At last, after several hours of grueling research, it's here! The next chapter!

I ended up Googling "top fear in [country name]" in different languages until I found this thing. Unfortunately, it was the only thing I found that was relevant . . .

After the Nordics had breakfast (without butter), Denmark, who was covered in bruises, said "Hey, hey, Norge! Do you got any gaming stuff? Maybe we can play a game!"

Norway glanced out the window and sighed—the snow wasn't letting up at all. "I do have a Wii."

"What games do you have?" Finland asked curiously.

"A Whaler's Journey and Garden Mania."

"'s th't all?" Sweden muttered.

"Oh my god Norge, you're boring," Denmark said.

"I'd like to try that whaler one," Iceland said quietly.

"Well, that's no problem anyway!" Denmark said cheerfully and loudly. He ran down the hall and came back a few seconds later with a blank game case. "America lent me this game! He said it was really cool!"

Without telling anyone what the game actually was, he popped it into the console, grabbed a remote, and started clicking. The game's title screen came up.

"Wh't's th's?" Sweden mumbled quietly.

"He said it was called World War 3! I haven't actually played it yet, but I thought it would be pretty cool to see what countries—Sve?"

Sweden, trembling, moved over to the console. He ejected the disk, to Denmark's loud protests, grabbed it, and cleanly snapped it in two, tossing the pieces at Denmark's feet.

Denmark stared at the broken game in shock for a moment. Then he grinned and pulled out an identical disk from behind his back. "Well, just don't break this one, okay Sve? Here, I'll use this one—"

Sweden grabbed the disk and snapped it in half again, this time stomping on the pieces until they were reduced to tiny fragments.

"Are th're any m're?" he mumbled, glaring at Denmark.

"What the hell, Sve!?" Denmark yelled.

Sweden approached him, lifted him up by his neck (since he wasn't wearing a shirt) and mumbled loudly "Are. Th're. Any. M're. G'mes?"

"N-No . . ." Denmark gasped, turning a faint shade of blue.

"Sweden! P-Please let him go!" Finland said worriedly. Sweden glanced at him and dropped Denmark.

"Y' ev'r sh'w th't g'me 'n fr'nt of me ag'n," he mumbled angrily, glaring down at Denmark, "'nd I sw'r t' Od'n I'll k'll you."

"Denmark," said Norway. "Please show him that game again."

So Sweden's top fear is apparently WWIII. Hm.

"Is that all?"

"What's this?"

"Are there any more?"

"Are. There. Any. More. Games?"

"You ever show that game in front of me again, and I swear to Odin I'll kill you."