House of Wolves [Denmark x Reader]

Chapter 5 Bang Bang

-Possible Trigger Warning-
{Iceland's POV}

    I stood in the underbrush of the forest, my arm still held out for that stupid bird.
    The other Nordics, England, America, France and I had made our way out to the Baffin Islands (Mr. Puffin insisted on calling them the Puffin Islands, which just made Denmark panic in confusion) the other day.
    When we had first arrived, we were attacked by Germany, Austria, and Prussia.
     Austria had somehow managed to twist Finland's ankle, while Prussia dislocated France's shoulder.
    America, Denmark, Finland, Sweden, and England had went and tried to ambush them in return, but the only successful part was Denmark cutting his leg open and America managing to smash open a window.
    Apparently, America had ran into some trouble with Spain, China, the Italy Brothers, and Hungary, but managed to get them off our tail and out in one piece.
    As to not risk anyone getting hurt again, we attached a note to Mr. Puffin's feet, hoping he could fly away and find Québec, giving her the note as well.
    I just hoped he found her quickly, my arm was tired and back hurt like hell.
    I stood in the small clearing for what had to be another five minutes, although it felt like hours when I heard the familiar squawking of Mr. Puffin.
    I smiled to myself, he probably found her.
    There was a rustling of leaves and a snap of a branch as Québec emerged, pushing the branches away so she could fit through.
    Much like I, she had her back straight and her arm out, where Mr. Puffin stood, picking at his wings.
    Her eyes met mine, and a wide smile spread across her face, and she laughed, running towards me.
    She soon had me wrapped up in an all-too-tight hug, squeezing the life out of me.
    "Icey!" She exclaimed. "Oh, je vous ai manqué!" She grabbed the sides of my face and kissed my cheek, then hugged me again.
    She ignored the blush creeping up my face and turning my face warm as I tried to wiggle my arms free in an attempt to hug her back.
    I couldn't help but notice she was wearing one of her old, fluffy navy shirts and the jeans she put the hole in. Her eyes had grown lighter, but yet darker. Instead of their usual shade of blue, a blue you could get lost in like ye depths of the sea, they were a shade of a blue-violet. Almost an indigo.
    And her hair has grown lighter, almost a dirty blonde.
    She let me go, apologizing. "Je désolée, I've just missed you all so much." She said, smiling.
    I waved my hand dismissively. "It's chill. Now, follow me. I'll show you to the others. Did you get our note?"
    Mr. Puffin flew to my arm which was still outstretched as Becca pulled out the rolled up piece of paper that was our note, clutching it in her fist. She nodded. "Right here! I came as quick as I could."
    "Good." I said. "Now, let's hurry up before someone finds us."
    "Wait!" She said, holding out her hand. I stopped, and she had her back turned, staring at the space from which she emerged.
    I raised a confused eyebrow at her, and there was more rustling as a tall, burly man pushed the branches out of the way.
    He wore a red and black plaid shirt, with denim suspenders. He had a green backpack slung over his right shoulder, and his messy hair was a dark shade of brown that matched his eyes. I recognized him as Northwest Territories.
    Behind him trailed Latvia, who wore his regular red uniform with the gold accents and Belarus, who wore a torn navy dress and white apron. Her hair was a mess, and her bow was askew.
    But these three were not supposed to be here. I was supposed to bring Beckers back, and that was it. Not...them.
    As if on cue, Québec turned back to me, a pleading look in her eyes. "We have to bring them, too." She said. "Si vous plaît, iceland. They're my friends."
    I pointed at Northwest Territories. "He can come. If we hurt you-which we won't-he'll hurt us, and I don't like the looks of that. But them-" I moved my finger to Belarus and Latvia. "No. They're working with the other side; we can't have that."
    In a flash, Belarus had me pinned against a tree with her dagger to my throat. "You think I want to work with them?" She spat. The word them had so much venom in it, you would've thought she was a snake. "I hate them! They've done nothing but push me around and use me! I want out! So that's what I'm going to get, you goddamn bitch."
    She lowered her dagger and walked to go stand with Latvia again.
    I gulped. "Okay, okay." I squeaked. "They can come. But don't make any noise or give us away."
    "Wait." Belarus said, and I sighed.
    "What now?"
    Bela walked over to Québec, squinting at her and tilting her head. "By gosh, she's done it."
    Latvia skipped over and peered at a confused Québec. "Holy mother fucking shit." He said, amazed.
    "Que?" She questioned. "What's wrong?"
    "Canada is dead." Belarus said plainly.
    Bec winced. "Thanks for the reminder."
    "You were there when it happened, no?"
    "Oui..."
    "You're taking over."
     "I have no clue what you're talking about."
    Belarus sighed. "When a nation dies, and they still have their borders, their land goes to whoever is closest to them physically and geographically. So, with that being said, everything's gone to you."
    I was shocked. I hadn't heard that before. Is that why she was changing?
    "I-I..." She stuttered.
    "Let's go." I said, turning away. I'll give her time to process that she was actually a nation now while we made wake.

{Denmark's POV}

    I stood in a clearing with everybody else. It was a gravelly road, probably once paved.
    A few street lights lined the road, and at one part it forked, leading into a gravel parking lot and an old convenience store. We ransacked it a few days ago.
    It was dark, and the street lamps didn't work.
    I heard the flap of the wings of Mr. Puffin and frantically looked around for Icey and Becca. If that stupid bird was here, she had to be, too.
    Ice emerged from clearing, and trailing behind him was Québec.
    My eyes lit up and my stomach did a flip, and I moved towards her, but America had shoved me out of the way, grabbing her and spinning her around, laughing loudly.
    He had gone back to wearing his glasses, and his hair was starting to fade back to blonde. He had ditched the  bat awhile ago.
    England and France came running up, joining in a huge group hug between them all.
    America wiggled himself out, and France let go.
    England still gripped her tightly, bombarding her with questions like "did you eat enough?" "Are you hurt?" "Are you sick?" "How do you feel?" and such.
    Eventually France shoved him off and took his turn as I walked over there. I could hear them muttering in French.
    France let go, and she turned to me, smiling.
    I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she brought a hand up to my cheek.
    She opened her mouth to speak, but then a bang echoed through the street. Her eyes widened and she gasped, a breath escaping her lips.
    She fell limp, slumping against my chest. I felt a warm, sticky substance running down my fingers.
    I looked at it.
    Blood.
    I looked up, and Finland was standing beside Sweden, a small hand gun raised.
    "I'm sorry, Denmark." He said. "But it had to be done."
    Another bang echoed, this time from further off. I whipped my head around, and hiding behind a curb in the parking lot was Germany, loading a sniper gun.
    "You stupid fuck." I said between gritted teeth.
    America was already moving, launching himself at Finland, grabbing the hand gun from him and firing off a few shots. I looked away as Sweden roared and threw himself at America.
    France was running at Germany, and others were emerging from behind curbs and bushes.
    I gently set Québec down, out of the way, and three myself at the nearest person, which happened to be a very angry China.
    What happened after that was a blur to me.
    I remember stepping over Finland's bloody body and someone- Spain?- shooting me in the arm, but I ignored it. I remember throwing Estonia, and kicking Russia. I think Iceland managed to stab Hungary, and I vaguely remember Belarus's dagger being soaked in Japanese blood and an Italian white flag being splattered with red.
    It was a fucking bloodbath.
    Enemy against enemy, ally against ally. Family against family and old grudges finally being acted out upon.
    Norway and Iceland acted as one, and for once in their lives France and England pretended to tolerate each other.
    There were magic blasts flying this way and that from England and Norway, ricocheting off of Hungary's frying pan.
    There were booms and bangs, guns being fired and blades being sliced.
    There were bodies everywhere, whether they were dead or alive.
    All I clearly remember was hating everything and anything with every fibre of my being.