"We want independence Denmark, let us go.." a harsh voice called as their faces faded. Denmark had fallen into an abyss filled with things from his worst nightmares. He shook his head and his vision cleared, seeing two figures walking off away from him. "W-what?" he yelled. "WAIT NO!" he called trying to run after them. It seemed the closer he got, they farther away from him the figures were. He collasped onto his knees, tears pooling into his eyes. "Don't go.." he said softly, but it was unheard, for his voice failed him when he saw two more figures approaching him. "Y-you came ba-" he started. But it wasn't the same figures. One was short, and the other was almost as tall as him.
"D'nm'rk.." a voice said in a rather thick Swedish draw. "'M t'k'ng h'm w'th me.." the voice said coldly, grabbing the shorter nations hand. "NO! You can't all leave me!," he screamed, tears pouring down his face, staining the black ground white as they fell to what seemed to be the floor. "Please don't leave.. please!" he begged as the figures turned and walked away from him, they shapes slowly fading the farther they got away.
"NO!" Denmark shouted, shooting up to sit upright in his bed. He panted heavily, shaking furiously. His eyes were wide, and he leaned over to his lamp next to his bed, turning it on. He looked over at a mirror across from his bed. His cheeks were flushed slightly pink, his chest was aching, he was crying, and sweating bullets. He gasped for air for a bit then sighed, wiping his hands over his face, trying to calm himself down. He shudderd one last time before swinging his legs out of bed and standing up slowly. He was thirsting now, so he started to head towards the kitchen, trying to forget the nightmare he had been having for the past few weeks now.
Denmark's house was huge. A rather large mansion by a nearby beach. From his front porch you could easily hear the siren's singing a seductive song, and waves crashing against the rocks and the shorline in a steady rythm. Ever since his beloved brothers had left him, the house had never changed. Beds were still unmade. Pencils, paper, and toys were still out. Plates from the dinner from the night before they left were shelved carefully in their own special cabinet. Most others would find him old fashioned, or paranoid, but he just didn't want to lose the last few precious memories he had of them. He felt his heart lurch as he remembered Christmas eve's, and hot cocoa. He shuddered and grabbed a beer from the fridge, heading out the door to stand on the fronch porch.
The cool breeze hit his very hot face, which grew more flushed as the sun started to rise of the mountains near his home. He opened his beer, and took a swig. He shook his head, feeling the alcohol finally kick in. He sighed and threw the bottle on the ground. He didn't feel like drinking all of the sudden.. As he made his way back into the house. Warm voices greeted him, and he said images of the four little nations. He knew his mind was only playing tricks on him, so he went back inside into his bedroom. He couldn't.. or more wouldn't go to sleep after this nightmare. He looked over at the clock, it was already five in the morning. He sighed and went ahead and got dressed, knowing he wouldn't sleep for the rest of the night.
His footsteps echoed almost mockingly as he walked down the hallways of his home, looking a bit lost. He seemed to not know where he was going, or what was happening as more illusions of his long gone family appeared and disappeared as quickly as they came. He felt his heart lurch, and something sink inside of him as each illusion teased him. When he saw himself, hugging his family at Christmas under the tree, each with a cup of cocoa, smiling.. he winced, and gave up and he sat down on the couch, begining to sob freely. He hung his head, and slammed his fist hard against his wooden table, it splintered easily, and he yelped in pain as something in his hand cracked. Dammit. Not again. He went into the bathroom to get something to hold his hand together while it healed.
When he finished wrapping his injured hand, he looked into the mirror and his eyes widened. Who was that.. thing? Pale, red, teary eyes, all complete with a haunted or ghostly look to the creature's face. It's spiky blonde hair was greasy, and starting to lay flat. He growled a bit at what was supposed to be his reflection and ran his hand through his hair, running out of the bathroom. He walked into the kitchen, and ignored the voices he was hearing. He turned around and saw another illusion. Sweden, Finland, Norway, and Iceland were all in his kitchen with a box in their hands, Sweden holding a cake with Strawberries in it. They had shocked looks on their faces, seeing the face that Denmark had seen in the mirror. He sighed, and tried walking through them, like most illusions, but he actually ran into the Norway illusion! He blinked as it talked.
"You idiot! What's wrong with you! You look horrible!" said the harsh and cold voice he was used to.
"W-..what are y-you d-doing here..?" he asked softly.
All of the answered this one at the same time.
"Happy Birthday Denmark!"
Denmark stared at them for a moment, as if they'd disappear right after.. but they didn't. He fell to his knees and sobbed freely, realizing something.
They came back...