Hello, and welcome to this story "You're Mine." I own nothing in this, except for the story. I was bored one day and decided to take up fanfiction again.. So yeah, not too much hate, but r&r, and don't forget to enjoy it!

His daily routine with Sweden had been as always, they meeting up in some strange place by the weird sense of humor fate had on them. At first, their conversation would be quite pleasant, they chatting calmly and asking each other how their countries where, exchanging some polite information with each other, they never did anything out of the ordinary, and Denmark hated it.

Their conversation would always escalate into something more, it could be some political or economical issue they couldn't agree on. Weapons would be drawn, and blood would taint the ground they had previously been sitting on, talking like friends were supposed to do. That was the part Denmark loved, it made him feel special, needed and close to the Swede. The other man would rarely show emotion, neither bruise up, nor would he draw his weapon against anyone else. But when Denmark played with his nerves, and made him react like he did, he felt so much better.

Even thought he always had to patch himself up in his lone home, bandages covering his whole body, blood that tainted his floor as he dragged himself home from a lost fight, or when he skipped over the wooden planks those days the brawl had gone quite well for his part.

But his body never felt fulfilled with just this. Their chats didn't happen too often as Denmark wished. He held too much pride to ask the Swede over, and said partner was just as stubborn.

Denmark was wandering in the woods, with his axe slung over his shoulder; his crystal blue eyes searching for a good tree he could bring home that could start the fire he wanted to make. When he found a good one, and was about to swung his axe, his eyes caught something that moved towards him from the corner of his eyes.

Out of pure reflexes, he swung around and held his axe out in front of him, eyes glaring at whoever it was, challenging the human to come closer.

"Sweden?"

He raised an eyebrow when the human came closer, why was he there, out of all places?

His eyes widened when he saw that the man was moving really strange, like he could barely hold himself up. His body was crouching, arms holding his torso, and the snow behind him was tainted red by the blood that was falling from the Swede.

Panicked, Denmark dropped his axe, rushed forward to support the wounded man, arms around his shoulders to keep him upwards, as the Swede fell into his chest, breath coming out ragged and short, uneven. "Shit, Sweden, what happened!?"

But no reply came as the man shut his eyes, fainting in the arms of his enemy, and Denmark could do nothing else than to lift the man up bridal style, and carry him back home, his axe slung behind his back as he began to wander home with the wounded man, a worried look crossed over his face.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" A relieved Dane was looking down at the Swede that was currently resting in his bed, he had been out for three days, showing no sign of getting better, nor improving his fever. But when he finally opened his eyes, the Dane wanted to leap outside and scream, but he kept calm and sat on the edge of the bed, just being there for the Swede.

"Sore."

Sweden had never been the one to talk too much, but Denmark was so relieved to hear the Swede talk again that he sighed in relief.

"What happened? Your whole torso was ripped to shreds."

Since Sweden was a country, he healed a lot faster than a normal human, his wounds had already been closing up, but they were still fragile, and if he moved too much, they could re-open again.

"A bear attacked me."

Denmark knew that was just plain bullshit, but he couldn't say against him, he would probably become angry and disappear for a long while again, and he didn't want that to happen again. During the Swede's absence, he had learned just how much he wanted, needed the other man. Without him, Denmark was nothing.

Sweden began to sit up, but Denmark tried to push him back in the bed again. "Don't move too much! You need to think about you wo-" But he never had the chance to end that sentence, Sweden had grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him close for a hard and passionate kiss. The Dane was shocked, but eagerly replied to it, his brain lost in the moment that he barely registered that the kiss had ended, and the Swede left the house, without saying goodbye..

The snow had begun to fall again, covering up the blood that had once been in the snow, making it pure again, that white glowing snow that seemed so innocent, that hid everything underneath it, not matter how evil it was.

But this time, Denmark was wandering around in the snow, the cold water crunching under his feet as he let them wander freely in the silent atmosphere. It was so peaceful and untouched, it calmed ones nerves, but it just made Denmark even more worried. It was never calm inside the forest, it was the calm before a storm, he knew something was bound to happen, he could feel it in the air.

"Why are you here, once again? When I know it's not to thank me."

Turing around to face the person that had tried to sneak upon him from behind, but he had felt the presence of him long before he even got closer, Denmark just wanted to see what he was going to do. The Swede did not answer, just looked at him with his steel stick firmly in his hands. The Dane was not too late to grip his axe and put it up in front of him, blade glistering in the sunrays that made their way between the snows covered branches. It had been many years since Sweden had rose his weapon against Denmark, usually it was Denmark who used his blade to hurt the other country, loving to see the man covered in his own blood. But nowadays, they usually fought with their fists.

"Fight me."

And Denmark wasn't late to reply to the request when blade met steel, clashing together in a wild dance. When the Swede let his stick forth to harm the Dane, said man wouldn't be late to counter it with the blade of his axe, sending sparks to fly up in the air around them.

As they both got too into the fight, they began to fight for real. All the emotions they had been building up where released when they got more into the fight. Denmark's hidden feelings, how angry he was at himself for hiding them, and how painfully dense the Swede was. But the Dane still didn't know what trigged this fight, why had Sweden sought him out, and why was he so angry at him? Barely no time to think, he had to avoid the steel that whined past his head by just a millimeter, jumping to his right and pushed the other away with his blade, slashing up a large wound on the side of the other, blood oozing out, painting the previous so pure snow red, on the exact same spot the man had bleed on before.

The Swede got a perfect his on his cheek, sending him flying backwards, his back connecting with a tree, sending a wave of pain right thorough his body. Gasping with pain, he looked up at the Swede, who was breathing heavily, hand trying to cover his bleeding wound, without any success. Blinded by anger, the Dane threw his axe, an unexpected move for the Sweden apparently, since he didn't have a chance to get away from it, axe connecting hard with his chest, ripping up his whole torso, blood splashing down on the snow, as the Swede fell down on his back, barely breathing.

Collecting himself, the Dane dragged himself forward until he was at the Swede, as he sat down on his legs. Bringing up daggerd from his boots, he pierced the hands that the Swede had lay on either side of his face. The scream that met the Danes ears where heartbreaking, but he knew the Swede would run away from him if he didn't stop him.

Tears where falling from the Danes eyes as he looked down on Sweden, his former friend, his enemy, his secret love..

"Why?"

He whispered, and the Swede did not answer, only looked away. Denmark gripped his chin, forcing those beautiful eyes to look at his own hues. "Why would you do this? Why now?"

Sweden only smiled, trying to lift his hands, that only caused more blood to taint the ground. "You've become stronger once again, Mathias."

Sweden never said his human name, only called him Denmark, that made even more tears fall down, he tried to wipe them away, but blood replaced their place on his face, Sweden's blood. Shaking his head and Sweden's also. "No, what is the reason? Sweden?.. BERWALD?"

No answer, the breathing had almost stopped, the Dane stood up in panic, was he dead? He looked around, maybe some doctor would miraculously jump up and help his Berwald? But nothing, not even the birds could be heard.

He began to run back, running into his house, calling a doctor, giving the instructions, before he forcefully ended the call, and ran back to the place he knew the Swede was lying.

But he found nothing, only the tainted snow was left, and so the Dane broke down, for the first time in many years, he lost it all.

"Denmark, you should go out." Norway stood next to the drunk Dane, that was chugging down his 20, or was it 25th? Beer, he lost count long ago, but he didn't care, his Sweden was forever gone, and it was all his fault. Why did he always lose his temper in the worst situations possible?

"No."

Norway sighed angrily and rubbed his temples, getting tired of the Danes behavior. He tugged at his arm, but was met with a much stronger and larger hand that punched him away, glaring at him with drunken eyes from where he was.

"Fine, sit here and rot, see if I care!"

And then Norway was out of his door, and Denmark didn't even notice the single tear that fell from the Norwegian mans eye.

The beer couldn't conquer his thirst, and nor could he get drunk from it anymore. He had abandoned the beer for some rum, vodka and tequila, drinking bottle after bottle until he blacked out somewhere, and then woke up in a place he couldn't remember. Sometimes, people he knew, but forgotten what their names were, would sleep next to him, as he pretended to sleep, just so they would disappear when he once again woke up.

Every time he went outside to buy some food, or just more alcohol, he would always look over the horde of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar blonde hair and tall appearance, but it never showed. Every time someone blonde passed him, false hope would lit inside of him, but it would die out quickly as it had appear, when he noticed it wasn't the one he had been looking for.

It took him years to get over it, and when he had done that, he had begun to live his life normally. He still drank during the nights so he would asleep without any dreams, the memory of him ripping the Swede apart to pieces where still haunting his mind and his dreams, he could wake up in the middle of the night, regretting everything he had done to the man.

Norway had come back, helped him get back on his feet, and he was grateful for that. He knew Norway loved him, but said man also knew that Denmark could never return those feelings, but he could live with that, as long he could be with Denmark. They would just hang out, Denmark would sometimes chat wildly, and Norway would listen, and sometimes adding a sarcastic remark, but would still smile when the Dane couldn't see.

Norway never took up the issue with Sweden, he had once mention it, telling the Dane that Sweden could be alive, but the Dane had just gone insane, and Norway had a scar leaping over his back to prove that Denmark did not want to talk about Sweden. He hadn't meant to scar the boy, but he couldn't stop himself, and he still had a hard time forgiving himself for that.

He still carried his axe with him everywhere; he loved his weapon too much to get rid of it. He had gotten rid of the thought that it was this weapon that had hurt his beloved Swede, and he continued to practice with it against Norway every now and then, but they never really got too into it, Norway too afraid that Denmarks crazy side would take over, and Denmark too afraid he would go insane again.

"And Iceland will come over by tomorrow, so I will clean up the mansion…." And then Denmark stopped listening to Norway, they had gone out to shop some groceries for Icelands arrival tomorrow. They had been going around in the city for quite a while, Norway saying he needed something Denmark couldn't remember, but he guessed it was just a trick to get Denmark out of the house, since Norway hadn't bought anything, but he had been in almost every store.

Growing tired of walking around and listening to whatever Norway was saying, he looked over the horde of people, trying to catch a glimpse of someone he knew so he could get away for a while, when he saw it.

A tall man, with blonde hair and glasses, with a proud posture.

Denmarks heart stopped and he felt all the blood in his veins freeze. There he was, the man he thought he had killed, alive. He was leaning against a building, looking like he was waiting for someone. Norway hadn't noticed that Denmark had stopped, and continued to walk away, while the Dane couldn't rip his eyes from the man.

He wanted to go forth, shake the man and ask him where he had been, but someone beat him to it. And the sight that came with that broke everything inside of Denmark.

Finland had walked up to the Swede, and was hugging him close, with a child in his hand, that were also hugging the tall man. Finland and Sealand, together with Sweden? He had to stop himself from laughing hysterically at the sight, which bother him on so many levels, and made his blood boil. Now when he had found his Swede, he was never going to lose him, again.

Denmark followed them from a safe distance, but made sure to not be seen. Finland where mostly talking, with Sweden nodding and saying his 'yes' and 'no' now and then. He looked like he wasn't really into the conversation, but just answered to be polite. Looking much like himself and Norway when they were walking like that.

When the Swede said something to the Fin, they split up, and Denmark saw his chance. Sweden walking into a clothing store, looking around for some clothes to buy, and Denmark sneaked around, earning himself a quite few glances from the people around them, which he just shrugged off.

When the Swede found what he was looking for, and went into the changing room, Denmark followed. When he was taking his shirt off, Denmark sneaked into the room, and caught the man by his throat, flushing up against his back, leaning in and whispered into his ear.

"I found you"

Sweden turned around, with a shocked expression, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing, hands touching the others cheek, not caring that the others cold hands where around his throat.

"You're alive."

Denmark glared at the man, pushing him up against the wall, growling under his breath, how dared he?

"No, I should be saying that, I saw you die, I saw you take your last breath, it is I who shall question you, why are you alive? You should be dead, you should…"

The Swede wrapped his arms around the Dane, leaving him speechless, not knowing what to say or what to reply, but he let go of the throat, returning the gesture with a little more pressure than was needed, in case the Swede was just a dream, and he was about to wake up.

"Why are you even here, why are you with him? Why didn't you come back for me, you made me believe that you where dead, all these years."

Fingers gripping the other's shoulders painfully, making Sweden look at him calmly.

"I am here now, with you."

Forcing the Swedes head up, to let their lips clash in a needy, passionate and sloppy kiss neither of them wanted to break, but had to, when they heard a knock on the door. Sweden gathered the clothes, and put on his shirt. But before they walked out of the room, Denmark grabbed the front of Swedens shirt, pulling him closer, and looked at him right into his eyes.

"You're mine."

And Not even death could tear them apart again.