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

Chapter 39

        Author's note: I probably should've said this a looooong time ago... but this is only my personal speculation of the relationships that the Nordic countries have with each other. This isn't canon whatsoever. But hey, it's a fanfiction and I can do what I want, and after reading several history books about the Scandinavian countries over the summer (A Short History of Norway by T.K. Derry was my favorite.) these are the conclusions I've drawn and the interpretation I have made. You can take it or leave it. Whatever. But you've come this far...

        and it only gets better.

TW: Imprisonment, violence

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

    "Norge. Norge! O'God, d'n't be dead."
    Norway didn't open his eyes when two hands lightly shook his shoulders. His delusions could be very real sometime, and he was so weak, he didn't have the energy to open his eyes just to see nothing but darkness
    A hand touched his neck, searching for a pulse.
    "Y're alive. Wake up, Norge! There'sn't much time."
    This illusion was persistent. It almost felt real. But then again, they always did, didn't they?
    However, Norway slowly opened his eyes, some part of him still daring to hope that maybe, one-hundred and twenty-six years later, someone might have come to rescue him.
    That hope surged through him and made his heart pound painfully in his chest when he opened his eyes and saw the prison door open.
It's... open? His imagination had never been that wild before.
    Next to him was a large figure, on the ground beside him but still looming.
    "Norge!"
    "Sve-sve—" Norway's throat was so dry he couldn't finish. He began to cough, his whole body shaking.
    "Come, sit up," Sweden instructed, sternly.
  Is this another vision? Another mind trick?
    He wasn't fully convinced that it was real, but he gathered his strength to try to sit up, anyway.
    His arms quaked with the effort and he tried to raise himself, but he landed on his chest, painfully. He closed his eyes and winced.
It's not worth the effort. It's just a dream, anyway. It's just another illusion. I am going to die here.
    And so he gave up.
    "Norge, come on!" Sweden said, his voice desperate and... scared, if Norway was hearing correctly.
    Ja. It's definitely a dream.
    Norway didn't move.
    "Fine," Sweden said, firmly, standing.
    Norway tilted his head slightly to look at him.
It's just a dream. It's just a dream. He repeated to himself. But still his heart battered against his ribs.
    Suddenly in a panic, he weakly reached out and grabbed for Sweden's boot. He found it. There was dirt on the leather. It felt real.
    "P-please, don't... leave..." Norway croaked, gasping through the dryness of his throat.
    "I'm not."
    And then Sweden reached down and pulled him up by his armpits. Without so much of a grunt, Sweden swung his arm under his legs and picked Norway up. Norway's body ached and his mind whirled, and he couldn't stop thinking about how real Sweden smelled. His coat stank of sweat, blood, and the sea.
    "Did they even feed ya? You weigh 'lmost noth'n," Sweden murmured as he turned toward the door.
    Norway was in too much pain to answer.
    Norway winced as they stepped into the light. He closed his eyes and pushed his face against Sweden's jacket.
    It was so bright.
   How long has it been?
    He tried to look, but his eyes couldn't take it and began to water, so he shut them again. Sweden's footsteps were heavy but quick, and Norway wondered how they would possibly be able to escape.
    Denmark will find us. He'll take me again.
    But he didn't get to wonder for very long, for he lost his grip on consciousness.

*

    Norway opened his eyes.
    His senses were immediately overwhelmed with the smell of salt, the distant sound of waves and men's voices, and the light and color all around him.
    He blinked his heavy eyelids multiple times. It was overwhelmingly blinding, but it wasn't as terrible as it was before.
    "You're awake!" a voice came from somewhere else in the room. Norway titled his head to the side just as a man wearing a light blue uniform and a white beret. The man came closer and Norway had to focus his eyes really hard to see him clearly. He had yellow blond hair and a smile on his face. He knelt down next to the hard bed Norway lay on.
    "This is a relief," the man said, though concern still lingered in his cheerful voice. "I was worried you wouldn't recover until we reached your land. How are you feeling, Sir Norway?"
    Norway just stared at him, focusing on breathing. He wasn't sure how he was, all he knew was that he'd never seen this man before, yet somehow he still knew who he was.
    "W-who are—?" Norway couldn't finish because a coughing fit possessed him, racking his entire body.
    "Oh, I'm sorry! I will get you water. Can you sit up?" the man jumped up and whirled around, walking momentarily out of Norway's sight.
    Sit up. I must sit up.
     Everything in him wanted to stay still, but he forced himself to move. He moaned and tried to sit up, but his arms shook and he collapsed back onto the bed. He tried again, but he was so weak, he couldn't even lift himself. He collapsed onto his back again, tears filling his dry eyes. They slid down his cheeks and he couldn't even find the strength to lift his hands to wipe them away.
    "Here is— o-oh. Are... are you okay? Here, do you need help? I'm sorry, um..." The man had returned with a flask of water, and he stood over Norway, looking concerned and hesitant, as if he wasn't sure what to do.
    "You should've just left me to die," Norway wheezed, turning his face to the side, but all his dignity had already been stripped from him, so why did it matter if this stranger saw him crying?
    The man was silent for a time. But then he grabbed Norway's shoulders with his hands and slowly lifted him to lean up against the wall next to the bed. He pushed his legs over the side of the bed and then gently brushed Norway's long, unruly hair from his face. But tears still overflowed Norway's eyes and blurred his vision.
    "Here. Drink."
    The man sat on the bed beside him and held the flask to his lips. Norway drank, greedily, and soon it was gone.
    "Good, good," the man mumbled, mostly to himself, it seemed.
    "W-where am I?" Norway whispered hoarsely.
    "You are on a Swedish battle ship, captained by Sir Sweden himself," the man said with some reverence. "He brought you here after he rescued you from Denmark's castle. Here, I have food for you, too."
    The man stood up and walked to a table on the opposite side of the small cabin. He picked up a plate with some basic foods and walked back. Norway's heart leapt at the sight, his stomach twisting with hunger. The man sat down next to him again and placed the plate in his lap. Norway's gaze went from the plate back up to the man's face.
    "Am I Sweden's prisoner now?" Norway asked, apathetically.
    "What? Ei, ei, he rescued you. You're no one's prisoner now. You are free." The man put a hand on Norway's shoulder, reassuringly.
    "Why? Why now?" he whispered, staring down at the plate and gathering strength to try and lift his arms.
    "I... I'm not sure what you mean."
    Norway looked at him again.
    "I was th-there for one-hundred and t-twenty-six years."
    The man retracted his arm, all joy melting off his face. He was stared at Norway in shock.
    "I... I'm sorry, I didn't know."
    "Sverige knew," Norway whispered, closing his eyes.
    "Ei, he must not have, or surely he would've come for you sooner!" the man said, conviction in his voice.
    "He w-was there the d-day I was imprisoned. He knew. H-he must've. But now, perhaps, if I'm lucky... perhaps he is satisfied. Perhaps his need for revenge has been q-quenched. Or perhaps not. Heaven knows I deserve another one-hundred years f-for what I did to him and Svalbard..."
    "Sir Norway, speak of these things no longer!" the man interrupted, grimacing, "Please, you are not well. And no one deserves to be treated as cruelly as you have been. I know not who or what you are speaking of, but you wrong Sweden with your words— he rescued you! He was thinking not of revenge when he broke into Sir Denmark's castle! He risked much for you! You... you should be grateful, sir!" the man took a deep breath and lowered his eyes. "Sorry. I have spoken out of place. Forgive me."
    Norway glanced the man over again.
    "Who are you?" Norway coughed again and his stomach twisted. He moaned in pain, leaning his head back against the wall. He took deep breaths and when the pain had momentarily subsided, he opened his eyes again. The man watched him, smiling halfheartedly.
    "My name is Tino. Tino Väinämöinen. Otherwise known as Finland. I... I don't know if you've heard of me, I am the country next to Sweden. We haven't met before, I don't think, but Sweden has told me much about you."
    Norway nodded, too tired to care what Sweden had told Finland, but knowing he had probably told the truth, including the ugly parts.
    Or perhaps not. Tino didn't seem to know about Svalbard, after all.
    Norway couldn't find anymore energy to respond. Even if he could've, he wasn't sure what he would've said. So he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the soreness in all of his muscles.
    "Open!"
    Norway peeked open his eyes to see Finland holding out a piece of bread for him. He glanced at his face, and the blond country smiled cheerfully, his dark brown eyes wide and sparkling. Norway stared for a minute, meanwhile Finland waited patiently for him to comply.
    Finally, he took a deep breath and humbled himself by allowing his new acquaintance to feed him.
    A few small bites later, Norway was full and couldn't eat anymore, leaving more than half of the food untouched. Finland seemed worried by this, though he didn't say so. But it was easy to tell when the country was upset, because his smile would disappear.
    Norway was extremely tired from his small exertions and his eyes drooped shut.
    "You stay put, I'm going to go get more water."
    Norway barely heard him, but he acutely heard the door squeak shut. His heart pounded when he heard the latch. He opened his eyes and stared at the shut door for a long time, trying not to panic. He took deep breaths and shut his eyes, reminding himself that he was free and he was safe.
    A few minutes later, Norway heard footsteps coming from the hall. He relaxed a little bit, but then the door flew opened and hit the wall with a bang. Norway jumped, his sore muscles stiffening again.
    Sweden stood in the doorway, glaring at him.
    Norway stared back in surprise.
    Sweden had changed. He looked older, taller, broader. Norway wasn't sure why he was so surprised, considering it'd been over a hundred years since he'd last seen him, but he was.
    Sweden's eyes were narrow and his breathing deep. His hands were clenched into fists. There was an air of madness and danger about him, one that Norway hadn't seen since the days of the Viking Age, when the man before him was called Berwald the Berserker. Norway barely dared to breath, feeling as though one wrong move would be deadly.
    "Sweden!" Finland's voice came suddenly from the hall, "Sweden, I'm sorry, don't—"
    Sweden snapped at the sound of Finland's voice. He roared and charged Norway.
    "Sverige! Don't!" Norway cried, but he was too weak to defend himself.
    Sweden grabbed him by his tunic and flung him off the bed. Norway gave a pathetic cry that silenced when he hit the ground. His head swam, his eyesight darkened, and he found it difficult to breath.
    And then Sweden kicked him in the side, causing him to slide up against the bed. Pain shot through Norway's whole body and he tried to scream, but no noise came out. Sweden growled viciously and kicked him again and again.
    Norway put his hand on the toe of Sweden's boot when he paused in his abuse, but Norway knew he was at his mercy. Sweden panted hard and Norway couldn't open his eyes, but he could imagine the look on his face. The wild, animal-like countenance that only came on in fits like these which Berwald usually fought to keep control of.
    "Be satisfied, be satisfied," Norway whispered into the floor, wincing and pulling his knees up to cover his bruised abdomen.
    But then Sweden growled and kicked his head.
    Norway screamed.
    "Sweden!"
    Suddenly Sweden was yanked away. Norway looked up with one eye, peeking through his fingers. Finland yanked Sweden back by his arm and then pushed him in the chest. Berwald roared and swung his fist at Finland, but the powerful move was slow and the shorter country ducked under it easily.
    "Snap out of it!" Finland yelled. And then he slapped him. Sweden stumbled back a step, to Norway's surprise. Finland then grabbed his shoulders and shook him.
    "What is wrong with you?!" he screamed in his face. Sweden looked disoriented, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. "Are you trying to kill him? He's half-dead as it is! I didn't mean to arouse your anger and I'll keep my curiosity to myself in the future, but if you dare to lay a finger on Norway again while he's in our care, you damn better believe you'll have me to answer to!"
    Sweden was back to normal by this point, and he grimaced slightly, glancing at Norway.
    "S'rry, I—"
    "Get out," Finland said in a low voice.
    "Finland, I—"
    "I'll talk to you later," Finland said, gentler, and Sweden shut his mouth and turned toward the door.
    He looked back at Norway before Finland shut the door.
    "What on this good earth could you have possibly done to bring about the wrath of these two countries?" Finland murmured as he knelt down next to Norway.
    "If I told you, I would have the wrath of three," Norway croaked as Finland helped him sit up. Finland paused and looked him in the face.
    "Then perhaps you should tell me another time."
    Finland grabbed his chin and looked into his face.
    "Mmm. It'll bruise, but you'll be fine," he said, grabbing his arm and helping him up onto the bed.
    "It's been a long time since Su-san beserked," Finland mumbled, mostly to himself it seemed, as he laid Norway down on his back.
    "What... did you say to him?" Norway gasped, crossing his arms across his chest and stomach.
    "I asked him about Svalbard, which was obviously a mistake," Finland admitted with a grimace. "I'm sorry. I should've just asked you or kept quiet."
    "Finland..." Norway reached out toward him, closing his eyes because the light hurt his head. Finland paused his movement and Norway knew he was listening.
    "Never mention Svalbard again. Especially not to Sweden. Understand?" Norway said with as much authority as he could muster. He opened his eyes slightly.
    Finland threw a blanket over his shoulders and paused, looking at his face.
    "Answer me this at least," Finland said, frowning, "Who is Svalbard? And where is she?"
    "He is dead," Norway said, shutting his eyes, the pain in his stomach beginning to subside to a dull throb. "And that is all you need to know."
    Finland was silent for a time.
    "You should rest," he whispered when Norway was already half-asleep. Finland dimmed the lights.
    "Sweet dreams, Norway."   
    Norway opened his eyes and watched him walk toward the door.
    "W-wait, Tino?" Norway called as Finland put his hand on the doorknob. Finland looked back at him.
    "C-can you leave the door open, vennligst?"
    "Of course, Norway."