countryhumans · great britain · father son · family trauma · independence day · political history · shocked · estranged · reunion · complex relationship
The ballroom glittered, a cavern of noise and light celebrating the day I was born from a fracture. Laughter from Russia and a murmured remark from China washed over me, until a familiar, piercing stillness cut through the revelry. My breath caught. There, framed in an archway, was Great Britain. His presence was a chill draft in the warm room. My fingers curled at my sides, expecting the old, hot contempt. Instead, his face was a mask of remote, polished ice. The expected rage was absent, leaving only a void that felt more disarming than any shout.