He looked down at his clearly exposed ribs. He touched his cold, clammy skin and felt the deep bags under his eyes. His shoulder blades stuck out like a sore thumb and his stomache looked as though everything that existed inside of him had been vacuumed out. His skin was paler then normal, his body constantly shaking and his eyes never unlocking out of their shocked gaze. The whip marks and lacerations were deep while the bruised were swollen outwards. His silver hair clung to his boney face, refusing to instead just hang there. He knew pain and sickness like the back of his hand, yet somehow, he could never get used to it, nor he ever should.

Iceland sat on the edge of Denmark's bed, his bare, pale skin showing even whiter from the moon's reflection through the window. His whole body trembled and screamed. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, his bright violet orbs seeming somewhat dull. Denmark sat up and moved to sit beside Iceland, that trademark grin never erasing itself from his face.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Denmark chirped happily. Denmark didn't expect an answer from Iceland as he hadn't talked in what seemed like a century. The bed sheets were damp and reeked with body odour. His axe lay on the floorboards, not to far from the bed. The bed creaked with every move made, suggesting that it was an old bed.

For a long time since Iceland had fallen under Denmark's power, he had been starved, beaten, raped, verbally assulted and teased. To put it simply, Iceland had been tortured by the man his 'brother' saw as an ally, a friend, a lover. Iceland wasn't scared of Denmark. Oh no, infact he actually enjoyed Denmark's company. He was there for Iceland when Norway couldn't be and they would have their moments together. Iceland was just scared of the actions Denmark was making, but he just let it happen as he felt bad for Denmark. Iceland knew the hurt and pain Denmark had to live with everyday. The hurt of being betrayed. The pain of being seperated from your lover. Iceland often worried for the Dane. Even though Denmark wasn't like his brother who hid his emotions behind his ever stoic expression. Denmark was worse. He covered his emotions with happiness which impacted harder on his emotional well-being as he felt the need to act happy all the time. Iceland wanted to say something. He wanted to do something. He wanted to be useful so he let Denmark take out all his emotions on him. Norway had told Denmark to take care of Iceland, but in truth, Denmark was the one who needed taking care of.

Iceland slowly turned his head to look at the Dane before burying his head in his chest.

"Im here for you..." The small Icelander whispered.