Lukas Bondevik's head spun. He coughed, feeling his throat sear with raw pain as he choked up another splatter of blood. He was cold all over, but his forehead was burning. He could feel the frosted tips of his fingers and toes. His hair was drenched with sweat and cooling at an alarming rate. What happened? Shivering, he tried to bury himself under his worn, stringy blanket. It wasn't even large enough for all of his body to fit under.
Drawing in a short, raspy breath, Norway heard a soft "Su-saaann" from downstairs. Before long, heavy footsteps began to crescendo towards him, and instinctively he pretended to sleep. This was when Sweden normally brought him his meager meal of a slice of stale bread or something. The door cracked open. Lukas expected to hear a low, "L'tle m'dget's a'ways sleepin'." But it did not come.
"Nor? Nor?" A familiar voice said. "Nor, are you okay?" Norway shifted uncomfortably at the familiar voice, but his mind refused to make the connection. The motion towards the light nauseated him, and so he coughed again, releasing a splatter of blood.
"Oh my God." the voice said. "Berwald, what the fuck did you do to him? You know that I kill whoever hurts my belongings, right? You're lucky I didn't just slaughter you down there." There was a quiet growl from the Swede. The footsteps grew closer. Feeling blood running down his jaw, Lukas squeezed his eyes shut.
"Don't… hurt me," he begged. Using all his strength to form the words, he took a shallow breath. "P...please… don hurt… me…" The effort pushed up another mouthful of blood. Now Lukas felt the stranger's breath on his face. Then he felt firm, strong hands pick him up and hold him close. He felt the powerful voice ring against his cheek, but this time it no longer had the edge to it.
"Nor… you know I would never hurt you. I'm taking you home now, out of this place. Okay? Nor hang in there, please… You're still wearing the same clothes that you were captured in-" He snapped, "Couldn't you just give him a clean garment to wear, Sweden?" And then the stranger started moving, moving towards the door. Even though Luka's eyes were shut, he could imagine the stranger's eyes radiating energy.
As they exited the door, Norway felt cold, refreshing air fill his lungs. His confinement room was putrid with the stench of excrement, blood, sweat, and sickness. He seemed to fly through countless flights of stairs, hallways, and tunnels. How did this stranger know Sweden's castle so thoroughly?
"We'll be out of here soon, Nor."