The Face as Cold as Stone {APH}

Norway's face never changes.
It's just there, emotionless, uncaring, unfeeling - like Norway has shut himself off from the world, and he no longer cares. Denmark is determined to find out why.

Hetalia fanfic, eventual DenNor.
Hetalia does not belong to me.


12. Chapter Twelve

Sorry there wasn't an author's note at the end of the last one... What do you guys think about a Nordic fantasy AU? The Nordics as a band of bad-ass criminals in a fantasy world, maybe? Yay or nay? Because I think Finny would be just so very very cool as an assassin. A jolly, adorable assassin.

Human names? I'm thinking maybe not... But do you even want me to write it? :O

And who enjoyed Norge's birthday? XD

Thanks to Sean Sieczka, Louise McBear and Lucy1234 for favouriting!!!!!!!!! XD




Denmark threw himself into the car as Norway started up the engine, slamming his foot down on the pedal.

"He'll be all right, Norge. Don't worry," Denmark muttered, not quite sure if he was trying to reassure himself or the Norwegian.

"I'm not worrying," Norway snapped back. Of course, Denmark thought sarcastically. His friend's hands were white as they gripped the wheel, his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and his teeth gritted together.

They sped up into the mountains, taking the road that was as close to Iceland's route home as possible.

"He can't have gotten far," Norway muttered, scanning the surroundings for signs of trouble. They raced into the mountains, with Denmark anxiously looking out of the window, then back to Norway. This was possibly the closest he'd ever got to emotion. Eyes narrowed. Jaw clenched. Fists white.

Denmark hated it.

Of course, he was more worried about Ice: anything could have happened, even if a nation couldn't be killed unless their country dissolved - Prussia being the exception. But he was also concerned for Norway. The Norwegian was never like this. Was he freaking out inside his head? Was he terrified? Denmark didn't know, but he was certain of one thing: he wanted Norge to smile, not worry.

A faint trail of smoke was visible a distance to their left, and Denmark pointed frantically.

"There!" he said. Norway slammed his foot on the brakes, jolting them both forwards as the car screeched to a halt.

Before Denmark could so much as give him his coat, Norway was out of the car and running towards the smoke, dashing through the valley and scrambling over any rough land. Quickly leaving the car, Denmark grabbed the two coats and chased after his friend.



He was crazy.

Denmark hadn't yet caught up, and Norway had been running for at least forty minutes. Wondering if the Norwegian even realised it would take them at least an hour to reach Ice, Denmark kept running

They probably should have called the police. Or the air rescue, or somebody who'd be able to help.

Then again, this was a secluded area, and the two nations would probably get there first, anyway.

Panting, Denmark finally managed to catch up with Norway, who's face was set in a determined frown.

Determination and worry in one day.

Was this seriously Norway?

"Have a coat," Denmark managed breathlessly, his legs almost collapsing beneath him as he struggled to keep up. Norway muttered a thanks under his breath, taking the coat and slinging it over his shoulders. He was trembling, Denmark realised, probably both from exhaustion and the cold.

"You've been running for ages!" Denmark pointed out, still gasping.

Without slowing, Norway gave a sharp nod.

"So? Ice is out there."

He tried to disguise it, but there was a faint undertone of fatigue to his voice. Instantly, Denmark wanted to comfort him, had he the breath to do so.

Norway stumbled, and Denmark grabbed his arm to steady him.


And there it was again. 'Thanks'. How could Norway be using that word twice? Twice in one day? Norway never said that, never expressed anything, and yet here he was, expressing emotion and thanking him!

They finally reached the plane, and Norway charged towards it, dashing through the open door and calling his brother's name. Denmark followed, and they scouted the plane for people.


Just a faint trail of blood leading outside.

They left the smoky interior, and Norway darted over to a natural shelter provided by a rocky outcrop. Beneath were Ice's two pilots.

But no sign of the nation himself.

"Where is he?" Norway demanded. One had a bloodied leg, the other just looked bruised and shaken.

"Went that way," the injured pilot said weakly, pointing deeper into the mountains. Cursing, Denmark gestured impatiently for him to go on.

"We managed a quick radio message when we realised the systems were down, but that was it. Iceland went off to find help for him," the other pilot added, nodding to his injured friend.

"So help will be here for you soon?" Norway asked, and the pair nodded. "Then tell them I've gone to find Iceland," he ordered, already turning to leave. Denmark grabbed his wrist.

"Norge, it's dangerous out there! We can just wait for help, right? You might get hurt!"

The pilots, sworn to secrecy about the identities of the nations, looked helplessly between the two as Norway pulled free and started running. Denmark could already see his eyes narrowing with the effort - his friend was still exhausted from running earlier.

"I'm coming with you," Denmark said, shooting a quick apologetic look to the two pilots before chasing after his friend.

Norway turned his head, tilting it slightly as he regarded his friend.

"I thought you said it was dangerous."

"And that's why I'm coming," Denmark replied, locking eyes with his friend for just a moment.

Norway nodded, turned his gaze back to the valleys ahead, and picked up the pace again.

The pilots were left to stare as the two nations disappeared from view.




Sorry updates have been slow. :/ I've been writing something else as well...

Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...