Finland stared at his open bag on the bed, contemplating on what to take. He was told to take only what was absolutely necessary, and as he looked up to the wall of guns, every one of them seemed necessary. But both he and that poor bag knew even lugging around more than one would be a toll on his body and the bag.

He'd collected so many…he had stolen 2 or 3 from Russia during the Soviet Union, been gifted one by Sweden, had been allowed to keep one from Switzerland, and of course, his own country's guns. And he collected many others, as well…

His thoughts briefly flickered to the threat he'd shouted at the meeting hall three hours earlier—'If you all don't stop arguing, I swear, I'll go home and get my Valmet Rk.62!'

The Finn sighed, picking up his Valmet Rk.62 and weighing it in his hands. It was the gun he'd used for the Winter War. Turning it around, he evaluated it in his head. It was still in pretty good shape, considering what it had been through. Some of the guns here he rarely ever used, so he couldn't trust them that well. He and this gun had been around quite a few times, so he smiled, nodded to himself, and set the Valmet on the table, and headed off to the next room over to get some rounds of ammo.

Around halfway through sorting and re-organizing boxes of different bullets, Finland's phone began to ring. He rushed over, nearly knocking down the Galil placed by the doorway, and answered quickly, "Hello?"

"…M'wife," was the answer he received.

With a sigh, he replied back half-heartedly, "…Hello, Sweden. Need anything?"

"First of all," the Swede on the other line started, "Norway just called me. He said that I should call you and tell them to you…first off, when we get wherever we're going, we call each other by our real names. Start now to practice."

He paused for a moment, waiting for a response. Finland laughed nervously, "Okay, Berwald. What else?"

Seeming satisfied with his answer, Sweden continued, "Next…only take one weapon of choice. A couple rounds if you're choosing a gun…lastly, Tino, don't forget…"

"Yes?"

"…We don't leave each other's side."

Finland was a bit surprised at the sudden seriousness in the Swede's tone. He nodded to himself, then replied with a quick, "Okay," and hung up the phone.

Continuing his work, Sweden's sentence rang in his head. We don't leave each other's side.


Sweden stared at the phone in his hand, listening to the empty sound fill his ears.

Okay, so maybe Norway hadn't specifically said they needed to stay together, but that was one of the most important rules when invading enemy territory—keep with each other until you know the hideout like the back of your hand. All masters of war knew that.

But that was the thing—even with the advantage of thousands of years on their side, nations weren't masters of war. Such a thing didn't exist; everyone used different tactics in battle. But it was always two or more groups working towards a different goal. In this case, it was just one small group of 4 heading into a possible death camp.

As Sweden paced back and forth nervously, Hanatamago pouncing on his leg, he kept reminding himself that worrying over Finland was okay. Finland was really the only nation he ever really liked—or liked him, for that matter. He'd never wanted Norway in the first place back in 1814. Sweden was just miserable without 'his wife', and getting revenge on Denmark seemed like such a glorious moment at the time. Of course, he regretted it after Norway barely glanced in his direction for the next century.

His head spun as he went through all the reasons in why it was alright to be concerned. He looked at his surroundings—this was his and Finland's house, the house they'd shared since Finland broke away from the Soviet Union. Finland was just over at the apartment he'd rented about three blocks away in case he needed space. The idea of that in the first place made Sweden uncomfortable, but he agreed to it because Finland never really went down there anyways.

He sighed, and glared down at the dog that was scratching against his pants.

The tall blonde sat down on his couch, hands folded across his mouth, elbows resting on his knees. Liking—no, loving someone this bad was okay, right? And he knew Finland loved him back. But he also knew it would never be nearly as strong as how he felt.

Finland was the brightest, cheeriest country anyone would ever come across, and Sweden was an intimidating, tall Nordic that grunted instead of speech. The fact that Finland chose him to live with and spend his time with meant everything to him.

And Sweden wasn't about to let the incident take him away.


"Nor, have you seen Dupa?" Denmark shouted from the top of the steps.

"…Have I seen what?" Norway called back from the basement, frantically searching for a spell book he'd hidden a month earlier.

"Dupa! My axe!"

He dropped the box in his arms with a thud, glowering at the air. "You named your fucking axe, Anko?"

"Well," he responded, now halfway down the stairs, "it's been with me for a while! Ever since before our first Union. So I named it about 10 minutes ago—pretty cool, huh?" Denmark beamed to himself.

"Yeah, sure, but," Norway added, thinking for a minute, "…you realize it means ass in Polish, right?"

"…" The Dane sighed loudly, now shouting again and heading back up the stairs. "Just—Just, have you seen it?"

Ignoring the clearly oblivious Dane (as his axe leaned against the wall several yards from where Norway was standing), Norway continued shoving aside old documents and photos he didn't have time to look for. He particularly avoided ones of Iceland, instead spending time on ones of scenery—meaningless nothings that may or may not exist anymore.

It was hidden at the bottom of the seventh box he looked in. Blowing gently on the front cover, he muttered to himself, "Dusty already…"

Whatever trip down memory lane Norway must have planned for another time a month earlier was definitely soiled now.

The Norwegian felt a pair of arms wrap around him, and a head peered over his shoulder. "Find what you were lookin' for, Norge?"

"Get off me and go make love to your axe, Anko," Norway sighed, pointing a thumb to the axe that lay in the corner of the room.

Denmark brightened, striding over to his beloved weapon of choice and excitedly gripping the handle. There were still imprints of his fingers from when he held it so tightly. "Aw, man!" He laughed, swinging it in an empty space. "I can't wait to get my hands on someone and take this baby for a spin…"

"We should go," Norway muttered hurriedly, checking his watch. "It's almost 11—we agreed to meet Sweden and Finland in the empty warehouse a few blocks away."

"Norge, why can't we just meet in a casual, non-creepy place?" The tall blonde whined, now sporting his axe hung over his shoulder, the little crown dangling from the end of the handle.

"Because, Anko, if someone sees us that could mean even worse trouble…"

He smirked, following Norway up the stairs to the main floor of their house. "You know, it's nice to see you take initiative for once, Norge…"

The Norwegian scoffed, peering over his shoulder. "Please. If I didn't, who would? Certainly I couldn't let you handle this. Iceland is my brother, after all."

Denmark's face turned serious rather quickly. "Don't think so, Nor…Ice is like a little brother to all of us. Sweden and Finland wouldn't be coming if they didn't think so, too." He brightened again, adding, "Plus, if just the two of us went, we'd be goners."

"Get moving Anko, I don't have time for this," Norway called, already halfway out the front door with nothing more than his spell book. "Get in the car and drive."


"Hellooooo?" Denmark called out to the empty warehouse, listening as his footsteps echoed eerily. "Tino, Berwaald?"

"Shut up, Mathias," Norway muttered quietly, even his subtle hiss echoing slightly.

Across the wide room, the two could just barely make out another two pairs of footsteps heading towards the center. Norway sighed in relief as Sweden and Finland emerged from the shadows, each holding the one weapon they desired.

Norway held out his spell book in both arms, flipping through the pages while the other three Nordics circled around him. Denmark huffed, saying things like, "Hurry up, Nikolaus!" and "Come on, we don't have all day…"

He had to take his time in flipping the pages and scanning them, because if he didn't, he might miss the page or tear it. That was the last thing any of them wanted right now.

"Ah…here we go," he exhaled in triumph, forefinger pointed on the spell he was looking for. "All right…Berwald, Tino, Mathias, just stand in a circle around me and touch each other's shoulders, then place one hand on me…oh, and Anko, try not to hurt anyone…"

With an annoyed huff and a glare directed towards Sweden from Denmark, they all did as they were told.

"Lastly, when I'm reading the spell, think about nothing but Iceland. If you think about anything else for even a brief moment, it will mess up the destination. Now…" he took a deep breath and gripped the sides of the book a bit harder. "Where we are, people are filled with glee…but where he remains, he needs set free…take my power and give to another…dear spirits above, send me to my brother."

Each of the nations held their breath, filling all of their thoughts with nothing but Iceland. Difficult as it were, they all closed their eyes, and suddenly felt a rush. When their eyes opened, they were all lying down in the sand.

"Ugh…is everyone alright?" Tino sighed, rubbing his head and sitting up. "No one is hurt?"

"Nope, we're fine," Nikolaus muttered, spitting out a mouthful of sand. "Ech, god, this is gross…"

"Nor," Mathias mumbled under his breath as his friend looked up, "take in your surroundings."

Nikolaus sat up, looking around the four Nordics carefully. From what he could take in, the scenery was much like a tropical island, palm trees littering the edges. All of them immediately felt overheated—the heat was overwhelming compared to what they usually faced up North.

The Dane was already scrambling to his feet, undoing several buttons of his shirt. "We need to find a cooler place—now. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one going to explode."

"Aha, yeah," Tino agreed awkwardly, standing up and starting to walk. "Come on, it's already dark out. We should find a place to sleep for the night."

"D'you think anyone knows we're here?" The tallest blonde stood up, wiping some sand out of the creases in his shirt.

He received a shrug from Nikolaus as he continued to follow the other 3 Nordics. "Probably not."


"Sir…?" A quiet voice comes into the room, approaching mildly. "The remaining Nordics have arrived to the island—"

"I know," a stronger voice interrupts him, and the servent winces. "They came just a half hour ago."

His hand lingers restlessly on a clipboard as he stutters, "Sh-Should we use the overhead loudspeaker tonight?"

The larger man sits hunched in a metal fold-up chair, looking excitedly at the observation camera's recordings. "Not tonight. Give them a little time to feel 'safe' and 'at home'…we start the explanation tomorrow at noon."

"Yes, sir…" the quieter voice disappears into the air, taking its owner with it. The door shuts with a squeak, and the man sitting in the chair chuckles.

He never figured this would happen. And to think, they all came of their own free will…this will be a good show, he thinks. Yes, this will be a good show.


"Guys!" Tino calls out, one hand cupped around his mouth. "Over here. I found a good place we can stay."

Mathias, Nikolaus, and Berwald all huddle over to where Tino was standing at the mouth of a cave. As they peered in, they saw that it was fairly sized and would hold them all safely til morning.

"Everyone go in and get settled," the Norwegian ordered as the rest file into the shelter. "Tino and Berwald, if you could set up the sleeping bags, that'd be nice. Mathias, start a fire."

"But Nor, it's way too warm already!" Mathias whined, looking up from his place on the floor.

"Actually…" Tino paused, the sleeping bag still half unfolded. "It is kind of cool in here. Plus, it's a bit dark, too…"

Nikolaus nodded at the Dane, saying firmly, "Exactly. Start a fire."

It took a while of setting up, but after it was all finished, all the Nordics sat in sleeping bags up to their waists around the fire.

Tino was the first to speak up again as they stared into the flickering heat. "We have food, right…?"

Berwald nodded. "Mm. We won't have a problem with supplies here."

They all sat in silence for a bit longer, all seemingly mesmerized by the flames. Nikolaus glanced back at the sky, and the moon shone back down at him. "Okay, before we get some rest, we need a plan. To keep it clear, our first and number one priority on this island is to find Iceland and get him home." All of them nodded.

"I think it's safe to assume that no other nations on this island are prepared—…you know, if this is where the others are," Mathias sighed, running a hand through his rough, wild blonde hair.

"There isn't any reason why the others would be in different places. The circumstances of the disappearances seem too similar for the captures to be different," Berwald muttered, crossing his arms.

"Yeah…" Tino sighed, resting his head on Berwald's arm. "So basically, Mathias, what you're saying is if we should find any other missing countries, we update them on the outside world?"

"Mhmm. They also might not have many supplies either, so we should try and give them food and stuff like that," he reasoned with the others. They all looked at each other and nodded.

"Also," Nikolaus added, "assuming the size of the island is large, the others might not know some of the nations are here. Especially Matthew Williams—you know how often he gets left out."

"So to wrap things up, find Iceland and keep the others safe and alive," Tino summarized, clapping his hands. "Done and done."

"Now can we sleep, Nor…?" The Dane whined, rolling his head back. "I'm fucking exhausted. And we need to get up early tomorrow, anyway."

The Norwegian nodded and yawned, shimmying the sleeping bag up to his shoulders. "Yeah. Keep the fire going…night guys…"

They all exchanged their goodnights, and fell back onto the hard cave floor, tired and anxious.


"Mmh…Nikolaus…" Mathias muttered sleepily, scooting closer to his best friend quietly.

"…What, Anko…? It's too late to…talk…" Nikolaus squinted his eyes open to find a pair of bright, but foggy blue ones staring back at him. "Ugh…I'm not in the mood…"

Instead of coming onto him, like Nikolaus was almost certain he would do, the Dane just slipped his arms out of the sleeping bag and opened them invitingly. As late as it was, Mathias was always just so damn warm, and Nikolaus couldn't resist. He complied happily, shifting into his comrade's arms.

"Nikolaus…" Mathias breathed quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping Swede and Finn. "Do you…think Ice is alright…?"

There was a moment of silence hanging in the air, and Nikolaus muttered tiredly, "If he's not, he'll get an ass-kicking…later…"

The Dane chuckled to himself, nuzzling his deflated hair to the shorter man in his arms. "Sometimes…I feel like a parent to Ice. Or…a protective big brother…"

"Mm…" Nikolaus murmured in agreement. "A big, stupid, older brother…"

Mathias smiled silently, tilting the Norwegians head up to look him in the eye. "Even like this, you're no less sarcastic…"

Their lips fell together in a quiet hush, moving together noiselessly for a moment or so. A small whimper escaped Nikolaus' lips, and he broke off first, catching his breath quickly.

"We need sleep, Anko…" he kept his voice a whisper, in fear that someone, anyone could be watching. "But…I can't fall asleep…"

"Nikolaus…just stop worrying…" the Dane sighed, giving into fatigue and resting his head against the back of his sleeping bag. "Just for tonight…alright? Just sleep for a little bit…and pretend none of this ever happened. Be innocent for one more night…"

All Mathias got for a reply was a muted, "…Stupid Anko…" before his partner fell asleep.

He stared at the ceiling of the cave for what felt like forever. And lying there, old memories sluggishly moving through his head, Mathias felt old. Ancient, practically. But also, he felt it was better to be a nation in some ways—he didn't have to let his home country protect him in every way. Instead of cowering in his house, he was out here—taking action and getting things done.

His eyes rolled over to across the fire, next to Tino. His medium sized bag was lying across the cold floor, and Mathias knew what was inside. He shuttered, thinking of all the times Tino used to drag him on hunting trips.

Mathias hated guns. They were too modern for him. He spent all his life wielding an axe. Even if it was a whole lot more brutal, he got more of a thrill from it. Always on the front lines with his men—that was Denmark, all right. Swinging an axe right beside them. If he was going to die, he would die a man of honor.

Be innocent for one night more, huh…? He recalled he'd muttered only a half hour earlier to his now sleeping lover, who looked as innocent as can be.

The Dane sighed, letting himself go into the exhaustion and fatigue. Some rest would do him good. And right now, holding the Norwegian like he was seemed too blissful to pass up.


Author's Comments

Wow, I'm glad the ending of this one turned out the way it did. I've had this one planned out for a couple of days...

See those random guys in the middle there? Remember that.

Sorry about the DenNor at the end - if you're not a fan, well, if you look through my gallary, it's kind of obvious that DenNor is my OTP. So whatever...

Mathias is my name for Denmark, and Nikolaus is my name for Norway, just so you know. In case you haven't read my other stuff.

I would love to hear what people think of this one. I haven't gotten many watches on this story, but if I could just get one review, I'd appreciate it. I love getting them so much and hearing what you have to say.

- Maddy