( the wind is picking up. while denmark lacks the extreme weather of his neighbours, his lack of elevation and proximity to the sea makes for wet, cold weather, the kind that sinks past the skin and deep into the bones. denmark isn't usually prone to self-flagallation, or lingering outside on windy november evenings — but even he can reflect sometimes, and it's the five year anniversary of the bloodbath; of sweden turning away for good.
he's not subtle about it — that much is beyond denmark — spending much of the day in a sulk, peering out windows facing east, and skipping most of dinner. he ended up where he remains now: one of the battlements (ocean facing; east facing; sweden facing), leaning forward against the stone and frowning deeply. five years is nothing, but it's still five years. and he still doesn't understand. they were supposed to stay together. they're brothers. were brothers. if he could go over there right now, march across the sound, he'd take him by the shoulder and —
lost in thought as he is, denmark still hears footsteps approaching, too light to be one of the guards. he doesn't turn to face norway, instead slumping, forearms resting on the cold stone. )
[ There is never any mystery with Denmark. Once glance at him is all Norway needs; it would be obvious to someone who hadn't been living with him for over one hundred years. Norway is the one closest to understanding, though, and it doesn't take more than a look at the weather to know it's that time of year. The whole thing practically happened yesterday, but maybe this day is particularly long for Denmark.
He can ignore it, but what good is that? Sweden is his brother, too, and they had sometimes talked about leaving in meetings away from Denmark's ears. For Norway it had only been complaining, but it was Sweden and Denmark who pushed each other until everything broke apart.
His perspective is better, he thinks, than what Denmark's could be, so he seeks him out. ]
( he slumps farther, stymied by the question. castles are draughty things, but inside there's fires and warm drinks, and a large part of him really would prefer to be back in, out of the wind. but there's that small part…
after all — five years, it's an anniversary, it's a time for things to happen, and maybe…
but if you admit to a wish, it won't happen, so denmark turns at least his face away from the darkness to look over at norway. ) I'm keepin' the lookout. ( he says, thinking vaguely that norway will assume he means 'for enemy attack' or something. he knows nor is a sharp guy, but — well, there is no but. it doesn't occur to him to assume any transparency; nor is a great guy, but he's not the one denmark wants to see right now. (only to punch him in the face!) )
[ Norway's expression doesn't change, but he hardly seems to be convinced. He can't understand the way Denmark thinks; if he stares in Sweden's general direction enough, will that make it better? It's no secret that Denmark expects Sweden to come back: he's still there in their coat of arms, there's still a bedroom that hasn't been touched in five years. Things like that are what makes Norway sure he isn't coming back.
He ignores a strong gust of wind to stand next to Denmark and look out at the sea in the distance. ]
Can't see past the fishermen comin' in. Sure you ain't imagining things? [ Pretending is the word he doesn't use. ]
Hngh. ( he makes a grumpy noise, leaning very far over so that he can rest his chin on his crossed arms, his shoulders hunched. ) There ain't anythin' to see, more like. ( that bastard. that shitty bastard. it's been five years; why hasn't he come home yet? (he knows why.)
it makes him feel angry, still; of course it does. but the cut and sting is gone from it, and something like hurt has seeped into its place, memories of being very small and very alone. sve, we're supposed to stick together, we're family. i'll take it back if you do. he doesn't know how to change it, except as the king has begun to suggest, by force. if it works, that'll be great. but why has it been so long already?
he moves one of his hands enough to wipe at his nose, made runny by the cold and wind. )
[ Norway turns his back toward the view—it's not as beautiful as any sight at his house—and just looks inside. He isn't too cold, but the wind is bothersome. If he wants to get back in, he knows he'll have to get Denmark to come with him. ]
I'd hafta take care'a ya if you get sick. Gonna make it easy on me or should I bring out a blanket? [ Despite his wording, he isn't actually pushing. He doesn't mind if Denmark wants to stay outside, but he's making it clear that he's expecting to join him. ]
Aww, ya ain't gotta take care of me. ( he says, fondly at the very idea of it — he's the leader, he's the one who takes care of people! — but he's still distracted, still looking out into the dark.
where are you? to say he's stubborn is an understatement, to say he's painfully optimistic is an understatement — but to say that sweden isn't coming is something that even he has to admit. not tonight. (the weather — yeah, and a couple more years, with a twist and a pull in his gut. he shivers, still staring. just a couple more years, he tells himself firmly, and pulls himself back up and away from the stone, tucking his numb hands between his arms and his sides. )
[ He's obviously pretty irritated at the implication that he wants to take care of Denmark. It isn't that he wants to, it's that he has to. He can't sit back and watch Denmark get sick or sulk over Sweden. ]
You'll hafta make it yourself. I told everyone to leave. [ He doesn't like being in such a big house, and especially having people around to take care of it. It's why he still maintains his own house, and goes back and forth when the time calls for it.
Denmark doesn't have much of a choice to linger around either, since Norway is grabbing onto his sleeve to pull him inside. ]
( call it his german blood. actually, don't call it that, but denmark's always been a bit fond of the order that comes from routine, everything on time and where he can find it. it's tidier, and easy to take care of, so when it's six fifteen and iceland still hasn't come down for dinner, he gets a bit worried.
like, what if his economy suddenly collapsed? or maybe there was an eruption? the house is too quiet; denmark goes looking. in a fit of optimism and relief over the end of the war, he'd moved houses a few years ago, from his old fashioned 19th century manor to a new, modern house: small and tidy and in the centre of a neighbourhood filled with similar homes, with a little garden and few extraneous rooms; it's not a long hunt for his territory, the only one currently at home for dinner. (faeroes is at her house; who knows where greenland has gone off to. west indies is not, thankfully, america's problem.) he finds iceland in the sitting room, sprawled out across one of the sofas.
denmark's momentarily a bit annoyed. that's a really nice sofa, designer, and he's mentioned before that feet shouldn't go on it. also, it's dinner, and the herring is getting cold, and he made the dill sauce special. the irritation fades quickly. he doesn't usually see iceland like this, all relaxed and… sleeping. (he's not really one for poetics. young lookin', he does think, but that's silly because ice is young.) it seems almost a shame to wake him, but then again, not really, because it is dinnertime.
he bends over the arm of the couch and raps iceland, fairly gently, on the skull. ) Ice, you're twenty minutes late for dinner by now!
No... later. [ He's not really awake when he mumbles his response, most likely half-responding to something in a dream, instead of Denmark proper. He's always been a heavy sleeper, but that comes with the constant disasters and discomfort of living on a poor, backwater island. It's just easier to sleep through anything bothersome, from the wooden beds with thin mattresses to an earthquake that splits the land apart. You know, whatever. It doesn't matter when you're asleep.
However, in the last several years - since he became a sovereign state - Iceland's habits had changed. He never took naps when he was younger, but now when he feels sleeping in the late afternoon, or early morning, or whenever, he goes to sleep. It's like he's trying to break away from the schedule, like maybe he can do this own thing with these little extra freedoms.
Or maybe he's just growing up and hormones, even nation hormones, suck. There's not only been changes to his sleep schedule but he's starting to eat more and behave a little differently and overall go through all these inexplicable changes! Not that he's really noticed much... ]
--Go away.
[ He woke himself up a little more, just to say that. ]
Hm… ( denmark stays where he is, watching iceland for a moment. it's like nor; ice looks different, sleeping. relaxed. (not frowning at him.) lately he's starting to get a little bit tall, but he still has that kid-weediness about him; denmark's willing to bet he isn't about to have competition in the height department. it's a little interesting, to look at him like this — but only a little, because dinner is still on the table, so after about ten thoughtful seconds he flicks him on the forehead. )
[ His brow furrows, it's clear he's started the process of waking up now. He's not too pleased, and peers up - it's almost a glare - at Denmark. ]
I'm not hungry.
[ Maybe not right at this second, but in about another thirty minutes or so he could very well be a lean mean devouring machine. It wouldn't be surprising if Denmark would want to invest in pantry locks in the near future; Iceland had taken to sneaking around the kitchen at night to nick food he could eat at his leisure, instead of waiting for the allotted meal periods. He's a growing boy, he needs more than what is provided!! ]
The cat's too fat already, ( he says, and he manages to sound scornful — who keeps feeding it!? — as he does, except he's really the one who keeps slipping it pieces of bacon and cheese. he flicks iceland again, some of his good feelings starting to wear thin. ice needs to eat, and dinner is now. he doesn't understand why this is hard to understand. ) Dinner is right now, an' you're a member of this household an' gotta eat right now.
( the cold is starting to bite as summer slips to fall, and denmark hurries home. lately his whole body aches. his economy is in shatters, and the king calls on him every day, even sunday. there's a pull in his gut, a permanent tug, as his lands rearrange themselves and fall away.
it's only a matter of time.
it's another pull, one that makes him short of breath and frightened in a way that losing wars has never left him; the norwegians are resisting, the swedes are advancing, and he can do nothing at all. every day he loses more of his connection to norway. soon it'll be gone. and soon norway will…
he arrives home late. the house, too, has seen better days. maybe he'll sell it. he's had it for a long time. not bothering to take off his overcoat or boots, he climbs the creaking stairs, thoughts of norway, sweden, and the war twisting around in his brain. very soon, he keeps thinking. won't be long now. )
Nor? You around? ( he calls, not sure if he'll get an answer, with swedish troops still demanding an immediate surrender. norway must be as busy as he is lately. )
[ Norway has been busy, but he wishes he had more to do. There's only so much he can try, really, so many people he can talk to but are ultimately powerless. No one has a solution, especially not Denmark, just barely around and trying to repair everything that's broken.
It's too late for that this time, he thinks. He returned some time ago from a meeting with politically-minded citizens, still angry from starvation, paranoid, calling for independence. And it isn't a bad thing. It's been coming, surely, but Norway stopped thinking about it a long time ago.
Denmark is stupid and reckless and always getting into wars they can't handle—but four centuries is a long time, even for them. ]
In here. [ He returns, after a second, from his bedroom. He's sitting leaned against the window, watching the snow in hopes that it might give him an answer. He draws a line through the condensation his breath left on the glass. ]
( he follows the sound of norway's voice and stops in the doorway, taking in the sight in the dim of the room. the chair, the window, the warm flicker of the lamp… how many times has he seen this exact picture?
the union is breaking. he can feel it in his every bone. if it was a piece of paper he could deny it, but he can feel the lands itself slipping away. when was the last time he was without norway?
he enters the room loudly, closing the door behind him, filling the air and silence the only way he knows how. ) Whew! It's gettin' pretty cold! I thought my ears were gonna fall off on the way back. How long have you been home?
[ Norway turns half-way to look at him, at first to see if he has any news (no news is good news, probably), then to consider him. Denmark has never been difficult to read, now more than ever. He's tired and stressed, so Norway doesn't put much effort into small-talk. ]
Couple hours. You were out a while. [ It would be easy to blame Denmark for all of this, his people are, but it's bad for him too. There's too much to think about to be angry. ] Can't I do somethin'? [ Some work like they used to share, or maybe they can form a plan, anything instead of waiting around for Sweden to march in. ]
( he's happy. that norway would ask, offer just like that, it makes him happy just as it always has, they're together and they're — best friends. but it's strange, too, how his stomach clenches and twists; he has to fight the urge not to look away. )
Oh, uh — my boss says… ( and he looks guilty. my boss, not ours. they can't risk another attack, another battle; they'll sit back and let it happen, let norway get taken away without a word of objection. he'd argued with the king; it had made no difference. )
[ Norway notices the wording and it makes him look back out the window. He's his king too, right now, he has no one else except those who have started to step up as leaders. They've always been his bosses even though they've acted only as Danish kings, like the other kingdom in the name is just an afterthought.
So he's never been fond of them, it's no wonder that this one has given up on him. He nods without looking anywhere but outside. ] OK. [ Up to you. He knows exactly what that means. There's only one option he has now, if he isn't to walk off with Sweden and become a possession. ]
So it's—just like that? [ He turns around in the chair and finally stands up, finally faces Denmark. ] Ya know what that means, don't ya? You're an idiot, but ya didn't let him fool ya, right?
It's not… ( he says helplessly, uncertainly, not sure if he's being fooled or not. prussia at his borders, britain in the seas… him, weak and helpless, and norway, suddenly cold. he's not sure that he does know what it means, but he doesn't reflect on that; norway stands, and he reaches out for him, curling his hands around each shoulder; he doesn't understand, he doesn't want to understand, he wants things to go on like they always have. and yet he feels him leaving. )
I don't care what my boss says! Don't think for a second I do! ( is it that old, bitter possessiveness? an empire's wish to keep underlings close? that is what he wants and what it must be, now that he can feel norway leaving by inch and yard; a nation thing and not a human feeling, not a human desire to hold and keep. ) No matter what, you're my best friend, and I'm not gonna let anyone take you!
[ Norway's anger doesn't subside with the touch but he doesn't pull away, mostly because he isn't really sure what to do or what he feels. He's angry, he tries to focus it on Denmark but this is all he'll get, this unconvincing speech. But there's an underlying melancholy that he's been feeling since independence came up, back when the war was starting to go south.
He should go for it without hesitation, without bothering with Denmark like this. ] You think I'm gonna let you hand me over? [ He pushes at Denmark's shoulder without really trying to shove him away. ] I hafta leave. What your boss says doesn't mean anything if I have my own.
( he lets go when shoved, only to grab at norway's hand and catching more of his wrist, as if it were so easy to make nations stay. ) I'll get you your own! ( he argues, with no idea or plan as to how; he tugs at norway, not really hard enough to move him. ) I just said, I'm not gonna let anyone take ya, or give ya up!
[ He doesn't like the feeling of having his wrist captured, too overbearing when it's coming from Denmark, twists his arm just enough to press their palms together instead. ] One from ya? How's that any different? This is already the end, you. [ His scowl deepens but he holds tight on Denmark's hand. ] It's over.
( he knows that, feels it, and knows better than to deny it as well — but he still wants to. someone kinder might let go of the hand he's clenching; he grasps it more tightly still. ) Just for right now! ( he says strongly. ) If we have the same royal line, then in ten or twenty years we can have one of our princes inherit us both! Sweden can't do shit about that! ( it's worked in the past, hasn't it? sharing kings, inheritance laws? )
So don't talk like this is gonna happen forever! I won't let it!
[ It's instinct to tell Denmark that it won't work, can't possibly work for a variety of reasons. Most of all, shouldn't he fight for his independence? He would, if there were any chance. He's poor and weakened and Sweden is right next to him.
But maybe he can keep it up for twenty years, can keep Sweden away. With a Danish king, other countries might support him. ] Ya think? [ It's quiet because he really shouldn't let Denmark's outbursts affect him. ] Christian Frederik's still at my place.
You can have him! ( he says recklessly, because of course it isn't like he's talked to his boss about it; it isn't as though he's doing anything but saying whatever comes to mind to keep norway here, with him in this second — even his talk of the future is hypothetical. twenty years isn't too bad. even thirty. )
And we'll reunify again, and it'll be like it's been!
[ Even now, Denmark is amusing him, quelling his frustration. It isn't a great plan, but it's nice that Denmark is trying at all. ] No. Can't be.
[ His people are right when they talk about independence. He's been passive when Denmark controls everything, as everything of his becomes Danish. ] I'll be independent. I'll have a government. It'll be better.
( there's a blank couple of seconds, as if norway had spoken in dialect that denmark needed to translate, before he decides what it means and nods his head. ) That's better than Sweden… ( the idea of it, sweden winning in the end, taking what he couldn't take so long ago — yes, norwegian independence is a better option in that case. but now there's a third option.
he repeats himself, to clarify: ) And then once this has settled down, you'll come back to me.
[ His lips thin because he knows the way Denmark's head works, knows this hasn't really gotten through to him. Usually he wouldn't bother with it, but this is important, they have to agree. ] No. We'll be partners. The way it was supposed to be. [ He's never forgotten that promise in 1450, that they were always to be equals. ] Got it?
( he has a faint, confused smile — agreement, yes, of course, whatever you say, without a hint of understanding beneath it. ) We are partners. We're best friends.
( already. obviously. he notices he's still holding norway's hand and lets go, looking down into his eyes. that feeling again, the too-warm one, not anxiety but similar. he has an urge to touch his face and restrains. )
It ain't the same. [ Being partners and friends. He can tell Denmark is saying it in the way he always has, no meaning at all behind it. He watches their hands separate, distracted until he looks back up to find Denmark watching him closely. Without much of a thought, he takes a step closer, like this is how political agreements have to be held. ]
If it's like this again, Sweden will do the same thing. It's all 'cause I don't have a choice. Den— [ There's a small huff of frustration, but only with himself. He leans up, making sure their eyes meet. ] Nothin' will change with us.
But ain't that a good thing? ( again with that vague smile; yes, obviously, isn't that what we want? for none of this to have happened. the economy will pick back up, they'll get a nicer house in the country, twenty years isn't too long to wait. )
I don't want anything to change with us, so it's fine. ( he broadens his smile. ) You're thinkin' too much! I'll take care of you as always. ( give him a prince, argue with his boss — yes; he's reassured, this is all easy. norway will be his, because he'll can't stop that, can't halt his desire to own and control, but he can make it nice and he can vow — completely — that he'll take care of him, not crush him, take good care, isn't that the best solution? there's more to it, there's always been, but he's outgrown it, he won't do those things, because they're best friends.
now he does touch norway's face — carefully, his forefingers at that old hair clip, a clumsy gesture because he's not sure what he's doing. ) Won't that be the best?
[ They're still not talking about the same things, he realizes, stops leaning toward him. He's never quite found what it takes to get something into Denmark's brain. He shakes his head, not enough to separate from that hand on his cheek. It isn't something he minds right now, being touched like this, because it's warm and almost comforting. ]
I don't mean us, not the kingdoms of Denmark and Norway. I mean us. [ Not that he knows how to distinguish those two, as someone who was always against it. He's only ever made decisions for his people, for his kingdom, but he knows this is where the problem is. To make his point, he reaches for the hand on his cheek, presses his palm to the back of Denmark's hand. ] Us.
( he tries to understand, of course he does. "us." the people, not the countries. it sinks after a millisecond, and he leans forward, as though he's going to remove the remaining distance between them — and then pulls back again just as fast, realising what he's doing, pulls back further and gives a quiet, nervous laugh. )
It'll change if you're gone, ( he says in a voice that's meant to be light. how can things not change, if he's away? )
[ Norway's expression doesn't change for all of Denmark's indecision, watches him closely. None of this is difficult to understand, not for him, but it's sensitive. Denmark-Norway's position is set, immovable, but it's not the same for them. ]
Why? Ain't that far. Just right across. [ His eyes move in the direction of the sea, removes his hand from Denmark's to place it on his shoulder. ]
( he draws his hand away, too; holds it up for a moment like he isn't sure what to do with it, and lets it drop to his side. )
It's not here. ( doesn't norway know, how people change? look at sweden. he's only across the sound as well. his expression becomes ponderous; it's not good enough. people change when they leave. isn't this good enough? … ) Aren't you happy like this? ( he pauses, but not long enough for norway to answer. ) Because if ya ain't, tell me, and I'll change it for you for when you come back. You have to come back.
[ There's another huff this time, now actually frustrated with Denmark. But he can't understand it, this desperation to keep everyone with him, has no nostalgia for the Kalmar Union or Sweden in the least. ] You 'n me? [ As in, they're speaking personally. ] Ya never listen, you make promises ya won't keep, you're stupid 'n loud—but I'm used to it. It ain't you.
[ Now he's moving his hand to Denmark's cheek, patting it like he would a child's. ] I don't mind bein' with you. Even if everything else changes.
( i'll keep my promises, he's going to say; he knows he hasn't always been the best, but he's tried, hasn't he? and that's enough, isn't it? yes. he knows what nor is saying, he does, but that's not enough. if everything changes, then what's to stop norway? it's not enough to not mind, this is more than just best friends — )
I don't want you to go away! ( he says, grasping norway by the forearm as though to pull his hand away. ) I don't want you to leave if you won't come back!
[ Somehow, Norway is surprised by the outburst and the sudden grip on his arm. Usually Denmark is satisfied when he's given an inch, some vague bit of affection, but everything is different about this. He scowls in anger and twists his arm to pull away, his other hand shoving at Denmark's chest with a real intention to get him away. ]
Ya think I want this? To have Sweden comin' for me? The last time I had a choice in this was three hundred years ago 'n look where we're at. This ain't on me. All I want is a choice.
( he pulls back as if wounded, taking a step back and bracing his weight on that foot. and then he's forward again, choosing to take offence, choosing to feel rejected. )
And what are you going to chose? ( let me chose for you, he wants to say. he doesn't. he thinks it; he would have in the past. he does know that. ) To leave me? Ya talk about 'us' but that's what ya wanna do, isn't it? If you wanted that you wouldn't talk about needing a choice!
( it's mean, maybe, but he's not thinking like that; he's angry, now, turning norway's stubbornness back around; feeling him pull away with the breaking of the union, feeling sweden at his borders. helping him, visiting him, spending years at his side — hasn't he treated norway well? hasn't he done his best? why is it that people leave him? and nor, who he knows better than anyone and likes better than anyone — doesn't he get that? see how careful he's been, to listen and speak for him and not do anything, be too forward or too close, to treat him as a real best friend for all this time? why is he throwing it all away? )
I don't need a choice! ( he continues without a pause, and he pushes back forward, maybe trying to loom, overpower norway with his superior height and size; intimidate and get his way; he grasps him by the shoulders once more. ) I just wanna stay with ya, Nor!
[ The only way he knows how to respond to this is with equal anger, too unsure of what to do when Denmark isn't smiling and saying things will be fine. But this is what's been held back, this is what Denmark has never gotten past all these years since Sweden left. He knows that, knows the tight grip came from that moment, and Norway never bothered to correct him. ]
If people don't wanna stay with ya, ya can't force 'em. You did that with Sweden, ya know you did, ya hafta learn. [ Nothing about the advance bothers him, only makes him more defiant because he knows that Denmark won't do anything to him. ] You've always had the choice, idiot. [ He pushes at one of Denmark's hands, not bothering with the other one. ] But what makes you think I wanna leave? Have I ever tried? Have my people? [ A no, of course, even when Denmark made the worst decisions. ]
It shouldn't matter what I wanna do. If ya care so much, let me choose.
( but what if he choses something else? for all that he's reckless, thoughtless, he's not willing to leave these things to chance; not willing to take the risk of being alone. he did learn, didn't he? he listens, and he doesn't give orders as much — he's changed. and what if nor choses wrong? nor might change too, like sweden did.
but what can he do? even if he locked norway up — which he can't — sweden at the east, prussia to the south, britain in his seas. the union breaking by the day. by the minute. give him christian frederick, give him to sweden, trust him to come back? trust him not to change? )
[ Norway is ready to give up, to push Denmark away and walk out because he can't be stopped at this point. Denmark has no control over him anymore, not that he ever did on a personal level. Nothing can get through to him, what can be said anymore? ]
I ain't Sweden. Ya know that. [ It should be obvious by now. After four hundred years, it has to be obvious. But it's still not enough. ] Don't be so stupid. [ The hand that was pushing against Denmark's forearm is now idly gliding across it, like he's thinking hard. ] I love you. [ And his eyes lower just slightly, staring at Denmark's neck because he never thought it would come to this but it has. ]
( he doesn't initially react, as though what norway has said is beyond his comprehension.
years now, of feeling — best friends don't, they don't feel or act in those ways, he's not cautious but he's careful, he knows there are things not to be done; he's not willing to change things and have norway leave in result. best friends don't. but now norway's leaving — taken — no matter what; and anyone can say what they like but sweden is still the example he thinks of. someone else he loved. not like that — like this —
he doesn't know. he's very confused, all at once; best friends don't do that but norway just said, and more than anything he wants him here, wants him close, wants to have him, to own and posses and keep. it's all too much thinking, too much confusion; he takes in a breath and takes norway's face in hands on the exhale, pulls him close in one impulsive gesture; takes another breath in before kissing him square on the mouth. )
[ The silence leaves him irritable, a little tension coming from Denmark's lack of reaction. It isn't that he's nervous, exactly, but this confession has come through a lot of reflection and resistance. Could these feelings exist within or outside of their roles? Would they matter? There's no real answer, he's been too content with the union and Denmark's constant presence, hasn't had a reason to think about the end and now it's here.
It's a test, in a way. If Denmark has felt the same way, if they can exist without the union, without anything behind their actions. He exhales a small huff of breath like he's about to move on when Denmark grabs his face. He would have preferred a response, something to calm him instead of riling him up, but there's enough time for him to register what's going on, and he doesn't pull away.
There's only a couple seconds of pause before he's reaching up to grab the back of Denmark's head, fingers clutching his hair tightly, to pull him in for more control. It's better this way, he finds, actions instead of words; much easier to convey his thoughts when his teeth worry Denmark's lower lip, when he pulls back just slightly but doesn't let him go. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ any time period ]
𝟏𝟓𝟐𝟖.
he's not subtle about it — that much is beyond denmark — spending much of the day in a sulk, peering out windows facing east, and skipping most of dinner. he ended up where he remains now: one of the battlements (ocean facing; east facing; sweden facing), leaning forward against the stone and frowning deeply. five years is nothing, but it's still five years. and he still doesn't understand. they were supposed to stay together. they're brothers. were brothers. if he could go over there right now, march across the sound, he'd take him by the shoulder and —
lost in thought as he is, denmark still hears footsteps approaching, too light to be one of the guards. he doesn't turn to face norway, instead slumping, forearms resting on the cold stone. )
Noor, it's cold, ( he whines, halfheartedly. )
this is so pretentious my computer can't read it
He can ignore it, but what good is that? Sweden is his brother, too, and they had sometimes talked about leaving in meetings away from Denmark's ears. For Norway it had only been complaining, but it was Sweden and Denmark who pushed each other until everything broke apart.
His perspective is better, he thinks, than what Denmark's could be, so he seeks him out. ]
That why you're standin' against the wind?
s h r u g s
after all — five years, it's an anniversary, it's a time for things to happen, and maybe…
but if you admit to a wish, it won't happen, so denmark turns at least his face away from the darkness to look over at norway. ) I'm keepin' the lookout. ( he says, thinking vaguely that norway will assume he means 'for enemy attack' or something. he knows nor is a sharp guy, but — well, there is no but. it doesn't occur to him to assume any transparency; nor is a great guy, but he's not the one denmark wants to see right now. (only to punch him in the face!) )
no subject
He ignores a strong gust of wind to stand next to Denmark and look out at the sea in the distance. ]
Can't see past the fishermen comin' in. Sure you ain't imagining things? [ Pretending is the word he doesn't use. ]
no subject
it makes him feel angry, still; of course it does. but the cut and sting is gone from it, and something like hurt has seeped into its place, memories of being very small and very alone. sve, we're supposed to stick together, we're family. i'll take it back if you do. he doesn't know how to change it, except as the king has begun to suggest, by force. if it works, that'll be great. but why has it been so long already?
he moves one of his hands enough to wipe at his nose, made runny by the cold and wind. )
What're ya doin' out here, Nor?
no subject
I'd hafta take care'a ya if you get sick. Gonna make it easy on me or should I bring out a blanket? [ Despite his wording, he isn't actually pushing. He doesn't mind if Denmark wants to stay outside, but he's making it clear that he's expecting to join him. ]
no subject
where are you? to say he's stubborn is an understatement, to say he's painfully optimistic is an understatement — but to say that sweden isn't coming is something that even he has to admit. not tonight. (the weather — yeah, and a couple more years, with a twist and a pull in his gut. he shivers, still staring. just a couple more years, he tells himself firmly, and pulls himself back up and away from the stone, tucking his numb hands between his arms and his sides. )
Guess I could use somethin' warm to drink.
no subject
You'll hafta make it yourself. I told everyone to leave. [ He doesn't like being in such a big house, and especially having people around to take care of it. It's why he still maintains his own house, and goes back and forth when the time calls for it.
Denmark doesn't have much of a choice to linger around either, since Norway is grabbing onto his sleeve to pull him inside. ]
no subject
𝟏𝟗𝟐𝟔.
like, what if his economy suddenly collapsed? or maybe there was an eruption? the house is too quiet; denmark goes looking. in a fit of optimism and relief over the end of the war, he'd moved houses a few years ago, from his old fashioned 19th century manor to a new, modern house: small and tidy and in the centre of a neighbourhood filled with similar homes, with a little garden and few extraneous rooms; it's not a long hunt for his territory, the only one currently at home for dinner. (faeroes is at her house; who knows where greenland has gone off to. west indies is not, thankfully, america's problem.) he finds iceland in the sitting room, sprawled out across one of the sofas.
denmark's momentarily a bit annoyed. that's a really nice sofa, designer, and he's mentioned before that feet shouldn't go on it. also, it's dinner, and the herring is getting cold, and he made the dill sauce special. the irritation fades quickly. he doesn't usually see iceland like this, all relaxed and… sleeping. (he's not really one for poetics. young lookin', he does think, but that's silly because ice is young.) it seems almost a shame to wake him, but then again, not really, because it is dinnertime.
he bends over the arm of the couch and raps iceland, fairly gently, on the skull. ) Ice, you're twenty minutes late for dinner by now!
no subject
However, in the last several years - since he became a sovereign state - Iceland's habits had changed. He never took naps when he was younger, but now when he feels sleeping in the late afternoon, or early morning, or whenever, he goes to sleep. It's like he's trying to break away from the schedule, like maybe he can do this own thing with these little extra freedoms.
Or maybe he's just growing up and hormones, even nation hormones, suck. There's not only been changes to his sleep schedule but he's starting to eat more and behave a little differently and overall go through all these inexplicable changes! Not that he's really noticed much... ]
--Go away.
[ He woke himself up a little more, just to say that. ]
no subject
It's dinner time.
no subject
I'm not hungry.
[ Maybe not right at this second, but in about another thirty minutes or so he could very well be a lean mean devouring machine. It wouldn't be surprising if Denmark would want to invest in pantry locks in the near future; Iceland had taken to sneaking around the kitchen at night to nick food he could eat at his leisure, instead of waiting for the allotted meal periods. He's a growing boy, he needs more than what is provided!! ]
Give my plate to the cat, or something.
no subject
no subject
no subject
it's only a matter of time.
it's another pull, one that makes him short of breath and frightened in a way that losing wars has never left him; the norwegians are resisting, the swedes are advancing, and he can do nothing at all. every day he loses more of his connection to norway. soon it'll be gone. and soon norway will…
he arrives home late. the house, too, has seen better days. maybe he'll sell it. he's had it for a long time. not bothering to take off his overcoat or boots, he climbs the creaking stairs, thoughts of norway, sweden, and the war twisting around in his brain. very soon, he keeps thinking. won't be long now. )
Nor? You around? ( he calls, not sure if he'll get an answer, with swedish troops still demanding an immediate surrender. norway must be as busy as he is lately. )
no subject
It's too late for that this time, he thinks. He returned some time ago from a meeting with politically-minded citizens, still angry from starvation, paranoid, calling for independence. And it isn't a bad thing. It's been coming, surely, but Norway stopped thinking about it a long time ago.
Denmark is stupid and reckless and always getting into wars they can't handle—but four centuries is a long time, even for them. ]
In here. [ He returns, after a second, from his bedroom. He's sitting leaned against the window, watching the snow in hopes that it might give him an answer. He draws a line through the condensation his breath left on the glass. ]
no subject
the union is breaking. he can feel it in his every bone. if it was a piece of paper he could deny it, but he can feel the lands itself slipping away. when was the last time he was without norway?
he enters the room loudly, closing the door behind him, filling the air and silence the only way he knows how. ) Whew! It's gettin' pretty cold! I thought my ears were gonna fall off on the way back. How long have you been home?
no subject
Couple hours. You were out a while. [ It would be easy to blame Denmark for all of this, his people are, but it's bad for him too. There's too much to think about to be angry. ] Can't I do somethin'? [ Some work like they used to share, or maybe they can form a plan, anything instead of waiting around for Sweden to march in. ]
no subject
Oh, uh — my boss says… ( and he looks guilty. my boss, not ours. they can't risk another attack, another battle; they'll sit back and let it happen, let norway get taken away without a word of objection. he'd argued with the king; it had made no difference. )
It's up to you, now, Nor!
no subject
So he's never been fond of them, it's no wonder that this one has given up on him. He nods without looking anywhere but outside. ] OK. [ Up to you. He knows exactly what that means. There's only one option he has now, if he isn't to walk off with Sweden and become a possession. ]
So it's—just like that? [ He turns around in the chair and finally stands up, finally faces Denmark. ] Ya know what that means, don't ya? You're an idiot, but ya didn't let him fool ya, right?
no subject
I don't care what my boss says! Don't think for a second I do! ( is it that old, bitter possessiveness? an empire's wish to keep underlings close? that is what he wants and what it must be, now that he can feel norway leaving by inch and yard; a nation thing and not a human feeling, not a human desire to hold and keep. ) No matter what, you're my best friend, and I'm not gonna let anyone take you!
no subject
He should go for it without hesitation, without bothering with Denmark like this. ] You think I'm gonna let you hand me over? [ He pushes at Denmark's shoulder without really trying to shove him away. ] I hafta leave. What your boss says doesn't mean anything if I have my own.
no subject
no subject
no subject
So don't talk like this is gonna happen forever! I won't let it!
no subject
But maybe he can keep it up for twenty years, can keep Sweden away. With a Danish king, other countries might support him. ] Ya think? [ It's quiet because he really shouldn't let Denmark's outbursts affect him. ] Christian Frederik's still at my place.
no subject
And we'll reunify again, and it'll be like it's been!
no subject
[ His people are right when they talk about independence. He's been passive when Denmark controls everything, as everything of his becomes Danish. ] I'll be independent. I'll have a government. It'll be better.
no subject
he repeats himself, to clarify: ) And then once this has settled down, you'll come back to me.
no subject
no subject
( already. obviously. he notices he's still holding norway's hand and lets go, looking down into his eyes. that feeling again, the too-warm one, not anxiety but similar. he has an urge to touch his face and restrains. )
no subject
If it's like this again, Sweden will do the same thing. It's all 'cause I don't have a choice. Den— [ There's a small huff of frustration, but only with himself. He leans up, making sure their eyes meet. ] Nothin' will change with us.
no subject
I don't want anything to change with us, so it's fine. ( he broadens his smile. ) You're thinkin' too much! I'll take care of you as always. ( give him a prince, argue with his boss — yes; he's reassured, this is all easy. norway will be his, because he'll can't stop that, can't halt his desire to own and control, but he can make it nice and he can vow — completely — that he'll take care of him, not crush him, take good care, isn't that the best solution? there's more to it, there's always been, but he's outgrown it, he won't do those things, because they're best friends.
now he does touch norway's face — carefully, his forefingers at that old hair clip, a clumsy gesture because he's not sure what he's doing. ) Won't that be the best?
no subject
I don't mean us, not the kingdoms of Denmark and Norway. I mean us. [ Not that he knows how to distinguish those two, as someone who was always against it. He's only ever made decisions for his people, for his kingdom, but he knows this is where the problem is. To make his point, he reaches for the hand on his cheek, presses his palm to the back of Denmark's hand. ] Us.
no subject
It'll change if you're gone, ( he says in a voice that's meant to be light. how can things not change, if he's away? )
no subject
Why? Ain't that far. Just right across. [ His eyes move in the direction of the sea, removes his hand from Denmark's to place it on his shoulder. ]
no subject
It's not here. ( doesn't norway know, how people change? look at sweden. he's only across the sound as well. his expression becomes ponderous; it's not good enough. people change when they leave. isn't this good enough? … ) Aren't you happy like this? ( he pauses, but not long enough for norway to answer. ) Because if ya ain't, tell me, and I'll change it for you for when you come back. You have to come back.
no subject
[ Now he's moving his hand to Denmark's cheek, patting it like he would a child's. ] I don't mind bein' with you. Even if everything else changes.
no subject
I don't want you to go away! ( he says, grasping norway by the forearm as though to pull his hand away. ) I don't want you to leave if you won't come back!
no subject
Ya think I want this? To have Sweden comin' for me? The last time I had a choice in this was three hundred years ago 'n look where we're at. This ain't on me. All I want is a choice.
no subject
And what are you going to chose? ( let me chose for you, he wants to say. he doesn't. he thinks it; he would have in the past. he does know that. ) To leave me? Ya talk about 'us' but that's what ya wanna do, isn't it? If you wanted that you wouldn't talk about needing a choice!
( it's mean, maybe, but he's not thinking like that; he's angry, now, turning norway's stubbornness back around; feeling him pull away with the breaking of the union, feeling sweden at his borders. helping him, visiting him, spending years at his side — hasn't he treated norway well? hasn't he done his best? why is it that people leave him? and nor, who he knows better than anyone and likes better than anyone — doesn't he get that? see how careful he's been, to listen and speak for him and not do anything, be too forward or too close, to treat him as a real best friend for all this time? why is he throwing it all away? )
I don't need a choice! ( he continues without a pause, and he pushes back forward, maybe trying to loom, overpower norway with his superior height and size; intimidate and get his way; he grasps him by the shoulders once more. ) I just wanna stay with ya, Nor!
no subject
If people don't wanna stay with ya, ya can't force 'em. You did that with Sweden, ya know you did, ya hafta learn. [ Nothing about the advance bothers him, only makes him more defiant because he knows that Denmark won't do anything to him. ] You've always had the choice, idiot. [ He pushes at one of Denmark's hands, not bothering with the other one. ] But what makes you think I wanna leave? Have I ever tried? Have my people? [ A no, of course, even when Denmark made the worst decisions. ]
It shouldn't matter what I wanna do. If ya care so much, let me choose.
no subject
but what can he do? even if he locked norway up — which he can't — sweden at the east, prussia to the south, britain in his seas. the union breaking by the day. by the minute. give him christian frederick, give him to sweden, trust him to come back? trust him not to change?
)
It matters.
no subject
I ain't Sweden. Ya know that. [ It should be obvious by now. After four hundred years, it has to be obvious. But it's still not enough. ] Don't be so stupid. [ The hand that was pushing against Denmark's forearm is now idly gliding across it, like he's thinking hard. ] I love you. [ And his eyes lower just slightly, staring at Denmark's neck because he never thought it would come to this but it has. ]
i have recovered from the gay tsunami
years now, of feeling — best friends don't, they don't feel or act in those ways, he's not cautious but he's careful, he knows there are things not to be done; he's not willing to change things and have norway leave in result. best friends don't. but now norway's leaving — taken — no matter what; and anyone can say what they like but sweden is still the example he thinks of. someone else he loved. not like that — like this —
he doesn't know. he's very confused, all at once; best friends don't do that but norway just said, and more than anything he wants him here, wants him close, wants to have him, to own and posses and keep. it's all too much thinking, too much confusion; he takes in a breath and takes norway's face in hands on the exhale, pulls him close in one impulsive gesture; takes another breath in before kissing him square on the mouth. )
with gayer icons wow
It's a test, in a way. If Denmark has felt the same way, if they can exist without the union, without anything behind their actions. He exhales a small huff of breath like he's about to move on when Denmark grabs his face. He would have preferred a response, something to calm him instead of riling him up, but there's enough time for him to register what's going on, and he doesn't pull away.
There's only a couple seconds of pause before he's reaching up to grab the back of Denmark's head, fingers clutching his hair tightly, to pull him in for more control. It's better this way, he finds, actions instead of words; much easier to convey his thoughts when his teeth worry Denmark's lower lip, when he pulls back just slightly but doesn't let him go. ]