THIS FIC ISN'T OVER! Almost everyone thought it was over! I'm so sorry for being so vague, that AN was misleading, huh?
Chapter Fourteen
Mathias twisted uncomfortably in his silken sheets, weaving his fingers tightly into the fabric. The moon shone brightly on the thin sheen of sweat that coated his brow as he writhed on his bed. Whimpers and distressed moans emitted from his pursed lips as he struggled to deal with the turmoil in his mind.
Faces flashed across the Dane's mind, each one scowling and mocking his flaws. Some he recognized such as the stoic man with glasses, and others like the stern and muscled blond, he didn't. Screaming filled his ears as visions of war and death raced around like haunting spirits. Memories spun around his head until they were all mixed together in a confusing blur of pain and suffering. Mathias whined and promptly forced himself to open his eyes, unprepared for the desolate surroundings he gazed upon.
Denmark opened his eyes to stare at the leafy treetops that loomed above him. Rain dripped into his eyes and soaked through his clothing, leaving the man all the more miserable. The Dane grunted and stood up, brushing twigs and mud of his back before coming face to face with the man he hated most. Sweden was glaring menacingly over the rim of his glasses while Finland huddled behind his back, peering out with scared eyes.
"We're l'ving Denm'rk, you c'n't st'p us." Denmark leered and stepped towards the shivering duo. The psychotic glint in his eye and fixed smile set Sweden on end and he pressed his wife further towards the trees and away from the threatening Dane.
"Maybe. Maybe I can't stop you," Denmark's wide grin stretched to an unrealistic length. "But I can sure as hell try." The Dane's grin dropped, and with a fierce snarl he lunged for the Swedish man.
Denmark gazed down upon the disapproving man, blinking away tears and suppressing the urge to reach out and grab the Norwegian in front of him. "Y-You're leaving t-too?" Norway merely nodded and grabbed his meager belongings. He bent down and scooped up a baby Iceland before turning to the doorway and striding towards it with long and purposeful steps.
"Sweden was right, Denmark. You've gotten power hungry. You're too abusive and controlling. No wonder they left, we all hate it here." The Norwegian's words pierced Denmark through his already broken heart. They hated him? He swallowed back a sob and shut his eyes tightly, forcing himself to listen to the receding footsteps of his best friend and secret crush.
As soon as they were out of ear shot, the Dane collapsed onto his knees and began to sob in earnest. He howled his grief to the world, yet no one was there to console him. Either that, or no one liked him enough be near him. He wept and curled his body further into his trench coat, relishing the warmth and coziness of the soft material. He cried until his tear ducts were dry and his throat rubbed raw.
The Dane let out a scratchy laugh that reverberated throughout the empty house. So what if those five hated him? He had other friends like….
No one. He had no one. For the first time since he had been born, Denmark was truly alone.
The year was 1943. Denmark wiped grime off his face as he surveyed his surroundings with a proud gaze. He was standing in the once pristine streets of Copenhagen, now full of dying fires and littered with dead bodies. It wasn't the wreckage of the city that had pleased him, it was the nazis that lay unmoving on the ground that made him feel twisted sense of satisfaction. The people of Denmark were finally revolting, living up to their country's image as a strong and dignified nation.
The ground quaked and as fast as Denmark's pride had appeared it was gone. The sound of guns filled the air as a squadron of German tanks made themselves known to the victorious Danish rebels. Denmark stood stoic while everyone else scattered, running in fear of their lives.
The leading tank halted in the middle of the paved street while the other five plowed on, picking out rebel hiding places and firing upon them. Denmark stared coldly at the blond who emerged from the tank and watched as he angrily barked orders to his men before storming over to the lone Dane. A fist cracked across Denmark's face and he fell to the ground, face void of emotion so as not to give the German satisfaction. Blinding agony shot through his cheek as he struggled to stand, only to be pushed down again by a steel-tipped boot. Germany dragged him upward by the collar and spit in his face.
"Care to tell me what this is, Dane?" Denmark spat a glob of blood onto the German's shining boots, ruining their perfect polish. Unintimidated, he glared straight into the German's eyes, blue flashing against blue.
"It's a riot, a successful one at that. Even a blind man could figure that one out genius." Germany's nose flared and he shoved the Dane back onto the concrete. He took a few calming breaths before shouting at two of his soldiers to grab the crumpled man on the ground. Each man seized one of Denmark's arms and dragged him backwards towards the tank. The Dane bared his teeth at the surveying German. The last this he heard before blacking out was the hateful words uttered by the man before him.
"I thought you of all people would be smart, Danemark. This choice of yours will cost you and your people greatly. I think it's high time I start looking into the religious beliefs of your people."
Norway huffed as he stomped up the stairs and down the hallway. For hours now he had been awake waiting for the Dane to make his way downstairs. The time was now 1:15 PM and the Norwegian was fed up with Mathias's laziness. He stormed to the Dane's door and angrily pounded on the wooden door. After eliciting no response from the other side, Norway slammed his fist against the door with his most fearsome glare as if hoping the sharpness of it would penetrate the thick barricade of wood. Once again met with silence, Norway readied his vocals to scream at the Dane while lifting his leg to bash the door down when all of a sudden it swung open, throwing the Norwegian off balance.
Mathias looked overall unkept. He had prominent bags under his eyes and his shoulders drooped the same way a war veterans would after returning from battle. Before Norway had a chance to question his looks, the Dane spoke two hurried, shaky, and jumbled words.
"I remembered."
Norway's eyes widened in shock and confusion at the sudden declaration. If Mathias remembered….
"Denmark?"
"Yes."
The Norwegian felt the corners of his mouth begin to twitch in the beginnings of a smile. On an impulse decision, he wrapped the taller man in a quick hug. His smile promptly fell when the Dane didn't return it. In fact, Denmark didn't seem happy at all. Norway furrowed his brow in concern and searched Denmark's face for any sign of joy. Instead of happiness, the Dane's features hardened into a cold stare and set jaw.
"Don't you want to know what I remembered, Norway?" Denmark carried on, only pausing to draw breath. "I remember Sweden, Finland, Iceland, and you leaving me alone in 1523. I remember sobbing and calling out for help, yet know one came. Everything that I loved, gone in a week. Can you imagine that?!"
Denmark's icy expression morphed into a gaze full of sorrow and pain. His posture was slumped and gave him the defeated look of a man who had lost one to many battles. "I remember being mocked for surrendering to Germany during World War II. When my people finally revolted, no one came to help. I was thrown in a cell and tortured for everyone's crimes. As long as one Danish citizen was involved, Germany could take out all his frustration on me. Even after the war was over I was shamed for not doing enough. No one knows what I had to endure!"
His chest heaved as the Dane struggled to draw in a gasping breath to continue on. Norway stood paralyzed with mute horror as Denmark proceeded with his rant. "But most of all, I remember you. You caused me the most pain out of everyone." Denmark stepped forward until he was looming directly over the Norwegian. His eyes bore into Norway's grey ones, unrelenting and resentful.
"And for that Norway, I hate you."
Norway's vision was tunneling and he was having a hard time standing up straight. Despite his weakening vision and legs, he was able to make out Denmark's next words with astounding clarity.
"Stay away from me Lukas Bondevick. Stay away and never come close to me again."
Norway's legs finally collapsed and he could barely make out the sound of receding footsteps through the white noise that filled his ears.
Denmark was right. He was starting to hate himself too.
Guys, just to specify I will make it very clear when the end of the story is. If I don't say END OF STORY then I am talking about the end of the chapter.