A Waltz in the Dark (Norway + OC Hetalia fanfiction)

Chapter 7

    Norway swung his sword down, silencing the frantic cries of the monk. He looked up at the devastation, breathing in the smoke which billowed all around him. More screams and cries filled the air as his men ransacked the small village, but Norway felt nothing.
    He walked through the carnage, splashing through mud mixed with blood. A warning bell rang out loudly from a church with a tall steeple. Norway didn’t hesitate. Brandishing his sword with one hand, he threw open the doors to the sanctuary with the other, exclamations of fright filling the air as he did so.
    He smiled when he saw the defenseless people and the riches surrounding them.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:**･゜ﾟ･*:.｡.:**･

Norway gasped, clutching the sheets tightly as his eyes flew open. He sat up and looked around his small bedroom.
    And then he shook his head and lay down again, wiping the sweat from his forehead.
    “It was only a nightmare,” he whispered over and over again, trying to convince himself of the lie. Shivers flowed through Norway and he grabbed his head with both of his hands, wincing.
    He quickly sat up again and threw his legs over the side of the bed, giving the digital clock on his nightstand a glance before rushing to the shower. It was only 5:05 AM, but he would never get back to sleep.
    And he didn’t necessarily want to.

*

    Three large cups of coffee helped him forget his nightmare, as did focusing on his lecture. He reviewed his notes as the students walked into the hall, chit-chatting away.
    “God morgen,” he said, indifferently as he shut the door and began his class. “Today ve vill be going deeper into the study of the Viking Age. Our topic for this veek vill be the raids they conducted all over Europe, but specifically the raids on England and Ireland, vhere the treasures of abbeys vere much coveted by these raiders of the North…”
    “No, no! Have mercy!”
    Norway paused, blinking twice.
    “I surrender, you may take it! Take it all! Don’t kill me! Oh Lord, have mercy!” the monk cried in English, a language which only Norway knew at the time. And even though he understood what the man said, he stood and watched, his own blood-covered sword in hand, as his fellow Viking flung the man onto the ground and then swung his axe toward his head. Norway didn’t even flinch as the blood splattered onto his feet.
    “Professor? Professor Bondevik?”
    Norway blinked again and looked up. All of the students stared at him silently. And then he realized he had stopped in the middle of his sentence.
    “Are you all right?”
    He looked into her eyes. The gem was wearing blue sweater today. He didn’t know why he cared, but it matched her eyes. She stared at him with concern.
    He looked back at his notes, and then back out at the students.
    I can’t do it. He swallowed hard. A few days ago he was looking forward to teaching about the Viking Age. But now he realized he didn’t want to remember. He had worked hard on pushing those memories away.
    He looked down again.
    Get yourself together, Norvay.
    But his heard pounded in his chest and his shoulders ached from tension.
    No. This is vhat he vants! Norway shook his head. I can’t fear the ghost. I can’t fear the memories. Fear gives them an advantage. The past is the past, but this is the present. Seize it!
    Norway took a deep breath.
    “I… I am sorry, I…” he shook his head again. “Anyvay…”
    He carried on with the lecture as boldly as he could, but with each topic he discussed, several painful memories came along with it. He forced himself to carry on, and eventually time was up. The students were exiting out of the hall before he could formally dismiss, but he didn’t mind.
    He sat down his chair and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands.