It was evening. All in the house was quiet.
A bit ago, Denmark offered to venture to the woods to collect some more wood for the fireplace in the living room. It had been a cold, spring day and they had been running low on the wood necessary for survival in the harsh Danish nights. Though during the day it would be warm, the nights were often rough and unforgiving.
He made his way through the forest, carefully seeking out the perfect trees and branches to bring home for the fire. He smiled as he came along another one, halting his sled and dropping the rope tied to it to the ground as he raised his axe.
"Perfect…" He muttered to himself as he raised the axe behind himself, bringing it down on the sapling. Once, twice, thrice as the tree fell to its death, resting on the ground with a thud. He held onto the plantlet steadily as he brought his axe to the air again, striking down on it a few times in various places, cutting them up small enough to place onto the sled.
He lifted each piece, placing it gently onto the sled; it was old and had seen better days, though it still worked perfectly fine. In Mathias' opinion, that was enough to keep using it no matter what anyone else stated. Besides, he liked it. It was crafted finely, lots of details and embellishments crafted onto the sides and bottom. It had strong metal braces too. And if it hadn't broken by then, it still had a few decades left on it.
He tied a rope firmly around the sled, holding the wood bundle safely and sturdily. There. That should be enough, right? Plenty to last through the night and well into the next day's night too. In the morning he'd go and get more, enough to last for a long while.
He stood straight, smiling as he rested his hands on his hips in a satisfied manner. He picked up the rope that held onto the sled and turned, heading back to the house.
Meanwhile at the house, Norway watched longingly out of the kitchen window for only a few moments longer before springing to action. He walked to his room, not bothering to turn on the lights as he threw open his closet. He reached in and pulled out an already prepared bag, filled with things he may need for later. Earlier, he suggested to Mathias that as the Dane went and got lumber he would stay at home and cook supper for the two of them.
He tossed the bag onto his bed and reached to his coat rack, pulling his heavy winter cloak from the stand, tying it around his neck. It may not have been winter, but he needed as much protection from the cold night as possible.
He turned to his desk, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out a letter. He folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope. He picked up a pen and scribbled a few things onto the cover. Denmark, May 1814.
He turned on his heel, grabbing his bag and taking the letter downstairs with him. He walked to the kitchen and shoved a few food items into his bag; he would need them for the long journey ahead of him. His journey to return home.
He returned to the living room and walked to the back door, stopping to hold up the envelope. He looked down at it, frowning. Inside, the note contained all of his feelings. All of his desires. He took a deep breath and let go of it slowly, he then placed a gentle kiss to the word Denmark and placed the note on a nearby table. A place that Denmark would spot it as soon as he came home.
He took another deep breath and stared at the door. This time he'd finally do it. He'd become independent. And without the help of the Swede this time.
He reached his hand out, about to grab the door as it suddenly flew open, outwards and into the night.
No, he wasn't supposed to come back so early. He wasn't supposed to be back yet. It's too soon! How could he have gotten enough wood for the week already?
Lukas stared at the door, rather wide-eyed, his hand still reaching out to grasp onto the doorknob. He swallowed roughly as his eyes lifted to meet the Dane's.
"Oh! Norge! I didn't expect you to be there!" Denmark smiled, his head tiling to the side a little as he let out a small chuckle. He rested a hand on the Norwegian's shoulder. He opened his eyes wide. "C'mon, take off that cloak. I'm fine. No need to go searching for… What's with the bag?"
Norway turned his head to look at the bag on his back as Denmark pushed through the doorway a bit, closing the door behind him. "What? Did you think we'd be stuck out there for a few days?" Denmark laughed, looking to the side. He spotted the letter.
"Oh? What's that?" He asked. He used his free hand to reach and take the envelope, looking at the front. "It's for me. And it's your handwriting. What? Did you write me something in case I got back first?"
He let go of Lukas and opened the letter, reading it aloud.
"Mathias, this letter is to inform you that I will no longer be referring to you as such."
Lukas' heart sank with each word. Looking away from Denmark, he closed his eyes, holding a long breath.
"As of tonight, I will be leaving…" Mathias' face sunk as he read the next few words. "I won't… Be… Returning…" He looked back to Norway, his eyebrows turned down. "Norge… What is this...?"
Norway dared to take a look at the Danish man, a terrible mistake. Mathias' face was contorted into the most saddened, most depressed face one could ever muster. His eyebrows were upturned, creating a wrinkle between his brows. He bit his lip firmly, turning his skin tremendously pale around his teeth. And his eyes.
They were the worst part.
His eyes were filled with sorrow; they seemed to be filling with tears the longer Lukas made the Danish man wait for an answer. He never cried though. No matter how terrible things were for him. Norway knew the male was well at showing his emotions. Though he usually showed anger or happiness, he also had his bought of sadness occasionally.
And though he did, it was never this terrible. Mathias would usually just sit and mope for a few minutes, and then quickly changed to anger, or back to his usual happiness. He was never this miserable.
"Norge… I'm talking to you. I asked what this was… Answer me." Denmark looked away, his expression now unreadable. He held up the note, pressing it closer to the Norwegian's face.
Lukas stayed silent. He never meant for the letter to be found before he had a chance to leave. He looked to the door. It was still open. He could run, could flee. Now, while he still had the chance. Though the Dane was faster. And he was also a tad stronger.
Lukas took his chances, staying put. It was childish to run. It was immature, and he needed to face the Dane if he ever wanted his independence. Running wouldn't prove anything. If anything, it would just make him look like a scared adolescent. And that's /not/ what Lukas wanted to be seen as.
He was an adult of over seven thousand years of age, and dammit, he deserved to be treated like one! But that also required him to act as an adult. And right now, that's what was important. It was a test, that's all. Right now he needed to test his bravery, to test his strength, against the strongest enemy he could ever face.
No, it's not Denmark that he was worried about. He could, with much trouble, defend himself. And maybe he could wring in a few allies. No, that wasn't his main enemy.
What he was truly scared of, was his heart.
But the pain in his chest, the shattering of his heart, meant nothing to him compared for the want he harnessed for independence. He wanted to finally have a land of his own. He wanted to be free.
"Answer me!" Mathias pulled Lukas from his daze suddenly, with his booming voice, along with the grabbing of the front of the cloak, dragging the Norwegian closer to him.
Denmark was angry, Norway could tell. The Dane's face was now settled into a glare, his eyebrows turning as if on a dime, his teeth knitted into a grit. The tears that were once in his eyes started to stream down his face, creating stains on his cheeks, down to his chin where they dripped onto his heavy jacket.
Norway tried not to let it bother him. He kept his face as blank as he could, mustering up as much courage as possible to tell Mathias what he truly felt. "It's a letter." He stated blankly. "I'm leaving, Denmark. I'm leaving to be on my own. It's been enough yea-"
"No!" The Dane yelled. He pulled the Norwegian from the floor, closer to his face. Lukas could barely touch the ground anymore, even with his large winter boots covering his feet. "You can't go! I won't let you!" He yelled, his gaze digging a hole into the Norwegian's. "Take it back!" He begged.
Lukas shook his head. "No, Denmark. I'm not taking it back. I won't."
Without a second's notice Mathias' hand collided with Lukas' cheek in a slap, the sound echoing throughout the household. "I said, take it back! You have five seconds to take every word back!" He warned. "Five… Four… Three…" His glared went deeper, malice showing in his eyes as he raised his hand again, ready to slap him again.
Lukas' eyes widened, his hand instinctively moving to his cheek. Sure, Mathias had anger issues, and he had been violent in the past, but he had never taken it out on Norway. He was always kind to the Norwegian, never laying a hurtful hand on him, even when angered. Now was different though. Lukas had no idea exactly how much Mathias was hurt by the simple letter.
In fact, /athias had never been more hurt in his life.
"No. Denmark, what don't you understand? I'm not taking it back!" The Norwegian retorted, holding onto the large hand attached to the front of his cloak.
Denmark looked away, his gazed softening, as he dropped Norway to the ground, letting him fall to his bottom. He picked up the note that had fallen to the ground and gripped it tightly in his hands, the page crinkling under the pressure of his fingers. He seemed calm now, aside from his hands shaking as they balled into fists. "Get out." He said, in just above a whisper.
Lukas didn't say another word, he picked up his bag and stood, quickly walking past Mathias and through the doorway. He didn't look back. Not once.
Mathias took one last look at the letter, holding it up to his face. He scoffed, crumpling it and throwing it out into the backyard as he slammed the door closed. Fresh tears made their way down his cheeks. He hadn't even bothered reading the second half of the letter.
Norway, the man who Denmark cared about most in the world, had confessed his love.
And Mathias didn't even realize it was there.
/A/N/
Hey, everyone! It's me! This is my second story for Hetalia, the pairing DenNor. Though this one is a one shot.
I'm having writer's block on the other story OTL And usually when I have writer's block I write sad stuff. So hopefully, I can get back to writing /Little One/ soon.
Let me know what you guys think! I'd love to hear your feedback!
So, this song was written while listening to the song that it's inspired by, White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons, though the page I have written about obviously has words… XD
Hetalia and White Blank Page do not belong to me. This story was written for fun and to help ease Writer's Block.
Until next time!