A/N: I'm using 'Erik' for Norway, 'Magnus' for Denmark and 'Emil' for Iceland. Don't worry, I'm still researching names. Also, this is set in the second Kalmar Union. At the very least, something like that.

Dressed in a white muslin frock, with a simple choker of flowers around his neck, Emil could now see why everyone was so infatuated with his brother.

Mesmerizing pools of lavender light, paired with high cheekbones and equally fair skin and hair, together with a slim build, painted a picture of unrivaled and otherworldly beauty. The afternoon sun really made him look stunning.

But if he looked delicate, then he was just as dangerous. Magic literally flowed through his veins, and his sharp tongue and wit almost equaled his ability to wield almost any weapon. He was graceful and forceful, kind but calculating. He was altogether a mix of sharp edges tempered by the winter storm and gentle summer breeze.

"Sleep, child. You will need your rest for later."

Emil was half-tempted to protest, but warm lips pressed against his forehead and he found himself overcome with weariness.

"Why did Magnus marry you?"

The question had been bugging him for quite a while now, and though he knew the answer- "love", it seems- it just didn't quite make sense. Everything is quite a jumble in children's minds.

"Because he is a fool, that's why."

"That's your answer to everything!"

"Really?" A small smile plays on his brother's lips, and there is a mischievous glint in his eye. He leans forward to take Emil's tiny hands into his own, kneeling down next to his bed to face him eye to eye.

"They say that it is impossible to marry someone you don't know much about, let alone love."

"Whoever told you that?" Erik asks, quite taken aback by his seemingly wise answer. "Who's been teaching you all about the matters of love, hmm?"

"No one." Emil says quickly, getting quite nervous with the way his brother's eyes widen and knowing full well that that was a sign of trouble.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

Erik knew Emil was lying, but instead opted to play it coy.

"Oh well, I suppose I'll just have to stop asking the cooks to make you licorice." He pouts slightly, trying to buy in the child. It works.

Tiny hands flew up from his grasp to cover the toddler's mouth.

"You wouldn't!"

"Oh, but I would. I won't share until you share."

"You're mean!"

"On the contrary, I do share." He pauses to think aloud, before returning to the child. "And I'm not mean."

"Your secrets have secrets! You know everything!"

"If I would, then why am I asking you?"

"..."

Erik laughs at Emil's shocked face. He then presses another kiss to his brother's face, right on the cheek, before tucking him in again and placing the boy's toy puffin beside him.

"It's time for bed. Good-"

"Fine, it's-" Emil beckons over, and he leans forward to catch what he says.

Outside, Magnus stands by the door, peeking in by just a crack. Having escaped the monotonous briefings of his advisors on the usual economic and socio-political matters, he was now free to while away the hours on his own terms. A breath of fresh air was what he needed, preferably accompanied by his better half.

Huh. Hard to believe that he had finally gotten the stubborn yet otherwise lovely Norwegian to marry him, and take up the title of ruling monarch by his side. So many moons ago were the marriage and yet the memory lingered of how he had made Erik realize the walls he had built up around himself, the pathetic excuse that was a free spirit as a mere façade for his own naivety and fear.

Resuming his post by the door, Magnus took stock of what was happening. The two brothers were once again engaged in happy banter, giggling and teasing. He had been watching the exchange for about 10 minutes now, ever since he had silently stalked Lukas from the library, when the latter happened to pass by and he had 'excused' himself from the ongoing debate on whether or not to open trading ports with Belgium.

The soft swish of dress and muted footsteps on the stone floor made him take cue of his surprise greeting. Hiding now, just barely peeking from behind a heavy tapestry, he watched as the heavy oak door groaned noisily as it shut closed. It was enough to mask his footsteps as he moved to grab his prize.

Turning around, Erik suddenly found himself grabbed by the waist, trapped by two strong arms and pressed flush against someone's chest. He didn't have to guess who it was.

"I hate it when you do that."

A low husky voice laughed in his ear. "It's what I do best."

"Shouldn't you be in the library?"

"What, arguing with those old farts? Hell no. I'd rather take a stroll with you." Magnus moved to hold his hand.

"You are literally the worst king ever." Erik shook his head in disapproval, but otherwise intertwined his fingers with that of Magnus.

"Don't I know it? Sneaking out to take strolls with his spouse? Doesn't that make me the most loyal and thoughtful king?"

Erik rolled his eyes but moved to follow the Dane anyway, leaning slightly into his hold as they made their way to the castle gardens. They weren't royalty for the moment, but rather, a couple who wanted nothing more than to spend eternity with each other.

In the little time that they had between the waking hours and the eternal night, they had learned to silently talk of promises of fervent kisses, harsh gasps and lingering touches and tangled sheets, of a warm bed and muted laughs, of smiles pressed into soft skin and the highs of an exquisite pleasure known only to those who have loved and been loved.

Such is the sweet taste of a love as sweet as strawberries in the summer.