"I'm not playing around here, verdammt!" Despite Prussia's insistence, none of the countries whom he had "invited" to the bar would believe him. "I'm telling you, Germany told me this." Wait. That didn't come out right.

"Right," Austria huffed, his brow raised and his arms crossed. "Unless Germany would come over and say it himself, I would lend credibility to what you're saying." Everyone seemed to agree with the aristocrat. Beside him were Hungary, Greece, and Poland. Adjacent to them were Turkey, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein.

"Are you saying I'm a liar!" Prussia snapped.

"What Austria's saying is that we're not really that trustworthy of you yet," the former mercenary clarified.

"Come on, Switzerland! That whole thing between us was way back, right?"

"Come, Liechtenstein, let's go."

"But, brother—"

"Hey, everyone, look at this!" Poland called. All eyes turned to the television set mounted just below the ceiling above the bar. It was to some degree unnerving. News from Norway. From the Nordic states. From Eastern Europe. And from the heart of Russia. The same news all throughout.

The report was broadcast for around thirty minutes. After that, Prussia beamed with pride. Seeing the look on everyone's faces—especially Austria's—made him want to gloat. He was about to open his mouth when Hungary broke the silence. That pissed him off a bit.

"'General Winter'?"

"It may seem that way," Austria assured her. "Russian winters are terrible. But I didn't know the weather in the Baltic regions would be just as bad."

"That's because they aren't."

All eyes returned to the annoying Gilbert who was now smirking and resting his right leg on top of the bar. Hungary wanted to hit him with her frying pan but they were all in the wrong. She just didn't want him to say, "I told you so." Which he actually did. In a prolonged egotistical manner.

"So what do we do now?" Greece asked for the first time. At least he didn't doze off like he usually did.

"We…" Prussia said with his finger raised. The sounds the later escaped his mouth were "uh", "uhm", and "er" much to everyone's chagrin. Now Hungary had a reason to hit him. The frying pan was about to be raised when the doors swung open to welcome a screeching Italy who crashed into the hall. He had been (retreating) darting at amazing speeds.

Hungary helped him up. "Italy, what happened to you?" His temperature startled her. "And why are you so cold?"

"I-it's G-g-german-ny… h-he's in b-big t-t-trouble…"

"West!" Prussia demanded, hopping off the bar. "What happened?"

"G-g-general W-winter… h-he at-tacked Nor-w-way…"

"Italy's drastically cold," Hungary warned. "We need to get him warm!"

"Over here!" Greece beckoned. Austria lit the fireplace as Turkey and Poland carried a shivering Italy over to couch in front of it. Hungary was quick to prepare a basin of hot water and plunged Italy's feet deep into it. Greece covered him in a thick blanket, allowing one of his cats rest on the country's lap.

"There, there, now. Feel better?"

"Y-yes, Miss Hungary."

"Now, Italy, tell us clearly what happened."

Before Italy could finish his tale, Prussia was off to Norway clad in his winter uniform and armed with the best weapons in the German arsenal. Only Hungary had noticed his sudden departure. And, strangely enough, it worried her.

He did not see them die. He did not hear them die. He only heard the report. At first, he refused to believe. When they were not looking, he snuck a peak.

He wanted to kill the soldiers. Why did they have to do this? They can't force him! He's a country, after all. He made a move for the office knowing full well that the people responsible for the crime were in there. A strong hand held him back.

"If I don't go…"

"Allow the changes," General Winter said in his deep-dark voice.

"But they did not have to die."

"Time spares no man and they are of no exception."

He threw a fist. It met nothing but the cold wind.

"They should not have died." He kept his smile plastered to his face but could not hide the tear that strolled down his cheek.

The door creaked open. Footsteps shuffled onto the concrete slabs now gathering a layer of snow.

"Russia, I am sorry we did not tell you immediately," a gruff but soft voice apologized.

He didn't know whether to believe him or not. He knew he (they) eyed him wearily. He knew they were afraid of him. But they knew that he couldn't touch them.

"Shall we have a stroll?"

Russia looked up. General Winter nodded. The country sighed and turned to meet his superior. The man was not at all surprised by how red his nation's eyes were. "Russia—"

"Why did they have to die?"

Cold. "Big brother Russia?" Darkness.

"The mud is hampering their progress."

"Spasiba. I now have more time to prepare."

"Make haste. Rasputitsa only hindered their advance but not their determination."

"I know. That is why we are making preparations."

General Winter smirked. "Only during these times," he echoed.

"Da. Only during these times, tavarisch"

The wind blew strong against his back and he knew that the General had left to harass the betrayers of the non-aggression pact.

"Big brother Russia!"

The blur faded. Everything was clear. "Huh?"

"Oh, big brother Russia!"

Russia sat up. He smiled at Belarus—something he rarely does nowadays. "Hello there, Belarus."

"I'm glad you're okay!" Nataliya held his hand firmly in hers. It was clear that she forced her recovery so she could speed up his. Not that he knew how she was going to do it. "General Winter is going to pay for this," she hissed.

"Da. We will make sure of it." And he patted her on the head.

"West!" Prussia called. "West!"

The blizzard was intense. Regardless of the thickness and complexity of his winter uniform, it was rendered almost useless in this seemingly massive whiteout. He had greatly underestimated its strength.

"West!"

There was a devilish taunting that resonated all around him. That familiar voice made him shudder. For a moment, the ground beneath him turned into flat ice that started to crack. Prussia shook his head and found himself back in knee deep snow.

"West!"

The laughter came again. That dark voice rattled him.

"Show yourself, sie hurensohn! I know you're here!"

Suddenly, a shadow bellowed upon him catching him by surprise. Prussia stumbled backward, squeezing the trigger. The Gewehr let out several successive shots as the shadow vanished. Then the same menacing chuckle followed.

"Damn you… damn you!"

"Weapons cannot kill me," General Winter whispered. It was so close to his ear that Gilbert stumbled forward deeper into the snow. He trailed his gun upward but the personification of the blizzard had gone.

"Where's West?" he demanded. There was more laughter. "Stop laughing, verdammt!"

"Prussia!"

Gilbert struggled to his feet, pointing the rifle at the source of the sound.

"West?" he called out.

"Ja! It's me, Germany!"

Prussia breathed a sigh of relief as his younger brother pushed through the thickness of the whiteout.

"Come on! We have to get you to the shelter!"

"What?"

"A shelter! Everyone else is there. Now, let's go!"

The two brothers made their way through the storm, through snow that seemed to grow deeper, until they reached an area where a massive tree had fallen over.

"In there!" Germany pointed.

"The tree?"

"There's a bunker behind it, dummkopf!"

General Winter echoed his notorious chuckle which hastened the duo's entry into the underground shelter. As Germany closed the thick steel door, Prussia made his way to the artificial fire pit in the farthest wall of the small space. It was where most of the nations were warming themselves.

All turned their heads towards the visitor. Gilbert set his rifle by the door frame while introductions were given.

"Well, there's no question as to why he came over," Britain remarked, rubbing his hands to get some more warmth.

France eyed the Gewehr. "It is impossible to stop General Winter with just conventional weapons," he said.

"Would you stop putting us down?" Britain demanded, already irritated.

"I'm not! I'm just telling you solid facts about the enemy."

"Well at least say something that would help us—like how we can exploit his weakness!"

"I don't know everything, alright! Besides, you haven't had a battle with him just yet!"

"Would you two stop arguing?" China barked.

Germany made a head-count of everyone in the shelter. America, Britain, France, China, Japan, Prussia, Norway, Denmark, and him. Though he did feel another presence in the room. They were huddled by the pit, except Norway who sat in the corner mulling over how this had happened so quickly. Finland and Sweden were still missing.

Prussia turned back to his younger brother. "What's on your mind," he whispered.

"We still haven't formed a solid plan yet. Also, Norway said he had not seen Finland or Sweden since General Winter's advance."

Prussia grunted. His original intention was to get Germany and everyone else out—the result of his drunken pride.

"What about Norway's house?"

"It's abandoned; snowed-in. Not to mention the 'forces' that General Winter stationed there."

"What forces?"

Germany gave him an iffy look then shrugged. He pointed to Norway who appeared traumatized from what he had gone through. Prussia made a step towards him but was stopped by his brother's hand on his shoulder. "We tried. He's too stricken to make a full description."

"But what did you get?"

"'Fallen troops', 'ice minions', 'undead warriors'… at first, we thought it was just the cold. Until he showed us this…" A ripped piece of cloth emerged from Germany's pocket. "It may not be much but it looks pretty nomadic. He probably ripped it off one of his assailants."

"Vikings…" Norway breathed. All heads turned to him. He was shaking less now and appeared saner than before. "Vikings. They were Vikings. Our ancestors. Our dead ancestors."

"Dude, you remember?" America asked.

"What do you mean?" Britain inquired.

"It was the Vikings! He gestured with his hand and all of a sudden, we were surrounded from all sides by Vikings. They just popped out of the snow like that." Norway illustrated by pressing down his left palm against his right hand, thrusting it upward. "Like undead minions."

"General's a necromancer? Awesome!" America started sounding like his old self again.

"Wait." France paused, rubbing his chin. "So you are saying, monsieur Norway, that General Winter summoned the dead to fight for him?"

"Ja."

Germany and Prussia shared a look.