Tap. Tap. Tap. So much noise. Tap. Tap. Tap. So much tedious arguing. Tap. Pointless. Tap. Unnecessary. Tap. Nerve-grating- And that was when the pen he had been tapping against his coffee mug had snapped in half. Not that anyone really paid any mind to it though, as they were all caught up in their own disagreements. The Kingdom of Norway had been sitting relatively quietly amongst all the fighting and bickering, his anger slowly building to the point where he was now on the verge of permanently silencing them all. No one had noticed this fact either, as Norway's expression hadn't changed at all. Well that, and the fact that they were still bickering like a group of children. He couldn't make out what any of them were yelling at each other, not that he really cared all that much. At least, he didn't care until he caught one single phrase that had been uttered by none other than France.
"Oh hon hon hon. Iceland seems easy enough to conquer, no? He'll become French territory in no time."
This one phrase is what caused something in the Nordic country to snap. All the anger that had been growing these past few hours, days, even weeks was coming forth, and it was uncontrollable and bloodthirsty. This specific type of anger had not been felt by him for quite some time. However, he knew it well. It was this very same bloodthirstiness he had felt long ago when he had invaded England as a viking, burning down the church and slaughtering all who were there. And it was this very same emotion that caused him to abruptly rise from his seat and slam both of his fists on the table with all of the strength within him. Now this is what effectively silenced everyone, aside from France who kept prattling on like the idiot he was, unaware of his impending doom.
"What was that France? It sounded a bit like a threat towards Iceland. Now tell me, did you or did you not just threaten him?" He asked, his voice oddly calm and quiet.
"So what if I did? It's not like he can defend himself anyw-" The Frenchman's reply cut short after he had turned to face the Norwegian who's eyes were nothing but rage.
France knew that look all too well. He too had been invaded by Norway and his viking crew once upon a time. The last time he had seen that much fury he had been rather savagely beaten by both Norway and Denmark, losing a large piece of land to them. Things were certainly looking bad for France, again. Especially since Norway had begun to slowly move towards him, and it appeared that no one was going to make a move to stop him. Naturally anyone would be afraid of a once peaceful nation with a violent viking past who had just exploded and gone on the war path.
Said nation had now reached his target looking murderous yet calm despite what he was about to do. He gripped the Frenchman by the collar of his shirt, hoisting him up to eye level in what seemed like an instant. Norway looked France dead in the eye, his deep blue orbs speaking of no mercy, only threats. But the thing was, these threats were not empty. Oh no, they were promises.
"You so much as lay a finger on him and I will slice you open, rip out your intestines, and then proceed to strangle you with them." He said dangerously, his voice but a low growl.
The fear for his life was clear in the others' eyes, causing a rush of adrenaline to course through the former viking's veins. He had to admit, he missed the thrill that came with watching as the enemy struggled. It was sick and twisted, yes. But he certainly was thinking that now. Vikings hadn't exactly been a clan of peacekeepers.
It was then that Denmark and Sweden shared a look, they both knew what would happen if one of them didn't step in. Thus, the Dane slowly approached the other, his tone of voice oddly calm and serious.
"Norge, let him go. Do you really want his blood on your hands? Do you honestly want to start another war over this? Just calm down and let him go. He didn't mean it."
Norway only glanced in Denmark's general direction a moment before turning back to the nearly dead France, tightening his grip.
"Norge!" Denmark threatened in an authoritative tone.
Norway reluctantly let him go, chuckling darkly.
"'Calm down? Let him go? He didn't mean it?' I don't believe you and your LIES!" He yelled in return, making a rather large hole in the wall with his right fist.
He was far beyond pissed off. So much so that he was almost emitting an aura of pure and utter rage that put even Russia to shame. All the other nations had long since fled, excluding the other four Nordics and England who was now tending to a collapsed France. Norway turned to Denmark and quickly moved to pin him against the wall.
"Don't think I won't do the same to you, if you choose to interfere. And I can assure you, the deed will be carried out with your own axe." The Norwegian whispered, scarily calm.
Even scarier yet, he smirked murderously before releasing the other. He then turned to leave, slamming the door behind him with so much force that it actually fell off of the hinges. Anyone within the building who met face to face with Norway would either immediately go in the other direction, or flatten themselves against the wall in order to avoid being in his path. Back in the meeting room, the remaining four Nordics shared a look. Between Finland and Iceland it was a look of both fear and confusion. But between Sweden and Denmark it was a look of understanding. They once again knew what was going to happen, the emotional downfall that would follow all of this.
Sweden nodded towards the door as if to say 'Go stop him before he hurts himself.' Which Denmark responded to with a brief nod as he turned to follow the poor, tortured soul. For he was the only one who truly knew how to calm him down, and that was exactly what he intended to do.