Healed by the Cold
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Chapter One
The snow.
It fluttered around a lone figure standing in the woods, dancing an elegant path through the air. Joy emanated from the young man as small, white flakes clung to his eyelashes and hair. His clothing was completely white; his shirt and pants were covered by a flapping cloak. A white bag also hung on his back. He was the same color as the snow. Only his head could be discerned from the surroundings.
He began to walk. His blond hair reflected the little amount of light that pushed through the clouds. His eyes were lively and intelligent. They were also the color of glinting amethysts. No one else he knew had eyes as strange as his; then again, he did not know many people.
Something else was strange about him. He walked through the snow, yet made no sound. The crystals piled beneath his feet suffered no damage from him as he glided along their surface.
Of course, he was linked to the snow. The snow was joyous, shy, and pretty; it was also cold, harsh, and furious. He was the same; he would never do the snow any harm.
But other people did.
The distant crunch of a heavy boot stomping the snow was too far away to hear. But Finland, as was his name, did not need to hear it. He felt it quake through the ice until it reached him, sending an unpleasant shiver through his spine.
He felt the snow-killer come closer, but the other being was still too far away to perceive Finland by any sense—except for magic, at least.
Finland continued to walk, more quickly now. Magic, he mused. Yes, that was what it was. This connection to nature that he had; it was magic. Ice and snow were his brethren. He could ask them for help, and while they were offered the choice to say no, they usually followed him, even at the risk of their own destruction. Why? Because they understood him. They were connected. They would help each other until the end of time.
Suddenly, his eyes grew wide as he felt the snow wither some distance away; the crystals screamed as something—flames—licked through them hungrily, melting them into a cascading gush of water and sending puffs of steam into the air. Finland shut his eyes tightly. Water. It was one of his sub-elements. Ice and water and vapor, all interconnected within an intricate system of nature. But Finland was most tightly bound to ice; water came second, and he barely understood steam.
But what he was most concerned about right now was the melting snow. The region he traveled through was always freezing, never warm. It was perfectly suited to him, with snow and ice and water abundant everywhere he looked. Yet, someone felt the need to destroy it.
The snow stopped screaming. Finland opened his eyes in relief, but then gasped sharply as more pain echoed through the ice. A fury of indignation coursed through his body, searing him with the heat of cold, raging like an furious blizzard. He abruptly turned and sought out the source of the snow's pain.
It did not take long for him to find it.
A tall man, with dirty blond hair and black clothes, wielding a huge battleaxe, was the wrongdoer. He had fire magic, Finland realized, as the strange man clenched his fist around his weapon and fire raced along its edges. The orange flames reflected in Finland's icy eyes.
Suddenly, the man halted his path of destruction. He stiffened, standing straighter, and loosened his grip on his weapon. Finland silently lifted the hood of his cloak over his head, hiding his blond hair. Only his eyes could be seen now.
Without warning, the other man whipped around and pointed straight at Finland. A brilliant, orange ball of flame burst from his fingertips and flew at Finland, who quickly dodged out of the way. The man followed him easily, sending flame after flame chasing Finland. By the time the fireballs had ceased, Finland was panting for breath.
"Who are you? Reveal yourself! You are trespassing and I will not hesitate to capture you as prisoner!"
The tone was commanding; the man was used to being in charge. Finland glared at him and put a hand up, palm facing towards the man. Abruptly, the snow under the man's feet turned to water and he fell with a strangled yelp. As he fell, the water froze in a sweeping clockwise flow, trapping his lower body and arms under the snow. The man cursed. Finland smiled smugly but then jumped backwards as the other man launched himself out of the trap by propelling himself with fire ejected from his two feet.
Finland's eyes narrowed and he slowly crept backwards—and then he tripped on a thick tree root. He yelped as he plunged backwards, and the other man took the opportunity to leap over and smash the handle of his battleaxe on Finland's head.
The last thing Finland saw before being knocked unconscious was the gray sky.
"Ugh..."
Finland opened his eyes. An incessant noise had woken him from what seemed to be a deep sleep, and he realized that it was a fire crackling merrily nearby. At the sight of the flames, his recent memories flew back to him, and he cringed.
How embarrassing, he thought. To lose in such a fashion...
He pushed his damp hair out of his eyes and sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was lying in a comfortable bed in a small room. A wooden table and a few chairs, all handmade by the looks of it, were placed precariously near the fireplace.
Suddenly, he heard a tense conversation.
"What, Nor-nor? So what if I brought him back unconscious?"
"We're finding allies, idiot, not making enemies. And don't you dare call me Nor-nor ever again."
"Please, Nor-nor?"
"I will not hesitate to attack you, Denmark."
"But we're allies! And I asked the kid to come with me, but he refused!"
"You said that you were taking him captive as a prisoner. Not exactly the most encouraging word choice."
"Hey, I brought him back, and he'll help us out, right?"
"We sent you to get some water for Sweden, not to bring back a supposed ally."
"Hey, lose... a leaf... find... a cantaloupe?"
"I have nothing to say to that. And he's awake."
The door was slammed open as the man Finland had fought—Denmark, he figured from the conversation—blasted through it.
"Hey! I'm sorry to have hurt you, but will you join us? You will? Thanks! See ya around!"
And without further ado, Denmark disappeared, leaving behind another man with platinum blond hair and a disapproving expression.
"Uh..."
"Don't mind him," sighed the other man. "I am terribly sorry that he knocked you out. My name's Norway. You?"
Finland remained silent.
"I guess I can't really blame you for not saying anything," Norway said, pulling a kettle filled with hot water out of the fireplace. He poured two cups of simmering water before adding a few things to it. "Here, have some of this. It'll help ease the pain."
Finland was about to ask what the other man was talking about when a dull throbbing echoed throughout the chasms of his skull, reverberating from the point where Denmark had smashed him earlier. He cursed the man mentally as he accepted the cup.
"You're not drinking?" asked Norway, noticing that Finland hadn't moved after he had taken the cup. "It's not poisoned. I swear."
Warily, Finland took a sip of the liquid. He blinked as a sensation of coolness rushed down his throat instead of the heat he had expected from the simmering water. He tasted a hint of orange peel and a few other other things he could not identify. Sure enough, his head began to feel better after he had taken a larger gulp.
"See?" said Norway, drinking some of his own. "I swear, I need this just for the headache I get from talking with the idiot every day."
Finland laughed. Norway smiled wryly.
Then, someone appeared in the doorway again.
"Norway? Denmark told me that he woke up..."
"Ah, little brother," Norway said. He gestured to another chair.
"Shut up, Norway," the other person said, collapsing roughly into the seat.
"This is Iceland, my temperamental little brother," said Norway. "He doesn't like to call me big brother for some reason."
"We're all adults!" exploded Iceland. "I'm not some little kid who needs help with everything anymore!"
"Big brother."
"No."
"Big brother."
"Not saying it."
"Big brother."
"I don't know you."
The cacophony of noise increased in volume as the siblings bickered back and forth—and Denmark bounced back into the room.
"Hey, how's everyone doing—OW!"
A green fist materialized out of thin air and punched straight into Denmark's jaw, sending him crashing into the fireplace. Finland almost got out of the bed to help him before he remembered that, since Denmark seemed to be fire-oriented, the heat would not hurt him. The fist, on the other hand, left a nasty, purple bruise on the side of his cheek.
"What was that for?" yelled Denmark, climbing out of the fireplace (getting ash all over in doing so) and glaring at Norway.
"That was for knocking out our guest here," Norway said.
"Tch. Doesn't mean you get to break my jaw," muttered Denmark, rubbing his bruised cheek and sulking over to join the group. "So, what's your name?"
Finland blinked and was still silent. Denmark sighed.
"We're not going to kill you—"
"Finland."
Everyone looked at him. Finland ducked his head, embarrassed.
"Hm. Finland, huh?" said Norway. His blue eyes were deep like the ocean and dark, hiding any resemblance of emotion. "Interesting."
"What can you do?" asked Iceland, talking to Finland for the first time since he had entered the room. "Denmark said something about snow."
"Ice and snow," Finland replied. "Mainly healing and defensive magic. My offense is awful, but my support is decent."
They all sharply turned to look at him again. Finland pulled back slightly, feeling rather self-conscious as they all probed him.
"Did you say that you're a healer?" asked Iceland.
"Yeah?"
There was a pause.
"GREAT!" yelled Denmark, grabbing Finland's arm. "You're coming with me, now!"
And Finland was rudely yanked out of the bed—or, was about to be until Norway slapped Denmark out of the way and pushed Finland back.
"Uh, what just happened?" asked Finland.
Norway sighed. "There are four of us here. Me, Iceland, Denmark, and then another man named Sweden. He's not a magic-user, but he's a great fighter. He's injured pretty badly, and we need a magical healer."
Before Finland could comprehend what he was saying, he had already blurted out, "I'll help."
Norway turned to him, surprised. Iceland was as well. Denmark, on the other hand, laughed gleefully.
"See! I told you he'd help!" crowed Denmark, pointing at Norway and dancing around him, all the while laughing like a crazed banshee. "You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong!" he sang. He was suddenly pummeled into the fireplace again, and Norway stood up composedly.
"Are you feeling alright?" asked Iceland. His expressions were more clearly defined on his face, unlike his brother's. "You might not have enough strength after the idiot over there bashed your head."
"I'm fine," Finland said, struggling out of the bed and holding the back of his head. "Well, I'll cope, at least."
Finland saw Norway's mouth twitch upward. "Come with us, then."
Norway led them out; Finland followed him while Iceland and Denmark trailed behind him.
"How did he get injured?" asked Finland.
"Russia," replied Norway.
"Who?"
Everyone stopped walking and they all turned once again to stare incredulously at Finland; or, at least, Denmark and Iceland stared at him as though he was an alien while Norway simply raised both his eyebrows.
"You seriously don't know?" said Iceland. Finland shook his head.
"How can you not?" Denmark said. "He's been attacking all over the place since four months ago! Where have you been?"
"I've never heard of any trouble," Finland said, beginning to become nervous. "Who is he?"
"He's a magic-user," answered Norway, turning back around and continuing to walk along the hallway. Finland realized that they were in some sort of small fort. Brick walls passed by as they walked and Norway explained. "We don't know what he manipulates, but I have a feeling that it's dark energy. He's very powerful and has been raiding villages for a few months now. No one knows why, except for the fact that he's trying to find something. You really have never heard of him?"
Finland shook his head and tried to recall where he was a few months ago. Blank images presented themselves to his mind. He could not recall anything important.
"I really don't know," Finland said. And then he was struck by a most peculiar sense, a strong feeling of—fear. "I... yeah."
"Here," Norway said, opening a door. Finland peeked inside.
It was a spacious room, similar to the one Finland had rested in but larger. There was a desk and a table, as well as a few tools. A large sword was mounted on the wall; Finland could see that it was sharpened carefully and lovingly. A bed sat in the corner next to a fireplace.
A tall man was lying in the bed, wrapped loosely in a blue blanket, either asleep, unconscious... or dead.
"That's Sweden," Norway said. "He's been like this ever since Russia stabbed him with a knife a week ago."
Finland immediately grabbed a chair and sat down next to the bed. "Did you detect any poison?"
"Yes, actually," Iceland said, reaching into one of the desk's drawers and pulling out a small, glass vial. "Here it is. But that's not the only problem. Norway thinks its Russia's magic that's hurting him."
Finland took the vial and examined the contents. A bluish solution swirled about inside.
"Can I have my pack?" asked Finland. "I'm assuming you kept it."
"What pack?" asked Iceland. "Norway?"
"I don't know. Denmark?"
The volley of questions flew around and smashed straight into Denmark, along with the expectant stares of everyone else.
"Err... yeah, it's in my room."
He fled and shuffled back nervously with the white bag. Finland snatched it from the taller man and immediately sifted through the contents. He paused.
"Where are my gems?" asked Finland, a clear accusatory tone entering his voice as he glowered at Denmark. "Give them back, now."
"What gems?" asked Iceland.
"I had a bag of gems that I use for magic," Finland said. "But they're gone!"
"I didn't take it!" wailed Denmark, shrinking as Iceland and Norway turned on him too. "Please, I swear!"
Losing patience, Finland drained a cask in his bag of its water. Finland dangled the ball of water threateningly over Denmark's head. "Give it back, now. Or I will not hesitate to freeze you into a block of ice."
"Okay, okay!" Denmark yelped, pulling a small drawstring pouch out of his pocket. "Sheesh, no need to kill me!"
"Why did you steal his stuff?" yelled Iceland, jabbing a finger into Denmark's head repeatedly. "He's an ally, not a prisoner!"
"That's what I said too," Norway said. "But does he care? No."
"But they were pretty! Just like your eyes, Nor-nor," Denmark sighed dreamily. Finland blushed at the sickening sight, but, luckily, a green fist once again materialized to send Denmark hurling out of the room.
"He won't bother us anymore," Norway said. A faint pink tinge covered his cheeks as well.
"What is your power, anyways?" asked Finland, checking to see that all of his gems where in the bag still. "Telekinesis?"
"No, I'm a conjurer. Fairies and trolls, mainly."
"Interesting."
Finland began pulling out a variety of materials that he set on the table, moving around with expert speed. Noticing that Norway and Iceland were simply staring at him, he felt rather nervous.
"Err, sorry, but could you leave me alone? I can't concentrate with so many people looking at me," Finland said nervously. Norway nodded.
"Of course. Call us if you need anything. We are indebted to you for helping us."
"No problem," Finland said as the siblings left the room and shut the door.
The quiet crackling of the fire was the only noise other than the faint breathing of Finland and the warrior. He proceeded to test the poison. Producing several glass vials and a rack to hold them, he added a drop of poison to each one. Solution after solution entered each tube, different reactions bubbling in some while nothing happened in others. Each and every combination was noted in a handy notebook that Finland always made sure to carry around along with plenty of ink and a pen. He toiled for almost an hour before he finally sat back and looked over his notes. He had used up most of the poison, leaving only a few drops in the tube.
Finland produced a book from the depths of his bag, an extensive guide to poisons and antidotes. He pored over the book, scanning for poisons that matched the traits he had discovered for it. Finally, he narrowed it down to one choice and curiously began to retrieve ingredients for the antidote, wondering why the strange man—Russia—would use a poison with such a simple antidote.
"The poison isn't the problem at all," Finland mulled. "It's just a distraction. The magic is what's causing the wound. Strange. Who is this Russia, anyways?"
Russia.
Finland blinked. A flood of crazed images submerged his mind in confusion.
Russia. Magic. Symbols. Dark energy. The stone is gone.
Finland took a sharp breath and tore himself out of the endless barrage of memories. He shakily continued to analyze the poison, nervous beads of sweat trailing down his cheek, weaving arcane signs as they slid down...
The antidote was done after an hour of work. The task had taken Finland's mind off of the unsettling memories. Finally, he sat next to his patient, Sweden. Finland watched him curiously. He was breathing lightly, his chest barely moving up and down. Blond hair framed his serious face.
Finland coaxed the man's mouth open and poured the antidote into it, gently helping the liquid down into his stomach and not his lungs. The man did not stir. Finland sighed and pulled back the blanket to examine his injured arm. The upper half of his muscular left arm being wrapped in bandages, Finland figured that this was the arm he needed to heal.
Unwrapping the bandages, Finland winced as an ugly looking wound surfaced. He poked it gently and figured that the knife must have stabbed in and then swung up to create such a long gash on the man's bicep. Finland immediately set to work. Pulling out a bottle of ethanol, he proceeded to sterilize the wound, dabbing at the injury with a cotton ball soaked with the cleaning liquid. Then, he took a deep breath and brought out a bottle of water from his bag. Drawing the liquid out into the air as he had done a few hours ago to threaten Denmark, he gently laid the water on the man's arm, engulfing the wound in liquid that Finland quickly converted into ice. That being done, he gently allowed his magic to seep into the material, causing the ice to shine with a hidden light and soothe the wound, easing any pain that might be causing his patient discomfort.
After he drew the ice away to store in his bottle as water again, he fished out a fresh roll of bandages to wrap the man's arm in. The simple, familiar sequence of wrapping around, tucking in, and tying came easily to Finland's adept fingers now, even though he struggled with it when first learning how to tie the cloth. He finished off the last knot, securely wrapping the man's arm in the clean bandages, and stood up to clean his own hands.
And then Sweden's eyes snapped open as he grabbed Finland's arm in a strong, inflexible grip.