Story: Spellbound

Author: ShrapnelGirl

Exclaimer: All characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Author's comments: Here's the sixth chapter of Spellbound. Damn internet broke down, and in the middle of a snowstorm to boot. I'm updating today because I don't know if I'll be in town this weekend or if I'll have internet at home tomorrow. So, enjoy this early chapter guys!

We'll get to meet next chapter. Also: A major time-skip. And gasp! There's a twist in the plot! Who would have thought?

For those interested, I am also starting another story called 'On the Rise and Developing Rapidly'. That story will focus on the growing friendship between Iceland and Russia – a special treat because this year marks the 70th anniversary of formal political relations between the two nations! It won't affect my update schedule for this story though, since I'm only writing the other one when I feel exceptionally inspired.

*Ehemm* Shameless self advertising over. *Ehemm*

Now, please enjoy this chapter.


Chapter 6 – The Decision – Reykjavík, winter of 1859

The Nordics gathered in Iceland's cellar late one evening. In just an hour, full moon would descend and the nations wanted to make sure Iceland was securely fastened before then. Everyone but Iceland was heavily armed; the agitated candlelight reflected in axes and swords, mimicking the mental state of everyone present.

Iceland lay on the bed with closed eyes, trying to block out the jingling of the chains Norway and Denmark were fastening him with. Fae gave instructions in a low voice, almost a whisper. She had the most experience when it came to securing Iceland for a moon-filled night.

"When we are ready, we'll have to draw the curtains," Fae said. "It lets the moonlight in."

"If we kept him away from the moonlight, would he still turn?" Finland asked.

"Yes," Norway said. "But it would take longer and bring much more pain… I think. At least, that's how it is for werewolves."

"I also get a lot more tired afterwards," Iceland said. "It's not nice. It's better to just embrace the moonlight."

Someone hummed. A long while after, everyone stayed silent.

The Nordics had gathered pillows and chairs around Iceland's bed, and when moonrise drew near, they made themselves comfortable. Someone touched Iceland's forehead, brushed his hair out of his face. Iceland opened his eyes.

It was Norway.

"Lillebror…" he whispered, and although his face was as blank as ever, Iceland could see a flicker of sadness in his eyes. Norway's touch lingered for only a second before he withdrew his hand.

Iceland felt something heavy in the pit of his stomach. Was it fear? Iceland had turned many times before - so many times before. He had even turned in front of Fae and Den, and most of his hapless victims had recognized him as the silver-haired poet from Reykjavík before he tore them apart. But turning in front of all the Nordics, in front of his brother and oldest friend Norway?

Iceland could feel his hands start shaking. Stubbornly, he forced himself to calm down.

I won't end my life as a coward, he swore in his mind. I won't shake. I won't let them see me being nervous. I want them to remember me as the ice-cube they've always thought I was, cold and unfeeling, and unafraid…

That way, they might not be as sad when they would be forced to end his life.

"It is time," Norway said.

Iceland drew a deep breath. As he breathed out, he got rid of the emotions that waged battle within him: breathed them out one by one until he felt as calm and empty as he always acted. He didn't care for a single thing in the world. Suddenly, the sadness in his brother's eyes didn't affect Iceland anymore.

"I am ready," he said.

On Norway's cue, Sweden drew the curtains.


A ray of silvery moonlight met with silver hair, caressed its way down Iceland's face, meeting his chest. Blue eyes turned red – a mischievous grin spread over a previously blank face. Iceland's other self let out a deep, rough laughter.

The Nordics readied their weapons.

"Good evening," Dark-Iceland said, casting a sideways glance to Norway before eyeing the other Nordics. He mustered them each and every one at a leisured speed, his grin widening with every new person that met his glance with a cold stare. Only Fae turned her gaze away. "We have quite the gathering here tonight. What's the occasion?"

Denmark hardened his grip on his axe, fury ablaze in his eyes. Dark-Iceland let another laugh escape him.

"You have your own mind, beast?" Norway asked. He had a book of spells open in his lap and a delicate dagger in his right hand, ready to strike.

"I do," answered the monster. "I am the very darkness of Iceland´s soul, the part of him that wishes only death and destruction… I am inseparable from him."

"We'll see about that." Norway's facial features darkened. Both his and Dark-Iceland's gazes were drawn to his spell book.

"Norwegian magic," Dark-Iceland said, clearly amused.

"And Greenlandic," Greenland said, gesturing towards a bag beside her chair.

"Ah," Dark-Iceland said. "How scary." He didn't sound the least bit afraid. "And you wish to try your spells on me? You are aware that whatever you do would only affect your dear, beloved Iceland, right?"

"You underestimate us, monster," Norway spat.

Dark-Iceland pouted.

"How rude…" he whined. "You seem to enjoy calling me beast and monster. That hurts you know… It's not like I don't have a name."

"You do?" an amazed Åland asked. "What is it?" He sat right at the edge of his seat, his Morningstar resting casually and almost forgotten on the floor beside him. The boy's eyes were transfixed on his cursed uncle and unlike the other Nordics, he seemed to feel more interest in the monster before him than fear or hatred.

Sweden and Finland both looked at their charge with a mixture of fear and anger.

Dark-Iceland smirked, red eyes turning to Åland.

"I do. I picked it myself," he said. "It's: Laki."

"Loki? Like the god? Th-" Åland managed to ask before Finland put his hand on the boy´s mouth, shutting him up.

"No. Laki, like Lakagýgar," Laki corrected, a little too casually for the Nordics' taste. "You know: The volcanic fissure that erupted some decades ago, wiping out half of Iceland's population and life-force?" He said that like it was an amusing joke he had been dying to tell someone.

Åland gasped. "That's evil!" he managed to shout before Sweden, too, tried to cover his mouth to shut him up. Held firmly in the grasps of two nations, young Åland was forced to stay silent for the rest of the interrogation, much to his displeasure.

"We don't care for your sick humour, monster," Denmark growled. "We just want to know how to get rid of you."

Laki cocked an eyebrow.

"Get rid of me?" he asked. "Now why would you want that? I'm much more fun than that wimp Iceland…"

"Don't you dare speak of him that way!" Denmark warned, half standing up from his seat and pointing his axe towards Laki.

"Don't," Norway said. Denmark looked at his former companion.

"That… thing, is just so damn cocky! How can I not get annoyed?"

"He's riling you up on purpose," Norway said.

Laki laughed heartily, proving Norway's point. Denmark growled and sat down again, turning his face away from the monster.

"Talking to that thing doesn't seem to be working," he said. "I say the rest of us clear out and let our two magicians do their thing, as we planned."

Finland and Sweden immediately agreed. Åland was growing restless between them, and the two nations did not want the boy to draw any more of the monster's attention that he already had.

Fae also stood up.

"Going so soon?" Laki asked, alarming sweetness in his voice. "Little sister, won't you stay? See how they treat your brother? How they make him squirm?" Fae firmly ignored the monster. "He can feel all the pain that I feel," Laki said, chuckling. "If they try to torture me for information, Iceland will feel it just as much as I. We are one and the same, after all."

"Let's go," Fae said. She ushered the other Nordics out, refusing to look at Laki.

"Magic hurts!" Laki screamed after her. "You know they do! Are you really letting them do this to him?"

He was answered only by the door slamming shut.

"I'll leave you two to it," Denmark said, glaring at the chained monster. "Be sure to get some answers out of our Darklander here. And if you can, fix Iceland."

He left the room as well.

Laki's derailed laughter rang throughout the house when Norway and Greenland etched closer to him with fierce determination on their faces. Words of ancient magic echoed in the room, bright light lit the walls and the body on the bed squirmed in its chains. Laughter turned to silence - silence to screams.


It was a long night.

Sweden and Finland huddled together in the living room, Åland between them, and took turns singing lullabies to block out the screams.

Denmark lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with a blank face. On the bedside table, several bottles of alcohol gradually emptied.

In her and Greenland's room, Fae buried her face into her pillow, choking out her own sobs.

All waited for morning with a mixture of dread and hope.


When the Nordics, minus Iceland, gathered in the dining-room for breakfast, everyone had dark rings under their eyes. Questioning stares were directed at Norway and Greenland. They both shook their heads in unison.

"We tried everything," Norway said.

Gloom filled the room.

"How's Icy doing?" Finland asked.

"Resting," Greenland answered.

The Nordics ate in silence.


Iceland woke up when he felt warmth on his face. Opening his eyes, he was blinded by the bright light shining into them. He moaned and turned to the side, not daring to brave the sunlight until he was sure his eyes had gotten used to it.

- screams still echoed in the back of his mind -

They had left the curtains on the window undrawn, allowing sunlight to fill the small cellar. It must have been around noon. It would get dark again in an hour or so. Iceland shivered. It was cold.

- it hadn´t worked -

Someone had undone his chains, he saw. They now lay useless next to his bed, their pink imprints still aching on Iceland's limbs, trails of blood dried on his skin.

- all was lost -

He didn't bother getting up.

Svo þetta voru endalokin...

Iceland eyed the blanket that had fallen to the floor while he slept. Should he bother getting it? It was pretty cold… Norway must have put it on him before he left the cellar in the morning. Iceland couldn't imagine Greenland doing such a thing…

But then again, he hadn't believed the two of them to be capable of doing what they had done to him last night. The spells were meant for the monster, Iceland knew that. They were meant to help him. But no matter how much the monster screamed and begged, no matter how it writhed and fought about in pain - the cold stares from the two Arctic nations never wavered, their hands never faltered in their ceaseless casting of spells…

Iceland startled when he heard the doors to the cellar open.

"You awake?" Sweden asked.

Iceland contemplated just closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep. He would gain a few more minutes that way, but what use was that to him now? The other Nordics had probably already made their decision. Stalling would only prolong Iceland's suffering.

"I am," he answered, turning his head to face the Swede.

"I brought you something," Sweden said. He walked towards the bed, a plate of steaming porridge in his hands. "You better eat before you come up," he said.

Iceland nodded and took the plate.

"Thank you," he said, real gratitude in his voice.

Sweden grunted something in response before leaving the cellar.

They probably wanted to have him ready to hear their decision as soon as he came up. Facing Iceland for longer than needed must be too unbearable for them. Treating him kindly, bearing masks of normality, knowing that they held his fate in their hands... No. It was better then to just get it over with.

Iceland ate his porridge automatically. His mind was blank.

Whatever he would hear when he faced the other Nordics, Iceland had already accepted it…


… only, he hadn't. Because what he heard from the Nordics was something that had never even crossed his mind.

"The decision has been made," Denmark announced.

Just as during their last family-meeting, the Nordics were gathered around Iceland's dining-room table, and in the same seats no less. Iceland stared at the table in front of him, waiting for the words that would either imprison him or end his life.

"Since chains are able to hold you," Denmark continued, "and since you only ever turn at full moon, our decision is…" Here Denmark smiled at Iceland. "To do nothing at all."

Iceland stared at his ruler in disbelief.

"Do nothing at all?" he asked. "But, the safety of my people…"

"You will live your life like normal between full moons," Finland said. "But during full moons you will be chained up and guarded by one of us. No one has to know your secret. We'll keep it to ourselves."

"That way, no one will try to kill you," Norway said. "And you won't be able to kill anyone else."

The other Nordics nodded in unison, their facial expressions now lighter than they had been during the past three weeks.

Iceland stared at the wall in front of him, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

"I get to live a normal life?" he asked. "But… I had been sure…"

"Norway and Greenland will continue looking for spells to cure you," Sweden said. "And the rest of us will look for information as well."

"My nisse is getting ready to travel between magical beings, asking them for help," Norway said.

"But…" Iceland began, but was cut off by Finland.

"My Sami people know some pretty powerful spells," he said. "I'll ask them for advice once I get back home."

"And I will ask Russia for some spells of his. He's got hundreds of indigenous peoples and many powerful magical creatures of his own," Åland chirped in. "And maybe he can ask for some spells from China… But of course I won't tell either of them what they really are for."

Finland and Sweden looked at each other with stern faces, but said nothing. It seemed that the two of them had already decided to let Åland help, despite their fears for his well-being. The boy beamed with pride. This was probably the first time in his life that his help was direly needed.

"And I can try to talk to England, Ireland, Scotland and the gang…" Denmark offered. "Even though they probably won't help without knowing the reason."

Iceland could feel his eyes watering up. He had always been opposed to showing weakness, to ask for help. But he still couldn't help feeling touched that everyone was so eager to help him, to feel gratitude that they were ready to take on such burdens for his sake.

He was so tired, so tired of dealing with everything on his own.

"That's so much trouble for you guys," he protested weakly. "Wouldn't it be better to just…"

"Our decision is final," Denmark said. To further emphasize his words, Denmark banged his axe on the floor. He seemed to like doing that at every occasion, Iceland noticed.

Iceland stood up from his chair.

"I… I…" He pulled at the bow around his neck, a pink flush spreading over his cheeks. "Ta-takk…" he stammered.

The Nordics smiled. Even the corners of Greenland's mouth turned slightly upwards, and Norway was uncharacteristically beaming with joy.

"Love you too, Icy-boy," Denmark said and winked.


To celebrate their decision, the Nordics decided to have a feast. Sweden and Finland filled the dinner table with stews, soups, meat and baked potatoes – they must have been cooking ever since the Nordics had reached their decision. The eight nations sat at the table for hours, eating and talking and laughing – yes, laughing. Even Greenland. Even Norway. And Iceland…

He laughed the hardest of them all - laughed at every joke, funny or not.

During the middle of the feast however, Iceland noticed one nation that didn't look happy at all. Fae sat in her seat, still as a mouse, looking glum. Iceland wondered why no one else had noticed her odd mood… But then again, the other Nordics usually didn't notice her at all. She was too small and quiet and fiercely independent – even Iceland often overlooked her in a crowded room.

Was she unhappy about the decision?

He didn't dare approach her to ask. Fae was scared of him, and Iceland had promised himself to give her space, lest he lose her forever.

Perhaps it would be better if she just hated him and left him alone. As soon as the thought was born in Iceland's mind, the laughter stifled in his throat. The other Nordics… His family… They were ready to go to such lengths to help him. What if he got so grateful that he started loving them, thus bringing them under his curse? A primitive fear grew deep in Iceland's heart. He went silent, not even smiling at the other Nordic' stories and jokes. He would need to be extra careful to distance himself from them. He would need to be extra careful not to feel anything for them. He'd need…

Independence.

The answer came to him like a revelation.

If Iceland gained independence, he would no longer be as connected to his family as before. He would be of no more use to Denmark, thus effectively stopping the Dane's visits to Iceland, and he would no longer be in the same household as Fae and Greenland, giving him the opportunity to isolate himself from them. Sweden, Åland and Finland already had enough on their plate, and Norway…

Iceland clenched his jaw. He'd need to live with the guilt of it, he had no other choice: Iceland would need to hurt his brother deep to create the necessary rift between them…

There was only one way for him to hurt the Norwegian enough to stifle his love for his younger brother, and that was to denounce any relations between them. Iceland would need to tell Norway that he didn't see them as brothers anymore, that the blood-bonds they had always believed in were only an illusion…

He'd need to break away from his family, the only family he had ever had and that was prepared to go to such lengths to help him, in order to keep them safe.

I'll start with independence, Iceland thought. Then, I'll take the next step towards isolation.


Later that night, when everyone was getting ready to go to bed, Iceland was startled by a delicate hand that gripped the sleeve of his shirt tightly. He looked around to see Fae, face turned away from him.

"We need to talk," she murmured. "Alone."

Iceland nodded.

"Let's go outside," he said. It was the only place available that wasn't full of drunk and sleepy Nordics.

It was dark and cold outside, with strong wind blowing dunes of snow around. Iceland and Fae had to go around the front of the house to find an alley where the wind was not strong enough to blow them away. The leaned against the wall of the small stone house, staying close enough to hear each other - but not too close. There still was an atmosphere of fear and awkwardness between them.

"I want to help you!" Fae screamed just as the wind picked up. "But I don't have any friends to ask for help, and my magic is not strong enough to help either."

"You have already done enough," Iceland screamed back, but his words were blown away by an exceptionally strong gust of wind.

Fae seemed to have understood his protest anyway.

"You are my brother," she screamed. "And I love you."

Iceland froze at her words.

This is bad, he thought. Very bad. I was hoping she was frightened enough to leave me.

"I thought you hated me," Iceland screamed.

Fae ignored his words.

"I want to stay with you," she yelled. "And take care of you. Even when you turn."

Iceland shook his head.

"You can't," he yelled. "It's not safe."

"I don't want to lose you," she replied.

"You'd be miserable," Iceland screamed. He choked slightly when the wind blew snow into his mouth.

Fae leaned in closer, until her face was close enough to Iceland's for her to speak to him almost normally.

"I was afraid of you because I didn't understand. But now I know the extent of your curse. I want to stay with you. I don't want you to have to deal with this on your own. It's not right!"

"If I start loving you, you will be cursed as well," Iceland reminded her.

At that moment, Fae's blue eyes bore more determination in them than Iceland had ever seen from his stubborn sister. Her silvery hair danced in front of her face and for a second Iceland almost felt as if he was staring into his own face. The siblings had always been alike: stubborn, independent, quiet… Denmark had sometimes joked about not being able to tell the two apart.

Regardless: Iceland had always thought his sister was too naive and too delicate to understand his pain. She was older than him, but smaller, friendlier… Despite her age, he always called her little sister, and Fae always smiled at that – amused, as if it were a private joke between them. She had never once tried to remind Iceland that agewise, she had every right to demand his respect.

Iceland now saw that everything he had once thought to be weakness in Fae's character – her love, her friendliness, her endless patience – was in fact strength.

It was hopeless to argue with her.

Iceland's eyes grew hard.

"I will ignore you the best I can," he warned. "And be as cold towards you as if you were a stranger – no, an enemy. And don't you ever forget that I don't love you. I can't."

Fae nodded. She had a heart-wrenching smile on her face, frozen tears in the corners of her eyes.

"I don't care," she said. "I'll love you enough for both of us."

"Very well," Iceland said, face blank. "You'll get the guestroom."

Before Iceland had any time to react, Fae embraced him in a tight hug. She let go of him almost instantly, flashed him a half-hearted smile and then ran ahead to the house.

As Iceland watched her go, he couldn't help but to feel he had somehow doomed her.

If only I was strong enough to deny her, Iceland thought. His face was getting numb from the cold. Iceland turned to face the wind: He grimaced as it lashed at his cheeks, now burning from the biting frost. Iceland closed his eyes. Let the cold reach my heart and keep her safe, he begged in his mind. Let the wind blow away my fatigue, my hopelessness. Let me someday gain the strength to leave everyone behind…

He opened his eyes, turned his gaze towards the heavens, as if there was someone up there to hear his wish.

Let me grow strong enough to never love.


Less than a hundred years later, Iceland gained his independence - but it didn't happen the way he had wanted, nor would it have the consequences he had anticipated…


Author's comments: Thank you everyone who faved, followed and commented! A special thanks to those who voiced their desires for the future chapters of this story!

A few of you have already sent in your suggestions for the name of the elven queen. If anyone still wants to send their suggestions, or if those that already have sent theirs want to send in more names, this is your last chance. Her name will be revealed in the next chapter!

Just so you guys know, the lucky winner will not just be mentioned in the story, but get to take part in it… ;) I'm not saying anything else on that matter until next week!