Story: Spellbound
Author: ShrapnelGirl
Exclaimer: All Hetalia characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Author's comments: Here's the twenty fourth chapter of Spellbound. It is the start of the final story arc – or at least, the end of the second last story arc. In the next chapter, we will finally enter the Beyond.
Enjoy!
Chapter 24 – Bloodbond – London, winter of 1946
The training dummies had been pushed aside and the stone table brought back into the middle of England's cellar. The nations were gathered around it, silently looking at an object standing on the rough stone surface. It was the jar of Goddess Tears.
Ireland and Wales had even paused their preparations for the blood ritual to catch a glimpse of the legendary item. Scotland was still somewhere with the boys, keeping them out of harm's way, and Germany and Romania were still training, so none of them were present. Denmark, Sweden and Finland seemed to have been swallowed by the ground. If asked, England claimed that they'd been sent on a secret mission of some sort. Iceland was starting to wonder what secret missions England kept dishing out to seemingly random nations.
Japan and England closely examined the jar. England had his wand in hand and seemed to be running scans of some sort on it; the jar was bathed in soft, green light that emanated from the tip of England's wand. Japan had an old, slightly mouldy book in hand that he had found in England's hidden library and was comparing the description of Goddess Tears in it with the contents of the jar in front of him. Norway and Greenland whispered amongst themselves. Everyone else was on edge. The properties of Goddess Tears, as well as their speculative existence, had already been explained to them.
England flicked his wand and the green light ceased streaming from it. He turned to Japan.
"Anything?" England asked.
Japan looked up from his book. He put it down wordlessly on the table so England could see the text and pointed out a paragraph of particular interest. England leaned over the book. He hummed as he read and nodded; pointed out some word to Japan; looked between the jar and the book repeatedly as if to compare them and then closed the book with a thud.
England turned toward the other nations. He had a mindful and a slightly guarded look on his face.
"It seems to be the real deal," he said. "It matches the description Japan found of Goddess Tears in one of the ledgers believed to have been written by wraiths. I have not found any signs of deception magic on the jar either. Those pearly looking things inside it could very likely be Goddess Tears." The nations looked at each other in wonder. Could the tears be real? "However," England continued, quickly dimming the hopes that had arisen within his peers, "there is only one way to find out once and for all whether the tears are real or not." England paused for dramatic effect. He smiled wickedly. "We need to bring someone back from the dead."
Much to Ireland's and Wales' displeasure, they were ordered to finish the preparations for the blood ritual as soon as possible, and were thus not able to spectate the wondrous things that happened next. Iceland was given the jar of Goddess Tears for safekeeping while the Italy twins cleared the stone table of any and all things. England and America disappeared into yet another hidden by-room of the cellar; when they returned, America was carrying a familiar looking coffin on his back. He placed it on the stone table. Iceland and the other nations carefully approached it. Lying in the coffin, as dead as he had been when Iceland last saw him, was the former consultant detective Sherlock Holmes.
"This time," England said. "He shouldn't be coming back as a zombie. Japan?"
Japan came up to Iceland and opened the jar in Iceland's hands. He pulled out one of the pearls and gave it to England.
"Do you know how to use it?" Japan asked.
England shook his head. He rolled the pearl between his fingers and stared at it intently.
"It looks like a pill," he said and shrugged. "Let's hope it's not one of those terrible things that need to be 'administered rectally'." That being said, England opened the mouth on the dead body and dropped the pill inside.
Nothing happened.
Then the body twitched. Once. Twice. It's eyes shot open and a strong, warm light shone out of them and bathed the room in its soft glow. A film of light encased the body. The dead one hovered above the coffin, twitching and convulsing as if a current of electricity was going through him. Suddenly, the light in the room contracted and gathered around the body; the rest of the room was engulfed in thick, impenetrable darkness. The ghostly echoes of someone weeping slithered into the room from every corner. Iceland felt someone huddling against him, shivering, but couldn't see who it was in the sheer darkness. Coward, he thought. He put his arms around the stranger regardless, and stroked their back soothingly.
The light around the body pulsed; the supernatural weeping grew louder. Finally, with a scream of desperation, the weeping ceased, the light around the body flickered out and Sherlock Holmes fell into his coffin with a shocked gasp.
The stranger who had been huddling up to Iceland moved away hurriedly, seemingly ashamed about their own cowardice. Iceland never saw who it was.
England quickly relit the candles in the room with one quick motion from his wand. Sherlock Holmes sat upright in his coffin, frozen in shock, and stared at the group of people who had suddenly emerged out of the darkness.
"Who are you?" the consultant detective asked. His voice was shrill with fear. "Where am I? What… Something strange just happened."
The nations stared back. None of them dared speak a word to the recently dead. Sherlock's fear grew into panic. He frantically tried climbing out of his coffin, but his shaking arms were of little help to him.
England came to. "Stupefy!" he cried out and pointed his wand at Sherlock. The detective was immediately knocked out.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think?" France scolded. "The poor thing had just been revived from the dead!"
"I'll deal with him later," England said. He motioned for America to bring out the coffin. "Take him to… Bloody hell, just put him in my room and nail the coffin shut. And lock the door for good measure. I can't be havin' bloody Sherlock Holmes running around at a time like this."
England had some nails materialize from thin air and gave them to America. He didn't bother materializing a hammer. Maybe America, with his superhuman strength, could simply push the nails into the coffin with his fingers? Iceland flexed the fingers on his own left hand and wondered what it would feel like to be that strong. It seemed impossible. Maybe he was just reading too much into it and America already knew where to find a hammer. He'd grown up in this house, after all.
"Now we know," England said. He looked at Iceland. "Iceland has actually found a jar of real Goddess Tears somewhere."
The other nations all stared at Iceland.
"Where did you get them?" Norway asked. "Their existence has only been speculation until now."
Iceland shrugged.
"Lauren gave them to me," he said. When Norway continued staring at him as if waiting for a further explanation, Iceland added: "You know, the girl I met on the airplane? The one you and Denmark kidnapped and brought back to the house? She even cried in front of you…"
Norway seemed confused. He knitted his eyebrows and shook his head.
"I can't remember having met any Lauren. When you arrived in London, the only person with you was a man you called your butler… By the way, we need to speak about that sometime. I can't remember us giving you permission to keep a butler."
Iceland waved the notion away. He wasn't about to tell Norway about his cursed puffin pet anytime soon. There were other things more important to deal with right now.
"What do you mean you can't remember Lauren?" he asked instead. "Just think back. It was the day I came to London for the meeting. You and Denmark picked us up…"
Norway shook his head decidedly.
"I would have remembered it if you suddenly showed up with two strangers. I'm telling you, the only person with you that day was your so called butler."
I seemed that Norway had never actually met Lauren. A terrible doubt crept into Iceland's mind.
"Wait…" he said. "If you can't remember her, and you definitely should, does that mean…"
"Let's not jump to conclusions here," England said quickly. "Maybe Norway was just preoccupied. Let's call the others in and ask them."
Norway agreed. England left to fetch Denmark, Sweden and Finland from whatever secret mission they were currently on. When they entered the room, the nations regarded them with interest.
"You guys remember Lauren, right?" Iceland asked immediately. "The girl I was with when I came to London?"
"Girl?" Denmark echoed. "He looked like a dude to me. Didn't you introduce him as Herra Lundi or something?"
Iceland's heart sank. Sweden and Finland confirmed his fears.
"If he was a girl, he was really good at hiding it," Sweden said.
"You mean that even a girl can be manlier than me?" Finland muttered. He flushed pink when he realized that he'd said that out loud. He laughed nervously. "I mean… It was definitely a man, Ice. Definitely."
"Åland must remember her," Iceland said, now desperate. "Please…" He didn't know whether he was pleading for them to fetch Åland, or pleading for Åland to remember Lauren.
England left the room again. When he returned this time, he was followed by Scotland, Tua and Åland, all of whom had cups with hot chocolate in their hands. They seemed to have been warming up after a day of playing in the snow. Åland walked right up to Iceland and looked at him with a solemn expression on his face.
"You have something to ask of me, uncle Ice?" he asked.
Iceland could hear the nervousness in his voice and realized that his little nephew was probably a bundle of nerves about the whole situation with the curse and the war. Iceland sent Scotland a thankful look for having kept Åland's mind off the whole thing during the day.
Iceland went down on one knee so that his face was at the same elevation as Åland's.
"I just need you to tell me one thing," he said as soothingly as he could. "Do you remember having met a girl called Lauren when I arrived in London?"
Åland thought about it. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, staring at the floor. He stopped and looked up.
"I'm sorry Ice," he said. "I can't remember any Lauren. The only person you were with was that dark haired man."
Sweden put an arm around Åland's shoulder.
"You heard him Ice," he said. "There really was no Lauren with you at that time. You must have been imagining things."
Iceland shook his head decidedly.
"No," he said. "I wasn't just imagining things. Lauren is real." He held up the jar of Goddess Tears as proof. "She gave me this, right in front of you guys." Suddenly, he remembered. "Herra Lundi was there as well, he must be able to remember her. Quick, I need a telephone!"
England waved his wand and a telephone materialized out of thin air. Iceland picked up the receiver and spun the rotary dial as quickly as he could. He tapped his foot impatiently while the operator connected him to his own home.
Fae answered.
"Hello? Who is this?" she asked. She sounded tired and a little grumpy. Iceland hoped it wasn't because of him.
"Hey, Fae," he said. "It's me. Can I speak to Herra Lundi?"
He could hear Fae gasp into the receiver.
"Icey! How dare you do this to me? You not only disappear on me the day before a full moon, you then send me that insufferable egomaniac to babysit without even consulting me about it! Do you have any idea what he's done? Do you?"
Iceland shrank back from her accusations. He deserved every last one of them… Especially the ones regarding Prussia. He'd heard from America just how insufferable the nation could be, yet he'd hoped that Fae could somehow control him.
"I know, I know," Iceland said. "You can get even with me for it later. For now, I really need to speak to Herra Lundi. Please, it's important."
Fae stopped screaming. She now sounded frightened.
"Is everything okay, Ice?" she asked. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Just put Herra Lundi on the phone," Iceland said, a bit harshly. "Please, Fae. I'll tell you everything later. You don't have to worry so much, really."
"Alright," she said, obviously not convinced. She even sounded hurt by his unwillingness to speak to her.
"What do you want?" Mr. Puffin snapped when he'd been handed the receiver. "I'm busy dealing with your friend here. And who do you think you are treating your sister like that?"
Alright, now Iceland was really worried. What could Prussia have done to make sweet Fae and usually the calm Mr. Puffin get so angry at him?
"You remember Lauren, right? The girl we met on the plane?" he asked quickly, ignoring Mr. Puffin's sharp tone.
"Of course I do," Mr. Puffin said. "She helped us escape your family. What? You calling just to ask about that?"
"Yes," Iceland said and hung up before Mr. Puffin had a chance lash out at him as well. He turned to the other nations, a victory smile spread across his face. "My butler remembers her as well. I'm not crazy, you guys have just somehow forgotten about her."
The Nordics seemed dumbfounded.
"That's impossible," Denmark said. "I would have definitely remembered it if you suddenly showed up with a girl. Seriously Ice, it's been over a thousand years and you still haven't had a single date. We're starting to think you're…"
Norway kicked Denmark and gave him a look that said shut up or else…
"There are numerous spells that allow a person to alter, erase or artificially create memories," Norway said. "This Lauren person could have erased all memories of her person from our memories after you and your butler left us, thus making only the two of you capable of remembering her."
"But why would she do that?" Iceland asked. "Lauren was just a normal tourist we met by chance on the plane…"
"You don't really believe that, do you?" Norway said. "She somehow managed to wipe all our memories of her and she also had the Goddess Tears. Clearly, she wasn't just a normal tourist."
When Iceland thought back, there were a number of odd things about that girl. What was a 15 year old doing on her own in his country, and in the middle of winter to boot? His island was practically unknown in the world. People would need to be out of their minds to travel to Iceland – surely, tourists had choice of far better destinations and would never choose to visit Iceland of their own free will. So what had Lauren been doing on that flight? Who was she anyway?
"Maybe she was your guardian angel?" England suggested. "Stranger things have happened."
"Or Titania herself trying to help?" Finland offered.
No one seemed to have a better idea about who Lauren really was. Iceland himself was at a loss.
"Who cares who she was," Greenland said. "The girl was clearly on our side. Let's worry about who she was after we beat the Creator. For now, let's us be thankful that she brought us the Goddess Tears."
"Lauren has truly given us a valuable gift," England said. "Now we can enter the Beyond knowing that if we die, we shall be granted a second chance. Remember, the Beyond is not like Earth. If we die there, we will likely die for real instead of just passing out like we would on Earth. The Goddess Tears are our only way of being resurrected."
Everyone agreed with Greenland and England. Iceland had no choice but to agree as well. In his mind, he thanked Lauren for everything she'd done for him. He hoped he would survive this whole ordeal, if only to be able to express his gratitude to her in person. That was, if he ever found her again.
For now, the nations had other things to worry about. There were only 7 hours left until they had to go find the gate to the Beyond and Iceland was still only half a person.
Ireland and Wales finished preparations for the blood spell right after England was finished handing out Goddess Tears to everyone. He then shrank the jar with the rest of the tears and put it in his pocket for safekeeping.
"Remember," England told everyone in a stern voice, "you need to swallow the tear right before you die, to make sure you will be resurrected. We do not know what happens if you fail to do this, so don't fail. Understood?"
It was decided that England would perform the blood spell since his siblings were too tired after the preparations. A lot of their magic had been drained enchanting all the items and calling forth the right spirits. They agreed to be his assistants. The ceremony to bind two souls together was apparently a very complicated one.
Iceland and Norway were made to sit back to back in the middle of the strangely shaped symbol on the floor. They sat cross legged and joined their arms at the elbows; each had his own two hands on his knees. Wales and Ireland blindfolded them with damp rags that smelled really bad.
"You don't want to know what this is," Wales said when Iceland asked why the rags were so stinky. "Just relax. We'll take care of everything. Try to meditate or something."
The others nations had been made to wait in the main cellar until the ceremony was complete. The bookshelf had been moved back, sealing England, his assistants and the two Nordic brothers inside the room. Iceland couldn't see spirits like his brother and England, but there was such an abundance of them in the room that even Iceland could feel the supernatural energy streaming from them. It was an uncomfortable and electrifying experience. He could hear Wales and Ireland move about, tiptoeing carefully around the room doing god knows what, and his nervousness increased in time with the rising spiritual energy in the room.
The temperature suddenly rose as England began to chant in a dull, droning voice. The spirits became restless. Norway squeezed Iceland's arms with his own as if to comfort his younger brother. The ceremony began.
It was a terrifying experience; one which Iceland tried his best to keep out of his mind, even while it was happening. Despite his tries, slithers of memories entered his subconscious and sent cold shivers all through his body and made goosebumps erupt on his sweaty skin. His blood had boiled and pulsated with energy as the dark blood magic gained control over him. As an after effect, Iceland was now shivering with cold.
The experience was even more horrifying knowing that the blood spell had failed.
"I don't understand," England said. "I'm sure we did everything right…"
Norway wasn't shivering, but then again, he'd always been better at handling the cold than Iceland. He seemed completely drained of energy as he sat slumped against one of the walls, staring mindlessly into nothing. He looked almost heartbroken. Neither brother spoke to each other.
"Go fetch Romania," England ordered. He sounded nervous. None of them had dared think about what would happen if the ceremony failed. Ireland ran out of the room immediately. Curious nations peeked in through the open door. "Away with you!" England snapped. "Go train or something. I don't have the patience to deal with you right now." He seemed to be at the end of his tether. The ceremony had drained him as well.
When Romania arrived, he quickly took charge of the situation. He questioned Ireland, Wales and England about every step of the ceremony and concluded that they had done everything correctly.
"There can really only be one reason for the failure of the ceremony," he declared, glaring at Norway. "And that is if Iceland and Norway aren't as closely related as they said they were."
Norway jolted and looked up at Romania. His eyes were filled with guilt. Iceland could feel a knot forming in his stomach. Why was he nervous? Why did his brother look like he'd kept something important from everyone?
"I had hoped," Norway said, hoarse with emotion, "that my suspicions were incorrect. I-" He looked away, suddenly angry. "Fetch Scotland," he ordered. "Keep everyone else out of the room."
Iceland wasn't the only one confused. Still, Wales poked his head out of the room and told Scotland that he was needed. They closed the room after him.
"What's going on?" Scotland asked. "Did the ceremony succeed?"
England shook his head. Norway stumbled to his feet.
"It couldn't have succeeded," Norway said bitterly. "Iceland and I aren't full brothers. I have lied to him for all his life." He looked at Iceland briefly before looking away.
"What do you mean?" Iceland asked. "How can we not be full brothers… What nonsense is this?"
"I would also like to know," Romania said. "Norway, don't tell me you kept something so important from us. Time is of the essence. You-"
"I know that," Norway interrupted. "I wish it wasn't true. In fact, I had managed to convince myself that I was wrong. But I wasn't." He glared at Scotland. "Iceland and I are only half-brothers. You are his other brother."
Silence followed Norway's words.
"What?" England said. He looked between Norway, Scotland and Iceland, utterly perplexed.
Scotland scratched his head.
"Yeah?" he said. "How'd that happen?"
"Remember when I came over to your house and… kinda kidnapped some of your people?" Norway asked.
Scotland's look hardened.
"Yes," he said. "It's hard to forget. You burned my house down, killed and enslaved my people. Why you bringing that up?"
Norway closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. Apparently he hadn't spoken to Scotland much about his wild Viking streak.
"I needed people to help Iceland farm his land and build houses. It was a very difficult place to settle. So I may have brought your people there as slaves. And they may have mixed with my settlers to become the nation of Iceland, making you his half-brother as well."
Iceland and Scotland looked at each other.
"You mean… Iceland here's my brother?" Scotland asked. "Mah wee brother? And I never knew?"
"Yeah, wait a second," Iceland said. "I can't remember any Scottish slaves working at my house…"
"That's because I brought you home with me almost immediately after the war with the elves to educate you," Norway said. "By the time you returned to your island in the 12th century, slavery had already been abolished."
"So Scotland and Norway are both Iceland's half brothers," England said. He sounded pissed off, and quite frankly, he had full right to be angry. Norway had messed up a time- and energy consuming ceremony after all, only a few hours before they needed to get going. "I don't understand what that has to do with anything. Didn't Japan say that we are all children of Titania? How did the blood ceremony not work then?"
"Blood magic was made by humans for humans," Norway said. "Even though we as national personifications are all born of the same mother, for blood magic, it matters how many humans we have in common. In this case, since half of Iceland's population stems from me and half from Scotland, that makes him my and Scotland's half-brother."
The nations mulled over that for a while.
"What will we do then?" England asked. "We don't have much time. We need to cast the spell again, but if both of you are only half related to Iceland, how can we finish binding you to him? Does he have any full blooded relatives?"
"There is one," Norway said.
Indeed, there was. The Faeroe Islands had been settled at around the same time Iceland had been and by roughly the same people. If anyone was likely to count as Iceland's full blooded relative, it was Fae. But she could never make it to London in time and even if she could have, Iceland would never have allowed it. He had already caused his sister so much grief – his sweet, patient sister who had been willing to risk being cursed so that she could protect Iceland. There was no way in hell that he was putting her life at risk.
"No," Iceland said. "There is no one else. We have to make do with what we have here." He and Norway shared a look. Norway looked away. He knew just how protective of his sister Iceland had become in the past few decades.
"Ice is right," Norway said. He probably wanted to protect Fae just as much as Iceland did. "I was mistaken."
"Then what will we do?" England asked.
"Two halves make a whole," Romania said. "We could try binding both Norway and Scotland to Iceland. If Scotland agrees, that is."
All eyes turned to Scotland and the nations silently waited for his answer. Scotland awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.
"It's a bit sudden," he said. "You want me to go to the Beyond with you and help kill this Creator guy? And you don't even know if that could work?"
"I know it is much to ask," Iceland said. "Scotland." Please do it. I really don't want to get Fae mixed into this.
It was as if Scotland could read his mind. A grin spread over his lips.
"You speak of peril as if it were a problem. I've never been a coward," he declared. "I'm not going to start now. Count me in."
This time, Romania was the one to conduct the ceremony. Since the particular spell they were trying to cast was only designed to bind two people to each other, Romania's power and expertise was needed to make it work for three people. The ceremony was repeated with some minor altercations. It was successful.
Romania, didn't seem at all tired after the ceremony. He re-energized Scotland, Iceland and Norway with some magic spell, since the three of them were completely out of energy. When his head stopped spinning, Norway immediately left the room. Iceland briefly hugged Scotland and thanked him for his help, then sped after Norway. He'd looked upset and Iceland was worried about him.
He caught Norway on the way to their room.
"Wait," Iceland said. "We need to talk."
Norway whirred on him, fists clenching. His eyes were brimming with tears.
"I never told you, because I was afraid that you would hate me," he said. "If I could have, I would have kept it from you forever. Yes, I enslaved people for your sake. Yes, I treated them badly. And yes, they are every bit as much a part of you as the people who left me to settle on your island." Norway' voice was shaking. He avoided Iceland's gaze; blinked his tears away. He then looked at Iceland with new resolve. "Go ahead. Yell at me. Disown me. You have every right to be angry at me." He looked like a man who had already decided to face up to the consequence of his actions, no matter how dire.
Iceland was dumbstruck. It seemed that Norway had been thinking about Iceland's origin for a long time and that it was a very touchy subject for him. Iceland himself had no idea how he should feel about all this. On one hand, he was sad that Norway wasn't his full blooded brother, but on the other hand he was happy that his family had suddenly expanded. And it wasn't as if half-siblings weren't your true siblings. Why should he be angry? If anyone should be angry, it was Scotland. Those were his people who'd been taken away. Although they were Iceland's people now…
Dang it, things were all messed up! But one thing Iceland knew, and that was the fact that he didn't hate his brother.
"You raised me, Norway," Iceland said. "You taught me everything I needed to know to take care of my nation. You shared with me your culture, religion and language and when I needed you most, you took me under your wing. I would not exist today had you not accepted me into your kingdom, brother. How could I ever regard you as anything other than family? How could I ever disown you? I owe my life to you!"
In order to show his gratitude, Iceland got down on his knees and bowed until his head touched the floor.
"You didn't hesitate when you were asked to risk your life for me," he said. "What are you afraid of? How could you even imagine that I would be mad at you? Idiot."
Blast it. Now he was crying as well. Why was he so emotional? He was supposed to be good at controlling his emotions.
That was before we merged, Laki reminded him. Go ahead, crybaby. Hug your brother for me, eh?
As if on cue, Norway squatted in front of Iceland and held out a hand. He was smiling the way he hadn't done since they were children. Iceland took his hand and Norway pulled him into a hug.
They said nothing. They had known each other for over a thousand years and now that this misunderstanding had been cleared up, there was nothing they needed to say to each other anymore. They were brothers, they were there for one another. That's all that mattered.
Somewhere in the house, the clock struck midnight. They had four hours until departure.
It was finally revealed what secret missions England had been dishing out all day and evening. The nations assembled in the dining room where a feast fit for kings awaited them. Ireland and Wales had been sent shopping and Denmark, Finland and Sweden had taken care of the cooking.
"We can't go on a mission without a farewell party," England said. "Let the midnight feast begin!"
"Eat up everyone," Finland added. "You need all the energy you can get."
Iceland attacked his food like a wild animal. He loved the cooking of his relatives, especially Denmark's roasted goose, Sweden's meatballs and Finland's crayfish. The three cooks knew that and had been sure to include those dishes on the menu.
Scotland invited Iceland to sit next to him and Iceland accepted the offer, knowing that Norway would not feel threatened by it. Norway nicked to both of them from where he was sat at the table. Scotland was surprised at Norway's reaction, but seemed to quickly realize that the brothers had made up.
"When all this is over, you are welcome to visit me," Scotland said. "I wouldn't mind getting to know you better."
Iceland agreed and assured Scotland that he was welcome to his island anytime as well.
The nations deliberately didn't discuss the upcoming task at the dinner table. Romania and Germany were absent; they had been sent food to their room. The rest of the nations joked, laughed and ate as if there was no tomorrow.
The feast ended at 3:30 AM. It was time for the final preparations.
The nations were once again gathered in England's cellar. After having eaten such good food, it seemed like a shame to drink the horrid potions England and Greenland had prepared for them. Iceland downed the vials handed to him without stopping for a breath, hoping that drinking quickly would dull the taste. It didn't. Ireland distributed candies to thankful nations.
When everyone had drunk their potions, Greenland instructed the nations in how to decorate themselves with warding runes and then spoke the words needed to activate them. A last minute check-up of everyone's armour and weaponry was conducted when Romania and Germany showed up.
"Are we ready?" Romania asked.
England nodded.
"Everyone has the proper equipment and has been protected to the best of our abilities," he answered. "Each of us has three Goddess Tears. Should we need them, I'll be carrying the rest on me."
"Good," Romania said. "We will teleport. Please form a circle, only those who will be joining us in the Beyond."
Ireland, Wales, Tua, Greenland, Åland, Sweden, Finland and Denmark stepped aside and the rest of the nations joined hands in a circle.
"Take off your gloves Ice," Norway whispered. "Your skin has to be touching the people next to you."
Iceland did as he'd been asked. He put his gloves in his pocket, next to his three Goddess Tears. He looked at the family he would leave behind as he joined hands with the two nations next to him. They had already said goodbye to each other. They'd kept it short and sweet so that no one would be discouraged. Finland seemed to get a lump in his throat though when Iceland asked them to tell Fae and Herra Lundi that he loved them.
"Germany," Romania said when everyone was in position. "Enter the island, please."
Germany closed his eyes.
"I am there," he said.
"I will bring us there," Romania said. "Everyone, grab each other's hands tightly. We don't want anyone to be left behind. 3…2…1…"
Iceland felt his right hand being squeezed hard as he was pulled out of position and into an interdimensional vortex of some kind. He looked to the right and for a second, he saw France's horrified face flash by. Iceland smirked. He recalled that a person had huddled against him when Sherlock Holmes was awakened… It seemed that France was a scaredy-cat when it came to the supernatural.
Iceland landed on his face in soft, white sand and grunted. Judging by the sounds of the others, most of the nations had also had a rough landing. Iceland sat up, rubbing his jaw. A soft wind brushed through his hair and carried with it the salty smell of the ocean. Looking around, Iceland saw that they were on a tropical island, on a virgin beach next to a forest. The clear blue ocean reflected the strong rays of the sun. It looked like it was around noon here.
"Stay alert," Romania ordered. "We are not on Earth, but in Germany's dream. This island is on the borders between our world and the Beyond."
Iceland reflexively clasped his dagger. It did little to soothe his nerves. There was something off about this island; it permeated the air like a foul stench and had the nations on tenterhooks.
"We have 8 hours to find the gate and enter it," England reminded everyone. "We must not fail. If we do, we will forever remain puppets on a string for the Creator to play with as he wishes."
The nations looked at each other, determination shining from their eyes. They were ready. It was time they took their fate into their own hands.
Author's comments: Slavery was abolished in Iceland in the year 1117. Celtic slaves took up Nordic names and were fully assimilated into Nordic culture since their own heritage had been branded as slave heritage. They still brought many of their own traditions with them to Iceland such as folk lore (the hidden people and other Icelandic folk creatures are a mixture of Norwegian and Celtic folk lore), a rich literary tradition (without which the Sagas would never have been written), a familiarity with Christianity (which probably led to Christianity being accepted without bloodshed by the entire Icelandic nation in the year 1000), some place names, a few human names (like Kjartan, Melkorka and Njáll) and the famous Icelandic dairy product skyr (believed to have originated in Scotland as a type of soft cheese).
There is even speculation that the pronunciation and spelling of Icelandic has been somewhat influenced by the language of the Celts. According to historical and DNA records, the original settlers in Iceland were of 40-60% Norwegian origin and 40-60% Celtic origin (the numbers are widely debated and differ from source to source). In Iceland, we usually speak of the Celts as having been Irish, but in everyday speech, both the Irish and the Scots are usually referred to as our "cousins" in Ireland and Scotland ("frændur vorir Írar og Skotar").
I only refer to Scotland as being Iceland's half-sibling in this story and not Ireland, since mentioning them both would further complicate the already very complicated story, and because Scotland was the 3rd most voted for character for this story while Ireland only received two votes.