Summary: [[ A Norwegian calls. The Dane seeks. The Russian plays. ]] - Lukas Bondevik, the personification of Norway, is in an alliance with the Russian nation. Ivan Braginski have found a new play thing and a great asset. Nicolaj Densen, Denmark, is worried for the Norwegian, who keeps disappearing and coming back with concealed wounds and lies. What will happen next?
Warning/s: Mild swearing. For now.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Prologue - Comrade and Best Friends
The forest was dead silent, still as the full-moon night., until the ambience was broken as hurried, light footsteps made their way through the dried leaves that laid innocently on the forest floor.
He ran and ran. His puffs of breath was visible in the cold night as his legs carried as fast as they can through the dark forest. His inkjet coat tail fluttered harshly against the wind that whipped against his covered face.
Must hurry..! The urgency in his thoughts sent another adrenaline rush through out his body, his muscles contracting and his heart thumping against his clothed chest loudly. Must tell… the others…!
A shot rang clear in the air.
Time moved slowly as the man was a minute late realizing what's going on.
He stopped dead in his tracks before looking down. Blood. Blood on where his heart was. No.. Nei.. This isn't happening!
He fully turned to the shooter, who had revealed their self under the pale moon's gaze.
" Y-You…" the man stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentences because of his situation. He crumpled to the ground as he clutched his wounded chest.
The gunner wore a long, tan coat and a pair of dark boots. In his grasp, it seemed he was not only holding an arm, but also a pipe. He was also wearing a light pink scarf that gently swayed in the chilling breeze.
The shooter advanced. The man gasped for breath as he felt his heart growing faint. His vision was beginning to cloud over.
"You will survive, da?" the other man said, his deep voice had a hint of a Russian accent, sounded a bit childish but there was a tinge of coldness and menace in it, "After all, you need to relay a message to your Nation, da?"
The injured man said nothing as he struggled to keep awake, however he was failing. He sent a dark glare at the other.
He froze.
His brown eyes were met with a pair of distant, smiling lavender eyes. Evilness can't even describe what he was seeing in the Russian's eyes. Fear coiled within him as his glare softened and was replaced with a terrified look.
"Tell your Nation," continued the Russian, looking down at him, holding the man's gaze with his own, "That Russia will be willing to co-operate in an alliance in one condition-"
The man's eyes widened and after the Russian's lips moved, he was out cold.
A few years later…
A blue-eyed Dane with spiky, short golden hair happily bounced on the familiar porch, his eyes flickering everywhere. There was an air of excitement and impatience around him that it was noticeable from a distance.
Hurry up, Norge! Answer the door already! He yawned and was about to press the doorbell again for the umpteenth time when the oak door swung open and a force greater than an eighteen wheeler truck, collided with his face without a warning.
"Oh fin-" BAM!
The Dane was thrown off in the air, fifteen feet from the ground and exactly seven meters away from the door step. He landed on the emerald grass carpet with a soft thump, barely conscious. He blinked several times before sitting up straight and rubbed his aching cheek, where the fist had made contact with. He pouted and directed a "puppy-look" towards the owner of the house.
His friend and brother, the Norwegian. Lukas Bondevik.
A short but lean Norwegian man with soft platinum blonde locks and indigo irises, stood at the doorway, frowning upon the sight that had disturbed his abrupt nap. His glower intensified when the other had turned to him with "that" look.
"Noooorgeeee!" the Dane whined loudly as if it he were a child, "Why did you do that all of a sudden?"
The Norwegian strode out from the house and stood a distance away from him, his arms crossed, his hips on the side. "You're the one who woke me up in the middle of an afternoon nap. Gud, why do you even bother to visit me when you're just going to bug the hell out of me, Nicolaj Densen.. Denmark!"
Nicolaj straightened up and rubbed the back of his head, "What do you mean, "why"?" He laughed, "Because you're my best friend and my brother!"
Lukas rolled his eyes, "You never change, bror…" This had been the third time that the Dane had visited him this month. It's usually like this every month. He would come up right at his door and drag him outside, whenever he should be working on his late paperwork and the passing bills assigned by the government. And also…
The Norwegian let him in quickly and shut the door after his brother practically pounced his way in- almost. He went to the kitchen to fix up some hot beverages to warm their bellies as the other went to the living room. The said room had a dull golden wall with a large square-shaped window, where the sun filtered through the translucent glass. The velvet midnight blue curtains were drawn away and showed a summery scenery outside. Nicolaj lingered for a bit near the windowpane, staring at the April clear sky before moving to the crimson patched sofa and sat there. His sapphire eyes darted to the flat TV placed at the wall and wondered if there were any great news happening at the other countries. He grabbed the remote off from the table across from him and switched it on, the face of the anchoress popping in.
Breaking news! The Russian Federation had made an announcement to the world earlier today during the meeting of the Russian officials and the Norwegians-
The Dane rose a brow. Lukas's government officials meeting with the Russian bastards? What is this? How come I didn't-
The next words that the anchorite spoke shocked him and gave him the answer.
The Russian Federation and the Kingdom of Norway settled an alliance and thus, the Russo-Norwegian Pact, has been formed- This agreement consists of helping one another and strengthening their economies by importing-
The words died down as the lady kept talking. There was a video footage where the Norwegian president was shaking hands with the Russian officials. The Dane tried to processed what he just heard but it seems he was like attempting to decipher an alien's language.
What does this mean? An alliance? My brother, my Norway? With the Russian?
There's no way this could be true… The Russian is playing tricks again. Besides, there's no way that Lukas could-
"Bror?"
He snapped out from his thoughts and briefly glanced over his shoulder to see Lukas holding a tray of two steaming mugs filled with hot chocolate. He blinked before regaining his composure, quickly turning the TV off, hoping that the Norwegian didn't see it.
"Hej there!" he grinned as he hopped off the couch and went over to his brother. The Norske looked at him oddly before following the other back to the kitchen. He set the tray down in the counter, taking the hot drink to his lips and slowly sipped it. He watched the Dane seized the other one and did the same thing. There was an air of silence before the tall Nordic cleared his throat, deposited the half-empty cup on the counter.
"Um, Norge…" he started, looking unsure of what he's about to ask, however he's determined to know the truth, no matter what. He steeled himself again and gazed at the other's wondering, silent gape, "Did you happen to befriend someone for the past few days? Or months?"
The other seemed to paused for a second before sighing, "Nei. I have not made any friends for the past few days. Why did you ask?"
The Dane anxiously scratched the back of his head, an old habit of his when he's feeling uncomfortable and awkward, "W-Well…" It's now or never. "I saw the news earlier and it says that you made an alliance with Russia…"
Time seemed to move leisurely as the Norwegian nearly dropped his drink. He was frozen for a moment before he gave the other a fleeting look. Nicolaj bit the corner of his lip as he waited for the other's response.
"W-Well?" he prodded, "Is it true or is Russia bullshitting the world?"
Somewhere in Moscow…
The personification of the Russian nation sat in his padded chair, poised forward with his elbows against the hard wooden desk while the back of his hands held his chin. His lavender, calculating orbs examined the chess board before him, the pieces already in play.
His lips curved in an amused, cruel smile as he took a black knight and placed it diagonally across the white King.
"Your turn, comrade…" he whispered as his amethyst eyes gleamed with pure malice and coldness, "Mother Russia will always get what he wants, da?"
A/N: Here's the prologue you guys… Review and stay tuned, da? ^J^
Chapter One - Trouble starts to stir as Nicolaj dreads the news of the pact between Lukas and Ivan. Meanwhile, Ivan devises a plan to force the Norwegian to play his dangerous game. The others? Let's just say that more than sparks would fly at the next world conference.