Norway's cell phone rang. He checked it. Scotland.
"Hello, Scotland."
"Norway! It's good t' hear from ya."
"What do you want?" Norway was suspicious. The Scottish man did not make small-talk. Also, having spent many centuries hauling Denmark out of taverns, bars, and pubs, Norway knew when people were absolutely pissed.*
"My bloody brother is tryin' to make me join him!"
"England wants you back in the UK?"
"Aye. D'ya need an ally?"
"I don't, but it seems like you might."
"Aye. I cannae g' back t' him!"
"Is Glasgow out of alcohol?"
"Why d'ya ask?"
"It sounds like you are drunk."
"Hm."
Norway decided to drop it. "Where would you like to work out our alliance negotiations?"
"Isle o' Man."
"Excellent."
Scotland stood on the shore of the Isle of Man. He looked out at the sea.
Everything came from the sea. Even scientists told him that the first life on land had come from the sea. The first people he had met, other than his own, had come from the sea to the east. But that was long ago.
The sun had nearly set, its last few golden rays of light spilling across the waves. As he gazed across the ocean, he thought he saw something -a long ship? - silhouetted by the sun.
But that was impossible. Long ships had not sailed in these, or any, waters in nearly a thousand years.
"Scotland."
A voice behind him startled the Scottish man. Still, he was proud of himself for not showing his surprise as he turned around. (Besides, the voice was not speaking in an English accent.)
"Norway."
"Blue and white suit you."
"Thank ye."
"Red never did go with your hair."
"He dinnae change th' flag when I left, d'ya know tha'?"
"I am aware." Norway let a small amount of irritation into his voice. "Enough small talk. Our alliance: what are the terms?"
Scotland noticed that Norway seemed…taller now. His wrists stuck out just a little from the edge of his jacket cuffs, and he was able to meet Scotland's eyes without tilting his head back. That had never happened before. Strange.
"I'm yer equal, not yer colony."
"Seems reasonable."
"Ye must come t' my defense if my brother attacks again."
"Again, that is reasonable."
"If ye gain territories in France, they are t' be given t' me."
Norway nodded. "I am aware of that." He paused. "And in return…?"
"Any lands gained in th' southern part o' the Isle are yers."
"And?" Norway prompted.
"I'll fight in yer wars when ye ask."
"That is reasonable."
"Then let us seal our agreement." Scotland offered Norway his hand, and Norway shook it.
"It will be like the old days," Norway murmured, staring out at the sea. "In some ways, anyway."
"All o' us 'gainst my brother? Aye, tha' it will."
A/N: This chapter was inspired by two things: the phrase "Scandinavian Scotland", and the Auld Alliance (the alliance of France and Scotland against England). History makes its own ships.
*Also, in this case, "pissed" is British slang for drunk, not American slang for "really angry."