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England couldn’t help but wonder how the man sitting across the table had changed. They had gathered once again for their bimonthly DnD meeting in England’s, as America had so graciously called it, “Witching room”, which he occasionally used for spell summoning and the likes. It was his turn to host and this was the room most suited for the task.
As Romania took the dice to roll his turn, England couldn’t help it as his mind drifted to a different time long ago when they were centuries younger.
When the raids were in full force
Most people usually assumed Denmark was his greatest threat. Yes the Danish nation had a boisterous energy that could almost rival that of America and he was most certainly largely responsible for the Viking raids at the time. Sweden may have been the next obvious choice but England rarely ran into him and the one time he did the Swede just shooed him away like he was a mild annoyance.
No it was Norway who he really feared
When the Norsemen would appear they would send out the demons first. Men that howled and screamed, covered in the skin of bears and wolves alike. Their crazed eyes would glint murderously, as they fought barehanded. They killed indiscriminately with little to no regard for even their own men, which England guessed is why they were always sent out first to hack and attack his people like rabid wolves. It could only be the work of demons. But England knew “he” was always there amongst them he could sense it.
He wasn’t always present but when he was England would feel the raw magic he exuded. The one time he managed to catch a glance of him he was reminded of a rabid wolf. One that would rip him to shreds should he ever find him. England guessed his magic could also be sensed as well so he did the logical thing and made sure to avoid him.
That was until one day, when during a particularly violent raid he was preoccupied with escaping the Danish nation who was currently being occupied with Scotland. Which gave him time to escape. He ran into the forest and climbed the nearest tree. Deciding to move deeper into the forest he began to edge around the branches of the tree. That was until he felt it. Nearly faltering and losing his grip he held on tighter and adjusted himself on the sturdy branch for a proper view and surely there he was sitting on a log below him. The demon.
He was drenched in blood and England decided not to dwell on if it was from the man himself or from his own people who he had no doubt slaughtered. England examined him quietly. He could see an arrow sprouting out of the man’s back but if he knew it was there he made no move to remove it. He sat quietly hunched over as if he was deep in thought almost as if-
“You might as well come down”
The voice snapped England out of his thoughts abruptly because for one he should have remembered that if he could sense the man it was clear he could sense him as well and secondly he hadn’t expected this-this being to possess such a calm voice. It wasn’t scratchy and loud like the Dane or deep and hard like the other, no, this one was softer, still deep, but calmer and England found it rather jarring. But he knew when he had been caught and he quietly slid down the tree and made no further motion from his spot.
The man lifted his head and it was then England was truly able to take in all his features. The first thing he noted was that this man couldn’t have been all that much older than a young human adult. He had hair that England guessed was blonde, though it was matted with blood that England chose not to focus on. He was wearing wolf skin but otherwise his skin was bare and blood-stained as well and there was a dagger in his side but if it was uncomfortable he couldn’t tell. England thought he almost looked tired?
“You see them as well don’t you”
England realized he was being spoken too as his emerald eyes locked with the other nations deep lilac ones.
England nodded
The man let out a sigh and bent his head down again. England couldn’t tell if it was of relief or something else but he decided to move closer against all rational thought.
He didn’t know how long this guy would be in this subdued state for long. He decided to risk it
“Why” he asked through gritted teeth knowing it was a stupid thing and that he should just leave as the Danes could very well be anywhere near but he decided to kick rationality out the door as all of a sudden his apprehensiveness turned into anger
“Why, my people you kill them. You take and you take and you take,” England moved till he was within reach of the Northern nation. “You take and you kill and pillage and plunder and for what for some sort of satisfaction what more could you take from us.” England seethed
When no response came he felt he had possibly gone too far and that he was going to be ripped apart by this man for sure
But when the man slowly looked up at him again he didn’t see the eyes of a crazed barbarian.
He saw the eyes of a tired man
“I don’t believe I owe you any explanation for our actions.” He answered coolly
“The will of the people becomes ours to a certain degree. You should know that we are in no position to question orders.”
“This is just how it is. It is our time to conquer, perhaps because we are in the position to do so. Some enjoy it others not so much. Call it fate maybe.”
He arose which made England backtrack and trip over one of the tree roots landing on his backside as he scrambled back. This caused a brief flash of amusement on the Norseman’s face but as quickly as it appeared it was gone.
“Your chance may come or it may never.” He continued in his monotone removing the arrow from his back and throwing it aside.
For a moment his hand hovered over the dagger in his side but he thought against it and left it in.
“I will not harm you it would leave a bad taste to hurt someone who can also see the fair folk. Perhaps we shall meet again. Maybe someday under more pleasant circumstances. Change is an unpredictable thing especially in the lives of beings such as ourselves.”
He turned to leave
“I suggest you go West from here Dan won’t get you that way”
And he was gone
It took a moment for England to process what had just happened. He couldn’t believe he had survived this encounter. He heard the sound of other Norsemen and scrambled up to make his way westward before he was caught again, but he was suddenly hit in the head by
Dice?
“Oi Earth to England “Romania waved his arms in front of the English man
England blinked and said dumbly “Huh”
“Jeez” Romania said pointing to Norway “He’s the spacey one not you” a comment which Norway chose to ignore.
“Are you okay England “Asked Norway his voice flat as usual but with an undertone of concern
“Yes I was just-“
He looked at Norway, the stark contrast between the blood soaked berserker and the almost docile man in front of him was striking, and shook his head
“Reminiscing is all”
To this Norway raised an eyebrow
“Getting sentimental are we” Romania grinned nudging him playfully “I’m not going to pry but while you were taking a trip down memory lane Nor over here was able to level up and you may be in a bit of trouble”
This promptly brought England back to reality
“Oh am I now” he said scanning the board
Norway only smirked
“Not if I have anything to say about that” England said a playful smile on his face
“Oh no spare us great and powerful DM” teased Romania
England only huffed in response which caused Norway and Romania to chuckle
As England picked up the dice Norway’s words rang in his head
“Change really is an unpredictable thing”
And he rolled his dice.