Last time on The Dark Nordics!:

(Y/n), accompanied with America and Canada, found Norway unconscious in front of a burning building formerly holding the Europeans. That building, however, turned out to be empty, which was peculiar since said unconscious nation had magically trapped them in their own conference room.

Meanwhile the Europeans settled down in America's house, patiently waiting for his and the other nations' arrival to figure out what to do with the big problem they all faced.

As they waited Italy had a small breakdown:

When Spain entered the room the Italian's gaze instantly set on him.

"He's gone!" Italy choked out.

"I can't feel him anymore"

"What do you mean you can't feel him anymore? Feel who?" Belgium asked with worry. Spain, however, had frozen in place, eyes wide and glazed over. "Romano?" he whispered. When Italy sniffled, Spain's hands clenched into fists. His normally gentle green eyes now burned with rage. Rage he hadn't felt in a long time. He could feel the adrenaline pump in his veins as his vision went red. Without a single word he turned and rushed through the door, pushing Belgium out of the way in the meantime. He barely registered her crying out his name as he flew down the stairs. Footsteps echoed behind him, signalling him that someone, most likely Belgium, was following him.

Ignoring her pleas of answers as he snatched his jacket from the kitchen chair he had earlier occupied and pulled it on, once more pushing past the Belgian as he went for the exit. "Spain!" she yelled out indignantly. "Answer me! Where are you going?" Spain turned around in a flash, just as he was about to slam the door, and grabbed her shoulders with a murderous glint in his eyes. "I am going to find those fucking bastards and show them that they're not the only ones capable of murder." He snarled as he tightened the grip on her shoulders. Belgium stared with wide eyes as he released his hold on her and stormed out to the streets. She didn't react as Hungary ran past her, cursing in her native language, and after Spain. She didn't move from the doorway as England attempted to close the door, ending with him giving out a sigh, patting her on the back and leaving her alone. She stood in the doorway long enough to watch the calm Christmassy snow turn into a small blizzard. The cold from the wind and the flakes that stuck to her skin made her feel as numb on the outside as she felt on the inside. A few more nations came to her to try and pull her inside but she didn't respond to any of them and they knew well enough to leave her alone. The first thing that managed to inflict a reaction was when a figure emerged from the heavy snowfall. She squinted her eyes to try to identify the group of people. "Spain?" she yelled to be heard over the roaring wind. "Hungary?"

"Hello?" someone yelled back. "Belgium, that you? How did you get out?" Belgium sighed with joy. That boisterous voice couldn't belong to anyone else but America. That meant that at least some of the other nations hadn't gotten captured. "Yeah, it's me," she said warmly, squinting her eyes to attempt to see the nation coming through the gate. America groaned heavily. "Uhh, awesome dude, but since you're alive and all, is there any way you could help us a bit? Canada is lacking a bit in muscle when it comes to carrying others around." Belgium hesitated a bit before stepping out onto the snow covered ground. A silhouette of three people had barely started emerging in the blur of snow. The trio seemed to be squished together; America's tall and buff build being easily recognizable on the left with a smaller and leaner man on the far right, who Belgium guessed was Canada. The third person hung limply between the two, the lean arms hanging over each one's shoulder. When she spotted them she gasped loudly. "Do you have (Y/n)?" she asked frantically, bearing her hand over her brows in an attempt to see better. Was that her there between them? In the light of everything that had happened recently no one seemed to have remembered the poor human girl who they had sent out to do their bidding. She felt a surge of relief replace the guilt of having forgotten when the American shouted an affirmative. "Yeah, we've got her." The trio were now finally close enough for her to see them clearly and the sight made her stop in her tracks. The person who hung between the two nations wasn't (Y/n). It was a male. Her eyes caught fire as the man raised his head to meet hers.

America and Canada hadn't caught the glint in her eyes early enough and before they knew it the Norwegian had been thrown from their hands and to the ground. America blinked as Belgium's voice roared through the wind. "You bastard!" she cried out in rage as a fist connected with Norway's face. "You lousy flee! You MURDERER!" Her fist kept connecting with the Nordic's face after each insult she threw at him, until she banged her fists on his chest with a loud sob. "How could you!" she cried. "How could you do that to him!"

Belgium shrieked as two sturdy arms snaked their way around her waist and pulled her off the dazed Norwegian. "Woah, easy there," America said, holding her up as she slumped against his arms in defeat, sobs now racking through her body.

"He killed him. He killed Romano!"

She felt the arms stiffen around her. "He what?" America said dumbfounded, eyes snapping towards the accused. Norway had gotten to his feet and (Y/n) reluctantly steadied him as he swayed from side to side. The harsh wind ripped at their hair and clothes, sending any flakes that had managed to settle down on them flying into the blizzard to join into the white haze of blur and snow. Norway shivered violently, disoriented eyes darting around the yard, as a lost child feverishly looking for his parents in a large crowd. If it weren't for the sudden fury that rose in his chest, he would have pitied the small man in front of him.

Before he could take control over his anger his fist had already flown through the air and connected with Norway's jaw, sending him once again to the ground. Norway raised himself onto his elbows with a groan, (Y/n) hovering over him with an uncertain look. America pushed her aside and pulled out his pistol, shaking off his brother that had attempted to hold him back. He pointed the gun to the Nordic's head. "Is it true?!" he growled. "Did you kill them?" Norway only lifted his head in a daze, before locking gazes with America. "I…" he whispered, his words barely heard over the roaring wind. "I don't remember."

America did not look pleased with that answer but Canada took control before things got out of hand. "Stop!" he almost yelled. "Belgium, do you have actual proof Romano's dead? Do you know for certain!?" Belgium opened her mouth but closed it again before shaking her head no. Canada sighed. "There. That settles it. Now let's do what we were actually planning to do!" He sent a small smile to his brother who had relaxed his stand and pocketed his gun. "Okay. Bring him in," he said emotionless before walking into the house, Belgium trailing behind. Canada looked to (Y/n) with a nod and the two of them hoisted Norway up and assisted him through the doorway.

Finland stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he watched Denmark rummage through the fridge. The first break he had allowed the Dane and he goes straight for the fridge. Typical. A few groans mixed in with a few colourful curses made him speak up. "You not finding what you want?" he asked in slight amusement. "No," Denmark said simply, irritation evident in his voice. "We haven't gone shopping for way too long, the fridge is freaking empty."

Finland probed himself up and moved to his side. For once, Denmark wasn't joking. The fridge was full of little containers and cartons but all seemed either expired or uneatable. Some didn't even look like food. Finland made a mental note to check those out later. With Sweden around you could never be too cautious about what sits in the fridge. He had developed a habit of mixing quite interesting ingredients together to see what effect they had on the consumer.

Finland moved a few containers to the side to see more of the foods stashed in the back. "What about this?" he pointed to a green blob that stood on a plate in the back corner. Denmark eyed it, before dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "You know I don't eat vegetables." Finland reached for the plate and dragged it out. "I don't think this is a vegetable," he said poking it with a knife he had grabbed from the side table. Denmark grabbed the food and brought it to his face to smell. His face lit up. "Fin, it's cheese!" Finland wrinkled his nose. "How old is that thing! It smells absolutely awful."

Denmark shrugged before using the knife to cut the cheese in half. He handed the first half to Finland. "It's cheese, it's supposed to be smelly. Besides, at least it's food!" Finland took the piece completely expressionless. "Denmark, there's mould on this cheese," he said flatly.

"Just scratch it off," Denmark said, already using the back of the knife to scratch the smelly green and white spots of his piece. With a big grin he took a large bite. Finland took one last look at the food before chucking it over the room and straight into the wastebasket that stood by the door frame. "Dude! Why?" Denmark yelled in protest, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Finland pushed himself upright and walked out of the room, murmuring something about pizza on his way out. Denmark groaned. "That was my original plan! But who stopped me? You! 'Oh, Denmark!'," he mimicked in a high pitched voice, "'We have plenty of food in the fridge. Don't spend money on things we don't-" he stopped immediately as the Fin's head popped back through the doorway. "Now we're getting pizza!" the fin said sternly. Denmark sighed. Finland's tone of finality left no room for argument so Denmark followed Finland's example and threw the cheese into the garbage before leaving the kitchen.

Upon entering the living room the sight of Iceland watering the plants welcomed him. The Icelander did not look up from his work as Denmark walked past him, but a small nod of acknowledgement was sent his way when he said his greetings. Sweden was also stationed in the living room. He had made himself comfortable on the couch, feet probed up on the table and a newspaper in his hands. Denmark threw himself into the sofa on the Swede's left side. "He's ordering pizza," Denmark said.

Sweden smiled, eyes never leaving the weathered pages of the newspaper. Iceland only rolled his eyes. "Took him long enough," he said before moving to the next plant.

A faint yell of outrage from downstairs could be heard and Denmark sighed. "They still haven't stopped?" Sweden shook his head. "Wouldn't expect any less from them," he said, turning the page with practiced hands. Iceland put the watering can on the floor and flopped down onto one of the two armchairs. " I can't say it isn't getting a little annoying though," he said in irritation. "It's not like screaming will open the locks for them." Denmark snickered. "I know from experience that you would be exactly the same as them if it were us in their situation."

"Of course they're angry," Sweden commented without looking up from the newspaper. "You would be too. What we did is not something anyone should take lightly. Including us."

He folded the newspaper together so that the headline of the article he had been reading faced the other two.

Riots in Italy. People shaken

"Once the others see this, once they get a whiff of what our intentions are, they won't stand idly by much longer."

Denmark frowned. "A few articles about riots don't lead them to us. Riots are common enough not to be too suspicious."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that." Finland appeared in the doorway, a notebook in hand. "Just because you're as stupid as a brick wall doesn't mean the rest of us are."

Denmark frowned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"That you're not seeing the big picture, as usual."

"Okay, so enlighten me, what is the 'big picture'."

"The big picture is that they're not morons, Denmark." Finland had started scribbling down on the pad with his neat mechanical pen. "They're going to figure this out."

Denmark felt like he was being accused, that it was his fault they were going to get caught. He didn't like that very much. "I don't see why you always have to shit on me, Fin!" Denmark's voice roared

As the doorbell rang the room silenced. The intensity of the atmosphere in the room was on such a high level that it was almost tangible. Like there was a profuse amount of fog present in the living room, only lingering around in hope of seeing a full blown fight erupting. The doorbell rang again and Iceland sighed, rising up to answer it since the other two seemed to have started a glaring contest, and Sweden looked like he was having way too much fun just watching them. As Iceland disappeared behind the wall, Denmark huffed childishly in Finland's direction, finally making Sweden explode with roaring laughter. Denmark glowered at him. "What's your problem!?" he snapped. Sweden chuckled, wiping a tear from his eyes before it could slip down his face.

But Sweden's answer was drowned out by a loud growl coming from the hall. The distinct sound of a fist connecting with a face followed by immense amount of swearing and shattering glass that made all the Nordics jump out of their seats. Finland rushed out of the living room as yelling ensued and disappeared up the stairs. Denmark and Sweden made their way to the door to see a scowling Iceland leaning against the wall, a bloodied hand covering his nose, and a furious Spain shouting incomprehensible Spanish at highest volume on his knees by the open door. The window in the door had completely shattered and the glass lay broken on the floor around the Spaniard. The only thing seemingly stopping him from being all over Iceland was that his hand was pressing against his thigh where red seeped through the dark brown pants.

"You," he growled, finally switching from Spanish to English, making eye contact with all three of them, "I'm going to kill all of you!" He settled his gaze on Iceland as he rose to his feet, slower than he would have liked from the pain in his leg.

Before anyone could reply he spun around, grabbed a handful of glass and threw it at Denmark while launching himself at Sweden, all three of them toppling to the ground. Denmark cursed, flying to his feet, quickly dragging the Spaniard of Sweden. "What the fuck do you think you're doing," he yelled as Spain shook himself out of Denmark's hold in order to throw a punch at his jaw. Denmark reeled to the side, making room for Sweden who ran into Spain, slamming him into the walls behind him. Spain groaned, glaring heavily up at the towering Swede.

"Settle down now," Sweden warned, "you have zero chance of winning."

"I can take you any day," Spain hissed in response.

"Oh yeah," Iceland said, as he dragged a dazed but angry Denmark to his feet. "You think you can take all three of us?"

"Four, actually," Finland added as he appeared on top of the stairs, a rifle aimed at the Mediterranean nation. Sweden glared heavily at the Spaniard, ripping the shard of glass, that protruded from his leg, out, sending him to his knees with a sharp shout of pain. He backed away and joined Denmark and Iceland, allowing Finland to move and get a good grip on the Spaniard's arm. "Ice, how's your aim?" he asked calmly.

"Good enough," he commented as he tried wiping some of the blood of his face, only managing in smearing it messily around.

"Good," Finland said as he threw the rifle to the Icelander and tugged Spain to his feet. "Help me get him down to the others. And Sweden, get Denmark to the couch or something. He doesn't look too good."

"I'm fine," Denmark hissed, shaking off Sweden's arm, before swaying a bit to the sides.

Sweden snorted and dragged a protesting Denmark into the living room as Iceland cocked his gun, meeting Finland's gaze with a nod before he prodded into Spain's back. "Walk," he instructed, "We can't bother to deal with you just yet."

Finland, still holding a firm grip on Spain's arm, tugged him forward. Spain stumbled along, one hand clutching his bleeding thigh.

"What the hell happened to you?" Spain growled through clenched teeth. He almost managed to hide the pain. Almost. "What made you think killing your own kind was ever a good idea!?"

"Nothing happened," Finland replied calmly.

"Am I seriously supposed to believe that?"

"Believe what you want," Iceland yawned. "We've always been here, you just never acknowledged us. And this is what happens when you underestimate someone."

Spain glared, "We may not be best friends, but I've known you for a long time. You'd never do this."

"Well that makes two of us," Iceland mused, eyeing the Spaniard's expression with an amused smile. "Never seen you in a bad mood before."

"You killed my closest ally," he growled. "I think I-"

"You just made things worse for you," Finland commented, ignoring Spain's words as he dragged him down a door leading to the cellar. "Since you guys got out of our little trap we decided to not advance before our time. The others are unquestionably weaker without you, and we got an easy catch."

Iceland chuckled as they made their way down a set of stairs. "Sounds to me that this is entirely in our favour. Maybe I should thank you," he said, before shaking his head with a small growl, "despite the fact that you might have broken my nose."

Finland snorted at that as he opened a door leading into what looked like a man crafted cave lined with three doors on each side. As the door slammed against the stone walls everything seemed to roar to life. A choir of screams and shouts of anger howled around them as Finland led him to the nearest door. Iceland banged his gun against the doors in order to silence the source of shouting, but not without yelling at them to shut up.

"You really shouldn't have come here," Finland said as he pushed Spain in. "I just think we owe you that much to tell you," he added before he closed the door with a click, "that we never killed your boyfriend."

Spain froze on the floor, his mind too stunned to process the information Finland just gave to him. When he finally was able to move he rushed to the door and banged at it, yelling for the two Nordics to wait, but stopped as he heard the lock of the outer door click into place. The shouting had stopped, leaving complete silence in the darkness of what Spain assumed must have been his cell. He turned and leaned his back against the metal door, sliding slowly to the floor, too confused to know what to do. Until a way too familiar voice broke out weakly.

"Spain?"

A/n: I'm kinda at loss for words right now... This took some ass whipping to write. I swear, I started writing it the day after I published the last chapter xD It's just been an uphill battle. Some days I only managed to write a sentence or so and then it just built up, slow and steadily to a full chapter. The fact that it took so many months to do is just baffling to me, but I'm finally publishing it. Is it perfect? nope. Could I have edited it more? definitely. But, for reasons unknown to me I'm publishing. I really hope at least some of my former audience is still here :P I'd love to hear from you, if you're still here.

~Dala