Just a little something I wrote last night. Hope it's alright ;u;
Their time together was drawing to a close.
And they both knew it.
And mostly, Norway blamed himself, and Sweden did too, because he had wanted his independece from the other so much, and eventually he had achieved it. Sometimes he didn't dare believe that at last he was to be free of Sweden, free of Denmark, be free of everyone, and stand on his own two feet as the Kingdom of Norway, Kongeriket Norge, a free man.
The prospect thrilled him, because suddenly the future seemed bright and exciting and ever so alluring.
And yet, this union with Sweden, which had lasted some 91 years, it was hard for him to think he would have to leave it.
Norway's history with Sweden was long, longer than he cared it to be. It was colourful; violent, brash, brilliant in its ferocity. But with that came the peace that Norway thought he could never find with another person; the quietness of Sweden's character complimented his own more than he cared to admit, and they got along well together. When, of course, there were no disagreements between them.
And so, the thought of having to leave Sweden behind saddened him.
Of course, it wasn't like they would never see each other again. Of course not, they were neighbours geographically, it wasn't like Norway was leaving in that respect.
But between them there had been a bond formed, something that neither had words to explain.
Norway was often tempted to blame it on the lack of Finland, and Sweden's need for something to fill that gap, but sometimes, he wasn't sure.
Sweden confused him.
And he was fairly certain he confused Sweden.
They were mysteries to each other, and because the both of them lacked a certain something in the social department, those mysteries would remian unsolved.
But maybe that was part of the appeal.
Everyone likes a good mystery.
As many nations in unions do, Sweden and Norway had been intimate on several occasions.
And that was fine. More than fine. Very good, Norway sometimes thought, when he'd get distracted midway through writing a letter and realise he'd gotten ink all over his hands. Very good indeed.
It didn't mean anything, though. A union was just business.
Of course.
The last day of their union had arrived, and the year 1905 was drawing to a close, slowly but surely.
Tension hung between them thickly, making it hard to breathe, making it harder to talk.
"So." Sweden started, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands dangling in the space between them. He stared at the floor. "You're free, tomorrow."
Free, as if Norway had been held there like a captive. Captured and owned, like spoils of war.
Norway supposed that was true, to an extent.
"Yes." He murmured, regarding Sweden with steady eyes. "I am."
"Did you hate this union so much?" Sweden's voice was soft, subdued.
Norway sighed, leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "We entered into it on less than favourable terms. And I know things have improved. Slightly." He wondered if the emphasis he had put on that word was unnecessary. "But I need to have independence, Sweden. I can't depend on you forever."
"I know that." Sweden replied. "But we could have worked at this. Made it better, not just for me but for you as well, and I-"
"No, Berwald." Norway interrupted, and the use of his real name caught Sweden's attention. "It wouldn't work. I'm sorry. But I want my freedom, I need my freedom. That's all there is to it."
Sweden sighed, and in that moment he seemed incredibly old, world weary. "That's all there is to it." He repeated, and he sounded as if he had accepted this fact, or was trying to. He stood up suddenly, and Norway watched him cross the room, and stop by the doorframe. "I'm going to bed." Sweden murmured, eyes still on the floor. He left the room without a word more, and it was only a few moments before Norway got up to follow him.
Sweden could hear his footsteps, and paused on the stairs, looking over his shoulder at the smaller man.
"It's our last night." Norway offered, as way of explanation. "Our last night together." His hand on the banister tightened. His knuckles went white. "And it...I..." He found he could say no more, and looked up at Sweden.
There was a glimmer of understanding in Sweden's eyes. He nodded, and continued up the stairs, Norway still following him.
The bedroom was dark, and the moon was full, bright, and hung low in the sky, casting shadows across the room.
It made their skin almost glow, as if by its own luminescence.
And when they came together at last, Sweden's arms around Norway and Norway's arms around Sweden, they both pondered the thought that this felt right, very right, and by the end their kisses were frantic, needy.
And when Norway was asleep in Sweden's arms, Sweden supposed it would be the last time he could hold him like this. After all, Norway would probably go back to Denmark. And eventually, in time, he himself might be able to go back to Finland.
It wasn't that bad, though. It wasn't like he and Norway loved each other.
No, it wasn't like that.
Not at all.
Reviews are greatly appreciated ;u;