Chapter Text
For many, the past is not a complicated thing. There are no theories about who founded what or who settled where first. Most have gone by the same name for centuries, even if they got the privilege to add the title empire with it. Some have been colonies, and other colonized. Most nations were surrounded by people from the moment they came into the world, never really having to stray from their customs, religions, and languages for hundreds, if not thousands of years. Canada was not so lucky.
Matthew Williams, personification of the country called Canada, was wishing he had stayed home that day instead of going to the meeting. As usual, they weren't getting anything done and Matthew was wondering why he even bothered to come to the World Conference anyways. The only thing it succeeded in doing was lowering his self-esteem every time he wasn't noticed. He slumped in his seat and observed his fellow nations. America and England were arguing again, probably about something trivial, while France watched on in amusement. The Italies were as opposite as could be. Feliciano was hugging Germany and talking about pasta or some other nonsense, while Lovino was glowering at Spain after a repeated attempt for a kiss. Canada's gaze continued to roam the room. Japan was talking quietly with Hungary, gesturing to a manga that laid on the table in front of them. And the Nordics... Canada's breath hitched.
"Storebror, why must you and the others leave?" A small blond child looked up at a man dressed in a fur coat and armor.
"Because Lille Bjørn," It wasn't until the person spoke that it became evident that it wasn't a man, but a teen dressed like a viking. The viking ruffled the light blond hair upon the child's head. "We have to get back to our own countries. But not to worry. We shall come back to get you two years hence the next moon wanes."
A cry from the nearby ship caused the viking's head to snap up and he responded rapidly in a language the child had only learn pieces of. "Farvel lille bror, I have to go. Sverige is about to set the ship to sea."
The child stood there on the beach for hours, long after the ship left, waiting for some sign that his storebror would come back. But he never came.
Canada shook his head rapidly to get rid of the distant memories that he'd almost forgotten. The Nordics were still goofing off, except for Iceland who was talking with Hong Kong, and Sweden, who never seemed to get capable of any emotion on his stoic face.
"Dude!" America's shout caught Canada's attention and he looked over to where his brother was standing up with his hands on the table in anger. "The Hero cannot be cute as a kid. He has to be strong and powerful." Alfred flexed his arms like a mock wrestler.
England snorted. "I raised you, you little wanker. Let me tell you this. Had you not been cute, I probably would have killed you soon after finding you. Bloody annoying child you were."
"Ha!" America barked. "Where's your proof old man?"
"Proof? You want proof?" England took out his spellbook. "I'll give you proof."
He started chanting in Latin and Canada noticed how terrified his brother looked. No doubt he was scared of Arthur's messed up spells and accidents. Matthew sighed and decided he better put a stop to it.
"Arthur."
England continued chanting.
"Arthur!"
"Ostende mihi praeter gentis nomine Ego et pater de vobis…" Arthur jumped when Canada tapped his shoulder. "Huh, what? Matthew!"
With a flash, the room disappeared in smoke.