Curses
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
"Who dares to sit in Busby's Chair?" asked England, eyes narrowed in a malevolent gesture of doom. "Russia, leave."
"Aw..."
The tall nation sadly left the meeting room (Belarus lifted her scissors threateningly at England); England confidently set the chair at the head of the table.
"None of you dares to sit in this cursed chair. You shall all bow down to me—"
"I sit in your chair."
A collective, "Huh?" issued from the other nations in the room as the previously emptied chair was suddenly occupied by a bored-looking nation with dull blue eyes. A hair curl floated on the side of the nation's head, precariously twitching near a cross-shaped barrette.
"Who're you?" Romano asked bluntly.
"Yo, Norway, what'cha doin'?" belted a grinning Denmark, who was contentedly taking huge gulps of "water" from a gallon-sized cup, much to Finland's chagrin and Sweden's general indifference.
"Proving that England is a failure," replied the nation sitting in Busby's Chair. A blue aura collected around the chair, before it shattered into a thousand particles of dust. England gaped.
"Are we done here now?" asked Norway, getting up and brushing chair-dust from his sweater. "I'm leaving."
"Wait!" yelled England, a deranged look entering his eyes. "You can't destroy Busby's Chair and just leave! I challenge you to a battle of supernatural abilities!"
A silence permeated the room... before several countries laughed. Norway, however, remained serious as he stared down England.
"A challenge? I suppose I have to accept..."
"That's right!" said England, pointing an accusing finger at the Nordic nation. "You're going to pay!"
Norway left the room.
"Hey, come back here!" screamed England, tearing after Norway.
"Do you think they'll be alright?" said Finland as the other nations began to disperse. Denmark grinned.
"Norway'll be fine, but I dunno about England! I so wanna check this out!"
And with that, Denmark raced after the other two nations. Finland turned to the only other Nordic nation in the room (Iceland being mysteriously absent...).
"Should we try to stop them?"
Sweden turned his perpetual glare to Finland.
"OHYAAAAA!"
"No," Sweden muttered.
Sweden quickly grabbed one of Finland's hands and pulled the blushing nation away.
In the meantime, in a courtyard outside the building...
Norway stood across from England on a large field riddled with complex diagrams of death, destruction, and despair that England had prepared. Denmark guffawed from the sidelines.
"Now," said England, a shadow covering his features while highlighting his obnoxious eyebrows, "prepare to suffer!"
He raised a hand and plunged it onto the ground.
Lightning burst from one of the diagrams, followed by a large crack of thunder. The electricity flew straight at Norway at a speed that was guaranteed to strike the nation, a flying bolt of lightning that would leave Norway twitching on the ground in agony as England stood atop him laughing and proclaiming his triumph over the pitiful Nordic nation—
The lightning missed.
"Huh?" England stared blankly at the still-standing Nordic.
"You missed," Norway informed him. "Pitiful."
Meanwhile, behind Norway, the unfortunate Canada had been struck by the lightning; he managed to choke out a, "Why me?" before tumbling to the ground in an unconscious pile of burnt bones.
"I'm not done!" yelled England, shaking his fist dementedly at Norway. "Take this!"
A devastating wave of water rose from another diagram, rising higher and higher, towering over any skyscraper, before falling to the ground. The fluid strength of the water would through the Nordic nation into the ocean before the water would engulf him in a solid sphere of un-breathable liquid, and after Norway fell unconscious from the lack of oxygen, England would conquer the nation and—
The water evaporated.
"WHAT?" thundered England. "THAT MAKES NO SENSE!"
"I don't know why I'm wasting my time here," sighed Norway. "You, on the sideline, shut up." Denmark immediately stopped laughing.
"I'm not done! I still have one unbeatable weapon, one devastating spell that will tear you limb from limb!" A creepily enthusiastic expression rose onto England's face as he thought about tearing people apart. Finally, he intoned, "I summon, from the farthest reaches of the world, you, the creature of everyone's darkest nightmares, the one everyone fears, who hides your inner demonic spirit by exhibiting a childish nature on the outside, while preparing to eat everyone and demolish everything in your mind! I summon you, evil spirit of the—"
"You called?"
Russia's head popped out of England's diagram. England paled before stomping Russia's cheery face back into the ground.
"NOT YOU!"
Norway sighed before raising an arm and extending pale fingers out to a disheveled England. "Let me show you true power," said Norway. A menacing aura gathered around the Nordic nation, pulsing and gaining strength, rapidly consuming the air surrounding him as it sucked the life from the very veins of plants. The pulsating power compacted into... a fairy.
England stared, and then sniggered.
"A fairy? A fairy is the best you can do?" he choked, laughing harder than he had in the past hundred years.
"You know what to do," said Norway, gently tossing the fairy into the air. The fairy's iridescent wings shimmered in the sunlight as it flew over to England and landed on his shoulder.
"Hey, what do you want?" said England, attempting to poke the fairy (and failing, for the sprite deftly dodged England's fingers).
"I want you to die!" giggled the fairy, before it morphed into an obscenely large and ugly troll that proceeded to chase England (who was shrieking at a pitch that would have deafened anyone had the troll not been roaring over his voice) all around the building.
Denmark was gasping for air at this point.
"I think you won!" Denmark laughed raucously. Norway turned his silent eyes on the other Nordic nation.
"Shut up before I set a troll on you too."
Denmark shrugged, simply sitting back and smiling serenely as he and Norway watched England running for his life from the troll (who had summoned a large battleaxe from Denmark's house) that was now energetically attempting to cleave England in half.
Norway allowed a smug twitch to briefly mar his perfectly bored appearance.