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

Chapter 23

The waves crashed all around him, soaking him to the bone. Norway couldn't tell the difference between the rain and the cold sea water anymore. Lightning lit up the sky, allowing him to see the small rowboat he sat in for moment, and he searched the horizon for the land his crew had spotted earlier that evening, but all he saw were mountains of violent water all around him. He pulled the oars as hard as he could, but it seemed like a pointless effort against the hard current. It was evident that the small rowboat wouldn't last long against the fierce storm and crashing waves.

He looked back just as lightning flashed again. He saw the tops of the masts and some floating wreckage, but that was all that was left of his ship and his crew.

Norway couldn't let himself think about that or else he would give up. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness.

Vhat do I do? Vhich way do I go?

He waited for a reply, but he didn't get one. His heart pounded harder in his chest. He was so used to him being there.

But I am alone.

The thought settled and despair began to take over.

Norway pulled the oars harder, closing his eyes against the stinging water and wind. It didn't make a difference whether they were open or shut, anyway.

This is hopeless. I am going to die.

And there was no ghost to tell him otherwise.

*

Norway tried to open his eyes, but they felt as if they were sealed shut. He tried to sit up, but his head throbbed and his stomach twisted, so he was immediately lying down again.

"Papa, papa, he's waking!" a girl's voice exclaimed. Norway lifted one hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, but the small movement exhausted him.

Vhere am I?

The last thing he could remember was the rowboat tipping over and being plunged into the gelid sea.

But now he was warm. He seemed to be lying on a wood floor, blankets beneath and on top of him. He could hear the crackling of a fire nearby.

Perhaps I am in Valhalla. Or heaven. One of those.

He took a deep breath and then sighed.

If I'm in heaven, vhy does it smell like fish?

He tried opening his eyes again. All he could see from his position on the ground was the wooden ceiling, but even that was still blurry from all the salt still in his eyes. He blinked rapidly, slowly rising onto his elbows. His stomach clenched and Norway had to resist the urge to throw up. To distract his mind, he looked around. He sat in what appeared to be the main room of a house. There was a circle of benches not far to his right and a roaring fireplace to his left. His gaze went toward the large doorway which led into the kitchen and dining room. There were nets and other fishing gear, as well as pitchers and pots and things hung up on the shelves on the walls around the room.

Standing in the kitchen were five people, and they all stared at him. A middle-aged woman stood at a smaller fire in the kitchen, turning a spit that cooked two large fish.

Norway's stomach clenched again.

She held a baby on her hip with her other hand, and the baby stared at him with wide, wondering blue eyes. At the low table not far from her sat an older boy, still adolescent, but probably nearly a man in his own right.

Two figures approached him. One was a young girl, no older than twelve, probably the one who had spoken earlier. Running to his side, she slid onto her knees, staring him in the face. She had white-blond hair, like the rest of her family, and dark green eyes. When she was done studying him, she smiled and looked up as her father came to stand next to her.