I guess the question I asked before was pretty vague... But thanks for the feedback :D
I'm just gonna alternate the plot and the waffle making, so here's a bit of plot!
Also, I know the dreams are weird but they're just there to spare me the trouble of having to tell the past in a boring manner.
THANKS TO ALL REVIEWERS! I know I don't answer a lot, and I feel really bad for it but I keep forgetting to do so. Sorry...?
Hetalia is mine, cause we all know fourteen - oh wait, soon to be fifteen! (insert a completely useless and exaggerated moment of excitement) - year old teenage girls who are too lazy to remove their keyboards from their drawing pads can all totally create a whole masterpiece like Hetalia.
No but serously, please don't sue me. I don't own Hetalia.
Iceland had always had a lot off potential concerning magic, he just couldn't be bothered to practice it, much to his brother's dismay. How many times had the latter lectured him on his 'wasted talent'? Sure he could see demons and fairies, sure he could even make a few spells if he tried but he found no particular interest in that kind of thing.
Somehow, he now regretted not taking it seriously.
He tore his gaze away from the car window the rain blurred and turned to his brother, who drove with a dark expression on his face.
Even the sky seemed to stir unusually violently.
"Are you sure?" he dared, his jaw partially resting on his palm.
The Norwegian sighed, much too exhausted to feel irritation "For the last time, yes. My eyes never lie when it comes to magic. That girl with the lighter… Irene, her coming to this world is bringing some sort of disaster upon us. Dark magic was seeping out of her in incredible quantities when I saw her in Poland a few days ago."
"Why couldn't I see it?" Iceland asked, aware of his natural skill in magic.
A smirk made its way on Norway's face "That's why you should have studied more carefully!" he teased. "Everyone specializes in different domains; I, for one, pride myself in manipulating pure magic energy which is why detecting flows of different kinds of magic is my speciality. You on the other hand are much more focused on demon summoning and controlling nature."
"Oh." Was all he could reply "So… Are we just the two of us? Or is England coming?"
"England? He can barely control that insane mass of power he has, bringing him is the same thing as committing suicide." Norway muttered "No, I have better allies."
"Your troll doesn't count." Iceland grinned.
Norway faked being hurt "Can't you trust my social abilities a bit more?" Iceland rolled his eyes "You'll see them once we get to the airport."
"Where are we going?" Iceland asked, unaware the airport was their destination.
"Mongolia." Norway shrugged.
The information took a while to reach his brain. "…Mongolia." He repeated "Some Belgo-swiss girl who lives in Hong Kong, was accidentally summoned by England and is currently living in Russia started spreading dark magic and we're going to Mongolia to stop her. This makes so much sense."
Norway shook his head "Don't use sarcasm with your onii-san."
"I am not calling you by that name."
Ignoring his brother, he continued "Mongolia wasn't picked at random. I managed to recognize the dark magic and its origin is most likely in Mongolia."
"Are you trying to confuse me on purpose?" Iceland growled "I thought Irene was the origin!"
The older brother sighed "Irene is something like a container," he explained "She's overflowing with magic that someone stored in her." His face scrunched in disgust "But for someone to put such an overwhelming quantity of it in a human… That's just plain cruel."
The island frowned "She looks fine."
"Physically." Norway completed "Mentally she's probably… Definitely… Different. Personally, whoever did what they did to Irene sicken me."
"This still doesn't make much sense." Iceland pointed out, determined to find out whatever he could "Irene is from another world, there's no way magic from our world could have infiltrated her body before, which means she got it after her arrival, That I can understand. But despite not having gone to Mongolia…?"
"That's not the worst." Norway groaned "The magic is old, centuries old. Irene is… what? Thirteen?"
"Fourteen."
The exhaustion Norway had managed to hide was crawling back on his face. Iceland could still remember how his brother had spent days working on what he saw before admitting needing help. How frustrating it must have been for the Scandinavian; he who hates relying on others.
If his brother was helpless in front of the mystery that Irene was wrapped in, what use could he be?
"Nothing makes sense!" The older snapped, abandoning his expressionless mask "It's not just her age or her being from a different world. The magic is the Golden Horde's, what possible reason could he have for using a human as a magic reservoir? How did he do it?" The Norwegian's body translated the man's irritation. His every muscles were tensed and his skin unnaturally pale; he literally looked like a panda with the dark circles around his eyes. Having that sort of complexion could not be healthy in any way.
"Stop the car." Iceland ordered "You haven't slept in days, Norway. Take a rest before we meet your allies."
"I'll sleep in the plane." Norway denied, clinging to the driving wheel protectively as his brother edged closer.
"No. You and I both know you'll be discussing magic crap with your friends for the whole ride." Iceland scoffed "Now stop the car, go on the backseat, sleep and I'll drive."
"You can't drive. You can't get a license 'till you're seventeen in Iceland." Norway pointed out while showing no sign of giving up.
"But we're in Norway and the age limit is sixteen which I am." Iceland retorted "Besides, I'm technically centuries old, do you really think I can't drive?"
"Ugh… Fine." Norway grumbled.
"Sometimes I wonder who the older brother is." Iceland sighed.
As soon as his head hit the seat, Norway fell asleep.
White drops of snow slowly danced towards the ground, flickering at every breath of wind. They all seemed like tiny light bulbs as the moon lit them, painting the sky bright.
A silence of death embraced the scenery and soothed Norway's heart. He watched the beautiful show the snowflakes put together, carefully keeping his eyes on them.
They were so calm.
The sky was the only thing that could brighten up after tragic events or cry on joyful occasions. Simply looking at it made Norway wondered if the wars he went through happened, it everything hadn't just been a dream. The sky certainly didn't seem any different than it was before the bloody massacres that had occurred during the past millenniums.
Staring at the endless entity was a way for him to temporarily forget about things.
However, never for too long.
Consequences never remained silent and the sky couldn't erase anything nor stop time in its tracks.
Even in a dream he was once again proven right.
Despite the tremendous amount of snow the night delivered, the ground wouldn't adopt the pure colour of frozen rain. No, it was set on keeping the nauseating shade of the flowers that had bloomed on its infertile land.
Crimson red flowers the size of a man grew by the second, spreading themselves on the abused soil. The same sickening flowers countries had seen too many times.
And as the flowers extended their petals, white was tainted red on the wide battlefield.
Only a boy managed to keep his pure colour, even as he held in his arms a woman dyed from her own blood.
Prussia. No, the Teutonic Knights.
The albino was the last one standing among the sleeping soldiers, supporting the weight of the dying life. It was a pity for such a beautiful woman to die, especially when her white hair and pale skin gave her the appearance of a gentle angel.
Only in a utopian world would the innocent strive over the strong.
Prussia's voice finally broke the silence.
"It's almost time, Kiev." He warned, a sad smile struggling to remain etching itself on his face.
"No." The woman denied "I can't die yet."
Her voice was weak but her eyes bore into the young boy intensely. She gripped his clothes to keep herself from wavering despite the agony in her shredded arm.
"Let's make a deal."
Prussia's expression turned surprised, almost horrified "Kiev. Don't make a deal with death… Please. It's not awesome."
"I'm sorry" She apologized, laughing at the younger nation's vocabulary "But I can't leave things as they are. I still need to accomplish one last thing."
"Don't…" the albino pleaded "You'll lose more than you'll win."
"Gilbert." She insisted "I can't allow for Russia to suffer because of me!"
Her injuries quickly caught up with her rising voice and her sentence ended in a succession of bloody coughs.
"Give me one week."
"Kie-"
"One week."
Prussia grit his teeth. His eyes avoided the woman's gaze as he spoke her penalty "General Winter will be hunting Russia for the whole week. If you avoid him, your son will die. If you protect your son, you will probably die. If you survive the whole week, you wish will have been granted. Are you sure? General Winter is especially powerful this year… Though you probably knew that. You're the reason for his unusual strength aren't you?"
"I guess we have a deal then." The woman smiled. She let go of him, closing her eyes as she passed out, leaving his question without answer.
"Cheating death is never a good thing." The Prussian warned before putting the weak body down, bathing her in the blood of her men. He took a last, long look at the reckless country before leaving and disappearing in the mist of snow.
"Mother!" a voice yelled as the boy left. A young Ukraine made her appearance, carrying bandages and all the medical supplies the time could offer. She kneeled besides Kiev, fiddling with the long bands of cloth and desperately trying to close the wounds.
"Oh God… If that Teutonic Knight kid had not told me about this… I don't dare think about what would have happened. Mother? Answer me! If you don't talk to me you'll fall asleep… Maybe forever…"
Norway tore his eyes from the two Slavic nations, losing himself in his questions.
He knew this dream wasn't just a dream, the dark magic that now polluted the air prevented such a thing. It was a memory but not his.
… Exactly who – or what was Prussia?
Iceland couldn't believe his friend! Why was he making waffles he needed him the most? He couldn't contact Irene either; her phone seemed to be busy.
Idiots.
It would have been much easier to ask the girl if she knew anything despite what Norway said. She wasn't a bad person, knowing she put everyone's safety in danger would definitely have made her reveal what she knew.
Iceland placed his phone in the shotgun seat. A cold breeze brushed against his hand, making him notice how tightly he had been holding his phone. His hand was almost drained from its blood. Creepy.
All this stress was really getting to his head. Why was he even involved in all this?
…
…
Oh right.
~Flashback~
"Iceland."
"Yeah Norge?"
"Onii-sa-"
"No."
"We need to go save the world."
*spits water*
"What?"
"Come on, Irene might destroy the world at this rate."
*forcefully dragged (*cough* Kidnapped *cough*)*
~end of flashback~
…
That didn't really answer why him.
Oh well, just going along the flow couldn't hurt… He hoped.
Iceland threw a glance behind to see his brother struggling with a nightmare. No wonder he was reluctant to sleep with a mind clouded by troubles. Sometimes he really wished he could do something for his brother, if only the older Nordic would allow it. Just how much pride must one have?
Norway's eyes shot opened.
"Are we there yet?" he asked.
"No." Iceland deadpanned "You barely slept for ten minutes."
"About that, I had a dream and Prussia was-" Norway started before his eyes widened in horror "ICELAND! THE ROAD! LOOK IN FRONT YOU-"
The teen swiftly turned his head, only to see two bright lights coming closer.
The rest was just one big mess.
Wheels screeching, people screaming, windows shattering, alarms ringing, metal ripping, horns wailing, pain spreading, cuts multiplying, fear growing, blood splattering…
And then darkness.
A twelve year old girl sat alone on a bench, drawing in a rather large sketchbook. Her brown hair was untamed and covered most of her face, making her look like a European Sadako. Her clothes however, refused to contribute to the image. Instead of a long white gown, she wore simple jeans and a black shirt, along with stripped red and white flip-flops.
Around her, kids of the same age ran around, playing games or chit-chatting in laughter. All of them were divided in groups and none were left apart… Except for her.
Nevertheless, not once did the girl look up from her block of papers in envy. To her, the word playground seemed to mean little. It was just one of many places.
She let out a long sigh.
Her earphones could only block so much noise.
Iceland crossed the crowded playground to sit next to her, realizing on his way that no one could see or touch him. It was only just a dream.
He threw a glance at her sketchbook and a sense of embarrassment took over him.
…
Was that girl drawing him?
Sure it was manga-style like but the clothes, Puffin… Yep. That was definitely him.
Irene had told him about a manga in her world that featured them.
So he was in her world, huh.
That wasn't all. There was no point in pretending he had not noticed: that girl was Irene.
How had she called that manga again?
"Hetaly?" Iceland whispered. No. It didn't sound right.
"Hetalia." Irene corrected, her eyes not leaving her canvas. "It's okay, most people don't know about it at all." Her voice held a leftover French accent that was already fading.
Did… Did she just hear me?
Iceland tried to hide his surprise behind his usual emotionless face only to realize it was vain. The girl showed no sign of wanting to look up. "So… uhm…" he started, unsure what to say "Nice day isn't it?"
And indeed the day was nice… Well as nice as a day could get in Hong Kong. Iceland was quite the observant type, he had noticed the Chinese road signs and the Cantonese conversations around… This world was an exact copy of his.
"Don't force yourself to talk to me." the girl deadpanned "Let me guess, either someone dared you to or no one took the initiative to warn you against."
The boy decided against saying no one could actually talk to him. "Why would they warn me against talking to you?"
"'Cause I'm mental." The girl shrugged.
Mental? He knew Irene wasn't normal, but mental seemed too strong of a word. It's not like he really knew much about her and her personality actually, who was he to judge her sanity? When he thought about it, no one knew anything about her and her life, not even Hong Kong…
Maybe this could be an opportunity to figure a few things out.
"You don't look mental to me." Iceland smiled "As a matter of fact, you look much more down-to-earth than those idiots playing with dolls and legos."
Irene let out a small laugh "Don't judge a book by its cover. I am mental. Well technically I have a mental disease."
That piqued his interest "Would it be prying to ask you what disease you have?" he asked.
The girl sighed "Are you from Hong Kong?" the boy shook his head "Are you going to stay in Hong Kong?" he shook his head again. "Then yes, it is prying. But since it's not like I'll ever cross paths with you ever again, I don't really mind sharing. Besides, anyone present here already knows." She flipped her sketchbook over to start a new drawing "I'm obsessed with fire."
"That's it?" Iceland couldn't help but think a simple obsession was nothing to fret over. Most countries had one. Maybe it was a human thing?
"Pyromania is an obsession that can't be ignored." Irene explained "Especially not when the 'patient', as they like to call me, nearly burnt down the whole orphanage."
Iceland stayed silent at the explanation. He wanted to ask why she had done such a thing, how she had ended up like that. He wanted to convince himself Irene was just a person whose luck turned bad… But what if she wasn't? The fear of Irene being a real psychopath overtook the nation. His best friend was almost always hanging out with the girl and – No. A human could never kill a country. Then again, was she human?
Another fact the island could not ignore was that Irene could talk to him. He wasn't an idiot; he knew this was not a simple dream but a memory, yet the girl could still interact with him. Was that because of the black magic?
"You scared yet?" she asked with a mocking tone.
Yes. Yes he was. "No." he lied "I am curious on the other hand."
"About what?" Irene questioned "Why am I in an orphanage? How am I able to talk without stuttering despite never having conversations with anyone? How I learnt to draw? Why my fingers are wrapped in band-aids? Why am I in a Hong Kongese orphanage when my nationality clearly is different?"
An uneasy feeling grew in the nation's stomach. Irene seemed so… dark, powerful yet weak, unstable. He couldn't describe how the girl looked to him, but one thing was sure. She scared him.
"How about why you don't look up from your sketchbook?"
"That's a simple one." She answered "It's 'cause the world is ugly. Real people lie and betray all the time, everyone is selfish. I'm not saying I'm an exception, I just enjoy lying to myself more than to others. Drawing and reading are like drugs, they create another world in the depth of my imagination, places I can escape to. You see, no matter how dystopian an imaginary universe is, it can only be better that our own. I know everything I picture is fake, but I'd rather live lost in an illusion than be brought back to this 'reality'."
The fear in Iceland stirred. Something was off, and not just the incredibly dark view of the world the twelve year old had. "Well you're rather pessimistic." He dared.
"Life's a bitch." The girl replied "It didn't really give me any opportunity to think otherwise."
Again. The cold emotion spread further in his mind.
"You'll never get any friends if you continue like that." He warned.
"Who said I didn't have any?" she retorted "I'm quite popular over the web actually. It's easier to act behind a screen. Moreover, most people there are like me; preferring fake friends to real ones. At least fake friends can't harm you."
Why was he so scared of a human? Every single word she pronounced seemed to put additional weight on his heart.
No. It wasn't her words.
Throughout the whole conversation, as the dark topics succeeded each other, Iceland could see it through her long bangs.
A sickening sweet smile.
"Why?" he decided to ask "How can you smile like that?"
The girl stopped drawing for a while, before stretching her smile further "I'm just respecting my mother's wishes: "If you can't fight, smile.""
LINEBREAK
SO. EFFING. LOUD.
Iceland could hear his ears complaining from the noise. Or maybe that was just the sirens wailing in the distance. Whatever.
He slowly tried getting up from his bed, looking for his missing pillow. He stretched his hand, grabbing for the first thing he reached. A deformed car door.
Funny. I don't remember having a car door in my room.
Nor a bed made of asphalt.
Nor so many road signs.
Are those trees?
Oh shit.
"Lukas!" Iceland yelled, finally remembering the accident. He quickly checked his own body, happy to see the small amount of injuries he had were already healing thanks to being a nation. Satisfied with his health, he rummaged through the metallic mess, looking for the Norwegian.
He knew his brother couldn't die of a car crash.
He knew his wounds would heal within a month, no matter how bad they were.
He knew the pain would pale compared to what he had been through.
But it was his fault nevertheless everything happened.
"Lukas!" He cried again, desperate to find Norway.
"E-Emil." Came a weak reply. The boy quickly got rid of all the scraps that separated him from the voice and finally found himself face to face with his brother.
"Lukas! Thank God I found you, let's get you out of he-" he started, only to be interrupted.
"Emil. Go to the airport. Meet the others. We d-don't… have…. Time." The man winced I pain between two ragged breaths "Don't worry about me. I-I can't die. Not of this."
What was that stuck to his brother's chest?
…
What was that impaling Lukas?
Why the blood?
"Emil." Norway hissed, noticing the horror in his brother's eyes "Go."
The Icelander took a last, long look of his brother before turning and running towards the end of the deserted road.
Ten minutes. Had I been attentive for ten small minutes we would have made it.
Damn it.
See? There's actually a story behind this fanfiction! Yipee! I'll give imaginary cookies to those who can guess who Norway and Iceland are going to join (hint: They are two and both are countries ;))(other hint: I'm sure you'll all guess one of them and never the other).