I Know What You Fear Most

It started as a day like any other. Tensions were high in Denmark's house, but that was usual. The clashing personalities of Matthias and Berwald kept the household holding their breaths, waiting for the next fight to take place.

It's not fair to poor Emil, Lukas thought, his expression as emotionless as ever as the "family" sat down to supper, He shouldn't have to live in constant fear of his own brothers because he never knows what could set them off. Norway turned his blank gaze to Tino and immediately knew something was about to go down. The usually bright and smiling nation was near tears, staring down at the table. His right arm was intertwined with Sweden's. Berwald's steely glare was backed up with fire and determination. Whatever he was about to start, he wasn't going to back down.

And, as usual, Matthias was completely oblivious to the aura of mutiny thickening in the air.

"-and then I chased Arthur and his pathetic army until the sun went down! Hahaha, the way this campaign's going, I'll conquer England in no time!" The Dane continued to laugh and talk about battles they'd all participated in like he'd won them single-handedly.

Who landed every arrow they fired? Finland. Who matched you in strength and valour on the field with half the recklessness? Sweden. Who worked so hard to impress you during that battle, only to have you leave him out of the retelling? Iceland. And who protected you all from England's violent mythos; from being hexed, cursed, turned to stone, mauled, and eaten? Me. Lukas' inner rant was interrupted by Berwald standing, his glare fixed on Den. Tino bit his lip and closed his eyes, his hand still in Swede's. Neither of them had touched their food. Matthias' smile remained bright, but his eye's burned with anger at Berwald for disrupting his story.

"Sit down, Ber," his voice was relaxed, the undertone threatening, "I'd hate for you to miss the best par-."

"W're leav'n'," he stated, never breaking eye contact.

Den laughed, "That's a good one Ber! I didn't know you could be so funny." He spit the last word out through gritted teeth. His eyes locked onto Finland, who was still seated. "Isn't he so funny, Tino?"

"It's not a joke," the Fin answered softly, but with no sadness or fear, "He's leaving. I'm going with him. I'd convinced him to give you one more chance, to listen to you recount the day's battle. You failed, and that's that." Norway could see that the small nation had switched to soldier mode; calm, collected, and prepared to fight the moment Matthias breathed the wrong way. A small hand snuck its way into Nor's and squeezed it tightly. Lukas returned his grip to let him know he was there. He kept his eyes locked on Denmark.

"Nah, I don't fail," Den said with a grin, standing up, "I'm a conqueror. I take what I want and I never fail."

"Y're c'nceit'd," Berwald growled, "Y're v'n 'n c'cky 'n I c'n't st'nd th' s'ght of ya." The Swede took a step towards the door. Before his foot hit the ground again, Matthias was on him. Lukas pulled little Emil into his lap and covered the boy's eyes with his free hand.

"Ears," Nor commanded quietly. Iceland obediently covered his ears with his hands as yet another brawl began. A loud crash brought Lukas' attention back to the fight. Tino had managed to pull Denmark off of Berwald with surprising strength. Den launched an elbow back into Finland's nose, causing him to stagger back. Matthias turned, continuing the motion into a haymaker punch. The force was enough to knock the Fin off his feet and into the wall by the door. Berwald let out a vicious snarl as he tackled Den into the table in a choker hold. Norway jerked away to protect Emil from the massive oak table as it flipped, clipping his elbow. Pain jolted up his arm and spread through his body. His eyes watered against his will, but he remained silent for Iceland's sake. Denmark slammed his head into Berwald's repeatedly, until his grip loosened enough for Den to break free and throw him back. Matthias stood, breathing heavily with fire in his eyes. He pulled a dagger from his belt and stalked slowly towards Sweden.

"Give up," he barked, "You will never make it as your own nation! You need me to protect you!"

"Y're wr'ng," Sweden grunted as he picked himself up and prepared for the next bout, "Ya tr't 's l'ke d'rt 'n 'xp'ct 's t' st'y 'n l't ya b'lieve y're s'me k'nd of h'ro." He wiped a trail of blood from his chin.

"I AM a hero! Better yet, a god!" Den declared, "I've saved your sorry, pathetic excuse for a country more times than I can count! You'll die on your own, idiot!"

"I've s'ved ya too, b't 'll ya ev'r do 's c'ngr't'late y'rs'lf 'n pr'se y'rs'lf. S'me'ne n'ds t' t'ke ya d'wn a p'g."

"Su-…san," Tino mumbled weakly. He tried to sit up, but instead let out a gasp of agony and clutched his side, falling back against the wall. Berwald turned to his fallen friend for just a second, then realized his mistake. He turned back to see Denmark's dagger, inches from his face, frozen in a foot thick wall of ice that reached from wall to wall, ceiling to floor.

"What in the name of Helheim?!" Matthias' shouting sounded far and dull through the ice. Behind him, Lukas had put Emil back in his own seat and turned him away from the fight. He'd taken a few steps forward, then cast a spell, causing the ice-wall to appear just in time to save Sweden.

"Go," Nor spoke quietly, but his voice rang clear on the other side of the ice, "Take care of Fin." I wish you luck in your venture, he added in thought only. The Swede nodded once in thanks, scooped up Finland with tender delicacy, and ran out the door into the night.

"TRAITOR!" Denmark raged, abandoning his trapped dagger, "It's bad enough that you never do anything to help me when Ber acts like that, but this time you actually helped him?!" He stormed towards him until their noses nearly touched. Lukas returned his scathing death-glare with his usual look of indifference.

"Are you going to hurt me?" his voice was flat and emotionless. Still, the question stunned Den more than any blow could. "Because if you are, then we need to go somewhere else so Emil doesn't have to see. Or perhaps you forgot that your child brother was here, watching you try to kill his family; hearing you threaten and insult his brothers; hoping that he doesn't get hurt by a stray attack or a piece of debris." Matthias took a step back from the Nord as he rolled up his sleeve to show a large bruise forming on his elbow. Blood beaded out of scrapes that trailed halfway up his upper arm.

"I… That's not…" Denmark stumbled over his words, failing to defend himself.

"That's not your fault?" Norway finished, each word cutting through Matthias, "But it never is your fault, is it? Because a god doesn't have faults, does he? But you do. You're crass, arrogant, pig-headed, hot-tempered, abrasive, hurtful, and selfish. You're oblivious to other's needs and as a result you drive others away with your loud, pompous attitude. And you still don't understand why you can't make people stay." Tears began to fill Den's eyes. He started to feel every blow Berwald had landed. The pain caused his knees to buckle, his head to throb. He closed his eyes tightly and cradled his head in his hands. When he finally looked back up, Lukas was inches away from his face, staring into his soul with his glassy glare.

"You're afraid of being alone," he stated softly, "You dread the very thought. You try to make yourself an idol in others eyes so they'll cling to you; when in reality it's you who cling to us. You are not a god, you are not our hero, and you are definitely not our leader." Lukas paused for what felt like an eternity to the Dane. He wanted to scream and punch something and cry and hide all at once, but he couldn't look away from Norway's dull blue eyes.

"But," Nor finally continued, his tone still completely unreadable, "There was once a time when we were all friends, you, me, Tino, and Berwald, and we swore to be friends until Jormungandr destroys the Yggdrasil and the world is consumed in the fires of Ragnarok. In those days, we were a true family. Tell me, has this constant god-act made you happy? Or has it made you increasingly more terrified that one day we would all leave you, alone, forever?" Denmark's breathing was shaky and uneven. Tears and blood alike streamed down his face.

"I…," he said between sobs, "I'm sorry…Lukas. You're right…please…please don't…leave me…alone. I'd…Luke, I'd die if you left, too!" He scoured Nor's expression, searching desperately for any sign of forgiveness. Very slowly, Lukas raised his hands to Matthias' face. Cradling his head, he began to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"I could never leave you," he whispered. This time, Matthias could feel the warmth in his voice. He released a sigh of relief and fell forward into Norway, enveloping him in a hug. Norway sat there, still as a statue, but allowed Den to cling to him and cry his heart out. Just having his shoulder to cry on, just having someone to hold was enough. He felt Nor's fingers caress his unruly hair, his lips lightly kiss the top of his head. Lukas stood, holding his hand out to Matthias to help him up. He took it without hesitation.

"I'm so sorry, Lukas," he began, but Norway cut him off.

"Don't apologise to me," his voice returned to neutral, "I'm not upset with you anymore. But…" he gestured over to the chair that faced the wall. Den's heart dropped once more as he remembered all the times he'd acted monstrously in front of the boy, all the times he'd stolen his glory away in the name of his own insecurity. He walked cautiously towards the chair, careful to not startle the little nation. Once he was able to see him, his heart broke into pieces.

There sat Emil with his feet up in the chair and hands covering his ears. His head was hidden behind his knees. His whole body trembled as he cried silent tears. The poor child couldn't have been more than eight years old, physically. Even in terms of nations, he was still so young and innocent of the world's hardships. If Matthias had destroyed that so early, he'd never forgive himself.

"Emil?" he said softly, "It's okay to open your eyes now." Iceland shook his head. Den tried to caress his hair like Nor had done for him, but he flinched away, cowering deeper into his little protective bubble.

"Emil, please listen to me," Denmark begged, "I'm sorry for scaring you and for hurting Ber. I'm sorry for never giving you enough credit because you're an amazing fighter and I see it every day. You're gonna grow up to be one strong little nation. Stronger than me even. I know I messed up big-time with you and if you decide you hate me, then I guess I deserve it. But please forgive me, cause right now I really need your help to become a better brother." Ice's tear-filled violet eyes shimmered from the crack between his knees. "I can't do this without you, little brother. I can't do anything without you." Den smiled sheepishly. He held his arms out open to Iceland, who continued to stare at him. The longest few seconds of Matthias' life passed before Emil slowly stood up from his seat and hung his little arms around his brother's neck. Den picked him up with a laugh and spun him around. The little nation smiled, until he looked around the room.

"Where's Berwald and Tino?" he asked innocently.

"Uh," Matthias wasn't really sure how to answer that, "Well, Emil, they decided to move out. We might not see them again for a little bit. But I'll do my best to apologise to them the next time we see them, okay?" Iceland nodded, not fully understanding what that all meant. But if his big brother was really going to work hard to change, he was sure his other brothers would come back. Then, they could be a truly happy family.