[Hetalia Fanfic] Fill the void [Chapter 2]
Title: Fill the Void
Character(s) or Pairing(s): [Begins very Nordic-Centric before becoming Iceland-Centric] Icelend, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, & Peter [England, France, America & Canada as very minor characters] DenNor, SuFin, NorIce
Rating: T
Names: I use human names. There's a little guide every time for what I use for Denmark, Norway, and Iceland.
Chapter Specific Warning: Character Death, use of Headcannon [check under the name guide]
Summary: The curtain rises on what should have been a happy family get-together.
Human Names:
Denmark = Mathias
Norway = Sigurd
Iceland = Jokull
Headcannon in this chapter:
[Don't worry, this is not going to be much of it other than this idea.]
-A country persona can die and come back to life as a result of injury or non-terminal disease provided the body is mostly in tact. If the body is blown to bits, it can not be revived. If the heart, brain, lungs or head is removed, the body can be revived provided that the organs are retuned to the body before decomposition begins. Detached limbs cannot be regrown, but they can be re-attached during death and they will heal back to normal-though any limbs besides the previously mentioned can be missing from the body and it still can be revived.
Should the body - for what ever reason - be unable to revive itself either due to obileration or missing parts leading to decomposition - the country will die as a human and the country's spirit will form into a new being with all the country-related memories of its previous form - but none of the personal human-like ones. [Ie, Sealand no longer knowing that Finland and Sweden were his 'adoptive parents'.]
If the body is set on fire or drowned while alive, it will constantly revive itself and repair the damaged skin/ cause repeated suffocation neither of which end in death. If either is done after death takes place then the body can be creamated or drowned and permantantly destroyed.
He had been cooking dinner when the phone rang.
“Berwald, could you get that for me? It’s probably Arthur asking for directions so he can drop off Peter. Remember, he’s driving up from Copenhagen this time, not the airport.”
The phone kept ringing as shuffling could be heard coming from the living room followed by a loud crash, a frustrated grunt, and yelling on Mathias’ part.
“I believe Berwald may be a little preoccupied at the moment, Tino,” came Sigurd’s response.
Tino couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel, “Just make sure they don’t break any furniture this time.” The phone continued to ring.
“All right already! I’m coming, I’m coming!” he said as he picked up the phone, “Hello, this is the Oxenstierna residence; Tino Väinämöinen speaking.”
“Oh God, Tino, I’m so sorry. We tried to stop him, we really did. I’m so sorry, oh God I’m so sorry.”
Tino frowned in concentration trying to place the voice. When he recognized that it belonged to Matthew Williams, he felt hit his blood run cold.
“Matthew? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Tino slowly began to walk towards the living room.
“He, he was just too strong! Francis grabbed me and ran while Alfred tried to fend him off. And Arthur… ohhh…” There was a thud and some static. Tino had made it to the living room by now.
“Did you burn the food again?” Mathias whined before receiving a well aimed slap from Sigurd. Tino remained standing in the entrance of the hallway, knuckles white from his grip on the phone. Finally, there was a break in the static. A new voice carried over the phone.
“Tino?” It was Francis this time-his voice weighted and serious. Tino leaned against the wall, fearing whatever news the Frenchman had for him.
“Y-yes?”
“We tried our best, I swear we did.”
Tino felt his blood run cold, “No…”
“I’m so sorry. Your son is-”
Tino felt his legs give out as the floor suddenly rushed up to meet him.
“T’no!” Berwald rushed over to his husband’s side. Tino’s eyes were wide and scared, and he was getting paler and paler. He lifted Tino into his arms as Mathias and Sigurd ran over as well.
“What happened Tino? Who was on the phone?” Matthias yelled. Tino began to shake, “P-Peter…how…?”
Sigurd picked up the abandoned phone and held it to his ear.
“Hello? Tino? Hello?”
“Francis?”
“Sigurd? Is that you?”
“Yes. What has happened Francis?”
“Peter is-“ a loud crash cut him off mid sentence.
“Francis? Francis! What is going on?”
The line clicked dead.
Sigurd pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a time before he ended the call. With a shaky hand he set it on a nearby bookshelf before returning his attention to the more immediate problem: the weeping man in Berwald’s arms. He knelt beside Mathias on the floor who took his hand. Sigurd looked at Mathias for answers, but received none. The other was more focused on the problem at hand to offer him any.
“Come on Tino. Please! You’ve gotta tell us what happened or we can’t help!”
But Tino continued to wail, seemingly oblivious to his friends.
“Not Peter… my son, my little boy… why? Why him? ….Why sweet, sweet little Peter...?”
Mathias lets out a frustrated groan. He turned to Sigurd, “Well, we know something has happened to Peter, he just won’t tell us what.” While Mathias continued to voice his frustration, Sigurd watched the scene playing out before him.
Berwald carefully lifted Tino up and carried him over to the couch. Never letting go, he sat himself down and rested Tino in his lap. Sigurd elbowed Mathias to shut him up before cautiously joining the two on the adjacent couch. They watched silently as Berwald gently caressed his partner’s face to calm him. To their surprise it worked, and soon Tino was reduced to sniffles and hic-ups. It was then that Berwald turned those reddened eyes up to meet his.
His expression turned unreadable as held the other’s gaze. Seconds ticked by and Berwald never blinked searching, desperately searching, for something in those blood-shot eyes. Sigurd saw a flash of understanding pass through icy blue, and then watched as it melted away into grief. Sweden wrapped his arms around his husband and held him tightly, enough to crush the air from Tino’s lungs.
“Our son… ‘s dead.”
Tino’s wails resumed, drowning out Sigurd’s gasp and Mathias’ outcry.
“Who would want Peter to experience death!? I mean, it was just Peter that died right? Not Sealand, right? So heal just heal back up and everything will be okay, right?”
Sigurd never saw Tino move. All he knew was one minute, he was sobbing, the next he was clawing and beating at Mathias, screaming at the top of his lungs in a complete fit of rage.
“-and what? I shouldn’t care because he’ll just come back? That he’ll just heal back up again because he’s half country and I shouldn’t worry myself over it!? Is that it!? Is it!? You’ve died before! I know you have, I’ve slain you on the battle field! I myself have been slain! So I know. I know how dark lonely and horrifying it is to be trapped alone in the sheer empty heartless void that is death. I have been there so many times, and it is never less horrifying!
And what of Peter? He does not know war or death! He does not know plague or famine! He doesn’t even know that he comes back when he dies! He’s there. In that empty uncaring void wishing his Papa or Mama could come and save him! He doesn’t know that he just needs to wait. He doesn’t know that his Mama and Papa are waiting for him. Waiting to hug him and love him again,” Tino began to cry once more and the blows to the Dane lessened with every word.
“He thinks he’s going to be alone forever in that void. He doesn’t know Berwald and I are waiting for him. He doesn’t know that Papa and Mama are waiting for him to wake up. He thinks he’s all alone.”
Tino collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap sobbing.
“You aren’t alone Peter. We’re waiting for you right here. Mama and Papa are waiting for you. And Uncle Mathias and Uncle Sigurd and Uncle Jokull. We’re all here waiting Peter. You aren’t alone…you aren’t alone…we’re all waiting for you…”
For the next hour, all that could be heard from the Fin were heart-wrenching promises of reassurance to his dead son.
Character(s) or Pairing(s): [Begins very Nordic-Centric before becoming Iceland-Centric] Icelend, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, & Peter [England, France, America & Canada as very minor characters] DenNor, SuFin, NorIce
Rating: T
Names: I use human names. There's a little guide every time for what I use for Denmark, Norway, and Iceland.
Chapter Specific Warning: Character Death, use of Headcannon [check under the name guide]
Summary: The curtain rises on what should have been a happy family get-together.
Human Names:
Denmark = Mathias
Norway = Sigurd
Iceland = Jokull
Headcannon in this chapter:
[Don't worry, this is not going to be much of it other than this idea.]
-A country persona can die and come back to life as a result of injury or non-terminal disease provided the body is mostly in tact. If the body is blown to bits, it can not be revived. If the heart, brain, lungs or head is removed, the body can be revived provided that the organs are retuned to the body before decomposition begins. Detached limbs cannot be regrown, but they can be re-attached during death and they will heal back to normal-though any limbs besides the previously mentioned can be missing from the body and it still can be revived.
Should the body - for what ever reason - be unable to revive itself either due to obileration or missing parts leading to decomposition - the country will die as a human and the country's spirit will form into a new being with all the country-related memories of its previous form - but none of the personal human-like ones. [Ie, Sealand no longer knowing that Finland and Sweden were his 'adoptive parents'.]
If the body is set on fire or drowned while alive, it will constantly revive itself and repair the damaged skin/ cause repeated suffocation neither of which end in death. If either is done after death takes place then the body can be creamated or drowned and permantantly destroyed.
He had been cooking dinner when the phone rang.
“Berwald, could you get that for me? It’s probably Arthur asking for directions so he can drop off Peter. Remember, he’s driving up from Copenhagen this time, not the airport.”
The phone kept ringing as shuffling could be heard coming from the living room followed by a loud crash, a frustrated grunt, and yelling on Mathias’ part.
“I believe Berwald may be a little preoccupied at the moment, Tino,” came Sigurd’s response.
Tino couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as he wiped his hands on a nearby dish towel, “Just make sure they don’t break any furniture this time.” The phone continued to ring.
“All right already! I’m coming, I’m coming!” he said as he picked up the phone, “Hello, this is the Oxenstierna residence; Tino Väinämöinen speaking.”
“Oh God, Tino, I’m so sorry. We tried to stop him, we really did. I’m so sorry, oh God I’m so sorry.”
Tino frowned in concentration trying to place the voice. When he recognized that it belonged to Matthew Williams, he felt hit his blood run cold.
“Matthew? What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Tino slowly began to walk towards the living room.
“He, he was just too strong! Francis grabbed me and ran while Alfred tried to fend him off. And Arthur… ohhh…” There was a thud and some static. Tino had made it to the living room by now.
“Did you burn the food again?” Mathias whined before receiving a well aimed slap from Sigurd. Tino remained standing in the entrance of the hallway, knuckles white from his grip on the phone. Finally, there was a break in the static. A new voice carried over the phone.
“Tino?” It was Francis this time-his voice weighted and serious. Tino leaned against the wall, fearing whatever news the Frenchman had for him.
“Y-yes?”
“We tried our best, I swear we did.”
Tino felt his blood run cold, “No…”
“I’m so sorry. Your son is-”
Tino felt his legs give out as the floor suddenly rushed up to meet him.
“T’no!” Berwald rushed over to his husband’s side. Tino’s eyes were wide and scared, and he was getting paler and paler. He lifted Tino into his arms as Mathias and Sigurd ran over as well.
“What happened Tino? Who was on the phone?” Matthias yelled. Tino began to shake, “P-Peter…how…?”
Sigurd picked up the abandoned phone and held it to his ear.
“Hello? Tino? Hello?”
“Francis?”
“Sigurd? Is that you?”
“Yes. What has happened Francis?”
“Peter is-“ a loud crash cut him off mid sentence.
“Francis? Francis! What is going on?”
The line clicked dead.
Sigurd pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a time before he ended the call. With a shaky hand he set it on a nearby bookshelf before returning his attention to the more immediate problem: the weeping man in Berwald’s arms. He knelt beside Mathias on the floor who took his hand. Sigurd looked at Mathias for answers, but received none. The other was more focused on the problem at hand to offer him any.
“Come on Tino. Please! You’ve gotta tell us what happened or we can’t help!”
But Tino continued to wail, seemingly oblivious to his friends.
“Not Peter… my son, my little boy… why? Why him? ….Why sweet, sweet little Peter...?”
Mathias lets out a frustrated groan. He turned to Sigurd, “Well, we know something has happened to Peter, he just won’t tell us what.” While Mathias continued to voice his frustration, Sigurd watched the scene playing out before him.
Berwald carefully lifted Tino up and carried him over to the couch. Never letting go, he sat himself down and rested Tino in his lap. Sigurd elbowed Mathias to shut him up before cautiously joining the two on the adjacent couch. They watched silently as Berwald gently caressed his partner’s face to calm him. To their surprise it worked, and soon Tino was reduced to sniffles and hic-ups. It was then that Berwald turned those reddened eyes up to meet his.
His expression turned unreadable as held the other’s gaze. Seconds ticked by and Berwald never blinked searching, desperately searching, for something in those blood-shot eyes. Sigurd saw a flash of understanding pass through icy blue, and then watched as it melted away into grief. Sweden wrapped his arms around his husband and held him tightly, enough to crush the air from Tino’s lungs.
“Our son… ‘s dead.”
Tino’s wails resumed, drowning out Sigurd’s gasp and Mathias’ outcry.
“Who would want Peter to experience death!? I mean, it was just Peter that died right? Not Sealand, right? So heal just heal back up and everything will be okay, right?”
Sigurd never saw Tino move. All he knew was one minute, he was sobbing, the next he was clawing and beating at Mathias, screaming at the top of his lungs in a complete fit of rage.
“-and what? I shouldn’t care because he’ll just come back? That he’ll just heal back up again because he’s half country and I shouldn’t worry myself over it!? Is that it!? Is it!? You’ve died before! I know you have, I’ve slain you on the battle field! I myself have been slain! So I know. I know how dark lonely and horrifying it is to be trapped alone in the sheer empty heartless void that is death. I have been there so many times, and it is never less horrifying!
And what of Peter? He does not know war or death! He does not know plague or famine! He doesn’t even know that he comes back when he dies! He’s there. In that empty uncaring void wishing his Papa or Mama could come and save him! He doesn’t know that he just needs to wait. He doesn’t know that his Mama and Papa are waiting for him. Waiting to hug him and love him again,” Tino began to cry once more and the blows to the Dane lessened with every word.
“He thinks he’s going to be alone forever in that void. He doesn’t know Berwald and I are waiting for him. He doesn’t know that Papa and Mama are waiting for him to wake up. He thinks he’s all alone.”
Tino collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap sobbing.
“You aren’t alone Peter. We’re waiting for you right here. Mama and Papa are waiting for you. And Uncle Mathias and Uncle Sigurd and Uncle Jokull. We’re all here waiting Peter. You aren’t alone…you aren’t alone…we’re all waiting for you…”
For the next hour, all that could be heard from the Fin were heart-wrenching promises of reassurance to his dead son.