This is not my first story written but it's the first story I've put up here. Feed back would be really appreciated!

Kjet: Norway

Mikkel: Denmark

Emil: Iceland

Berwald: Finland

Tino: Finland

Darkness. That's all Norway saw, from behind the blindfold they put him in. He felt a cloth gag around his mouth, and ropes around his hands and legs. He was tied to something. He only wished to know what he had done to deserve this...

Norway woke up to stomping feet and a feeling of fear deep in his stomach.

"Anko. Anko!" Norway shook Denmark's shoulder, his voice hushed and hurried. "Anko, what's that noise?"

Denmark groaned, blinking awake. "Norge... what..?" he listened for a moment before sitting up. "Norge, take Ice and get under the bed."

"Unh..?" Iceland awoke at the sound of his name. "Big Brother..? Are they coming again?!" He clung to his brother. They had been chased around the towns repeatedly, and has only stopped tonight for rest.

"I don't know, Ice." Norway whispered, "get under the bed." He hurriedly pushed Iceland under the narrow opening between the bed and the floor, giving Denmark a scared glance before rolling in after him.

The door was thrown open right after Norway disappeared. They looked at the very alert Denmark, who was now holding a large axe threateningly.

The men seemed a bit intimidated. "Pardon the disturbance, sir..." a particularly short one that was pushed to the front said, "but... we're looking for someone." He held up a roughly sketched picture of Norway to Denmark's face, who sneered.

"No, I haven't seen or heard of a Goddamn..." he paused, looking at the name, "Lukas Bondevik! Now leave me in peace!" he growled, the hand on his axe twitching.

The group looked mildly offended, and one pushed to the front. "Wait..." he said suspiciously. "You're one of the sorry fools that ran with him!" he accused, holding a knife in front of Denmark's nose.

Denmark shook his head, "are you accusing me of dabbling in witchcraft?!" he shouted, looking scandalized.

A smirk appeared on one of the men's faces. "But, sir... we didn't tell you why we needed him." he said slyly

From under the bed, Norway's face turned white, and he suppressed the urge to whimper. He held Iceland close. He wouldn't be taken away from his brother. Not again.

Denmark swallowed, "well, I only assumed that's what you were arresting him for! Look at the man! He couldn't have done much else, could he?"

The men didn't look convinced. "So, does that mean you wouldn't mind if we... looked around? I mean, you obviously have nothing to hide. He may have broken in..."

Denmark reminded himself to thank Iceland for putting out the candle before they went to bed. Otherwise, the group would've seem that Denmark's face was as pale as a ghost's, and his hands were clenching the bedsheets desperately. "Y-Yes." he managed, stabling his voice. "I suppose that would be acceptable."

From under the bed, Norway was holding his brother tight, repeating a single phrase over and over in his head. Please don't look under the bed.

The men toppled over his dresser, which made Denmark growl in protest.

Please don't look under the bed.

They opened a separate room, flipping tables and destroying everything in sight.

Please don't look under the bed.

Finally, after several tense moments, "oi, you! Look under that disgusting mat!"

They looked under the bed.

So now, here he was, awaiting his fate. He didn't know how long they had kept him here. He has struggled, and been knocked out. He had only woken up a couple minutes ago, but already fear had set in, gripping him tightly and suffocating him.

He was scared, and there was no lighter way to put it. He was scared for himself, scared for Iceland, and scared for Denmark.

Norway knew they shouldn't have gone into the Swedish land. He knew that they were recognized by everyone there- not as friends, but as enemies.

He didn't want to fight his brother. He didn't, really. But he had been with the Dane too long to just abandon him.

He had tried desperately to rip off the bonds wrapped around his wrists, but to no avail. Then he had looked around, but the completely

"Get up, Petturi." a gruff voice commanded, kicking under his legs harshly.

Norway shakily got to his feet, struggling to say something. His ankles hadn't been bound, probably because they didn't want to carry him or something.

The man tied a rope around his waist, a grimace on his face, as if he would burning his fingers off if he were to touch Norway.

"Wh-What have I been convicted of…?" he mumbled, frowning.

"Treason." he grumbled.

Ah, that explains it… but his reaction was a bit…

"...and witchcraft."

Wh...What?! N-No!

"Walk." he commanded, with a growl.

Shakily, Norway took a couple steps, almost falling, and then steadying himself, leaving the small shed he had been housed in.

"Let's go, prisoner."

Norway nodded, following the gruff man holding the rope tied to him. Every step was painful. His head ached. And he was pretty sure he had broken his wrist from punching something (For the men could not be counted as humans in the Norwegian's mind) in the face.

But the thing that hurt most was his heart.

The Swede was one of his closest friends. He would've trusted him with his own life a few years ago. Now… he wouldn't have trusted the man to touch his little brother.

Slowly, they approached a hill, where timber was being piled into a spot at the top.

Several shapes were at the hill. Two were small, almost the size of children, but they were hunched down, so Norway assumed they were kneeling. Another two stood at their sides, both taller. Two shapes stood away from the rest, one slightly shorter than Norway himself and one even taller than Denmark.

As they got nearer, Norway could make out a sloppy mess of blond and a shivering, smaller head of what looked like white.

Denmark, and… Iceland?

Norway screamed, stopping in his tracks and falling to the ground. They… no. They couldn't!

"Norge?!"

"B-Big brother..?!"

"Get on your feet, scum!" The guard kicked him in the ribs, causing him to fall on his side in pain.

Denmark and Iceland lurched forward as if trying to shield him, but they were too far, and the chains around their wrists were yanked back.

"NOW!"

"N-No…"

"I'll kill you right here if you don't-!"

"...that's enough, Henrikki."

Norway stopped struggling abruptly, afraid to look up. "No…" he mumbled again. It couldn't be… not…

"Hello again, Kjetil Thomassen-"

"...don't." Denmark spoke up suddenly, lifting his head and glaring up at Sweden, "you don't have a right to say his name, you pig-headed-"

The guard beside him kicked him in the stomach, sending him down back onto the ground with a startled gasp.

"Stop." Sweden put a hand up, glaring at the guard. "Don't let him pass out. He needs to know what it feels like for one of his own to be killed." even in the misty, dim morning light, you could see the anticipation of revenge barely hidden in his eyes.

"Ber…" the smaller form walked over, revealing it to be a - very skinny - Finland. He put a shaky hand on Berwald's shoulder. "Are you sure we should..?"

"Yes." he said immediately, "of course. Do you remember all that he's done to us, Tino?"

Finland reluctantly looked down, not saying anything more.

Norway was shaking uncontrollably. If the Swede was this revenge-driven, he wouldn't be getting out of it easily.

"Kjet, it'll be okay…" Denmark muttered from his spot on the ground, wheezing, "don't panic…"

Holding onto those words, he sat up, looking around. He was still tied up, Denmark and Iceland - Oh, poor Iceland, he was already crying - were still kneeling on the hill, and Berwald was still glaring at him, a crazed look in his eyes. It won't be okay. It's impossible.

"B-Big bror…?" Iceland mumbled, wiping his tears with his bound hand. "Wh-What's going to happen…?"

"Nothing, Emil." Norway said sharply, getting to his feet, "everything will be alright. After this we'll go have another adventure…" He glanced at Denmark, his eyes pleading the same two sets of words over and over again. Please take care of Emil. I love you. Please take care of Emil. I love you. Please take care of Emil.

"I love you." Denmark mumbled pathetically, already in a sitting position. "And I promise."

Norway nodded again. You could tell a lot about a person from just their eyes- Denmark knew that. "And I you, Mikkel." he said hoarsely.

And then he was brought up- pulled onto the wicked-looking pile of drywood, and the fire was lit.

Denmark had shielded Iceland's eyes, shaking violently. It was… it was terrifying, the sensation of waiting.

The fire had started out slow. Norway had felt the heat below him, but nothing else. It got warmer, and warmer, the feeling of doom slowly seeping into him. He hadn't been aware of his body before, but he knew now what was going on, why his face had heated up in lines along his face.

He was crying.

Kjetil Thomassen, personification of Norway, was crying. He hadn't cried for so long. It felt almost… relieving. He looked out on the hill, to his family.

Denmark. Mikkel. Mikkel Densen. The one he was close to, in more ways than one.

Iceland. Emil. Emil Steilsson. His baby brother that he had raised, had kept close through thick and thin. His Baby Brother.

Finland. Tino. Tino Väinämöinen. Berwald's close friend, always the outsider but the one who had kept them together.

Finally, for he knew that the man still had to be his family, Sweden. Berwald. Berwald Oxenstierna. Denmark's competitor and best friend, Emil's brother, Finland's lover- one of Norway's best friends. He could tell the man was starting to slip out of his daze. His face had gone slack, his cheeks were pale, and he kept glancing at Finland in horror, finally realizing how skinny the man was.

Then, he was burning. He was burning and the tears had stopped, replaced by agonized screams as he felt his bound arms being wrapped in flames, his clothes and skin melting off his frame. He wanted to die. He wanted to die.

"BERWALD FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Denmark screamed, lurching. He had covered the youngest Nordic's ears at this point, and Iceland was curled into a ball in front of him, "ISN'T THIS ENOUGH?!"

Norway caught a glimpse of his friend's face, and it was grim. He… didn't want to do it. He didn't want to leave him there.

"P-Please…" Norway sobbed, a fresh bout of tears emerging, "Please, Ber, please…"

Then he had walked away. He had pulled the Finnish man away from the scene, kicking and screaming.

Finland had finally broken. He had started screaming and crying, clinging to the ground and begging to be left alone. Berwald had to drag him, forcefully.

"B-Berwald, please, please…"

The Swedish man looked up at his friend for one last time before shaking his head and looking down, slowly stalking away from the hill.

And finally, finally, Norway felt the final push of unconsciousness as he let out one last anguished scream.

"Kjet! Kjet!"

"Augh-!" Kjetil sat upright in his bed, shaking violently. He had had the dream again.

"Hey…" a gentle hand rubbed his back, while another hugged him around the middle, "it's alright, you're in bed, at home, and nothing's wrong, okay?"

He felt himself cling to and sob into a red shirt, curling into a tight, shaking ball.

"Kjetil, are you okay..?"

That was Ice. He looked up slowly, wiping his eyes, "y-yes, I-I'm f-fine…." he said shakily, still laying on Mikkel's chest.

"Obviously not…"

And there was the Fin. Of course he was the one to point out something plain in sight.

Still thoroughly shaken, the short man shook his head, "really, I am…"

"You were screaming, Big Brother…"

He nodded, feeling Mikkel gently wrap his arms around him. "I know, I know… i-it was just a small nightmare… the burning…" he mumbled this last part so that only Mikkel could hear, and he felt the grip on him tighten in consolation.

"God, Kjet, you're still..?"

"Yes…."

The two still standing looked at each other in confusion, but knew not to pry. Neither of them… remembered. It had been so traumatic for Tino that his mind had forced itself to forget, and Emil was cast under some kind of spell by Kjetil afterwards.

"What's all th's yelling..?"

Kjetil froze. Oh thank God. He was still there, still sane, and he still loved all of them. They were a family.

Mikkel frowned, "hey, Tino..? Emil? Can you… leave us three alone for a moment?"

Emil looked like he wanted to protest, but Tino nodded, dragging the short boy out of the room. The door was closed behind them, and the three were alone.

Mikkel sighed, and all he had to say were two words. "The burning…."

Kjetil nodded in affirmation and Berwald immediately frowned. He sat on the edge of Kjetil's bed, rubbing his temples. "Didn'... the nightm'res stop a long t'me ago..?"

Kjetil sniffed, "I… I… they might have n-not…"

"Kjet, why didn't you tell us..?" Mikkel asked gently, frowning, "we care about things like this…"

"I didn't want you to worry…" he mumbled, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not weak. I can handle it myself."

Mikkel and Berwald exchanged glances, and finally, after an intense minute of silence, Mikkel spoke up.

"Just because this happens doesn't mean you're weak."

And then Kjetil was crying again, crying his heart out. And it wasn't pain, or fear, but relief. Relief that no one around him wanted to hurt him, that his friends, his brother, his… his Berwald wasn't trying to kill him.

And as Kjetil finished his pitiful sobs, as he slipped into a world of dreamless sleep, he heard the voices of Berwald and Mikkel, in a small mumble.

"Love you, Kjet…"

"I hope y' don't have anoth'r dream like tha'..."

-END-