So, I went back and edited last chapter. If I do something embarrassing like forgetting the chapter title again, please tell me. Sorry if you got a email about that.

Chapter 12: Comfort

Eiríkur was worried.

He had just found out from one of the Fey that Norway had officially surrendered to Germany. Knowing his brother, he was not going to take this well and there was no possible way that he didn't already.

At least they managed to get the government out before that... It would be far worse if they hadn't...

The Icelander tried to open the door, frowning when he found that it was locked. That didn't mean anything, right? Maybe Lukas just locked the door because he was always trying to get him to...

Opening it with his key (and thanking whatever urge had made him decide to bring it with him for once), he silently crept into his house. No sign of Lukas anywhere. There was only the mug he had used earlier in the sink, so it didn't even look like his brother had even been out of his room to have coffee, which he never went without without tons of complaining, and only shared with him (Mikkel had found that out the hard way).

Eiríkur was really scared now.

He went to the Norwegian's room, but couldn't even put his hand on the doorknob before he was rebuffed by an extremely strong ward.

He stumbled back, more out of shock than because of the actual ward. Eiríkur hissed out a swear word as he realized just how bad this was.

The last time Lukas had sealed himself in a room was when the Black Death was going around. Unlike that time, however, it didn't seem like he had forgotten to ward it strong enough to keep the Icelander out. Now his only hope of getting in was forcing his way past the ward.

Eiríkur grimaced. This was going to suck.

He took a deep breath and gathered up his energy. To a normal person, it would look like he was just standing there. To another nation, it would almost look like he was surrounded by blue fire.

After a moment of this, he thrust out his hands. The blue fire rushed towards the door, coming in contact with the ward and shattering it.

That done, Eiríkur fell back against the opposite wall, gasping heavily. He groaned. Note to self: walk to the meeting with my boss tomorrow.

After at least five minutes of regaining enough energy to even move, he got up, stifling a groan at the effort it cost. Another minute of leaning on the wall, he creaked the door open.

The Icelander barely restrained himself from crying out in shock. His brother was curled up in the fetal position, head buried in his knees. As he watched, he saw him shake as if silently sobbing.

Eiríkur felt like sobbing with him. The last time he had seen Lukas like this was during the plague, and he really did not like to remember that time. He cautiously walked toward his brother, softly saying, "Storebror?"

Lukas seemed to curl into an even tighter ball, which hadn't seemed possible before. "Little brother, go. You don't need to see me like this," he said so quietly that the Icelander's ears barely registered it.

Eiríkur obviously didn't listen to him. Instead he slowly walked to the bed and eased himself onto it. The Norwegian seemed to be slowly scooting away from him. If it had been any other time, he would have snickered because it was kind of funny to watch. Knowing what had caused this, he couldn't bring himself to do that, however, and it only served to make him depressed.

The Icelander eyed a certain improbable strand of hair of his brother's. He really did not want to do this. It was weird and completely out of character for his brother, plus Lukas tended to get really annoyed at whoever did it. However, it was preferable to this, and he really didn't have the energy to drag him out of his stupor the hard way.

He sighed, saying, "Please don't kill me for this later," before grabbing Lukas' floating strand of hair and attaching it to his head.

The effects happened immediately. Instead of curling up and trying to scoot away from Eiríkur, Lukas immediately latched onto him and started clutching him like he was about to fade while muttering half-formed words that didn't make any sense and generally acting more affectionate than anyone would think possible.

Resigning himself to the fact that nothing he could do would detach him, the Icelander sighed and made himself comfortable. It was a testament to how drained he was from breaking the seal that he almost immediately fell asleep even with his brother acting creepily out of character beside him.


Lukas groaned as he woke up a few hours later. He reached out a hand to rub his head, freezing when he felt his curl detach from his head upon touch. He cursed under his breath. A certain Icelander was going to get punished for this.

The Norwegian sat up, still disoriented. This is why no one was allowed to touch it, much less attempt to attach it to his head. Unfortunately, he couldn't kill his brother because he would most likely regret it later, even if it wouldn't have any real permanent effects.

Lukas dragged himself out of the room, smelling coffee. He found his brother in the kitchen, staring into a steaming cup of the elixir of life like a zombie. Without saying anything, the Norwegian snatched the cup and drank a good portion of it in one sip.

Eiríkur blinked slowly, staring at the place where his cup had been. After his sleep deprived mind processed what had just happened, he yelled, "NOREGUR! Give me back my coffee!"

Lukas' only response was his patented Norwegian Death Glare. "You deserve to go without the elixir of life for what you did earlier."

"All I did was grab your floating curl! And besides, you gave me that coffee because you didn't want the Ger-" he froze before finishing, probably scared that he would trigger an episode like earlier.

Lukas closed his eyes and sipped at the coffee. "Eiríkur," he began softly, "I am not going to say that I am completely fine. I most likely will not be until this war is over. But I will not let myself act like I did earlier."

Eiríkur didn't say anything for awhile. When the Norwegian opened his eyes again, he saw that his brother staring at the table, a forlorn expression on his face. "Eiríkur? Litli bróðir?"

"Why does this always have to happen?" the Icelander whispered. "Why does someone always have to be fighting? Why can't we just get along?"

Lukas didn't answer. He had no answer. The best he could think of would be the fact that the humans didn't understand how pointless fighting each other and waging war was, but even some nations didn't seem to comprehend that, or at least didn't act like they do.

Instead, he just sat next to his brother and held him. "It will not be forever, Little Brother," he whispered in his ear. "Nothing ever lasts forever."

He just hoped that Ragnarök wouldn't be the thing to end it.


Translations:

Litli bróðir (Icelandic)- little brother

Notes:

June 10, 1940- Norway officially surrenders to Germany.

June 7- The King and government flee to the UK. (By the way, can I complain about how I finally found this information after I finish and post chapter 11, when I was trying to fit it in?)

The Black Death- You should all know what this was. Go look it up if you don't. Anyway, Norway was one of the hardest hit by it. I heard somewhere that a third of its population died, but I'm not sure how reliable that is. Either way, Lukas probably spent most of the outbreak bedridden and inadvertently scaring Eiríkur. Which is why neither of them like to remember it.

Weird blue fire surrounding Eiríkur- You know that weird, ominous aura that sometimes surrounds Russia and some other countries? Well, if a nation can use magic, they can potentially actually use it consciously to help with spells and other things like that, like getting through wards. Why does his look like blue fire? 1. It looks cool. 2. The background of his flag is blue. 3. Iceland. What color other than white do people make ice? And 4. Blue fire is the hottest type of fire, which fits due to the many volcanoes in Iceland.

Curls- Actually not my headcannon this time. I saw a(n unfortunately incomplete) fic about the Bad Friends Trio running around and seeing what the curls do. It never got to Norway's, but it got me thinking. First, I headcannoned it as putting him in Berserker mode if attached. Then I headcannoned it as getting him out of Berserker mode if pulled off his head. Then I saw another theory that if attached, it makes him act really happy, and based it off of that.

Killing has no permanent effect- I blame you guys for this one. Anyway, a nation can only die if their country does (though there are loopholes, because explain Prussia otherwise) or if their body is destroyed. If the second one happens, another personification will usually be born in their place, unless something weird happens.

Ragnarök- The end of the world in Norse Mythology. Except the world doesn't necessarily actually get destroyed and people actually live through it/somehow get resurrected after it. Also, it actually apparently doesn't mean "Twilight of the gods". Instead it apparently translates to something like "The Final Fate of the gods". The Twilight of the gods thing came from some German thing about it that I can't really remember.

So, this was a pretty short chapter. Sorry about that. I just couldn't figure out a good way to lengthen it without adding completely unnecessary things.

Also, why do I seem to have a habit of having Eiríkur start out the chapter comforting Lukas but end it the opposite? I don't mean to do it... It just happens...

Anyway, next chapter: Lukas has to explain just why he's staying in Iceland. Some people take it better than others.