Chapter Two- In Which The Nordics Explore Norway's Memories

"So...this section of Noregur's mind must be his memories," Iceland said thoughtfully. "I suppose we have to find him in here somewhere..."

Denmark swung his axe impatiently. "Come on, Ice, this is the time to ACT! Lillebror Norge is in trouble!"

Sweden glared at Denmark. "D'sn't m'n w'c'n r'sh 'ff 'nd g't 'nto d'nger." ((Doesn't mean we can rush off and get into danger.))

"Sve, now I know why he likes me better," Denmark taunted. Sweden lunged at him.

"T'ke th't b'ck, Danmark."

"Aha, NO," Denmark said, rolling to the side. "Lillebror likes me better and you know it."

Sweden glared and prepared to assault Denmark again.

"Ruotsi."

"Danmörk."

"Stop."

"Now."

The two eldest Nordics fell silent. "Right," Finland said sweetly, "Let's just walk and see where Norway's mind takes us. Ei, Ruotsi? Tanska? Islanti?"

The other three nodded assent. They stood up and began to walk.

This section of Norway's mind seemed to fit Finland the best. It was happy, populated entirely by happy memories of Norway's younger days (and some of young Iceland, too. The other three teased Iceland upon remembering, causing the youngest Nordic to blush. But then they would push onwards.) Memories that showed a happier Norway, a laughing Norway.

"When did he change?" Iceland murmured.

Denmark and Sweden exchanged a glance. "It should be coming any minute now."

The sky turned blood red, the grass began to die. The plants around were withered, and in a valley below opened an ocean of blood. Lightning cracked across the sky as the four remaining Nordics watched the sea battle unfolding.

On one side was Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, each with their own ships; there were too many to count. And on the other side, a kingly man in possession of eleven ships total. The battle raged for what felt like hours, until Norway's ship broke through the barricade surrounding the kingly man's ship. Defeated, their enemy jumped into the sea. The observing Denmark and Sweden flushed scarlet.

"B'ttle 'f Svolder," Sweden muttered, embarassed.

"Ja, lillebror sure showed us who wore the pants, huh?!"

"'Nd 't w's'n't y'u."

"Or you!"

"Sh't 'p."

"Heh."

"Wait," Iceland said. "Look around." He pointed out the decayed grass. "That obviously means something, já?"

"I suppose," Denmark said, shrugging. "I wouldn't know."

Sweden rolled his eyes. "Danmark, y' r'm'mb'r h'w Norge w's 'ft'r Svolder."

Denmark sighed. "Ja, that's when we truly lost the old him...he made us swear never to tell any stories about those days."

A dry, smoky wind blew through the dead land. Denmark turned away. "Let's just keep going."

Finland, Iceland and Sweden exchanged a glance and followed. Iceland and Finland glanced back at the battlefield.

"Norja," Finland murmured, "What have we gotten into?!"

"What's this?" Iceland asked as they walked into a room. The path led directly through, and out the other wall, but the two inhabitants- a memory of a younger Denmark an Norway- did not notice or care.

"Norge, it's for the best!" the memory-Denmark said.

Memory-Norway was silent for what felt like hours. Then he slowly nodded. Memory-Denmark grinned, pulling him away.

"You can get back on your feet at my house. It'll be much safer for ya there."

Denmark frowned, looking down. "He never wanted to...I shouldn't have forced him."

"Th' s'c'nd t'me, h' w'sn't s' l'cky 's t' h've a ch'ce," ((The second time, he wasn't so lucky as to have a choice,)) Sweden pointed out.

"Well, true. I was just trying to help."

"I know," Iceland said quietly. "I know."

"Hej, he needed my help!"

"We know, Danmörk!"

"Let's just go," Denmark muttered, stalking up the path.

The others reluctantly followed.

The next scene they came to shocked them all.

It was a meeting room. On one side stood Denmark with a disgusted look on his face. On the other side stood Norway and his nobles.

Norway's hands and feet were chained together.

The nobles took their first opportunity to shove Norway away and to his elder brother. Denmark took the chains, disgust written across his face. He marched Norway out, freeing him as soon as possible.

There were no words spoken between to two, only tears, but one could argue that tears are the most powerful words of all.

A/N: And. Thus concludes chapter two! Wow, I have so many reviews already... how do you people find me? QAQ

Anyway! A few things I need to clear up:

A.) I AM NOT DISCONTINUING ICE BLUE FIRE. We're almost done with it, though, and I needed a new story. This was born.

B.) I...strongly dislike DenNor. I respect people's opinion in shipping it, but this is a family story. About my view of the Nordics as a family.

It's just an opinion, and don't flame. Flames will be given to Germany. You know what he'll do with 'em.

I'll probably update every other day or so...I do tend to write ahead, although I haven't really done that with this one. But in exchange, I have a map of the whole plot. DO NOT WORRY, this is my new project.

Historical facts:

Battle of Svolder. Fleets of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway's "rebels" (it's not the proper term but it's the most accurate) against the king of Norway, Olav Trygvasson, who had eleven ships.

In my opinion, Norway would have REALLY hated this guy. Loathed him. Seeing as Norway- in Hetalia- canonly likes Norse religion, he wouldn't have been happy that Trygvasson converted his nation (but not him personally.) Being a nation, he viewed it as a personal betrayal. After that, things didn't go so well for him, so he also viewed it as when everything started going wrong. It's basically the end of his innocence.

*and then cries in corner because Norway fan*

All right!

Review away!

~Toni