The sky soon darkened and the fluffy white clouds have disappeared completely. But while the sky remained crystal clear, that image soon dissolved as heavy black smoke rose from the burning mansion in front of the Nordic family. Crackling was heard from inside the old building as well as shouts and screams, but they seem to come from many different people.
"They're ghosts," Norway remarked casually, "they've been trapped to this place, bound in blood and bone to the bellies to all the monsters that ate them or stained in the carpets and wood where they died naturally."
"What does that mean?" Sealand asked, snuggling up against Sweden. They sat down together on the grass with Finland seated on Sealand's other side so that their arms are protectively wound around the boy. Ladonia didn't join in the group sit-down, but sat beside Sweden instead, saying nothing as his papa opened his coat to half-wrap him up in it to keep him warm.
"When you die, your spirit tends to remain at the place where you died. But it looks like a lot of the ghosts here were forced to stay; the walls may be flammable, but no ordinary weapons can damage the outer walls," Norway explained. "I couldn't leave the mansion through the outer wall, so I had to retreat manually as if I was still in my body."
"You could've died in there, Nor…" Iceland spoke up, hugging his knees tightly while staring at the blazing building, "I would've turned back time again until you're out safely too."
"You wouldn't reach that clock-thing you talked about," Norway said, "wherever it was, it's surely burnt to ashes and dust now. You're free, aren't you?"
But Iceland yawned softly and reached into his jacket to pull out his journal, flipping it open and seeing nothing but blank pages. His name is no longer written in there. "Seems like it. But I am NOT going into places like that again!"
"May I have it?" Norway suddenly asked and his brother blinked at him, quietly handing the item over. Without another word, Norway stood up and chucked it over his shoulder towards the crumbling mansion. When intense embers licked it, another loud screech was heard that made everyone cover their ears. But Norway only hissed and yanked his hand back, gathering an indigo-coloured fire-type energy in the palm of his gloves, and spread his fingers out wide to catapult the plasmaball.
It shot into the book square-on and it exploded. Tiny flitters of papers carelessly tumbled to the ground with the edges singed, but aside from those the book is now completely obliterated.
"Ice? Are you feeling okay?" Denmark hurriedly asked the Icelander while his wide eyes watched the destruction of the one thing that helped him cope with so many traumas that now do not exist.
The boy glanced at him unsurely, not knowing whether to snap at him or give off a catty remark, but he isn't really like that anymore. He could only feel gratitude and his throat tightening, mind still flashing to the past time loops.
"Ngh… I dunno…" he grumbled and hugged his knees again, squeezing his eyes shut. His chest feels cold without the journal pressing against it from his breast pocket. "I'm tired…"
At that, his face relaxed and he feel back onto his side, deep asleep. The rest of his family panicked and checked him over, but he wasn't injured. Not physically, at least. But they're more worried about his mental health after all this.
The Nordics all returned back to Sweden's house in Scandinavia, where they usually hold their base of operations and shenanigans, but today they went to Sweden's countryside house where they can all stay together and keep an eye on Iceland. The boy acted fine, but he is now tired almost all the time.
Sleeping pills did not help him, and Norway refuses to let him lay a finger on the strongest drugs in the market. Finland decided to take Iceland into a sauna with him to see if it can help him relax, but the first session went disastrously when Iceland refused to go into the small room without wearing his clothes, almost breaking down crying and shaking profusely. Even the option of wearing ordinary swimwear was out the question, he just outright stops himself from ever changing out of his clothes.
He can't even change out of his clothes without feeling vulnerable. Denmark decided that he can sit in the same room as Iceland while he changes, but not without the boy threatening to smash his head in if he doesn't leave.
Not only Iceland refuses to change or wash, he can't be left alone either without weeping and trembling. He hasn't smiled or relaxed properly in weeks since they all escaped the mansion.
Late one night, Iceland managed to fall asleep on Sweden's sofa with his head in Finland's lap, breathing very lightly. The Finn looked up at Sweden across the room as he entered and he put his finger to his lips. "He just fell asleep."
"Mmhm," Sweden nodded and took off his shoes before coming to sit down on the sofa at the other side of the coffee table. "How long?"
"Longest since we escaped that place… 3 hours straight," Finland whispered. "Norway's making some phone calls to England right now. He thinks that he could brew Iceland some tea or something to help him sleep."
"Has he eaten or drank anything at all?" Sweden murmured. The room was dark and only slightly illuminated by the full moon outside; thankfully he can navigate his own home in near-darkness.
"No… I'm worried, Sve. It's like he's a child again."
"He pretty much still is," his companion said sadly, "he… what happened to him was just wrong. It shouldn't happen to people like him at all. He's the strongest young man I've ever had the joy of meeting…"
"He seems to like your home better than even Norway's," Finland remarked. Glancing down, he gently began to stroke Iceland's soft cheek. "Norway's home is supposed to be nostalgic and healing to him…"
"It was my fault…" Sweden breathed heavily and took his glasses off, wiping the little panes, "it was that stupid union years ago that separated Norway from Iceland. Iceland would've grew up with Norway properly like brothers should, and he would be there instead of here."
"But it's your house he stayed at," Finland smiled slightly, "you're big and strong, he probably feels safe."
At that, Sweden smiled too; "No. It's your lap he's sleepin' on. You're very strong too."
"That's because I'm the man."
"Ja, you're the man."
A small whine alerted them and they worriedly glanced down at Iceland as he stirred and mumbled incoherently.
"Nor…" the boy shook all over and wiped his eyes, glancing around the dark room and sat up.
"He's sleeping upstairs," Finland assured him, "it's me, Finland. Sweden came to check on you too."
"Where's… Ladonia… and Waterland?" Iceland asked, looking anxious. Finland and Sweden exchanged puzzled looks.
"Don't you mean Sealand?" Sweden asked. Iceland's lips pursed and he nodded.
"Yes… Sealand… is he and that other guy okay…?"
Sealand and Ladonia were both sent home as soon as the main Nordics arrived home for their own safety, so they should be completely fine in their own homes.
"They're back home now, thanks to you," Finland explained, "you saved us all. You've done so good, Ice. You're the bravest nation ever."
But Iceland didn't seem to accept that and laid back on the sofa again, curling up on his own. "No… I got you all killed… I need to go back."
Finland blinked and glanced at Sweden for a clue, but the burly man shrugged in equal confusion.
"What do you mean?" the Finn asked unsurely.
"I'm going to go back to the mansion and turn everything back so that none of you will be killed again."
"No," Sweden suddenly stood up and strode around the coffee table to kneel beside Iceland, taking his hand into his and holding it tightly, "You got us home. We're safe. Nothing can happen to use again. Never. None of those monsters will ever get to us again. I made sure of that. The mansion and the diary are destroyed, so they should never taunt you again. Okay?"
As he said all the, Finland did not look at how shocked and wide Iceland's eyes are, but he looked instead at Sweden's saddened expression which showed agony.
It took months of coaxing and gentle care before Iceland mustered the courage to stay in a room on his own for more than 10 minutes and eat some food without difficulty swallowing. Many hard months spent at Sweden's house are slowly paying off for the traumatised teenager, and his boss gladly allowed him to stay for as long as he likes until he's completely healed.
"After all, you wouldn't run a marathon with a broken foot, so stay put until your mind is healed," was his boss's remark.
Sweden was more than happy to be the young boy's caretaker, accompanying him everywhere and walking him down to the markets for simple shopping. They spent evenings together reading many books (and Iceland improved his Swedish from reading too), drinking small amounts of coffee but the lavender tea that England prescribed the boy seemed to work like a treat. To Sweden, it feels like old times. Iceland finally established a sleeping pattern too, but his last challenge remained before he is completely well enough to feel 100% safe; sleeping on his own.
Up until now, Iceland slept with Sweden in his large bed as he often wakes up screaming from numerous nightmares, and Sweden's the only nation around strong enough to restrain him to stop him from accidentally hurting himself. So tonight, Sweden will sleep on the sofa downstairs while Iceland sleeps on his own.
"I can do this…" Iceland muttered, sliding beneath the covers of the large bed. He automatically glanced to the en suite bathroom door, but remembered that he's going to be alone for tonight.
He settled down and shut his eyes, trying to relax into the usual sleeping position that he has grown accustomed to; curled up in a foetal position while hugging a random pillow. This time, he took a pillow that felt quite thick as though he's hugging someone. There are glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the wall so they'll glow for a short while and assure Iceland that the room isn't completely dark. But he's worried already. What if they go out before he falls asleep?
Iceland's heart began to race when he heard a small thump coming from downstairs and he burrowed his face into the pillow and curled up tighter under the duvet, shivering. He's not cold, he's becoming scared. That was when he remembered a trick that Sweden taught him one night in bed that helped him calm down.
"Inhale a deep breath for 5 seconds, hold it for 8 seconds, and then exhale for 5 seconds. Think you can do that?"
So he took a breath. He forgot to count in his head so he tried again, sucking in some air and counted. His lips sealed and held his breath in for 8 seconds; it felt like a long time, but he realised how slightly calmer he felt as he released his breath and repeated the whole motions again. Soon, Iceland felt a lot better and he sighed heavily, finally settling down in body and mind. His body's been easier to unwind than his mind, since his conscience is so riddled with horrid memories and dark accusations made up by his subconscious, but… Iceland doesn't give a damn anymore. He just wants to bloody sleep. That realisation alone seemed to lift off a heavy burden from his chest.
And then he fell asleep, letting go of the pillow.
While he still has nightmares and millions of self-doubts eating him raw, Iceland was better off than months ago when he was constantly rewinding time. It was a very long road to recovery, and he still has some time to go because mental injuries are only different in that you can't be sure if you're completely fine until you test yourself. You can look at a psychical injury and know that it's perfectly fine but not so much as the mind because it'll be like allowing an open wound to heal on its own without administering something to stop the bacteria from rushing in, rather like how with traumatised minds bad thoughts can always filter in and out and make recovery extremely slow.
Soon, Iceland has returned home at last. His mind is no longer at the mansion or focused on it. He burned all those mental terrors away, and now he's going to settle down until the New Year arrives after he spends Christmas alone with his big brother. He'll soon resume official duties as the Republic of Iceland.
.
.
.
The End.
A/N: Finally finished NordicOni. I was hoping to make the story drag out, but I don't think I could do it. I feel that I should've finished this long ago, but now here's an ending. To be honest, I feel a bit better with this ending rather than strictly following the HetaOni storyline.
But the last part doesn't feel right somehow. I never had a mental illness or PTSD, so it didn't really sit right with me to write about something sensitive that I never experienced before; I usually only write out of experience, so you'll probably notice the lack of flow. I want to apologise for any insensitivities that I made.
I want to thank you all for sticking with me for this long. My other option would've been a permanent hiatus, but I wasn't going to give up that easily. It took me a long time, but now I have finished this story.
I will now try to finish off the other Hetalia stories and possibly finish fanfiction writing for good. But then again, I'll procrastinate on that too, so expect me to stay for many years. (Lol!)