Disclaimer: Nous ne possédons pas Hetalia. That's French! I bet you already know what it means.
A/N: Enjoy, please review!
What did you do to them?
"And that was my sixteenth king!" Romania said, looking brightly at the green Bulgaria. His friend nodded shakily.
"He staked everyone?" the Balkan nation asked weakly. Romania nodded happily, oblivious to his friend's discomfort.
"For every little thing, it didn't matter how small the crime was." Bulgaria almost gagged at the very thought.
"How mad was he?" he asked his friend. Romania shrugged.
"I'm not sure. He got knocked on the head and was unconscious for three days. They were having his funeral when he woke up." Romania grinned at Bulgaria, his fang glinting in the lamplight. "And later Bram Stoker wrote a story about him!"
"Dracula the Vampire, right?" Bulgaria asked.
"Yep!" Romania nodded happily.
"Um, well, I never had any kings like that before," Bulgaria said, almost thankfully. "But I was ruled by Russia once." He attempted to joke but both nations shuddered at the very thought of the Slavic nation.
A light knock interrupted the friends' conversation. Bulgaria was slightly thankful for the distraction. He really regretted asking Romania about Dracula now. But he frowned all the same, who would be visiting him at this time of night?
"I wonder who that is." Romania shrugged, helping himself to the cookies set out on the coffee table. Bulgaria moved to the door and opened it.
"Privet." A faucet pipe collided with the side of Bulgaria's head and the Balkan nation collapsed to the floor. Romania dropped the cookie he was holding, leaping to his feet.
"Bulgaria!" Russia turned to him, giving him his childish smile.
"Ah, you are here too. Good!" The Slavic nation advanced on Romania.
"What do you mean 'good'?" Romania asked, backing up. He chanced a glance at his unconscious friend, worried. Regretting his decision, Romania bolted for the kitchen. Russia leapt forward and dragged Romania back into a chokehold.
"You mean you have not heard?" Russia asked curiously.
"Heard . . . what?" Romania gasped out.
"I am forming the Slavic Union," Russia explained. "You and Bulgaria were the last nations I needed, da?"
"Nu!" Romania managed to bite down on Russia's arm. Russia gave a shout of surprise, releasing the Balkan nation who darted into the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder.
"Then you'd be no better than those Northerners." That stopped Russia in his tracks. He cocked his head, thinking. Was he acting like the Nordics by taking what was rightfully his? Russia shook his head, deciding to try another approach to the situation.
"Romania . . ." Russia called through the doorway.
"What?" Romania called back.
"Will you please join me in the Slavic Union for World War Three?" Russia asked in the most polite tone he could muster.
"Ce?" Romania demanded. "Nu!"
"You see, that is why I must take you forcefully." Russia followed Romania into the kitchen. Romania darted up the stairs and into a bedroom, looking frantically for an escape route through a window. Russia appeared in the doorway behind him.
"Why are you running when you know I will catch you?" Russia asked curiously, causing Romania to jump in surprise.
"You won't catch me!" Romania stepped onto the windowsill. He didn't care if he broke his ankle jumping to the ground. He just didn't want to be stuck with the madman again. But the moment Romania was about to leap, Russia jumped forward and dragged him back by his shirt.
"Net, I do not want to have to chase you again."
"Lasă-mă să plec! (Let me go!)" Romania struggled wildly in Russia's grasp. The taller nation brought his faucet pipe down on the Balkan's head. Romania slumped in his arms, black dots swarming over his vision. "Damn you, Russia," Romania managed to mutter.
"Da, I know." Russia threw the unconscious nation over his shoulder and left to retrieve Bulgaria. The chess board was set, now someone needed to make the first move.
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The first thing Germany noticed when he woke up was the dull burning sensation on his right shoulder. Cool stone pressed against his cheek, doing nothing to sooth his aching head. Something chaffed against his neck uncomfortably, the feeling of leather.
"W-What happened?" Germany sat up slowly; wincing has his shoulder twinged in protest. At first Germany thought he was blindfolded, the room was so dark, and his arms were bound tightly behind him. Suddenly the memories rushed back to Germany and he felt his blood boil.
"DENMARK!" he shouted as he struggled against the ropes binding him.
"Ja?" Denmark flicked the light switch, revealing himself leaning against the doorframe. The sudden light blinded Germany and he had to blink to clear away the spots.
"Release me," Germany demanded through clenched teeth. "Now!"
"I wouldn't be giving your master orders, Manglende. (Failure)" Denmark suggested, moving to stand before Germany who glared at him.
"You are not my master."
"Then why do you have my mark on yer shoulder?" Denmark smirked. Germany frowned at him but didn't say anything. So the pain in his shoulder was a tattoo? A brand of some sort, perhaps? "That's a good boy, Manglende," Denmark laughed, ruffling Germany's hair. Germany ducked his head away in annoyance.
"I am not a dog! And quit calling me that!" Germany had no idea what Denmark was saying, but he didn't like the sound of it.
"Ya are ta me," Denmark said, unaware of Germany's ignorance. He leaned forward, his face an inch away from Germany's. "And ya will be doing everything I say."
"Nein, I refuse to!" Germany took the opportunity of their closeness to spit in Denmark's face.
"Gah!" Denmark stumbled back, wiping his face. "Ulækkert. (Disgusting.) I'll give ya a chance ta apologize fer that."
"Nein!" Germany struggled against the ropes but it was in vain. The knots were too tight.
"Nej?" Denmark repeated. "Let me ask ya something, Manglende."
"Was?" Germany snapped at him.
"How close are ya ta Italy?" The question confused Germany.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Just answer the question," Denmark demanded and Germany sighed.
"We are . . . close."
"Would ya do anything ta keep from breaking his heart?"
". . . Ja," Germany said after a second. Smirking, Denmark pulled the door open and dragged a bound Romano into the room.
"Romano!" Germany surged forward, almost falling on his face. He had to steady himself before glaring up at Denmark.
"Let me go, dammit!" Romano struggled against his captor.
"How sad do ya think Italy would be if his brother was damaged beyond repair?" The question caused Romano to freeze, horrified.
"You wouldn't?"
"Trust me, Dårlig Mund, (Bad Mouth) I wouldn't hesitate ta hurt ya." Germany glared at his cousin.
"Very sad," he answered Denmark's question.
"Help me, potato bastard!" Romano started struggling again.
"Can't ya see, Dårlig Mund?" Denmark asked. "Manglende is a bit tied up right now."
"Let me go!" Romano demanded.
"What do you want?" Denmark turned to Germany, serious.
"Ya will do what we say, no matter what, if ya want Dårlig Mund in good health." Germany's eyes flicked between the Viking and his struggling prisoner and he slumped in defeat.
"Fine."
"See? That wasn't so hard." Denmark shoved Romano into a corner. The Italian nation's head collided with the wall and he winced.
"Bastard!"
"I'll deal with ya later." The Viking approached Germany and untied him. "Remember, Manglende, Dårlig Mund will get it if ya cause any trouble."
"J-Ja." Germany stood slowly, his knees protesting at the sudden use.
"Don't listen to him, potato bastard!" Romano shouted form his corner.
"Right, I've still got ya." Denmark threw Romano over his shoulder and smirked. "I know what ta do with ya."
"Chigi!" Romano struggled in the Viking's grasp.
"You said you wouldn't hurt him," Germany reminded Denmark who glanced back at him before leaving the room.
"I won't. Follow me, Manglende." Reluctantly, Germany followed Denmark down the hall and to an empty room where the Viking ripped the door open. Denmark carried Romano into the room and dumped him on the bed. He untied Romano's wrists first, shackling to them to the headboard, and then untied his ankles. The shackles kept Romano's wrists trapped together but a long chain allowed him to roam the bed's expanse.
"I'll send someone ta feed ya," Denmark assured Romano.
"Chigi!" The Italian nation yanked on the shackles, shaking the headboard. "Let me go!"
"Get over it, Dårlig Mund, ya will be here fer a while. Come, Manglende, we need ta fetch someone." Denmark left Romano cursing in the room and locked the door after Germany.
"Who is it?" Germany asked, glancing back at Romano's door. Who else had the Vikings captured?
"Just someone, he's a special pet of ours." Denmark stopped and unlocked another door, dragging England out of the room. The struggling island nation was bound hand and foot; a gag was tied in his mouth. Large white wings were strapped tightly against his back by a series of belts running down his chest.
"England?" Germany stared in surprise at the winged nation. "Why does he have wings? What did Norway do to him?" England glared hatefully at Denmark. What was the idiot telling the other nations?
"This is something Engel (Angel) did ta himself. At least, that's what Norge says." England flushed at the memory. One small mistake on a spell had left him with wings that wouldn't leave. Normally they weren't a problem. But sometimes England's shoulder blades would start itching and he'd need to let the wings out.
"How do I know you're not lying, and Norway is actually experimenting on other nations?" Germany watched England struggle, his wings pumping against the belts.
"Knock it off, Engel." Denmark dragged the winged nation down the hallway, glancing back at Germany. "Ya will just have ta trust me." Germany followed him, doubting he could ever trust the nation.
The last thing Canada remembered was Norway telling him it was time for a nap and pricking him with yet another syringe. Canada's eyes had slipped closed as he'd felt something rough rubbing against this neck.
Canada woke up with a soft groan. He rubbed his abused neck from the multiple injections then froze. Ignoring the touch of leather, slowly he drummed his fingers along his neck. Laughing, Canada bolted upright, ignoring the wave of dizziness, to wave his hands and wiggle his feet. After two weeks of constant paralysis he could move!
"They freed us?" Canada asked in an awed voice. Beside him America was sitting up slowly in his own bed, flexing his limbs.
"I can feel my hands again!" America exclaimed. "Wait, what's this?" His hands moved to his throat, feeling the collar around his neck. Canada felt the strip of leather locked around his own throat.
"A collar?" he wondered, tugging at it.
The bedroom's door was thrown open and Denmark dragged a struggling and bound England into the room, followed closely by a wary Germany. Both brothers leapt from their beds. Canada could feel the beginnings of a tremble running down his spine and he could see America shivering with rage.
"Denmark," America said in a strained voice. "What do you think you're doing?" Denmark ignored his question, glancing back at Germany.
"Manglende, make sure Frihed (Freedom) and Ahorn (Maple) don't cause too much trouble while I tell them." Germany gave Denmark a questioning glance but nodded all the same. Canada glanced at America, feeling another tremor down his spine. America had his teeth pulled back in a snarl at the Viking.
"Ya see Engel here?" Denmark asked, lightly shaking England.
"Yes!" America said through gritted teeth as Canada nodded stiffly.
"He's going ta be in this house," Denmark explained. "None of ya will know where, but he'll be safe. Behave and he remains unharmed. Misbehave and . . . well, we'll all get ta see Engel without his wings again."
That tipped America over the edge. He leapt forward with a roar but Germany was quick to intercept him before he could touch Denmark. England watched them, his eyes wide. A pounding grew in Canada's head and he knew it was coming, his whole body trembling.
"Jeg slår dig ihjel! (I'll kill you!)" America writhed against Germany as Canada tried to calm himself down. He couldn't attack Denmark if he didn't want England to be hurt.
"What did you do to them?" Germany demanded as he struggled to hold America down.
"I guess I pissed them off." Demark shrugged. He reached for his belt and drew his axe, lowering it to England's throat. The winged nation froze, his eyes wide with fear. The threat was enough to calm Canada down who glanced at his brother.
'Brother,' America froze at the sound of Cherokee. 'Calm, brother.' Slowly America's struggling ceased and his eyes lost their crazed look. The brothers had discovered the old language could pull them out of their Berserker modes when Canada had gone crazy during a hockey game and America had shouted at him.
"I'll leave them fer ya ta deal with, Manglende." Denmark returned his axe to his belt and hoisted England over his shoulder. As he left the room, America shouted.
"Iggy!" Germany kept the young nation pinned to the floor as he desperately reached for England. "Dad!"
England struggled in Denmark's grip, his calls muffled by the gag in his mouth. Denmark ignored his prisoner, striding down a hallway no one else was allowed down. Luxemburg had asked Denmark about it, but the Viking had threatened to beat him again if he ever wandered down that hall.
At the end of the short hallway was a single door. Denmark unlocked the door, relocking it behind him. This hallway had several doors lining the walls. Denmark opened the first door on the left, closing it before he dropped England on the large four-poster bed. The moment after he removed the gag, England started shouting at him.
"Damn it, Denmark!" England struggled violently against the ropes. "What did you do to America and Canada? I've only seen them act this way once."
"Oh? And when was that?" Denmark asked curiously. England watched him stride to the corner where a large object hung from the ceiling covered by a sheet.
"Twenty-three years ago," England said with a glare. "America beat Canada at hockey. France and I were called by their bosses to stop the fight, apparently they had been going at it for four days and they showed no signs of stopping. They both ended up in the hospital for multiple injuries."
England could still remember entering Canada's house with France to find the room destroyed and their sons brawling in the center of the mess. It had taken seven hours to finally get the brothers to calm down and to a hospital. America had suffered four broken ribs, a cracked collar bone, and a broken femur. Canada had had a broken fist, four spinal discs shifted out of place, and a cracked skull. It had been a wonder the boys had both survived the fight and had continued going at it. France and England had never figured out just what exactly had happened to the boys for them to have fought for so long.
"Huh," Denmark's voice brought England back from his memories. "I never knew it could get that bad," the Viking commented. England felt a flare of annoyance. What did Denmark know that he didn't?
"What do you mean 'it could get that bad'? What did you do to them?" England demanded.
"It turns out they inherited a little something from me that makes them go berserk every once in a while. It's happened a few times, but we've mostly just kept them subdued." The incident with China releasing America was still fresh in Denmark's mind. "Ya should have raised them better, Engel." He glared at England. "It's yer fault."
"What's my fault?" England snapped back. "The fact that they're both Berserkers and have anger management issues?"
"If ya had left them with us then this never would have happened. We know how to deal with a Berserker."
"Is that what you think?" England struggled in his bonds fruitlessly.
"Ja," Denmark said. "It's what we all think."
"If I hadn't come along then Native would have killed them!" Denmark whirled around and glared at him.
"She was perfectly peaceful with us," he snarled. "She probably heard about how violent ya were."
"You are ridiculous!" England huffed and decided to change the topic. This conversation was getting them nowhere. "What is this room?"
"It's my room." Denmark flashed him a frightening grin. England's eyes flicked to the hanging object.
"And what is that?"
"Yer new home." Denmark removed the covering with a flourish, revealing an enormous bird cage. England gaped at it for a split second then started struggling wildly.
"You are not locking me in that thing like a bloody bird!"
"But ya are a bird, Engel, and yer too pretty ta set free," Denmark said. His eyes flicked to Sweden when the bedroom door opened on silent hinges. "I'll leave Sve ta care fer ya, I need ta talk ta Norge." He left the room as Sweden approached the bed.
"You oaf, you are not doing this to me!" England struggled as Sweden dragged him to the floor, pinning him down easily. The Viking released a wing, stroking it gently and speaking in soothing words to England as one would a frightened animal.
"Lugna, England." England shivered under him, his free wing pumped violently as the other strained against the belts.
"What are you doing?" Sweden ignored him and continued to stroke the wing until it relaxed. He quickly withdrew a pair of clippers from his pocket and pinned the wing down gently. "Wait! What are you doing? Stop!" The Viking continued to ignore him and proceeded to clip the feathers of the wing. When he finished Sweden repeated the process to the other wing.
"We c'n't h've you fly'ng aw'y," Sweden said softly. England gasped into the carpet, his ruined wings limp on his back.
Cutting the bonds, Sweden gently lifted England and placed him in the bird cage. The bottom of the roomy cage was lined with a comfortable cushion that sank beneath England when he was settled on it. The Viking locked the cage, slipping the covering back over it and plunging England into darkness. England heard footsteps recede and the door shut and lock.
The winged nation curled up into a tight ball, sobbing into his arms. The Vikings were treating him like a stupid animal locking him in a cage, and who would want to rescue him? England had refused to join the war.
'Brothers," England thought helplessly. 'Help!'
But who would want to rescue their controlling, annoying little brat of a brother?
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After retrieving Bulgaria and Romania for the Slavic Union, the rest of the nations had been released from their rooms in the Eastern wing. Prussia, Hungary, Ukraine, Belarus, Poland, Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Romania, and Bulgaria sat at the large dining room table they'd hoped to never return to. Their captor stood at the head of the table facing them.
"Privet," Russia said. "All of you should know why I brought you here."
"Ja, you kidnapped us so could reform the Soviet Union." Prussia glared from his seat between Latvia and Hungary. Gilbrid fluttered around his head, chirping, as Hanatamago struggled in Estonia's arms.
"Let us go or I'll hurt you, măgar!" Romania demanded with a scowl. Lithuania, Estonia, and Latvia cowered in their seats, so used to being around Russia
"Romania, please, don't get Russia angry," Bulgaria pleaded. Hungary looked up sadly from her seat. She didn't have the heart to snap or beat Prussia with her frying pan.
"I, too, do not wish to be here."
"Net, I am not reforming the Soviet Union," Russia said with a childish smile. "And you are not free to go." Hungary straightened up in her seat.
"And what is to stop us from leaving you this time?" she asked.
"Yeah, you, like, have no way of forcing us to stay here," Poland added.
"Da, I do!" Russia reassured them.
"And how are you going to do that?" Romania demanded.
"I placed trackers in your arms while you were all asleep." Russia smiled and giggled at them. The room was silent for a minute, and then Prussia slammed his head onto the table with a loud 'bang'.
"But, why, Russia?" Ukraine asked, horrified at the thought.
"So I can find you if the Nordic Union kidnaps you . . . or if you run away."
"Gott verdammt." Gilbird cheeped and landed on Prussia's head.
"Rahat!" Romania swore under his breath.
"Inteligentne ass," Poland muttered.
"We should have known Mr. Russia would do that," Estonia said, shivering beside Ukraine.
"Jā" Latvia nodded, trembling violently.
"Taip," Lithuania agreed from his seat by Poland.
"Big brother has his reasons." Belarus glared at the group.
"I don't care," Hungary said. "Russia is the legdurvább ember él. (rudest man alive.)"
"Für einmal stimme ich Ihnen zu, (For once, I agree with you.)" Prussia said, his voice muffled by the table.
"Köszönöm, Prussia," Hungary thanked him.
"Kein problem."
"Zatknis'! (Shut up!)" Russia roared. "I know none of you are happy about the trackers, but it is the only way to ensure your safety. And if you do not shut up then I will send you to Siberia!" The gathered nations shut up very quickly, but for a muttered threat about making Warsaw Russia's capital. "Thank you. Now, I wanted to speak with you about this war."
"What about it?" Prussia sat up. "It's a world war! And this time it's not West's fault."
"It is not just a World War, da?"
"Then what is it?" Hungary asked curiously.
"It is a war of nations. No humans started it this time. And now we are facing a greater enemy then we ever have before."
"And who is that?"
"We are facing the Vikings of the old age. And now the Vikings are armed with two of the most dangerous nations I have ever met. Do you know what the Cold War was actually about?"
"What?"
"It was, like, about being mad at each other because neither of you were getting what you wanted," Poland said in a bored tone.
"Not just that," Russia said. "America visited my home many times and threw . . . temper tantrums."
"What? The 'Great America' is immature?" Prussia cackled.
"Net, I discovered later that Little America would go berserk, like the old Viking warriors. We would travel to a secret military base where America would tear the room apart in his rage; he even punched through a cement floor one time. Canada is very much the same way, though not as strong. We are dealing with Berserkers, warriors who will not stop at anything to kill you. If the Vikings learn how to harness America and Canada's power then we are all dead."
"Mida?" Estonia asked, dropping Hanatamago. "Then we are already dead! They must have discovered how to control America and Canada by now."
"We're all going to die!" Latvia broke down into sobs.
"Dieve." Lithuania leaned on Poland.
"This is, like, all your fault, Russia." Poland glared at Russia who cocked his head.
"How is this my fault?"
"I don't know, but it totally is!"
"Don't blame this on me if you do not have proof, da? But I do have good news."
"And what is that?" Prussia demanded.
"Ladonia did a bit of spying for me and overheard that America has fallen into his berserk mode once now."
"HOW IS THAT GOOD NEWS?"
"Because America attacked the Vikings, this means they do not yet know how to control the brothers. This gives us a chance."
"What are we going to do?" Hungary asked.
"Tomorrow we have a world meeting with . . . what is left of the world. I have two propositions for them, one I will share with you now. We rescue Little America and his brother from the Vikings."
"And then what?"
"And then they will fight for us, da?"
I guess I pissed them off.
A/N: Did you notice that the Danish word for Angel is "Engel"? England's name comes from "Engla Land" which means "Land of Angels".
Vlad the Impaler was a real king. He staked people who pissed him off (hence his name). One day he was hit on the head in battle and fell into what was probably a coma. He woke up three days later during his funeral and scared the daylights of people. That is where the inspiration for Dracula came from. He was from the House of Drăculești, also called Dracula for short.
Also, that hockey game doesn't exist; we made it up for the story. And yes, we did create a false history for England's wings, we're sorry if this does not appeal to you.
It is nearly impossible to break the femur (the largest bone in the human body), you have to hit it at just the right angle. We know because a fellow student of ours had his broken during a lacrosse game. O.O The same kid broke his collarbone playing lacrosse the next year. Poor guy.
Spinal discs can shift from their original positions, apparently it's very painful. We have to agree.
Did you know that if you lock a goldfish in a dark room for three days that it will turn white? Pollux! What? I thought we were doing random facts.