Author: Cyhirae
Edited: Lumineux

Disclaimer: Hetalia, the characters and the songs referenced are not mine or Lumineux's; they belong to their respective creators. We just borrowed them for this dark little story.

With the curtains drawn, it hadn't taken the room long to grow dark. Denmark had not come back; Norway hadn't expected him to after that. He laid there for a time, getting his breath steadied out before he rose from the bed; he had heard the bolt set into place, but he crossed the room to it anyway and gave it an experimental push. The heavy door barely so much as rattled with the attempt.

"Damn it…" He turned to the window next, curtains thrown aside and searched it for any kind of means to be opened; when it became apparent it was never meant to be opened, he beat against the glass in a low growl of frustration.

It didn't even so much as crack. Trust that Denmark would think of something practical like shatterproof glass for his home's windows. He could be such an unobservant idiot some days but on others? He was entirely too forward thinking for anyone's liking.

Somewhere down there, the remaining Norwegians were hearing out Denmark's proposal with no idea of what it would mean in the long term. Norway leaned his head against the glass, eyes closed; the glass was far too cool for this time of year, but he barely noticed. He had to get out and to them somehow- he had to warn them what taking the easy solution would mean.

Selfish? Yes, maybe it was…but he would never forget nearly four hundred years of watching his people be the bottom rung of Denmark's society. They had been in their own "Dark Ages" then; they were signing on for another if the let this happen. He had to warn them.

The window refused to give anymore on a second pounding than it had on the first; nor did the door prove anymore forgiving than it had on the initial try. He shook and beat on it, yelling to try to get the attention of anyone that might be passing by; there wasn't even the sound of foot steps coming by in curiosity.

There was no one else in this house to even hear him, let alone set him loose. He was trapped in here until Denmark saw fit to set him loose again. The vote would be over long before that came to pass. Frustration clawed at his throat in rough, helpless gasps that threatened to become coughing again rising up as his teeth ground together.

There were so few of his people now he could all but feel each one settling on their particular vote. He closed his eyes again as he felt that wave of decision sweeping over his people. Norway began to think back to a time not so long ago where he had been on his own and doing well by it; but no. Even that had been filled with its uncertain moments and had not existed without interruption.

There had not been a true century of true independence since the days of what so many erroneously referred to as the dragon ships. They had stood on their own in the time between World War II and World War III, but it had not been even a solid century since II. No, when they roamed the seas was when Norway had known freedom in its truest of forms.

Before the plague, before the famines- Denmark had challenged him, as had Sweden and he had given as good as he got, if not better. But it was when they had taken to the seas that they had truly made their mark on the world; fierce, independent and fearing no one at all.

There had been no cowering in dark rooms or thoughts of giving up even a bit of that freedom for the safety of letting someone else make the decisions for him. The Anglo and Celtic islands had been the ones living in terror then and they had even touched on the far shores of what people would later call "The New World".

Norway curled his fingers into the carpet roughly, tearing bits of the yarn free. What he wouldn't give to have those days back again; he'd trade all the technology that had followed for them. His people didn't share that sentiment en masse, however. They wanted their lives back to how they were before the bombs fell; before the sicknesses and radiation had driven them to the only 'safe' places in his land, high into the mountains and glaciers where no bombs or missiles had been sent.

The only trouble to that ploy had been the unforgiving winters, no kinder in their way than the other things that ravaged the people.

It was ironic; both he and his people longed for 'what had been'; his desires merely went further back than a handful of years ago. Unlike his, however, theirs could be more easily re-attained…at a price.

With every vote cast, he could feel the bars raising higher and drawing nearer; some voted against, bless them…but they were too few. The majority of his people were sick, tired and wanted to have some security in their lives again. He couldn't fault them for that.

He only wished he wasn't the one that would have to pay for it, along with their future generations.

The final vote was cast; he could feel his fate settling on him already. The takers of the vote would be counting them well into the night before it was official, but he didn't need a count. They had chosen security over the unknown; a chance to get their lives in order and then, perhaps, beginning the long and painful process of restoring their homeland- and by necessity, that of Sweden and Finland as well, to avoid the toxins and diseases from simply returning with each year's passing.

Denmark would gladly fund that effort, he was sure. He always made such grand, sweeping gestures to show how generous he was. Naturally, some kind of return was expected, however. That was simply how things worked.

It was going to be a very long time before Norway was properly Norway again and not a Danish city or territory, if ever it did. It had taken a downright infuriating situation for his people to properly break free in the first place. If the boat wasn't rocked by someone else, they simply adapted and moved on.

He would do the same, he knew. And he hated himself for it, at this moment…but what could any of the nations do save follow their people's wishes, particularly when there was no leader to check opinion and call attention to details?

There was the sudden sound of footsteps outside the door; it had been over two centuries now since he'd actively lived in this house and he still knew the sound of Denmark's stride. He reached up to grab the knob as he heard the lock coming undone; he didn't want to see him right now.

The knob jiggled about in his hand as Denmark attempted to open the door; Norway turned toward it, grabbing it with both hands to keep it still. After a moment, there was a sigh and the knob ceased its attempts to turn, with a dull thump on the other side.

"All right, Norge…we'll discuss it tomorrow then. …Try to get some sleep…" Then the steps went back down the hall. The bolt was not set in place this time; it would be easy to simply open the door and leave, if he were anything but a nation.

The lock wasn't needed to keep him in now. Norway released the knob and leaned against the door, fist thumping hard against the wood.

"You always mean so well, Danmark…but why is it you can never listen to what someone is telling you?"