Brief explanation: I took some heavy artistic license and reimagined the family structure a little a la Humon's Scandinavia and the World comic. Here, "England" is modeled on SatW's England and is the dad of the family (representing the royal family and citizens of the UK) and "Iggy", the Hetalia version, is the British military/law enforcement (Scotland Yard, MI6, etc.) and the oldest brother, since I liked both characters and that was the easiest way I could figure out to include them both.(I also made the whole family a little more loving than they are usually portrayed.) The other siblings Canada gains on his adoption are America and Sealand (who is still an infant). "Marianne" (the name for the historical personification of France) is dad England's cousin and Canada and France's mother. Disclaimers: Nothing allegorical in any of the events and I am not claiming complete historical accuracy.I do not own Hetalia or Scandinavia and the World, I have no hidden agendas other than writing a (hopefully) charming story. And no, I don't hate the French.
Chapter One: At the Front Door
England looked up sharply from his paper at the knock on the door. Who on earth could that be at half past seven in the morning? He glanced at the rest of his family sitting round the table. Iggy was munching on his toast and America was busy drawing circles in his cereal with his spoon. They didn't seem to notice... hmm. He must be hearing things. Then a second, louder knock sounded at the door. This time, Iggy looked up too, and America cried, "Daddy, who's that?"
"I don't know, son," England replied. Iggy got up and headed for the door.
"I'll get it, Dad," Iggy called as he made his way to the foyer. England lifted his teacup and took another sip of his Earl Grey tea as he perused the football scores in the sporting section. Iggy soon reappeared with a strange expression on his face.
"Dad?" He motioned for England to come to the door. England got up and went to the door as Iggy resumed his place at the table. America started to say something, but Iggy put his finger over his lips, indicating that his little brother needed to be quiet.
At the door, England was greeted by a startling sight. His cousin Marianne stood at the door, as fashionably dressed as ever and with the same haughty expression on her face. With her was a small child.
When Marianne spotted England, she shoved the child forward. "Nigel, please," she cried. "You have to take this thing off my hands. I simply can't stand it around me anymore."
England was aghast. "Thing?" he thought to himself as he looked at the small boy standing, quivering from head to toe, in front of him. He was adorable, blond hair, wide blue eyes (although at that moment he was squinting nervously up at England) and a little upturned nose... so cute... but it was obvious that he was badly neglected. Hair matted, face and hands filthy, worn, ill-fitting clothes... he even looked awfully small for his age, which was six years old. (Let it be known here that Marianne was immaculately groomed... she wasn't too poor to care for him, she was a very selfish woman who had a habit of neglecting and abandoning her children.)
His gaze returned to his cousin. Through clenched teeth, he growled at her, "HE is not a thing. He is a child, a little boy. And you don't deserve him. Send me the papers."
"I will," Marianne sniffed. "I cannot abide that creature." It took everything within England to keep from shoving that miserable woman off his front porch. He glared at her and said angrily, "Have you or anyone for that matter even bothered to give the lad a name?"
"Mathieu," Marianne replied nonchalantly,"but I didn't choose the name. Just keep it, Nigel, no one else wants it. I know that I don't. What a horrid little monster. I don't care what you do with it."
That was the last straw for England. "Get out of here now, Marianne," England barked. "Just go. Mail me the adoption papers. I never want to see you again!" Marianne's only reply was to toss her head and sniff. She turned around and tottered down the porch steps on her very high heels. She climbed into her expensive sports car and roared away, seemingly unaffected by the whole scene that had just unfolded.
"What a nasty piece of work," England muttered to himself. "Not fit to care for a houseplant, much less a child..." His thoughts were interrupted by a small sound beside him. He looked down to see the tiny boy sobbing quietly into his dirty hands. "Oh, my," England said softly. He knelt down and immediately the child threw his arms around England's neck and pushed his little face into the man's shoulder, mumbling something that England couldn't understand.
"What, pet?" England said softly, stroking the boy's tangled and filthy hair. "I didn't hear you." Because he had been crying, and had such a thick French accent, he was difficult to understand. England had to get him to repeat himself a few times to clearly make out what he was saying.
"M-m-maman doesn't w-w-want me anym-m-more," the little boy whimpered. That statement was more than enough to squeeze a few tears from England's eyes. He rested his cheek on the crown of the boy's head and drew a deep breath before replying.
"Don't worry, little man," England whispered, holding the child close. "I want you. You'll be a part of my family now."
"W-w-will you be my papa?" the little one asked in a tiny voice. He sniffled, trying to wipe his nose on the back of his hand. England pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the lad's face, nodding as he did so.
"Yes, my little fellow, I'll be your papa," England told him gently. He stood up and lifted the boy into his arms. "Now let's go inside and meet your new brothers."
*Next chapter coming soon*