Opening Notes;

First, "Hetalia" is not mine!

Second, Yay, someone other than France and Iggy makes an appearance.

This chapter is a bit rushed, sorry 'bout that!

"¡Hola, Franco Reino!"

It's a language England doesn't recognize – similar to the one France was forcing down his throat, yet different. Simpler, maybe. Or perhaps it's only the speaker that makes it sound that way.

England pokes his head around the corner to spy on his captor and the guest. He can tell right away that the stranger is a nation - but unlike himself, his brothers, France and the vikings, he is not pale. Not blonde. Hours under the sun have bronzed his skin, and his hair is a rich brown. The young man blinks, noticing him. He turns to the little nation and smiles – revealing a set of eyes nearly identical to England's own. They are ambitious emeralds.

"Ah~ that's him, ¿sí?" Spain giggles, glancing at France before crouching to try and draw England toward him. The older blonde looked annoyed at the interruption, but nodded. He sent England a sharp look that said clearly: behave. Spain was a neighbor, and a friend, but lately he'd been having some trouble – and that the Spaniard had time to visit was a miracle in itself. France wanted to make his stay enjoyable, however short it was – so he serious for once… but that didn't guarantee England was going to respect his wishes.

He glared right back at France, making Spain laugh. The noise drew his attention back to the dark-haired nation, who's eyes lit up when England frowned and stepped forward into the room upon request. Spain stretched his arms out, smiling broadly.

"Aquí, pequeñito~ ay, he is so cute!" Spain cooed, "I want one just like him!"

Amongst the carefree words and easy expression, England caught something darker in the stranger's eyes. It was only for a moment, but the distinct look of a predator had come over them. England froze and stepped back, not frightened but certainly wary. He drew himself up and scowled. "Idiot!" he hissed, turning to flee from the room.

Spain blinked, slowly standing back up. He turned to France, who only smiled and shook his head.

"My dear friend," he said, "you do not want anything like him. Trust me."

They sat quietly for a while, France and Spain. The more Western country sipped his offered wine politely, all smiles, although in appearance he hardly looked old enough to tolerate the drink. He was shorter than France by only an inch or two, but his shoulders were wider. And where the blonde was trying to grow a beard to look more sophisticated, Spain kept his face shaven. His loose fitting robes were out of place in the French countryside, where the men and women alike wore tight-fitting tops and long, flowing bottoms.

After a while, Spain piped up. "So, England," he started, eyeing France over the rim of his glass. "But you've got Sicily too, haven't you? Aren't you being a bit greedy~?"

France chuckled. "Non, I don't have Sicily yet," he said. "And I fear it will be a while before I do. England, though, wasn't as much of a challenge."

Spain nodded, suppressing his jealousy. He wanted little tykes to live with him, to order around. He wanted to lead a simple life, like the young man in front of him seemed to be doing. And Sicily was a land he admired. Spain wanted that, too. He smiled.

"When he turned, I saw the mark… at the base of his head," he mused, "Hastings?"

"Oui," France replied, "It was a few years ago, but the bruise isn't gone yet…"

Spain leaned back in his seat, waiting patiently for France to continue. The blonde hesitated, but looked up at his friend with a solemn grin.

"I feel terrible about it, honestly. What if it never goes away? He's too young to have a permanent blemish like that."

The green-eyed nation blinked, and laughed. France frowned, quirked a brow, but Spain only continued to laugh.

"¡Ajajaja! Amigo, I have scars from when I was that age! I'm sure you do, too. They're history, nothing to fret appearances over! But they don't hurt, either… I think you should be asking if his still does."

France pouted, sinking into his chair a little. Spain chuckled again, reaching over to pat his shoulder. "He's been antsy lately, I don't want him thinking I worry over him," he said, only fueling Spain's warm bout of laughter. France smiled lightly to humor the Spaniard, and when they calmed he chose to inquire about more serious issues.

"Spain," he said, making his neighbor glance up from another sip of wine, "how is everything in your home? The Rec-"

"Ah, it's fine! Fine… no, I lied. It's not so fine," he interrupted quickly, smiling again, though it was a weary one. France looked concerned, but Spain waved his worries away. "It's not your fault; I thank you for your gifts of churches! But… I just want everything to be over before El Papa decides anything… rash."

France nodded, drowning the silence that followed with a second glass of wine.

They went on to speak of the political state of surrounding countries – and stories they'd heard about the far-off ones. And when it came time for Spain to return to the Land of the Sun, France made sure to send him off with bread and flowers.

He sighed contentedly at his door, watching the tanned nation turn to wave back at him before heading for home. When he closed the door and turned, the hurried shuffling of a figure around the corner caught his eye. For a moment, France dismissed it, but then he easily realized who exactly it was and he growled.

"Angleterre!" he shouted, rounding the corner quickly to catch a glimpse of the smaller nation at the end of the hall, making his escape from the now-irritated Frenchman.

"Je étais pas écoute! Je étais pas écoute!" England chanted as France caught up to him, probably figuring that French might appease him – but it did not. France snatched England up by the back of his shirt, pleasantly surprised when the younger nation didn't try to kick at him – instead more focused on catching his breath and glaring.

"You were eavesdropping," France deadpanned, making England flush. It was several minutes before he answered.

"So what?" he snarled, wrenching himself out France's grasp when he was set back on his feet. "You, and that stupid guy… you were talking about things that - !"

He clamped his mouth shut, curling his hands into fists. France frowned and crossed his arms. He always found England's tantrums and blushing face to be adorable, but this time… there was a coldness in the pit of his stomach that kept him from gushing like he normally did.

"…things that you didn't understand?" he asked. The way England stubbornly threw his gaze to the floor told him he was right.

"Foreign policies, a-and… even your own laws… I want that!" The little blonde said, looking back up at France – discontent, and surprise at himself, shown clearly on his face. "I want to – to be able to decide those things, without having to ask you!"

"Angleterre, you shouldn't let William influence you so muc-"

"It isn't him! I don't want your rulers to decide things for me!"

"…go to bed."

England lingered, but turned to do as he was told. He didn't look back. When he had gone, France released the breath he was holding and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea, he was beginning to think, he was too young to try and subdue another nation. England wasn't acting out more than he had always been, but there was a change that France had noticed. He smiled ruefully at himself. Hadn't he acted like that, when the old man had come to take him? Hadn't he developed that same spark, and that same eagerness to leave Rome?

And he'd gotten his wish for independence granted… when Rome died.

The Frank shook his head. "Philippe!" he called, turning to seek the man out. France would not end up like Rome, and he would hold onto his conquered England for as long as he could.

Author's Note: That wasn't so bad, was it? The ending could use some work, though.

We're still early in history, and our friend Spain is in the Reconquista - the fighting between Muslims and Christians in Iberia. El Papa - The Pope - will be calling for the Crusades soon, which is what Spain is worried over. Gosh, fun times, weren't they?

I think we'll have one more Norman Conquest chapter, and then we can move on to more exciting things.

As usual, I hope you enjoyed it and leave a review! Thank you!