The three knights had suddenly barged into the meeting room. Their smirks grew even wider at the nations' baffled faces, except for Ireland who rather chose to keep his face on the table. The tallest of the three, recognised as Scotland, wore a red tunic on top of his metal armour which matched his similar fiery red hair. Next to him was England with a yellow tunic which matched his gold blond hair. The third night, the nations recognised him as Wales, was wearing a black tunic because they couldn't find a brown one to match his autumn brunette hair.

"That's why I told them I should have been the knight instead of Wales." North said to no one in particular.

"Nah, I don't like llamas. I prefer sheep." the Welsh nation replied calmly as if that reason alone was more than enough explanation as to why the brunette Welsh should be a knight rather than the black-haired Northern Irish.

"Enough, brothers. Let's start!" Scotland commanded and out of nowhere music began to play.

The Irish nation slowly lifted his face from the table. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious as to his brothers were about to do.

"I'm a knight," Scotland boasted hitting his chest.
"I'm a knight," England followed in the same smug manner.
"and I'm a knight," Wales pointed to himself with his thumb.

"And our only aim in life is to fight" the three sang in unison.

"I'm a knight," Scotland shouted between France and Ireland's ears. Ireland groaned in irritation.
"I'm a knight," England did the same to Germany and Italy which prompted the Italian to cry and clung on Germany's arm for dear life.
"and I'm a knight," Wales sang as he leaned on the Northern Irish nation and his llama. North rolled his eyes while the llama didn't seemed even the slightest bit bothered.

"We fight by day, and when it's not so bright. We're not so bright!" The tree knights sang together again linking their arms on each others shoulders.

"We like to beat, and chop and stab our wicked enemy," the Scottish knight sang while demonstrating with his sword.

"But all the time we try to stick to rules of chivalry," England added.

"Rule one, we have to do brave deeds for some great lady fair," the Welsh nation explained; lifting his index finger for all to see.

"I'd write poems," England sang and was about to read his poems, (which he did not spend the whole night writing, definitely not) before Scotland interrupted him.

"I would joust, like real men do, England. Real men," Said man scowled.

Before a fight could break out, Wales continued, "Well I would fight a bear," the Welsh nation paused a bit before adding, "Well, maybe a teddy bear."

The three (or at least two of them) must had rehearsed this, because at that moment Scotland held up a teddy bear in front of Wales. One which England recognised. The blond knight's eyes went wide as saucers.

"Wait, thats-!" Too late.

Wales swung his sword down and split the bear into two.

"NO! GEORGIIIEEEEE!" England dropped to his knees. Holding the headless body of his teddy bear. His bear who was always with him through thick and thin. Tears were pricking on his eyes, but alas the show must go on.

"I'm a knight," Scotland sang cheerfully.
"I'm a knight," Wales followed, a too sweet smile decorating his face.
"and I'm a knight," England finished lamely with a depressing aura around him.

England's eyes suddenly glinted dangerously and with more volume than necessary practically shouted,
"And our only aim in life is to fight!" He then proceeded to swing his sword at his brothers, narrowly missing their heads by mere inches.

The two ducked the attack and each quickly got a hold of England's arms before he could attack again. They dragged their younger brother to the side as if avoiding the audience. Surely they realised this was a meeting room and not a stage?

The other nations' gazes followed them. Most had their eyebrows raised quizzically, wondering what the heck was going on.

The music died down, giving both the performers and the audience a chance to relax. Not that anyone could. Except maybe the llama who chewed on one of America's burgers and then violently spitted it out at the taste.

"Oh, come on! McDonald's delicious and that was my favourite jacket!"

Meanwhile the three knights were whispering to each other.

"Calm down! We agreed on a truce today, didn't we?" Scotland whispered.

"Yeah, and you can just stitch George's head back later anyway," Wales reasoned.

"Besides," the two said in unison, "we are here to mess with the other nations, right?"

At that England stopped thrashing about.

"And whose idea was it that we do this?" Scotland added, sensing that his brother had finally gone back to his senses.

"Look at their reactions, England. Its priceless! This is the best idea you've had in years!" Wales followed.

A new fire flickered in England's eyes and an smirk grew on his lips.

"Well, come on, brothers. We're not finished, yet."

The other two beamed and the three once again made their way to the centre of the stage, I mean, meeting room where their audience were warily waiting (because whispers are never signs of good things).

England was now back with that impish look on his face. In fact, his face seemed even more determined than before. He waved his right hand and the faeries took it as the signal to start the music again.

"I'm a knight," Scotland started.
"I'm a knight," England continued.
"and I'm a knight," and Wales followed.

"We charge ahead, but never left or right. We're never right!" the three sang in unison with a huge smile on each of their faces.

"Rule two, we have to practise in the noble art of war," the brunette knight sang while holding up his index and middle fingers.

"Battle for our king and country, that's what knights are for," the blond knight elaborated.

"And if there is no war to fight, a-hunting we will go," the red-head released his bow (where did that came from?). The arrow zoomed across the round meeting table and lodged itself on the wall, right next to poor Lithuania who just happened to be sitting on that spot.

"We hunt for deer and rabbits too, so long as they are slow," Wales sang, ignoring Lithuania's horror-stricken face and shaking body.

"Otherwise we can't catch them!" the other two brothers nodded in agreement.

Scotland."I'm a knight."
England. "I'm a knight."
Wales. "and I'm a knight."

Together now! "And our only aim in life is to fight."

"I'm a knight, I'm a knight and I'm a knight" The three sang in the same routine.

"We are fighters and our armour's always tight," Scotland sang as he tried to pull on his suffocating collar.

"And these swords aren't light!" England pretended to fall with his sword in hand.

"Rule three, in war we aim to capture other knights alive," Wales put up his fingers signalling the number three.

The Scottish knight put his sword around England's neck.
"Their families pay us lots of dosh so long as they survive," he sang and then roughly let his brother go.

The English knight stayed calm, dusted himself, and sang his part.
"We act like gentlemen, and only fight with other gents."

"A real knight, he would never fight against peasants!" Wales continued, "Anyway, peasants pong! Eurgh!" The three pinched their nose and made disgusted faces. All three pairs of green eyes fell upon a certain French nation.

"Merde! Why are you guys always picking on me?"

"I'm a knight, I'm a knight and I'm a knight" Once again in turns!

"And our only aim in life is to fight" All together now!

"I'm a knight, I'm a knight and I'm a knight" Scotland, England, and Wales linked shoulder to shoulder.

Everyone! "When we ride to war we're such a splendid sight. We are a sight!"

The three held on the last note for a very long time. Even when Scotland and England were out of breath, Wales just kept going on and on until everyone got bored and England decided to stop him with a smack to his back, which resulted in the older nation choking on his own saliva.

"Alright! Now let's go find the Holy Grail!" Scotland gestured to his brothers.

The three knights (England brought what was left of George with him) ran out of the meeting room laughing manically all the way, followed by North Ireland who was riding on his llama.

The meeting room was silent (once again). Ireland gaped at the door his brothers left through, then he slammed his head to the desk repeatedly. Why, oh why did they not invite him in their acts? Hell no! I'm lamenting the fact that I'm bloody related to those fools! Right...

Is the llama gone? Good, don't want to be spitted by that thing. Looks like the UK brothers had caused a serious mental disturbance to the other nations. Oh well, let's just hope they find that holy grail. What? Wrong show? Well, that sucks.

Oh, I just remembered I have this note from the author. Let's see, it says here...

"Firstly I would like to thank Saturn-Jupiter for letting me borrow George, and while I sadly could not returned him back in one piece, I am sure that England will fix him in a jiffy. In the mean time, I would like to offer you...the rat? You can chase him, cook him, cut him open, or give him to...a cat?"

Hey! You can't do that! This story won't update without me! What? The note?

"...Don't worry about that, there's plenty of talking rats around. In fact we've held an audition?"

Alright that's it! I'm outta here!...for now.

Ah, author here! It seems the rat is in a bit of a bad mood. He just can't take a little joke. Anyway, once again big thank you to Saturn-Jupiter and to Extra Penguin and Cupkakinator who reviewed. Also, I could not believe that after two chapters I still haven't say the disclaimer. Well, I'm sure all of you already know, right? Just in case, though...

Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekazu Himaruya. Horrible Histories belong to BBC. OC! Scotland belong to pixiv user Repeko. Other OC s kind of, sort of, belong to me, I guess.

Next chapter: An annoying character! Yeah, that's all the hints you get.

Feel free to request a sketch!