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

Chapter 13

    Norway stumbled through the forest, his eyesight blurred. The tall trees allowed only a thin layer of snow to reach the earth, and so the protruding rocks and roots cut at his bare feet, causing a trail of red to follow him as he ran. His tears turned to ice as they fell off his cheeks.
    Norway was young here, and ever since he first opened his eyes, he hadn’t known a day where he wasn’t cold or hungry.
    But that was his curse. A curse he so desperately wanted to break.
    The trees thinned out and the distance between them grew. Norway heard the sound of the ocean and ran faster. He had forgotten his fishing gear, but he was desperate. He’d catch a fish with his bare hands if necessary.
    He caught sight of the blue water on the horizon, but then a pang of hunger clenched his stomach. Norway cried out, coming to a halt. He grabbed his stomach and winced, but the pain continued. He collapsed onto his knees, raising his eyes upward, hoping that someone might come along the forest path and help him.
    But his hope was in vain.
    Water filled his eyes again as he moaned. He wiped away the tears and shut his eyes tightly.
    And there, in the darkness, was a man.
    He startled and opened his eyes. He stared at the forest in confusion, and then shut his eyes again.     The man was still there. Except, he didn’t really look like a man. He looked like a god. He was tall with broad shoulders and terrifying red eyes. He had long white hair and fair skin, but there was a sort of shadowy appearance about him that Norway couldn’t pinpoint but couldn’t shake, either. The man stood behind a mirror lined with bronze, a long sword in his hands.
    Norway stared at him in awe.
    “W-who are you?” he whispered, and he realized his hunger pains had subsided momentarily.
    “I am what you could become, young Jarl,” the god said, flaunting his sword.
    “Vhat?” Norway said, confused as he stared at the strong man. “Don’t taunt me, god, apparition, vhatever you are. How could I ever be like you? I am not powerful. I am only a small, starving land in the north.”
    “You can call me what you like,” the man said, sheathing his sword. “And I don’t taunt you— if you will simply touch the mirror, I will show you how you, too, can become powerful. Together, we will build you up to be the most powerful country in the world. All you have to do is touch the mirror.” The man touched his side of the mirror.
    Norway hesitated.
    “How do I know this isn’t a trick?” he said, folding his arms across his chest.
    “I suppose I could leave you until all the natives of your country have froze to death or starved,” the ghost said, removing his hand from the mirror and turning his back.
    “Vait, no,” Norway said, walking toward the mirror. The ghost looked back at him, a sly smile growing on his face.
    “If you really vant to help me,” Norway said slowly, “Then prove it, and I vill touch the mirror.”
    The spirit turned back, looking thoughtful.
    “Show me how you plan on building my country up, and then perhaps I vill trust you,” Norway said again, planting his feet firmly in front of the mirror.
    The spirit was silent for a long moment, but then he looked into Norway’s eyes and smiled.
    “Very well, Norway,” he said at last, “I will do it.”
    “Good, now, vhat do I do?” Norway said, opening his eyes.
    “Go to the village and do exactly as I tell you to,” the spirit said in his mind. “Because to begin forming your kingdom, young Jarl, we’re going to need a ship.”



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    The dream ended just as his alarm sounded. Norway lay there for another moment, however, listening to the annoying beeping sound.
    “You trusted me then, and I kept my promise, didn’t I? I built your kingdom up to be the most powerful one in the world. Why didn’t you touch the mirror, Lukas? Don’t you realize that it wasn’t until after I left you that your kingdom collapsed?”
    “You built my kingdom on stolen treasures and the blood of innocent people,” Norway replied aloud, “And then I realized there vere better vays to build a kingdom— peaceful, civilized vays.”
    “Ja? Then how come your kingdom is still so lowly? Why haven’t you built it up?”
    “I’m trying,” Norway said.
    The ghost scoffed.
    “I gave your kingdom superiority in less than half a century. How long have you been trying to build up your kingdom again?”
    “Superiority isn’t vhat I vant. It’s never vhat I vanted,” Norway said, firmly. “Vhen you first met me, all I vanted vas protection from the harsh elements and enough food for my people. And now I have not only that, but a fine running government, an education system, a regular tourist profit, and so much more.”
    “Well then, if you have so much, why are you so unhappy?”
    Norway sat up and shook his head.
    “Why are you so discontent?”
    Norway turned off his alarm.
    “I don’t think you know what you want.”
    Norway swung his legs over the bed.
    “But I do. I gave it to you once.”
    Norway stood.
    “I can give it to you again. I can build up your kingdom again, if you’ll let me. Why won’t you trust me like you once did?”
    “Because I know vhat you’re trying to do,” Norway replied in a low voice. “And I vill never touch the mirror. Now, leave me alone.”
    “You don’t seem to understand. I don’t need you to touch the mirror to control you. You will bend to my will one way or another.”
    “Nei, because I know about you now,” he said, “And I von’t be so easily influenced.”
    “You think you’re impervious to me, but you will see. I’ll break you eventually.”
    “And you underestimate me. I’m stronger now, I von’t break.”
    “Oh, but you will.”
    “Shut up and leave me alone!” Norway roared.
    “Nei. I don’t think I will. This is fun, seeing you fight so hard against the inevitable.”
    “It’s not inevitable! I vill get rid of you somehow!”
    “Nei, you won’t, Lukas. I wish you would realize that so we could spare ourselves from all of this pointless fighting.”
    Before Norway could reply, his phone suddenly rang. He blinked twice, and then looked at his iPhone. It was only six in the morning. A number he didn’t recognize was calling.
    “I’d rather talk to a telemarketer than you,” he grumbled as he picked up the phone and slid to answer.
    “Hei, this is Lukas Bondevik,” he greeted.
    “Hei, lærer Bondevik! It is me, Kirk!”
    Norway couldn’t help but smile at the friendly voice he hadn’t heard in years
    “Kirk, it’s been a long time! How are you?”
    Kirk Frantzen was one of Norway’s first students when he began teaching music, a career he had given up over a decade ago, but had never regretted. Kirk had always been his favorite student, and had gone on to become a famous violinist and composer. It had been ages since Norway had heard from him, but he had always been an avid fan of his works and had been to a few of his performances. The good memories flooded his head until Kirk replied:
    “I’m sorry, it must be early there! I’m in America at the moment visiting family and forgot about the time difference… Anyway, I’ve been good, I mean, times have been hard recently, but things are looking up. How are you, Lukas?”
    Lukas sighed shortly.
    “I’d have to say the same. Times are hard, but they’re getting better.” They were both silent for a time. “But is there something I can help you vith Kirk?”
    “Ja, actually…”
    “Vhat is it?”
    “Well, you see, I was recently asked to play there in Oslo as a guest artist. The local orchestra is putting on a special, one-weekend-only performance of Grieg’s Peer Gynt Suite as well as some of his other works toward the end of November. I was excited, until I realized that I am helping my mother settle into her new home that same week. My father died recently, you know, and I want to be there for her…”
    “My condolences,” Lukas said, quietly.
    “Thank you. Anyway, I told the conductor about you and your work, and now they’re extending the position to you, if you want to take it. The pay is quite good… but you never cared about that sort of thing, did you?”
    Lukas was quiet for a minute. He already knew the piece by heart and improvising was always easy. But he hadn’t held the violin in months… then again, it might be good to pick it up again. It might help keep his mind off of things.
    “If you don’t want to do it, that’s fine, too. You were just the first person that came to mind when the conductor asked.”
    “Nei, nei, I think I’ll do it,” Norway said, sitting down on the end of his bed. “Vhat’s the conductor’s name?”
    Kirk gave him all the information he’d need to know and said he’d tell the conductor, who’d probably call him later that day. Norway thanked him and they said their goodbyes. As Norway hung up, he sighed.
    “I’ll have to go home and fetch my violin this veekend,” he murmured as he continued to get ready for the day. A few minutes later he found himself humming the popular piece of Grieg’s, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.