Memories

Chapter 1

The screen suddenly turned white before a scene started taking place.

An old city was shown, people milling about in mostly rags. A small blonde figure was shown to be making his way through the people and the tight streets, avoiding puddles and sewage systems. The figure wore an ill fitting green cloak and white rags underneath.

"Why I was asked to come here, I have no idea. I don't even know who I'm supposed to be meeting." The blonde boy spoke, coming to a stop in front of a fancy building. The figure pulled his hood down revealing just how messy and unruly his hair was, emerald green eyes, and massive caterpillar like eyebrows.

England had an unamused look on his face as he knocked on the sturdy wooden door.

"Oh! I remember this." France let out a sigh.

"Yes, I suppose you would. Why did it have to start with a memory of mine first though." England grumbled quietly.

America and other's who hadn't seen the Brit at that age, were surprised, the blonde yank even letting out a snigger.

"Dude, you look hilarious!"

"I don't understand how, damn fatass!" England became flustered, glaring at the other.

There were a few other laughs and comments before Germany, having gained control of the remote, pressed play.

The sound of footsteps from inside of the building were heard as England waited somewhat patiently. It wasn't long before the door was opened and in the entryway stood a blonde teen. The male had bright blue eyes and longer hair than usual. He looked about sixteen, maybe seventeen but that was pushing it.

"What can I do for you?" France asked, an uninterested look on his face.

"You're France right?" The smaller blonde asked and received a nod in return.

"And you are? Wasting my time probably." The blonde teen replied with a slight smirk, running a hand through his luscious locks.

"How rude! No wonder I've heard so many wonderful things about the French!" England retorted, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"Oh I'm wounded, I truely am." France barked out a laugh, not loosing the smirk and the superior look on his face.

"Frog..." The child hissed under his breath, emerald eyes narrowed.

When the Frenchman's laughter finally died down, he turned to the child more seriously. "Now, was it something you actually needed? Or did you come just to bother me? I do have other priorities you know, being a country and all." Albeit, he still managed to sound smug.

"Answering your question from earlier, I'm England, and I was sent here to deliver you a letter from my King himself." The Brit replied confidently.

France looked surprised for a moment before a more neutral expression settled on his face. "Oh. I have heard of you. You're the newer country to the north of me, across the channel. Can't say I'm impressed so far."

"What is that supposed to mean?" England asked, growing confused and slightly insulted.

"Well I've head lots about you. Some from Rome himself. Were you even alive when he invade the North? Probably not. You're far less superior than any of us, us being Rome's grandsons." France explained cockily, grinning at the smaller blonde. Said blonde was shocked, jaw hanging slightly open. His eyes revealing the slowly growing anger he was feeling though.

"Now, what did your little king want, you've already wasted enough of my time as it is." The teen continued, his expression remaining the same.