Then

Denmark was the type of guy who always needed things hisway – even when were little. Once, we were discussing on what sort a ruler would the best ruler. We wrote down qualities on paper and took turns reading out our opinions. When it was Denmark's turn, my brother had proudly stood up with a million dollar smile. He had only one word scribbled across the large paper: SELFISHNESS.

Finland had asked him to explain his choice, and Denmark said: "everybody needs to follow the leader. If he gives away bits and pieces of his land to small lords, he wouldn't have complete control over everything. The kingdom wouldn't be so united otherwise. That's why he's got to keep everything and not give anything away. He's gotta be stingy."

Back then, I simply dismissed the fact as bogus and Norway had sarcastically added "you're going to be a shit leader, Den" while the Finnish hushed him for his language.

When we ended the discussion for tea, I saw Sweden give Denmark a pat on the back and a thumbs-up to show his support. For as long as I could remember, Sweden and Denmark were always on the same side.

"Jesus, you need longer legs Ice!" Denmark laughed heartily when he saw my face, red with effort and severe lack of stamina. "Gotta learn to do everything quicker from now on. Talk quick, run quick, think quick…" As he said this, the Dane bent down and gently flicked me on the forehead.

"I'm not as tall or as strong as you are, big brother…" I grumbled, pulling my scarf over my nose to block out the cold.

"Yeah yeah, all in a good time eh?" Denmark held out a handful of silver coins.

"…?"

"I brought ya here to make a wish. Y'know how it works… think of something real hard, wish for it real hard, and toss the coin into the river," the Dane explained.

The water of the river hadn't quite frozen over yet. The water level, however, had dropped considerably, revealing the smooth, shiny pebbles sitting at the bottom. As I leant forward with Denmark, I could see our reflections as clear as day, staring back at us. The moon formed a perfect white circle, slightly distorted by the ripples made by the flow of the water. Tiny, silver fish darted around the rocks like seams of loose ribbon.

I told my brother that this was one of those one time things, where you only had one wish. Once the first coin had sunk to the bottom of the river, you couldn't be granted any more wishes.

Denmark frowned and stared down at the bag of coins.

"Well this sucks. Alright then, make one wish. Don't waste it!"

As I watched my brother shut his eyes and furrow his brow, I wondered if I would ever be as tall as he was. Den's coin plummeted to the bottom of the lake when he had finished wishing.

I asked him what he had wished for.

"Can't tell you, Ice. Won't come true if I spill it. Now hurry and do your wish!"

"I'm doing it; don't hurry me."

When were done, the two of us lay on the riverbank, gazing up at the sky. It was stained a deep hue of grey. Denmark insisted it was black.

"It's the same as deep grey," he argued, standing up. "See, Ice, all things that sound different may actually be the same. Kinda like how Norge calls me a dougebag and how Finland calls me Den. They both refer to me anyways. Just different sayings. Although," my brother's eyebrows twitched and his lips pulled downward slightly, "I don't really like Norge calling me that."

"What's a dougebag?"

"Dammit Ice! Ask Norge!"

Denmark scooped up a generous amount of coins in his palms, the silver metal clinking as they came into contact.

"Ice," my brother addressed me, suddenly serious, "I'll tell you this – the future ain't gonna be easy. When we grow up, we'll fight more. A lot more. But I don't want you to worry 'cause at the end of the day, it's always gonna be ok."

"You mean we'll hide each other's cereal boxes more? Or eat each other's share of corn chips?"

"Depends."

Denmark released the coins above my small body. "To the uncertain future," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, letting the coins fall down onto me like stars coming loose from the heavens.

Now

I waited, and waited, and waited. Nobody came. Sweden had left, Finland following. Denmark had disappeared. Norway wasn't coming back for me. Refusing to cry and further, I put on a coat and followed Sweden's footsteps out into the snow.

My boot was hardly the size of Finland's boot prints. Letting my foot sink into the soft snow next to Sweden's foot print, I was reminded of how much smaller I was. What could I do? What would I do even if I followed my brothers? What was I trying to do?

"Are…you sure this is ok?"

Hearing Finland's worried, gentle voice, I instinctively hid behind a tree. I knew that if my brothers saw me, they'd send me back. I didn't want to go back. I could see that I was going to be left behind.

A soft grunt from Sweden was taken as a reply as my brothers walked in silence. "You do know that you're going to be leaving your brothers behind? Surely you do care about Denmark deep down inside…?" Finland added cautiously.

"If you don't want to follow, don't." Sweden interjected sharply.

Finland's amethyst eyes widened, hurt. "You could… tell Iceland and Norway that I'll always be their older brother," Sweden continued more softly, "and I'll miss them." At the last sentence, I saw a flash of regret and pain through his eyes as I felt my heart strings snap.

"You'll be all alone…"

"...I don't care anymore."

"Why… do you do this to yourself, Sweden?" Finland had begun to cry, soft hiccups emerging from within his coffee coloured woolen over shirt. Watching Finland set me off, and I furiously blinked, knowing my own similarly coloured eyes had begun to water.

Sweden had never really been the touchy type of person. While Denmark had enjoyed giving all his brothers hugs, pokes, ruffles on the head, friendly slaps on the back or cheek kisses; my bespectacled older brother showed disdain and embarrassment to being hugged or touched. I assumed that it was because he was nearly a head taller than Denmark, our second tallest brother.

Slowly wrapping his arms around Finland's small shoulders, Sweden embraced Finland, his eyes slightly damp.

"I'm sorry Fin."

"Then don't –"

From where I was standing, I could see most of Sweden's back and a little of Finland's face. His large, violet eyes were like the shiny foil of the Cadbury chocolates we ate during Christmas. He was looking up at Sweden, but the whites of his eyes were too large. Far too large.

"Fin…land?"

The said person collapsed onto the ground, the snow beneath him stained pink. "What…" Sweden stared down at his own gloved hands, stained crimson.

I wanted to scream, but my throat had twisted itself into a knot. I could smell blood. Covering my mouth, I watched in fear and horror as a shadow approached Sweden's back. I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting the worst.

The next thing I heard was the sound of two pieces of metal grating each other. Opening my eyes, I saw that Sweden had drawn his sword. The same sword I had cut myself on so many years ago.

On the other end was another man with wild, blonde hair. He was a little shorter than Sweden clad in a long black cape. I knew his face, but I didn't know this person. His eyes were different; they were so full of killing intent and murderous aura that the blue sea seemed that it had been dyed red.

I didn't know this person. I didn't.

"Why brother… Denmark…"