Chapter 8

Iceland quickly takes out a photo from his bag underneath his seat and hands it to him.

"There happened to be a Finnish guard to take this picture" he said, not making eye contact with him.

Finland slowly takes it, scared of what the picture holds and even more slowly examines it.

Iceland swore he saw him tremble.

The pictured showed a birds-eye view of what was going on. There showed two figures, both the same height. One looked like it was never touched, the other looked in horrible condition.

"M-my god..." Finland couldn't bare it anymore. A tear rolls down, more joining it.

Iceland hugged the Finnish boy. "... Everything will be alright"

"Alright!? ALRIGHT!?" He yelled on his friend's shirt. "He's going to die!"

Iceland didn't know what to do but comfort him, he just sat there and prayed Sweden would be okay.

Place: Border of Russia and Finland-ish

A scream cut through the silence of falling snow. Sweden was once again on all fours, panting heavily and loudly.

"... How stubborn" Russia said, crossing his arms. His plan of tiring the Swede out worked, but he didn't even surrender yet. "Are you ever going to give up?" No reply cane out other than his breathing. The Russian sighs and walked up to him. "You're in horrible condition, I'm surprised you've gone this far"

"... I-I'm... n't... giv'ng up..." Sweden finally said, inhaling with each word he said. He was over his limit and was on the verge of blacking out. As much as he wanted to surrender, he didn't want to give up. He promised himself to get revenge from the years before, especially during the Finnish War. His legs were shaking as he tried to bring himself up, but fell even before he got a chance to try.

"... I take you are surrendering?" The violet eyed man whispers, as he witnessed his enemy lay there. Deep inside, he still held a small ray of sympathy for him. Everything else of sadism and the desire of winning devoured this small portion. Which was sad, and he even admitted it to himself. He grabbed a fistful of the blonde's hair and helped him at least sit up. Taking his arm to help bring up his dead weight, he let his sit on his legs.

The Swede's glasses where broken, barely making him unable to see what the man was doing. Why didn't he just end it right then and there? Why was he helping him? What is his motive? Question after question appeared in his blurred mind. His body was for once numb from the cold, but that was only since he was beaten so badly. Paralysis took its toll on his body, he became a doll attached to string. Russia pulling the strings as Sweden was being moved without complaint.

Once Russia was satisfied of the position he put him in, he sat in front of him. Sweden tried to concentrate at him, but his blurry vision couldn't make him out.

"Sweden... Your eyes" the Russian started off, his voice low.

"... What abo't them?"

"... They show a white flag"

The atmosphere and time itself had come to a hibernation state. His aqua eyes stared back at the violet eyes, wherever they maybe. It was as if... those eyes could see through him. Those eyes knew he wanted to give up, it was his own eyes trying to block that path. Just like that, he was seen through. At this point on his mind, he was completely surrounded on all sides. As if he regained his blurry vision, he looked straight at his opponent. His face was amazingly clear, he could see every detail from his clothes up to every strand of his light ashen hair. Blue eyes met purple and he opened his mouth slightly, whispering:

"*Jag överlämnande..."

With that, his eyes slowly fluttered shut. His upper body falls forward, head first, to the soft snow below him.

Russia stared at him for a moment, not sure what to do next. England for sure was busy, so all he could do was sit there. The temperature on his back suddenly drops and he turned around to see a ghost like figure behind him. The figure wore a tattered cape, a circular hat that had a short arrow pointing up on the middle, it had a mustache, and it was floating.

"General **Zima, you came." Russia said, recognizing the person easily.

Gen. Winter floated to the laying body and looked at it in silence, then looked at his comrade.

"Do you mind doing me a favor and take him to a hospital in Finland?" Russia said, and smiled at him, "because if I went there, I might be taken under suspicion, da?"

The ghostly figure nodded and picked the Swede up. He held him close to his chest and flew up, then towards Finland. Russia watched him go then turns around, walking and limping back to his home. Which was ridiculously a long way. Maybe he should of asked him to take him home first...

*Ja överlämnande - I surrender in Swedish

**Zima - Winter in Russian

-World War III begins

-Russia and Sweden at war

-England and Norway at war

-Russia wins

Allied Forces: 1

Nordic Five: 0

I didn't choose on who would win, I asked my fans on FB to see who should win. So... Yeah... Don't hate me ;w;