Summary: When a lot of the nations are starting to turn into their past selves, England and Iceland knew that they should stop the reversal spell from spreading before it's too late.

Characters: Mainly England and Iceland, a few magical creatures and probably all of the nations if I could.

Pairings: None

Warnings: First ever story / English is my second language / Posted on mobile / Not beta read / Probably some grammar and spelling mistakes / Ongoing editing / Quite a lot of swearing / Translations may not be accurate / Possible OOC

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!

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A strong wind along with a beam of light woke the sleeping Iceland. The nation, still groggy from the lack of rest, took a look at the clock.12:36 P.M., it read. He grumbled and mentally prepared a speech to scold his big brother, Norway, for using magic once again in the middle of the night.

Slowly, he went out of his room; battling to maintain an angry expression instead of a somnolent face. As he was approaching the basement, he realized something odd. The rays were a bright green, very different from the usual violet Norway has.

As he cautiously peeked through the ajar door, he saw the back of a stranger's messy blonde hair and pitch black coat. His big brother is obviously taller than that and has a noticeable curl. Whoever this man is, he broke into their house and is currently destroying it. Or maybe Norway is a traitor and was chanting a spell to change his appearance so that he could fool the Nordics; but failed since Iceland saw it all.

His assumptions about his big brother abruptly stopped when he saw someone familiar tied up in a corner, struggling to free himself. Even though he is wearing weird clothes that seems to come from medieval times, it was definitely Norway. And England is holding him captive.

Panicking, he immediately ran towards England and pushed him aside with all his strength, making the older nation stumble and his spell to stop. He quickly untied Norway, who in return gave an unexpected vicious smirk, eyes glinting dangerously.

He stood up, shoving Iceland away in turn. "Fífl!" Manic laughter filled the room before his big brother's impostor escaped.

England groaned in frustration and face palmed. Iceland, still confused on what to feel on the situation, just simply stood frozen in place. Too many questions are flooding his head. What is England doing here and why is Norway acting strange?

"Great," the Brit sighed harshly. "You let that bloody Viking get away, you brat!"

Iceland, now wide awake, squinted his eyes at the furious England. "Norway? A Viking?"

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A/N:

Translations:

Fífl = fool (Old Norse)

I finally managed to edit this x3

Let me know if I have mistakes! Thank you for reading! *hugs you*