Bloodgames
He couldn't see anything.
Stumbling, he fumbled for his sword, trying to find it before another crushing blow was dealt to his head. But the ringing in his ears was the least of his problems as he narrowly avoided his hand being chopped off, only leaving a gash across his wrist. He tried to open an eyelid, but it hurt, and everything was red. No shape, just red.
His own blood.
Wrapping his fingers finally around the familiar hilt, he raised it. Charging aimlessly forward, crying out, he hit something soft, and by the stuttering gasps he heard, he had reached his target.
Denmark kicked Sweden off of him, ignoring the stab wound in his side, and brought his axe down, missing slightly. He scoffed and tried again, but the smaller nation managed to scramble out of the way.
Denmark knew that he had blinded him.
So he quietly, silently, tried to get close enough to finish this battle. He tackled Sweden suddenly, grabbing him by the scalp and ripping out a chunk of bloodstained blonde hair before they both plummeted towards the ground. Flinging the other nation's weapon aside before tossing away his own, he tore at the Swede's face. And in response, the lesser grabbed Denmark, leaving his own marks and blows.
"Stop it!" Finland was crying now, weakly trying to pull Denmark off of his friend. But his hands shook and he feared the leader of their kingdom would turn on him if he wasn't careful. "Stop it! Don't kill him! Not again!"
And Denmark turned, baring his teeth at Finland, snarling.
"You don't tell me what to do!"
Just as Finland had feared, Denmark had turned his attention towards him now, giving Sweden one last good kick before advancing on the small region. Not even a country, he had no power, and backed up, shaking his head in fear of what Denmark would do to him. He didn't want to be reduced to lying still on the floor, as Sweden now was, not even moving.
Finland could not retreat anymore, his back to the wall, and so Denmark grabbed him, choking him, until he was brought down by Sweden again. Barely conscious, fueled only now by adrenaline and the knowledge that Denmark would probably hurt whoever else remained in the room, he bit his neck, bringing them both back to the ground with a crash.
"You!" he glared, looking around for his axe, flashing his fangs again.
Sweden hissed back, blood in his teeth, but made no advance, placing himself between Denmark and Finland.
"Go!" Denmark roared, slamming a fist into the wall. "Before I change my mind!"
Sweden panted, trying to catch his breath, and searched around for Finland's hand, interlocking his fingers and gripping tightly.
"Eyes," he whispered, still unable to see, and he let go, the loss of blood too much for him to handle, falling to his knees before completely passing out in front of the region he once controlled.
Quickly, Finland propped Sweden upright, half carrying, half dragging him down the corridor as fast as he could, trying to find somewhere safe before Denmark decided to seek revenge yet again.
He passed Norway.
Norway made no move to help him, he just gave them a nod, Iceland clutched against his chest. Iceland was going through a ravaging famine and Norway spent all the time he could keeping the boy's mind off the intense hunger. He realized how bad it really was when he found him curled up in a corner, ripping bits of his own flesh out to consume. Even now, the boy was mindlessly gnawing on his fingers, drooling into Norway's shoulder.
"Third room down is empty and has some medical supplies in it," Norway offered. "And it can be locked."
They heard something shattering down the hallway, Denmark destroying everything around him in pure rage.
"You better hurry."
Finland sighed, shifting Sweden's weight onto his other shoulder. "Same to yourself. I don't want him to get you either. Or Iceland."
Norway nodded but said nothing, fleeing himself to someplace dark and safe where he wouldn't be found by their insane King.
This was normal.