This is only the prologue to the story; the story will start with Norway and Iceland living with their new guardian. Denmark will come into this story right away, trust me. This is a Norway x Denmark AU story, don't like don't read. I know this is short and not all that good, but I wrote this because I got bored, I don't know if I'll continue it or not, just depends

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia, though I wish I did. Also, if you've ever read the book 'Shivers' this is not baied off that, but I did take her idea to put the temperature under each chapter, so that's not mine either

Anyway, enjoy

Shivers

70 Degrees; Oslo, Norway

(Alexander)

The day my parents died was probably the warmest day of my life. Oh, and it was also when I met him.

I remember why I've always hated funerals. They're dreary and depressing, everyone wears black and nobody wants to say anything unless they have to speak. It blurs the line between life and death, and makes us all realize how close death really can be to us; chasing our tails in our everyday life. As our friends or family pass on, it only shadows our hearts into views of our own inevitable deaths. I hated that feeling.

I clung to my younger brother as the priest spoke his quiet blessings over the two coffins that lay side by side; lid closed to hide the torn bodies of the inhabitants under the top. His silky silver hair currently framed around my face as I rested my nose and mouth against his head.. His ice blue eyes were drifted closed and his fingers gripped around my arms so tightly that his knuckles were white and my arms ached. But I didn't blame him; our parents were dead, after all. My blonde hair, messy from nights of bad sleep rustled in the cold breeze and danced along with my loose clothes in a movement of dance. A scarf wrapped around both our necks, tying us together. I had wrapped the scarf around my brother as he had started shivering as the night set in on the final minutes of this funeral; the burial.

I watched as the caskets were lowered into the ground, and any last partial glimpse of my parents I could get was gone with that first toss of muddy dirt into the two side-by-side holes in the ground. My brother tensed in my arms, and I whispered quiet words of apology and comfort into his ear. I blamed myself for this. My parents were dead; we were told they died in a car crash because of a drunken driver. We would have died too, if we had went along with them to the store where they were headed. But I convinced them to let me stay so I could help my brother with his homework. I didn't know that would be the last time I ever say them alive. In a way, I would have rather died with them. Because now, we really don't have anyone except for our mothers brother, our uncle. But I hate that man; and he hates us. Whenever we saw him we'd get into arguments, him and I; my brother always terrified because of it. I'm afraid that he'd start hitting us or abusing us if we live with him. He has hit me before… But that is beside the point here. The point is our parents are dead; and we are all alone. All because of a man too stupid to not drive while he was drunk. And you want to know the worst part? That man walked away from the crash with only bruises and cuts. It just wasn't fair.

When I next turned my attention on the grave site, I saw that it was already fully covered over; and what few guests had come to mourn had nearly all left by now. Some shot us sympathetic glances as they left, but I ignored them all with my usual calm demeanor as I usually wore. My purple colored hues settled on the tombstones that read my parent's names in perfectly engraved marble.

Astra and Jakob Hallkatla,

Rest In Piece

I heard my brother stifle a choking sound in his throat, and I knew he was trying not to cry. He, unlike me I must admit, was much closer to my parents than I was. I know how much he must miss them, and I feel so sorry for him. I want to help, but… I don't know what to do. I am horrible with emotions and feelings, even my own, so I don't know what to say to comfort him beyond 'It will be alright;. I'm a horrible brother, aren't I?

"Ice…" I began, using my common nickname for him we have used since children. That nickname came to be because, while we lived in Norway and that was where I was born; my brother was born while on a vacation in Iceland. So the nickname 'ice' kind of stuck. But it fit, since he tended to have a calm demeanor just like I did, most of the time anyway. "Do you want to say goodbye to mom and dad?" I asked quietly. My sibling quietly nodded, and I led him over to where the grave sites were. I pulled the scarf away from my neck so it only hung around him, allowing him to kneel before the graves of our parents. Pale hands folded together and he bowed his head, muttering under his breath. I only caught a few choked words as he tried not to cry, things like 'I'm so sorry', or, 'I'll miss you so much'. Even, 'I need you here', which really only made me feel worse about what happened.

I had been standing still watching my brother when I first heard the footsteps. My brother seemed not to notice the sound, so caught up in his reminiscing and speaking to our parents, even though they couldn't hear. But I heard it, footsteps crunching over grass in even heavy steps. The kind of eerie sound in an empty graveyard that could make a listener hold their breath in anticipation, maybe even fear about what was to come in time. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until the footsteps stopped right next to me and the air rushed out of my lungs when I opened my mouth. Who was this person? Someone who was at the funeral and forgot something, maybe? But as I turned I realized that was anything but the case; I didn't recognize this man at all.

A man taller than I was, much taller to my chagrin, with a muscular yet lean built form stood next to me wearing a long black trench coat over his body. I could tell he was probably older than me too; I being about nineteen and he appearing more like he was twenty-one or somewhere around there. He had wild blonde hair that attached to his skull, messy not being a good enough word to describe the spiky manner that came to mind with his hair style. And yet it seemed to work for someone like him, with his angular features and pale peach colored face. I could just catch sight of dark ocean blue eyes as they looked forward at my parents' grave site and my brother kneeling before them. I caught their full color when his eyes turned to meet mine. His expression was currently pretty blank, but there was a sort of wildness in his eyes that told me he was holding back how he wanted to act right now. His slightly slouched, relaxed form of standing suggested a teenage-boy kind of attitude in him. One of those people who thought everyone wanted him. I hated that. He opened his mouth to speak at me, saying,

"You… Are you their son?" He asked, with a nod of his head to the grave site once again. I found myself vaguely annoyed at such a question, but I replied either way, as I was taught to so when I was asked a question.

"Yes." My voice held its usual monotonous air to it, sounding like a dead sort of speech. At least, that's what people told me I sounded like when I spoke.

"… Sorry." Tall Blonde said after a moment of silence. It was then that I recognized him. I had seen him only once before, for a moment; and only in dim dark light. I vividly remember him standing there, eye's half lidded in a passing headache, one hand twined through his hair as he looked at the scene before him, of that red car smashed into a blue van beyond repair. Blood dripped down his cheek from a bad gash on his head, but he looked otherwise unharmed then. As I looked at this tall blonde before me, I noticed the stitches along his forehead, parallel to his eyes and partially hidden by the hair that sometimes hung in his face. My expression instantly sharpened into a glare.

"It was you. You killed my parents." I accused coldly. This drew my brother's attention, as I noticed his head snap back to look at who I was speaking too at the words; his trance of speaking with our parents broken at the time. Tall Blonde looked like he wanted to say something then, but I beat him to the punch. I wasn't going to let him even try to defend himself. "Don't apologize, you're not sorry. This is your fault! Why are you the one who's still alive while my parents are dead?" I demanded. I tended to keep a calm demeanor all the time, even to an annoying point, but I did have times when I could get easily angered. And this was one of those times; in the face of the man who was the start of all my problems. "You should have died!" I shouted at him. I noticed the man visibly flinch, and for just a moment I regretted my shouting, but only just; because I remembered what he had done.

"Dude, I'm sorry… My friend Gilbert told me to drive-"

"Don't apologize." I repeated, forcing myself back into my calm, cold attitude once again. And why did he call me 'dude'? Just by listening to his speech I could tell he was a person I would hate. He seemed like one of those 'out-there' kind of people, who do things they shouldn't and are usually loud and obnoxious. He must be withdrawing himself now, since he was in the face of two now orphaned kids whose parents he killed by his own stupidity.

"… I see I shouldn't have come here then," Tall Blonde eventually muttered under his breath.

"No, you shouldn't have." I agreed coldly, reaching out to help my brother up off the ground so we could leave. Unfortunately, Tall Blonde kept talking.

"Listen, my name's Mathis," Mathis? He must be Danish, I decided, you could tell by his name and despite speaking in Norwegian perfectly, he did have a bit of an accent to his tone. "And I want to make this up to you. Maybe we could, I don't know... talk about this or something..." He said after a moment, running a hand through his wild blonde hair and looking up at the dark sky. He seemed hesitent, picking his words out of all the possibilies of what he could say. Oh, had he never killed another person before? I thought sarcasicly to myself. Yeah, right. I shot another glare at him,

"No. Why would I want to talk with an idiot like you? Not to mention the man who killed my parents." I said. My voice had long turned monotonous again, but in a way it made my speech sound even colder to the Danish man. Mathis vaguely frowned at the refusal, but I said nothing more about it and simply walked off with my brother beside me; holding my hand protectively around his as we walked away from that man that changed our lives.

I didn't know how much he would change mine in particular until after that first encounter.

Yeah, it's not much. But pease review, I need comments D=