Sov Gott

Wanted

Denmark took the last blow of the day straight on. He felt one of his teeth get knocked out of place from the impact, but he refused to whimper or cower or flinch and give these people the satisfaction of watching him give up. He had to survive; he wanted to see Norway and Iceland one more time before his country perished.

The two men Denmark assumed were guards came out and took his arms, slung the limbs over their shoulders and dragged him out of the room. Blood had been sprayed onto nearly every surface in the room as they had tortured him repetitively. His entire body hurt, and he had lost so much blood that he had passed out numerous times. However, he was cursed with being a Personification, thus his body continued to revive and generate new skin and blood as soon as it had flown off of his bones. Denmark's legs were too weak to carry himself at this point, especially since his kneecaps were regenerating and healing at the moment. He passed out along the way as well, conveniently coming to as they threw him back into his cell. He thudded onto the ground roughly, the square of his back hitting the cold, hard pavement and causing shockwaves to race through his senses.

Denmark shut his eyes and tried to ignore the reality that was facing him. He imagined all the good memories with Norway and Iceland and Sweden and Finland, and even Sealand too. Their faces swam in his head as he tried to remember them. It was getting harder and harder for him to do so without pain leaking into his heart.

Denmark missed waking up and knowing his Norge was next to him, just so Denmark could hug him until the Norwegian woke up.

He missed Iceland's angsty adolescent behavior.

He even found himself missing Sweden's calculating eyes and gentle silence.

Most of all he missed Norway. If it were Norway here and not me, Nor would've escaped already and been back home, nice and safe, Denmark thought, smiling to himself as he realized the fact. This brought him to question one thing, however. The question was reoccurring and had always been, but even more so now than before.

What if Norway wouldn't have wanted to come back?

His cell had a bathroom and a small, hard mat to lie on. Considering everything else, he at least had clean, running water, which was more than some people around the world had, and therefore he was grateful. He awkwardly stood up and walked back to this bathroom, supporting himself using the rims of the sink and holding his head directly over the drain. There wasn't a mirror, but Denmark didn't need one to know that he looked horrible.

It reminded him of several years ago, when he was younger and less experienced with alcohol. Norway had found him at two in the morning, facedown on the carpet almost like he was sleeping. Then Norway had dragged him back to bed and tucked him in. The next morning he had was sick multiple times and had a major migraine, but Nor had tempered through the complaining and whining and took care of him.

Now, well... Now Denmark had to take care of himself. He ran his hands through his hair, rinsing off his face. He stumbled back to the main chamber afterwards and sat down with his legs stick out straight in front of him. He tried to look away from his knee, when forming bone it was painful enough, and looking at it made him sick. He forced himself to think of the positives in this situation, as his muscles and bones kept growing back he felt younger, and he found that he could move with more ease than before. Many people paid an awfully expensive fee for surgery to get new joints, and his body was capable of just growing new bone.

Instead he focused on the other Nordics. He remembered when he had first run across Sweden. He had been out raiding and landed in the town Sweden lived in. The two had fought, and although one had a black eye and the other had a split lip, in the morning the two had a drink together and laughed it off. They had made a vow to be friends until their last breaths that day.