Mathias Sørenson sat in the middle of the motheaten couch of his Copenhagen home, a pile of beer bottles scattered across the floor. Sweden would usually pick them up and cast a dark soul searching glare at the Dane while Finland bounced around excitedly like a puppy trying to help but managing somehow to make the mess worse. Mathias couldn't help but smile, even for a second as he reminisced about times gone by, when all five of them lived peacefully together. With a sigh he leaned back on the couch, turning icy blue eyes to the ceiling. For a moment a steeled violet gaze flashed into his mind. Norge. His beautiful little brother. Lukas always claimed to hate the rest of them, but if you could catch the guy alone he really was sweet! Honest! The dane clenched his eyes shut, instinctively leaning forward in case the Norge was here and somehow able to read his thoughts. After a few moments, not until no crushing pain of Norwegian foot to his manhood came around did he realize- Nej... I'm alone. They are gone. Their own homes... they... don't need me anymore. He stood up, pausing to lean down and pick up a beer bottle. One of hundreds. It had been a month or seven since he last cleaned the place. Had he ever? Probably not. He shrugged and walked into the kitchen, tossing the bottle into the overflowing trashcan. Meh. Iceland would usually be there at the table with Mr Puffin, munching on a bunch of crackers or jelly beans or something. Quite productive, that one. Sarcasm. He opened the fridge to find his supply of beer depleted. He'd have to tell Norge to ho on a beer ru- wait. He's not here. None of them are. Mathias Sørenson, the former King of Northern Europe was alone. They don't need me... but... Can't they see? I need them...