Chapter Text
It seemed that a kind of spell had fallen over the vast Islands of Great Britain. All along the country from the long swathes of rugged greenary in Yorkshire to the sighing tides of Brighton and Cornwall, to the usually bustling metropolises of the great cities; London, Edinburgh, Manchester, Cardiff, Liverpool there was a long, drawn out pause in daily life. The arteries of the countries roads slowing; as though the heart of it was stuttering and missing beats.
Shops closed early, the doors barred and the shutters drawn. In schools the usually rambunctious children were pulled away from their sums and lines to instead be herded from their bright classrooms by harrassed looking teachers into various halls to sit, cross legged in neat rows, to watch the televisions rolling into place before them as anxious head teachers told them, ashen faced, that they should all listen carefully.
In pubs across the land pints of all descriptions and games were abandoned; pool cues left to roll unheeded against grimy walls or the plush felt of the green tables. Darts were discrarded on the sticky sideboards. Men of all ages, races and creeds stood together in groups, grave faced and serious, all silent and all gazing at the TV bolted to the walls.
In homes of all shapes and sizes mothers stood at doorways or in the middle of floors. Some still held appliances in their hands; hoovers, phones, mops all of which seemed to be forgotten. Children too young to understand what was happening around them were shooshed loudly even as the voice on the television spoke.
In building sites, offices, bus stops and streets far and wide men and women huddled together, their usual activities curtailed for this momentous event, bodies leaning ever closer, uncaring of the fact that the people around them were strangers. All of them staring transfixed at a screen on a mobile phone or cocking a nervous ear to a crackling radio.
Every breath was held. Waiting. Every eye was trained on one solitary figure standing behind a dark mahogany podium.
A woman, with grey hair pinned back tightly, the pale pallour of her skin not completely hidden by her doubtlessly expensive make-up. The prime minister of Great Britain looked tired and frazzled, her face suddenly seeming older than it had done only days before. In her hands she held a single sheet of white paper that curled faintly at the edge, as though it had been passed to her hurriedly, by a speech writer who had been given thirty minutes to write a peice of history. Her back was very straight as she stared down the barrel of the camera lens, looking out at every man, woman and child in the country her thin mouth seeming to shrivel further as she waited for her cue to begin her speech. After several more moments as the sound technician completed his checks she took a final steadying deep breath. With a stiffening resolve burning behind her cold grey eyes she addressed the waiting nation.
"People of Great Britain, my fellow countrymen and women.
As many of you may be aware on the 14th June Russian tanks proceeded to illegally invade the peaceful country of Moldova. As a member of the United Nations, the European Union and as a long standing friend and ally to the country of Moldova our foreign secretary has worked tirelessly to broker a treaty and set out sanctions during diplomatic meetings with the Russian and Moldovan ambassadors in the hopes to rectify this clear breakage of both the Geneva convention and the rules and governances of the UN in the proceeding weeks since this event. After many failed diplomatic meetings Russian soldiers were then reported and later verified to have scouted and overcome territories on July 31st in the Ukraine and Hungarian border. At 12pm yesterday afternoon the British government along with the German, French and Polish governments issued Russia with a final warning to remove their troops from this area.
It is with great regret that I must now inform you all that these warnings have not been heeded and Russia has made no moves to reduce its military presense in these regions. From the time of this announcement, it is my duty as head of government to inform you all that Great Britain is now in a state of war with Russia and all of its allies.
Following this announcement the ministry of defence and the newly formed war committee will be setting up volunteering stations at all large geographical areas in the country. The balance of the world rests upon a knife edge and it is the civic duty of all those who can to take up the call to arms to do so proudly. Throughout history this small but great nation has led the charge against dictatorships and the unsanctionable cowardice shown by its opposing foes. Never before have we failed in our task to inforce order where once there has been chaos. It is my stalwart belief that we will be no less successful on this occasion. Though the ensuing weeks and months may be trying it will never be said that the spirit of this nation was broken by these events. Together, we shall fight on for what is just, for what is right, for what it means to be British!"
Behind the woman, from the suddenly thrumming discs of many speakers, the first few bars of the national anthem began to wend its way into the silent air.
All around the country the Britsh people stared at one another as the phrase in everyones mind hissed through space like fireworks on a balmy autumnal evening, their shared message bursting across the minds eye at the same time. Explosive and incendiary. Some spoke the words fearfully, gazes flicking towards children or lovers, others breathed it victoriously, their eyes glazing over in realised glee. Most spoke it disbelievingly though, mouths slack, spines suddenly tingling with fear and unrealised trepidation.
"We are at war..."