Norway kept his hands entwined behind his back as he stared out the window. The dress suit he wore was stiff and too confining for his comfort level. He had been forced to borrow it from Jeff's closet, considering that he had been incapable of going home to change before their travels. Iceland had managed to find a sweater out of foraging through the family's home and wore it though the color (a rusty brown) was not a shade that looked nice on him. He had protested privately to Norway, but Norway had silenced his brother by reminding him that it was both not their own clothing and that Jan had nearly torn apart the apartment looking for a sweater that fit the Icelandic teenager.
Iceland, however, was in the car main entrance of the home, surrounded by heavily armed police for his own protection. The Icelander had once mentioned to Norway that the thought of so many guns in his proximity frightened him and that he was terrified of a possible moment when these allies would turn their guns on him. As Norway tightened and fixed his tie using the reflection in the window as a reference point, he realized that he shared the exact same belief.
Russia... Norway wasn't sure how he felt in the nation. There was an existing tension from wars long gone, and though the two had resolved their differences and former conflicts, Norway still felt out of place while visiting. Despite these reasonable arguments when he requested to not be present at the meeting, he had still been forced to go.
Get in, avoid eye contact, get out, he thought over and over, mentally coaching himself on what he would do when the time came for their meeting to take place. He always felt guilty when he visited Russia, always so self-conscious while around him. He was shorter than Russia and didn't know him well, which was a horrid combination for his nervous system. Norway could feel his insides churning at the thought of having to talk to this person, who was practically a stranger, but he found comfort in the fact that their meeting was not scheduled to last for more than ten minutes.
The last time the police force had been given the capability to track Denmark it had been revealed that he had last been withheld in a secluded cabin inside of Russian boundaries. Based off of previous historic interactions with Russia the police forces decided it would be best to question Russia, and ask both if he knew that this had been occurring in his own nation and if he had helped them in any way.
Norway, not wanting to insult Russia (such as his idiotic friends had done in their early years) sought that asking the latter question would be unwise. He would simply ask if Russia knew about it, then go on from there.
A door opened at the end of the hall, and the tall, light-haired, smiley personification entered. "Ah, so you are here," he asked, an expression crossing his face that was similar to bashfulness. "I was told you were in one of the rooms on this side of the building, but they neglected to inform me of which one. I'm glad to find you in a hallway, or I'm sure my wrist would have twisted off!" Russia laughed, his violet eyes shutting as his soft laugh echoed against the walls.
Norway dipped his head in greeting, watching the Russian's actions closely.
"Now, now, don't start giving me that look. Before we get to global stuff, why don't we become a little more familiar with each other? How are you, Mister Norway?"
Norway found himself taken aback by the pleasantries that Russia was displaying. He was having a difficult time distinguishing the Russian's personality, he couldn't make out if Russia was genuinely concerned, or hiding a sinister side.
"I'm doing fine, thank you. And yourself?"
"Absolutely splendid," Russia responded, although there was something behind the words that sounded forced, false. Was it sarcasm or not? Gods, it was difficult to tell.
Norway took a deep breath and looked out the window, already feeling his hands begin to shake. Hang in there, he scolded himself, it's only Russia. You know him. He's not a stranger; he's just like you, get this over quickly and then get out. "Russia, you're aware of why we are meeting, correct?" He was shocked—his voice didn't crack. It was just as plain and emotionless as always.
"I do," Russia said, leaning forward as he did so. "But I'm afraid I'm uninformed of the information leading up to why we're meeting. Do inform me of everything that has occurred and troubled you so."
Norway's social anxiety was getting the better of him. It was almost as though Russia was reading everything about his posture and actions and could predict everything he would say and do. As Norway's panicky mind concluded, why tell him if he already knows? If he can see through me he wouldn't need me to tell him, but alas, that would not suffice. And so, with sweaty palms and a tie that suddenly felt too tight around his throat, Norway informed the Russian man of the major events of his life during the previous months in the least amount of words possible.
"The last scan for his location informed us that the most recent place he was held was inside your country's borders. I have to ask—were you aware of this?"
Russia continued to smile, but there was something under the smile that gave Norway an uneasy feeling that settled in his gut. "I sensed that a nation had crossed into my territory, but I could not sense which, and considering that I had been about to attend a meeting with China, where we were going to discuss this very topic, I assumed it had merely been China arriving early. I can now see that I was wrong to have made such an assumption."
"When was it that you sensed this entrance you mentioned?" It did not come as a surprise to Norway for Russia to have recognized the entrance of another personification in his territory, it was a common thing among their... Ah, for the lack of a better word, species.
"About one to two weeks ago," Russia responded. "Are they gone now?"
Norway shrugged in response. "I have no idea. Personally, I hope that they've left so that we don't end up having our police forces invading your country, but if that's what it comes down to, then that's the way it'd have to be." Norway suddenly coughed, creating an awkward tension in the air. Finally, Norway straightened his back and took a deep breath before opening his mouth again, deciding to choose his words carefully. "I was ordered to ask you this, and I mean for this question not to pry or interrogate, but I must ask: were you aware and knowledgeable that these abductors were in your country, holding and torturing Denmark?"
Russia's overly bright smile faded, yet still remained, albeit in a reduced form. "You're asking if I helped them," the Russian said bluntly, his emotions becoming harder and harder to read. Norway attempted to casually wipe off the sweat on the palms of his hands and nodded curtly. "My answer is no, Mr. Norway. Believe it or not, I would not allow such an occupation in my country, especially considering the circumstances. I am currently in the process of increasing my police force in order to assist in your search, and if it so happened that it was in my power to stop them, they would already be in custody. I would never let the people responsible for this slip through our fingers."
In previous interactions, Russia had never been focused on lending a helping hand to Norway, nor anyone that was dear to Norway at all. Therefore, this bit of information left him speechless for a moment or two. Russia must have hidden the meetings well for the politics that were generally involved to avoid being released by the press. "We were uninformed of this development. Again, I doubted asking the question and apologize for any offense you may have taken, but it was a necessary question."
"I understand, Mr. Norway. No hard feelings." Despite Russia's cheerfulness and certainty, Norway had his doubts about the character in front of him, with good reasons to support those beliefs. "However, I do believe that it is very unlikely that they would still be in my nation's premises."
Norway let his curiosity get the best of him and allowed himself to ask the prompted question. "Why do you say that?"
Russia shut his eyes, sending a warm smile down at Norway.
Norway hated being looked down on, absolutely hated it. It left him feeling smaller, weaker and more insignificant than he cared to be.
Russia turned sideways to face the window that looked outward on the front yard, reaching out his hand and tapping Norway on the shoulder. "Come and look," he said softly as he approached the window, looking outward with such a childish expression that Norway was fooled into believing that the Personification in front of him was nothing more than an abnormally tall child. The white of the snow that sprinkled down from the rooftops reflected too easily in his eyes, a stark contrast to Russia's violet irises. Norway forced himself to remain steady and refrain from shaking, and took the three sweeping steps it took to stand at Russia's side. "The clouds are rolling in. With them comes snow, and these conditions can become highly dangerous when in abandoned houses without proper heating and such. If you wanted a starting point to look for these abductors, I'd advise going to a country a little south of my western border."
Norway expressed his gratitude by nodding to Russia and holding out his hand in an act of both finality and friendliness. Russia took the hand firmly and pulled Norway closer to his looming form. "Norway, please be careful out there," he whispered, so quiet that Norway questioned if it was just his imagination or if the Russian had actually spoken. When Russia pulled away from Norway he had a tear running down his cheek that he tried to hide by swiping at it with his thumb. "Just remember that I know what you're going through. I know what it feels like to have no idea where your sibling is, or in your case friend. My sister was withheld from me for years upon years. That... that's why I always wear this scarf."
Norway tilted his head to the side and ran two fingers over his cross hairpin. "All of us Nordics wear the cross that we share in our flags... To remind us of each other when times are rough."
Russia bit his lip, the original emotional wall that he had dawned broken and pushed aside to show the true sympathy behind his violet eyes, as well as the shadow of a rather painful past. "Y-you know, if you ever visit my country again, you can stay in my home, correct? It'll always be open for you." His violet eyes dropped to the shoes on his feet, as if he had gained a sudden interest in the fabric pattern, and he took a deep breath before continuing once more. "I'd like to get to know you better someday," he added as a side thought, awkwardly fumbling with his fingers behind his back.
Norway responded as he listed his head politely, "I hope to take you up on that offer one day." Sighing, he sent a glance out the window, watching the approaching storm clouds and brittle wind hurl past a few nearby tree branches, blowing them out of their usual placement. "Alas, that day cannot be today. I have to go back home as soon as possible."
Russia's eyes flitted to the sky. "Surely you don't mean to leave right now? It's almost dark, and the roads can get dangerous when you can't see anything, especially at this time of the year. Why don't you stay the night? You and Iceland and those policemen that brought you, I can provide warm food and comfortable, safe beds. Then you can head off in the morning."
After admitting to himself that Russia was correct, Norway shrugged. "Might as well. Thank you for your generous offer," he said, nodding courteously to Russia.
"No need to thank me, it'd be my pleasure to have you as my guest."
"I'll go and alert the others. It's been nice talking," Norway said, and, having already given his dues to the Russian, scurried out of the hallway. Once he was safe in a small closet cupboard he took a deep breath, held it in, and let it out slowly. His entire body was shaking and his stomach felt weak. Alas, it was true that he would have to inform Iceland, Jeff and Jones about the overnight stay, and therefore forcibly dragged himself out of the cupboard.
He walked along and tried not to get lost inside the large home. Once he found the people he had traveled with he told them that he had arranged for them to stay the night.
Jones protested, but Norway cut him off immediately, reminding him that it would be dangerous to leave at this time of night.
Russia showed them their rooms, and after the warm meal that had been promised, Iceland and Norway went to their room and fell onto the bed.
"Hong Kong called." Iceland blurted out after five minutes of solid silence.
"Who?"
"Hong Kong, he's a friend of mine. Anyway, he called yesterday. Is that dangerous?"
To Iceland's dismay, Norway contemplated the question before shrugging nonchalantly. "Did he call your cell phone?"
"Yeah."
"Then yes, it was dangerous."
"It won't happen again, I... Ah..."
"How brutal were you?"
"I smashed it with a nearby hammer."
"Sheesh, where were you?"
"In my room."
"You keep a hammer in your room?"
"I figure that the hammer is better to keep at my bedside than a gun, so yes, I have a hammer in my room."
"Remind me not to go in your room in the middle of the night."
"Why would you go in my room in the middle of the night anyway?"
"I dunno, putting your clothes away... Properly, not thrown about on the floor. Putting a CD I borrowed on your desktop. Maybe putting out a book I got you from the library on your desk. Stuff like that."
"Um... Okay. Anyway, the point is... What I meant to ask was..." Iceland sighed and turned his face downward so that he could avoid his brother's eye contact. "How much longer do you think Denmark can last like that? How much longer until he's dead?"
Norway reached out and put his hand on Iceland's shoulder. "At this point, we can't afford to have you thinking like that. We need you to stay positive."
Iceland was obviously pushed to snap at that comment, seeing that he responded with a rather sharp tongue. "I'm trying to be realistic. Maybe you should try it once," he retorted, the statement hitting Norway abruptly. While hurt, Norway dismissed it as panic, stress, and or grief and moved on.
"Iceland, the truth is... I don't know. He's suffered worse from the videos that Jones has showed us—"
"Videos? As in multiple?"
The color in Norway's face drained completely as he realized he had let his tongue slip as he spoke in the moment. Jones had shown Norway the second group of recordings, and they had displayed far worse images than the predecessors. Still, the beaten-down and broken Denmark showed life. It had made Norway's heart ache to see Denmark in such a destroyed physical, and obviously mental health, but he had given himself time to accept the fact that there was nothing rational he could do and resolved himself mentally by simply trying to provide as much assistance to the investigation as possible. However, both Jones and Norway agreed on the fact that Iceland shouldn't see the other videos.
"Yes, multiple. There were several videos strung together on the first one we received."
"Sure, Nor. Whatever. It's just..." A small choking noise was heard, and he could see a small tear streaking down Iceland's face through his peripheral vision. "He promised he wouldn't leave... He promised he wouldn't leave me..."
Norway's heart fell apart yet again as he saw his brother crying, and especially due to the fact that he knew that this breakdown was his own fault. When Norway had been forced to leave his union with Denmark, Iceland had been left behind. Since then, Norway had noticed a slight panic that was stricken into Iceland whenever someone left and didn't tell him where they were going.
Despite his own mental restrictions Norway reached out and wrapped his arms around Iceland, pulling him close. "And I'm sure he'll want to keep that promise until his dying breath. But that won't be for a while, okay?"
Iceland's arms curled around Norway's waist, tightening like a python at the desire for someone to squeeze. "Promise me that you'll never disappear."
"Ice—"
"Promise me, Norway!" Iceland suddenly shouted, tucking his head further into his older brother's chest. "You're my b-brother, I can't lose you... I can't lose you too..."
"Iceland, I lost you once already. I won't leave you ever again, I promise. But if I ever do disappear—"
"Don't even say that, Nor."
"Look who's denying the hard, cold reality now," Norway said in his monotonous voice, and Iceland was silenced momentarily. "Look, if I ever disappear, I need you to stay strong and stay safe. Denmark and I raised you to take on our legacy if we ever faded—did you know that?"
Iceland shook his head, curling his body into Norway. "I had come to an assumption similar to that, yes, but I wasn't sure."
"Knowing that, you shouldn't ever stop fighting if Denmark and I aren't here to protect you, okay? You take possession of my military and you do whatever it takes to survive."
As the realization of what Norway was saying sunk into Iceland's comprehension his shoulders began to shake, and he clutched Norway's body as he tried to hide in Norway's protective figure. It was exactly what he had done over a thousand years ago, back when he was just a small little thing bundled in furs and cloth and scared of the lightening.
Norway shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around Iceland, pressing a reassuring kiss on Iceland's forehead before placing his head right above Iceland's. "Remember when you were a little toddler and you took so much pride in calling me your big brother?"
"Not this aga—"
"No, I'm not going to ask you to call me your big brother again. I know you don't want to. I'm just curious as to why you suddenly found so much shame in the concept."
"Nor, if you haven't figured that out by now—"
"I want to hear you say it. I want to hear you explain to me what I did that made you ashamed to be related to me for so long."
Iceland drew in a shaky breath, digging his face into Norway's chest. "First of all, I've never been ashamed of being related to you. It's just… I... I didn't know you anymore. Before the split, we were practically connected at the hip, but in all that time you were gone you changed. You'd been through so much, and it had made you a different person than the person I called big brother. You weren't the person I had once trailed anymore, and it started as soon as those other countries Christianized your people. I felt horrible because I couldn't do anything, and I knew they were hurting you. You even have scars from it," he responded, tracing a finger over some of the scars on Norway's back. Norway's face went quite pale once more, seeing that he hadn't known Iceland was aware of the scar tissue. "And when Denmark did nothing, even though he was capable of doing something, I began to despise him. There was no possible way for me to like someone who once let you be harmed so much." Iceland repositioned his head as he took a breath, tilting it so that he could lay in a more comfortable position. "Those were the days you began to close yourself off to everyone. Everyone but me, who you would care for and feed and watch over... and then you were gone. It took me a long time to understand that you weren't coming back and that Denmark wouldn't let anything happen to me, that you had put your trust in him. And since you trusted him, I figured I would too. But now he's gone too, and I probably won't see him ever again."
Iceland's eyes had gone dry, but the two clung to each other as if their lives depended on it.
Promises. What were they worth, anyway? Promises... They're nothing but some words strung together that created an oath, but promises and oaths were so easily broken. It was as if skating on thin ice with a monster lurking underneath, one misstep and you would be fighting to stay above the surface, for if you fell any lower you would surely drown. That, or be ripped apart. Norway's mind reached this conclusion long after Iceland fell asleep, the Icelander's head tucked into Norway's chest. He stroked the hair that hung off of the back of Iceland's head as he watched his little brother's breathing pattern steady out and become slower.
The next thing Norway knew the sunshine was filtering into his eyes and bringing Norway to his senses. Sitting up and yawning while stretching out a crick in his back, Norway glanced over at Iceland. His face was still partially tucked under the blankets, his nose and eyes sticking out to rest near the place where Norway's shoulder had been a second ago. After he was sure that the sight was stored in the depths of his memory, Norway shook Iceland's shoulder and told him to wake up.
The two dragged their feet to the main room on the second floor of Russia's house—it was, after all, a very large home—and realized that they were the only ones awake. They flipped on the television as they waited, but the channel that appeared sent shivers down their spine.
There were countless headlines about Denmark and the matters of government in the nation recently. There was almost a message being sent, a message aimed at people like Norway and Iceland.
"We are desperate to alert our fellow allies, and even our enemies, of the developments and utmost desperation of our government and, hope that they can avoid similar situations at all costs," said the queen of Denmark, her eyes staring out and seeming to see directly into Norway's eyes.
It was a message to run.
After the news began to repeat itself they shut off the television and pulled out a deck of cards.
By the time the rest of the company had arrived Iceland and Norway were through their fourth round of war and continuing on to their fifth game. It was an even tally, Iceland at two and Norway at two. The stakes were high as they placed card after card down on the pile, creating the accumulation of cards in one of the player's collections. However, they never finished the game. Once Russia, Jeff, and Jones came out of the bedrooms, the brothers put the cards away. Jeff and Jones had both gotten a full night of sleep, a contrast to their usual shifts of staying awake. This was only due to the fact that Russia had armed his home with thirty guards at various posts around the structure as well as inside. After all, it was a large home, and the nights were long in duration.
They shared a breakfast of toast and butter, as well as some smoked salmon prepared with dill, and some scrambled eggs. At ten in the morning Norway, Iceland, Jeff, and Jones bade their farewells and began the trip back home.
"Nice guy, that Russia character," Jeff said at approximately eleven o-two in the morning when all conversations had been reduced to silence.
Approximately.
Norway, who had been waiting for someone to bring up a topic for conversation, jumped at the opportunity to interject. "He's not entirely honest, nor is he as trustworthy as he might seem, but yes, he is kind when he chooses to be so."
Iceland, oddly enough, wasn't paying attention at all. His eyes were staring out the window in that vacant way that only a teenager can replicate. Without his phone for music and games, Russia had kindly given Iceland an extra copy of one of his favorite books, What is to be Done? by Nikolay Chernychevsky. It looked highly interesting, and Iceland was already seventy pages deep in the novel, but he must have been contemplating something else, therefore, left the book open on his lap, a hand placed on top just in case a bump in the road would cause him to lose his place.
"Luckily, we happened to cross him when he was feeling particularly generous. I believe he sympathizes with us, seeing that he knows what we're going through."
"Really now?" Jones asked, throwing himself into the mix as well.
"Yeah, he was separated from his older sister when he was younger. That's why he always wears that scarf, she gave it to him before she left him. Of course, it's faded over the years and changed color a little, but it's the same scarf." Norway gave off a slight chuckle before continuing, "and here he is, complaining because he thinks no one care to know him or his history."
"This book he gave me is interesting," Iceland suddenly interjected, catching Norway off guard.
He recovered quickly, however, and simply listed his head in interest. "You should call him sometime and tell him that," Norway suggested before turning to stare out the window.
The silence returned to the vehicle as they drove along the long stretch of pavement. They stopped driving at eight in the evening, or 20.00, as the clocks read in Swedish. They were staying overnight in a city by the name of Skellefteå, at a hotel that had a large and secure room available at short notice.
Not much happened while they stayed there, nothing other than some talking about the plans for the morning and watching some good comedy television. Iceland and Norway slept in the same bed while Jeff and Jones alternated throughout the night keeping watch, and in the morning they ate breakfast before heading back to Norway's territory. It was another twelve-hour drive ahead of them, and the sooner they returned home the better it would be for all of them.
Norway and Iceland's postures relaxed immensely when their eyes caught sight of their home, and a sigh was heard from Norway as the car rolled up the steep driveway. "It's good to be home," Norway whispered to Iceland, which Iceland responded to with only a nod.
After assuring them that Iceland and himself could watch the house for a few hours and take the first shift, Jeff and Jones were granted permission to sleep in the extra bedrooms that scattered the house in case of a massive influx of trade.
No sooner had the officers gone to rest in their rooms had the phone begin to ring. Having been rather quiet in the home beforehand, it took the brothers by surprise. Norway cautiously reached down and picked up the wall telephone, its spiral cord stretching as he brought the receiver to his ear.
"Hello, Bondevik house."
"Norway?" Denmark's voice snapped and had a crackly texture to it over the telephone line.
"Denmark," Norway responded, his eyes flying wide open. Iceland's attention was brought to him, and he moved closer immediately, trying to listen in.
"Norway, I got away, I got away... Nor, I snuck out of the room but I can't find the exit, help me Norgie, c'mon, I really need your help..." A small, hysterical sob was heard on the other side of the phone line. "Never mind. You wouldn't come anyway. Since it has the possibility that Iceland might be put into danger, you wouldn't dare come. Especially over something meaningless, like my life."
"Denmark, I can get you out of there in a second, and you know I would. Just tell me where you are, and I'll—"
"I know you would? Norway, I've come to a lot of realizations in this hellhole, and I can tell you right now that I'm not so sure that I can say that I know you would come. I'm not sure that I even know you at all."
Norway choked back tears. As vacant and empty as Denmark's voice was, the whipping effect of his words still cut away at Norway's own sanity. "Denmark," he began slowly, regaining control over his emotions. "Where are you?"
It was silent on the other end of the phone for an entire minute, but it felt more like an hour. "I don't know. Near some park, I can hear a bunch of kids playing around. I think I'm still in your country, the kids are shouting in what sounds like Norwegian... or Swedish, I can't tell."
A playground? Norway thought, contemplating the idea.
"I think they're trying to get to my head now. There's not so much physical torture as there is mental, I keep being hooked up and knocked out, only to wake up in dreams where you abuse me and scream at me and blame me for everything until I pass out in that dream and show up in a new one where you're injured and dying and Iceland's there and he's injured and dying and I can't do anything and..." his breath broke into a series of mad breathing patterns and frantic fumbling. "They're coming. Gods, Nor, they're coming, they're coming, they're—"
And with that, the phone line died.
