Hello, lovely readers!

Thanks to everyone who's read it so far. If anyone's here from TSOHS, sorry! I just have so much inspiration for this story, it's insane. I think I'm enjoying the much more complex narrative.
I think it's my main project now. As I said, I am very, very sorry if you preferred by other stories, but this one makes me very happy and I want to write something I enjoy.
I'll still be continuing with TSOHS, of course.

Enjoy!

Shattered Reflections (Rewrite)
Chapter 2 - An Outlandish Condition

When there was a knock on England's door, he finally was able to relax. He had spent the previous hour and a half doing a few things, including patching himself up (his wounds would only heal in a few days, even as a nation) and moving the reflection from his living room to his bedroom, which had taken a great amount of exertion. He had also restrained it a bit more thoroughly, using ropes from his curtains to tie it up. After a small incident with a neighbour checking up on him to see if he was okay after all those loud noises and the unfortunate collateral of using even more magic, this time to erase memories, he had mostly sat down on the floor and waited.
Now the waiting was over.

He limped over to his door and was about to open it when his hand froze on the doorknob. What if it was another neighbour? What if someone had called the police because of the noises? Just in case, he decided to knock out a rhythm he hadn't used in a very long time, hoping that whoever was on the other side would remember it.
After a few seconds of silence, there was the appropriate response, and he pushed his paranoid thinking to the back of his mind. He slowly inched open the door, so he could get a look at who they were, three options being possible.

It was a very intimidating Scottish man, with eyebrows furrowed in what really could be anger or worry. It was immediately obvious that he had left the house in a rush, since his bright blue dress shirt looked terrible, he clearly hadn't shaved, and his dark ginger hair was still in a messy bedhead. He shoved his way into the apartment, and got even more angry-or-worried when he saw the state England was in.
"What the hell happened to you?"
When he looked around and saw the state of the room, with its broken door, shredded couch, and curtains strewn across the floor, Scotland added, "What the hell happened to this place?"
"The same thing for both, I'm afraid," England replied.

Scotland growled, "That's not an answer! You said it had something to do with magic, right? Then what-"
He was interrupted with a knock on the door. Without hesitation, he marched towards it, despite England's protests. He tore it open, to reveal Ireland waiting behind it. She was about to say something, before she saw the state of the room, "What the hell happened to this place?
She strode in, then saw the state of England, "What the hell happened to you?"
This was going to be a long day.

"That's what I want to know," Scotland provided, and now England had two angry-or-worried siblings glaring at him.
He crossed his arms, which was particularly painful with his injuries, and said, "I'll explain when Seamus get here. He won't be..."
The glares got even more severe, and he glared right back at them, which probably wasn't so intimidating with all the bandages wrapped around his body. After an unreasonably long time, England finally averted his gaze and sighed, "Look, it's not that big of a deal. It's just a magical situation I haven't dealt with before. I would've called on Norway and Romania to help, but they weren't answering their phones."

He wasn't sure if it was possible for Scotland to look more unimpressed, "Not that big of a deal, huh? Then why did you want those magic blocking gloves? Oh, if I remember correctly, last time you needed those-"
"Yes, yes, I know!" England said, "And while the amount of magic I've used is unfortunate, it's not to that extent. I need them for something else."
Ireland raised an eyebrow, "I thought you said Norway and Romania weren't answering their phones."
"...They're not."
Their frustrated expressions were replaced with confused ones, and Scotland asked, "Wait, there's other nations with the magic touch? I thought you said it was only you, Norway and Romania."

Before England could make up another excuse to postpone the explanation, there was finally another knock on the door. Ireland quickly swung it open, and Northern Ireland stomped in. Upon seeing the two unfortunate states of certain things within the house, he opened his mouth to say something, before England stopped him.
"Yes, we get it! The room is a mess, I'm a mess, and now I can actually explain why."
Now three of his siblings were looking at him, very unamused, and he hoped the fourth would be here as soon as possible.
Scotland waltzed over to the arm chair, which was basically the only thing left in the room that wasn't at least partially destroyed, sat down and said, "Then explain."
It was that thing he always did when he covered up concern with apathy or annoyance. He didn't even try to hide it, knowing his siblings would realise, but still never stopped doing it.

The other two followed him, and sat on either arm of the chair. They looked particularly intimidating, Scotland being flanked by two Irelands. England wished they would stop making a big deal about every magic thing he mentioned. Maybe he should've waited for Norway and Romania instead, or somehow dealt with it himself.
"Okay, so basically… It's a magical creature, I'm fairly sure, one that I've never dealt with. And, somehow it's able to use nation magic. It's a type of magic specific only to nations, as you may infer from the name, and magical creatures usually have their own kinds."
The three communicated quietly with their expressions, before Northern Ireland stuck his hand up, much like a school child, "Um, Mr Kirkland? I have a question. How the fuck is that possible, then? Are you sure it's not just another nation?"
England's entire family was made up of arrogant pricks.

He sighed, "It wouldn't be. Norway and Romania are the only other nations with the magic touch, and neither of them would send a random magical creature or apparition to attack me."
"Well, what if it's a declaration of war?" Scotland said.
Arthur shook his head, "Why would they attack the personification rather than the actual nation? Besides, barely anyone knows of the existence of magic and attacking a nation with magic in its home country is just a recipe for disaster."
This made Ireland scoff, "What, does the land give you magical energy or some bullshit?"
She performed appropriately 'mystical' hand gestures, and England was about to correct her complete inability to understand magic with actual fact, before his phone rang.

All four nations immediately whipped their heads around to see it, placed on the floor among a few bloodstains, partially cracked from either the struggle that had just occurred or an earlier, trivial experience. England went over to pick up the phone, and showed off the screen that prominently displayed 'Lukas'. Then he accepted the call and put it on speaker.
"Arthur, you need to stay away from reflective surfaces."
A Norwegian accent came through the tinny speakers, as emotionless as always.
England said, "It's too late for that, I'm afraid. Did you get attacked too?"
"What? Attacked? Of course I didn't, what happened to-"
"Oh, of course he got attacked! England's psychotic, you know. Don't accept his cupcakes."
He was surprised to hear a second voice interrupt the nation, one that he didn't recognise. It sounded kind of like Lukas, but it had a thicker accent, and held much more emotion than would be expected with him.
He was even more shocked to hear a "Shut up." from Norway, holding more anger in his voice than he had heard in a long time.

"Who is that?" Ireland asked, and England glared at her for interrupting the conversation.
Norway replied with, "Wait, who said that?"
"Ireland. I've got her, Scotland, and Northern Ireland with me. More importantly, answer her question."
There was a strange argument on the other side, with the unknown voice saying something in Norwegian and Lukas replying with what sounded suspiciously like a swear. He finally answered.
"The reflection in my window was different this morning. It climbed through into the physical world somehow. I had to deal with a situation to make sure none of the other Nordics noticed, and now it won't shut up."
"That's rude, you know! You were the reflection to me," what was presumably Norway's reflection said.
England wasn't sure if he was relieved or concerned, "The same thing happened to me. Except mine decided to attack me with magic. And knives."

These revelations seemed to unsettle England's present siblings, but it seemed to affect Norway's reflection even more.
"Magic? What? England can't-"
Lukas interrupted with something else in Norwegian, and Arthur swear he heard the two of them physically fighting. It didn't last long, and Lukas quickly said, "Where is your reflection now?"
"Unconscious. Used all its magic."
"Okay, good. Look, I'll try to call Romania, see if he's dealing with the same problem. I'll call you back soon."
England pursed his lips, "Alright."
The call ended.

Scotland stepped out of his chair and marched up to him, "What the hell was that about? Reflections? Your reflection came out of the mirror and attacked you?"
"Yes. I didn't give you the details."
Northern Ireland looked at him, with a face so incredulous it must've been breaking some world records, "I think that's a bit different from a magical creature, Arthur. Where is this reflection anyway? You said it ran out of magic?"
England gestured vaguely at the destroyed door to the kitchen, "I restrained it in my room."
The Irelands leaped up, as well, Ireland saying, "Show us, then!"

When he lead them through the kitchen, they stared at the utterly destroyed fridge. Out of everything that had been torn to shreds, it had made the biggest mess because of everything inside it. There was torn food strewn all over the floor, but most of it didn't make too much of a mess. The main problem was the beverages and condiments, creating puddles all over the kitchen.
As England stepped over some tomato sauce, he explained, "So it would use all its magic, I threw things at it that it destroyed like this. It seemed awfully angry for some reason."
Niamh crinkled her nose at a fish that had been destroyed thoroughly and disgustingly, while Seamus hopped away from a block of literally shredded cheese that had mixed with juice and what had been eggs.
Scotland simply ignored them and said, "At least you still have what's in the pantry."

When they finally reached his bedroom, they saw the absolute shambles the room was in. The reflection was laying among the wreckage, tied up not tightly enough due to the state of England's arms.
Ireland poked it, "So this is the guy that attacked you?"
"Yep. With knives."
Northern Ireland also approached it, "Yeah, we can tell. Hey, this guy has strawberry blonde hair! He must be the real you that you banished away centuries and centuries ago, so you could take his place and hide your true identity as a demon."
Arthur grumbled. It wasn't his fault his hair was blonde.
Scotland kneeled down to get a closer look, "I thought he would be more intimidating. He's just you but with a different hair colour and really ugly clothing."
"It also has blue eyes…"

Seamus tried to open its eyes to see the alleged colour.
Alasdair looked up at him, "So, what do we do with him?"
"That's why I need the magical blocking gloves, so it wouldn't cause more trouble when it woke up. Hopefully Seren will be here soon."
"Ah, she's getting them, is she? I was wondering where she was… We should stay in here and make sure he doesn't wake up. Maybe you can explain more of what happened, too," Niamh mused, still poking the reflection.
Grumbling, England sat down on the floor, shaking slightly from the exertion and his injuries.

In the morning, Iceland didn't do much. He didn't think he had anything important to do, though he rarely had anything important to do. He didn't think that any of his family were forcing him to do anything, or that he had any meetings related to the fact he was a nation. So, when he woke up annoyingly early because he had gone to sleep too early the night before, he simply put on music and started to read until he felt hungry. He had done this for the previous few mornings, because he had a series to get through and his music always made him feel happy.

Three quarters into the second chapter, and halfway through a song, he finally decided that it was time to get breakfast. Hopefully he could slip out and get something without anyone noticing, so he could continue reading without being disturbed.
When he checked his phone for the time, he was mildly disappointed to find it was only 6:34. He hadn't burned away as much as of the morning as he had hoped, though he had made good progress with his book.

When he put his book down and paused the song, he frowned as he looked into his turned off phone's black screen. The faint reflection that he saw… It didn't reflect his background, and he swore that it didn't look like him. Its eyes seemed… ...bluer, and its hair straw yellow instead of his platinum blonde. It could just be a trick of his eyes, though.
He realised that it wasn't when the reflection moved its head and he didn't.
He stared widely in shock, which the reflection also returned, but he now realised that instead of wearing his pyjamas, it wore a sweater and scarf. What was this? Did it have something to do with Norway's strange spirits? He had dealt with them before without alerting the nation, who he didn't think even knew he could see them, so he could do it again. (1)

"What are you…?" Iceland asked.
The reflection took on a confused expression, and answered in Norwegian, "What did you say?"
So it hadn't understood his Icelandic? It made sense, since it probably had something to do with Norway. Maybe it had never been to Iceland and had never learned the language. It wasn't used outside of his remote country, anyway.
"Um, I asked you what… Who are you?"
The reflection blinked, "My name is Emil. Emil Steilsson."

What.
"But… That's my name."
It seemed just as surprised as him, and uncertain of what to say next, "W-Why are you inside my mirror?"
"What do you mean? You're inside my phone…"
Both of them sort of gaped at each other for a few seconds, before Iceland tried to get a hold of himself, and analysed the situation. There was someone in his phone, who looked like him, claimed that he was called the same name as him, and claimed that he was seeing Iceland in his mirror.
Iceland saw The Magician's Nephew (2), still open on his desk, as the sentence at the top of the page grabbed his eyes.

life, and in my state of health, to risk the shock and the dangers of being flung suddenly
into a different universe? I never heard anything so preposterous in my life! Do you realize
what you're saying? Think what Another World means - you might meet anything."

He had a theory.

"Give me a second, I want to try something," Iceland said, and put his phone down. Then, he quickly searched through his drawers for something that he hadn't used in a long time. He finally found it, an old hand mirror, cracked through the middle. He rubbed off the dust and looked into it. The reflection appeared again, much clearer and still showing that the background was replaced by black.
Other-him frowned, "You just disappeared for a second."
"Yeah, I probably did. Okay, listen, I think I know what's going on."

Something was wrong.
Australia had said that he would be here at 3pm, but it was already 4. He would never be late, especially when he had been so excited to show New Zealand the 'wonders' of Rottnest Island (3). It had been a few years since he had taken him here, after all, though New Zealand really couldn't tell the difference between it and all his other tourist traps of islands.
Well, he wasn't one to talk about tourist traps.
He checked his watch again, which prominently displayed '4:06'. Maybe he should just ride back to where they were staying to make sure he was okay. He glanced at the sparkling water. So much for snorkelling.

He closed his book and checked his phone one more time, which was already low on battery. Still no word from Jett, so he sighed and packed everything up in his bag, and hopped on his rented bike.
Despite his pride, he did admit that this place was nice. It had a few historical locations, though they weren't as impressive to someone who had lived through history, and environment was rather pretty, though it was nothing compared to his place. He even liked the little quokkas, though he wasn't as interested in taking photos with them. The thing he definitely liked the most was the peaceful atmosphere; when he was away from the tourists and riding by himself, he was actually having a lot of fun. (4) So that was another win on the part of Australia.

As he rode across one of the lakes, he felt particularly daring and starting cycling as fast as he could. He even went up to the edge of the path and peered into the water, making sure he didn't ride over any of the rocks near the edge.
He saw his reflection quickly flipping through the water, and his eyes widened when he saw that it wasn't him. The lake around it had darkened to an inky black, and his reflection, while hard to make out due to how fast he was moving, certainly didn't look like him. Its hair was brown and its skin tone was subtly darker, and instead of wearing his simple t-shirt and shorts it had what looked like a suit.
Its eyes were a deep brown, almost black.
He was certain he heard it say, "Who are you?"

New Zealand's front wheel snagged one of the rocks, and he went tumbling into the lake. It took him a few seconds to fight his way to the surface after the shock of injury he had from hitting the rocks and the cold water. Soaking wet, he dragged his bike out of the lake, and stumbled to the floor, wincing as his legs were scraped on the ground. He was shaking in the shock of the accident, and eventually managed to calm himself down. He had experienced accidents like that before, so he wasn't too worried.
He looked down. His left leg was broken, and they were both bleeding in various places. He wouldn't be riding back, then.
He checked his phone, and it was completely bricked, as he expected. He sighed and put it on the floor, then went to move his broken leg to a more fortunate position. He grimaced when he touched it, but pulled through the pain. He had experienced worse, but it wasn't a very fortunate situation, and he wished that his leg was fine and he could ride back to where Australia was.

It was with profound shock that he felt a rush of warmth go through his leg, and the pain went away. He moved his leg. It wasn't broken.
He gaped at his apparently-not-broken leg. He was certain it had been - the pain had felt like it, and it had been twisted at an angle that it never should've been. But now it was as normal as ever, as if he had never taken the fall.
That, along with the not-reflection he had seen earlier, he was almost convinced he had spontaneously gone insane.
Thinking of that, he peered into the water again. This time it was just his normal reflection staring back at him, giving a very stupid look, contrary to what he had seen before.
He then remembered England and his magic. New Zealand had always teased him for believing in fairies, but now he was inclined to believe him. England probably would really help him in this situation.

New Zealand picked up his phone, numbly wishing that he could contact him so he could be given advice.
To his surprise, it suddenly turned on, and the screen lit up to show England's number already being called.

(1) Hima has said that Iceland can see Norway's spirits but hasn't told anyone. Therefore, he has the magic touch.
(2) The Magician's Nephew is the prequel to the Chronicles of Narnia, detailing how Narnia and the wardrobe came to be. It follows a rescue attempt over multiple dimensions.
(3) Rottnest Island is an island off the coast of Western Australia, and a very popular tourist definition (referred to as 'Rotto'). Snorkelling, diving, and biking are popular activities there.
(4) It's basically impossible to get around the island without abike, because even if you take a car there are some trails that are too small for it. Historical locations include Oliver Hill Battery and Kingston Barracks. Quokkas are arguably the most famous part of the island, creatures only native there which are in abundance. Tourists often take selfies with them.

So, yeah, I'm adding some little annotations to explain things which won't have an in-story explanation. These will mostly be cultural references and such.
Since I'm Australian and know about my culture more than any other, Australian culture will probably be the most mentioned in the story, but I'll try to mention other cultures too.
Originally, Australia was supposed to have a big role and New Zealand was supposed to have a smaller one, but it seems like the roles have been reversed, haha. I'll still try to write the Kiwi as well as possible.
By the way, the human names for England's siblings are as follows, if you haven't picked it up:
Alasdair - Scotland
Seren - Wales
Niamh - Ireland
Seamus - Northern Ireland

Thanks for reading!