'Love is just an imagination created by our brain… It drives people crazy as it decepts one's mind'
Sweden jerked awake. His eyes unbolted hastily. A surge of nausea and pain immediately ran through his body.
Berwald's head was throbbing badly as if someone was hitting the walls of his cranium with a big metal bat. Sweden shut his eyes back, hard, in an attempt to drive the pain away.
His teeth gritted and clenched against each other. His body was being forbidden from turning as chains and cuffs limited his every stir.
"Danmark!.." Sweden hissed. "Vad gör du mod mig?"
Anger clearly laced within his every word. His rage was stopped with another series of unbearable pain that assaulted his body.
A big gash engraved itself upon Sweden's back. A warm sensation of blood oozing out the wound followed soon after.
It was another mark for another tragedy. Another memory for another episode of his life.
"...Stockholms… Blodbad…" The nation named it; his volume barely a whisper.
His moans of pain and agony echoed and unheard within the cold, dark cell before he finally fell deep into a blissful darkness.
When Sweden realized, he was standing by the side of an icy lake. The solid water extended beyond the horizon, shimmering as the sun piercing through the clouds reflected upon them.
The pair of emerald eyes scrutinized its surroundings in an attempt to comprehend his current position.
After glimpses of familiar mountains and lands, Berwald assumes that he was somewhere within the province of Lappland. And it was the lake of Luossajärvi that lay vast before him.
The Swede tries to figure out when and how he got here, but he could not recall a single thing from his mind. His eyes wondered ubiquitously before it ended up staring to the sky.
The sky was coated with a layer of darkening clouds, heavy and solid as it hurled flakes of frozen rain.
The snow silently dusted the earth with its white colour. The northern wind blew callously to a freezing temperature, slumbering every animals and plants to their winter sleep.
Berwald stood at the same position, contemplating.
A voice that shattered the silence broke his concentration.
"Sverige! Be careful! You might be standing on thin ice!" Sweden heard his name being called from behind him. The voice was oddly similar to someone he knew, but was much younger…
He turned his body and saw a figure of a young boy running towards him. His spiky, blonde hair bobbed up and down; face tinged with healthy pink from the coldness; his hands were waving frantically.
It was Denmark, Sweden noticed, but it was a much younger account of him.
"...Ja, Danmark… b't we need t' cross the r'ver t' get t' the oth'r side." A mumbled sentence answered, this time coming from behind him.
Berwald twisted his body in reflex, having to found out that someone was situated behind him without him noticing.
And this time, he saw the younger version of himself. Squatting down on the frozen lake as he checked the thickness of the ice by touch.
His eyes widened in surprise when he saw the two, but he softened the gaze soon when he figured out the whole illogical ordeal.
'Aah… So this must be within my dream…' He thought.
The personification of Konungariket Sverige's lips was tugged up slightly to a rare, soft smile.
Though Sweden didn't want to admit it, he did miss the old days. He remembered every second he spent with Denmark and the rest of the Nordic nations. Their Viking days were filled with misadventures and new discoveries as they journeyed for lands. He knew that the Dane was mischievous, but before he realizes, Denmark had grown into someone he no longer knows, land-hungry and greedy.
Sweden returned his gaze towards the frozen lake of Luossajärvi. Soft snows continued to fall from the greying sky, slowly blanketing the land of his nation to pure whiteness… His body felt cold, but his heart was warm when he sees his childhood playing again right before his eyes.
"… I knew you must have missed me, Sverige…" A voice whispered to his ears. The tone was devious, his breath hot and moist.
A hand then crept to touch his chin, another covered his eyes. The skin was cold and freezing. Shivers went down Sweden's spine just from the temperature.
"gæt hvem?"
Berwald froze at once, unable to move even a single limb. The Swede's heart beating faster. Cold sweat began welling on his forehead.
He knew who's behind him.
Denmark…
"Danmark!" He gritted through his teeth. Why, even in his deepest dreams, must this man appear before him?
"Wow, Sverige!~ Good guess! I am impressed!" The Danish chuckled and hugged the taller of the two close to him from behind. Sweden scowled.
The Dane was juvenile and cruel. A perfect example of an overgrown child.
"Försvinn, Danmark!" Sweden hissed. His tone poisonous. "Jag hatar dig för att du tog min frihet ifrån mig!" Sweden shouted; pouring his every wrath through the sentence that was currently spilling out of his mouth. His facial expressions were creased into that of hatred.
The Dane just smiled.
"Well, if you despised me, Sverige. Hvordan kan det så være at jeg er (med) I dinne drømme?" Denmark played with his tone.
Berwald's green eyes widened in astonishment. His mind spun as he tried to answer the awkward question given by the unwanted man, but his thoughts failed to comply so.
Unaware of his own showing vulnerability, Sweden felt a pair of hand abruptly pushed him down to the ground. The Swede's body stumbled and impacted fiercely to the surface of the solid ice. And before Berwald even had a chance to push himself to stand, Denmark had pinned him in-between his hands.
"…Doesn't it prove that you still have feelings for me?" The man atop him sneered.
"Ja, Sverige?" The man continued. Smiling enigmatically as Denmark lowered himself to kiss Sweden into a mirage of an illusionary kiss…
Berwald immediately shut his eyes. All he needed to see now was the darkness behind his eyelids.
Sweden was awoken, startled by his own dreams.
His breathing heavy and hitching; body drenched in sweat and blood from the still-throbbing wound embed on his back. The Swede's lips were cracked and dried from dehydration.
'Gudskelov... It was just a dream…' Berwald thought.
He tried to shift his body a little bit to a more comfortable position, but failed as his moves were restricted by the bounds. His hands were still hanged onto the cuffs and his feet still chained to the heavy weight.
He was back to the reality. The lake of Luossajärvi no longer rested before him.
The prisoner of the Danish atrocity sighed. He stared blankly at the darkness that has replaced the vast Swedish land. The views of the scenery from his dream were still freshly engraved within his mind...
"God morgen, Sverige! I'm here for your breakfast!~" A voice interrupted his daydream. Happy and guiltless.
Denmark popped out of the heavy door that was separating the prison cell to the warmth of the sun outside. The hands of the Northern King were carrying a tray consisting of a simple meal of bread and a glass of water. He placed the tray in front of his captive and stood in front of him.
"...How's your body?" Denmark asked; this time, his tone was a little lower and full of concern.
The Swede didn't answer and proceeded with his code of silence.
Denmark sighed knowingly. His long fingers, tenderly, touched Sweden's cheek. Those nimble digits dexterously traced along the strong jaw lines of Berwald's chiseled features with feather-light touches. It halted on the neckline of the silent man. Denmark's face drew nearer and nearer towards Sweden's. Those hungry orifices stopped at the bridge of Berwald's neck; sucking on the tender skin to leave another mark of love.
"...du hviste at jeg gjorde alt dette for di egen skyld?" The captor whispered slowly. His face pushed away from where it was. His deep, cerulean eyes met with a pair of cyan that belongs to Berwald.
Sweden spat on Denmark's face, uncaring of the consequences for what he just did.
"Du är tokig…"
Denmark's patience had been eaten up. He harshly punched the side of the weakened country before him in a fit of rage.
"Du er nok så ringe og afmægtig og endnu jer lagde ikke mærke til..." Denmark said. His hands stumbled to assault Berwald's spread thigh.
And all Sweden could do was to close his eyes and pray to god. Submitting himself to the controlling hands of the Dane...
Author's Note: YAY FOR DENSU~! AND YAY FOR CHAPTER TWO~! OH MY GOD, THIS CHAPTER TOOK ME VERY LONG BECAUSE OF MY PART-TIME JOB! (imagine me working from 2 in the afternoon until 10, reaches home only when it's around 11:15) AND THIS WAS DONE AT 5 IN THE MORNING
My geography sucks and that made me have to go and check Wikipedia very often now and then for locations that I think is suitable for the story, if you saw any mistakes with the setting and language, do tell me~! Because I, myself, do not believe in online translators. And I just realized that I spelled Berwald as Berwarld… I'm changing everything now…
Thank you to all readers who reviewed the first chapter of this fic~! XD jen789-san, bloominpoppies-san, -san, Meta-chan-san and Pashiki-san!
Hope you enjoyed chapter two! (And that you're not bored of pr1s0ns3x... orz)
Thank you Nyou-san for the correction of the Swedish lines! 3 I was cringing at my own work looking at the screwed up,online-translated sentences :9
And Thank You again for Meta-chan! You rock! :D
Translations:
Vad gör du mod mig (Swedish)-What are you doing against me
Stockholms Blodbad(Swedish)-Stockholm's Bloodbath
Konungariket Sverige(Swedish)-The Kingdom of Sweden
gæt hvem(Danish)-Guess who
Försvinn(Swedeish)-Go away
jag hatar dig för att du tog min frihet ifrån mig (Swedish)- I hate you for stripping me away from my freedom
Hvordan kan det så være at jeg er (med) I dinne drømme(Danish)- How come I can be within your dreams
Gudskelov(Swedish)-Thank god
God morgen(Danish)-Good morning
du hviste at jeg gjorde alt dette for di egen skyld (Danish)-You knew that I did this all was for your own good
Du är tokig (Swedish)-You are crazy
Du er nok så ringe og afmægtig og endnu jer lagde ikke mærke til. (Danish)-You are very small and powerless, but yet you didn't notice.