Denmark x Fem!Sweden: I am the King!

Do you see that pathetic heap on the couch? That thing that seemed to have forgotten what bathing and shaving means?

Ja, that would be me, Matthias Andersen.

I am not like this, usually. I mean, this is definitely not me.

In the normal reality, I'm dashing, and confident, my hair slicked up with well-chosen hair products that makes me look dangerous but attractive. My clothes are top-notch fashion choices and my grades in the university are one of the best in the department.

My apartment, the one I'm in right now? The curtains are drawn; the walls glow with the light from the television, boxes and scraps of pizzas, ice cream tubs, and beer bottles littered the floor and tables.

That's not my real apartment. The one that's mine is usually so pristine and orderly that my housemate Emil says my boisterous personality doesn't suit my immaculate residence.

So, I just wanted to clarify again, this is not the real me. That's because I'm sick right now. It's the flu or something. At least I'm pretty sure I'm sick. That's the only possible reason I'm running off all allowed absences in my classes and been holed up in the apartment for the past week. It's the only reason I have turned my phone off and gotten off the couch to use the toilet or to get the food from the delivery guy.

How long does this flu last anyway? Two weeks, a month? Mine started a week ago. You know, my alarm clock sounded just like always, but instead of getting up, I threw it at the wall and smashed it to kingdom come. Not to mention, I had the inkling tendency to grab my grandfather's battle axe and just about wreck my housing. Stupid clock, stupid phone, stupid TV.

I was about to go back to sleep when the intercom chimed, someone is at the door and I'm pretty sure Emil was staying over at his girlfriend Lena's house. The door started pounding with knocks.

"Fich dig."

I was about to turn over and ignore the banging when it became louder and the voice I don't want to hear yelled from outside.

"Matthias! I know you're in there! Avaa helvetin ovi!"

Shit! That's my sister Tina. And you know she's pissed off when she starts spouting Finnish junk. We've grown up as siblings even if she's technically my cousin. That's because my adorable mother just went and adopted that 'cute' orphaned girl.

"Matthias!" Where the fuck in that is 'cute'?

I bury my head in the white pillow that I have been hugging for the past few days. I took a deep breath. It smelled like cinnamon and mint, crisp, clean and addictive. I pull it closer, not because it smells like HER, but to block out the heavy banging at the door.

"I'm calling the police Matthias Andersen! I'm dialing now!"

Being with her for the past 18 years made me sure that she's not joking around. Sighing, I force myself to get up and walk to the door. I took one sluggish step at a time on my seriously stiff legs. Fuckin' flu.

I open the door and brace myself for my sister's wrath. One thing about her is that no matter how small she looked, she has the strength of an ox. I blinked at her and saw her holding her phone to her ear with one small hand. Her light blonde hair curled over her face, in her pixie like hairstyle. She wore a light apricot turtleneck and a plaid skirt. But all the cuteness is overwhelmed by the astonishing glare she's directing at me. Damn doorman,he should die for letting the death squad get to me.

Behind my sister Tina stood an appropriately sorry-looking Emil. I forgive you doorman. It is Emil Steilsson who must die.

"What the hell happened to you?" She yells right at my face.

I told you, this is not the real me.

I don't answer her. I don't have the energy either way. I just leave them at the open door and sluggishly drag myself back to fall face-first into my couch.

Have I ever told you that I love you, couch? Well, I'll tell you now, I love you so much.

I don't have the will to raise my head, but I can feel them enter the apartment. I internally wince at the horror they're sure to feel at the sight of the damage I've done to the residence.

"Matthias? You're sick aren't you? Why didn't you call me earlier?"

"You should have told me, bror. I would have gone right back earlier if I had known, man."

I sighed. No matter how ferocious Tina is, she's still his sister. His heart ached at the concern in her voice. And it's not like he's used to asking Emil for help either. Emil was the younger one, it was always him who's come to him for help.

"I'm fine, Tina, Mil." I try to make my voice loud enough to be heard. "I just caught the flu."

She looked around the pizza boxes and the beer bottles, then her delicate brows went up.

"Not exactly what you'd call a sick man's diet, brother."

Emil laughed at her expression.

"Ja. It's more like what I drowned myself in when Lena got mad at me and ran away to her brother Yao's house."

I hit my face back to the couch with as much force as I could muster.

I felt them pause awkwardly.

"Oh, my God, you didn't?"

Emil started chuckling nervously.

"Surely not? This is Matthias we're talking about!"

Seriously hurt by the statement I jerk my face up and send him one of my specialty death glares.

Another awkward pause.

"What happened?" Tina seated herself on the tiny space left by my body hunched into the couch. "Talk to me."

"It finally happened, like you said it would."

"What did?"

"What you're wishing for all these years." I could hear that my voice was near tears. Seriously, me? Near tears? Damn. "I fell in love."

I look up at her. I expected sympathy, comfort, something that would tell me that everything will be alright. But no, of course not. One should not underestimate a sister's ability to wreck her brother's last hope. The pale little bitch is smiling, damn it, smiling in victory!?

Now, I cry. Damnation, she doesn't know anything. And I want to be comforted, damn it!

"She's marrying someone else, Tina. She didn't… she didn't want me, sis."

At first there was that glorious sympathy I was looking for, spreading on her face. And then there was nothing but determination. It was the same one-minded look I see on her when she knows she'll win through her own. It was the look she's got when she shot that final round on the mile-long shot in the last event of the rifle marksmanship tournament. And it was the look that have always gotten him out of every trouble he's ever in.

I pity her, then I pity me. I wish it was that simple. That, I can let my sweet but poisonous little sister fix everything for me. But she's been married for the past 6 years, and I don't think she could understand the enormity of what I'm going through. Her love story was simple. Heck there wasn't even a story. She was transferred to an exclusive school because of her talent in marksmanship when she was just about to graduate from high school. And then there was this one Swedish senior who came up at her and told her bluntly. "You're going to be m' wife." Or something scandalous like that. She had it easy, why I just…died.

It's not as easy as threatening to snipe an antagonistic schoolmate. No. Not all the Super Glue in the world can piece my heart together again. Ah, wow, did I just turn poetic?

"I know what we should do." See? I know her. "You go and take a shower, then we go out."

"I can't, I have the flu." She glared at me with those eyes that are far too soft-looking for someone who can be called to have the eyes of a falcon. At least she always told me my eyes were like that of a lion. Hah, take that. Shit. I have to get up, huh?

Pouting heavily, I get up and do what she says. And like a four-year old, I grab my prize pillow and bring it to my room with me.

On my way to the bathroom, I think it all over. How my perfectly normal life got all wrong. Want to hear my sob story? Fine. It all started on a normal party night. If you don't know what university kids do during the weekends, you're a dweeb.

And that's where I met HER. The cause of all this drama.

Brigith Oxenstierna. I would actually like to have been able to call her a bitch by now. But at a single thought of her, my heart clenches and all I can picture is a gorgeous frickin' goddess.