Thanks to all who favourited and alerted this fanfic! It brings so much joy to me knowing that you all like this thing :3

I know I'm late with the update, but I've been playing KotOR I and II and was at a time terribly addicted (shame on you if you don't know about KotOR!) =w= Anyway, I beat the games so here you go! Enjoy moar torture x]

Oh... his body hurt. His legs, arms, abdomen, head... and the funny thing about this were that Gilbert hadn't tried getting any information out of him. He had merely played, enjoyed, the Norwegian's agony. Norway did his best, of course. He kept his lips shut, refusing to give the albino the pleasure of seeing him scream but a whimper might have escaped without him noticing. Like when the pain was threatening to cut off his consciousness, or when Gilbert was playing dangerously between his legs. But the ex-nation was an expert in his job. Whenever Norway lost his consciousness, he brought him back and continued with his twisted fun.

Now, the Norwegian was actually happy to feel his arms pulled by his own weight, seeing as his legs were too weak to hold him up any longer. Pain was still lingering, but compared to what he had to endure earlier, it was welcomed. He forced himself to look up and take a look around, searching for his captor.

Gilbert had thoroughly enjoyed the pain he was causing. It was admirable though, how silent Norway was. Very rare was it that the albino was treated with a truly tough being; all too often had he been presented with a stony-faced captive who spat out strong words, but broke within five minutes. He was an established interrogator. He had learned most of it during WWI, but had refined it into an art during WWII. He knew all too well how to kill someone and bring them back to the world of living, or keep them alive for days and days and days and days, not allowing them to die.

During the night, he had talked to Norway. He described in great detail the days he had spent in Birkenau, how he had given his prisoners a small flicker of hope, only to be replaced with an animalistic fear when the gas door closed behind them. He even told the Norwegian about his occasional breeding exploits in the past, during which he had slept with a female human, only to have her and the offspring killed later. Yeah, he was as sick in the head as any self respecting ex-nation, despite seeming somewhat normal. But then again, who knew what was wrong and what was right?

He had at some point left to give a message to his soldiers, confident in his restraints. An hour, or maybe two, passed with slow monotony until the tall shadow of the albino alerted his captive of his return. He put down the two buckets of water he had brought with him, careful not to spoil anything.

"Back so soon, murderer?" Norway's voice was quiet, but he was still radiating defiance. He had searched deep within himself and embraced his old Viking-self to endure the night. But still, those haunting stories Gilbert had told left their marks. Even now, Norway could feel his insides twist and turn, accompanied by an occasional wave of nausea. But the worst about this entire ordeal was the fact that he found himself listening to Gilbert's deep, rumbling voice. His mind even acted on his own, conjuring up images, to match the words. Many things could be said against the ex-nation, but he certainly had a way with his words.

Gilbert, at the time, had indeed taken notice. He observed his prey with malicious intent, noting every change. It didn't matter how subtle it was, Norway had been far less adamant about ignoring him during the stories of his pleasure exploits. "I would not leave such a delicious piece of Norway hanging around for the hounds to take," he said. "You are still mine until I'm finished with you!"

He picked up the sponge from one of the buckets, gave it a light squeeze and watched as the water fell back into the bucket. "I wonder, shall I continue where I left off...?"

"Hrmph. Do whatever you want. Du vil aldri kunne knekke meg." The Norwegian was smiling. So what if he died here? It didn't matter, if he were allowed to see Iceland again. He eyed the water cautiously with one good eye and a swollen eye. What, was the albino going to drown him? In the middle of the desert? The ex-nation was more insane than he had previously thought.

Gilbert's laughter echoed. "I'm not trying to break you, foolish Norwegen. Obviously you've yet to figure that out." He gently ran the moist sponge over his hands, watching as the skin was cleansed of the dried blood. "I don't want anything from you."

This time, it was Norway's turn to laugh, albeit not as harsh as Gilbert. "Apart from good entertainment? Oh, I'm sure I'm providing that now, am I not?" He shifted, standing up. Some of his energy seeped back by now; he felt his legs being able to support his weight, relieving the tension of his arms. It was a welcomed relief. Luckily, nations didn't tire as easily as humans did…

The albino smirked before dropping the sponge back into the bucket. At some point, he had gotten tired of the dried blood all over him. It was beginning to smell in the heat, and sand and dust stuck to his uniform like Hungary to her yaoi novels. "Oh, I was very entertained… and I still intend to be entertained. Then, I suppose, I will let you go to run off to your little offended friends so you can cry and tell them what the bad, bad Prussia did to you." Even himself was amused by the way he said it, and he chuckled under his breath as he lifted the second bucket.

A sponge would take way too long, so instead he decided to turn the second bucket upside down over his head. The water wasn't as cold as he had preferred, but few things stayed cold in the desert. Once again, he felt his body soak as the water washed over him. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and ran a hand through his hair before the water stopped flowing. There was no way all the blood would wash off, but it was a start.

Norway didn't bother to answer. Half of what the malicious albino was saying would be true. Once he was free, he will run back to his friends and tell them what happened. But he was not going to cry. He never showed emotions in public, and he wasn't going to start now.

He watched as the water embraced the ex-nation as a transparent shield before hitting the sand. Tainted coppery water was hungrily absorbed by the sand under his feet. Norway felt a cold hand clutch his insides once he realized that the bloody water was probably the last thing he would ever see of Iceland. And he was suddenly painfully aware of the blood on his clothes and face.

Utterly unafraid of his captive, due to Gilbert's complete control of the situation, the albino didn't hesitate to remove his uniform, exposing his shirt and (slightly outdated) boxer shorts. Then, he hoisted the first bucket over his head and let half of the containing water wash over him, before putting the bucket down. His white shirt had gained a pink tinge to it, but it didn't matter. Now relieved of the heavy Prussian jacket, Gilbert took the sponge once more, and began to clean himself.

So much water… where had Gilbert acquired it? Gilbert had been gone a little while but he couldn't have walked all the way to the nearest town. After Norway came to Egypt, it took him an entire day to cross the desert to find this cave. Had his soldiers met him halfway? Without spilling the water? An impressive feat… He swallowed absentmindedly, and was reminded of just how dry his mouth was.

He hadn't eaten or drunk anything since his boss was found murdered… which was… hmm… four days ago? Or maybe five? He couldn't remember. All that he wanted now, was a mouthful of the water left in Gilbert's bucket. Was it selfish…? Maybe… but he was prepared to live with guilt if he could only drink away the sand and dust in his mouth.

And amidst all of this, Gilbert found himself humming. It was the Emperor's hymn about Kaiser Wilhelm, and although he favoured der alte Fritz, the Emperor's hymn was one of his favourite songs. Yup, he had gone crazy, that was the only explanation. Not that he cared of course. He cared for nothing, and death didn't scare him. And judging by his willingness (or at least assuming of which) to let Norway go after he was finished, showed that he didn't give a damn if the rest of the world came after him. They hadn't cared what happened to him after his country was divided amongst his friends, so why should they do now?

He turned his head to look at his captive, whose eyes were on the bucket with water. Maybe the nation was thirsty... what a shame. "You want something?"

"Not from you!" Norway rasped before he could stop himself. Surely, Gilbert would only use it against him if he declared his deepest longing for water. "Not that you would care anyway, you heartless freak!" He clenched his jaws and stood proudly, despite the malicious look Gilbert gave him.

The albino seemed to pout sadistically. "I'm hardly heartless..." with that, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt to expose his pale chest before approaching the Norwegian. Since his hands were preoccupied, Gilbert instead pressed his chest against Norway. The Norwegian's navy top and blue collar had been ripped to parts during the night, so that the only thing that prevented skin-on-skin contact was a sleeveless shirt.

Gilbert was taller than Norway, not to mention stronger, and he prevented the Norwegian any escape by putting his own hands around his back. "You feel that?" he murmured as he rested his chin on Norway's shoulder. "My heart beats, just like yours do."

Norway turned his head away from Gilbert, and tried to wriggle his body out from Gilbert's grasp, but to no success. And then, he made the mistake to stop and feel. With his eyes closed tight, the albino's warm breath tickling his neck, he could feel the ex-nation's heart.

A nation's heart was the nation. Without a heart, the nation weren't able to survive for long. How Iceland the nation was going to continue to exist without Eysteinn was still a mystery to Norway... but how Gilbert was still alive with a beating heart without a nation was an even greater mystery.

Norway was also aware of the fact that a nation's heart was almost sacred. It was the greatest gift given to them, and also the greatest gift one could receive – the sign of complete trust and deepest love. Bosses and superiors could form alliances and break alliances, but that was surface-only. A union between two hearts was very intimate and very personal. It was the one thing bosses didn't control, hence the importance of its freedom.

For Gilbert to walk over to him and make Norway feel his heart just like that, was considered very vulgar... at least to Norway. But despite this, he could still feel Gilbert's heart beckon and calling for his own. He could feel his body melt with Gilbert, before reality finally kicked in. "Whore," he spat.

Oh, oh, but the Norwegian was just throwing ways to torment his attacker. Just offering them up and making it worse for himself – Gilbert was in heaven here with this foolish kid. The bloody water bothered him, the stories bothered him, feeling the ex-nation's heart when it should never have been felt in the first place bothered him... and Gilbert knew it. He tilted his head, so that it was now his cheek resting on Norway's shoulder, thoroughly amused by the term usage. "Am I?"

With no layer of armour it would be so easy for the Norwegian to finish him off... and because of the close proximity; Norway wouldn't even need a weapon. But, unfortunately, the Norwegian's hands were bound and secured. Gilbert let his hands caress Norway's back in a loving manner, as he stuck out his tongue to give the pale Norwegian neck a tender lick. "Am I now?"

"You are the most despicable being I've ever known! You are insane, how do you live with yourself?" Norway sneered. "Your mind is all messed up, did you fell down the stairs as a child?" The insults helped a little, they eased the tension. No matter what his people said, English was a creative language.

And, he was not about to admit, that his own heart, hidden well behind both physical and mental barriers, was slowly starting to ache with longing, wanting to soothe another, unite with it and share the pain. A union was not just about simple bodily pleasure. When two souls united, they interacted as well, soothing, healing, comforting another.

Inches away, Gilbert listened as Norway spat useless insults at him. Telling him he was insane was as monotonous as telling him his hair was white or silvery. But still, he continued to caress his Norwegian prisoner and pressed their bodies even closer. He realised, if he were to achieve his goal, he needed to pursue the Norwegian and not let him escape. "What is your real name, Norwegen?"

"None of your bloody business," Norway replied poisonously, trying to block out any of Gilbert's words. But the steady, comforting beating of the ex-nation's heart wouldn't let itself be ignored... it didn't matter if it was located in the enemy's chest... "I'm not even sure why you try. You obviously can't comprehend anything... why the hell would I tell you my name?" Oh surely the albino could already feel the Norwegian heart longing, but that didn't mean Norway was going to serve his most precious possession on a silver plate.

A heart was a heart, wasn't it? Even if it belonged to an insane ex-nation that had more than likely twisted it to be black as night. It was still a heart. Gilbert pushed the Norwegian back against the cavern wall with the chain barely allowing it. "I comprehend perfectly," he breathed into Norway's ear, watching with a glee as the Norwegian shuddered.

"You don't want to tell me your name because it is personal, hm? I'm sure only a few of your closest friends knows of it... the Nordics I would presume. And as a true Norwegian, you loathe to have others know your most personal details because it can be used against you in a situation you don't control. That is why you also keep your emotions to a minimum in public. To control the situation." He smirked in triumph and paused melodramatically to let the words sink in. "But you don't control the situation now, Norwegen, I do. I also know just what you desire of me the most at this time, which is almost unbearable for you..."

Norway took a sharp breath and tried once again to wriggle his way out of Gilbert's grip. But with his back against the cave wall, it proved useless. "Get off of me, get off! This is gross! Like I desire anything of you, well, maybe except your head on a stick... or your soul in my hand!" Still, he couldn't keep his heart from speeding up; the adrenaline rushing through is veins... Gilbert was not right. He couldn't be right... it was all lies, lies!

Gilbert's hushed, gravelly voice turned into snicker, which escalated into a hearty laughter, and then three layers of madness was added into the laughter. No. He wasn't sane. He would never be again, not even if his country was given back. But he didn't have his country... he had only Norway. And he knew exactly what to do...

His lips began to caress the pale Norwegian neck as his hands began to tear on the sleeveless shirt. His skin felt so smooth to touch, just like the finest porcelain, but it lacked the coolness. Norway was not used to the heat of the desert; he belonged to the crisp mountain air and the salty wind that caressed the long shore of his nation. Being trapped in the desert for two days had given Norway a permanent blush to his cheeks and his skin was moist from the heat. But it only served to make the Norwegian even more attractive.

A small squeak escaped Norway's lips and he began immediately to twist and thrash around in an attempt to gain some proximity between him and the albino. But he could still feel Gilbert's soaked hair occasionally brushing against his shoulders and neck as the ex-nation moved up along his jaw line. It was torture. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, Gilbert still held him firmly. "Let me go!" he squeaked helplessly.

And then, something shifted. It was a weird, unknown sensation to the Norwegian and somehow he knew Gilbert had sensed it too. Faen...

It wasn't something that could be physically felt by any of the two; it was more a change of atmosphere between them. And Gilbert was pleased. Very pleased. He let the sleeveless shirt of Norway be, and instead slid his arms around Norway's neck. "It's funny... I could kill you in an instant, kid, but that isn't what you're afraid of, is it?" the haunting voice crooned, almost caring, almost loving... if it weren't for that sick, twisted undertone that was reminiscent of boiling black; a demon, or the first hint of Ragnarok. "You fear something else, something far more personal hm?"

That was it. Gilbert knew too much about him, it had to stop right now. Norway curled his fingers around the chain, then, letting the restraint take his weight, he brought his legs up with as much force he could muster, kicking into Gilbert's abdomen. "Get away from me!" Norway roared defiantly.

Thad had been wholly unexpected, and as such, the albino took the attack without defence. He was knocked back, his arms lost their grip around Norway's neck and he landed heavily in the sand on his back. He blinked. So! Norway hadn't broken yet after all! Verdammt, Gilbert rose to his feet, ignoring the feeling of sand glued to his still soaked clothes, and stood to face his captive once more. "Can't be having that, Norwegen," he purred, a pair of red eyes looking maliciously into Norway's blue. "Now can we...?"

Did I just make a cliffhanger? OH NOES!

Well, rest assured... the update should be up in a couple days. And let's see if I can get the two out of the desert!

Glossay

Du vil aldri kunne knekke meg - you will never break me (Norwegian)

Der alte Fritz - old man Fritz (German)

Faen - a shortening for fanden (the devil), but in English the translation would be something similar to "fuck" (Norwegian)

Ragnarok - the end of the world according to Norse mythology

Verdammt - damn/damn it (German)