"Oh, little bro. Wake up. It's time to have some fun."

Iceland's eyes squeezed shut, before they blinked open in confusion. His room was filled with light already, which was not unusual in a country so far north in the hemisphere, but what WAS unusual was the voice. It sounded like his brother, somewhat. At least, it was something he would say. It sounded a bit too feminine, and bit too foreign to actually be a native Norwegian.

"Lukas?" He questioned, sitting himself up and looking around his room, but there was no one present. Not Norway, not Denmark, not even his puffin. "This is not cool. I was in the middle of sleeping. It is no longer your job be to waking me up in the morning." He grumbled, hoisting himself out of bed and pulling on a sweater he had kept by his bedside. He walked over the mirror, flattening his silver hair, which was sticking up all over the place.

Then, he noticed something.

His sweater had a picture of Norway plastered to it.

He jumped back, ripping his shirt off quicker than you could say, 'Nordic', throwing it onto the ground. "Hvað í fjandanum?" He demanded, his face flushing as kicked it further away from him. On the floor, a dozen more photos of Norway were scattered on the wood tiles. And as he gazed around, he saw pictures of Norway everywhere.

On the ceiling.

On the walls.

Taped to his pillows.

Lukas's face was everywhere.

"This is a sick joke!" He called into the house, but there was no answer. "Lukas! This is not funny! This is actually being very creepy. Like, beyond what you usually do." He explained, making his way out of his room, only to discover that every inch of his hallway was covered with more pictures of his brother, each one a different example of just how straight-faced the northern country could be.

Despite the pictures, however, Iceland's house appeared empty. Which should have been impossible, considering the voice that woke him up. If it wasn't Norway, then it had been a girl, for sure. Or Finland. Finland had a rather feminine voice.

A few minutes later, he heard his front door open, and he ran into the living room. Walking through his front door, his violet eyes dull and his facial expression that of boredom, was his older brother Lukas.

"Hey, little bro." He looked around the house, his eyes unblinking as they momentarily hit every single one of the photos on Iceland's walls and ceiling. His lips pulled up in the slightest of smiles. "I always knew you admired me, Emil. This warms my heart, really."

"Shut up!" Iceland's face flushed red hot. "What are you even doing here?"

Norway pointed behind him with his thumbs. "Your friends in the masks said you needed to show me something. And I am not disappointed."

"What? What friends? I have no friends!" Iceland exclaimed, running to the door and looking out of it. Still in his small driveway was a bright red car that contained three masked individuals, each wearing black hoodies, which concealed their bodies and their hair. They waved farewell at the country, before the one in the driver's seat stepped on the gas, causing them to whip out on the road and speed away.

"I can appreciate their fashion sense. Here, they wanted you to have this." Norway stated, handing Emil a pristine piece of paper. Inside, perfect penmanship spelled out the following message:

Greetings, Iceland! Sorry to have waken you up when you were sleeping, but we couldn't wait to show you our handy work! Usually, we like to blackmail instead of prank, and we usually stay within our group of friends... But one of us had an idea, and this person happens to be a secret evil genius, so when we heard it, we literally couldn't help ourselves.

Love,
SASS

Translation:

- Icelandic: Hvað í fjandanum?
English: What the hell?

_______________
Okay, I can almost guarantee that that's a very rough translation. Icelandic is a very strange language, and I used Google Translate, and it might not be in the correct format and such.

But yeah.