Norway curled in on himself just a bit. Blood covered almost every millimeter of the Scandinavian Nation, not all of the blood his own. However, a wound on his head, multiple on his back, and a gash all along his side contributed to the deep red pools staining his clothes, hair, and face. The ground itself was glistening crimson, blood hanging off the grass in a similar fashion to dew, the moonlight making the thick liquid shine in a strange way. The air was heavy with the smell of iron; everything the blood touched was clotting together. Norway looked down at his hands, shaking slightly as he felt more blood exit his body.
What had he done?
He did what Denmark had always told him specifically not to do. He started to take on more than he could handle safely, beginning with one extra, then another, then another, and another until he'd been far outnumbered.
Even for a nation.
The bodies of his opponents laid around him. They were either dead or dying, their blood creating small creeks that trailed in the tiny valleys of the ground.
Had he really done this much damage?
Norway drew in shaking breath after shaking, rattling breath. The noise of the battle continued to ring in the air, the yelling and clanging of metal heavily hanging in the atmosphere. He yearned to join in again, but knew this was most likely going to be his last battle. The thought saddened the Norwegian, but he reminded himself that he would go to Valhalla and live on, continue fighting for his Gods. Norway closed his expressionless eyes, letting out a slow breath in a sighing fashion. He listened to the battle noises, not allowing them to drown out. Denmark's voice spoke to him in his memories.
"You're strong Nor. And you're good with swords. Use your strength wisely, and you could be a dangerous man. That's why it's a good thing we're allies, right?"
The words hadn't been spoken that long ago, but at the moment, the words echoed in his head as if they had recently been spoken. Norway almost smiled as he heard the satisfying clang of swords meeting, but there was something that was wrong with the sounds of combat. The battle cries that should have followed had an additional voice.
The extra voice wasn't yelling a battle cry. Norway bit his lip. What a shame... A warrior had broken off from the fight, obviously calling to a fallen comrade.
Pitiful.
There was snapping of twigs and old, dry leaves nearby, along with the sound of heavy panting. Without opening his eyes, Norway let his body go completely limp and pretended to be among the dead, assuming immediately that the approaching man was an enemy. The crashing noise came closer, and he could hear a soft "no..." being muttered over and over as the footsteps neared. Norway lessened the muscles in his body even more than he had before, holding his breath. A frantic hand grabbed his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. The Norwegian kept his limp stature, seeing as if the man was an enemy, he'd be dead in less than a second. Considering, of course, that he didn't die from blood loss first.
"N... Nor?" The man said, and Norway felt a small drop of wetness fall onto his face.
Blood?
"Norway... No... You can't... You can't be dead." The man said, and Norway slowly opened his eyes.
"D-Denmark?" Lukas whispered, seeing the vague shape of Denmark's hulking form over him.
"Norge..." Denmark said exasperatedly, the relief flooding from him. "You're not dead... Oh thank the gods, you're not dead..." The Dane choked out, tears flowing from his eyes. The tears dropped onto Norway's face, but the Norwegian had insufficient energy to wipe them off. They worked down his cheek, creating a path that showed where they had been.
"I'm about to be," Norway said, coughing as he did so. Blood had most likely been coughed up, seeing as Norway could feel it dripping off his chin and another thin trail going from the corner of his mouth to his jawbone. Norway cringed, closing his eyes.
"Not if I can help it." The Dane stated, and Norway felt Denmark's hand, of which was shaking slightly, brushing the blood off of his face. The same hand went behind his neck, lifting his torso off the ground. After a slow and painful process for the Norwegian, the Dane eventually had the Norwegian in his arms, cradling him like a child against his chest. Denmark stood up and began walking towards their base camp. Norway wanted to protest, but every time he tried to say something it would drop to a murmur. The Norwegian hesitantly closed his eyes after awhile, resting his head against the Dane's chest, listening to Denmark's steady, yet thrumming heartbeat.
When Denmark stopped, he set Norway down cautiously at the base of a tree, between two of the roots.
"Are you okay?" The Danish man asked, pulling out a small hunting knife. Norway met Denmark's eyes.
"'Ve been better." Norway muttered. Denmark smiled just a bit, but the smile quickly faded. Denmark dropped his gaze to the tears here and there in Norway's shirt.
"I can vouch that." Denmark responded, sliding the knife into one of the holes and cutting off the bloodstained fabric. "Yeesh... They got really deep... How was this possible? You're one of the best..." Denmark trailed off, his eyes growing as realization hit him. Denmark scowled as he continued to cut fabric away from Norway's wounds. "You got cocky." His voice was serious and portrayed annoyance.
If the circumstances weren't so bad, Norway would have laughed a bit at the irony.
For once, Norway had been the idiot and gotten himself hurt, while Denmark scolded him and set to tending to the wounds.
It was comedic, in the Norwegian's way of looking at things.
However, Norway hung his head a bit. "Yeah. I took them all out, but they got some pretty good blows in before they lost." He admitted.
Denmark didn't respond, and avoided the Norwegian's eyes. Norway could tell he was ticked off, and he understood the reason why. Denmark continued clearing off all the wounds in silence. Norway tried to remain as still as possible while Denmark worked.
"There..." Denmark muttered more to himself than to Norway as he finished with the last wound. "I don't get it, Nor. I told you specifically not to take on more than you could handle. Something like this is expected from me, but not you." His eyes were darkened just a bit, from what Norway could not tell. "Why? What were you trying to prove?" The question made Norway's heart feel like it was pounding itself out of his chest.
What had he been thinking?
What had possessed him into taking on so many extra men?
"I... I wanted to prove I was strong." Norway answered after a long moment of silence. Denmark sent a confused glance towards Norway before the Norwegian continued. "I wanted to prove that I could stand on my own, that you were my ally, not my defender." Norway whispered, another trail of blood escaping his mouth. Denmark's gaze softened just a bit.
"That was no reason to get hurt, Norgie." The Dane scolded, throwing out his nickname for the other nation almost casually. "That would have been a stupid thing to die for. Still might, if we don't get you better help than me," he continued with a weak smile. "I wouldn't be able to stand it if you died, Nor," Denmark finished, sending Norway a small, but warm smile. Norway only blinked in response for a while, wanting to smile but finding himself incapable.
"How do you do it?" Norway eventually asked. Denmark furrowed his eyebrows.
"How do I do what?" He responded. Norway looked away, slightly embarrassed by the question all of a sudden.
"How do you... smile? Even in the worst of times, you manage to keep a happy face. Yet, it's been so long since I last smiled... I think I forgot how." Norway said, looking at his hands in a shameful way. Denmark reached out and put his hand on Norway's shoulder.
"I remember all the good things of life. All the happy, good memories I have. But..." He trailed off, and Norway looked up to see Denmark's light blue eyes meeting his dark blue, almost violet eyes.
"Most of all I think of you, and I can't help but smile." Denmark gave Norway a full smile, and the corners of Norway's mouth urged to go upwards and smile. Norway couldn't bring himself to do it, though.
"Why? Why does a thought of me make you smile?" Norway asked, wondering how it was possible, considering how many times he'd beaten up Denmark with the mace, or yelled at him, or how he constantly teased the Dane by reminding him just how annoying the Norwegian found him. Denmark's smile turned both rueful and sad.
"Because... Well... Jeg elsker dig, Nor. Always have, always will." Norway's head tilted to the side ever so slightly, and as realization hit him, his eyes grew just a bit, but only so that they were fully open.
"Jeg... Jeg elsker deg også." He said, his hand reaching out for the Dane, but was not able to move his limb far from his own body. Denmark took it in his other hand, making Norway's hand feel small and encased in the Dane's. Denmark grinned, laughing a bit.
"That's how I know you've lost a lot of blood, Norgie. You start talking crazy." Denmark said, his eyes brimming with sadness. It was a new sight for Norway to see, Denmark's eyes, usually so bright and happy brimming with such a painful agony. Norway reached his other hand out with determination, and was able to make a bit of contact with Denmark's shoulder, even though his arm was weak and heavy.
"I'm not talking crazy, Den. Really. I do." Norway said, and his face finally remembered how to smile. It was a sad, painful smile, but it was a smile. "I just figure that if I'm going to die, you ought to know." Denmark's eyes lost the sadness in them, but Norway couldn't identify the emotion that was shown in them. Denmark moved his free hand from Norway's shoulder to his hair, running his hand through the Norwegian's light blonde locks. Norway didn't fight against it, having lost too much blood to pull away even if he wanted to.
Denmark leaned in, and pressed a gentle kiss to Norway's forehead. Norway looked up at Denmark's chin, reaching his hand up to cup behind Denmark's jawbone, near his ear. When Denmark pulled back, just slightly, Norway pulled himself toward Denmark and Denmark towards himself. Norway closed his eyes as he met the other nation's mouth with his own, pressing gently. Denmark, stunned, took awhile to process what was going on. When his mind reached the conclusion, he returned the pressure, gentle but passionate. There they remained for awhile, brushing their noses against each other's as their lips and tongues met again and again. Denmark broke the contact, resting his forehead against the Norwegian's. Denmark wiped a string of saliva off of Norway's mouth before wiping off his own.
"We need to get you a doctor." Denmark said, and after a few seconds of silence and Norway nodded slowly. Denmark stood, taking off his cloak and draping it over Norway. "I'll be right back." The Dane promised, leaving Norway alone. Norway pulled the cloak tighter to him, wondering. Pondering.
Why had it taken him so long to realize it?
Why had it been then, of all times, to realize?
What had stopped him from seeing it before?
Why, why did it have to be now?
As Norway's thoughts were racing, he shut his eyes and lifted the cloak over his mouth and nose, inhaling the familiar scent of the Dane. He let his body relax, and tried to stop the thoughts and focus on resting. He heard footsteps, the falling weight breaking twigs, branches, and piles of dried up leaves. Norway looked up, expecting to see Denmark, but instead, Sweden emerged. Norway scowled, pulling himself toward the trunk of the tree and away from the Swede.
"What do you want?" Norway tried to yell, but his voice was strained and hoarse. Sweden's hand went for the hilt of his sword, loosening it from its scabbard a bit so that the glint of metal would be caught by Norway. Norway pulled in on himself, knowing his own sword had been left behind and adjusted the cloak so the fabric was in both of his hands. Sweden fully unsheathed his sword, walking towards Norway slowly.
"I don't want to do this, but my king's orders are that you either come peacefully, or I'm to kill you." He said, stopping the length of an average man's height away from the Norwegian. Norway's lip curled.
"Why would I go with you?" Norway asked with a disgusted tone as he tilted his head downward toward the ground but refrained from taking his eyes off the Swede. Sweden avoided Norway's eyes by looking at the hilt of his own sword as he fully unsheathed it.
"Because then we'd leave the others alone." He stated, "We wouldn't hurt them, and we wouldn't even hurt you." He said, intimidating as ever as his piercing light blue eyes met the Norwegian's. Norway glared at Sweden.
"Who is this 'we' and who is classified as 'them'?" Norway asked. Sweden gave Norway a look that made the Norwegian feel as if he should have known the answer from the beginning. Sweden twirled the sword between his fingers before answering.
"Finland and I are the 'we', while Iceland and Denmark are the 'them'." He stated, and Norway's blood —well, what was left of it—ran cold. "Choose. Are you going to come quietly, or will we have to use force?" Sweden demanded, pointing the tip of the sword at Norway's head. Norway met his eyes with a hatred he didn't know he'd even had.
"If you take me away from Den and Ice, I will not go with you. Not without a fight." Norway growled, swallowing the cough that would have followed the statement. Sweden sighed.
"Then you leave me no choice. I truly am sorry Norway, but these are my orders." He said before pulling the sword back and lunging. Norway closed his eyes and turned his head away, but the blow he was expecting never came.
Norway opened his eyes and looked up to see Denmark, arms outstretched, standing in a defensive way in front of Norway, clear that he had thrown himself between Norway and the blade. Sweden's sword cut into Denmark's shoulder, most likely scratching the bone, considering how deep the gash was. Norway gaped, seeing as that was all he could do, and a few tears welled up in his eyes. Norway quickly shook his head, clearing the wetness from his eyes before anyone noticed. Denmark's blood was dripping off of the Dane and onto Norway, pooling on the Norwegian's arm until it ran down his arm, leaving a crimson trail behind it.
"Nor… G-go..." Denmark said through gritted teeth. Norway was too petrified to move. Sweden twisted the sword as he pulled it out of Denmark's shoulder, and the Danish nation let out a muffled scream, but remained in front of Norway. Sweat ran down the Danish's face as he gritted his teeth and shook from both pain and determination. Sweden shook his head pityingly, his eyes glinting with light cast from the blade of the sword.
"You'll never learn, will you?" The Swede said before sinking the sword into Denmark's side, avoiding vital organs, but making the blow so strong that it went directly through the Dane. With wide eyes, the Norwegian looked at the sword that had Denmark's blood trickling down weapon to the point, of which was inches away from grazing Norway's head through the hole it had punched through Denmark. When Sweden pulled the sword out of Denmark, Denmark collapsed on his side, swearing in Danish as he gripped his side and let out small grunts of agony. Sweden was wiping off the sword with a corner of his shirt.
"'M sorry... Nor..." Denmark mumbled in between pants, reaching a blood covered, scarred and beaten hand out to Norway. Norway reached out as well, but could not reach the Dane's outstretched limb.
"Nei. I'm the one that's sorry." Norway whispered, his voice barely able to be heard as he doubled himself over and stretched himself toward Denmark. The Norwegian could feel his wounds reopening as he reached further and further. The Dane reached as well, but just as their fingers brushed Norway felt himself being picked up by the stomach and hauled over Sweden's shoulder. Norway cried out both out of resistance and pain and struggled against him.
"I'll see you again... Someday..." Denmark cried out as reached his arm out to Norway. A second later the Dane's eyes slid shut as he lost consciousness. Norway yelled and began thrashing in Sweden's grasp. The Norwegian beat Sweden with all the strength he had left. Adding up how much blood Norway had lost earlier on and the blood he was still losing, he was close to dying. Still, he fought.
"Let... let me go... Let me help him... Sve, let… let me go..." Norway choked out, tears falling from the tip of his nose down onto the ground. "Please." Norway mumbled, his muscles weakening and going limp. Sweden never responded, only took more steps forward. Eventually, Norway lost all his energy and relented the struggling, falling into a state of which he was not asleep, but not entirely awake either.
Norway didn't know how long Sweden had been carrying him, but when Sweden stopped, he didn't put Norway down. Norway let himself hang, not caring what happened to him anymore. He merely heard more footsteps coming towards him, and a voice–Finland's? –calling out to Sweden.
"Su-san, are you alright? There's blood all over you. Oh! You found him?" Finland exclaimed, Norway knowing by the sound of Finland's footsteps that the Finn was coming closer. Sweden nodded, shifting so Norway hung in a more comfortable position over his shoulder. Finland shrieked. "He's bleeding so much! What did you do to him?" Finland asked, reaching out to Norway and touching his arm gently, sending accusatory glances Sweden's way every other second.
"I didn't do anything to him. He was like this when I found him. He needs medical attention." Sweden somewhat grunted. "Here, take him to the doctor. I'll alert my King." Sweden said, passing Norway to Finland. Finland took the injured nation tenderly and carried him to a tent that was slightly dirty and patched. Inside, a doctor laid on a low bed made of blankets piled on top of each other. The doctor started yelling in frantic Finnish and snapped into a sitting position as he saw the state Norway was in. Finland responded, setting Norway down carefully on an extra, more comfortable bed left for patients.
A few days later, when Norway was stitched up and rested, Sweden entered. Norway glared at him with emotionless eyes. It would be better if the Swede didn't see what the Norwegian was feeling.
"What is it?" Norway asked, his tone similar to that of a growl. Sweden tucked his head down.
"You're going to be living with me from now on. You'll be allowed to do what you want, but my government will run your country and you'll report to my King." Sweden stated. "You and the Dane have lost the war." He finished, looking at the ground. Norway kept his face emotionless.
"Denmark... Is he okay?" Norway asked softly. Sweden started, but kept the same emotion.
"I don't know," was all the Swede said in response, his light blue eyes unblinking. Norway looked away and refused to meet Sweden's gaze.
"Fine. I'll accept your King's conditions. However, if at any point you attempt to take over the way I run my country I will retaliate." The Norwegian started, "I'm not in any condition to deny, however." He added ruefully. Sweden nodded solemnly.
"Something I didn't mention... You won't be allowed to go back to Denmark or Iceland. I'm sorry, Norway. These are my King's orders. You might as well get used to following his orders as well." Norway remained silent, not responding. Sweden sighed, closing his eyes as he hung his head. "I really am sorry, Nor." Sweden said after awhile and left Norway to rest.
The next ninety-one years went by with Norway under Sweden's rule. Norway kept Denmark's cloak for a long time and wore it until it was falling apart from the seams and torn in many places. He then took the cloak and fashioned pieces of it into all of his clothes, on the underside so no one would notice. Norway had also trained himself to remain quite emotionless at all times, and any life his eyes had ever had was lost, most likely forever.
It wasn't until he gained his freedom from Sweden that Norway ever saw his other relatives. When he did see Ice again, Iceland was almost completely grown up. Norway had changed so dramatically in the time he had been gone that Iceland barely recognized him. It killed Norway to know he had missed out on so much of his little brother's life. But there was one thing that troubled Norway the most and snagged his thoughts deep into the long, sleepless nights.
He didn't know if Denmark had survived the blood loss until he saw him after he gained independence from Sweden.
Denmark constantly was trying to get close to Norway, hugging, pinching, just touching in general, but Norway would push him away every time.
Norway couldn't help but feel that if Denmark came too close to him again, the wars would start all over.
So even though it pained Norway and he knew it pained Denmark as well, Norway didn't allow himself to get as close to the Dane as he'd been that night, the night when he was taken away from him.
For he feared that if such a relationship existed again, not only would history repeat itself, but that he would lose the Dane forever.