Chapter One

For the first time in many nights, Norway was sleeping peacefully. Without Denmark to bother him, the Norwegian was able to close his eyes with no loud disturbances. The Danish nation had fallen asleep a couple hours ago. Everything was tranquil and serene until the magic using nation caught a whiff of smoke invading his nose.

At first, Norway brushed it off as nothing. Denmark probably got drunk and started trying to cook.

'Wait a second…'

Now slightly concerned, Norway began to wrack his brain for a possible source of the smell. Denmark was sleeping, Finland and Sweden were holding a movie marathon in Sweden's room, and Iceland was feeding his puffin in his own room. The Norwegian blinked his eyes open intending to go downstairs and figure out what was causing the smoke.

Norway, who was still under the effects of sleep failed to notice his most prized possession was still on his night stand. Normally, Norway would carry his hair cross everywhere but he was distracted by the exhaust-like odor.

Opening his door, Norway began to sweat from the sheer amount of heat radiating from the hallway.

'What the hell is g—'

Norway promptly froze when he spotted the orange glow making itself known from around the corner. Sprinting around the hallway bend, Norway's eyes widened in shock and horror.

The carpet was ablaze with a roaring fire, making it impossible to see the other side. Vast quantities of smoke were rolling off of the burning material in waves, making Norway's eyes burn and tear up. The blaze was growing rapidly, having no direction to spread but towards Norway.

He opened his mouth to shout a warning but luckily, there was no need. Apparently Finland and Sweden had been alerted by the smell of smoke and were already bolting down the stairs and towards the front door. Norway chose to be smart and follow their example. The rapid, thudding sounds of footsteps behind him told the Norwegian that Iceland and Denmark were fleeing right behind him.

Clearing the front door, Norway skidded to a stop by Finland who was frantically clinging to Sweden. The larger nation held a cellphone and it was obvious by his fast paced words that he was on the line with the fire department. Hearing the rustle of grass, Norway spun around to find Iceland and Denmark covered in soot but unharmed. The five of them seemed to have luck on their side, as no one had more than a minor scrape decorating their bodies.

There was no need for words of reassurance, just each others presence and safety was enough. Besides, Norway didn't trust himself not to break his mask of calm facade if he were to try and speak.

Now that the danger was gone, Norway looked back to asses the damage. Smoke was billowing out of the windows in continuous clouds of black fog. The fire appeared to have spread drastically, and was now encompassing the entire roof. If Norway listened closely, he could hear the sound of creaking and groaning wood of the roaring of the inferno.

Norway assumed the whole ordeal could have been worse. Everyone was unharmed and safe. Iceland was able to get out alive as well. As for the house, it was old and started to smell like mold so Norway didn't mind that it would probably end up in ruins. There was nothing of great importance inside…

'WAIT.'

Frantically pulling his hand up to feel his hair, Norway's suspicions were confirmed. His most prized possession was still in the burning house. The hair clip cross Norway had possessed for numerous centuries was most likely melting into a puddle on his nightstand.

"My cross…"

Norway whispered. Glancing over in confusion, Denmark voiced hoarsely,

"What'd ya say Norge?"

"My cross."

Norway spoke louder this time, eyes trained on the burning building. He had to retrieve his clip.

"My cross is still in the house."

And with that statement, Norway bolted back in the direction of the smoldering dwelling. The Norwegian fancied that he could have been in and out of the flaming abode in a second if it weren't for the strong, firm arms that encircled his waist and prevented him from moving. Norway began to thrash around, his mind set of finding his cross, even if he were injured in the process.

"Woah! Norge calm down!"

The last thing Norway wanted to do was calm down. His mind was in a state of turmoil, and logical thinking was the last thing on Norway's list of to-do. The Norwegian felt himself being lifted of the ground and transferred into another set of arms. These were a stronger set, but they were less warm and comforting. Norway immediately recognized them to belong to Sweden. He turned his head, only to meet a pair of ocean blue eyes. Their gazes locked, and Norway found he couldn't draw away from the dane's startling irises. Denmark's face was serious, devoid of the usual playfulness it showed. His posture was stiff and commanding.

"Listen to me Norge. You stay here and stay safe, okay? I'm gonna go get your cross."

Turning to Sweden, he then ordered,

"Don't let anyone follow me."

None of the nordics had time to react and grab the Danish nation before he went sprinting back into the house.

(Denmark POV)

Weaving through the burning house was quite similar to fighting on the battlefield. Dodge a melting piece of furniture. Duck under a burning support beam. Leap out of the way of a collapsing wall. Luckily, Denmark had participated in countless battles or else he would have been crushed long ago.

Over the din of the flames, Denmark could faintly hear the wail of sirens. He could tell the fire trucks still had a ways to drive before they arrived. Besides, Denmark had made it this far, there was no point in turning back.

The Danish nation twisted his way around a fallen lamp as he neared the stairwell. They seemed to be in good enough condition to support his weight. Throwing caution to the wind, Denmark quickly jumped up the stairs and reached the second floor.

The topmost layer of the house was in the worst condition out of the whole building. The fire had clearly started at the end of the hallway. Denmark could see the floor had already burned out. Sweden's room, which was closest to the source of the fire had been all but turned to cinders. Fortunately, Norway's room was the farthest away from the flames and therefore the safest.

Taking care not to directly touch the heated metal of the handle, Denmark chose instead to just kick down the door leading to the Norwegian's room. Most of the objects in the room were already ablaze and the smoke obstructed the Dane's view of the premises.

Denmark began striding quickly towards the dresser. He was running out of time to locate the cross, soon the whole room would be encompassed with the suffocating inferno. Finding no clip on the dresser, Denmark whipped around and faced the bed.

He spotted the clip immediately. Its metal surface reflected the light of the fire making it very hard to ignore. Dashing over, Denmark scooped it up and pocketed the object in his dusky black trench coat.

The Dane then began the precarious journey back towards fresh air. The beams in the ceiling were groaning louder now, and obvious sign that they wouldn't be able to stay stable much longer.

Denmark picked his way through the door and out into the hallway. The fire had spread to Finland's room and the smoke was even more besieging than before.

As Denmark turned towards the stairs, he hesitated. The five seconds he wasted in favor of glancing backwards at the fire cost Denmark the few precious seconds he had to escape.

Jumping at a sudden crash, he once again spun around to find a wooden beam had fallen from the ceiling. It was currently residing on the first couple of steps, making it impossible for Denmark to reach the bottom.

Not only was Denmark out of options, but he was out of time. Smoke and ash filled his lungs making breathing a difficult task. The Dane was currently loosing the fight against unconsciousness, and black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. Drawing breath was painful and no matter how hard Denmark's chest heaved, it did nothing to expel the substances from his lungs. His arms were littered with burns and scrapes. There was a particularly nasty scorch along the Dane's chest.

While he was struggling to inhale, Denmark failed to notice the snapping of breaking wood coming from right above him. A large support beam had been jostled from its original position by the ever-spreading fire. It descended rapidly, hitting the unsuspecting nation square in the back. The movement of the support beam dislodged other beams necessary in keeping the roof together. In the span of a few seconds, the whole roof had collapsed.

Denmark was knocked to the ground when the first log hit. The pain was beyond belief and it was a miracle he didn't pass out. The agony was intense, and spread throughout the Dane's whole body like wildfire. If Denmark wasn't currently trapped under a burning log struggling to breath, he would have laughed at the irony.

More logs began raining down and Denmark couldn't help but be thankful one landed on his head. He endured a short period of pure torment before his eyes slipped closed. The suffering was excruciating, the inferno was loud and bright, the logs were heavy and torturous, and the darkness that followed was welcoming.

(Norway POV)

Still trapped in the arms of Sweden, Norway watched in alarm as the roof of their home buckled. With Denmark still inside of it. The Norwegian let out a wretched scream of distress as his best friend was buried under the rubble. He had always thought of the Dane as more than a friend and now he would never be able to find out if his feelings were returned.

As the wailing sirens drew closer, Norway's flailing began renewed and he managed to break through Sweden's now slack hold. It was Norway's intention to race towards the house, but when his feet hit the grass, Norway's legs gave out. The Norwegian was unable to move from his spot in the dry and dusty soil.

Norway stared blankly at the destroyed dwelling as tears spilled onto his cheeks. He let out a wail of remorse and buried his head in his hands. Without looking up, the Norwegian could tell by the loud sniffles and sobs that the remaining nordics were grieving for the lost nation as well.

Fire trucks sped towards the flaming house and skidded to a stop directly in front of it. Fire fighters began to unravel the hose and slowly began to extinguish the fire.

Norway was unaware of how much time passed before the blaze had been , he never removed his head from his cupped hands. The distressed nation could vaguely make out the voice of a firefighter questioning another person.

"Sir, is there a person inside the building?"

"Y-yes he w-went back t-to retrieve an item."

"Can you tell me his name and what he looks like?"

"H-his name i-is Mathias. H-he has b-blond, spiked hair, b-blue eyes, and is r-really t-tall. He was w-wearing a b-black trench coat o-over his p-pajamas."

"Thank you for the information. Our team will find him, I promise. I need you to go sit down, and try to overcome the shock if you can."

"O-o-okay."

Norway instantly identified the voice as Finland's. He was probably beating himself up over not grabbing Denmark in time.

'No, this is nobody's fault but mine. My stupid cross…'

Norway began to sob harder and barely registered someone wrapping a blanket around his prone figure. Peeking out from beneath his splayed fingers, the Norwegian met the saddened gaze of Sweden. Iceland and Finland were standing a few steps behind the taller nation. Their faces were red and puffy from crying over the lost nordic. Even Sweden had traces of tear tracks still evident on his face.

Gradually the other nations made their way to Norway's side. Each nordic emitted waves of despair as they watched the firefighters sift through the remains of the dwelling they once called home. Norway stared blankly at the dying embers of the rubble. The love of his life was dead. The precious idiot— his precious idiot was lying alone with glazed eyes and blue lips. The thought of Denmark's corpse made the Norwegian want to curl up alone and isolated for the rest of his life.

Iceland hated to see his family in this state. He had always had a sneaking suspicion the Dane meant more to Norway than he let on. This tragic ending was more than enough proof. Iceland had never seen the Norse nation show any emotion other than a blank face, or a well hidden blush whenever Denmark had been around. Seeing him shaky and sobbing broke the Icelandic nation's heart.

"Big brother."

Norway didn't so much as twitch.

"Big brother, please."

Norway just cried harder, tears leaking through his fingers and onto the already damp grass below. Letting out a few sniffles of his own, Iceland brushed his shoulder against Norway's own. He was going to stay there and comfort his older brother, no matter what happened. Sweden and Finland had come to an unspoken agreement, they would stay and grieve too.

The remaining nordics resumed staring at nothing, all the while reminiscing over pleasant memories of the lost Dane, hoping beyond hope that this whole incident was just a terrible nightmare that would end when the sun rose.

Unfortunately, the sun did rise and Norway's tear ducts had dried out hours ago. His face was blotchy and red, and his eyes were puffy and swollen.

"Big brother we should leave."

Norway's eyes widened is surprise. He couldn't leave! Denmark was still here! This whole thing was just some elaborate, stupid prank the Dane was pulling. Norway would wait for the idiot to come skipping out of the ruins, perfectly unharmed and glowing so he could yell at Denmark himself.

"No."

"We can co—"

"No."

"Big brother we ne—"

"NO! I'M NOT LEAVING! That idiot is still alive and I'm not going to leave him here!"

Norway panted, he was exhausted from the long night and had put most of his remaining energy into yelling. The other nordics looked at him sympathetically. The first stage of loss is denial, and it was bound to cross Norway's mind sooner or later. The others were worried about the Norwegian's reaction to Denmark's death. It wasn't healthy, and they needed to get him away from the sight of the accident.

Right before Iceland was about to insist on Norway's compliance, a lone voice rang out from the wreckage. The firefighter sounded frantic, and was rapidly issuing orders to his colleagues.

"Call a medical team, stat! Subject is surrounded by blood and heavily scarred. I Need medical assistance immediately! It's unclear whether the subject is breathing!"

Norway sucked in a sharp breath. Sweden and Finland glanced at each other with wide eyes, and Iceland tightened his hold on Mr. Puffin. After the longest minute of Norway's life, he heard the firefighter's voice ring out one more time.

" The subject is breathing. We've got a survivor!"

—

I am a huge sucker for DenNor. I'll update soon! Review and tell me if this is any good.

~ anti-pineapples