Little feet scampering about. Only a few at a time, but they were brought, a few at a time. It would be bad for them to be here for long but there were so many British colonies. England kept going out and fighting off the other Europeans to get land here, land there, land so far away that it took months and months to travel to.

What have you got yourself into, thought one man sitting alone on a bed. What's happened to the world? It used to be Rome, now his territories have empires themselves. Rome never reached me. Maybe I'd have an empire if he had.

The man looked disparagingly around the room. At least they'd tried to make it appeal to him - it was nice, admittedly. Someone had brought his cláirseach, his harp for him. Well that was nice, even if it was a bit battered-looking. Probably it was her, the one who was always trying to out-play him on her own harp. Who was she again… oh, right, his littlest sister.

Hm? There was a cloth on the table… oh…

He picked up the cloth. The stark contrast between the scarlet saltire and the white background. It was obviously a flag.

My flag. It was strange thinking of this design as his. Especially as it was picked so that his flag would fit nicely into that flag.

He looked up to the flag on the wall. So eye-catching to anyone who entered the room - or dragged bodily into the room like he had been.

A saltire, a X, blue and white as a foundation. A cross, red and white boldly in front. Another saltire added, red and white. He had to commend the designer, the flag was certainly unique. And it did look nicer than just adding a cláirseach into the centre like it had used to be.

"St. George's Cross… St. Andrew's Cross… and now my own. My, I'm flattered. Oh well, at least I didn't have to share one like Arthur and Gwynn. Well, Gwynn technically had Arthur's at least."

The man dragged his eyes away from the symbolic flag and gently held up the new St. Patrick's Cross design. "I wonder if they'll ask if I like it, Aisling…?" he wondered aloud to his absent fairy companion. "And I wonder if I truly do or don't." He smiled. "And you're not here, Aisling, am I going crazy?"

Ireland lay down on the bed. "What's happened to the world. Am I getting old, is this when everything seems to change too fast?"

He blew out. Eh, this wouldn't be that bad. It wasn't as though they hated him. Well, they didn't really think of him that much did they…

A little child was rushing through the old mansion-like building, twisting back to glance behind every ten or so seconds.

"Get back here!" somebody yelled, furious.

It wasn't even his master-empire, it was… um… a colony. He didn't know which one, just that it was one of the British colonies. Probably. He hadn't ever seen him before. Maybe he would ask when he stopped being mad.

"WHEN I FIND OUT WHO YOU ARE, YOU'LL- AAAHHH!" The other colony cowered back as the bugs scuttled here and there. "It stung me! I'm going to die! Why didn't he just leave me be?"

Feeling a bit guilty, but more scared of the vengeance that would crash on him if he faltered, the little colony dashed into a room.

"Phew…" he breathed out. He slowly opened his eyes when his heartbeat was normal again. "Scary…" He glanced around the room. Hm, that was weird. It was fancier than the colony rooms. Everything was better quality - and that was saying something, you know? England was fussy about furniture and stuff in his house!. He wondered whose room it could be.

"Oh, a colony," said a somewhat unsurprised voice.

"Gyahh!" screamed the colony. "Who are you?"

"I think you'll find that as the one who barged into my room, you're the one who should be introducing yourself."

Huh? He spoke English really fluently, like he'd been speaking it for centuries all the time! He must be close to England then. And he was older, so he mustn't be a colony - from what he'd gathered, all the colonies were young. This guy was older than England, now that you caught a glimpse at his face.

"Well? You're a colony? Which one are you?" asked the fluent-English speaking non-colony.

"Um, I'm… well, I'm not really all that sure," admitted the confused boy.

"Really?" said the nation. "Why?"

"Well you see, I'm more of a collection of colonies, mate."

There was a raised eyebrow. It was quite large. Was he… was he English? Wow, his hair was a really pretty colour. "Wow, your hair's a really pretty colour!"

"…Thank you?"

"I've never seen anyone with hair like that before! I mean, a non-human," edited the boy. "Some of the convicts had it like that though."

"My sister's got hair a shade darker, you've not seen her then? Strange…"

"Your sister? She's one of us?"

"Yes she is," said the man.

"Older or younger?" the boy blurted out.

"Hm. Depends on your point of view, really," said the man vaguely.

"I see," said the boy, not seeing at all. "Anyway, so who are you, mate?"

"Padraig O'Kirkland," said the man before shaking his head suddenly. "Eh, make that Patrick Kirkland now, I guess." He looked at the boy who was still looking for an answer. "Oh, right. Ireland, I'm Ireland."

"Pleased to meet you," said the boy happily.

"Convicts, you said? And a mixture of colonies… you're the penal colonies, aren't you? The ones on the other side of the world," was the man's guess.

"Yeah, that's me, mate," said the Australian penal colonies, or as he was just called, Australia. "You're really smart!"

Ireland flinched back in pleasant shock. "I'm smart? I'm not used to hearing that from anyone." He smiled. "Thanks."

"Huh? No problem, I guess. So, how are you living here? Are you a colony?"

"…No…" said Ireland slowly. "Britain are my brothers and sisters."

"Really? So… there's England and that woman with the hair your colour-"

"Scotland."

"Yeah, her. Isn't there anyone else?"

Ireland thought about it. "Yes, there is. Not entirely sure where she is at the moment, but…" he looked down at the floor. "She's probably the nicest to me of the lot of them…"

"Why?" Ireland jumped, having forgotten about the boy.

"I just mean, she… ah… she brought my cláirseach over here for me. I've never known for sure, but it could only have been her."

Australia looked surprised. "And how d'you know it was her? What's a cláirseach?"

"Well… heh," Ireland laughed suddenly. "It all goes back to when we were small. I'll tell you about it one day."

"Why not now?"

"There's a very angry young lady outside the door."

"Oh bloody hell!"

"You bastard!" was the only warning from the 'young lady' Australia got before a fist connected with his face.

"Aaahh!" Australia said, clutching at his jaw. "What the hell's wrong with you?"

"Look at what your little pets did to me and Barbie!" Montserrat yelled, her arms swollen - though it hadn't dulled the strength of her punch. Barbados, who followed Montserrat in, looked furious at the nickname.

"I told you never to call me that!" He patted Australia on the shoulder. "She's not usually this pissy, but she wants to rebel against England but can't. Although… your pets hurt us a lot." He took on a more threatening stance. "So revenge will be ours." Australia cowered away as the colonies rounded on him. Ireland was about to intervene, when something happened.

"Leave him alone, kai a te ahi!" Small fists connected with the two heads. Barbados and Montserrat fell to the ground. A small person stood tall. The Caribbean colonies groaned. Australia - still on the ground, nursing his chin - looked up at his saviour.

The androgynous young colony - which, Ireland didn't know, he'd said there were too many - had light brown hair which formed strange curls unlike anything Ireland had seen before. It looked kind of like flattened sheep horns. The curse of the British Empire stood out proudly above gleaming satisfied brown eyes.

"…You might want to get those looked at," said Ireland, stepping into the conversation, worried for the Caribbean colonies. "They look really bad."

"Ireland?" Ireland blinked. He wasn't used to being called by name, much less by those he didn't know.

"Yes?"

"Oh my God! It is you!" cried Montserrat, ignoring her previous enemies. Her eyes lit up and a happy grin crossed her face. "You remember me right? You rescued me from Spain!"

Oh, right, that was who she was… Ireland did remember the occasion. "Rescued is a bit of a overstatement… I mean, Arthur just took control soon enough…"

"Big brother Ireland~" Montserrat cooed, leaping up to hug him. "I've been looking for you all over the house since you came." Ireland smiled at the suddenly bubbly girl. "Girls are strange," muttered Barbados. He glanced over at Australia and the unnamed colony. He was about to ask who the unnamed, indeterminate gendered colony was, when all of a sudden Australia leaped up to hug it.

"You're bloody beaut', you are, mate! Marry me!"

The colony with no name shoved Australia off. "What the hell?" it cried. "Get away from me! I help you and you attack me! Stupid Australian."

"You're cute, mate!" said Australia optimistically.

"Get the hell off me! Bloody idiot!" It suddenly stopped. "Wait. You don't know who I am, do you?"

"We've not me-"

A punch of doom to the head showed Australia that that wasn't perhaps the best answer he could have given. "Bastard!"

The colony stalked off, but not before Australia noticed a certain glimmer to the eyes of the other colony. Monteserrat glared at him, as did Barbados. "Apologise to her."

"Her? Um… sure," said Australia. He grinned at Ireland. "I'll see you soon mate!"

Ireland smiled back. "Looking forward to it. Just don't let your pets loose again."

Omake

Ireland held a pillow over his ears. The colonies hadn't paid him any attention when he'd politely asked them to go away.

"Yeah, no way that was a guy."

"No, I'm pretty sure it was a boy."

"Well you're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Well, you're the stupidest. You can't get stupider than the stupidest - so hah!"

"You're the exception!"

"You little-"

"All right! That's enough! Break it up!" Ireland snapped. "Outside! And don't come back 'til you've found out who that person was!"

"Got it, Mr Ireland!"

"FIRST DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR STINGS!" yelled Ireland as he saw the arms. They looked really terrible.

And thus Australia apologised to the young colony who turned out to be a boy named New Zealand. The gender never stopped Australia from his plans of marriage to the once-mysterious figure. AND IT NEVER SHALL. Hey Brett! You're reading this right? So how about it~?

"For the hundred-thousandth time! No!"