The view was fantastic, but they were the only ones there to enjoy it. As always, the grassy hillside was empty, save for the small white flowers that freckled the slope and the birds that dotted the sky above them. The green highlands extended endlessly in all directions, occasionally interrupted by a rocky tor, or a small village made up of nothing more than a jumble of houses and a name as old as the hills themselves. One such community was splayed out before them, just at the base of the incline. The small thatch-roofed houses were clustered together over the rolling landscape, like old women nattering with one another about whatever it is old women natter about. Just beyond the edges of the town's reach lay the lake, as still as glass. There was no one out today to make ripples on the still waters, no one on fishing boats or paddling on canoes, no tourists patrolling the silent lagoon, searching for a creature they never really believe they'd find. Today, the lake was quiet. Today it could rest peacefully.

"Do ye want any more of this food?" asked Scotland next to him without looking up. He was sitting with his arms resting on his knees, leaning forward while picking idly at what remained of the various cheeses they'd brought up to eat on the hillside.

England glanced away from the scenery and looked at his older brother. "I might. What kind of cheese is that?"

"Brie. From France."

He scoffed, turning back towards the countryside. "France. No thanks, I think I'll pass. You know I don't like French cheese."

"I do," Scotland replied, smirking as he spread the last of the white cheese onto a cracker. "That's why I told ye it was from France."

"…So is it French or not?"

"Naw. It's from 'ere. Made by the local folk, it was," said Scotland before taking a bite out of his cracker. "I couldn't let it be wasted on you. Tha'd be an outrage."

England rolled his eyes, but secretly felt a bit put out. His brother's cheese was actually rather nice, and he almost felt like pouting for not getting a chance to try it. The only reason he didn't was because Scotland was bound to laugh at him for being 'a sulky brat', and while insults never bothered him (stiff upper lip, remember?), he simply didn't feel like getting in a fight today. After all, they were here for more just a pretty view and a bite to eat.

They both returned to gazing out over the quiet loch and waiting. There were plenty of hillsides with a good vista, but only this one gave them the view they came here to see. It overlooked a certain bay where Scotland said he'd seen her lurking a few times. The locals at the pub the night before had confirmed what he'd thought, once they realized they weren't just another couple of tourist. Of course, the people they'd shared a pint with hadn't known they were nations, but somehow they seemed to know that they weren't average humans either. Most every day folk never noticed unless they were told, but the people of Loch Ness weren't every day folk. They were well aware of the hidden world around them, for the most part. It was hard to fool someone who spent their days with a living legend on their doorstep.

"Oi, England. Look there."

England followed Scotland's gesture with his eyes toward a small cove on the side of the water opposite them. Several large ripples creased the seamless fabric of the lake, contrasting starkly with the rest of the placid surface. They waited a few moments in silence, and then… There she was. For a split second, they could just barely see her smooth black head slip into view before she dove back down again, her sleek body following in a perfect arch above the water. By the time her tail disappeared into the depths, her head popped up again somewhere else. She breached three more times, perhaps to feel the air, or to look for food, or maybe just to let people see her, let them know she was there. A creature like her must be desperately lonely, considering she was the last of her ancient kind. To most of the world, she was nothing more than a legend.

The sun began to set just as her tail slid into the lake for the last time, entering with barely a splash and leaving behind nothing but a few ripples, as though she'd never been there at all.

"She's a beauty, eh?" Scotland said quietly.

He didn't need to reply to a statement like that. They both knew that he agreed, whether or not he said so. It was impossible for anyone to see such an old, awesome creature and not feel humbled. Though, it wasn't anyone. It was just them.

Neither of them said anything until it started to get dark. Then, Scotland stood and began to pack away their thing. "We best be headin' back now. The trail's a bit dodgy near the bottom. You can't see the rocks in the shadows."

England made no move to help his brother. "Doesn't it bother you?"

"Hm?" Scotland looked up at him.

"You know bloody well what I meant." The Scot didn't answer, so he went on. "Why can't they just… see? Everything is right in front of them. If they would only look–"

"Ye ken they'll never do tha'," said Scotland, grinning wryly. "They dinnae wanna see her, so they won't."

"It's just…" England sighed, but got up and put the last of their food into the basket and stood as well. "She deserves better, you know?"

"…Aye." Scotland said. Then he tucked the basket under his arm and silently started down the hill towards town. After pausing for a moment to look at the lake, England followed him, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets and staring at the ground.

Their rare stint of quiet lasted them all the way back to the room they were sharing at the town inn before Scotland finally broke it.

"I, eh… I was goin' to say this earlier, but…" he glanced to the side, looking as though he'd been given the job to tell a mother that her son had died. "I was goin' to say thank you, for comin' up here an all."

That was surprising. England gave him a look, suddenly feeling very out of place. "You're welcome," he replied awkwardly. "…Thank you, for inviting me."

"Not a problem."

Then they went back to silence while they got ready for tea.