Ireland's smile disappeared at that, and she rolled her eyes. Goodness but her brother could be a petulant brat sometimes. And that just made it all the worse. "Honestly, Arthur," she muttered under her breath, running a hand through her own hair this time. "Wishin' 'twas Scotland you'd angered, 'tis easier for me to be breakin' his curses, our magic bein' so similar."

She smiled again though, when he leaned against her, placing her hand on his head. "Still, 'tis only difficult, nay impossible. Just needin' to be doin' some research and hope he wasnae stickin' a time limit on it. He might have been makin' it complicated, but I've two thousand years experience on him." She looked at him up and down. "Though first, should be findin' clothes what fittin' you, cannae be lettin' you stay in a blanket. Thinkin' I've some of North's old clothes still."