A. Kirkland

Once a pirate, always a pirate I may turn this into an rp blog since I'm not using it. Have at.

[once-a-pirate]

Did I ever organise these...

Verse: Transcending Time

Mother (Elizabeth I)

Revolutionary War (Solider)

New Years Eve (Historian)

Conference (Historian)

The last beginning (Isle)

also is this all of them dfgh

[once-a-pirate]

When she reached again for him Arthur drew her higher so that she could more comfortably hold onto him, and mid-adjustment found himself flinching, hypersensitive, at the little pats. For a moment Arthur just stood like that, watching her, holding her, expression unchanged even when realisation hit.

She was immortal. 

It wasn’t exactly a glamourous life; there was no real escape from it, it wasn’t ever simply over one day. To be used as a weapon. Arthur could never experience being mortal in the way a human would, even should Europe as a whole fall, and she had been lucky to live amongst them. She had once witnessed their regenerative abilities – they restored quicker if killed, sometimes they retained wounds over a short time, but one day she would experience an otherwise mortal wound in this body if and would watch as it healed before her. It was raw and gruesome, and violent as some of their lives.

Immortality meant watching the world age and die without them.

It was a sobering reality, though Arthur realised the fates could have chosen a kinder end, for her to never have fallen in love with him, for Alfred to be amongst their count. And this, the connections, he pushed aside; above all that she would be with them until time stopped. All these years and he had wanted nothing but the same.

They were meant to stay longer.

“Let’s go home…”

[once-a-pirate]

glorianabess:

Elizabeth looked to Arthur as she noticed the struggle he had with the child, however brief it was. She wanted to approach Arthur, to draw him in against her, but she needed to remain calm, though she didn’t feel calm. Gaze dropping once more, she looked to the child as he protested, and then attempted to present himself in a manner that let Elizabeth know he had spent a considerable time with her love. Even in the midst of her awe, she managed a small smile at the corners of her lips before carefully moving to her knees; this was an attempt to make herself level with the child, but it also caused some panic in the room as some of the court members moved to make themselves lower as well, while others remained too dumbfounded to move. She ignored the lot, entranced with the child and the potential offer, and an opportunity that her Arthur was presenting to her.

“You need not be so hard, little nation,” she said gently, “Your kind is safe in my keep… What is your name?”

“I’m America,” he began, shyly, looking around again as a murmur spread across the court. He didn’t back up this time - he had shuffled back a few steps when everyone moved in confusion, though he began to wring at his sleeves. “The name Arthur gave me is Alfred...”

“--Jones.” Edmund cut in hurriedly, a rough play of a whisper.

The voice was immediately followed by a sharp “What?” as Arthur twisted to eye him menacingly. The old man only smiled at him; they’d been fighting over this the entire journey after teasing the boy with tales of sea monsters and superstitions. Alfred had pretended to be Davy Jones, breathing steam and come to collect the souls of the crew. They battled with mops and deck brushes and it took two days to cover a few hours worth of chores after that. Arthur was tired of hearing it but Alfred’s face lit up brighter than the sun.

“Alfred Jones!” He chirped, hands held up in tight fists by his shoulders. Too late; he’d been introduced to the queen by that name and it was official. That’s how it worked, right? He relished in that victory, grinning excitedly, unease forgotten, and bounced up on his toes. “My name is Alfred Jones!”

He didn’t need to look back at Arthur to know that green eyes were boring a hole into the back of his head; he could feel the stare he was receiving. Elizabeth was human, he could tell that much, but there was a feeling about her that was familiar and he couldn’t shake it. “And you are! Are you gonna be my mum? Arthur says he feels old if I don’t use his name.”

“That’s enough now.”

[once-a-pirate]

Alongside his usual writing, and promises to behave, Arthur would drop briefings at the end of each whether they were concerning his frustrations with the men he travelled, the sometimes stormy nights, and later he bragged how never once they raised red sails. Their ship hadn’t been alone in the journey and although it caused a general unease the men had all managed to put up with one another easily enough. Weren’t they together in heckling Spain now? Neither, never once, did he bring mention of Alfred coming along in his uncertainties.

Truthfully, returning to the Americas to fetch the child hadn’t been entirely his own idea. Arthur enjoyed the company of very little and cared for less, keeping only a couple friends over his lifetime. Japan and Denmark namely, though he spoke fondly of Norway for his creatures and similar abilities it had been the wilder one of that lot who really paid him any mind, and the white knight of Europe, Prussia (more of a troublemaker, really, if you asked Arthur). Gilbert was, to put it nicely, rather peculiar for a holy man but it had been him and one of the older (and much more kindly) siblings, Hesse, to plant the seed. He had looked thoughtfully at little Holy Rome, busying himself off in the distance, and insisted it was different for this family. The distance involved concerned a few months of travel…

Gilbert won in the end, as usual, of course.

Those thoughts stayed with him on the trip there. What if he wouldn’t come? And on the way home, had he been worried for nothing? Would telling Elizabeth of the plan have altered the outcome? Who knew. As it was, he had been happy to reunite with his boy, and gladder yet when they stepped back on his own lands together.

Together.

Where Arthur had failed to greet Elizabeth properly Edmund made quite well up for it. The blond puffed up under her stare, smiling broadly and lopsided, too pleased with himself to remember. Arthur loved and respected the woman greatly but it was usually for the sake of formalities in front of their people to address her the way they expected of him. Right now? Right now he was more interested in her reaction to what was visible of the young nation.

In contrast, Alfred hadn’t been quite so happy about the staring. He could feel her eyes on him – not the others, him, through heavy wool. Then Arthur took it away. He made a noise upon being revealed and ended up grabbing the worn lace of Arthur’s sleeve when attempting to retrieve the panel of coat. The boy had wide, vivid eyes, only less blue than Fearghas’, and rich golden tones to blond hair that was just long enough for the sections behind his ears to be pulled into a small tail at the back of his head. He felt Arthur push him and panicked. “No, wait!”

“Go on,” Arthur tried again, letting the old pirate help free his shirt’s cuff from the tiny fist. Alfred’s strength was something to be mindful of.

Alfred clutched then empty hands into little fists at his chest, pouted briefly up at Arthur, then fixed Elizabeth with the most convincing scowl he could even with one cheek inflated with air. He shoved his hands down and, with one final look back at the two men behind him, started forward.

[once-a-pirate]

@glorianabess

For a time it had felt strange being allowed in and out of the court without a summons; they couldn't control him. Now, even with a few months having passed since he'd returned to the sea, the only thing odd about it was that they didn't seem to bat an eyelid at the scruffy, haggard old man and child that followed him. Edmund had been his first mate since he was a boy stolen from the gallows and has since inherited the ship and crew in Arthur's absence, though he stepped away whenever he came back to them.

No one tried to stop him for the tattered clothing, grey and worn soft beneath a woollen coat so green it was nearly black, the cuffs and lining bright scarlet with gold braided cord as trim. It had a narrow hole in the left breast he never cared to patch up and a matching one, larger, in the back; the mark of a fight he'd lost a century or two ago. They didn't stop him for smelling of dried wood and the sea, and they didn't stop the not-so-immortal pirate that tailed after the countries.

Funny how he'd been concerned someone would manage to convince Elizabeth that he was gone for good.

Elizabeth not being in the room had been what caused Arthur to hesitate at the entrance and eye each individual as they whispered amongst themselves. Soon two hurried out of sight toward the back. Elizabeth not being there was not what caused his steps to be slow and careful when he finally walked forward – it was the small child doing everything in his power to trip him. Beneath the heavy coat, standing only a little taller Arthur's knee, a tiny America waddled tightly along, all but sewn to his leg. Occasionally he would peek out and make a valiant attempt to scowl at people the way he had seen Arthur do so and to appear half as threatening. Previously Alfred had been content to wander cheerfully between the two men. It was when they stepped inside and everyone looked that he ran to hide.

“Will one of you bring the queen to me?” Arthur called, quite loudly, in the event that wasn’t what the ones who’d left intended. “I’ve someone with me who would like to meet her.”

[once-a-pirate]

glorianabess:

He did remember. Her Arthur remembered her, even expected her. It was the touch of his hands, how cold they were, that made her begin to attempt to quell her tears, but she couldn’t quite get them to stop, now that relief had settled in place of the brief upset.

Regardless of more tears, Arthur’s gaze, and his attempts to focus on her features caused her to smile in return, at which point her fingers un-wrung from her skirts, and she reached her arms towards him.

“But look at me! I’m not goin’ anywhere,” she said through laughter, hoping the change in her demeanor would be more comforting, though he didn’t seem the least bit upset.

Even with only one of them, Alfred, being his by blood Arthur had ended up taking care of Matthew after a time and several others for short periods across the span of his lifetime so the reaction, picking her up, to little hands being stretched out at him had been automatic. An ingrained instinct he likely wouldn't be capable to get rid of. He took her under her arms to lift her while he stood, though he did manage to avoid bouncing her on a hip the way he may have had with his boys.

"I see you – I see you," Arthur hushed as he pulled her more securely against his waist and stared down at her through lowered lashes with a fondness that he had given only ever to her. He was a cold, violent man but his love for her was more than anything. Arthur loved Alfred, he loved his siblings, and he cared for a few others yet only she held his heart. Elizabeth and Elizabeth alone. None before, none after.

"How do you like that?" Maybe he wasn't done. "Now you'll be stuck with this rough old bastard forever."

[once-a-pirate]

That certainly got her attention. He'd thought it worked at first although she was still clearly unsure, evident enough in the way she fussed at her clothing. It was unfortunate she hadn't realised he was purposely instigating, or that he had admitted to it, but no matter--he'd simply have to tell her outright.

"Oh. No, my darling, not this time. In fact, I've come to expect your return." Arthur's movements were slow and a bit more hesitant than he would have preferred when he brought his hands up to small cheeks, skin chilled for the blood had drained from slender fingers in his excitement. He thumbed gently beneath her lash line at the tears that rolled free, the smile on his face having grown warm as he calmed down. "I ask again your forgiveness; I've allowed my suspicions to lead me into teasing you too greatly. I thought 'if not, a child wouldn't know'. Never once did it occur to me that this may be possible and yet...here you are."

Green eyes failed to focus fully, darting almost unnoticeably in a show of that while he tried to get a clearer view of her face. "I told you once before it didn't matter how many times, that I would welcome it again and again. But," Arthur paused to give her a look, voice levelling back out, "If you say this is the last I'm going to hold you to it indefinitely."

[once-a-pirate]

@elegance-and-wine

On a whim some years ago Arthur bought spare property where he then opened a café. The planning had been the easy part, perhaps not quite so easy as getting Francis in on it with the promised title of executive chef, it was getting it going after that which took the longest. It had only been open for a while when he'd invited Kiku to come by.

Luckily for his visit too for although Arthur almost ran in the wrong direction with the suggestions given, over time it allowed the café to grow into what it was today. He did what he could to keep the feel while moving it into a more sociable atmosphere – well, one part of it. While the house and original idea remained Arthur had, at some point, also purchased the building immediately adjacent to their building and had it fixed up just the same. The new property was small yet it was enough room to have a few tables and a 'u' shaped bar that let out into the kitchen where there had once been an empty wall. Empty after he'd rolled shelving away, that is.

The regular customers were easy to chase off, it was the house guests that sometimes stretched out the last bit. After that housekeeping was able to finish up and go home. The maids were gone, and Arthur closed and took care of any odd tasks leftover ('odd tasks' usually being cleaning up after the straggler or two if there were any after he let the girls leave).

Soon Arthur found his way to the back, bundled fabric in one hand and the remaining few glasses in another, and vanished behind a door. He was too busy wondering what sort of magic he'd need exactly to get that stain out of his lace tablecloth to notice Francis in passing, though quickly back-pedalled a few steps out of the scullery; he had time enough to set the glasses down for the activity in the kitchen to settle in. The Brit scrunched up his left nostril and squinted across the way at Francis, turning to start for the opposite side of the table he was busy at. "I closed up forty minutes ago, what the blazes are you still cooking for?"

[once-a-pirate]

It was safe to say that the smaller of the two understood about equally as much. The sheer amount of thinking Arthur wasn't doing didn't help a bit. For all the small encouragement Francis attempted his hands finally finding placement was what granted him the leeway he needed.

Arthur didn't like being touched.

This time, at least right then, might have been different. He didn't tense up. His usual reaction to Francis, that nervousness and dread, completely absent. Instead Arthur just furrowed his brow and pulled his hands to grab the sides of Francis' neck, fingertips rough against the back of his neck, thumbs firm on the corners of his jaw. On that sharp inhale something buried beneath all of it made sense.

There was no way to mask the inexperience; it was clumsy and lingering but he was sure of himself in spite of it. He kissed him harder, with more intent, used the hold to take every bit of control from him that he could.

Then, suddenly, Arthur broke the kiss by dropping heavily down onto his heels and jerking back far enough to see, where he then proceeded to simply stare at Francis' face. His eyes focused solidly on him, unwavering even should the Frenchman chose not to meet his gaze. The confusion was there – evident only in the deep twist of his brow, expression otherwise reading of frustration. By the time he found his voice it was already grating, if bewildered. "That isn't what I'd intended to do."

As for whatever it was he was originally angry with Francis over? For the life of him he couldn't remember why he'd come after him; he was far too preoccupied with attempting to figure out how that resulted in this. And more importantly, why?

Arthur looked at him a moment longer then jerked his hands up and off the other man as he regained more of his senses. He held them at chest level a second or so while he made little, incomplete gestures with his left hand, and since he was unable to find thought to match the movement settled for repeating himself, "That isn't what I'd intended at all."

[once-a-pirate]

Small headcanon collection mostly involving my own boys:

Leaving clothing in Arthur’s possession for a length of time often means forfeiting ownership of certain items. This was the fate of several shirts belonging to Fearghas (who buys clothing too big for himself and is already quite tall) as Arthur likes sleeping in them and will walk around in them during the winter. He wears them until they come apart, usually. This is also where Alfred’s bomber jacket vanished to although Arthur doesn’t wear it around.

In stories where Ireland is represented by Declan, Declan is the biggest offender and will, instead, go out of his way to bring home items with him particularly if the others try to discard of them. Of Arthur’s he has managed to get his hands on many of his swords and odd weaponry prior to the 1800s, flags, badges and other such artefacts. Arthur has managed to retain ownership of his favoured flintlock and frock. 

He has an old pair of ormer earrings Declan has his eyes on that he's always needing to reclaim.

Luckily, Arthur is much better at stealing than his brother.

[heartbreakhur]

[once-a-pirate]

can i just @glorianabess

[once-a-pirate]

Randomly selected canon notes that apply to this blog because I’m stalling on making a thread tracker:

It was a misconception that Arthur can’t swim.

There are a couple things he can cook well.

He is a somewhat competent artist.

Arthur is good to all of the young nations that he ended up taking care of.

Scotland, Ireland, and Wales are related by blood to Arthur through the same predecessor. 

[once-a-pirate]

Yes he was really going to be that way with her; it was all he could do to keep from crying, and he was happily ignoring that it did nothing for how his body shook.

In the end it was the softer tone that calmed him down, at least long enough to notice the glitter of light along the bottom of her eyes. Arthur scrubbed a bit at his face, still pink, as the remainder of then quiet laughter died out. Although he listened to her speak the key presses were now deliberate and he made a weak attempt at hushing her through weak gestures, not waiting for a reply to the text he shot Fearghas.

"I suppose it lucky I hadn't painted yet." Elizabeth could become rather vulgar when upset, something which made it rather clear when she didn't that he had gone on too long or she hadn't caught onto the reason for that teasing. Arthur did find himself laughing again under his breath when he moved to tuck the cellphone back into a pocket. "Dear, forgive me. I will buy you as many comfits and wafers as you desire."

[once-a-pirate]

Harder yet to mask was the surprise when she cursed and scolded him. Arthur watched his hands so that he wouldn't have to look at her, began very neatly folding the clothing in his lap to give the trembling appendages something to occupy themselves with. Yes, he'd been trying to taunt her. It seemed to work well enough; they progressed much faster than humans though they still acted as children when they were. Their amount of understanding sometimes couldn't override that nature. He spent her little tantrum smiling quietly to himself.

The last bit of that – the bit before her stamping. That was what he'd been hoping for.

Arthur set the tidy triangles of fabric off to the side while his other hand dug out a small phone, and looked up at her as he ran his thumb heavily enough over the keypad to depress a few buttons so that they would make a sound. His voice and laughter was as shaky as his hands but his eyes were bright and he pressed on; "Of course! Kiku will know more about cute clothing than I would! How silly of me; I'll ask him for help!"

[once-a-pirate]

When Arthur learned they would be meeting at somewhere besides a bar he made effort to convince her to come with him. It'd be easy for him to get her in, he told her. Baited her with Alfred; she hadn't seen him since the Revolutionary War for what it counted as. Whether or not it had been necessary to do, Arthur still brought up the chance to see him.

"Usually we spend the time bickering," he explained as he lead Elizabeth in after they arrived; they were nearly two hours early. Easier not to get caught. It was the old building, one he knew very well and for the most part he either watched her or looked down at the few supplies he'd brought with him to shuffle them around and recheck to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. "Alfred prattles nonsense, Francis makes crude comments. It goes on about the same until Ludwig shouts at everyone." Green eyes turned back up to her, excited chattering coming from one of the rooms ahead. "It's awfully rare we speak about the topics our people intend to cover; for us it's mostly an excuse to get together even though no one gets off well. That's not to say we don't make effort to discuss important things." Separating them from their people kept control mostly on the human side and they were all aware of it.

He'd tried to tell her this before they came of course, yet he felt he hadn't been true enough to detail. It still felt lacking; these conferences on their half were mostly chaos and he wanted to make sure she wasn't expecting progress out of it. He made it a point to let her know that they dressed formally only for face value. Arthur explained that Yao and Denmark often sneaked sweets in and probably to accept if offered, how a couple of them would sleep through the meeting, that Antonio likely wouldn't be there in favour of roaming the streets with Gilbert in the event he followed his brother. He had also attempted to describe to her in detail the personalities of most the others who she hadn't met in any of her previous lives, their greetings, or who wouldn't bother with who.

Suddenly the noise became a loud crash and Alfred spilled out into the hallway half on his back, his glasses managing themselves against the opposite wall. Arthur hadn't looked up in time to see how Alfred had fallen so just scrunched his face in mild confusion and annoyance, both of which left his face when Ivan very briefly appeared in the doorway to chase after Alfred, squawked loudly and spun on heel to quickly duck behind the door.

Alfred, who had been attempting to smile innocently at the pair, immediately rolled the rest the way over onto his back to cackle at the extremely girlish noise that had come out of the Russian nation. It was about then that Arthur realised the clothing Alfred was wearing were a few sizes too big for his body.

"What the hell are you two d--"

"Is not my fault!" Ivan squeaked, using the door to block his body as he peeked out from around the ledge. He was bent almost as low as the doorknob, only his eyes and one cheek visible, already a dark red.

Alfred just laughed harder.

[glorianabess]

Elizabeth knew that whatever she had to say about Francis or Antonio would not be well received, however it appeared as if her state, or perhaps even just her presence, tamed Arthur; knowing who she was seemed to cause him to accept what she had to say more than be frustrated by it, as had been made manifest in the several years past in this life. She felt a loss in not having his touch, and as he stood, her hand sought his free one, eyes lifted and watching him in an attempt to remain connected. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said, albeit more pathetically than she intended the words. She closed her eyes a moment later, an attempt to steel herself before she opened then again, and although she felt it, a few tears fell even still as she opened them once more. “Breath will be no less uncomfortable with a few pillows, Arthur… My Arthur, please remain. I don’t want to give this body a chance to betray me, and pass while you’re away.”

[once-a-pirate]

He could have handled being caught hold of. He could have perhaps handled those words well enough. The way she spoke them – the way her voice sounded? Arthur flinched and lowered his head, grit his teeth and ground his heels into the dirt. Arthur was a cold, brutal man who strived on chaos and violence, so why couldn't he be stronger than this? Why wasn't he strong enough to pull his hand away, insist, and do as intended? He wouldn’t be gone long, certainly a few moments at most.

In the end it was the tone of her voice that drove away the ire and left him with the pain. Arthur relaxed his jaw before he turned to look back at her, some of the heat in his cheeks fading when he saw the new tears on her face. He wiggled his hand free to step back and he settled on the edge of the cot again, this time upon one knee, and bent over her to kiss her forehead with both hands on either side of her face. "No," he said quietly, thumbs carefully tending to the wet at her temples, "I would never forgive myself for it, now that I know. I won’t leave you."

[once-a-pirate]

Catching sight of that grin, he wondered briefly if he'd need to carry her back to prevent her from running off.

He was patient with her, taking the time to study how she moved and held herself to better determine what he could of her immediate personality. She didn't seem afraid of him or take the idea of leaving badly. That was as good as they were going to get right now, probably. The giggling and rocking? He couldn't decide whether it meant she were sweet or mischievous.

If she hadn't followed up with the nickname attached to 'usually' he might not have thought anything about the idea that she, or one of the others, had chosen that particular name.

England turned down his head and looked at her sideways in partial squint, his brows set low and the smirk that settled on his lips was incredibly suspicious; they weren't terribly new to this. That first one he'd never thought it possible to happen to them. He'd been in denial the entire time with the letters up until too late for they couldn't be so lucky, it couldn't happen twice. When Fearghas brought her to him and declared his findings he'd been entirely willing and eager to accept it, if a wee bit sceptical. He'd originally thought the letters to be a bad joke since he had entrusted his brother with being told about Thomas, and upon investigating later he'd accepted that the Scot wasn't quite so cruel.

Something like this? It wasn't possible.

Thick lashes lowered and Arthur dropped his gaze to the coat laid over his legs. "I see," it was hard to force a neutral tone. He scolded himself internally for the idea even coming to mind faced with a situation like this, plucked a bit at the cloth beneath his hands a moment before looking back up. "You've a lot to live up to being named after my queen, little miss."

"Now, I wonder what sort of clothing they are packing for you? I had a boy before so I couldn't help to be excited when they told me this new little one was a girl. You've lovely hair, you know, they didn't warn me about that. It'd be a crime to pair that with certain pinks." Arthur sighed and set an elbow on the still raised knee and his chin in that hand, making a poor attempt at masking his suspicion with thoughtfulness. It'd do no good to get his hopes up like this, the voice in the back of his head chimed in, but he supposed the joking wouldn't come off that way to an actual child. "This one shop has a lovely dress about your size with butterfly sleeves, a matching bonnet and cat print..."