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William regretted conquering England.Oh, the benefits of being royalty was nice. He had an army, an heir, and a kingdom. For a man, it was a great achievement, for a bastard even more so. His name would go down in the history books as “William the Conqueror” and his descendants would rule a kingdom forever. What man wouldn't be pleased?Except…there was one tiny problem.His Nation.England was the second most terrifying being he had ever met. At first glance, he looked like a mere boy of thirteen summers. Golden hair, green eyes, ridiculously bushy eyebrows, and uncommonly pretty features. But he was the furthest thing from ordinary.His features were a tad too sharp and gave him an unearthly beauty. It never burnt in the sun and stayed the same perfectly fair tone. The sun would give his skin an odd golden sheen that made him shine in the day. What William feared the most though, was looking England in the eye.England's eyes were a piercing, peridot green that shimmered in ways that eyes shouldn't. They seemed to radiate light from the pools of his irises, just like the creature that threatened William in his dream.Even now, the thought of the creature made a chill travel down his spine.It appeared in his dreams the night he conquered England.The being was obscenely tall and muscular with tan skin, too-sharp features, and amber eyes with rivers of gold flowing from its head. It was in full battle armour, clad head-to-toe with blinding bright gold. William instinctively blinked his eyes to adjust to the sight. The being appeared human, but he knew without a doubt that it was anything but.Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run. Something at the back of his head, a leftover from the first humans in ancient times, yelled that there was something ancient, larger simply waiting to rip into him. William had to run.The first lesson of war was never to freeze. That would get you killed. So why couldn't he run?The entity? simply surveyed him like he was barely worth his time. Honestly, William wasn't. Not to this being. There was something intense on his face that made you feel like you were an ant under his stare.“William of Normandy,” the entity's voice reverberated through the dreamscape. “Son of Robert of Normandy and Herleva of Falaise. Duke of Normandy and King of England.”There was a strange lightness as the entity listed off his last title. William felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise in response.“You know, I admire ambition. It's an admirable trait to have. To conquer a kingdom? Quite a lofty achievement. Were it any other land I would've congratulated you for your success. Except—”Suddenly, the entity was right in front of him. William nearly—and he would never admit this to anyone—pissed himself. The entity was far too close, its teeth bared in a furious snarl. There were too many teeth. How did it have that many teeth?Y̶̧̖̬͚̑͒͂̽̽͜O̷̗͇̓͝Ǘ̶̦͖͊̈̈́́̀͐ ̴̜͑H̴̡̯͇͔̹͑́A̴̙͙͓̒̀̾͠R̶̝͂̌M̸̢̡͓̭͈͔̣͌̈́E̵̳̹̗̋̈́̄ͅD̴̛̬̥̜͓͎͍̻̔ ̶̧̡͚̲̩͚̓͑͆͌̀͗ͅM̴̼͉̭̈́Y̷̛̭̼̜̿̔̉̒̃͠ ̶͍̘̻̝̻͖̖̈́̀̃̕͝S̷̡̠̟͔̮̋͗̊̀ͅŎ̶̗̣̱̌̿͝Ņ̶̣̻̩͓̏̋̈́̕!̵͓̈́It was like a thousand voices were roaring at one. Anger laced with every word. William's ears rang and it took his sheer effort not to cover his ears.Then it struck him what the entity had said.“Great One,” he began, laying it on thick. Fuck, how did you even address an eldritch creature? He gathered years of etiquette and diplomacy he learnt as the Duke of Normandy and bowed. “I am afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I have never met your son, and should I have the honour of doing so, I would never lay a hand on him.”Fury danced in the pools of the entity's amber irises. “Oh, but you have. Are you so quick to forget your conquest? You razed my child's lands, killed his people, and dared to make him welcome you as king as if you did not throw him in agony. My son has been suffering since the moment you landed on his shores. You dare tell me you haven't hurt him?”William frantically tried to remember if he met anyone who radiated otherness like this eldritch being. He darted his eyes and studied the entity, trying to link its features with the people he had ever met.There was…something familiar about it.The golden hair, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, the slope of its nose, and that piercing gaze… Where had he seen it before?A memory of earlier today tugged in his head, of a boy with a similar furious snarl and blazing green eyes.
Merde.
“England,” William said faintly. “Your son is England.”It was so obvious now that he was looking clearly. England had the same golden hair, sharp features, and calculating gaze that made you feel insignificant.“Aye. The child who you A̷͕̥͓̭̪̫̽͒̈́̈́̒͊̌̎̓̈́T̸̳̥̒́͂T̷̯͙̭̙̖̄̐͋͌͂̾̈̇͌̚͘͠A̶̳̖͇̘͂͋̎̔̈́̽̀̈̅̇̈́ͅĊ̶̡̨̭͎̥̘̰̮̌̀̉̕̚K̶̢̨̪̤͓̬̦͇̈́͂̆͌̏͒̾̈́̑̀́͒͂E̸̢̢̱͍̻͔̳̥̺̎͌͊̆́Ḋ̴̡͖̺̩̰͎͔̊͋̃̈͒̂̾̑͛̕͜!”William was certain his internal scream of terror broke several records.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!
No one ever told him Nations could have parents. They supposedly appeared in the wild without a clue and were born to serve their people. Even the Nations with parents like the Italy twins shared blood with Rome because they had a shared culture and land. Nations weren’t supposed to have biological parents—there was no way the entity and England weren't blood-related with how similar they looked—and they weren't supposed to have eldritch parents!Fuck is this what England did when he disappeared? William had heard the rumours. But he never expected England to have a protective eldritch father! One who was clearly furious a foreign invader conquered his son.William could see his life flashing before his eyes.“I will not kill you.” The entity's golden eyes bore into his soul. When did they turn gold? Weren't they amber just now? “You are fortunate my son has asked me to spare your life for peace with his people.”He would grant England the highest honours after this as thanks.“But,” long fingers grasped his chin and raised it to look into furious golden eyes. William tried not to hiss in pain from the unbearable heat from the entity's fingers. He couldn't look away from the light emanating from its eyes. “I will not let my child be subjugated again to some foreign scum without protection.”The hand around his face tightened to a painful degree. A malicious smile stretched across the entity's face, a sharp, wide thing with far too many teeth.“You and your line and all those you come after you shall never lay a hand on Arthur or submit him to cruel, degrading punishments. Nor will you give anyone leave to harm him. You and any Rulers of England, now and in the future, shall treat him with respect, dignity, honour, and grace. Your petty squabbles and civil wars and political feuds are yours alone. None of you shall force Arthur into it or make him pick a side. You will let him go as he pleases and do as he wishes. You will have no say over his personal affairs or the right to confine him anywhere. He will have the freedom to express his own opinion, seek and share ideas, and follow his religion whether they are contrary to yours. He will be your equal in all things that matter. And you shan't breathe a word of this to anyone without prior knowledge or Arthur's consent. If you or anyone ever breaks these terms, you yourself shall have your soul torn to shreds.”There was a burning sensation on—what he instinctively knew was—his soul. William could hear the figurative click of a lock shutting as he and his line and anyone with a measure of ruling power in England—now and in the future—were bound by this…geas for perpetuity.Since then, William ensured he treated England with the utmost respect. It didn't matter when England yelled at him for harshly putting down rebellions or invading other kingdoms and calling him several rude names. If he were anyone else, William would've sharply punished him for taking that tone.But the entity's malicious voice echoed in his head. You will let him go as he pleases, do as he wishes and speak as freely as he wants…If you or anyone ever breaks these terms, you yourself shall have your soul torn to shreds.So William yelled back but never laid a hand on England or ordered him to be thrown in the cells. He treated the Nation with the respect and dignity of his position. It was galling being forced to stay on equal grounds with a child William was supposed to be king of. But he wasn't interested in learning what would happen if he broke the geas.The entity never said he had to prevent anyone from speaking ill of his Nation, but if it went this far to place protections for its child, surely it meant it wouldn't be pleased to hear others slandering him! Perhaps, it would even endear William to the entity and prevent his untimely death.William silenced every nasty comment from the courtiers who weren't in the know. He harshly punished anyone who spoke out of turn or dared to comment about England's barbarian tendencies. Who cared if the child wanted to run barefoot on the grass in the woods or talk nonsensically with the air? Let him! As long as he was happy, the entity would also be, and William could keep his head!He instilled the lesson in each of his children and ensured the rest of the nobility did the same with their ilk. By now, everyone knew the threat hanging over their heads. They had never seen the geas in action, but they were wary of tempting the wrath of this eldritch being.But alas there were always fools who could be counted on to do something idiotic. Who better to take on that role than the court idiot?Charles Lefebrve was uncouth and dull. A man weak of character without the charisma to make up for it. He was the son of one of William's generals and unfortunately inherited none of his father's integrity. He indulged in wine with his laziness and at times he could lash out...One night, Lefebvre had drowned himself in wine in the view of the entire court. He tried to stumble out of the hall but kept tripping with every step. England rushed over and attempted to help him up.It happened so quickly. Even now, William could barely process what happened. One moment, England was kneeling by Lefebvre's side and trying to assist him. The next, he was sprawled on the floor with an ugly purple-blue bruise in the shape of a handprint blooming across his cheek. Lefebvre was looming over him with his fists pulled back for another blow.The air was sucked out of the room. Everyone held their breaths in shock.Then the hall erupted into pandemonium. William yelled for the guards to throw Lefebvre into his rooms, armoured guards roughly dragged the drunk from the hall, and a swarm of servants and nobles surrounded England. There were frantic yells for a physician—never mind that England healed faster than other Nations, they were not risking the entity's wrath after what Lefebvre did.The next morning, Lefebvre had been found in his room. The ground was a sea of blood. His mangled body was barely recognisable and seemed to have been shredded by an animal. Large claw marks gashed over the red mass of flesh, all glowing with an energy that was anything but human. If William strained his ears, he swore he could hear mad cackles from the walls.William felt his heart drop past his stomach and down to the floor at the sight. No one needed an explanation. They all knew what happened.The geas claimed Charles Lefebvre's life.He felt as if scorching hands gripped his throat as the weight of the chains he was only beginning to comprehend tightened around him. The ruined face of Charles Lefebvre stared back at him, a promise and a warning.In the following years, William heightened the protections around England to the enthusiastic agreement of the court. They worked unanimously to silence any stray rumours of their Nation. Everyone knew England liked his privacy and didn't want his life to be advertised to the nosy Nations. A sharp smile and a pointed word here and there sent off any curious ambassadors scurrying away with their heads tucked between their tails.No one wanted to be the next Charles Lefebvre. If this would save them from whatever punishment the entity had reserved, they would gladly defend England and guard his secrets to the bitter end.William also lauded England with several titles—the Duke of Arcadia, Earl of Truro, Earl of Bournemouth and so forth. Never mind that he was the personification of the land—granting him lordships was redundant—the titles were simply there to give him status in court. Everyone knew that if England wanted to go somewhere, he would. It wasn’t like they would stop him. It was his land.Rarely were other Nations named a duke. Duchies were often granted to those of royal blood. Most royal families didn't feel the need to elevate their Nation to that status and settled for granting them the second-highest peerage. They certaintly didn't grant their Nations a host of titles and riches. Which meant giving such honours would show how highly they thought of him! Hopefully, this would appease the eldritch entity if they showed how much they treasured their son.There was nothing else William could do but pray his efforts paid off. What was done was done. There was no going back to those days in Normandy. Before the conquest. Before England. Before all this magical business.His time was almost up. Soon this geas horror would be none of his business anymore. William was under no illusions England hated him. The feeling was mutual, but they were bound as King and Country till death.The weight would pass down to the next generation and the next. England would always be by their side for better or worse. It was up to them to learn how to navigate this mess with the Nation and Damocles's sword hanging above their heads.William prayed his descendants would have better luck than he did.
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Henry braced himself for the screaming.Three.Two.One.The door slammed open and England stormed into Henry's study in a whirlwind of gold and crimson brocade and pearls.“HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MARBLES?!”Briefly, he registered England's aide, Jasper, and quickly closed the door, giving them both privacy. Not that it would do anything. England had some impressive dulcet tones when he got going. Only silencing wards would be able to stop the noise.The door briefly flashed gold, indicating the silencing ward had gone up. Oh, good. They didn't need to cause another rumour with their arguing. Not that Henry cared. The rabble would always speak. But he refused to deal with his advisers' insistence they “keep a united front against outsiders” as if he didn't know that. It was the unofficial motto of the royal family and aristocracy since the time of William the Conqueror! Henry wasn't fool enough to forget the lesson drilled into him from birth.“ANSWER ME, YOU FUCKING WANKER! WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING THIS TIME?”Lo and behold England's impressive lungs. Henry wondered how the man hadn't lost his voice yet with how often he screamed at him over the years. Even Henry went hoarse after several shouting matches. Not that he would admit it. He was the King. As if he would be outdone by anyone, especially if it was England.Henry sniffed. “I was thinking it was about time I got a new wife. It's unseemly for a king to be without a queen for so long.”There was a moment of silence where England gaped at him, momentarily lost for words. It didn't last long. The screaming started up again. This time it was louder than before.“YOU HAVE SO MUCH NERVE TO SAY THAT! HOW DARE YOU! CATHERINE ONLY DIED A FEW MOONS AGO AND—”That was when Henry started tuning him out. He leaned back in his chair and watched as England continued hurling abuse at him. He took a moment to study the Nation.England's finery was intact, meaning he didn't come to blows with his brothers. There was no discolouration on his skin or signs of hidden injuries. England’s incredible healing factor still took a few hours to heal the injuries of a brawl. If he got into a fight he would still be mottled with bruises. Good. So he wasn't hurt.Henry didn't think England's brothers would harm him, but you could never be too careful with outsiders. Wales was alright. He had him firmly under his yoke. But the Ireland twins were wild cards. He wasn't foolish enough to believe they didn't resent Englishmen for asserting the authority of the Crown on their lands. What if they took out their resentment on England?It was common knowledge that England's elusiveness had made him the subject of intense gossip. His brothers were the most persistent in trying to dig up information about him.Henry scowled as he thought about them. It didn't matter whether or not they were at war, it didn't stop them from sending countless envoys with questions about England. Hell, sometimes they even showed up in person! Scotland came over a few decades ago to witness Margaret's wedding with James IV of Scotland. They had a hell of a time blocking the Nation's attempts to seek England out. It took the joint effort of the servants, nobles, Henry, and his sisters to stop Scotland from bothering England.Bloody annoying Nations. Couldn't they take a hint? They had been a thorn at their side for centuries from William the Conqueror, Richard Lionheart, his grandfather and his father, to Henry himself. It was practically a rite of passage to politely and not-so-politely tell England's brothers to bugger off.Why did they want to speak with England so badly anyway? Their people had so much bad blood with each other. Surely the resentment had to rub off on them as well! But no, they just had to continue their efforts to see England.Fucking outsiders.“—YOU'VE HAD FIVE WIVES ALREADY, YOU BASTARD. FIVE! HOW MANY MORE POOR WOMEN ARE YOU—”Honestly, Henry didn't plan on telling England of his search for a new wife any time soon. His eardrums still hadn't recovered after he told England he would marry Catherine Howard.But plans changed. Ever since Parliament passed the act that named him King of Ireland, technically as subjects of the English Crown there was no reason Henry could refuse the Ireland twins’ request to meet England. Not like before when he could happily turn them away as foreign, hostile Nations who posed a threat to national security.His mouth tasted like sand when he had to write the invite to the Ireland twins. Bloody hell, his ancestors were rolling in their graves. It was their duty to defend England and guard his secrets. And now, here Henry was, letting bloody outsiders in.Things had been tense since the Ireland twins had arrived at the Palace. Their movements had been monitored by the courtiers and servants who reported back to Henry. They’d be fucking bonkers if they let outsiders interact with England without supervision. England was capable of protecting himself, but they couldn't let him enter a potentially hostile situation without backup. It went against everything they were taught to do.“You are a prince of England, Henry,” his mother had told him. “Our people have been under contract with the divine since the days of William the Conqueror. Lord Arthur is not simply our subject, he is our Nation, our equal in all things that matter. He would lay down his life and defend us to the bitter end. Likewise, we must protect our Nation and keep his secrets. Regardless of your issues with each other, we present a united front to the world. Protect him, watch each other's backs.”Perhaps this protocol had started of fear. Henry had no illusions about what drove the Conqueror and his court to put these measures in place. Lefebvre was a boogeyman who was told in children's tales, but he deserved it. According to the tales, the cunt smacked England hard enough he got a concussion along with a bruised cheek.Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being driven by fear. Oh, part of them would always fear the geas over their heads, but they wouldn't go to all these lengths because they were scared of the entity. It never said they were obligated to get England out of an awkward situation or protect him beyond the basic obligations.England had been by their sides since the day they were born to the day they would die. He laughed with them, cried with them, mourned with them. He saw them at their worst and best. Henry grew up with England reading him stories, playing tag with him, and singing him to sleep. He remembered afternoons when Henry's siblings and other noble children would gather around England in the gardens and beg him to teach them acrobatics, or when they crowded in his study and drew pictures on the carpet while England did his paperwork. They had their issues, but he was the one person they could trust to have their backs. He had fought and killed for them despite their differences.(Sometimes, Henry would stop outside England's solar and listen to him tell Elizabeth and Edward stories through the closed door. There was a time Henry was the one sitting on England's lap and listening to him read a fairy tale. Those days were long gone now. Part of him wished he could return to those simpler times.)They loved him. He was their Nation. They would protect him until the end of the line.So Henry patiently did his paperwork while England entertained his brothers. Fuck, he hated paper pushing. But he didn't need to give England more incentive to yell at him. He listened as the servants would come every once in a while with updates over the tense lunch. When one of the servants said England looked like he was about to leap out the window to escape the awkward lunch, Henry summoned Jasper.“I am in search of a new wife,” he said casually. “Inform England of the new development. He should know of the new queen.”Jasper bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty.”Henry pretended he didn't see the knowing gaze Jasper gave him. He waited till the man walked to the door before speaking up again.“And one more thing,” he said. “Run as swiftly as you can. Such wonderful news should be delivered with haste.” England will be suspicious if you don't look like you are in a hurry. Don't let him suspect.“At once, Sire.”And so here he was, letting England screech like the devil at him.“—ANSWER ME, YOU CUNT! DON'T JUST SIT THERE STARING LIKE A HALFWIT. YOU HAVE A MOUTH, YES? USE IT!”Next time, Henry would leave him there with the nosy outsiders. He was not going through this again. Fuck, hopefully, his eardrums survived this.(That was a lie. Henry would do it all over again if he needed to. For England. For Uncle Arthur, the man who helped raise him with love and care before their relationship soured.)Henry narrowed his eyes and snarled. Just because England was his Nation didn't mean he would stand for him trying to interfere with his plans. Henry was king, and no one was allowed to stop him from doing anything. “I AM KING, AND EVERY KING NEEDS A WIFE. I AM ALREADY THE LAUGHING STOCK OF CHRISTENDOM AFTER THAT WHORE, CATHERINE, SPREAD HER LEGS TO DEREHAM AND CULPEPER! I SHALL BE MOCKED FURTHER IF I ALLOW THIS TO STAND! I NEED A NEW WIFE! A VIRTUOUS ONE TO WIPE AWAY THE SINS OF HER PREDECESSOR!”England's eye twitched violently. A vein throbbed on his forehead as he sucked in a large breath. That was a bad sign. That was usually followed by—An enraged screech pierced his ears. Briefly, Henry noted there was an audible crack in the background. The windows must have cracked again from England's scream. At least they didn't shatter.“YOU FUCK KNUCKLE MONKEY SHIT FOR BRAINS!" That was a new one. "EVERY TIME THE WORDS LEAVE YOUR MOUTH, I AM ASTOUNDED BY HOW YOU MANAGE TO CONJURE THIS—”England continued ranting on while Henry retorted his arguments. Their shouting match reached an impressive record, but Henry felt at ease with the familiar routine. England would be so busy trying to block his search for a bride, that he wouldn't have time to let himself get cornered by his brothers again. And in the end, Henry would get his way and have a comely new wife. There was nothing England could do to stop him.Yes, this was fine.