'ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

4

Mathias, Lukas and Tino all sat together on the sofa in the centre of the Norwegian's living room. Finland's nose had taken a light red hue, and he struggled to keep all of the sneezes to a minimum. Norway wasn't as bad as the others, the occasional cough coming from him being the worst it had become so far. Denmark, however, seemed to be suffering from a twelve-hour migraine, and counting. He felt like a bouncy-ball was having a party with all of its friends inside his skull.

Iceland walked into the room with a tray of hot drinks.

"Here," he said, "having some coffee might help a bit."

The three personifications each took a cup in their hands, either just holding it or taking a burning sip of the drink in the hopes that whatever they were suffering from would leave as quickly as it had arrived. Denmark had been the first to complain the evening before, and had decided to retire to bed early. However, within two hours, both Norway and Finland had starting to respectively cough and sneeze, leaving Sweden and Iceland downstairs on their own.

Berwald had done his best to keep all three of them comfortable—Tino especially—supplying blankets or water, or even ibuprofen when necessary. In the meantime, Emil had decided to call Vash in Switzerland and ask if anything was happening with the international economies that he often oversaw, but the Swiss had said that nothing was wrong, and that perhaps Germany would have the answer. He'd put the phone down on Emil, who sighed in frustration, answer-less, and he instead called the blonde German. Apparently, the three cases in Northern Europe weren't the only ones of countries who'd suddenly fallen ill.

That was at 4am that morning, when Emil had been woken up by a crashing from the kitchen downstairs. It turned out that Mathias had been in search of any kind of painkiller for his worsening headache and it was at this point that they both realised that what was happening wasn't normal. Eight hours later, they were waiting for an update from Germany, who they supposed had taken authority on the matter and was finding out what he could. And as if on cue, the phone began to ring.

Mathias groaned. "Fucking noises . . ."

Lukas hit him on the arm and asked Emil to answer the phone before everyone was axed to death. Emil didn't hesitate, and hurried to the landline on the other side of the room.

"Hello?"

"Hallo, this is Germany."

"Iceland. Is everything alright?" Emil enquired, desperate for any answers he could get. "Have you found out what the problem is?"

"Nein. I am no closer to that, unfortunately," Ludwig replied, "but I thought you might want to know that I know of seven other countries that are showing related symptoms to Denmark, Norway and Finland. An emergency meeting is to be held tomorrow in Berlin. I'm ready to declare this a pandemic."

Emil paused. "So . . . This is serious?"

"More than we may think."

"OK . . . Thanks for letting us know. Should all five of us come?"

"Just you and Sweden, if that's alright, or even just one of you. Some countries seem to be unaffected, but some may not have come into contact with the illness, especially those not in Europe. We can't afford to worsen the situation."

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Auf wiedersehen, Iceland."

Emil placed the phone down slowly, trying to take it all in. He and Berwald had just assumed that the others were suffering as countries rather than as people, and that it would subside quickly, but they'd clearly been wrong. He looked back to the other four Nordics, who were expectantly waiting to hear what had been said, and Emil couldn't do much more than shake his head.

"Iceland, who was it? Was it Germany?" Finland asked, a sneeze escaping between his two questions. Emil only nodded in response, "What did he say?"

"Turns out there are more countries than we thought who are ill too. The numbers are up to ten, including you three," he reported quietly. "But he also said there's an emergency meeting in Berlin tomorrow."

"Good," Berwald responded. "Are we both going?"

Emil shook his head this time. "One of us needs to stay and look after the others. Only one needs to go to represent all of the Nordics, and I was thinking that perhaps . . . I should go . . ."

"If you think it's for the best," Sweden said. He didn't mind staying behind, he just hoped that Iceland would be alright on his own. "I will stay."

"Is that a good idea?" Lukas remarked, turning to his younger brother. "Are you going to be comfortable going on your own?"

"I'm not a kid. I'll be fine," Emil sighed, rolling his eyes. "I will handle tomorrow, but for now we should all just chill out and do what we can to make sure you don't get any worse."

And with that, Denmark excused himself once more, cup in hand, and retreated upstairs, wincing noticeably when one of the stairs creaked beneath his weight. He definitely wasn't getting any better. Sweden took his place on the sofa, and Finland immediately sought comfort with the larger Nordic, leaning into him while simultaneously doing his best not to sneeze again. Norway just sat quietly and continued to sip his coffee.

Sighing lightly, Emil left the room and headed back into the kitchen. He wished there was more he could do. He felt like others always saw him as the child of the group—hence his reaction to Lukas' mothering—and he was desperate to prove to them that he was capable, but he didn't know how. As he leant against the kitchen side, staring at the floor, he thought about their situation.  Now that three out of five of the Nordics had fallen ill, in various ways, he almost felt lost. He didn't know how to help them . . .

"You worry too much."

Emil nearly jumped out of his skin, and he looked towards the familiar speaker. "I'm not worried," he said, "I just care."

"You worry because you care." Lukas corrected.

"So are you saying that now I care too much?" Emil responded. "Because if so, then you're wrong."

"What I am trying to say, Ice," the Norwegian sighed, "is that you are more worried for others than you need to be. We aren't weak nations. With time, everything will be fine." he said, walking towards his younger brother and placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I just don't want you to feel down because of this currently helpless situation."

Iceland looked at Norway. "Now who's worried?"

"I'm allowed to worry. I'm the older brother," Lukas replied solemnly.

Emil said nothing in response. He just slowly nodded in passive agreement, ready to drop the conversation, and looked back at the floor. He appreciated that Lukas would always be there for him, regardless of time or reasoning, but he would never understand why older siblings always felt the need to protect their younger counterpart. It was nature, he supposed. Nothing more, nothing less.

An eruption of coughs suddenly came from Norway, and he tried to stop, having to hold onto the kitchen side as the flow never seemed to end. It was sickening. Emil hated seeing him like that, and Lukas hated Emil seeing him like that. He moved towards the kitchen sink cautiously as a wave of sickness ebbed over him, coming and going within seconds. Iceland followed after anxiously.

It took a few moments, but when Lukas was a bit better, Emil gently rubbed circles into his back while he tried to settle again, and sighed with relief when his big brother was back to breathing normally. He wasn't ready to lose anyone, and he'd do anything in his power to keep them all safe.