A/n: Soundtrack for this chapter: Banner of Victory sung by the USSR Folk Chorus.

Chapter 10: Shalom, let there be peace

When Denmark came to again, there existed a pleasant stillness to the world. Five long days he remained cloistered away. Five long days with no food and little water. A voice infiltrated his fortress. A welcome conversation to be heard.

"Yes, Denmark and Norway are the last two." It sounded like England. The Allies had arrived, moving like a pardon across the continent. "Denmark should be around somewhere." And they were looking for him.

He had no voice left with which to cry out. After a few feeble attempts to free himself, he devised a new plan.

"Denmark! Can you hear me? Nazi Germany's gone!" England called again from mere steps away. Welcome words indeed, the most welcome in the six years and one day robbed from them all.

Denmark twisted about in what little space he had and grabbed a chunk of brick and pounded stone against stone and England noticed.

"How long have you been there?" A pause during which Denmark didn't speak. "No matter. Time to come out and learn… or relearn how to live." A slab rattled over him. "Okay Denmark, see this piece I'm moving? I'll pull and you push. We'll have you free in no time."

Denmark somehow found the energy to contort so that he sat on his knees and pushed and pushed with all he had. And then… and then he fell forward into the bright wide world. Immediately he shielded his eyes against the blinding daylight.

England rested a hand on his shoulder until he stirred and opened his eyes on what promised to be a more peaceful tomorrow. He turned his head to England and found the other country offering him a canteen of water and half a loaf of bread. Automatically, he swallowed the food whole without bothering to chew, like a duck, and drank the water greedily. Then came the feeling of being a person again.

England pulled him upright and kept him steady as he panned over the rubble… and the things to be seen!

The Soviet flag fluttered atop the Reichstag. A banner of victory.

And America! With France! Chatting amicably on a road as if carefree afternoon strolls happened every day.

Poland too. Eating and smiling among fellow Slavs.

"You… we… We won?"

"Won might be the wrong word." England said. "Yes, we beat Nazi Germany."

Denmark wanted to say something to him, but he didn't know what.

"Will you be okay? If you're recovering, I need to tell Norway help's on its way. Do you mind?" England asked.

Denmark shook his head no. Not at all! A thousand times no!

So he and England parted ways and Denmark went to meet America, who used his time as the hero of the hour to the fullest.

"And then my plane twisted into a nosedive… zoooooooom!" America plunged his hand downward for emphasis.

France just looked bored. She shot Denmark a dull look as if to say 'This is America all right. Better get used to him because he'll be around for a very long while.'

"And Belgium was all," he pinched his nose to recreate that extra high-pitched tone. "'Help me! Help meeee!'" America hopped from toe to toe while France laughed politely. "Then after I blew up that Nazi scum's stronghold in Brussels with my impeccable aim, he called me his hero! And you!" He planted a kiss on France's hand. "You were amazing, sweet stuff! I didn't know a girl could drive a tank so good! And when you said 'you want some cheese with your whine?' HA!"

So that was America? The strongest of all the Allies?

France took Denmark's approach as a chance to break away. "You mean so well, mon ami. Look, here's a new country for you to bother. Go see what he thinks of your stories."

America took the bait with a quickness and squinted at Denmark, considering. "Who the hell are you?" He looked back at France. "Is this one Netherlands?"

"I'm Denmark."

"Denmark, huh?" America recoiled in consternation and then whined in his best little boy voice. "Daaaaaaad, why is Nazi Germany's little lapdog at my victory party?" Denmark puffed up in indignation, but never got a chance to retaliate. From a short distance away, an airborne piece of rubble knocked America's helmet askew. Both he and Denmark turned in tandem to find Russia bounding towards them.

"England!" Russia shouted. "Get back over here and teach your boy some manners!" He pried into a space between the two. "How about a more proper greeting while we wait? America, this is Denmark. The only one among us who understood that victory comes not from how many of your enemies you kill, but how many lives you save."

Denmark tucked his head into his shoulder, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh!" America said as if a divine revelation had reached down smacked him right in the face. "You're that Denmark. That was pretty cool of you… still have some way to go before you're me, but you're off to a good start. Do you know Iceland?"

"I'm almost afraid to ask." Denmark replied.

"He left you this. I told him it was okay." America passed him a note from a typewriter, complete with an eagle seal signaling America's unequivocal approval:

Heil there, Denmark!

I have fantastic news that I just can't wait to share. America's been so nice to me and gave me permission to be my own country... I think my great flying skills helped his choice. It seemed wrong to let you hear it from anyone else. One less thing for you to worry about, I suppose.

-Iceland

Denmark crumbled the paper and filed that under 'things to be dealt with later' now that he had the luxury to think about 'later'.

"See Russia," America gave the other country a companionable clap on the back. "This is why you and I make such a great team. You always introduce a new angle on things to me. Why, if we wanted, we could build a rocket to the moon with my brains and your strength! Let's stay best friends forever!"

"Don't think too hard or you might sprain something. Don't get caught up in the moment, either. Unlike socialism, some things aren't meant to last forever." Russia replied, giving America's helmet a chummy jostle.

In the midst of their fraternal tiff, England reappeared with the news that Nazi Germany fled to Norway, who requested immediate support. America cocked his gun and looked ready to attack, but Russia stopped him short and smiled wryly.

"Pardon me, gentlemen. If none of you mind, it is my honor and privilege to be the one to assist Norway flushing this asshole out of Europe once and for all!" His tone left no room for negotiation. The other three watched him go.

"Once and for all…" America mused, "no more Nazi Germany. But I have so much fun beating up the bad guys. When do we do it again?"

"Hopefully never." Denmark said. Nazi Germany lost the war, but none of them truly won it. The six years and one day were but a blip in their centuries long lives, but the scars were scored into their hearts indefinitely.

Then and there, an idea hit him. Wordlessly, he left America and England to tend to other countries as they surveyed the damage and formulated plans for their brand new lives that had yet to begin.

He walked to his pantry and in it discovered the three remaining beers and threw the meager provisions in whatever potato sack was within reach. He climbed over the piles of debris freely this time and beelined to Sweden's house. The other country sat basking in the sun, like a lizard, more content than Denmark had seen him all century.

"I never did properly thank you for your help." Denmark said, offering him one of the beers. Sweden accepted the gift and tapped Denmark with the base.

"If you want to thank me, keep your beer and take off that damn swastika once and for all!"

"Oh." Denmark turned again to the red and black armband that pained him so much at first that he grew not to notice. Something that now torn, tattered, and dirty he still afforded too much respect. He slid it off and deliberated what best to do with it. Forever it would leave an invisible trench dug deep in his heart, more for what he never accomplished than guilt over what he did. Was he to keep it, a cursed relic from a past era? Burn it? In the end, he dropped it among the wreckage surrounding them all so it too could be recycled into something better. "Now will you accept the beer?"

"Only you would manage to find beer at a time like this." Sweden regarded the bottle. It was dusty, its label faded. "What kind is it, anyways?"

"The best kind you've ever had." Denmark grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his feet. "Come on! Let's get to the beach and wait for Norway."

And they didn't wait long. Scarcely an hour passed before Norway and Russia advanced down the coast, each profusely congratulating the other.

"You were the best." Norway said.

"No, you were the best." Russia replied.

"I. Said. You."

"No, you."

"You."

"Shut up." Russia growled, soon as the four of them stood close enough to constitute a cluster. "You stopped Nazi Germany from building a nuclear bomb and sabotaged his navy time and time again. You," he turned to Sweden, "provided us with critical intelligence that allowed us to execute Operation: Neptune to end that bastard's empire." Finally, he smiled at Denmark. "And you… without stopping Nazi Germany's supply shipments, we may never have been able to pull it off. Thank you, my friends."

Russia headed back down south and left the three Scandinavians in easy relaxation. Nazi Germany had been right about another thing- even through death, came a sense of catharsis and rebirth.

Denmark broke up the initial awkwardness first by passing Norway the remaining beer and second, by opening his own. The other two followed suit and they clicked the bottles with a cry of 'Skål' just like normal.

Sweden pulled a face and swallowed the brew reluctantly. "Wow! I'm sorry. This stuff is awful."

"It's great!" Denmark said.

"Yeah, it tastes like…" Norway groped for the proper words.

"It tastes like the end of a war." Denmark finished. Then they settled down near the waves and talked on everything and nothing, having the best time no matter where the tide took the conversation. They spoke of the weather, of the upcoming fishing season, of vacations past and future, of everything but the fighting. Its very mention could only serve to give Nazi Germany life all over again.

Suddenly and wordlessly, Norway downed the rest of his beer and walked off. Denmark called for him and followed. Sweden rolled his eyes and did the same. But Norway ignored them both. He returned home, located some nails and a hammer and a scrap of paper, scribbled something and then headed to his naval harbor whereupon he began hammer.

"What does it say?" Sweden asked.

"It says 'Stengt på grunn av lykke.' Can't you read?" Denmark teased.

Sweden smiled an impish smile and gave him a playful shove. It caught Denmark entirely off his guard and his arms windmilled as he fought a losing battle against gravity. Then he fell backwards into the frigid and brackish water. The cold clawed at him as he climbed back to the surface and drew in a huge, gratifying breath. He fanned around at the surface for a spell, and then took to splashing water at both of them over their half-hearted protests. And Denmark laughed. He laughed so heartily that he nearly slipped beneath the waves because he forgot to do anything else but laugh.

That was it- the pinnacle of life. The point in life which one can achieve no higher state of being. All that he could do was laugh and play freely with Norway and Sweden as best friends should. Then Norway had to ruin it all.

He knelt down and beckoned him over in a come hither motion. "Out of the water, you. I don't want you to catch cold." Norway sounded stern, but his eyes and body language smiled. Denmark dove and reemerged next to the dock. He held both arms aloft, kicking his feet to keep upright and allowed his friends to tow him back to dry land where he laughed some more.

When the three stood upright once more, staring off into the vast expanse of the North Atlantic, Denmark flipped his hair from his face intentionally sending a spray of water Sweden's way.

"You're a twerp, you know that?" Sweden shot at him.

"You're the one who threw me in the water!"

"Can it. Both of you." Norway said. "The world doesn't need more fights."

The Scandinavians let out long and simultaneous sighs.

"So what does it say?" Sweden tried again.

Denmark huddled between the two and shivered against the ocean breeze. With a contended huff, Norway threw an arm around his sopping friend to give him a thorough and prolonged squeeze.

"Closed on account of happiness."

This is the story I told myself I'd never ever write, but that's the problem with writing- there's an obnoxious voice whispering for you to do its bidding. Mine told me to SatW-ify WWII and in the process hit every hard line of what I thought this light and fluffy fandom ought to entail and what I should produce as a fanfic writer therein.

And I'm so very glad I did. This wasn't a challenge to write in the normal sense (history gave me the plot and characterization) and my biggest concern ultimately boiled down to if a fanfic such as this should be shared.

But now that it's out there, how'd I do? SatW writers aren't used to much feedback and we'd really, really love some more (HINT).

Thanks for reading!