers, suffering for the sake of his mother’s joyful quasi wedding. “Ever since I started finding them, she has only worn mine. And now she…”
“She’s wearing the jewellery of the guy she’s just signed an alliance with. We’ve signed an alliance with? Have we?” Maia mused, eating a packet of boiled sweets with some aggression. “Are we beholden to this? If Japan goes ahead with a fight with Russia, and France is a good ally, that pulls in Britain. Which pulls in us. Just like in South Africa. Except this time you two may actually go and fight. Actually, has anyone heard from David recently?”
Matthew sat, stone faced and not indulging his sister's perceptive but scatterbrained words. Jack continued to grumble.
“When I told you to find ways to keep her busy, Canada, I didn’t mean with… people like us. I meant with her nursing and suffragists and all that crap.” Maia smacked her brother for his clumsy implication on women’s suffrage. He ignored her. “It was bad enough her day dreaming about Germany for a decade. Mattie… what the fuck has she done?”
“You’re being cruel Jack,” Maia chided, wiping her mouth on the back of her glove.
“It was to send a warning to Russia,” Matthew muttered. “She said so…”
“I am very sure Ivan is quivering in his furry boots at the sight of England kissing. The horror.”
“Jack!” Maia complained.
“Well I don’t wanna see it!”
Matthew pursed his lips, still as a stone wall. Maia leaned forward, looking across from Jack at her eldest brother.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she asked.
Matthew swallowed. “I think one of the reasons Japan tried at the last minute to reconcile with Russia was because an alliance with Ivan would have been preferable.”
“For them? Really? Not to us, though. Surely.”
“No,” he sighed, a cloud of steam escaping and surrounding the siblings. “America would have preferred it.”
The three were silent, musing the thought.
“And if Alfred prefers it, so must you,” Maia declared, standing up to throw away the paper bag.
Jack, joint at the hip to his sister, followed. Matthew remained for a moment longer, watching his mother smile, and laugh, and move with an energy seldom seen, and with a brightness to her complexion and eyes which solely came from being in love and happy.
He stared, a ghost in the middle of smog ridden Hyde Park. “I would have preferred it, yeah,” Matthew muttered.
*****
“Is this how English people congratulate each other then? I win a war and this is my reward?”
“Ha ha. I forget you can be sarcastic too. It’s nice. But be kind. We do not have to if you do not want to. I just… Hmm. I would like to. If you would.”
“When was the last time you…”
“Genuine answer? Years. Decades. More, probably. You?”
“A very long time as well.”
“Then there is no fear of judgement. Kiku… There was really no-one?”
“Not since… No. I could ask the same of you.”
“No-one would have me, and I do not like to be with my own people in that manner.”
“‘No-one would have me’, somehow I doubt that.”
“It’s the truth. Half an island is not much of a prize.”
“Is it okay if I…”
“Ah. Yes.”
“May I ask something?”
“...Anything.”
“That we… That we promise each other, even when our people are complaining, or there’s another war on… Or our alliance falls apart”-
“Why would it… Ah, fuck. That’s nice.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apol… God Kiku. I’ll stay. I promise. They’ll need to lock me away. Promise.”
A hand tightened in Kiku's hair, and he felt Evelyn shudder around him.
“...Thank you,” he whispered.
*****
Wells, England
“He hates me. Hates you.”
“Who does?” Kiku asked. “The number seems to grow daily.”
“You must not joke! Ludwig’s Kaiser… all he sprouts is awful violence! Why would he say this so openly?”
Kiku paused in his task of putting on a shirt, instead sitting down with Evelyn on her bed (too soft, he mused, not good for her spine), and inspected the newspaper she had spread across her lap. In the autumn morning sunlight, she appeared warmer than usual. Hair golden rather than straw.
“How bad is it?”
She flicked through pages, turning the broadsheet around so Kiku could see the skinny long article. Her agitated tone was whining and, most of all, angry.
“The author has sat on this for a whole year, I do not know why they choose to print it now. Wilhelm says that my people are mad for denying him friendship, he says that it is he and he alone preventing relations from degrading further, as the German people have no kind thoughts towards me. He says that the rest of Europe was joyful in the fight against the Boers, and that France and Russia tried to make him fight a war against me over it, and that his naval expansion is not to threaten me, but to threaten you.”
Big green eyes looked at Kiku, mouth downturned in a miserable frown. “And… and then. I received this in the post from America.”
She leaned over, pulling open a drawer in her bedside table. As always she felt Kiku still as she mentioned Alfred, but she had a point to make.
“Apparently, Wilhelm also spoke to some American journalist, except it’s been suppressed by he and I’s governments to protect the Kaiser, but look at it! It’s vile.”
Kiku read both interviews carefully. He went a little red, but otherwise remained calm.
“He seems quite foolish,” was all he could bring himself to say.
“I betray no-one by loving you,” she insisted, so passionately as if convincing herself.
“Does Ludwig agree with him?”
“I do not know,” Evelyn confessed. “Surely not? But what if he does? What if… I'm not betraying anyone. We're happy. We're keeping people safe. How…?”
“I know. We know.”
A cool hand rested at the base of England's neck, feeling her pulse beat faster than a robin bird.
“I hate him,” she breathed. “I wanted so much to love him, before you showed me what was right. But he doesn't understand how to separate himself from the state.”
Kiku sighed, “He is very young.”
“Perhaps us being old is a good thing after all.”
He smiled. “My knees appreciate your optimistic nature.”
“As do my hips.”
Japan laughed softly, and continued to read, this time outloud. “‘Germany is expecting to fight England, and, in my judgement, the Emperor does not care how quickly’... The Boer War was a war against God and the beginning of England's degeneration… Betrayal of her people… The Japanese sow sedition and treachery in every quarter... France and Russia have forfeited any leeway in their association with such an ally…” He paused, sighing deeply. “He calls us devils,” he stated.
Her cheek fell onto his shoulder, burrowing in close. She smelled nice today, like her seaside resorts in Devon and Yorkshire. Salty and clean air.
“Then I will go to hell for you,” she said.
She spoke with such certainty and earnestness that Kiku could not help but smile. He looked down at the letter, the unpublished words to the American.
“America… sent you this,” he said, voice flat and not quite a question.
England leaned over, returning to her side table. She pulled out a thick wodge of envelopes, tied together with string. Tugging out the most recent, she opened the envelope and pulled out a letter which went on for at least five pages.
“We write every month,” Evelyn said, rereading the accompanying letter, “It keeps the two of us honest. We are trying to understand each other better, you see. We write what is hard to say in person.”
“And what does he say?”
If Kiku wanted to take the letter to read for himself, he was unable, as Evelyn withdrew, holding the paper against her sternum. Kiku’s hand paused, outstretched, and Evelyn grew bashful.
“Only that his President no longer believes that I am wrong to be frightened of his naval expansion.”
Japan did not believe her, but he sighed, and looked back at the two interviews.
“So this one has been published; this one has not.”
“That’s correct.”
“And who knows about the latter?”
“Well. America. You. Me. I’m sure France will get his hands on it; anything to get a leg up over Germany… He’ll be all for its publication. But I cannot let it. I cannot be seen… encouraging this war on the horizon.” She ran her hands through her loose hair at the roots, stressfully pulling at strands with the motion.
“You have a very… gentlemanly way of looking at war.”
She shook her head. “Everyone is clamouring for it. I think I’m frightened for when it will arrive.”
“You? Frightened of war?”
She scoffed. “You have a very different relationship to war poppet. I cannot stand by and allow one hundred years of relative peace in Europe to collapse. Franco and Austro Prussian wars aside. And the Balkans. And the Crimea. And…”
“I see two common factors. A German and a Russian.”
Kiku shuffled back, until he was sitting next to Evelyn, both their spines supported by the bed’s headboard. “I have a seat at the table through you,” he explained. “I need to be there in my own right. The war with Russia helped, but I am still not quite there.”
“A seat at the table?” she repeated, confused.
“You have had one for so long I think you have forgotten the desire to be there. To matter.”
“I… I suppose I haven’t ever really thought about it. I never went to any Concert of Europe. I rarely spoke to any nation, no government minister has ever sought my advice. I speak to lobbyists; if they care to know who I am. Abolitionists, suffragists, reformers… For so much of the 19th century, England’s voice was the only one that mattered, but it never felt like they were my… words…”
Kiku listened patiently, not moving as England shuffled, curling into a ball, head pressed against her knees. “You must think me so weak,” she muttered. “How dare I complain when there is so much wrong in the world? So much wrong that I am the root of.”
“I do not like to hear you speak so lowly of yourself.”
“I know what I am.” She peered at Kiku through her curtain of hair, seeing how sad he looked. “But you,” she said, coming out of her cocoon, “chose to chase me over the others. You must be more mad than I.”
He blushed, so sweetly, then swallowed loudly. “In this age, you get that seat through industry and empire. You have both.”
“Is that the only reason why for this?”
Her hand came and rested on his chest, right above his heart. Kiku had a terrible habit of shying away from emotional honesty. Sweet words did not come easily to him, but he more than made up for it with tender gestures and gentle touches. And his inability to not blush gave away each lie, showing that he wanted to say more, but did not quite have the courage. Kiku was gentle, above all things, in his movements and words, but his efforts to try and close off that part of himself could lead to some painful moments. Evelyn was forever trying to explain that when he was with her, he did not need to pretend like he did with his oligarchs. She was, and never had been, impressed by military might. Ambition, yes. Brute strength, less so.
“Also to keep the Russians out of Manchuria. ”
“You sound like Ludwig,” Evelyn quietly chided.
He nodded. “We came to this game late. Now our Emperors fumble over how to get us to the top, where we belong.”
With a huffing sigh, England collapsed, falling sideways onto Japan’s lap.
“Don’t you find it beastly?”
Kiku was slow to reply. “Yes. But what can be done about it?”
It was a statement that England herself had thought and repeated many times, a resigned desperation. If things were awful, simply wait it out.
“We can take moments of peace,” she uttered, closing her eyes when his fingers found their way into her hair. “This alliance is as much a liability as it was politically astute. I will take my joy where I can.”
“And sneak behind our government’s back.”
He was perfectly capable of being cheeky in the right circumstances, Evelyn found it rather sweet. She waved the letters in her hand as an example.
“I quite enjoy subterfuge. Rather fun.”
Kiku snorted. “People call it dishonest and cowardly.”
England’s next words slipped out before she could stop herself, snarking, “Ah. Says the nation who assassinated a queen.”
The hand stilled in her hair, and Evelyn felt the muscles beneath her tense. Kiku slid out from under his partner, moving to definitively button up his shirt. Stammering, Evelyn felt no need to apologise - his army had stormed into the Korean palace and murdered their Queen - but she knew there was a time and place for such pronouncements. Eight o’clock in the morning, with both partners in various states of undress, was not it.
“Wait,” she asked, scrambling over the covers, “I misspoke. Kiku”-
“I have a gift for you,” he cut her off. “Let me get it.”
Evelyn remained on her bed, knees splayed out. She fell back onto her rear and looked down at the letter Alfred had sent her.
I think, Evie, you are beginning to turn a blind eye to what is in front of you once again. Look at what is coming. Look.
Evelyn closed up the letter, returning it to her stack of correspondence, and went to place them in her drawer. She froze mid movement, and for reasons she did not quite understand, she instead stood up. Long night-gown trailing across the floor, Evelyn went to one of her jewellery boxes. Unlocking it, placing the letters safely inside, locking the box once more, then placing the key in a different drawer, she moved as if she were hiding something. Protecting something.
Japan re-entered the room. “Ah,” he smiled. “I’m afraid it is not more jewellery this time.”
Evelyn turned, seeing instead a wonderful bound book in his hands. “I would love you regardless of any jewellery you were capable of giving.”
“I appreciate that, but no, I finished translating another of your poems.”
With that news, Evelyn’s smile stretched wider.
“I fear I have made a monster out of you.”
Kiku gave her the book, and Evelyn sat at her vanity, reverently opening the pages.
“Oh!” she moaned, delighted. “You translated Pearl? And into modern English too!”
Kiku was not the first to attempt to do so into modern English. A couple of her people had done so these past decades, but that did not even enter her thoughts as she turned to the back, seeing the neat vertical Japanese kanji instead.
“You will need to read this out loud to me,” she said.
“Of course.”
Evelyn turned back to the front, admiring his hard work. Kiku asked, “Do you think it is a good translation? I could not get it into Japanese first without modernising the language. It has changed quite a lot, I see, in six hundred years.”
“Kiku, not even my own people have done such a wonderful job.” She ran her fingers across the beautiful calligraphy, reading out loud, “Beautiful pearl that would please a prince, fit to be mounted in finest gold. I say for certain that in all the East her precious equal I never found. So radiant and round, however revealed, so small, her skin so very smooth. Of all the gems I judged and prized, I set her apart, unparalleled. But I lost my pearl in a garden of herbs; she slipped from me through grass to ground, and I mourn now, with a broken heart for that priceless pearl without a spot… Kiku, this is wonderful. You give this to me?”
“Readily.”
Evelyn smiled, continuing her examination of her partner’s efforts to modernise and translate one of her most precious poems. A story about a grieving parent, who goes to the river where his daughter died, only to fall asleep and have a vision of her on the other side of the water, safe in heaven. It had been kept by one of Evelyn’s rather eccentric antiquarians from the 17th century, but had been made safe in her British Museum the year it was founded, back in 1753. It was not as famous as another great poem from the volume, an Arthurian tale of Gawain and his adventures, but Evelyn treasured each of them in turn.
“You spoil me so,” she giggled, closing the book and holding out her hands.
Kiku took them, refusing to let her stroke her face as she had obviously desired, and instead knelt in front of her.
“I understand,” he said, very seriously, “that no-one is happy about… this relationship. I know that our governments do not quite trust each other. ”
“Kiku…”
“But,” he continued, quite determined but so red one would have thought he was close to a heart attack from embarrassment. “I trust you.”
It was as close to a declaration of love she would ever get from him. Evelyn stared, quite unsure what to say back. The letters locked away behind her felt as though they would burst out from the locked box. Evelyn’s voice grew very tight, the words strangling their way out. Despite this, she knew she was speaking the truth when she whispered,
“I love you.”
Impossibly, Kiku turned even redder. He looked down at Evelyn’s feet, and swallowed loudly.
“I’m leaving this afternoon,” he stated, conscious that the silence had dragged on.
Evelyn let her hands fall out of his grip, unable to hide her disappointment. She did not want to push him, his way of showing affection was simply different to hers, but still. The silence stung.
“Of course,” she whispered, leaning forward so she could press a kiss to his forehead. “Let me see you off. You have so far to travel.”
*****
Brussels, Belgium
It had been something of a desperate measure. One last final concert, only for nations. If their governments were so determined for the implosion, Belgium - Belle - had requested a meeting, so at least the nations were on the same page. She wanted an assurance for her neutral borders to be respected. France had agreed. Germany had been silent.
All who could on such short notice were to attend: Belgium, Netherlands, Italy, France, Germany, and, for the first time in an age, all four nations of Britain, plus the children. A previous agreement that they would be included in foreign policy decisions had not exactly been upheld, rather, at the very least, they were informed. Sometimes.
Watch and learn and improve, Evelyn had said in the cramped car. God knows it needs improving.
No Austria, no Russia. Without them, it seemed the entire thing was doomed to fail. Not even ten minutes into the meeting, and things had utterly collapsed.
Combined, the disjointed anglo family made something of a wall within the room. Erin remained quite far back, near the exit, ready to leave the moment things got heated. She was rather furiously bickering with Alasdair, who had a telegram in his hand. Rhys watched the two from a seat, but did not intercede. Evelyn herself was standing, flanked either side by Matthew and Jack. They watched as whatever conversation between Francis and Ludwig grew foul tempered. It was hard, however, for Evelyn to keep track of the conversation between her siblings and allies nearby, the information was overwhelming.
“You swore to me the Bill would be passed”-
“There’s news about a boy and we need-”
“Francis has given me assurance that my neutrality will be respected, Ludwig you must do the same.”
“The Germans are not capable of respect.”
“I am trying to avoid a long two front war -”
England wished she could take a holiday with the children. And Japan. Force Kiku and Jack to interact and prove that the two could get along perfectly well. Let Matthew relax. Go to see some shows with Maia. Evelyn had a decent home in Norwich. They could spend a day or two at Yarmouth and enjoy the sea. The pier had just burnt down, but that wasn't Evelyn's fault. Her suffragettes sure did pick funny targets…
“Evelyn!”
Ludwig snapping at her brought the room into focus. Frowning, she stepped forward. Her boys followed her. Maia remained back some steps, before sliding over to sit with Rhys. He went to take her hand, but she pulled away, folding them instead on her lap. Always inquisitive, always wicked sharp, she was always content to watch and take her time.
“What?” England snapped.
Ludwig was very pale, unused to being spoken to in such a manner.
“I need to know about your obligation to Belgium.”
Her frown deepened. “What about it?”
Belle was very much the picture of a frightened girl. Evelyn wondered how much she was putting it on. Even Francis did not appear convinced.
“Will you fight for me? If he breaks the treaty? You swore to protect my neutrality and independence,” Belgium argued, voice shrill.
Pretty Belle. Pretty pretty Belle...
Ludwig cut in, disputing on technicalities, “Independence from the Netherlands, and there's nothing about military intervention if it is broken.”
Shit. He was using the same arguments as some in Britain's government. The cabinet were not exactly hankering for war, there were bigger problems on their plate. The problem was her people, who had grown very used to the idea of a war with Germany. They were expecting it. All they needed was an excuse. Belgium. Ideally.
Not to mention, Evelyn's rather agitated sister, who seemed one more Home Rule Bill denial away from slapping Alasdair through to the next room.
“My government thinks you will not intercede,” Ludwig continued. “Tell me if I'm wrong.”
“No Eva, you must!” Belle cried out. “For God's sake, we have not spent so long building international law -”
“Who told you I would not intercede?” Evelyn cut in, directing her query to Ludwig. “Even if I did nothing over Belgium, have I not shown you that I will support France in everything now? You didn’t think Morocco was for show?”
Francis snorted, that arrogant and infuriating snide tone that would set anyone's hackles on edge.
“Of course he does not understand. He understands nothing other than what his government and elder brothers tell him. Warmongers, all of them.”
“Roderich-”
England knew the excuse before Ludwig could voice it. “You cannot cite loyalty to treaties and then ask me to look the other way for mine. What is honour to you?”
“You are not beholden to any treaty!”
“I am for them!” Her yell was enough to make Matthew to flinch. “Ludwig, can't you stop them?” she begged.
He looked increasingly desperate himself. “Stop what? How?”
It was a foolish request. Ludwig had no more influence over policy makers than Evelyn did.
She briefly wondered if she was being hypocritical. Evelyn promptly buried the thought.
Francis grew even more annoyed, even more snippy. “A problem in the Balkans need not grow beyond the Balkans. It is Roderich’s problem, not ours.”
“I am aware, and it would be so if not for Russia. Where is Ivan? Why did he not come?” Ludwig scoffed. “He supports Serbia in all things, and for what?”
“Ivan is nowhere near ready to mobilise and you know it. No-one wants this war!”
“Our people do,” England breathed. “They’re all hungry for it.”
“Yes,” Francis replied, “But we are not stupid enough to follow them blindly. We know better. Him however…!”
“We’re arguing in circles…” Rhys muttered at the table. He was rubbing his eyes, exhausted.
An impasse. It was inevitable, truly, and they all knew it. That network of alliances, the buildup of arms, the tension over colonies, the smoking gun of Serbia and Bosnia and that entire region, it was unavoidable.
Belle returned to her original point. “If that is so, then I will repeat my request. My neutral borders are respected.”
“Until he steps into Belgian lands,” Francis stated, utterly serious, “No soldier of mine will cross your border.”
Everyone remained silent, awaiting the same promise from Germany. It did not come. Francis, enraged, spat out, “You coward -”
He touched a nerve, as nothing threatened Ludwig’s pride like being accused of cowardice. It was something that had been drilled into him for decades, Prussia’s very particular understanding of bravery. Bravery on the battlefield, bravery in war.
Losing his temper in a way no-one in the room had ever been witness to, Ludwig went to grab Francis’ jacket collar. In the flurry of activity that followed, the speed with which events occurred only made sense in hindsight, with everyone acting purely on instinct.
To get to Francis, Ludwig had to shove his way past Belle, who gasped and stumbled backwards into her brother’s arms, nearly losing her footing but managing to right herself just in time to see Evelyn give a short and sharp chide to Ludwig, immediately grabbing his forearm.
With no thought, Ludwig simply threw her off, but with such a small frame, thin and chronically sick as she was, she was thrown completely off balance, falling with a crack against the chairs and tables. The sound of her gasp of pain - not immense, but enough to echo in the chamber - plus the sight of Francis being manhandled, allowed Matthew to give one incredibly sharp push, throwing Ludwig back with a horrid snap of his own.
Feliciano wailed, forever upset at any sort of argument and got in the middle, arms flailing and effectively acting as a shield between the two sides of the room.
Rhys was off his chair almost immediately, to the point where Maia gasped, rocking back with her seat legs nearly giving way beneath her.
“Matthew!”
His mother’s hand came up and gripped his wrist. Already Jack was down on the ground next to her, arm around her waist and ready to pull her up. She did not shake him off, but protested, “I’m alright Jack. Matthew, don’t bother with him.”
“He”-
She held on tighter, and Jack helped her back to her feet.
“Mama,” Maia said, hugging Evelyn from behind, “You’re okay?”
With the three of them forming a wall between their mother and the rest of Europe (as it had been for so long, her abandoning and ignoring any responsibility towards the mainland and preferring the company of her own little creations) Ludwig’s temper grew hotter once again.
“You have picked a terrible time to look back at Europe, England. You fell because you're weak, Evelyn. No Empire aside from you so blatantly relies on children to prop them up.”
It was Jack's turn to lose his temper.
“Where do you get off calling someone weak?”
Evelyn mused the fact that so far, none of her children were excelling in the diplomacy department. Watching learning and improving had certainly gone out the window. That was probably her fault. She had not exactly trained them for it, and like their mother, they could be awfully petty when the mood took them.
“Ludwig meant no harm I am sure,” the sarcasm dripped from Evelyn’s tone as she peered from between her boys’ shoulders.
How had she ever convinced herself that she loved him? Brutish, dogmatic, insensitive ungentle -
Ambitious and oh so serious and looking increasingly like a cornered wild animal.
Ludwig snorted, instead pacing back and forth across the other side of the room, some demented lion waiting for an excuse to attack again. Evelyn twisted her necklace back around, correcting herself, only for it to come apart in her hands.
“Oh! Fucker!” she gasped, holding the string. Francis looked back, surprised at her exclamation, then rolled his eyes at the inconsequential damage. “These were a gift!” she hissed.
They were Kiku’s and well made, so they didn’t scatter across the floor, but two did come loose and she wrangled to catch them before they could reach the ground and roll out of sight. Jack could not help himself, he smirked. Good.
“Take a break!” Erin yelled from the back of the room, beyond frustrated with how the agenda was going. “Let’s try again in thirty minutes.”
Everyone grumbled, but acquiesced. Ludwig stared at the anglo block, then shook his head.
“They wouldn’t have broken if you had stayed out of this,” he complained.
Evelyn flushed red, her own anger getting the better of her. “Forgive me for not turning away when you wanted to start a fight Ludwig!”
“I do not -”
“Enough!” Belle yelled, getting physical of her own accord, and shooing Ludwig from the room. Feliciano followed him, unsure of what to do and where to go. Belle continued to wave her hands and chase them out, like an old woman with a broom banishing rats from her kitchen. “Enough! Get out, walk around my gardens and calm down! I will not have this in my house!”
The second door slammed shut, and the family were left alone in the chamber, save Francis, who watched Evelyn rather peevishly. England sighed, miserable, and collapsed into a chair. Reverently, she laid out the necklace on the table, setting each loose pearl carefully down.
“Oh… He gave this to me…”
Jack sat next to her, taking her hand. “I’ll get you a new set,” he said.
She kissed him quickly, but did not stop mourning the broken necklace. Matthew watched, jealous, when Francis spoke to him.
“Not bad, to push back Germany. Thank you.”
Matthew turned, appalled that Francis was speaking to him. France had a somewhat unexpected nervous expression facing Canada. Matthew watched as he struggled to control his expression, settling into his expected distance. Cool, as if he did not care whether or not Matthew acknowledged him. Instead, Matthew should be flattered it was the other way around.
Canada’s teeth began to grind, the same impulsive rage capturing him and carrying him beyond any reason once again. The very fact that Francis even thought to try and school his expression in such a way filled him with a very real hatred.
“I didn’t do it for you.”
Francis did not look as taken aback as Matthew had hoped. Rather, he appeared as if he were expecting such a dismissal, and looked rather sad for it.
Matthew swallowed loudly, unaware that he could hold a grudge for so long.
You left me. He wanted to scream and punch and kick. You left me and my people behind and let others write cruel things and degrade me and you have the nerve to look like I am doing wrong by you?
The little boy that Francis had so readily dropped, the one who had been taught to toss each note from his mother into the fire for safety, the one who had received more and more inflammatory letters from Alfred, accusing him of motivations and thoughts he did not have, that boy who was so utterly isolated and alone… Save endless letters from his mother, promising she was on her way. Be a little more patient, they were nearly there. She nearly had him.
But then his uncle showed up, teaching him a language and music that Matthew still sang to this day. Then finally his mother came. For good. Never to be torn from him without his consent.
His mother, who at the time could barely stand on her own two feet for more than an hour at a time, would hold him, making promises she had no way of keeping, and making Matthew swear them in return.
He had been utterly ruined by his family, Matthew knew this.
“Mattie, darling,” England called, voice pulling the two men apart. “Come here please.”
Matthew knew, and yet he did not care.
With no response to Matthew’s dismissal given by Francis, Canada turned away, abruptly ashamed, to see England watching the interaction. She smiled, for as much as she was Francis’ ally, as much as she had all but announced that she would fight and die alongside him, she still got a terrible satisfaction from seeing the two unreconciled. She was horrid, she knew it. She did not care one whit, so long as Matthew stayed with her.
Francis visibly twitched as the saccharine woman, giving one more chide before he too exited the room for some fresh air.
“You really are the oddest creature,” he uttered, slapping her upside the head as he passed. She hissed, annoyed that her head had taken two knocks that day, but Francis continued on, quite determined to be ignorant of her two guard dogs and their venomous glares. He pushed past Erin and Alasdair, the latter of whom bit his lip, then gave chase.
Evelyn heaved a sigh. Picking up one of the pearls, she inspected it in the artificial light. Perfect, smooth, cream. Kiku really had given her his best.
“Do you think you’ll be at war by the end of the year?” Maia asked, returning to sitting next to her uncle.
England peered at the closed door Germany had left through, still twirling the peal between her fingers.
“Me? You? All of us? It depends, truly, on the German. And not the end of the year. Next month.”
“What?”
“We cannot stop it. This July crisis has fallen from our hands. All we do now is watch. Everything else will be set aside.”
The sound of the other door slamming shut, Erin finally having had enough, echoed throughout the room.
“I am sorry,” England stated, quite blithely. Her children looked at her, shocked at her open apology, “for what it is worth. I get the feeling we’re all going to have rather a hell of an experience in a wee while.”
*****
Historical Notes:
- The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was signed in January 1902. Responses were… mixed everywhere except the UK and Japan, who were both pretty happy with what they got. You can actually go read the original Hetalia strip for a (sort of) run down of what happened lol.
- France was actually rather content with it too, as there was a clause that specifically stated that each partner would only need to go to war for the other if two or more countries were on the opposing side. This gave France an out from supporting Russia in the Far East, and an excuse to further cosey up to Britain against Germany. If France helped Russia, Britain would get pulled in, and they didn’t want that. After the Entente Cordiale a couple years later, Japan didn’t have much to fear from other nations supporting Russia.
- Lo and behold Japan and Russia had a war, which Japan comfortably won. Britain helped out a bit, and the alliance was renewed. This required Britain to do some rather twisted lying to the Dominions (and by extension the US) to justify it, who were incredibly uneasy about the whole thing (racism).
- Kaiser Wilhelm ran his mouth a lot. His rants to the Daily Telegraph and William Hale in 1907/08 showed how unstable he was. Again, it convinced the UK that Germany had no interest in peace.
- Pearl is a 14th century poem written in Middle English. Its language has been modernised many times over the years. It is mainly a religious piece, but the grief of the father and his dead little girl is heartbreaking. Well. That’s one interpretation.
- In the summer of 1914 the Liberals were trying to get the Irish Home Rule Bill passed. It was the 3rd time they had tried, and oh boy was it controversial, not least in that WWI meant everything got pushed back six years and the delay started a Civil War. I really didn't know where and when NI should appear in this. In canon Hima has treated it like a two Italy's situation in that they were babies together but.... ooft. Um. Um... Anyway!
- The July crisis… Well. Let Horrible Histories explain it. The Belgium neutrality ‘scrap of paper’ excuse may have been just an excuse. Britain really couldn’t face the idea of France losing a war, so terrified of a German dominated continent, so they would have gotten involved regardless of any Belgian neutrality being violated. It just gave them the excuse of the moral high ground. The Dominions didn’t get much of a voice in any of this.
Link to Chapter Twelve.
Also available on Ao3.
Chapter Eleven: 1902-1914, or the Edwardian Era
London, England
The news of the signing of the alliance was accompanied by an audible sigh of relief from Kiku. When he turned around, Evelyn was very nearby, practically vibrating under that wide brimmed hat of hers. It had taken some rather underhanded dealings to get here, involving Kiku running behind his government’s back to inform Evelyn of his people’s second guessing themselves, to which she had complained to her government, who had complained to Japan’s government of underhandedness, which had led to Russia being dropped like the venomous viper he was and…
Kiku was being kissed quite soundly on the lips. The sensation was much more pleasurable than whatever the end result would have been with Ivan, surely?
Evelyn was pulling the brim of her hat back to do so, so large and feathery that it made catching the right angle tricky, but the pair managed it.
When Kiku tried to pull back, a little surprised at how she’d thrown herself into such a kiss, he found he was quite unable, as instead his cheeks and nose and forehead had become targets.
“Ah,” he gasped, hands coming up to hold her neck. He pushed her back, just enough for him to put one kiss to her forehead, awkwardly shoving her hat back and tugging against where it was pinned into her hair. “I see why you were so keen to”- she kissed him again - “get it signed.”
Taking responsibility, the pair had joked. The treaty was blatant leverage between the two, holding out on anything more than the quick touching of fingers. The promise of wait, wait, wait. It will be worth it. Wait.
Evelyn had waited a long time to be kissed. Kiku had waited even longer. It was quite tricky to stop, even if they were inclined to.
England laughed. She didn’t have an objectively pretty laugh, witchy, she had once called it, but Japan liked it. It was sincere but rare, albeit, like her smiles, becoming more frequent in recent months.
“I’m happy,” she sighed. “So…fucking happy.”
She also had a habit for cursing when emotional. The more she swore, the more honest she was being.
“We don’t have to be alone anymore,” she breathed, letting go of the joint loneliness of enforced solitude for both their parts.
Her arms came up around his neck, clinging like vines and she rested her chin on Japan’s shoulders. In her tiny heeled shoes, they were the same height. Kiku paid for the embrace in a mouthful of hat feathers.
He held on tight though. Once the floodgates had opened, it seemed she could be quite the physically affectionate person. He was more touch starved than she, who had other sources to turn to when she needed a hug.
Said sources were across the park, out of earshot but not out of sight, each sitting squished on the park bench. None of the three looked particularly happy.
“She’s not wearing my pearls,” Jack grumbled. It was January and was one of Evelyn’s colder years. Matthew was unbothered, wearing nothing more extreme than some gloves and a woollen coat. Jack meanwhile was bundled up with a scarf and gloves and hat and thermals underneath all his layers, suffering for the sake of his mother’s joyful quasi wedding. “Ever since I started finding them, she has only worn mine. And now she…”
“She’s wearing the jewellery of the guy she’s just signed an alliance with. We’ve signed an alliance with? Have we?” Maia mused, eating a packet of boiled sweets with some aggression. “Are we beholden to this? If Japan goes ahead with a fight with Russia, and France is a good ally, that pulls in Britain. Which pulls in us. Just like in South Africa. Except this time you two may actually go and fight. Actually, has anyone heard from David recently?”
Matthew sat, stone faced and not indulging his sister's perceptive but scatterbrained words. Jack continued to grumble.
“When I told you to find ways to keep her busy, Canada, I didn’t mean with… people like us. I meant with her nursing and suffragists and all that crap.” Maia smacked her brother for his clumsy implication on women’s suffrage. He ignored her. “It was bad enough her day dreaming about Germany for a decade. Mattie… what the fuck has she done?”
“You’re being cruel Jack,” Maia chided, wiping her mouth on the back of her glove.
“It was to send a warning to Russia,” Matthew muttered. “She said so…”
“I am very sure Ivan is quivering in his furry boots at the sight of England kissing. The horror.”
“Jack!” Maia complained.
“Well I don’t wanna see it!”
Matthew pursed his lips, still as a stone wall. Maia leaned forward, looking across from Jack at her eldest brother.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she asked.
Matthew swallowed. “I think one of the reasons Japan tried at the last minute to reconcile with Russia was because an alliance with Ivan would have been preferable.”
“For them? Really? Not to us, though. Surely.”
“No,” he sighed, a cloud of steam escaping and surrounding the siblings. “America would have preferred it.”
The three were silent, musing the thought.
“And if Alfred prefers it, so must you,” Maia declared, standing up to throw away the paper bag.
Jack, joint at the hip to his sister, followed. Matthew remained for a moment longer, watching his mother smile, and laugh, and move with an energy seldom seen, and with a brightness to her complexion and eyes which solely came from being in love and happy.
He stared, a ghost in the middle of smog ridden Hyde Park. “I would have preferred it, yeah,” Matthew muttered.
*****
“Is this how English people congratulate each other then? I win a war and this is my reward?”
“Ha ha. I forget you can be sarcastic too. It’s nice. But be kind. We do not have to if you do not want to. I just… Hmm. I would like to. If you would.”
“When was the last time you…”
“Genuine answer? Years. Decades. More, probably. You?”
“A very long time as well.”
“Then there is no fear of judgement. Kiku… There was really no-one?”
“Not since… No. I could ask the same of you.”
“No-one would have me, and I do not like to be with my own people in that manner.”
“‘No-one would have me’, somehow I doubt that.”
“It’s the truth. Half an island is not much of a prize.”
“Is it okay if I…”
“Ah. Yes.”
“May I ask something?”
“...Anything.”
“That we… That we promise each other, even when our people are complaining, or there’s another war on… Or our alliance falls apart”-
“Why would it… Ah, fuck. That’s nice.”
“Sorry.”
“Why are you apol… God Kiku. I’ll stay. I promise. They’ll need to lock me away. Promise.”
A hand tightened in Kiku's hair, and he felt Evelyn shudder around him.
“...Thank you,” he whispered.
*****
Wells, England
“He hates me. Hates you.”
“Who does?” Kiku asked. “The number seems to grow daily.”
“You must not joke! Ludwig’s Kaiser… all he sprouts is awful violence! Why would he say this so openly?”
Kiku paused in his task of putting on a shirt, instead sitting down with Evelyn on her bed (too soft, he mused, not good for her spine), and inspected the newspaper she had spread across her lap. In the autumn morning sunlight, she appeared warmer than usual. Hair golden rather than straw.
“How bad is it?”
She flicked through pages, turning the broadsheet around so Kiku could see the skinny long article. Her agitated tone was whining and, most of all, angry.
“The author has sat on this for a whole year, I do not know why they choose to print it now. Wilhelm says that my people are mad for denying him friendship, he says that it is he and he alone preventing relations from degrading further, as the German people have no kind thoughts towards me. He says that the rest of Europe was joyful in the fight against the Boers, and that France and Russia tried to make him fight a war against me over it, and that his naval expansion is not to threaten me, but to threaten you.”
Big green eyes looked at Kiku, mouth downturned in a miserable frown. “And… and then. I received this in the post from America.”
She leaned over, pulling open a drawer in her bedside table. As always she felt Kiku still as she mentioned Alfred, but she had a point to make.
“Apparently, Wilhelm also spoke to some American journalist, except it’s been suppressed by he and I’s governments to protect the Kaiser, but look at it! It’s vile.”
Kiku read both interviews carefully. He went a little red, but otherwise remained calm.
“He seems quite foolish,” was all he could bring himself to say.
“I betray no-one by loving you,” she insisted, so passionately as if convincing herself.
“Does Ludwig agree with him?”
“I do not know,” Evelyn confessed. “Surely not? But what if he does? What if… I'm not betraying anyone. We're happy. We're keeping people safe. How…?”
“I know. We know.”
A cool hand rested at the base of England's neck, feeling her pulse beat faster than a robin bird.
“I hate him,” she breathed. “I wanted so much to love him, before you showed me what was right. But he doesn't understand how to separate himself from the state.”
Kiku sighed, “He is very young.”
“Perhaps us being old is a good thing after all.”
He smiled. “My knees appreciate your optimistic nature.”
“As do my hips.”
Japan laughed softly, and continued to read, this time outloud. “‘Germany is expecting to fight England, and, in my judgement, the Emperor does not care how quickly’... The Boer War was a war against God and the beginning of England's degeneration… Betrayal of her people… The Japanese sow sedition and treachery in every quarter... France and Russia have forfeited any leeway in their association with such an ally…” He paused, sighing deeply. “He calls us devils,” he stated.
Her cheek fell onto his shoulder, burrowing in close. She smelled nice today, like her seaside resorts in Devon and Yorkshire. Salty and clean air.
“Then I will go to hell for you,” she said.
She spoke with such certainty and earnestness that Kiku could not help but smile. He looked down at the letter, the unpublished words to the American.
“America… sent you this,” he said, voice flat and not quite a question.
England leaned over, returning to her side table. She pulled out a thick wodge of envelopes, tied together with string. Tugging out the most recent, she opened the envelope and pulled out a letter which went on for at least five pages.
“We write every month,” Evelyn said, rereading the accompanying letter, “It keeps the two of us honest. We are trying to understand each other better, you see. We write what is hard to say in person.”
“And what does he say?”
If Kiku wanted to take the letter to read for himself, he was unable, as Evelyn withdrew, holding the paper against her sternum. Kiku’s hand paused, outstretched, and Evelyn grew bashful.
“Only that his President no longer believes that I am wrong to be frightened of his naval expansion.”
Japan did not believe her, but he sighed, and looked back at the two interviews.
“So this one has been published; this one has not.”
“That’s correct.”
“And who knows about the latter?”
“Well. America. You. Me. I’m sure France will get his hands on it; anything to get a leg up over Germany… He’ll be all for its publication. But I cannot let it. I cannot be seen… encouraging this war on the horizon.” She ran her hands through her loose hair at the roots, stressfully pulling at strands with the motion.
“You have a very… gentlemanly way of looking at war.”
She shook her head. “Everyone is clamouring for it. I think I’m frightened for when it will arrive.”
“You? Frightened of war?”
She scoffed. “You have a very different relationship to war poppet. I cannot stand by and allow one hundred years of relative peace in Europe to collapse. Franco and Austro Prussian wars aside. And the Balkans. And the Crimea. And…”
“I see two common factors. A German and a Russian.”
Kiku shuffled back, until he was sitting next to Evelyn, both their spines supported by the bed’s headboard. “I have a seat at the table through you,” he explained. “I need to be there in my own right. The war with Russia helped, but I am still not quite there.”
“A seat at the table?” she repeated, confused.
“You have had one for so long I think you have forgotten the desire to be there. To matter.”
“I… I suppose I haven’t ever really thought about it. I never went to any Concert of Europe. I rarely spoke to any nation, no government minister has ever sought my advice. I speak to lobbyists; if they care to know who I am. Abolitionists, suffragists, reformers… For so much of the 19th century, England’s voice was the only one that mattered, but it never felt like they were my… words…”
Kiku listened patiently, not moving as England shuffled, curling into a ball, head pressed against her knees. “You must think me so weak,” she muttered. “How dare I complain when there is so much wrong in the world? So much wrong that I am the root of.”
“I do not like to hear you speak so lowly of yourself.”
“I know what I am.” She peered at Kiku through her curtain of hair, seeing how sad he looked. “But you,” she said, coming out of her cocoon, “chose to chase me over the others. You must be more mad than I.”
He blushed, so sweetly, then swallowed loudly. “In this age, you get that seat through industry and empire. You have both.”
“Is that the only reason why for this?”
Her hand came and rested on his chest, right above his heart. Kiku had a terrible habit of shying away from emotional honesty. Sweet words did not come easily to him, but he more than made up for it with tender gestures and gentle touches. And his inability to not blush gave away each lie, showing that he wanted to say more, but did not quite have the courage. Kiku was gentle, above all things, in his movements and words, but his efforts to try and close off that part of himself could lead to some painful moments. Evelyn was forever trying to explain that when he was with her, he did not need to pretend like he did with his oligarchs. She was, and never had been, impressed by military might. Ambition, yes. Brute strength, less so.
“Also to keep the Russians out of Manchuria. ”
“You sound like Ludwig,” Evelyn quietly chided.
He nodded. “We came to this game late. Now our Emperors fumble over how to get us to the top, where we belong.”
With a huffing sigh, England collapsed, falling sideways onto Japan’s lap.
“Don’t you find it beastly?”
Kiku was slow to reply. “Yes. But what can be done about it?”
It was a statement that England herself had thought and repeated many times, a resigned desperation. If things were awful, simply wait it out.
“We can take moments of peace,” she uttered, closing her eyes when his fingers found their way into her hair. “This alliance is as much a liability as it was politically astute. I will take my joy where I can.”
“And sneak behind our government’s back.”
He was perfectly capable of being cheeky in the right circumstances, Evelyn found it rather sweet. She waved the letters in her hand as an example.
“I quite enjoy subterfuge. Rather fun.”
Kiku snorted. “People call it dishonest and cowardly.”
England’s next words slipped out before she could stop herself, snarking, “Ah. Says the nation who assassinated a queen.”
The hand stilled in her hair, and Evelyn felt the muscles beneath her tense. Kiku slid out from under his partner, moving to definitively button up his shirt. Stammering, Evelyn felt no need to apologise - his army had stormed into the Korean palace and murdered their Queen - but she knew there was a time and place for such pronouncements. Eight o’clock in the morning, with both partners in various states of undress, was not it.
“Wait,” she asked, scrambling over the covers, “I misspoke. Kiku”-
“I have a gift for you,” he cut her off. “Let me get it.”
Evelyn remained on her bed, knees splayed out. She fell back onto her rear and looked down at the letter Alfred had sent her.
I think, Evie, you are beginning to turn a blind eye to what is in front of you once again. Look at what is coming. Look.
Evelyn closed up the letter, returning it to her stack of correspondence, and went to place them in her drawer. She froze mid movement, and for reasons she did not quite understand, she instead stood up. Long night-gown trailing across the floor, Evelyn went to one of her jewellery boxes. Unlocking it, placing the letters safely inside, locking the box once more, then placing the key in a different drawer, she moved as if she were hiding something. Protecting something.
Japan re-entered the room. “Ah,” he smiled. “I’m afraid it is not more jewellery this time.”
Evelyn turned, seeing instead a wonderful bound book in his hands. “I would love you regardless of any jewellery you were capable of giving.”
“I appreciate that, but no, I finished translating another of your poems.”
With that news, Evelyn’s smile stretched wider.
“I fear I have made a monster out of you.”
Kiku gave her the book, and Evelyn sat at her vanity, reverently opening the pages.
“Oh!” she moaned, delighted. “You translated Pearl? And into modern English too!”
Kiku was not the first to attempt to do so into modern English. A couple of her people had done so these past decades, but that did not even enter her thoughts as she turned to the back, seeing the neat vertical Japanese kanji instead.
“You will need to read this out loud to me,” she said.
“Of course.”
Evelyn turned back to the front, admiring his hard work. Kiku asked, “Do you think it is a good translation? I could not get it into Japanese first without modernising the language. It has changed quite a lot, I see, in six hundred years.”
“Kiku, not even my own people have done such a wonderful job.” She ran her fingers across the beautiful calligraphy, reading out loud, “Beautiful pearl that would please a prince, fit to be mounted in finest gold. I say for certain that in all the East her precious equal I never found. So radiant and round, however revealed, so small, her skin so very smooth. Of all the gems I judged and prized, I set her apart, unparalleled. But I lost my pearl in a garden of herbs; she slipped from me through grass to ground, and I mourn now, with a broken heart for that priceless pearl without a spot… Kiku, this is wonderful. You give this to me?”
“Readily.”
Evelyn smiled, continuing her examination of her partner’s efforts to modernise and translate one of her most precious poems. A story about a grieving parent, who goes to the river where his daughter died, only to fall asleep and have a vision of her on the other side of the water, safe in heaven. It had been kept by one of Evelyn’s rather eccentric antiquarians from the 17th century, but had been made safe in her British Museum the year it was founded, back in 1753. It was not as famous as another great poem from the volume, an Arthurian tale of Gawain and his adventures, but Evelyn treasured each of them in turn.
“You spoil me so,” she giggled, closing the book and holding out her hands.
Kiku took them, refusing to let her stroke her face as she had obviously desired, and instead knelt in front of her.
“I understand,” he said, very seriously, “that no-one is happy about… this relationship. I know that our governments do not quite trust each other. ”
“Kiku…”
“But,” he continued, quite determined but so red one would have thought he was close to a heart attack from embarrassment. “I trust you.”
It was as close to a declaration of love she would ever get from him. Evelyn stared, quite unsure what to say back. The letters locked away behind her felt as though they would burst out from the locked box. Evelyn’s voice grew very tight, the words strangling their way out. Despite this, she knew she was speaking the truth when she whispered,
“I love you.”
Impossibly, Kiku turned even redder. He looked down at Evelyn’s feet, and swallowed loudly.
“I’m leaving this afternoon,” he stated, conscious that the silence had dragged on.
Evelyn let her hands fall out of his grip, unable to hide her disappointment. She did not want to push him, his way of showing affection was simply different to hers, but still. The silence stung.
“Of course,” she whispered, leaning forward so she could press a kiss to his forehead. “Let me see you off. You have so far to travel.”
*****
Brussels, Belgium
It had been something of a desperate measure. One last final concert, only for nations. If their governments were so determined for the implosion, Belgium - Belle - had requested a meeting, so at least the nations were on the same page. She wanted an assurance for her neutral borders to be respected. France had agreed. Germany had been silent.
All who could on such short notice were to attend: Belgium, Netherlands, Italy, France, Germany, and, for the first time in an age, all four nations of Britain, plus the children. A previous agreement that they would be included in foreign policy decisions had not exactly been upheld, rather, at the very least, they were informed. Sometimes.
Watch and learn and improve, Evelyn had said in the cramped car. God knows it needs improving.
No Austria, no Russia. Without them, it seemed the entire thing was doomed to fail. Not even ten minutes into the meeting, and things had utterly collapsed.
Combined, the disjointed anglo family made something of a wall within the room. Erin remained quite far back, near the exit, ready to leave the moment things got heated. She was rather furiously bickering with Alasdair, who had a telegram in his hand. Rhys watched the two from a seat, but did not intercede. Evelyn herself was standing, flanked either side by Matthew and Jack. They watched as whatever conversation between Francis and Ludwig grew foul tempered. It was hard, however, for Evelyn to keep track of the conversation between her siblings and allies nearby, the information was overwhelming.
“You swore to me the Bill would be passed”-
“There’s news about a boy and we need-”
“Francis has given me assurance that my neutrality will be respected, Ludwig you must do the same.”
“The Germans are not capable of respect.”
“I am trying to avoid a long two front war -”
England wished she could take a holiday with the children. And Japan. Force Kiku and Jack to interact and prove that the two could get along perfectly well. Let Matthew relax. Go to see some shows with Maia. Evelyn had a decent home in Norwich. They could spend a day or two at Yarmouth and enjoy the sea. The pier had just burnt down, but that wasn't Evelyn's fault. Her suffragettes sure did pick funny targets…
“Evelyn!”
Ludwig snapping at her brought the room into focus. Frowning, she stepped forward. Her boys followed her. Maia remained back some steps, before sliding over to sit with Rhys. He went to take her hand, but she pulled away, folding them instead on her lap. Always inquisitive, always wicked sharp, she was always content to watch and take her time.
“What?” England snapped.
Ludwig was very pale, unused to being spoken to in such a manner.
“I need to know about your obligation to Belgium.”
Her frown deepened. “What about it?”
Belle was very much the picture of a frightened girl. Evelyn wondered how much she was putting it on. Even Francis did not appear convinced.
“Will you fight for me? If he breaks the treaty? You swore to protect my neutrality and independence,” Belgium argued, voice shrill.
Pretty Belle. Pretty pretty Belle...
Ludwig cut in, disputing on technicalities, “Independence from the Netherlands, and there's nothing about military intervention if it is broken.”
Shit. He was using the same arguments as some in Britain's government. The cabinet were not exactly hankering for war, there were bigger problems on their plate. The problem was her people, who had grown very used to the idea of a war with Germany. They were expecting it. All they needed was an excuse. Belgium. Ideally.
Not to mention, Evelyn's rather agitated sister, who seemed one more Home Rule Bill denial away from slapping Alasdair through to the next room.
“My government thinks you will not intercede,” Ludwig continued. “Tell me if I'm wrong.”
“No Eva, you must!” Belle cried out. “For God's sake, we have not spent so long building international law -”
“Who told you I would not intercede?” Evelyn cut in, directing her query to Ludwig. “Even if I did nothing over Belgium, have I not shown you that I will support France in everything now? You didn’t think Morocco was for show?”
Francis snorted, that arrogant and infuriating snide tone that would set anyone's hackles on edge.
“Of course he does not understand. He understands nothing other than what his government and elder brothers tell him. Warmongers, all of them.”
“Roderich-”
England knew the excuse before Ludwig could voice it. “You cannot cite loyalty to treaties and then ask me to look the other way for mine. What is honour to you?”
“You are not beholden to any treaty!”
“I am for them!” Her yell was enough to make Matthew to flinch. “Ludwig, can't you stop them?” she begged.
He looked increasingly desperate himself. “Stop what? How?”
It was a foolish request. Ludwig had no more influence over policy makers than Evelyn did.
She briefly wondered if she was being hypocritical. Evelyn promptly buried the thought.
Francis grew even more annoyed, even more snippy. “A problem in the Balkans need not grow beyond the Balkans. It is Roderich’s problem, not ours.”
“I am aware, and it would be so if not for Russia. Where is Ivan? Why did he not come?” Ludwig scoffed. “He supports Serbia in all things, and for what?”
“Ivan is nowhere near ready to mobilise and you know it. No-one wants this war!”
“Our people do,” England breathed. “They’re all hungry for it.”
“Yes,” Francis replied, “But we are not stupid enough to follow them blindly. We know better. Him however…!”
“We’re arguing in circles…” Rhys muttered at the table. He was rubbing his eyes, exhausted.
An impasse. It was inevitable, truly, and they all knew it. That network of alliances, the buildup of arms, the tension over colonies, the smoking gun of Serbia and Bosnia and that entire region, it was unavoidable.
Belle returned to her original point. “If that is so, then I will repeat my request. My neutral borders are respected.”
“Until he steps into Belgian lands,” Francis stated, utterly serious, “No soldier of mine will cross your border.”
Everyone remained silent, awaiting the same promise from Germany. It did not come. Francis, enraged, spat out, “You coward -”
He touched a nerve, as nothing threatened Ludwig’s pride like being accused of cowardice. It was something that had been drilled into him for decades, Prussia’s very particular understanding of bravery. Bravery on the battlefield, bravery in war.
Losing his temper in a way no-one in the room had ever been witness to, Ludwig went to grab Francis’ jacket collar. In the flurry of activity that followed, the speed with which events occurred only made sense in hindsight, with everyone acting purely on instinct.
To get to Francis, Ludwig had to shove his way past Belle, who gasped and stumbled backwards into her brother’s arms, nearly losing her footing but managing to right herself just in time to see Evelyn give a short and sharp chide to Ludwig, immediately grabbing his forearm.
With no thought, Ludwig simply threw her off, but with such a small frame, thin and chronically sick as she was, she was thrown completely off balance, falling with a crack against the chairs and tables. The sound of her gasp of pain - not immense, but enough to echo in the chamber - plus the sight of Francis being manhandled, allowed Matthew to give one incredibly sharp push, throwing Ludwig back with a horrid snap of his own.
Feliciano wailed, forever upset at any sort of argument and got in the middle, arms flailing and effectively acting as a shield between the two sides of the room.
Rhys was off his chair almost immediately, to the point where Maia gasped, rocking back with her seat legs nearly giving way beneath her.
“Matthew!”
His mother’s hand came up and gripped his wrist. Already Jack was down on the ground next to her, arm around her waist and ready to pull her up. She did not shake him off, but protested, “I’m alright Jack. Matthew, don’t bother with him.”
“He”-
She held on tighter, and Jack helped her back to her feet.
“Mama,” Maia said, hugging Evelyn from behind, “You’re okay?”
With the three of them forming a wall between their mother and the rest of Europe (as it had been for so long, her abandoning and ignoring any responsibility towards the mainland and preferring the company of her own little creations) Ludwig’s temper grew hotter once again.
“You have picked a terrible time to look back at Europe, England. You fell because you're weak, Evelyn. No Empire aside from you so blatantly relies on children to prop them up.”
It was Jack's turn to lose his temper.
“Where do you get off calling someone weak?”
Evelyn mused the fact that so far, none of her children were excelling in the diplomacy department. Watching learning and improving had certainly gone out the window. That was probably her fault. She had not exactly trained them for it, and like their mother, they could be awfully petty when the mood took them.
“Ludwig meant no harm I am sure,” the sarcasm dripped from Evelyn’s tone as she peered from between her boys’ shoulders.
How had she ever convinced herself that she loved him? Brutish, dogmatic, insensitive ungentle -
Ambitious and oh so serious and looking increasingly like a cornered wild animal.
Ludwig snorted, instead pacing back and forth across the other side of the room, some demented lion waiting for an excuse to attack again. Evelyn twisted her necklace back around, correcting herself, only for it to come apart in her hands.
“Oh! Fucker!” she gasped, holding the string. Francis looked back, surprised at her exclamation, then rolled his eyes at the inconsequential damage. “These were a gift!” she hissed.
They were Kiku’s and well made, so they didn’t scatter across the floor, but two did come loose and she wrangled to catch them before they could reach the ground and roll out of sight. Jack could not help himself, he smirked. Good.
“Take a break!” Erin yelled from the back of the room, beyond frustrated with how the agenda was going. “Let’s try again in thirty minutes.”
Everyone grumbled, but acquiesced. Ludwig stared at the anglo block, then shook his head.
“They wouldn’t have broken if you had stayed out of this,” he complained.
Evelyn flushed red, her own anger getting the better of her. “Forgive me for not turning away when you wanted to start a fight Ludwig!”
“I do not -”
“Enough!” Belle yelled, getting physical of her own accord, and shooing Ludwig from the room. Feliciano followed him, unsure of what to do and where to go. Belle continued to wave her hands and chase them out, like an old woman with a broom banishing rats from her kitchen. “Enough! Get out, walk around my gardens and calm down! I will not have this in my house!”
The second door slammed shut, and the family were left alone in the chamber, save Francis, who watched Evelyn rather peevishly. England sighed, miserable, and collapsed into a chair. Reverently, she laid out the necklace on the table, setting each loose pearl carefully down.
“Oh… He gave this to me…”
Jack sat next to her, taking her hand. “I’ll get you a new set,” he said.
She kissed him quickly, but did not stop mourning the broken necklace. Matthew watched, jealous, when Francis spoke to him.
“Not bad, to push back Germany. Thank you.”
Matthew turned, appalled that Francis was speaking to him. France had a somewhat unexpected nervous expression facing Canada. Matthew watched as he struggled to control his expression, settling into his expected distance. Cool, as if he did not care whether or not Matthew acknowledged him. Instead, Matthew should be flattered it was the other way around.
Canada’s teeth began to grind, the same impulsive rage capturing him and carrying him beyond any reason once again. The very fact that Francis even thought to try and school his expression in such a way filled him with a very real hatred.
“I didn’t do it for you.”
Francis did not look as taken aback as Matthew had hoped. Rather, he appeared as if he were expecting such a dismissal, and looked rather sad for it.
Matthew swallowed loudly, unaware that he could hold a grudge for so long.
You left me. He wanted to scream and punch and kick. You left me and my people behind and let others write cruel things and degrade me and you have the nerve to look like I am doing wrong by you?
The little boy that Francis had so readily dropped, the one who had been taught to toss each note from his mother into the fire for safety, the one who had received more and more inflammatory letters from Alfred, accusing him of motivations and thoughts he did not have, that boy who was so utterly isolated and alone… Save endless letters from his mother, promising she was on her way. Be a little more patient, they were nearly there. She nearly had him.
But then his uncle showed up, teaching him a language and music that Matthew still sang to this day. Then finally his mother came. For good. Never to be torn from him without his consent.
His mother, who at the time could barely stand on her own two feet for more than an hour at a time, would hold him, making promises she had no way of keeping, and making Matthew swear them in return.
He had been utterly ruined by his family, Matthew knew this.
“Mattie, darling,” England called, voice pulling the two men apart. “Come here please.”
Matthew knew, and yet he did not care.
With no response to Matthew’s dismissal given by Francis, Canada turned away, abruptly ashamed, to see England watching the interaction. She smiled, for as much as she was Francis’ ally, as much as she had all but announced that she would fight and die alongside him, she still got a terrible satisfaction from seeing the two unreconciled. She was horrid, she knew it. She did not care one whit, so long as Matthew stayed with her.
Francis visibly twitched as the saccharine woman, giving one more chide before he too exited the room for some fresh air.
“You really are the oddest creature,” he uttered, slapping her upside the head as he passed. She hissed, annoyed that her head had taken two knocks that day, but Francis continued on, quite determined to be ignorant of her two guard dogs and their venomous glares. He pushed past Erin and Alasdair, the latter of whom bit his lip, then gave chase.
Evelyn heaved a sigh. Picking up one of the pearls, she inspected it in the artificial light. Perfect, smooth, cream. Kiku really had given her his best.
“Do you think you’ll be at war by the end of the year?” Maia asked, returning to sitting next to her uncle.
England peered at the closed door Germany had left through, still twirling the peal between her fingers.
“Me? You? All of us? It depends, truly, on the German. And not the end of the year. Next month.”
“What?”
“We cannot stop it. This July crisis has fallen from our hands. All we do now is watch. Everything else will be set aside.”
The sound of the other door slamming shut, Erin finally having had enough, echoed throughout the room.
“I am sorry,” England stated, quite blithely. Her children looked at her, shocked at her open apology, “for what it is worth. I get the feeling we’re all going to have rather a hell of an experience in a wee while.”
*****
Historical Notes:
- The Anglo-Japanese Alliance was signed in January 1902. Responses were… mixed everywhere except the UK and Japan, who were both pretty happy with what they got. You can actually go read the original Hetalia strip for a (sort of) run down of what happened lol.
- France was actually rather content with it too, as there was a clause that specifically stated that each partner would only need to go to war for the other if two or more countries were on the opposing side. This gave France an out from supporting Russia in the Far East, and an excuse to further cosey up to Britain against Germany. If France helped Russia, Britain would get pulled in, and they didn’t want that. After the Entente Cordiale a couple years later, Japan didn’t have much to fear from other nations supporting Russia.
- Lo and behold Japan and Russia had a war, which Japan comfortably won. Britain helped out a bit, and the alliance was renewed. This required Britain to do some rather twisted lying to the Dominions (and by extension the US) to justify it, who were incredibly uneasy about the whole thing (racism).
- Kaiser Wilhelm ran his mouth a lot. His rants to the Daily Telegraph and William Hale in 1907/08 showed how unstable he was. Again, it convinced the UK that Germany had no interest in peace.
- Pearl is a 14th century poem written in Middle English. Its language has been modernised many times over the years. It is mainly a religious piece, but the grief of the father and his dead little girl is heartbreaking. Well. That’s one interpretation.
- In the summer of 1914 the Liberals were trying to get the Irish Home Rule Bill passed. It was the 3rd time they had tried, and oh boy was it controversial, not least in that WWI meant everything got pushed back six years and the delay started a Civil War. I really didn't know where and when NI should appear in this. In canon Hima has treated it like a two Italy's situation in that they were babies together but.... ooft. Um. Um... Anyway!
- The July crisis… Well. Let Horrible Histories explain it. The Belgium neutrality ‘scrap of paper’ excuse may have been just an excuse. Britain really couldn’t face the idea of France losing a war, so terrified of a German dominated continent, so they would have gotten involved regardless of any Belgian neutrality being violated. It just gave them the excuse of the moral high ground. The Dominions didn’t get much of a voice in any of this.
Link to Chapter Twelve.
