Hetalia - Axis Powers 1. Chapter 1: The signing

**Axis Powers Hetalia does not belong to me.**

**Chapter 1: The signing.**

He hated them. Hated them more than he had ever hated anyone else in all the centuries he'd existed. How could they? They didn't have the right to do this, did they? He'd never agreed to this war, he never wanted a war in the first place. It was that annoying idiot-of-a-nation called Denmark that was to blame for this.

Well, maybe it wasn't really Denmark's fault. He didn't really choose to go into war, England did force him, using Norway's own marine against them. Had they not been lost, Denmark wouldn't have to protect himself and them. Maybe it was his fault then. His own, his own pitiful self. Blame it on Norway; he would not care anyway, right?

Norway stood by the wall, pressing himself against it, trying to become as invisible as possible. His face didn't reveal any hint of the raging storm of emotions that his mind had turned into. The only sign of his discomfort was the slight twitching of his hands. They never stopped shaking completely, but now and then, a finger or two would give a more violent jerk. He felt like those twitches shook his whole body, starting by the finger, up the arm then out into every corner of his body, as if the vibrations travelled under his skin, maybe through his blood. Even his hair shook. He could see it by the corner of his eye, where it fell across his forehead.

His head jerked slightly as he came out of his thoughts; scanning the room quickly to ensure himself that no one had noticed his momentary lapse of awareness. A tight knot formed in his stomach as he watched the people in the room, moving about in an important manner, Denmark looking forlorn and lost with his own brother and the rest of the smaller countries that had been his. His gaze met Denmark's briefly before he quickly looked away, looking anywhere but at him. Denmark, the one that had ruled over his people for so long, who had denied his freedom for so long.

His jaw set as anger flared in him, flowing though his veins with the rage and disappointment that mixed, and his body shaking as he tensed up. He didn't _want _to be in an union with Sweden, that bastard. He had never liked the guy, couldn't tolerate him. He despised the fuckers that were the cause of this. He wished them an early death, condemned to painful torturing in _hell!_

'Deep breath, relax. Keep your composure.' Norway calmed himself down, taking deep breathes and looking in front of himself stiffly. He didn't think anyone had seen his conflicting emotions, he'd become very adept at keeping them hidden over the years. He scanned the room again, just to check. Nope, no one was looking his way. They were all busy with Sweden and Denmark.

Norway didn't exactly look forward to this. Living with Denmark was bad enough, but Sweden? Now that he didn't have Finland anymore, he'd be even worse to share a house with. Couldn't speak properly for the life of him either. This was another thing to add to the stupid being of Sweden. Norway frowned ever so slightly, telling himself to be nice. There was really no reason as to why he didn't like Sweden. His people probably influenced him, he rationalized. He'd always felt like he was treated as something less important than Sweden, which he definitely wasn't.

Four people suddenly materialized in front of him, towering over him with their smug expressions. Maybe except Russia, he just wore the same creepy smile. Not that Norway would ever admit that he actually thought it was creepy, nothing was supposed to affect him in the least, he didn't have emotions, after all.

"It's signed now. Go to Sweden and don't make a fuss" Arthurs voice broke his train of thought and Norway darted his eyes over at the Englishman. "Get on with it, I don't have all day. This has already taken more time than I intended." His voice was curt as he dismissed him, not leaving an opening for any kind of argument Norway may have had.

"Yes, the awesome me have to go home too. Little Gilbird is getting hungry by now" The nation by the name of Gilbert grinned down at him, apparently oblivious to the fact that this wasn't the right time for anything joyful or enthusiastic in any way. Not to Norway at least, Prussia always made him want to punch something. Maybe not as bad as Denmark did, but it wasn't really too far stretched.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he glanced at Denmark again. He didn't hate him, maybe. Just a little, probably. He looked down as sighed quietly, not sure what to think of this. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad to live with Sweden? They did share borders, after all, there hadn't been any major troubles and their people weren't any different. Maybe a little, but not more than expected.

"Norway?" a hand waved in front of his face and he winced slightly, reprimanding himself for his spacing out again.

"Yes?" He meant for his voice to come out sure and confident, but almost to his surprise, it sounded like a little squeak, like a little child that was about to cry and he was definitely not a little child. He was strong, damn it.

England, the one that had addressed him this time, stared at him quizzically. Seemingly doubting Norway's sanity, why could they not just leave him alone? They'd done enough damage as it was.

"H's f'ne" Sweden's voice interrupted his thoughts and he looked verily at the other nation, suddenly noticing the absence of Denmark. Where was that coward? Didn't he even have the decency to say goodbye to him? On the other hand, maybe he just wasn't worth it, the almighty Dane still had _Norway's _little brother. He still had the land that was supposed to be Norway's, still had what was not his to begin with.

Norway forced himself out of his thoughts and looked up at Sweden, who looked back with his disapproving stare. Norway stared dully back, not letting himself be affected the slightest. He would not let himself be bossed around by a Swede; he would not let him take control over him and his people.

"P'll y'rs'lf t'gether, Norge" Sweden's glare intensified and he grabbed Norway's arm, pulling the smaller nation with him as he made to leave the room. Norway had to use all his will power in order not to flinch or struggle as he was halfway led, halfway dragged out of the room.

His gaze was fixed on the air in front of him as he walked away with his head held high, praying that no one could see the fear that was blossoming up his chest and slowly choking him. It took all his might not to look back when the door shut behind them, closing off the final deal and Norway was officially in a union with Sweden.

**To Be Continued**

**I will hopefully get around to finishing this fic, depends on how people react to it, really. I don't think I'll keep writing if no one likes it, that would be quite a waste of time, seeing as I write this at school..**

**Anyway, the plot is around the union between Sweden and Norway in 1814, I think it was? Damn, I'm so bad at this. I meant for Norway to get an eating disorder, but please don't flame me for it, it's the reason for this story and any helpful criticism would be greatly appreciated, as this is my first fanfiction too.**

**Note that I do not have an eating disorder, but I do research.**

**Please read and review. Thank you**


	2. Chapter 2: The Constitution

**The constitution**

Living with Sweden wasn't exactly something pleasant. At least not when it was just him and Sweden, alone in the house, completely and utterly alone, no one would have noticed if he disappeared. They hadn't spoken in weeks. Awkward silence filled the room the times they occasionally met. Apart from the muttered 'hello' from Sweden from time to time, Norway didn't hear anyone speak in that period of time.

Sweden didn't want him to go outside of his property. He didn't want to risk him going to his own home and fire up his people to rebellion. Norway snorted quietly at that thought as he looked out the window on his bedroom. Like his people would bother with that yet, they still weren't over the shock of the union with "Söta bror", a rebellion now weren't needed.

One didn't have to rebel either; Norway had had an idea in the back of his mind for a while now anyway. He needed a constitution. Not one like the other countries had; a better one, based on the one France made after the revolution. He'd give the people more rights, nothing like how he'd been ruled ever before. He was going to lead them into the new age.

He checked the hallway outside his room to see if Sweden by any chance thought of sneaking up on him. He didn't exactly want him to know of this plan of his, as much as Norway was against the union, Sweden wanted it. For what reason, Norway had no idea, he wasn't sure is he even wanted to know. Nobody would want to know that they're only a substitute, and to Finland none the less.

Norway closed his door again after reassuring himself that he was still alone, he would have a lot of work to do, it was best to get to it immediately. He sat down on the chair by his small desk at the end of the room, rubbing his arms for some warmth. He'd gotten quite a severe cold during the war, when England had separated him from Denmark and he couldn't trade food with anyone anymore.

"Don't dwell on the past, Norway," he said to himself as he picked up some paper and a pen to write with. "What's been done has been done, there's nothing to do about that. Rather look forward and do something useful." Norway dipped his pen into the old inkwell by the side and placed it at the top of the paper.

'_CONSTITUTION for KONGERIKET NORGE._

_§1._ _Kongeriget Norge er et frit, uafhængigt og udeleligt Rige. __Dets Regjeringsform er indskrænket og arvelig-monarkisk...'_

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

The sounds of forks clattering against plaits filled the room as he awkward silence continued to stretch. 'How am I to survive with this? Even Denmark's constant blabbing is better than this' Norway frowned ever so slightly as he poked his potatoes. He didn't like admitting it, but he missed the potato head.

"E't y'u'r f'd, Norge." Sweden's voice broke the silence and stopped Norway from mashing another potato. He glanced up briefly only to meet Sweden's disapproving stare, keeping his emotionless mask Norway looked down at his food again, cutting up the potato once more and ate a bite, chewing it slowly. He could see Sweden nod slightly from the corner of his eye, pleased with himself.

"I'll be leaving soon" Norway said quietly, setting his jaw and embracing himself for the onslaught that was sure to come.

"Nej, y'r not." Sweden sat back in his chair as he wiped his mouth clean, having finished his meal. The tone of his voice left no opening for any reply Norway may have come up with. "Y're go'ng t' st'y h're"

Norway's eyes widened slightly in surprise before he frowned, pursing his lips in a thin line as he weighed down Sweden's words. Had he really no intention of letting him go? Was he stuck with Sweden for the rest of his life now? Norway didn't understand it, he had written a constitution but still had to be in the union? 'You haven't told him about it, idiot,' a voice in the back of his head berated as the silence between Sweden and him stretched.

Of course, he wouldn't be free if no one knew of the damn thing. He opened his mouth to tell the Swede, but not one sound came out. He tried to force out a sound, but something choked him. Was he really afraid to tell Sweden about what he'd done? It wasn't even that big of a deal.

Come on Norway, hold your head high, take a deep breath and go for it... Now! "I wrote a const-"

"Yo' d'dn't wr'te 'nyth'ng." Sweden's voice cut him off as he stood up, leaving his plate as he walked down the long table to Norway's end. Norway had to crane his neck to look the tall nation in the eyes as he stood before him, looking as intimidating as ever. "Y'u h'ar m'? N'th'ng."

Norway stood up quickly, squaring up to Sweden as he glared up at him angrily. "I did. So you'll have to let me free now." Even though Norway was standing as tall as he was, he wasn't tall enough to look as intimidating as he had wanted. Still, he ignored the fact that the Swede was still towering over him and hissed in the man's face, "I wrote the damn thing, and you better let me get my freedom now."

"Men fan da, Norje!" Norway took a startled step back as Sweden yelled, actually yelled at him. The man was fuming angrily and walked up to Norway again, closing the gap that had been created between them when Norway stepped back. "J'st b'c'us y'u m'de a c'nstit't'on d'en't m'an th't I h'ave t' ackn'wledg' 't "

Norway stared at Sweden in shock, he'd been so sure that he'd get his freedom now that he didn't even think about the fact that Sweden could just ignore it. "What?" The Norwegian blinked slowly as Sweden kept up his dark glare, to Norway, he seemed to grow, and looming even higher over him as reality struck him. He wasn't getting his freedom back; Sweden had no intention of letting him go. What was he supposed to do now?

**To Be Continued**

**Translation: "Men fan da, Norge" Uhh.. difficult to translate, something similar to "Damn it. Norway"**

**Second chapter is here. Please tell me what you think, and if you have any ideas that you would like me to include, it would be very helpful. And if you fav the story, could you please write some words in a review? Just 'good' or 'needs to be trashed' is enough. But please point out what you think I should work with if you mean I'm bad at it. Thank you.**

**Also, I would have updated quicker if my teacher hadn't told me my writing generally sucked ^^' Sorry. **


	3. Chapter 3: Rising tension

**Rising tension**

The silence as crushing, even Sweden had to admit it. He knew that he wasn't a man of many words, but at least he made an effort. Norway's stoic silence was unsettling, so say the least; the air was so thick, Sweden was sure he was going to choke on it some time or another.

There were times when he wondered what was going on the Norwegian's mind, other than what was to be expected, but Berwald just couldn't get his mind around him. He had understood Finland, for the most part. He knew how to please him, and he knew how to push his buttons.

With Norway it was completely different. If he tried to do something nice, he was turned down; if he punished him he would be ignored. Anything he did was returned with either a bored glance or ignored completely. He had been trying to talk to him, at least some times; he had wanted to apologize after yelling at the Norwegian earlier that week.

He had been ashamed after yelling at him thus, raising his voice was below him, it was not something a strong kingdom as he is was supposed to do. But he didn't know what else to do, he had to make a point of who was the bigger part of this union; he couldn't just let Norway think he could do whatever he wanted, that wasn't part of the deal.

Sweden sighed as he put down his small glass of wine, bringing his hands up to rub his forehead tiredly. He'd been pulling all-nighters the past few weeks lately to get his loads of paperwork done. It didn't seem like Norway was the only one that opposed The Union; his people were causing more trouble than necessary. They were didn't do as he ordered him to, they even protected the damn constitution.

Sighing once again, Sweden got up and walked over to one of the windows in his office. The autumn was coming to an end; there were already snow on the higher mountain tops. He had heard news that it had already settled in Norway, maybe he was being cold because he actually was cold? Sweden hummed something that sounded almost like a laugh as he thought about his little pun. His breath fogged the window, making him lean away slightly to wipe it away; he didn't particularly like having anything out of place.

That bothered him about Norway too, he was out of place. He didn't do as the other subjects he had ruled over; he wasn't willing to do as he was ordered. Sweden was getting a little worried though, what was he doing wrong? He didn't understand, he was treating the Norwegian like he had treated Finland. Why wouldn't Norway appreciate that?

Berwald sat down heavily in his chair, letting out a long breath as he reached for another document. He'd do something about it tomorrow; he had to finish this paperwork before he could do anything else.

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

They were eating again. Correction; Sweden was eating, Norway was just staring angrily at him. Berwald was sure the Norwegian didn't even know what kind of food was on his plate. Sweden had tried to cheer his quiet companion up by having the kitchen maids serve some Norwegian Salmon, it hadn't been too cheap, the other nation's men didn't seem to want to trade with him anymore.

Sweden was well aware of the fact that he could have just taken it, he was ruling the country anyway. But considering that Norway was already upset with him, it hadn't seemed like such a good idea. The fish was still some of the best food he had had in a while anyway, so at least something good came out of it.

"Spis, Norje." Sweden met Norway's dark stare over the table. The Norwegian didn't even twitch, Sweden started wondering if he had lost his hearing some time during the hour-long dinner. The now-turned-staring-contest dragged out between them as the maids came to clean away their plates. Berwald silently held up his hand to keep them away, not breaking the connection. This was the longest 'conversation' he had had with Norway in centuries.

Sweden was not looking into the dead, blank eyes that Norway usually hid behind. There were emotions there, raw feelings that would never be let out but for this small space of time were there, plastered on the Norwegian's face; displayed so openly to the Swede. He saw the hurt and betrayal, the confusion and anger, the feelings that had been forcing themselves forth, up to the surface.

In some sense, Sweden could understand what Norway was feeling. He knew of the anger and desperation that grew inside of one who was not able to do as his people needed him to. He knew about that want for justice, the desire for equality as his people were suppressed, their desires crushed by a greater power.

He knew these feelings well, he'd experienced them himself, maybe not as much as Norway, Sweden had had more power in the Kalmar union than Norway had, but he had felt them none the less. It still didn't make any difference, it didn't change the fact that he was suppressing Norway as much, and more so, than he had been during the last union.

It didn't change the fact that he didn't hurt Norway with his actions, it didn't change the fact that he was denying the Norwegian his right to freedom. Berwald might as well have thrown the smaller nation into one of the old cells under his grand mansion, given him a good kick in the ribs and spat in his face for good measure before locking the door; placing the keys right outside a tiny gap in the massive door, just outside of the Norwegian's reach. He might have just sat outside the door and watch as the humbled nation staggered to the door and desperately stretch his thin arm out towards the key to his freedom.

Sweden's breath picked up a notch as he pressed his lips shut tightly and his breath fled his lungs, out his nostrils before he breathed in just as forcefully. All sound except his own breath fled the Swede as his back straightened, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses and he stared straight into the eyes of someone he thought was very close to him.

But how could Norway be someone close to him, when those eyes of his were staring him down, looking so good damn accusing. How could the boy look at him thus? What had he done? Sweden only did what was for the good of them all, how could Norway be looking so accusing when it was his entirefault? Norway didn't deserve his pity, Norway certainly didn't deserve Sweden's understanding, and he most certainly didn't deserve to be free. He was _his_, weather he liked it or not.

There was a loud crash, the sudden, loud noise resonating against the tall walls of the dining room, followed by quick, almost rushed steps that echoed off the hallways as they disappeared into the kitchens. The maids, who had been standing a little off to the sides of the dining table, had long since fled; the rising tension between the two Nordics could have scared off even a certain Russian.

The crash that had sounded through the manor was from Sweden's chair as the man had suddenly risen, slamming his hands against the polished wood he had been dining by. A small servant boy had finally gotten scared off as he ran to the kitchens, away from the two intimidating figures. Said boy's steps echoed through the hall as Sweden and Norway were left in the big room to deal with their problems alone.

As the steps faded, there were only Sweden's heavy breaths to be heard. Norway sat rooted to his seat; his hands neatly folded in his lap and his back almost painfully straight against the back of his chair. He could faintly hear Sweden gritting his teeth as he seemed to struggle with himself in some way.

Even if Norway was calm and seemingly unaffected, Sweden was the complete opposite. Thoughts were racing through his head in a million miles an hour. He realized that he had no control over the situation the moment his chair fell; he had absolutely no idea as to what to do. Finland had never been like this, Finland had never looked at him with eyes like the Norwegian's. Berwald had never had to deal with conflicting emotions like these; he hadn't had to deal with any prominent emotions at all.

Through his haze of confusing thoughts, Sweden faintly hear the ruffling of Norway's clothes as the small nation got up. The Swede's body started shaking slightly as he te4nsed further; he swallowed tightly and shot Norway a warning look. It would do no good if he actually did lose his temper, he'd found out early on in his life that in situations like these; he'd lash out at anyone close enough out of desperation.

Suddenly Norway was standing right beside him, making the tense nation jump slightly and taking a step back, into his overturned chair.

The Norwegian stared at him blankly, his eyes guarded once again and free of emotion. "... Why so tense?"

Berwald twitched slightly, "c'me aga'n?"

Norway sighed quietly and spoke slowly, as if he was explaining something to a child. "Why are you so tense?" Sweden could have sworn he heard a note of smugness in his otherwise monotone voice.

Sweden desperately wanted to change the subject; he didn't want to be laughed at by the Norwegian for something as stupid as this, it was below him. His eyes scanned the almost empty room quickly, trying to find something to blame. They came to rest on Norway's half-eaten food and the words left him before he could think.

"I am tense, Norway." he spoke slowly, unfamiliar despise hardening his voice. He faintly noticed a small wrinkle appear on Norway's forehead; an indication that he was confused, guarded even.

"I 'm so t'nse bec'use I've g't lo'ds of pap'rwork t' do, 'nd the 'nly thing y'u 're do'ng, is t' e't all m' f'od." Sweden briskly walked over to Norway's plate, taking it and showing it into the smaller Norwegian's chest; the potatoes and barely touched meat soiled the Norwegian's shirt as he held onto the overturned plate close, as if it was a stuffed bunny.

Sweden only stayed in his place for a few moments, watching as Norway's mouth slowly opened and closed, no sound coming out.

"Y'u b'tter g't a gr'p 'n y'ur fat ass, 'r I'll h've t' do som'thing abo't y'u." He turned around abruptly and briskly walked away. His chest ached at the words he had said, he didn't mean them but he didn't know what else to do. He winced slightly as he heard the dinner plate crash to the floor as Norway finally dropped the plate and ran off to god-knows-where.

Berwald closed himself into his bedroom, trusting the maids to clean up the mess that had been left. The tall nation sat down on his bead side heavily, resting his head in his hands as he leaned over his knees and sighing deeply. He would have to learn how to deal with Norway better.

**To Be Continued**

**Translation:**

**Spis, Norje**** – eat, Norway.**

**It's done. I am so sorry; I have no excuse as to why it's late. Please bear with me, I can't promise that I will have faster updates, but rest assured that this fic is not forgotten.**

**Any opinions and/or critiques will be appreciated. If you come with ideas, the chapters will definitely come quicker =u= Please leave a review!**

**Ps. I believe I need a beta; I don't dare reading over anything I've written OTL that is really not good. So if you're interested, know someone that could be interested or maybe related to someone even; please not me!**


	4. Chapter 4: Poisoned thoughts

**Poisoned thoughts**

_There's a whole wide world outside,_

_But not a world meant for me,_

_You took the light from the end of the tunnel,_

_Now darkness is all I see._

Feet pounded against the moist earth behind Sweden's house. Back and forth, steady pace. Quick, pained gasps could barely be heard over the thudding, a strangled cough was heard now and then as the running figure strained itself, pushing past the boundaries of his body. The tired feet stumbled suddenly, caught in some invisible stone on the ground and with a small cry, the figure fell head first into the ground.

A quiet 'faen' could be heard as the lean figure struggled to get up off the ground. The figure swore quietly again as the sky decided to drop its heavy load of water right at that moment. The water rushed down like a shower, soaking everything in seconds; the soft ground had already turned into a slippery mud puddle.

The rain muffled any sound the person may have uttered, leaving a weird, hollow silence as the sound of the rain muffled all else. The figure sat down heavily in the ground after inspecting one of his knees, shrugging at the blood that was flowing out the newly acquired wound. The figure covered his mouth as his body shook with heavy coughs before he fell back tiredly; stretching his arms out beside him and closing his eyes, letting the rain wash away the grime and sweat on his face. An arm was placed over his head as his body once again shook, this time with muffled sobs.

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

Norway was sitting in his room, hunched over slightly as he looked out the window. A mixture of snow and rain pounded against his window. His body ached after hours of exercise, all he could do was sit in his chair and look out the window, down at the depressing and dark, Swedish woods that stretched miles and miles over the hills behind Sweden's living quarters.

Paperwork lay undone before him, piling up as the days went by. The Norwegian's pen laying ignored at the side. Sweden's words the other day come as a shock to Norway; the hurtful words ingrained themselves into his brain and his vulnerable state took them to heart. It had only been a question about time when his mind would eventually turn against him. He had already been close to a breakdown from the stress of the new union, and his already strained nerves from the previous union. He would have never imagined that Sweden would be the one to eventually push him over the edge.

Of course, Norway could not at the moment see that anything was wrong with him, mentally that is. It was later that he would sit up in the dark hours of the night, and think about the madness that had overcome him. A quiet, but deadly disease; spreading through his mind and fouling all his thoughts, taking over his body and his will.

Sweden's words were constantly ringing through his head, day and night, every hour and minute that ticked away. He would grip his head late at night and curl up on himself, pulling his knees close to his chest and making himself as small as possible, while his whole body shook and a continuous flow of "Nei" could be heard from his small figure.

Normally, Norway wouldn't have thought about it once if he had been called fat, but this was not a normal time. Years, centuries of built up stress needed to get out, needed something to blame and Sweden had given him the perfect object. He was fat, if only he was a little thinner, all the pain and suffering would be gone. He loathed his body for it, and he was going to do something about it. Sweden would never more have a reason to say that he was eating him out of the house. There wouldn't be much eating on the Norwegian's part anyway; he would make sure of that. The time of being a glutton was over, a new regime would start and this time, Norway would be in control.

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

There weren't many changes to Norway's room during the next few weeks; a little less tidy maybe, a few clothes laid draped over a chair by his small bed. Norway considered that messy, but he was would consider anything beside perfection a mess. The only noticeable change in his room was the four purple candles situated on his desk, one of the candles had been lit, just about two days ago. Christmas was coming closer, straight towards them at high speed, a fine blanket of snow had finally settled in the area and successfully cheering everyone up, the Christmas spirit setting in.

With the exception of two people - or rather – nations; Sweden and Norway. The Swede had never been one for holidays and happy occasions, there were really no need for them as they only broke a daily routine and made people lazy when they had time off. If he was to be in charge, there wouldn't be any holidays at all, the weekends were more than enough he would say. But what he said didn't necessarily mean he meant it, the real reason he didn't want a holiday right now was because of Norway.

The Norwegian had changed the last few weeks; he had drawn into himself, closing himself off from the people around him. At first, Sweden hadn't minded, he quite liked not having to handle Norway on a daily basis. However, as the days piled on without any contact with him or any sight of him at all, it was only natural for Sweden to want to check on his fellow nation.

Too bad Norway didn't seem to be anywhere in the Swedish house. There was no sign of him, not even a note to say where he was. Berwald eventually forced himself into the Norwegians bedchambers only to find it deserted. All his possessions were still there, but the actual person that Sweden was looking for was nowhere in sight. Asking the servants that were ever present did not help the least, no one knew of where the missing nation was.

Sweden decided that he would seat himself in the living room, close to the entrance and wait for Norway's return. He knew the fellow male would be coming back, at least after a while when all his clothes and other priced possessions were still in Sweden's house. Taking out a well read book, Sweden sat himself comfortably in an overstuffed chair, adjusting his glasses slightly and began reading.

**- Norwegian Boredom - **

He had been walking aimlessly for hours, his feet dragging behind him in the heavy snow that laid like a blanket on the roads and fields. Soft, powdered snow covered his hair and back as the wind blew at him, his skin had gone numb the minute he left the house; shivers shook his whole body, cold fingers fumbled with his thin coat in a futile attempt to gather some more warmth. His stomach rumbled painfully, craving the food it needed but hadn't gotten in a long time.

"Hush, you're not getting it. You have done nothing to deserve food," the hunched over male hit his stomach, ignoring the pain, only relishing in the silence that followed as his stomach stopped rumbling. He sighed and pulled his coat tighter around himself again as the wind picked up, thick snowflakes whirling around him as he walked in the direction he hoped was Sweden's home.

Norway coughed once, cursing his health quietly and stumbled on. It was getting harder and harder to drag his feet through the snow that by now, reached up halfway to his leg. The many hours of walking had already drained him of any energy he may have had since he started, exercising on an empty stomach was apparently not a good idea; there were nothing to work with.

Not eating more than breakfast the whole week and then some didn't help with his energy either, but Norway liked it. He could deal with the pain, the first time he had hunger pains he thought he, but now he had grown accustomed to them, come to like them even. He never stopped exercising if he was in pain, there was only exhaustion. He would only stop when there was no chance of going any longer, only exhaustion was achievement and he would get it.

Someone was walking beside him, a light, bony figure floating in the air. A black coat was draped over its shoulders, shielding it from the cold winds that constantly attacked Norway. Had he not known better, Norway would have thought it was the grim reaper. But he knew, he knew this was not a dangerous being that brought death to all it touched. Liked most of the peculiar creatures the Norwegian saw, this dark, bony figure could not be seen by anyone but him. It didn't occur to Norway that this was no fantasy creature that had granted him the permission of seeing them. This was something more sinister, something of which would cling onto his mind and drag him down into the darkness.

**To be continued**

**Here's the fourth chapter, I have an idea as to what the next chapter will be, but I don't know if I'll write a lot during the holidays... I haven't read through this after I wrote it, so most of it probably don't make sense at all : \ Any ideas or offers to be a beta will be loved upon.**

**Please review, it seems like people lost interest ^^' Tell me what you think; I might drop it if people really aren't that interested. **


	5. Chapter 5: Punishments

**Punishments:**

_Your punishments slowly suffocate me,_

_As if me wanting to live is a sin,_

_But you tell me I have to sacrifice life,_

_For the privilege of being thin__._

His fingers were cold. Icy to the touch, numb as they fumbled with a potato. He grinded his teeth together angrily, using more force than necessary as he peeled the nth potato in the god forsaken place Sweden called a kitchen. Peeling potatoes; kitchen duty. Leave it to Sweden to hand out a punishment like that. Norway would have laughed if it he hadn't been in such a foul mood.

A voice in the back of his face whispered quietly to him, laughing at his misery. He guessed he should have been expecting it; Sweden always came up with the worst punishments, even when he wasn't aware of it.

A hiss sounded through the cold, desolate room. A whispered curse and a chair clattered to the floor as the lone, thin figure rose too quickly, ignoring the fallen chair and hurriedly walked to the sink mounted on the wall. The water rushed out immediately, cold, numbing. He held his finger under the water, looking at the blood from his wound mingle and blend with the water, staining it red. His mind shut down; going back into the numb state he had been in since he was assigned his task. His dull, blue eyes stared blankly at the dirty, grey concrete wall as his free hand reached for the bandages at a stand by the sink, nimbly wrapping up the wound before he slowly, almost tiredly walked back to the potatoes.

At the end of the day, the Norwegian was actually quite glad he got that punishment. Although he still meant it was unfair of Sweden to put him to a work like that just because he had been out walking late at night, it had at least given him an excuse to not eat dinner that night. He was sick of potatoes, physically ill as he looked at them. At the sight of their dinner that night, the smaller of the two nations had pulled a face of pure disgust, turning right around and going back to his room. Berwald had been surprised and slightly disgruntled, but had said nothing, thinking it was just Norway still being mad at him.

In all honesty, Norway didn't even care about him anymore. He had something else to focus on, something much worse. The black figure that was ever present by his side had warned him. Christmas was almost upon them, in other words, a flood of food expected of him to shove down his food like a gluttonous pig.

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

His legs hurt, badly. He couldn't move them, he was so exhausted. It felt as if he had run a thousand miles, and then run a thousand more. '_Norge_'. Norge? Oh, yes. That was him, his name. But, why did he hear his name? He knew very well what his name was, so why did that come to his mind?

_Norge. _Again, it was there. Was someone calling him? He opened his eyes slowly (_when did he close them?)_. Where was he anyway? This wasn't any place he knew of, had he got lost some place? No, that wasn't possible, even if he _had _gotten lost, there was no chance that any place like this excised in Sweden, or anywhere else for that matter. This white, smoky place where every sound was dulled, sucking it into its great mass.

_Hello?_ Norway tried to shout but his voice only came out as a quiet whisperer. He felt so useless, what was this place? Wait, didn't he just think about that? He spun around quickly, looking around himself. His mind was going in circles, his thoughts were confusing him. What if he ended up trapped in this desolate place in all eternity, what would he do? He had to get out, the walls were closing in on him, he could feel it. He had to make himself as tiny as possible, the walls were coming, the roof was sinking, he was going to be squished, he was going to d-

_Norge, I'm here!_

That voice, he recognised that voice. He opened his eyes again, looking around as the walls were gone again and his only company was the eerie mist from before. The voice, where was the voice? That voice, so annoyingly cheery but still comforting; he needed to find him, he would save him, he always did. If it hadn't been for that damn mist!

He spun around and around, getting dizzier and dizzier. He couldn't see anything, he was spinning so fast. The world was a blur. White clouded his mind, there was nothing to see. He couldn't see, he was going too fast, how did he stop? Why was he spinning,? He was losing control!

_Heya! _

A frightened scream left the Norwegian as he jumped back, shielding himself with his arms. It only took him a millisecond to realize who was standing in front of him all of a sudden, that same annoying grin plastered on his face.

_Denmark! _He hissed out the name almost, wanting to be loud but only managed a hushed voice. The mist must be getting to him. The thought briefly crossed his mind, but he put that way. That was of no importance, what was important was getting Denmark to help him find a way out.

_Denmark, thank Odin you're here. Where is this? Get on and help me find a way. How did you get here? _The skinny Norwegian hurriedly walked towards the Dane, but as he got closer; Denmark seemed to float a little further away each time.

_... Danmark? Why are you moving away? _His brow furrowed in confusion. Was this an illusion too? The mist seemed to suddenly pick up its pace form the lazy movements it had made before. It started whirling and erupt in high, white-gray clouds. Denmark only smiled at him, still the same, wide grin on his face as he stood at the same distance. He seemed to have grown. When did this happen? Norway stepped back but Denmark still grew. He was towering over him, smiling down at him but his grin offered no comfort.

_Danmark... Hva er det som foregår? _He questioned the Dane as he loomed over him. This was wrong, Denmark would usually do anything for him, the Dane would normally do anything in his power to protect his 'family' as he liked to call them. _Why aren't you helping me? _He finally got tired of the tall Dane's creepy grin and shouted at him, he was trapped, he didn't know where he was and his body was hurting and it was just too much; his mind was too jumbled. He just didn't understand.

_Oh, Norge. Don't you understand? _Denmark's sickly sweet voice was strange to Norway, he sounded so different from usual, much more sinister than it had ever been.

_Understand what? _Norway shouted, his voice echoed off the walls. He kept backing away, stumbling backwards blindly as Denmark kept growing rapidly, coming closer and closer with that damn grin of his.

_Nobody wants to help a fatty like you. _Denmark's face twisted in an evil sneer, his figure leaping at Norway and before he knew what happened, Norway's heel caught in something and he fell backwards. The air rushed part him, his expression shocked and his body falling limply through the fog. Down into the darkness, creeping up the hole that surrounded him. He faintly heard laugher at the top where he had fallen. They were laughing at him, watching him fall into the darkness and they laughed. Denmark. Sweden. Even Finland and Iceland.

Norway looked over his shoulder as he fell down, seeing the ground rushing towards him and he finally let out a long, shrill cry as he fell, crashing to the ground. Bones shattering, blood gushing. Limbs mangled. Pain. Pain. Everywhere. Crushing. Breaking. Killing. Killing. _Killing._

A terrible, long cry tore through Sweden's large, dark house. The sole, skinny Norwegian in one of the smaller bedrooms shot up from his bed, crying out once more as he gripped his head, trying to will the images out of his head. His skin was clammy with cold sweat and the cold air made him shiver as he quietened down again, his breath hitching, catching in his throat as he looked around.

His hands shook as he looked down at himself, that laughter still echoing in his mind and the sound of, probably one of the maids, coming down the hallway. He felt disgusting, he could feel the fat rippling under his skin; clinging to his body like a parasite.

His breath quickened, short and shaky gasps now as he in one rapid movement got up from his bed, throwing the blankets back carelessly. He felt bile rise in his throat, his eyes clouded as water filled up and he was only barely able to pull out the little bucket under his bed before he got sick. Painful, chest wrenching heaves shook his body as the meagre food he had consumed in the day came up; half digested and foul-smelling.

Small, cold tears trailed down his ashen cheeks as his body heaved for what seemed like hours. His nose stinging at the acidic smell and his throat sore. It took quite a while for him to calm down, pushing the bucket away from himself and leaning against the corner of where his bed and the wall met. The small, shaky Norwegian pulled his knees up to his chest, swallowing over and over as he tried to get the disgusting taste away.

So fat. Disgusting. He was vile, trapped in a body that even made him sick. It needed to change, he needed to change. It wasn't going quickly enough, he wasn't strict enough. He needed to be stronger, be braver and he would achieve what he was working for.

The shaking Norwegian looked up from his knees again, peering into the dark tiredly as he looked for his new companion. That black cloaked creature that had decided to stick with him, encouraging him when he was close to giving up. _Ana_. He whispered the name quietly, his clouded eyes searching the room. Where was she? He needed her; her motivation and strange comfort.

He needed to know her secrets again, needed to know how she did it. He gave a relieved sigh as she came out of the closet, drifting down to sit next to him. Her dress had changed, no longer dark, heavy and sinister. Now it was a light, white colour as if spun by thousands of tiny spiders. He leaned against her tiny, bony frame as she hummed quietly, gliding her long, elegant fingers through his hair.

_Sverre, you know what to do. It's for the best. _Her voice floated through the air, her fingers pulling back Norway's hair as he leaned forward again and retched over the little bucket.

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

"Norge, y'u don't look s' good."

Didn't look good? That was an understatement. Norway mumbled a reply as he shuffled his food around his plate. He looked worse than after that one time where Denmark had somehow convinced him to go Viking on England, while drunken out of their minds. Dark bags had settled under his dull, almost lifeless eyes. His skin was ashen and lifeless and he moved in a sluggish way.

It wasn't Norway's fault that he had to spend the nights exercising long into the ungodly hours. If Sweden would just let him out of eating, he wouldn't have to do that. There wouldn't be a need for punishments; he wouldn't have to burn off whatever he had eaten.

He ate slowly. Carefully and controlled. His potatoes were cut up on 20 tiny pieces; showed around his plate for the hundredth time as he chewed his food carefully, making sure that he chewed exactly the same amount of times. Then he brought his napkin up to his mouth carefully, discreetly spitting his chewed foot out again. Nothing was going into his body. Fill up with more water and the process was repeated. This time taking a tiny piece of his meat, but the process was much the same. Pick at food, move it around. Cut it up some more. Take the smallest piece, insert it into mouth. Chew, chew, chew, chew, chew. 56 times. Not more, not less. Pick up napkin, pretend to wipe mouth, spit out food. Fill up with water, lots of water. Repeat.

Sweden once again tried to fill the silence. "Danmark's com'ng t' visit."

Norway's hand stopped abruptly lingering between the plate and his half opened mouth. He held still as his hand slowly lowered again, a soft clatter coming from his plate as his for was placed down once again. He kept his gaze on a spot on the table cloth, back and shoulders tense as he tilted his head to the side momentarily before picking up his fork again. ".. Why?" he inquired coldly before placing the tasteless food in his mouth.

The Swede studied his movements closely, trying to understand Norway's reaction, or lack thereof. Berwald sighed quietly and sat back in his chair as no further reaction would come from the Norwegian. "He w'nted to v'sit." Sweden cut up another piece of his meat, using more force than was necessary. "Sa'd he had a pres'nt." He looked at the sickly looking boy across the table, shoving the food into his mouth and chewing. Chewing. Swallowing.

Norway's hand shook slightly as he stared at Sweden, not quite a glare but close. He stabbed a piece of potato and showed in into his mouth. "I don't want any presents from him." He chewed, swallowed and then took another bite. He didn't want Denmark visiting; he didn't want the Dane what a mess he had turned into after he had been forced to leave. He needed to get a hold of himself as soon as possible; he needed to be straighter on himself; he needed to get thinner.

"I'm glad to see you're eating again." Berwarld's smug voice broke through his train of thought and to his horror Norway looked down at his plate only to be met with a blank, white surface. He felt the last bite of meat in his mouth, hallways chewed already.

He forced himself to swallow that last part, his hand slowly placing the fork back on the plate and he pushed his chair back. "Yeah, I'm full now, I'll be going back to my room." He mumbled quickly, making sure to take his napkin full of food. He didn't fail to notice Sweden's pleased look, thinking he had finally fooled Norway into eating. He was so stupid.

Norway rushed to his room, going straight for the bathroom connected to it. Ana came rushing after him, screeching at him; furious at him for letting himself slip so easily.

_You stupid little fuck! How could you? You were doing so well, I am so fucking disappointed in you. _He herded Norway into the bathroom and over toilet. He hesitated just a moment before he stuck two fingers down his throat as far as it would go, retching and eyes watering as he tried again and again. _Do it, Sverre! You can, you did it just last night, get to it, get that filth out of your body. _ He retched again before he threw up, clinging to the bowl as the food left him, wasted. He didn't want it, he didn't need it.

After several, painful minutes passed and only bile came up; Sverre stood up shakily, stumbling to the sink to rinse out his mouth and splashing his face with water quickly to cover up the evidence. He took a moment to study himself in the mirror, mouth slightly open and water still dripping down his chin. His hair was dishevelled, sticking out at random directions. His fringe clung to his forehead, both from the water and sweat. His eyes were bloodshot, skin even more ashen than before, almost translucent. His lips were cracked and all in all; it looked like he'd been through hell and back.

_Don't just stand there, get moving. You'll get fat, you're disgusting. Get on it, this is your punishment. _And Sverre ran, and ran, and ran some more. Out of the room, down the stair, out the mansion and off to nowhere. Muscles cramping and chest lungs screaming for a break. Hours and hours of running. There wouldn't be any sleep this night either.

**To Be Continued**

**And we meet again. Terribly sorry for the long wait, but here it is. I hope it's not too bad, I don't have anyone to read through it and I've decided that I really am getting too lazy to get a beta and work through that. **

**So Denmark's coming in the next chapter, wonder how that will go. And this story is straying more and more from the historic part please don't mind that. It wasn't my intention from the beginning to focus on the historic side. **

**I gave Norway a name, Sorry if you don't like it. I'm only using it at certain times.**

**Tell me what you think, I really do appreciate it!**


	6. Chapter 6: Deprived

Chapter 6: Deprived

_How dare you think you deserve me? _

_Or do you think I deserve you? _

_Well I don't care, either way, _

_After all you've put me through._

There had been an unexpected turn in Sverre one day. Nothing too big of course; just little things here and there. He didn't even realize it himself as it was happening. He was aware that most of his mind was set to losing weight, exercising and eating less; none of these things had appealed to him earlier, right now he would just brush it off as some stupid idea that had gotten to him, nothing of importance. He wasn't completely daft as to not notice that. Even Denmark would have seen if he had been there, not that the Norwegian was wishing for the idiot to be there.

By a sheer stroke of luck, Sweden hadn't noticed. Of course, it wasn't _that _hard to understand, as the already icy front between the two countries had become near arctic over the time. It was quite hard to notice things that one weren't present to notice, no matter how much one meddled with the other's business.

However, just because it had gone unnoticed, didn't mean it wasn't there. And it was surprisingly difficult to stop what he was doing. Because as it was, Norway wasn't acting as normal; he wasn't calm and collected, quiet and thoughtful. At any other time, he could have spent hours sitting in the library and reading a book or just have a chat with the creatures in the forest.

Did he sit for hours in a comfy, over-stuffed chair, reading books that took him away to the far out corners of the earth now?

_Useless fatty. You can't sit still; you won't lose weight that way. _

The only times he, or Ana more like it, allowed himself to read any books now, were if he either walked around the room with the book in his hands or moved otherwise. He would tap his feet against the floor until the muscles in his legs were numb and tingling. Or until Sweden got fed up and threatened to set him out to peel potatoes again if he didn't stop.

He couldn't take some time to the fairies, trolls or huldra, he didn't have time for that anymore. He had to spend his time worrying about how much he weighed, how much he had eaten and how much he had exercised. It probably wasn't the most exciting day, but he had to do it. And his progress was great, he may not know exactly how much, but weight was gone. He had given up on most of the things he enjoyed for- for _this. _

And he was happy, wasn't he? This was all he needed; some weight off his humongous body. To fit his short stature at least, if only he could have been as tall as Sweden, maybe he wouldn't look as stubby. And he would be intimidating, of course. That was a plus. Had he been intimidating, he would surely not be in a union right now, or better yet, maybe he would be the bigger of the two and the king would be Norwegian... He could dream at least, a little bit. No one could deny him that.

Dreaming. Hoping and wishing for something better. Not for himself anymore, for his people, for his country and all those who suffered just because he couldn't defend himself, they were weak and pathetic. He had been a Viking, a proud Viking nation, conquering lands and areas, much bigger than he would ever get. He had even found a little brother, he had found Vinland but he had slipped away.

Where was he now? Sitting in a cold room in nowhere, Sweden. Alone and defeated, completely harmless; stripped of all will to fight anymore. He probably couldn't pick up one of his old swords anymore either, his arms were too weak and _fragile_. Robbed of his honour and his own will, bound to a place he had never wanted to be. Blast the reasons, forget about the causes. He didn't want _this_, he was sick and tired of _this._ Norway was no dog, to be tied to a pole day in and day out, patiently waiting for its master to feed and care for him.

A breaking point was near, that much was clear. There would be no more unions. No more sicknesses, no more deaths and wars. Not when he didn't want to. Norway would not let anyone use his people, _his _land for their own good. It was time, it was Norway's time again, he wanted to prosper and there were a stirring in his heart that spurred him on him going. His people were complaining, they were tired too, enough of this union.

But no one wants to be lonely, do they? Not completely, not for the rest of their pitiful existence. Not even Norway, the cold, emotionless and seemingly arrogant and people hating _thing. _A thing, he couldn't even call himself a man, he was a country, had been, and was trying to be. Look where he had ended up, starving in a huge, antique, elaborately decorated and overly pompous mansion, bustling with content servants and happy people. Smiles and laughter, jobs being done, papers signed, countries run.

Only miserable little Sverre sitting in his miserable, cold and dark little room; a blanket wrapped around him as he can't even seem to bother getting into bed but stays by his place next to the window where he can see the forest, his friends and family. Closed off now, be it intentionally or by accident. He didn't belong anywhere anymore; he was just there, trying to defy Sweden in the most stupid and childish way possible.

"My mind has deluded me..." a pale flush spread out over the cold window glass as small, almost silent words were whispered from pale, thin lips, barely moving. "I don't know what it wants anymore." The dull, hopeless, blue eyes closed as they had many times, lingering as pale brows knit together and a grimace marred the ghastly pale face. "Why can't I just me free?"

_Stop complaining now, get off that seat and move around again. _

_Move around, move around. Tired feet dragging against the ground. _

**-Norwegian Boredom-**

"Yah lo'k horribl', go p't som' other cloth's on."

"No, n't that one; use 'nother jack't."

"'t's too big 'n yah, D'nmark would th'nk I wasn't f'eding yah prop'rly."

_Hah, I actually found that one somewhat funny._

"What w're yah think'ng? Yah l'ok like a stabl' boy."

_I might as well be one, at least I'd have something to do. _

"Y'ur hair 's brittl', m'ybe y'u shouldn't show'r as much."

"Yah weren't at d'nner t'night."

"Eat."

"Eat."

"_Eat."_

Words, sentences, accusations; thrown around the mansion in the days before Denmark would actually visit. Sweden would become increasingly irritable; the tiniest little thing could get him off so everyone knew to stay far away from him. Norway was especially good at it. One would think that the Norwegian had learned to recognize the other's footsteps, for as soon as the taller blond would come any closer than two rooms away, Norway would vanish as if in thin air.

This behaviour, this hide and seek game was grating on Sweden's nerves too. Not only would the one person that clashed with him the worst coming to visit, but his other companion was treating him as if he was the plague. It wasn't like he was going to explode on him either: Norway may have been good at keeping a cool face but Sweden was just as capable of keeping his calm when the situation called for it.

It was only a matter of pure luck that no-one blew up in the days before the, by now infamous Dane, announced his arrival. He was surprisingly anonymous even as he came in a simple horse carriage by his own, paid the driver before any of the residents of the Swedish household could have any time to react, and taken some light baggage to the door; for once waiting until someone would open the door for him.

However, it didn't last too long before the ever impatient side of the Dane was shown once again as he knocked once, twice, three times before he decided 'to hell with the formalities, this is Sweden we're talking about' and threw open the door with an exited shout. "Norge, I'm here!"

Denmark must have expected something like a grand entrance, maybe a few maids throwing flower petals by his side to emphasize his greatness. What he got was an empty entrance hall and some surprisingly dusty paintings adding to rather strange atmosphere.

Mathias stepped onto the clean floor, dirtying it as he always forgot to take his boots off at first, or at least clean them before stepping inside. The baggage he had brought with him was dropped on the floor carelessly.

"Ey, Sweden! Where are you?" Any formalities were thrown out the window, why would Denmark care anyway when the Swede had been rude enough not to open for him when he had actually been kind enough to knock.

Suddenly there was a crash a little further into the house, followed by a series of muffled, rapid conversation between two people the Dane couldn't quite identify. Puzzled by this, Denmark started walking towards the noises that seemed to increase in volume as the conversation turned to an argument. There was a faint memory in the back of Denmark's mind that told him the noises came from the dining room.

Since the fight didn't seem to be coming to an end anyway, Denmark came up with the idea of just walking into the room and announcing his presence. By doing this, the other two individuals would of course forget whatever they were so upset about and come running to him, the king! _Former one at least, Denmark's glory days seemed to be coming to a slow end. _

Well, no use in dwelling in those thoughts now, this was the time of his grand entrance anyway. Just a quick check on his clothes and brushing his wild hair back and then Denmark drew in a deep breath and pushed the double doors open to reveal... ?

_Two happy nations so very happy to see their Danish friend; the argument quickly forgotten and everything was well and fine in the household. They ate a grand meal, laughed and reminisced together before the three of them quietly retired to bed. Of course with a kiss on the cheek from his precious Norway. _

_... Haha, no. _

The sight that met him was very different from the one that he had conjured up in his imagination. The only resemblance would probably have to be the persons as it really were Sweden and Norway arguing. However, the Dane really wasn't too sure if that really was Norway.

Sweden looked as tall and intimidating as ever, the glasses were still the same even if they were a reasonably new touch to his appearance. The frown was still there and this time it was directed at a shorter blond with a glare just as cold and _angry_ as the Swede's.

Norway though... That hardly even looked like him. Bones were sticking out where they definitely shouldn't be, the skin was drawn so taught over it that it looked _painful_. Not even the hair had the same shine as the last time Denmark had seen him, it had become brittle and dull, looking a lot thinner than before too.

"Norge... What have you done to yourself?"

_The silence that followed was almost as crushing as the explosion that came afterwards. _


End file.
