Then

The days passed by slowly back then – there was nothing much to do. If we weren't jumping across small brooks by the forests in the summer, we were ploughing our way through a meter of snow and losing our boots amidst the white sea during the winter. We lay on our backs in the late afternoons when the sun wasn't quite so high up in the sky, admiring the fluffy white balls of cotton wool that floated in the sky. The days were so halcyon that almost every passing day was exactly the same as the last.

One day, Denmark came back with a sword. It was heavy and large, and despite being the strongest of the five of us he couldn't wield it properly. Norway had shifted himself in front of me as I watched my older brother wave around the large blade in wonder. Sweden gave the Denmark a disapproving glare and retrieved the sword from the Dane. Without considering how dangerous the sword would be, I ran up to Sweden and begged to see it. When my brother set it down in front of me, I couldn't help but admire it; the handle was made of gold which had grown dark and dirty, but the blade was a shining silver, polished so clean that I could see my own reflection in it. In amazement, I lightly ran my palm over the blade, expecting it to be smooth and slippery.

The next thing I knew, there was a bright streak of red staining the section where the blade and my flesh had met. I glanced stupidly at my own palm. There was a clean cut running from the tip of my index finger to the base of my palm, the cut flesh was white with large pearls of red welling up around the corners. The middle of the cut was stained a deeper crimson, the blood spreading out like a blooming poppy flower. I heard a scream, presumably Finland, and another deeper voice barking orders. Somebody – Norway? – scooped me up, carrying me to the couch to tend to my wound.

As my palm was swabbed with alcohol, Denmark scolded me for being so foolish. He had his brows furrowed, and creases formed between them. I had never seen him so angry.

"What were you thinking, touching that sharp blade? Let alone giving it a rub with your bare hand? Are you stupid, Ice? Tell me. You lil' thing hasn't got any brains yet, eh, seeing as how utterly disgusting it is to see you acting like a dolt!" he leered at me.

His contempt stung, and I didn't reply, turning pink and stared down at my lap. For the rest of the day, I couldn't meet Denmark's eye. Finland fussed more than usual, insisting on feeding me my soup and changing my bandages on an hourly basis. Sweden didn't seem to care much, but sat down to watch me while I struggled to strike a match from a matchbox with only one hand before getting up to help me. When I passed Norway in the corridor, he had gently ruffled my hair and gave me a pat on the back.

I couldn't sleep that night. Instead, I walked into the field of grass behind the house and sat down, as if the breath-taking starry sky could make the pain and embarrassment I felt go away. Hearing a small fft sound, I looked down to see a few small silver coins sliding down the surface of my shirt.

"Hey Ice."

Denmark gave me one of his usual friendly grins, his hands cupping a small heap of silver coins.

"…Den?"

My older brother was acting as if nothing had happened.

"C'mon," he urged, jerking his head in the direction of the nearby river, "let's go to the river." Looking confused, I stood up clumsily.

"What're you waiting for?" he said impatiently, already breaking into a brisk walk. "We haven't got all night!"

Holding on to the three coins tossed at me, I timidly followed the looming shadow my brother.

"Aren't you angry at me?" I managed in a small voice.

Denmark didn't turn back to look at me, but he slowed his pace a little.

"Nah."

There was something about the tone of his voice that made me feel at ease. It became noticeably gruff, but all its sharp edges and corners had been rubbed off. The energetic voice softened as the Dane turned round to look at me.

"Not anymore."

This was my older brother. He just had to act tough all the time. I couldn't help but smile.

"What're you laughing at, dwarf," he demanded, but I could tell that he was teasing. He had a playful smile on his face and his blue eyes were glowing.

It seemed like a fairy tale – like Hansel and Gretel leaving a trail of white stones – as we made our way to the river underneath the Prussian blue sky.

Now

The next morning, the house was silent. When I woke up, there was but an absentmindedly buttered French loaf sitting on my bedside table. There wasn't anybody at home. Not anymore.

The cold outside was bitter and hard, but I ate my breakfast outside on the patio, wondering how on earth the sun could continue shining so diligently despite being blocked by a heap of large grey clouds. How could the rest of this universe go about their daily lives as if today was like no other ordinary day? The bread was tasted like cardboard in my mouth, and I threw it out to the birds. As I watched the bread sink beneath a few centimeters of newly fallen snow, I couldn't help but wonder where the rest of my family was.

Lying down on the cold stones, I flung my arm over my eyes so that I didn't have to see what was so painfully obvious in front of me.

Norway didn't return that night, but the other three did. I eased my door open a little to see what was going on.

"Hey, Sweden."

Denmark's voice. There was something not quite right about it. When Denmark was angry he'd shout, loud and fierce. This voice was quiet and dangerous, dripping with poison. Like a microscopic virus, waiting to escalate into something huge and wreck havoc.

Silence.

"I heard you're leaving the union," Denmark's voice continued. The floor boards creaked as he took a step forward. "I heard right, didn't I?"

"Yes."

The acknowledgement of the statement came, cold and hard. Sweden's voice was similar to Denmark's, but deeper and grander.

Next came a flurry of steps as somebody ran into the room. A third party.

"Sweden!"

This voice belonged to Finland. Finland's voice was a lot higher than ours – often warm and soft – full of curves and smooth edges. But now, it was just shrill and slightly grating. I clenched the fabric of my maroon pants, wondering where the old Finland had gone.

"Sweden! Is this true?" my brother half-shouted at the bespectacled man.

"Fin, stay out of this."

"What's your business is mine!"

In a flash, Sweden had pinned his smaller brother to the wall by his shoulders. "I tell you stay out of this, you do as I say," he said fiercely.

Sweden, my quiet, respectable, and surprisingly docile older brother now frightened me. His blue eyes were like glaciers, menacing and daunting.

"Right."

Denmark took another step forward, his fists balled up.

"Right. Cut the crap already. You're far too weak, you'll die out there! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING." Denmark swung out at the taller nation, catching him on the side of his face and throwing him off balance.

Finland, being released from Sweden's iron grasp, dug his fingernails into his palms as if the pain would help him forget what had happened. Sweden's hand shot up to where he had been hit, his eyes flashing indigently. From where I was crouched, Sweden looked like he was bowing to his older brother. My dignified, prideful brother had lowered his head. Biting my lip, I willed myself not to cry.

"…Denmark…"

Sweden stood up, adjusting his glasses. "…I don't like being treated weak."

The Dane snorted. "Really? You think I exaggerate things?"

My brother's eyes flashed brighter than ever. Grabbing Denmark by the throat, Sweden lifted him off the ground with ease. With his strong hands wrapped firmly around his brother's windpipe, the latter begun to choke.

"Stop being so proud," the Swedish grated out, "it makes me sick."

Denmark couldn't respond, but a spark ignited in his eyes.

"Sweden!" Finland panicked, pulling on one of Sweden's hands. "Stop it! Don't kill him!"

I saw Sweden turn towards his younger brother, his face softening. Giving one last hard stare at Denmark, the Swedish released him from his clutches as the Dane crumpled onto the ground, struggling to breathe.

Before I could say anything, Sweden had thrown open and had marched out of the door into the howling blizzard. Finland seemed momentarily torn at the decision of attending to Denmark or following Sweden; finally choosing the latter for reasons he didn't quite understand, my brother grabbed a coat and called for Sweden to wait up.

Easing the door shut using my foot, I pushed myself as far back into the corner of the wall as I could; stuffing three fingers into my mouth so that I wouldn't cry out loud as hot tears ran down my cheeks. Silently rocking back and forth, I realized that even after all these years, Norway was always the one I always relied on to make things right for me. I had complete faith that he had the power to do so.

Except for now.