AN: So the majority of people who reviewed wanted this to continue, and I had enough inspiration to write more, so here you go! (Plus I got a review from Prussia himself, and really, who am I to say no to Prussia, lol?)
Just as a warning, in this chapter Prussia makes some jokes about domestic violence. No offense is intended toward any survivors of domestic violence. But since one of the main characters of this anime/manga walks around in an SS uniform half the time, I don't think many people in this fandom are easily offended. But if you are, please know that was not my intent.
Chapter Two
"Iceland, wake up."
"I'm awake. I'm just not going to the meeting."
Norway frowned. "Don't be childish, Iceland. You have no excuse not to go."
"I'll say," yawned Denmark. "You at least got plenty of sleep. We didn't stumble in 'til like four this morning."
"I'm sick." Iceland's voice was muffled beneath his sheet, which he had yet to remove from over his head.
"You're not sick," said Norway, even though he had to admit, if just to himself, Iceland's voice sounded a little strained. "You have a duty to attend the meeting."
"I'm not going, so piss off already," whined Iceland.
"Iceland!" Norway was starting to get mad now.
"Aww, come on," said Denmark. He strode over to Iceland's bed and grabbed the sheet and pulled. "Up and at 'emmmmmm . . ." He drew out the last syllable before trailing off, shock making him use an odd inflection. "What the?"
Norway glanced their way, but he couldn't see what had startled Denmark. Denmark stood directly between him and Iceland. "What is it?" he asked his friend because he thought Denmark was more likely to give a straight answer than his little brother.
"It's nothing!" snapped Iceland.
"Who did this to you?" asked Denmark, his voice suddenly cold and serious and putting Norway on full alert.
"What's wrong?" he asked and started moving toward them.
"No one did anything to me," growled Iceland.
"You tell me who did this to you, Ice," Denmark said, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. "You tell me right now."
"What –" Norway's voice died as he got a good look at his little brother's face. It was obvious at just a glance what had happened. Iceland had been beaten up. Badly. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and bruises marred his fair skin. His eyebrow had been split and his lip as well, and he was obviously in pain. Norway felt cold fury sweeping through his veins. He stepped forward and took Iceland's chin between two of his fingers, inspecting the damage. Iceland cringed but Norway wasn't sure if it was out of pain or fear.
"Who did this to you, Iceland?" Norway asked. His voice sounded calm, apathetic even, but what he was feeling was anything but.
"No –"
"Don't lie to me. Who. Did. This. To. You."
"Tell us, Ice," said Denmark. "We'll fix him good, I promise you. You'll never have to worry about him again."
"Tell me, Iceland," Norway said when Iceland remained silent.
"Six teenagers," said Iceland finally, "but they've already been taken care of."
"Humans did this to you?" asked Denmark, surprised.
"Yeah, but they've been dealt with." Iceland's expression clearly said he was not willing to elaborate, and Norway knew that nothing he said would make him do so. "And I'm not going to the meeting today, so leave me alone already!"
Norway let go of Iceland's chin and patted him on the back. Iceland gasped in pain, his eyes bulging, alerting Norway to the fact that there was more damage than met the eye. Before Iceland could stop him, he grabbed the hem of Iceland's shirt and pulled it up, revealing his bandaged ribs.
"What is this?" he asked coolly.
"Nothing."
"Iceland."
"I cracked a couple ribs, okay? It's not a big deal."
Norway inspected the bandaging, not sure what to make of the neatly wrapped rows. It looked professionally done. "You went to a hospital then?" he asked. There was no way Iceland could have wrapped his ribs so neatly himself, and any nation who'd done it for him would have known to contact Norway, unless they wanted trouble.
"What's it to you anyway?" demanded Iceland. "Let go of my shirt already!"
Norway let go of Iceland's shirt and sighed. It was obvious that his brother was in pain. He wished that he could just pull the covers up to Iceland's chin and tuck him in, and tell him to get some more rest, but Iceland had responsibilities as a nation. And his condition wasn't threatening his health long term or anything.
"I'm sorry, but you still have to come to the meeting," Norway told him.
"I can't go there looking like this! Everyone'll see!"
"You can't not go just because you have a black eye. Stop acting like a child."
"Then stop treating me like a child!" returned Iceland. "I'm old enough to decide what to do for myself."
"No, you're not. Now get up and get dressed."
Iceland muttered a few curses in his own language.
"Now," snapped Norway. "And stop swearing. I know what you're saying."
"Hah. Even I know what he's saying and I don't speak Icelandic," said Denmark. "And Norway's right, Ice. Unless you're bedridden, you have to come."
Norway looked away as Iceland dragged himself out of bed and pretended not to hear when his brother stifled a cry of pain. "Be ready in ten minutes," he said, then left the room so that he wouldn't have to watch.
"Have you guys noticed that Norway's got quite a temper?" Prussia asked the other two thirds of the Bad Friends Trio as they sat pigging out at the hotel's continental buffet breakfast.
"No, not really," France told him.
"Not at all, actually," Spain said. "Norway has always seemed to be a nice guy to me. And he has such a cute little brother."
Prussia thought it was probably a good thing he had been the one to save Iceland last night rather than Spain.
"Ah, yes, the little ice prince," said France with a dreamy air. Then his expression turned a little bit sinister and a little bit deranged. "I'd really like to make him a French territory."
"Do not let him hear you say that," warned Prussia. "Do not forget what the Nordics were like in their Viking days."
"They've changed their ways so much since then," said Spain. "I don't think there's been a Viking invasion for a good thousand years."
"I don't think they've changed that much," said Prussia as casually as he could. "I've seen the Norwegian when things don't go his way, and boy does he lose it. Just last night I saw him looking like he was about to fly off the handle, and not even the awesome me would want to be in his way when he did."
He was lying, of course, but it was for a good cause. And that good cause was for his own amusement. After leaving Iceland the night before, Prussia had gone back to his room, but hadn't been able to stop thinking about his new little buddy. And Iceland was so lucky that the awesome him had deemed him worthy to be his new minion. During the course of his thoughts, Prussia realized that, black eye or not, cracked ribs or not, Iceland probably would be made to attend the meeting. Chances were good that Norway would make him, regardless of how humiliated Iceland would be to have the world see him in such a state. So Prussia thought up a way to turn the tables on Norway and have him be the one who came out of this looking like an idiot rather than Iceland.
"It must have been pretty bad for you to think that," said Spain. He looked thoughtful and maybe a little confused. "Since when are you afraid of anyone?"
"Afraid? Me? I'm too awesome to be afraid, and you know that very well," said Prussia. "But that doesn't mean I can't think people are dangerous or unstable, which I most definitely thought Norway was and still is."
"Yes . . . well I need to get to the meeting room and start passing out today's agenda sheets," said Spain. "Are you both finished?"
"Yep," said Prussia. "I am ready for another day of boring ass meetings. Lead on!"
"How you always manage to be so enthusiastic about things you don't like is beyond my ken," France yawned as he followed them.
They made their way to the hotel's largest conference room, where France and Prussia each grabbed a stack of papers that needed to be left at each seat and started passing them out to help Spain finish faster. Other nations had begun streaming in by the time they were finished and Prussia and France went to give the extras to Spain so that he could recycle them or use them to line Romano's cage, or do whatever with them. Prussia had just handed over his leftover agendas when Spain let them all slip through his fingers and to the floor.
"Hey," whined Prussia. "Stop making more work for us!"
"Dios mio," said Spain looking both shocked and horrified.
"What?" Prussia asked, following his gaze, even though he was pretty sure he knew what he would see. And yes, he was just as right as he was awesome. For in walked the Nordic Five plus Sealand, and it was Iceland who'd caught Spain's attention.
"That poor boy," whispered France. "What cretin would mar something so beautiful?"
"Hmmm," said Prussia. "I have no idea. Maybe someone who everyone thinks is a very calm and serene guy, but who's actually pretty scary and still set in his Viking ways," he suggested.
"But they are brothers," said Spain.
"Huh? Hey, I wasn't naming any names," said Prussia slyly. "If you really wanna know, why not just go ask the little guy who did that to him? I'm sure he's got a decent excuse ready . . . like that he fell down the stairs. Go on, go ask him."
And France and Spain, both smitten with Iceland's normally cherubic apperance as they were, immediately went to do just that.
"Iceland, mon cherie," said France. "What has happened to you?"
Prussia was just able to hear his answer. He was hanging far enough back so that Iceland wouldn't see him and maybe get suspicious.
"Nothing," said Iceland irritably.
"Something happened," said Spain. "Your face . . ."
Iceland hunched his shoulders and looked away from them. "I walked into a door is all."
"HA!" Prussia couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly all eyes were drawn to him. Damn. "I mean . . . ouch. That sounds like it hurt. And that doesn't sound at all like the kind of answer someone would tell you to give when people asked what happened. There's no way you're not telling the truth."
Iceland glowered at him, but didn't seem to understand what he was really implying.
"Shut up, Prussia," said Norway, returning to Iceland's side so that he could come to his little brother's defense . . . and incriminating himself in the exact same sentence.
Prussia smirked as he saw France and Spain trading looks then turning glares on Norway. Perfect. He pantomimed zipping his lips together and tossing away the key. As he turned his back to the small gathered group, he saw France and Spain splitting apart, France going over to where England and America had been chatting before they started watching the entertainment, and Spain going over to Italy, Romano, Germany, and Japan. Both spoke in low tones to the groups they'd joined, and then dark or worried glances were directed at Norway and Iceland respectively.
It took everything Prussia had not to burst out laughing as rumors began circulating about the two.
When the meeting broke for lunch, Iceland found himself cut off from the other Nordics as he was swarmed by other nations who all seemed to be overly sympathetic to the state he was in. America draped an arm around his shoulders and seemed to deliberately be guiding him away from Norway, who'd been trying to stay by his side. Then China was there with his entourage of Asian relatives, China trying to offer him tea, South Korea insisted that his own tea was better since it had originated from his place, Hong Kong hovering silently nearby, looking sympathetic, and Japan also hovering close by, but looking quite troubled. There were others too. Germany didn't come too close to Iceland but firmly planted himself in the way when Norway sought to rejoin his brother, which seemed to give Romano the courage to pick a fight with Norway about something that didn't seem relative to anything, but which suitably distracted him from the fact that Iceland was being swept away by the sea of other nations.
Iceland didn't understand why everyone suddenly wanted to talk to him just because he had a black eye and a few bruises. It was embarrassing. Even England who was usually pissy to Iceland (still ticked about the Cod Wars) tried touching his arm and spoke to him consolingly. To be honest it was all starting to freak Iceland out.
Finally he managed to break away and jetted down the hall, away from the swarms of overly sympathetic nations. The hotel restaurant was probably where most of them were headed, so he circumnavigated around that area, instead heading to the alcove where he'd seen vending machines the previous day.
"Potato chip?" An open bag was suddenly thrust into his face. Behind it, Iceland saw Prussia's smirking face.
"No thanks," said Iceland.
"Potato chips are your friend, midget. Look closer."
Iceland blinked and took a better look inside the bag, which he now saw was empty . . . except for a tiny blue and white pill, just like the one Prussia had given him the night before. Gratefully, Iceland reached in, took it, and swallowed it dry. He had to make an effort not to choke. He wasn't used to swallowing pills dry, but he hadn't wanted to mix alcohol and medicine last night, any more than he'd wanted Prussia to think he was a sissy.
"Thank you," he said and leaned against the wall as Prussia crumpled up the potato chip bag and tossed it into a trashcan.
"If you're thankful then –"
"Shut up."
Prussia laughed and ruffled his hair. Iceland scowled at him but didn't bother trying to flatten it. His hair was always a mess, something that drove Norway crazy.
"How did you know I would come here?" Iceland asked, realizing that Prussia had been waiting for him.
"I'm just that awesome. So how're the ribs today?"
"They ache," said Iceland, honestly. "And it's humiliating having everyone see me like this."
"Yep. You look like a poster child for an abuse hotline," Prussia told him. And did the smirk on his face grow demonic? Iceland didn't understand why. He got the feeling Prussia thought something was hilarious, but didn't know what. At least he didn't feel like Prussia was making fun of him.
"I don't look that bad."
"Nope. You're not the one who looks bad."
Again, Iceland felt like something was going over his head. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing." Prussia's laugh made it clear that it definitely wasn't nothing. "You wanna get something to eat?"
"Why do you think I came here?" asked Iceland as he dug in his pockets for change.
"Because you didn't feel like going to the hotel restaurant with so many people hanging onto you," said Prussia. "But other restaurants do exist, you know. You don't need to walk for an hour to get to them either."
Iceland felt his face coloring at the memory of last night's fiasco. "Sh-shut up."
Prussia laughed again and flung an arm around Iceland's shoulders. "Right. Let's get some real food."
Lunch with Prussia was surprisingly . . . enjoyable. The older ex-nation was obnoxious, yes, but not as bad as Iceland had always heard he was. He certainly wasn't any worse than Denmark who was always pestering him to call them "big brother" and playfully shoving him around, pinching his cheeks, and nearly scalping him whenever he felt the need to give Iceland a noogie. Prussia seemed to prefer just to sling an arm around Iceland's shoulders, and while Iceland wasn't crazy about that, it was infinitely better than collecting bruises in the name of familial affection.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Prussia asked over lunch, which consisted of some sort of rice dish with lots of seafood.
"I talk enough."
"No, you really don't." Prussia frowned at him. "You don't get out often, do you?"
"I get out plenty!" said Iceland, irritated now, as was the norm for him.
"No you don't."
"Yes I do!"
"Then what kind of things do you do when you go out?" Prussia wanted to know.
"I . . ." Iceland tried to think of something quickly. "Whatever the others want to do, I guess."
"The others being the rest of the Nordic Five?" Prussia asked.
"Well, yeah."
"Well when it's your turn to choose what you do, what do you choose?" demanded Prussia.
"My turn . . ." Iceland faltered.
"You don't get to choose, do you?" asked Prussia smugly.
"I do!" Iceland lied.
"Then what was the last thing you chose to do?"
Iceland scowled at him. "Stop asking me stupid questions."
"You think it's stupid when people ask you what you want to do?"
"I – you – they – eragh! Didn't I just say stop asking stupid questions?"
"All I'm asking is what you do for fun," said Prussia. "There's nothing stupid about that. Answering is the least you can do for the guy who saved your other eye from getting blackened, you know."
Iceland frowned and thought for a minute. "I like movies," he said finally.
"Because they're something you can do with other people that you don't have to talk for?" Prussia asked slyly.
"Exactly," Iceland agreed.
"Hah! It's like I said, you don't talk much."
"I talk enough," growled Iceland. "Why are you back to that, anyway? You're annoying."
"I'm just trying to figure out why you're so spastic," said Prussia.
Iceland scowled. "I'm not spastic!"
"Actually, you kind of are."
Iceland glared. "If I'm so spastic then why are you bothering to be nice to me?"
"I didn't say you being spastic was a bad thing," said Prussia. "You're interesting, at least, but I get the feeling not many people notice that."
That made Iceland fall silent and think for a few moments. Prussia was right about not a lot of people noticing Iceland. Of the Nordic Five, he was the last one who people turned to and asked his opinion, and he never got to choose what they did when the five of them went out and did stuff. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember the last time he'd even gotten to choose a restaurant. The others were louder, more forceful, and older. He was the kid, the one no one really took seriously. No matter how mad it made him, no matter how often he blew up, no one ever took him seriously. So why . . . why was Prussia?
It occurred to Iceland that maybe Prussia wasn't taking him seriously. This could be some sort of prank, or maybe Prussia was just bored and had nothing better to do, yet how had he managed to pick up on the things that Iceland hadn't even consciously realized about his relationship with the other Nordics?
"I don't really like talking," Iceland said, speaking as he realized it, "because no one ever really listens to what I have to say."
Prussia clapped his hands. "Now we're getting somewhere."
"What?" Iceland looked at him confused.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully, little island," Prussia told him.
"Huh?"
"Next time you say something and someone doesn't listen, I want you to punch them in the face as hard as you can. If you do that, then you will be awesome."
Iceland stared at him. "I don't think –"
"No, no, trust me – Yow!" Prussia's head snapped back as Iceland's fist connected with his jaw.
"Like that?" Iceland asked, trying to hold back a smirk.
"I didn't mean me, you little twerp!" Prussia said, rubbing his jaw.
"You said the next time someone didn't listen to something I had to say," Iceland reminded him. "Then you went and cut me off when I was trying to talk."
"Haha, touche," said Prussia. "But for the record, I don't listen to anyone else, not really. So basically, I'm treating you the same way I treat everyone else."
"Thanks for that," Iceland said. He rubbed his knuckles beneath the table so that Prussia wouldn't see. Punching him in the jaw had hurt. It seemed that nonstop babbling of his own self glorification had given him a jaw of steel.
"You know, Iceland," Prussia said, still rubbing his jaw. "That was actually kind of awesome."
"Thanks . . . I think."
Lunch ended too quickly, and all too soon, Iceland found himself back in the boring conference room, listening to boring speeches and debates, aware the whole while that people were throwing him weird glances, until finally the meeting also ended, and Iceland started to trudge back to his hotel room with the rest of the Nordics.
That, of course, was easier said than done. Everyone in the whole damn world seemed to want to stop them for some reason or another. To inquire about how he was feeling, or to stress that if he needed anything, anything at all, especially someplace to stay, that he could turn to them. Iceland really didn't understand this, or them, but he tried to smile politely, and nodded, and got out of there as quickly as he could. The other Nordics had gone on ahead without him, but when he reached his hotel room, he found them all gathered there, with a wide variety of expressions on their faces.
Denmark was on his back, on his bed, laughing like a madman. Sweden looked impassive as always and Finland looked a bit worried, but Norway . . . Norway looked seriously ticked off.
"What did you tell everyone?" he demanded as soon as Iceland closed the door.
"What?" Iceland was confused.
"About how you got hurt," said Norway. "What did you tell the other nations?"
"Nothing," Iceland snapped. "Why would I?"
"You must have told them something." Norway's gaze was as cold as a glacier.
"I don't understand what you mean," said Iceland.
"What Nor wants to know," said Denmark, managing to stop laughing, but only just barely, "is if you told anyone that you got that black eye and those bruises from your dear big brother here."
"What?" Iceland stared at them. "Why the hell would I tell anyone that?"
Denmark didn't answer, instead dissolving into a fit of laughs again.
"Seems t' b' th' gener'l consensus that's wh't happen'd," Sweden spoke up.
"What?"
"Denmark, it's really not a laughing matter," said Finland. "And Norway, I told you Ice-kun would never say something like that. Look at him, he's obviously just confused as we all are."
"People didn't just get that idea out of nowhere," said Norway, but he didn't look as annoyed at Iceland now.
"I don't know how they got it," said Iceland. "Honest. Seriously, why would I tell someone that? I'm not looking to start any international incidents."
"What exactly did you say when people asked what happened?" Norway asked, sitting down beside Iceland on Iceland's rollaway bed.
Iceland shrugged then grimaced at the pain that brought to his ribs. "I told Spain and France that I walked into a door."
Denmark made a choking sound. "You said what?" he managed to gasp out before falling back into fits of laughter.
"Iceland," Norway said in an overly patient voice, "is there any particular reason why you gave the generic domestic abuse victim's answer to that question?"
Iceland opened his mouth then closed it as he realized several things at once. The first was that he didn't want to tell the other Nordics that it had been Prussia who'd come to his rescue the previous night. Not just because he wanted them to think he took care of his problem himself, but because . . . well, he couldn't explain why he didn't want them knowing about his friendship with the obnoxious ex-nation. He just didn't. The second thing he realized was that Prussia had kind of set up him. It had been Prussia who'd told him to say he walked into a door or fell down stairs in the first place, and Iceland remembered that strange little aside of Prussia's that morning, after Iceland had answered Spain's question. Iceland supposed that he should probably be annoyed about Prussia's deception, except when he thought about it . . . it was kind of funny that half the world now thought Norway was an abusive brother/parent figure.
"I was being sarcastic," he told Norway. "I didn't think anyone would either take me seriously or read deeper into such an obvious lie." He scowled and felt a surge of anger so great that its proportion almost seemed irrational for the situation. "I can't believe you thought I'd tell people that you hit me. What do you take me for?"
Norway looked away. "You're right," he admitted. "I should have known better. I apologize."
Iceland's anger did not abate. Ignoring both the apology and the fact that his brother was still sitting on his bed, Iceland laid down and closed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep. Shut up already, Denmark."
"What about dinner?" Finland asked. "You haven't eaten yet."
"I said I'm going to sleep. Go without me. I wouldn't want to cramp your style."
"Awww, Ice." Denmark crossed the room in record time and hauled him up by his collar to give him a bear hug. "I didn't mean that. Don't be –"
"OUCH! Let go!" Iceland screamed and flailed against Denmark's hold.
"Let go of him!" Norway was immediately there, separating Denmark from Iceland, whose ribs felt like they had just been lit on fire.
Iceland fell back onto the creaky mattress, clenching his jaw to avoid whimpering.
"Oh shit, I'm sorry, Ice, I'm sorry," Denmark said, realizing what he'd done.
"Don't touch him!" Norway hissed when Denmark went to put a hand on Iceland's shoulder. "I don't want you hurting him again!"
"That's your job, isn't it?" Denmark tried to joke, but the joke fell flat. Norway gave him a dirty look then grabbed him by his tie. "Gah!" Denmark gagged as Norway yanked on the tie and released it to send Denmark stumbling
Then Norway sat down beside Iceland and carefully put a hand on Iceland's forehead, his gentleness belying his violence from two seconds ago. "You're warm," Norway commented. "You may have a fever."
"I'm fine," Iceland said, closing his eyes. "I just want to go to sleep Norway. That's all I want right now, so all of you, please just go." He was a little bit mad at himself that all his anger had drained away so quickly, but he was too tired to care too much. He really did just want to sleep, and Norway's cool hand on his forehead seemed to just loll his consciousness away.
"Then sleep," Norway told him. "We'll bring something back for you, in case you get hungry tonight."
"Thanks." Iceland felt a blanket being draped over him and was confused for a second, because he had just enough presence of mind to realize that he was lying on top of all his blankets. He cracked open an eyelid and saw that Denmark had taken the blanket from his own bed to cover him with.
"I really am sorry, Icey," Denmark said softly.
"S'okay," Iceland said, closing his eye again.
"And hey, tomorrow we all get to go home. We don't have to worry about another meeting for another three months –"
"Let him sleep," Norway said coldly. "Can't you see he's exhausted?"
"Yeah. Right. Sorry." Denmark ruffled Iceland's hair.
"I told you not to touch him."
"Right. Sorry."
They managed to get out of the room without another word, leaving Iceland alone, like he'd requested. And he was glad to see them go. He was so tired. And he was glad that the world conference was over. But at the same time, a little disappointed too. He would have liked to have hung out with Prussia a little more, and yes, it shocked him too. But Prussia had been surprisingly cool, and nice to him, and Iceland wished that it could have lasted a bit longer. Who knew if Prussia would even give him the time of day at the next conference? If he didn't, Iceland wouldn't be surprised one bit. Such was the story of his life. One minute he'd be getting along well with the other Nordics, the next he was being excluded for being the youngest.
At least if Prussia ignored him next time it wouldn't be for some stupid reason like that. It would be because that's how he treated everyone, without exclusion. And Iceland wouldn't care one bit.
That's what he kept telling himself, anyway.