Hey guys and gals, CheeseCakeKitty15 here, back again with another Hetalia story! This little idea has actually been on my mind for quite a while and, when I literally spent hours searching the internet to see if this has already been done, was unsuccessful in my findings. So, I decided that I would try to give it shot and I hope you enjoy it!
Also, I think I should say before we begin that I'm not going to try and do any (primarily Sweden's) accents because likelihood is that I'll just end up messing them up and unintentionally offending everyone.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. If I did, the Nordics would get more screen time together.
Without further ado, let's get on with the story!
Norway couldn't comprehend what was happening in front of him. He hoped that this was just a horrific nightmare and that he would wake up soon, but no. Everything was all too real.
He briefly glanced over towards Sweden, Finland and Iceland, all of which looked just as shocked and horrified as he felt. The youngest Nordic had one hand over his eyes which he kept peering over every couple of seconds, whilst the other two were paralyzed with shock, their eyes wide and pupils shrunken.
This was supposed to be nothing more than a fun and simple night out which would be spent by drinking and laughing, just like they would in the old days. Nothing was meant to go wrong. But of course, something did, in the worst way possible. Being ambushed by a huge group of men with knives and guns in dark hoods was not fun nor simple. It came completely out of nowhere and nobody knew how to react.
It was Denmark who acted first to the sudden attack. He instantly grabbed his axe from inside his coat and begun to rapidly swing it with such speed and precision that it was hard to keep up. "Don't worry guys!" he told them in a low growl, eyes sharp and menacing, "I've got this. Stay here and don't move".
No matter how many of them he sliced down, more kept emerging from the undergrowth. The loud pants that the nation was making got mixed with enraged shouts and booming gunshots. It was obvious that he was getting tired, and therefore a lot less precise and alert. However, he kept up the effort whilst his family could do nothing but stare in terror from only a few meters away.
In a strange way, it was kind of beautiful. The Dane was like a graceful dancer, his bloodied axe a satin ribbon which twirled around him as his fellow dancers rose and fell in all different directions. Yet at the same time, it was frightening, knowing that their usually happy and upbeat friend possessed such power and formidability that only few had seen. That dormant spark which lied within him for so long had finally been released, and it was here to stay.
Norway wanted so desperately to scream, to jump into the battle and wrap his arms round Denmark's waist and pull him away from the action, scolding him for being so reckless. If he got seriously injured or something even worse, he knew that he would never be able to forgive himself. They were always supposed to fight alongside each other, they were family. They were not supposed to watch as one of their own gained more and more cuts but the second.
Suddenly, an immeasurably loud round of shots rang through the forest, making all nations present cover their ears desperately and clamp their eyes shut. Smoke was appearing from every direction as bullets sliced through it instantaneously. This onslaught lasted about fifteen seconds before dying down and by then, all the hooded men had disappeared. In front of them now, only Denmark stood, shaking, his eyes wide and frozen.
Without warning, his legs gave and he slumped over to the side with a loud thud. The other Nordics immediately rushed forward, Norway managing to catch him in his arms. Upon turning him over, he nearly openly wept. There was a massive gash on the older man, stretching from the base of his neck to his abdomen, which was deep and oozing with blood continuously. Bullet holes also dotted his shoulders and upper chest, deep and red. Many other wounds lined his body too; on his face, his hands, his chest, everywhere. His eyes were glassy, yet a small smile adorned his face amidst the cuts.
"Denmark!" Norway almost yelled, shaking his fallen brother. He briefly shot a worried glance toward Finland, who was choking out muffled sobs with his scarf, "Fin, call an ambulance. We need to get help as soon as possible." The other nation nodded, grabbed his phone from his pocket and did as he was told. Finland vigorously pressed the green button and turned around so he could make the call.
Norway turned his attention back to Denmark, who was serenely staring at the sky with a dazed expression on his face. He didn't seem to be aware of anything much other than the hair-clip adorned nation's gentle rocks back and forth to rouse him. "Den…" he spoke in a soft voice, gripping the other boy's hand, "Don't worry, Finland is calling an ambulance. Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere…" The spiky-haired nation responded dreamily, "Now stop crying, I'm gonna be fine." He reached up a shaky hand and gently brushed his thumb across his brother's face to wipe away his glittery tears. Norway hadn't even realised it himself, now embarrassed of showing his great concern. It wouldn't help at all, and was, if anything, just making the situation worse. He leaned down and enveloped his brother in a hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Nearby, Iceland had his face in his hands, inconsolable, whilst Sweden slowly rubbed circles onto his back to calm him down, keeping a watchful eye of his 'wife'.
Denmark started to feel the grasps of unconsciousness beginning to take him, so he put a hand on Norway's back to get his attention. The other nation gazed at his wounded friend, who he could tell was slowly passing out from the unstoppable blood loss. His eyelids were drooping and his hand was getting limper in his own. "What is it Denmark?" Norway asked quietly, "C'mon, try and stay awake for me, ok? The ambulance will get here any minute now."
"I love you Norge…" The delirious man replied, closing his eyes, "I love all of you. Finland, Iceland, even Sweden, though he probably hates me…" the Dane laughed a little then, "Make sure everyone is safe…and happ…"
Norway could yet again just helplessly watch as Denmark finally gave in to the darkness. He pulled the bloodied man closer to his chest and cradled him in his arms, whispering words of comfort to his brother's senseless form. He almost looked peaceful like that: eyes closed, mouth ever so slightly agape, without the usually angry or over-enthusiastic expression. They could have stayed like that for hours, the only noise being Iceland's quiet cries in the background.
Soon after, the ambulance came and took Denmark away, leaving the remaining Nordics in the dust to do nothing but pray that he would be alright. Just as he said he would be.
So, there we have it guys and gals, there is the first chapter of our story! I'm going to put the next part up as soon as I upload this one, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading and I will see you next chapter! Ciao!