A/N- Here to tie over those who're waiting for the next chapter of My Hand is Fate, but it hopefully won't take too long. Written in relation to a drawing I did on Tumblr. If you like music with story, try Hammock- City in the Dust On My Window.


Today was a dreary one, unless someone liked it that way. Rain billowed down from the dreary ashen clouds high above, but not so far that the tips of mountains could escape their cover. Its assault on the surface mixed with the crashing of a nearby river flowing down the hills and into the rough waters that belonged to the fjord. Days like these were typically, for one in their household, a time for consideration. Thinking.

Denmark never really liked it at all when the rain made everything look so bleak and sorrowful. He preferred the days when sun would beat on his skin and the clouds were white and uplifting. Not like this at all. However, the advantages of sharing a house with a life partner would always be apparent, no matter how crepuscular his mood.

The comfort of the aged yet spotless sofa carried the weight of their two bodies all across it, perhaps in both a physical and emotional sense. Denmark's legs and body was tucked in towards the side Norway's own being, the shorter holding the Dane almost delicately. Norway's hand languidly ran down the taller blond's scalp and through the thick mop, the other slung around his warm body to lie on the waist. Denmark's head was settled on the Norwegian's chest above the comfortable sweater to listen to his heart beat and feel the gentle rise and fall of the torso. A soothing hum quietly reverberated from Norway's throat to further wash away the worry from his partner's mind.

The quiet of the inside and sound of pouring rain from the out was broken when Denmark opened his eyes and spoke, but softly, as if afraid he would break the glass of calm.

"Nor…? Could I ask ya somethin'?" The melodic hum from Norway ceased, followed by an inquisitive one instead.

"Do you think," He asked with a moment of hesitation, "We'll be together… forever, I mean?" The question made his silent partner knit his brow in mild confusion.

"Why do you ask?" Norway said with concern.

"Because I'm worried, and I want to know."

Denmark's statement softened his expression. Norway's hand drifted from the Dane's hair to lay on top of Denmark's hand that covered the left of his chest. A finger from his hand rubbed the silver ring below it, worn by Denmark. Norway's voice was almost silky despite his usual gruffness when he reassured, "This is a symbol that can never be broken. Therefore, even when something eternal like death might come to take us away, I would never have us separated. I wouldn't allow it."

He could almost feel a smile turn the corners of his lips, but for now, Denmark only shifted his head so he could look up at the Norwegian's rather sincere face with hopeful eyes. Hopeful eyes desperate for an answer. Norway closed his own pair and mumbled, "Because the love we have is everlasting." He lifted his head from the arm of the sofa to plant a soft kiss on the Dane's forehead, then settled it back into the coziness of the couch. Denmark finally smiled again, and soothed by the answer, gradually fell into the arms of a welcoming sleep.


The world has never looked more sorrowful than it does now. Woodland creatures didn't sing for the forests, the sun was scared of peeking through the inanimate skies, and clouds let down the remnants of poison left by those who ruined the haven that was their own planet. Deprived, even grass could not go about its own cheerful green nature. Only abandoned ruins and marks were evidence of a once lively place. The world was cold, dark, and dead.

One such forgotten mark was an unassuming headstone in the open wilderness, among the shriveled and expired grass, colored many shades of sickly auburn. The old slab of stone was crumbling from its age and deterioration, cracks riddling its surfaces, and pieces that had fallen laid on the ground. Despite its weathered nature, its inscription could still be deciphered.

'Here and forevermore rest the Kingdoms of Denmark and Norway, fallen from the world, but never forgotten.'

Yet there would never be another living soul to ever again read these words or remember them.

The air became chilled, more so than usual, above the doleful headstone. Unhurriedly, apparitions came to be seen above it. Their transparent forms moved towards one another, once again. They had no need for words any longer, even if they wished it; but even for departed souls, merely being in each other's presence overjoyed them, the spirits of the two former nations that had loved each other until the day they died in each other's arms.

Denmark smiled hopefully, offering a hand to Norway. With his own smaller smile of content agreement, the Norwegian phantom accepted it and pulled their nonexistent bodies together. The Dane took the first light steps, aloft from the ground with his partner. A dance, they made, passionate at first despite the lack of music. He led the shorter man to spin with the rise of his arm, and came back to him. Norway moved with Denmark's leads with such vigor and energy, as if it would seep into him and renew his tired soul. They moved quickly, at times close, at others apart, steps fleeting and hiding from each other, then coming so closely back together they nearly touched, every jerk of the hips or practiced move of the leg and swish of the arms quietly expressing their very enthusiasm for the other.

Soon enough, their lively dance settled and calmed into a slower dance, Denmark having given the lead to Norway. The Dane's right hand rested in Norway's left, and his left around the other's back, the Norwegian's right behind Denmark's own back. With the suave and gentle rocking, left to right, back and forth, they created their own silent rhythm and melody. Denmark became lost in this moment, so joyful that he could still share these tender moments with the one he loved. He began to cry, tears dripping down his face. Norway only continued to smile, and wiped them away from his cheek as they grew even closer in their dance with a hand, caressing it as the hand drifted back down to meet Denmark's again. Even now as the lead, Norway was close enough to lay his head against Denmark's chest. It carried on until their movements faded, and the slow dance became an embrace instead.

The only thing missing now was the warmth they could feel from one another's skin when they were once living, that heat now forgotten.

Norway then lifted slightly, to leave a tender and closed-mouth kiss to Denmark's lips. This only brought forth more tears of happiness as he buried his face is Norway's shoulder, who in turn held Denmark tightly, rubbing his back, ghosting to him sweet words of comfort and love.

Forevermore they could dance quietly, hold each other, share a kiss in this forsaken land.

Because the love they had was everlasting.