Please read:
This will be a heavily history based story about the Swedish-Norwegian union. At the end of the chapter I will give you a small timeline as a "summary", in case some of the events going on in the chapter are confusing. I will also be using a lot of place names from Scandinavia, so before every chapter I will give you a list of them so that you won't be lost when they appear in the story. :)
Please enjoy. :D
Christiania – Norway's capital, today called Oslo.
Copenhagen – Denmark's capital.
Skagerrak – The part of the North sea dividing Norway and Denmark.
Svinesund – Technically a place in Sweden, though it is a place where Norway and Sweden meet, Svinesund bridge carrying across the border.
Kongsvinger – place and town in Norway
Jylland – peninsula in Denmark, up north.
August 1807.
His stride is long as he all but flows down the corridor, his open coat fluttering behind him. His face is the same as always; no tell-tale sign of any feelings what so ever. And that is perhaps what made no one stop him as he is clearly headed for that room. It is either that, or the event that has taken three days and has now finally ended. That which is on everyone's tongues, and makes them sneak peeks at him while their voices dim to a whisper and then disappears completely when he passes them.
He walks straight up to the double doors and without losing stride, soundlessly and effortlessly swings them open.
A grand table stands in the middle of the room, chairs gathered around it, all of them vacant save one. At the farther end, face buried in hands, sits a man with broad shoulders wearing the latest fashion in suits. The suit itself and the blond hair crowning the down turned head however, are in disarray –like the man has been pulling at them, or just finished a long jog.
The man who has entered stops and stands still for a little while, taking in the sight and observing. He ignores the lingering uncomfortable tingle at his core that is messing with his nervous system. He knows the sitting male has it a lot worse, yet it is not in his nature, nor is it the time, to show compassion.
This is why he eyes the man calmly, crosses his arms and notes –ever so colloquially-:
"You are an idiot."
It provokes an immediate reaction with the sitting man. His head snaps up. Though regardless of the sharp movement, there is no doubt he had noticed the other's entrance and had been aware of his presence the entire time. His hands slowly fall to the table. His eyes are a narrowed stare of light blue.
"My apologies," the man by the door says, a slight touch of sarcasm to his voice, but not much. "Your-" And again he stops, the faintest of expressions crossing his face. "-our king is an idiot."
The sitting man snorts and by his hands tightening into fists it is obvious he is trying to contain his anger. "I am surprised you can take this so lightly, Norway."
The eyes of the man by the door narrow ever so slightly; taking a turn for the colder. But he keeps the light tone of nonchalance in his voice. "I am not the one who had my capital attacked for three days."
"It is your capital to!" the man by the table hisses. By the door Norway, ignores it.
"And frankly, you deserved it, allowing the king act like he did. How ignorant do you intend to become?" Towards the end of his short speech, contrary to his ordinary conduct, his control must have slipped, for his voice had grown a little louder.
"Norway!" the sitting man slams his fists in the table and stands abruptly. His chair's legs screeches against the floor in protest, threatening to topple over. Neither notice. "This is serious, that sort of attitude is intolerable!"
"Shut it, Denmark. That was my people who were attacked and killed as well. Don't make the mistake and think I leave unscathed by this," Norway's voice become dangerously low as the tone drops, his eyes locking with the other male. For a split second they seem to flare up. It could have just been a trick of the light, but it makes the male by the table quiet down.
The two remain in silence for a while. The door behind Norway is still open, every human outside it having heard every word. They probably would have even if the doors had been closed. But they know better than to interfere or ask questions.
Finally the broad shouldered man, Denmark, drops down back into his seat. "Why would England go so far?" His voice is a low, harsh snarl. Norway sighs.
"You have become strong, Denmark. We have. But Europe won't always yield to your wishes, and England is growing more and more paranoid the bigger his empire becomes. He has a lot to protect and maintain."
It had lasted for three days and left the people of Copenhagen, as well as the rest of the Danish-Norwegian nation, in a state of shock. And it had all been a chain reaction from the revolution taking place in France. A man by the name Napoleon is leading it, and any man or nation with his head mounted right on his shoulders can sense the storm brewing in Europe. It will not be pretty.
Denmark and Norway had agreed to stay out of it. Neutrality would protect them, and they would hopefully have been left mainly untouched by the event. Or so they had hoped. But that hope sailed with the wind when England beat France two years before, in a sea battle by Trafalgar in Spain. France followed it up by trying to shut England off on his island the following year, in 1806. And so it had gotten to England's head that it was vital that France did not get a hold of the fleet Denmark and Norway were in possession of. England's fleet was known as the strongest in Europe, and no one doubted that. But the Danish-Norwegian fleet was the second strongest.
Norway had caught wind of it. And quite frankly, he expected it to happen. He believed he would have done the same had he been in England's shoes. Or maybe he wouldn't. Either way, a few of Napoleon's men contacted Denmark, and so did England's king. Norway had been back in his own original land at that time. It had been one of his trips to personally meet his nobles again and look after his rightful part of their people, and had trusted Denmark and their king to handle the affairs going on.
But it had ended in flames. England's king –or rather Great Britain's king, as that was more politically correct- had posed their king this dilemma: either they could join Great Britain in the war, or they could hand over the fleet while retaining their neutrality.
The Danish crown declined both offers. Norway temporarily blamed that on the man's inexperience, but Denmark had no excuse for not giving their royalty better advice.
Great Britain had given a last opportunity. English troops had come, demanding to have the fleet. The fleet would be returned as soon as the war ended; this they had promised. But Denmark refused, and the Brits attacked.
For three days they bombed Copenhagen. The city stood in flames. From across the narrow gap of Skagerrak, in his own capital, Norway had felt it. Albeit Denmark's land was not his soil, they were still in a strong union and had been for several hundred years. Through the years they had developed a faint physical attachment to each other's land. A part of him had told him to go to Copenhagen at once, that despite their old age and long experience, this was still painful for Denmark, by the tenfold than it was for Norway.
But he had remained in Christiania, behind his desk in the locked confinements of his office as he stared out into the fjord, Copenhagen somewhere on the other side illuminated in oranges and reds.
Now he thought silently to himself that doing so might have been good. Denmark is beyond furious. It burns in his eyes, vibrating off his humanlike shell and sears Norway to his core through their union bond. He has a feeling Denmark has been unapproachable the past three days. So distance has probably been for the best. At the three-day mark, Denmark had given in, and having sunk a small part of it, Great Britain left with the rest of the entire Danish-Norwegian fleet.
The people did not know how many had died, but Norway -and Denmark as well, Norway thinks- knows they are counting by the thousands by the prickling feeling in their chests.
"What do you intend to do now?" Norway asks.
Denmark, whose eyes has descended to the table in thought, sits rock still for a few moments. Then he lifts his hands, folding them in front of his face so that his mouth is hidden, his nose resting against his fingers. He looks up, ice cold blue eyes meeting Norway's.
"We're joining France.
We're going to war."
It has been a year. Norway had returned to Christiania shortly after hearing Denmark's words. A message had already been dispatched to France, and at the time being Norway was more needed in his own land: Sweden was not completely neutral anymore either, and with Sweden and Russia on the brink of war and Russia being France's ally, they would have to expect an attack from Sweden. Norway was therefore sent back to his own home by Denmark and the king. He had been instructed to ready his men and make all preparations he could for war.
Sweden will attack. It is only a matter of time. Be ready for him.
-Denmark.
1808. Sweden and Russia have charged at each other's throat with Finland as the price, and now Denmark and Norway himself are involved as well. It was brief and swift: the Swedes invaded across his border, the battle standing all the way from Svinesund to Kongsvinger. It ends with Norway throwing Sweden to the ground, a snarl in his voice though his eyes stayed indifferent.
"Get out of my land."
To the humans surrounding them, they would remind more of animals than anything else. Norway has a strong grip of Sweden's collar with both hands, teeth barred as he pushes the taller nation into the ground. Neither of them fashioned weapons like the humans around them. But that is the way it is. Weapons can wound, but they cannot kill them. Between nations, war is a matter of dominance.
Sweden leaves with the remains of his men, and Norway can return to Christiania with the remains of his.
But the joy of the small victory is short lived. Norway is soon far too busy focusing on holding himself and his people together, and he has many a meeting with his nobles as they try to find the resources and solutions.
"That is the only solution." It is the final word of one his nobles. Norway doesn't disagree. "We cannot continue like this, and when they fail to help us we must do what's best for us," the human man says. They all agree, a decision is made and Norway is left to carry it out. No one knows the truth to their words better than him. As the night hours drape themselves darkly across the land, Norway dips a pen gently in ink. It feels like there is a void inside is middle. But he ignores it has he presses the blackened nib to the parchment.
Denmark.
It is not going well. As you are aware, the harvest has gone wrong. With Great
Britain blocking harbours from Napoli to the Northern Cape, we both know you
are not able to provide us with enough food. We cannot maintain an army this
way. My people are starving; many have already fallen dead to the famine.
You need to speak to your king. Our only possibility is a separate peace between
Great Britain, Sweden and I.
Norway stops up a little. His free hand has subconsciously gone to his middle, gingerly clutching his aching stomach. His face falls into a thoughtful frown as he recalls all the effects this war has had on them in this short amount of time, and what it could mean for them. After weighing his words, he dips the pen again and continues writing.
It will also be in our best interest to cease fire with Great Britain. You know they
are a close trade partners of mine, and therefore closely attached to my economy.
With regards, Norway.
As soon as he has finished writing, he seals the envelope with red wax and the seal of the ring on his finger. He looks at the small print of his coat of arms as the wax dries, small black spots tainting the red here and there due to his imprecise heating of the wax. But it doesn't matter.
The letter is delivered to a messenger, and they, the nobles and Norway, can only hope it survives the journey to Denmark and that the king and nation himself will heed their plea.
Weeks later, alone in the meeting hall, Norway's fingers pierce the paper of Denmark's response in a brief loss of control as he reads the letter. His jaws are tightly clenched, eyes wide with anger. He has already read it many times in the presence of his nobles already. But it is first now, after they have left, that he lets his feelings slip through.
Denmark declined.
1812
"My king, we should not hesitate to make use of this opportunity."
The king says nothing, and Niels Rosenkrantz licks his lips quickly before continuing. He is the minister of foreign affairs, and in Norway's mind, one of the few sensible human beings in all this madness. But he doesn't say it. Instead he sits obediently and silently by the wide table in Denmark's meeting room. Denmark is standing behind his king, and on the table is the same big map from 1807, the year of the fleet robbery.
"Now that Napoleon is busy attacking Russia, we should take this chance to offer our aid to Great Britain, sire."
The king still says nothing, just eyes the map in thought. Neils glances about the room, then back at the map.
"Sire, may I remind you that Austria and Prussia are on Great Britain's side. With Russia changing sides from France to Great Britain last year, we are the only ally France has left. We must weigh the possibility of France losing this war. We should act now, before it is too late."
"It is not official," Denmark breaks in. Norway shoots a glance in his direction but it is not met. Denmark's hard stare is only directed at the map and the rest of the men, not even the slightest of glances straying to Norway "Russia and Sweden joined in an alliance. But both have yet to sign a formal alliance with Great Britain."
"It is only a matter of time," Neils says, and though Denmark's does not, the minister's eyes briefly lock with Norway. Norway masks a sigh as the minister's words clearly do nothing to influence the king, but displays no feelings when he meets Niels eyes. The king sits there on his grand chair at the end of the table, looking at the map, though not thoughtfully; it is clear to Norway that his king has already made up his mind. And behind the man stands Denmark, as unwavering as their king.
But it is not like Norway doesn't understand, or doesn't even feel the same things, for he does. Despite the many years, he is, as Denmark, still angered by forcefully having been pulled into this war they had wanted to stay out of. He is still bitter for the robbery of their fleet, and all the unnecessary lives that thus had been lost. Still, he feels his part of people's needs better than Denmark does, they mark themselves clearer in his core than in Denmark, and that functions like an anchor. Denmark is in a sense the prouder of the two, as he has been a superior nation (especially in comparison to Norway himself) through the past many hundred years in several areas. The truth is also that Denmark is quite probably a lot less detached from his personal feelings than Norway.
Norway has fewer inhabitants. And Denmark has always been the educational central of the two, while Norway has always been more of a simple farmer's nation, but it never really bothered him. And right now there is nothing he can do for the men sent to war, or the many civilians killed in 1807. What he can, however, is focus on the well-being of the people physically still within his borders.
And then there was that other crucial little fact. The one that made Norway feel uncertain about the years to come. As the many advisors, ministers and leaders of war speak with grave and serious faces, pointing to different points at the map and raising their voices when someone disagrees, Norway only listens with half an ear. His eyes also travel across the map, as theirs do, but his mind is elsewhere along with his thoughts of concern. Sweden and Russia has fought in what will later be called The Finnish War from the beginning of 1808 to the end of 1809, Sweden being the losing part and Finland being Russia's prize.
Yet now they are in an alliance.
Norway does not know exactly what sort of agreement has passed between the two, though political and historical experience does give him a certain hunch. And he knows Denmark, as well as his politicians and ministers, must know the same as he. But it seems they are far too preoccupied with the war, or too set on winning, to properly think about it. So he hopes, for his own sake and the sake of his people, as well as Denmark, that he is wrong.
He stays silent throughout the rest of the meeting, and basically through any other meeting as well. Denmark is on a warpath, and could Norway not support him like Denmark craved, he had best stay silent. It gave Norway many opportunities to think for himself though, and many a times would he come to recall the times Denmark and he had stood in front of a similar map –though drawn a lot simpler-, lost in equal war thirst.
Regardless, the months pass, and France's attack on Russia fails ("Really," Norway thinks with rolling eyes when he hears the news, "How had he expected to win? His soldiers' clothes were far from thick enough"). Which is why, December 1812, Norway and Denmark stand side by side, alone in the big meeting room, save for two other men: Russia and Sweden.
The two stand face to face with Denmark and Norway. Their leaders have already met, decisions have been made, but all four of them know this is not final.
"So that was your new leader?"
Norway is the one to speak in the pin drop silence between the four. It is directed at Sweden. Sweden nods.
"Fr'm France. Karl Johan."
"Jean Baptiste Bernadotte was his real name, unless I heard wrong," Norway says. "He was one of Napoleon's generals, wasn't he?" Sweden nods in reply. He has opened his mouth to reply, but the colloquial tone between them has been hammering away on a nerve in Denmark, and now he has clearly had enough.
"Norway," He says sharply, the Nordic nation remaining silent and Sweden closing his mouth, his eyes narrowing and becoming darker. Denmark is not intimidated in the least, staring back with hard eyes.
"You heard my king's answer. He declined. Now leave."
Sweden is did not the one to reply, instead the smiling man next to him does. "We will." It does nothing pretty with Denmark's mood.
"And what is he doing here?" He growls, flinging out with an arm to point harshly in Russia's direction, who only smiles at the hostile gesture.
"Pr'tects m' int'rests," Sweden shrugs. "You wer' two, s' 'nly nat'ral f'r me to bring s'mone."
"And what did Finland say to you forging an alliance with him?" Denmark asks. The next second he is taking half a step backwards to support himself from the heavy blow Sweden has delivered to his right jaw. Denmark barely touches his bruised cheek before his eyes glint dangerously, and then his hands are around Sweden's throat, ramming the stoic nation into a wall.
For several moments, the only thing that can be heard is the two nations' breathing. Deep and steady, slightly faster than a normal tempo.
"My. King. Declined." Denmark growls with a low voice, speaking slowly, emphasizing on every word. Sweden looks completely unfazed, meeting the Danish nation's eyes seemingly with complete ease. Denmark snarls. His grip on Sweden's throat is reaffirmed; he pulls the Swedish nation a few centimetres out from the wall before slamming him back against it.
"You will not take Norway from me."
Norway does nothing. He disregards the faint tinge at his core, keeping the same emotionless outer appearance. This visit has been Sweden's first official claim of his land. The Danish king had promptly refused.
"Oh, but I am afraid we will."
Russia, from having looked on with that same, peaceful smile, steps in and pries Denmark off of Sweden. "He must be compensated for his loss of Finland after all." He smiles, Denmark's wrist in a strong grip, which proves to be wise, because Denmark loses it.
"You're the one who took Finland from him in the first place!"
It is infuriating, how Russia could just keep on smiling. The entire ordeal is beyond all frustration, in that Norway agrees with Denmark with all his being. But Denmark is displaying everything he feels, and to prevent the severe damage a room and individuals could be dealt if the inhuman strength of four nations clashed together from happening, he stays silent. Instead he looks to Sweden, who at some point has turned away. He is straightening his clothes, and when he is done he tells Russia they are finished there.
Russia lets go of Denmark, and for a second it looks like the Danish nation will hit the other. But he doesn't. Instead he opens and closes his fists, jaw muscles tense as he stand straight up and down, watching the two light blonde men leave.
The two remaining Nordic nations are left in silence, neither moving for several minutes, until Denmark mumbles,
"I need to look over the tactic plans again," and leaves as well.
Their king is wringing his hands, though slowly. That and the wrinkle between his eyebrows are the only signs of his uncertainty and discomfort.
It has not been long, not at all, since Sweden and Russia first came. Yet so much has had time to change regardless. Something that has not changed though, is Norway's silence as he sits at his seat faithfully, not saying a word. His mind however does think, and he cannot help but think that little betraying thought,
"You should have listened to Niels Rosenkrantz".
Denmark isn't much better for wear. He's staring at the map, every muscle in his body tense, wide open eyes witness of a hectic and high speed mess of thoughts storming through his head. He is thinking of a way to save it. Norway knows that. He can see it, sense it, and knows Denmark would not allow himself to be humiliated and lose so easily.
As he sits there, Norway wonders if Denmark fully comprehends what will happen when Napoleon loses the war; for it is just to face it, Napoleon will lose. A long time has already passed since the human leader's last victory.
Of course Denmark understands the consequences. But, and Norway scowls just ever so slightly at himself for letting this get to him as a chill whisper ghosts through his core, he does not understand it like he normally would. Or as he should. Denmark has changed, it happened a long time ago, and Norway fears he will not properly wake up and understand until Norway is finally gone from his firm grasp.
Norway sighs inaudibly, resisting the urge to rub his face from exhaustion. A lot of things have happened during this short period of time, and Norway has managed to catch wind of both this and that as he has stayed in Copenhagen instead of returning to Christiania. Jean Bernadotte, or Karl Johan, as it is, did hope for Napoleon's supported in winning back Finland. France's leader on the other hand did not grant any him of what he wanted, and now Sweden has finally signed an official alliance with Great Britain.
Now this happening finally jerked their king awake. For Great Britain, in return for Sweden joining the war against France, supports Sweden's claim on Norway. Not that Great Britain has told Norway this by any form of letter or the like of course, or that Sweden has told him for that matter. Or even Denmark. No, England and his brothers, and the two nations Norway prefers to regard as his brothers -if not by borders-, has kept it all above his head, as nothing but the poor property of Denmark that he is.
The only reason he knows what is going on is thanks to his decision of staying. This however, also means he has not had the chance to go back to his people to tell them what was going on. But at the very least their king is not lazy, and when things took a turn for the worse, he took his precautions that again would serve to spread information through his country.
For their king, the Danish king, upon hearing the news of the official alliance, panicked. He suddenly decided to reconsider the possibility of a change of alliances. To no surprise, none of the countries on the other side wants them anymore; Russia is firm in his claim that Sweden has to be compensated. Denmark and Norway are stuck with being on their own or continuing being with France.
"Fine," Denmark mutters. Norway, whose gaze at some point had wandered elsewhere, looks at him.
"Fine," Denmark says again, a little more resolute. "If this is what they want, then that is what they will get. France is planning an attack on Leipzig. My king, I say we reinforce our alliance with him and join the battle that will stand there."
Without moving his head, Norway looks to the king. King Fredrik the 6th, sitting there on his grand chair, a grave expression on his face. He nods.
"Yes. We shall join France, and we shall not be beat."
Upon his words, the army is suited up and prepares to be dispatched to Germany and Leipzig. And Norway does not grab a hold of Denmark's hand to hold the nation back and tell him how crazy this is when they leave. Instead he stands silent by the door after just as silently watching the taller man get dressed and equip himself for battle. On the way out, Denmark is the one to stop in front of Norway.
"I will be back soon."
Norway nods. Denmark turns to leave, but then hesitates. He looks at Norway, opening his mouth as if to say something more, but not a sound comes from him and he leaves without doing anything more. The power had long since gone to his head.
Norway stands by the window, watching on as the army leaves, Denmark proudly and grimly in front. All since the Kalmar union, he has been different. Every now and again Norway will see the old, careless nation Denmark once was, but these happenings has grown to be fewer and fewer as the years has gone by. Now, as he watches them leave, Norway wonders whether it is for the better or worse that he himself is such a poor country. Of course, he has had his shining moments and also lost it at some points through history, but as of the past several hundred years he has been rather badly off, economically. He is an underdog nation, and he plays that role well, he believes, but it is also keeping him sane, he hopes.
The war does not go as Denmark and France has hoped. They lose, and while Great Britain and the other allied chase Napoleon, Karl Johan sends his troops on a detour through North Germany into Jylland where he beats the Danish forces.
In January, 1814, it is all over. The 15th of January the peace treaty of Kiel is signed and Norway officially belongs to Sweden. In reality however, it is really only a Danish-Norwegian capitulation in disguise that dissolves their shared kingdom, with the king of Denmark surrendering Norway to Sweden.
AN:
Important: If there was anything that was confusing, or something you want to know, don't hesitate to ask. :)
I don't have a major in history, it is merely an "extra-subject" my school course has to ensure we graduate with an "average qualification". I have my school history textbook (as well as the history teacher), and a private history book as sources. What I write in this story should be correct, as I check it carefully with the books, buut I'm no expert, so if you see I have made a mistake, please point it out to me. :D Thanks for reading.
1805 – France vs England sea battle, Trafalgar. England wins.
1806 – France tries to shut the English off on their island.
1807 – The fleet robbery.
1808 – Sweden vs Russia war begins. (small battle, Norway vs Sweden)
1809 – Sweden loses Finland to Russia.
1812 – Napoleon loses against Russia.
Bernadotte chosen as the next king of Sweden. Changes name to Karl Johan.
(Sweden and Russia alliance)
1813 – Sweden and Russia in official alliance with England, Sweden's claim on Norway is supported by England, Austria and Prussia in return for going against France.
1814 – 14th of January, the peace of Kiel, Norway given to Sweden.
Norway:
When it comes to whether the Norwegians knew of the whole union-swap or not, I had difficulty deciding. My school source tells me they knew nothing, as communication is a little lacking in the beginning of the 1800s, plus Norway is a very poor country.
But my private history book says some knew, depending on who they were and where they lived. Sooo I went with a sort of middle course.
I first intended not to let Norway know anything before the papers were signed, as that is how it more or less was, but seeing as he is a nation and with the age and experience a nation had, I thought he would be smart enough to stay in Copenhagen to try keep an eye on things.
Lastly: This chapter was betaed by the extremely quick psychoInnocent. :D