Author: R ii S ii N G . S U N .tm / WingedAssassinRiku
Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Hetalia.
Author's Notes: This was supposedly an RP post for an old friend of mine whom I don't talk to anymore, however I feel that I should post it on to spread the DenmarkSweden love. This isn't historically accurate and will also have many flaws grammar and spelling wise. I do hope that you'll enjoy it.
Letter
a Hetalia DenSu fanfiction
The soft light of one single candle illuminated the dark study Denmark had been sitting in, hands clutching his hair as he stared at a blank paper perched in front of him along with the fountain pen he had been tapping on his desk only a moment ago. The big grandmother clock in a corner of the room didn't make things better either, the ticking only annoying the blond as he moved a hand out of his hair to drum his fingers over the desk. The hat that normally adored his hair or simply just seemed part of it lay astray on the floor, he'd tossed it there in frustration and along with the hat were quite some pieces of torn paper, crippled and ripped to shreds, the handwriting that was visible looking extremely neat for his doing, something one would not expect from the Dane, of course not, they all thought he was extremely sloppy and slovenly. He was quite far from that though, he liked his house neat and clean, but right now frustration was all that was on his mind and the neat freak in him would definitely not be cleaning the paper on the floor.
Denmark sighed, closing his eyes as he thought deeply, what would he write down, he had to, no, he needed to write down something perfect, something that would make sure that everything he was currently feeling would be known by him, that one person who he knew hated him, who had left him and he also knew that had been his own God damned fault. He'd done so many things to the Swede and he was sure he would not forgive him for his deeds, and he was sure that the letter he wanted to write would not make up for it either, but in all honesty and truth, the axe-wielding man was scared, scared of being denied, rejected, losing that was precious to him, not that he hadn't already lost said person, but still. He was scared to show how he felt, to show any sign of weakness that might just be the end of him, he had a reputation to uphold, after all. Not like Sweden would care of he did… He'd probably rather have him put his pride and reputation to the side instead of hiding behind it, but that wasn't like Denmark, he took pride in what he did, every little bit, he had been proud of the Kalmar Union when it had still been intact, when Sweden was still part of it and when he could enjoy his presence, even if the other did not enjoy his actions. Eventually that was also what made him leave, the Dane's behaviour and attitude was what had made him leave.
He regretted everything he'd done though, Stockholm, Skåne… It made him wonder why he'd done all those terrible things, was he really that power lusting? Had he really wanted control over Sweden, Norway, Iceland and Finland that much? It bothered him, but he'd changed, right? Sighing, the blond took his pen once again, frowning as he thought of what he could write down. Of course he had changed, but if it were for the better was the question left to be asked. He started writing, hand moving swiftly across the paper as the first letters were written in pitch black ink.
Dear Sverige,
No, scrap that, why even begin with such a cliché thing? He would just get straight to the point, why did he even need a formal greeting anyway, it wasn't as if the other blond wasn't used to him being rude, because he most definitely was, he was quite sure of that. Fuck this, he was going to write what was on his mind now and the Dane soon started move his hand holding the pen swiftly across the paper, elegant curls and small narrow letters filling the page, some lines striped out whereas some were underlined, indicating that those would not be used and the others would.
When Denmark had finally thought he was halfway through his letter, the big clock rang three times, making the male look up to stare over his shoulder to see what time it was, he frowned upon seeing the time, three AM already? Time went by fast, not that he was having fun, most certainly not, because he was actually struggling with the letter that held everything he felt and his heart's contents in it. He hadn't taken a break or anything and thus he also only now noticed how thirsty he was and how much his bladder was making his stomach ache. Sighing the Dane stood up from his seat, stretching his tired and stiff limbs, his back popping painfully loud in the quiet room before he scratched the back of his head and left the study. He wasn't going to wander too far, he'd just go take a piss, grab something to drink and maybe something to nibble on while he was at it and probably get himself a cigarette before he'd go back to work, yeah, that somewhat seemed like something he'd do, plus he'd have to grab a new candle because the one he was using was about to burn out.
His house was big, correction, make that huge. It was a rather old mansion near the sea, standing tall in the darkness and somewhat looking frightening with it's mahogany doors, at day it looked beautiful though, the structure and small details clearly visible and it actually looked quite liveable, especially with the ivy growing up the walls. It was really a true sight to behold and the blond himself had to agree with that, he absolutely adored his house, however there was one thing he truly hated about it. He hated how lonely it got in such a big mansion, but what would you expect, he had lived with Sweden, Finland, Norway and Iceland for quite some centuries and now that they were all gone it had gotten quiet, cold and it almost didn't feel like home anymore. Of course it was his home, but he just wanted some company, the company he always had.
The memories of those times were precious to him and he carried them closely, in fact if one would enter his house they'd probably only see old furniture, this had been done on purpose though. It wasn't like Denmark was old fashioned, far from it, but this was exactly what his house looked like before everyone left, he hadn't moved a single object, everything had been in the same exact place as it had been before. The big chair in the living room that was surrounded by the couches the other Nordics had used, the basket that held Sweden's old yarn was still placed near the chair and one of the couches, it looked as if time had stopped in his house, quite depressing actually. Their old beds, two of them unmade while two others were made, he had never changed that, he had never let anyone sleep in those beds besides those he had considered brothers and perhaps a little more than that. He wasn't obsessed, not at all, he just wanted to keep those memories, the good and the bad, because they were what had made the Dane who he was now. It was obvious that the two beds that looked like they were slept on only recently were Finland and Sweden's, of course… Neither of them had thought of even making their beds when they left, they left in a hurry after all, whereas he knew that Norway and Iceland were leaving and that they had nicely tidied up their rooms. Sometimes he found himself leaning against the door frame of one of the rooms, staring blankly at what had been inside, memories playing in his head, how he'd often fight with Sweden and how he'd often got mocked by Norway, the feeling was nostalgic and it made him long back to those times where they would often sit together as a happy family, when things weren't so shitty and when they could actually stand each other.
The Dane was about to make his way passed the living room when the chair and the basket caught his eye, sweet memories passing through his mind like a slide show. He remembered everything, the scent of crispy wood in the winter as the fire in the fireplace nipped and licked at the dry logs he and Norway had chopped several days before the event that was taking place in his head. How Sweden was sitting on the couch, concentrating on his knitting, making scarves for everyone, how he was sitting in his chair, watching the Swede work with interest whereas Iceland was helping Finland prepare dinner and Norway was searching the Christmas decorations. He had genuinely smiled down at the taller blond, despite how much they hated each other, that very moment they were at peace and Denmark had appreciated it just as much as the other had. Iceland entered the living room, holding a tray with five mugs filled with hot chocolate and whipped cream added on top of it with cocoa decorating the white cream. Fifteen minutes passed, Sweden had finished a deep red scarf and a blue one, Finland had brought them their dinner, plain but still delicious chicken soup while Norway had gotten the Christmas decorations off the attic with Iceland. They had all sat there, enjoying their meal, appreciating one of the rare moments of peace as they made small talks, all a smile on their face, even Sverige and Norge.
Sighing heavily, the blond shook his head, trying to get the memories he longed for to repeat themselves out of his mind, failing horribly. He missed them, all of them, but mostly he missed the one he fought most with, hated most and yet also loved most out of all the nations gathered in his house. Right, he shouldn't be thinking of this while his bladder was about to burst, so the man quickly hurried off to the toilet, unzipping his pants and relieving himself of his need. When he was done, he flushed, washed his hands and made his way to the kitchen, feeling the need to drink a hot cup of chocolate, however he decided against it and simply got himself a bottle of strong beer that would hopefully ease his mind. From kitchen he could hear the waves clashing against the rocks, he pulled the door open and stepped outside in the fresh night sky, a soft breeze brushing over his skin as he rested his arms on the balustrade, another heavy sigh escaping the male as he closed his eyes, bottle of beer still in his hand. He leaned back, taking a big swing of his beer, the alcohol heating his rapidly cooling body, but he was used to the cold. It didn't take him long to pull out the small package that held his cigarettes out of his pocket, immediately lighting one. He thought for what seemed like eternity, every now and then taking a long drag or swing from his cig and beer. The alcohol slowly starting to work on his nerve system. Somewhere far away he could hear the wolves cry into the night, the sirens sing their song of seduction, but Denmark was not one to be fooled by that. Slowly he moved away from the balustrade, going back inside, only to be greeted by the warm image of them all in his kitchen, looking up, greeting him before going back to whatever they were doing. The blond knew it was an illusion though, something created by his own mind as if it wanted to play tricks on him.
Denmark placed the empty bottle on the draining board before he took a candle from one of the cupboards, glad that the moon was bright enough to illuminate the room enough for him to also find a lightener. He lit the candle before making his way back to his study, noticing that the first candle he'd used had burned out, just as he expected. He sighed, replacing the old candle before he went back to writing, the clock showing that it was a quarter before four. Yet he wasn't tired, if anything the alcohol had woken him up and although a light buzz was in his head, he still continued his letter. He was going to finish it this morning and post it later so that Sweden would get it fast.
Sverige, I know that you're probably thinking something along those cliché lines; What is this guy thinking? Why the hell is he suddenly seeking contact? Well, of course this letter is going to explain you that, and maybe it's a little dumb, and maybe I shouldn't have written it, however I'd like to get some thing straight… ~Danmark
I miss you… And the rest. You have no clue how lonely it gets with you gone, the house feels so empty, so cold as if I'm waiting for all of you to return to my doorstep, waiting for you to come back and make things like they used to be, however I know this will never happen. I'm guessing you're happy now, with Finland by your side. I heard you two even adopted a son, England's little brother? How convenient. I hope things will turn out good for you.
Odd, isn't it? Something like this coming from me, mean old Danmark who wouldn't stop hating you? The big, bad wolf who would always hunt you down, chase you, capture you and eventually lose you. I wish things could have gone differently, that we'd be able to have lived in peace so that no one would've had to go, but I guess my childish believes and wishes will never come true… You've all flown out and here I am, stuck with my broken wings, it's hard for me to fly, but I'll try and one day I won't need you anymore, I'll be able to forget about those painfully heartbreaking memories, that I can change what has been left untouched. Remember the night you left with Finland? The room you had has never been touched ever since.
This isn't everything I want to say though, because all the feelings I want to pour out, I can't do that in this letter, I can't show you how much it hurts, a letter doesn't show you that and if anything you can just be thinking this all is bullshit.
I want you to know though, that despite everything… I have and I will always care for you. Everything I did that has hurt either one of us in the progress has only been done to keep myself from losing you, you are probably the only one to keep me sane, I'm sure you wouldn't believe my words, but these words come from my heart, and I can entrust you these words, I can say them without hesitation, however I can't say them without fearing the worst, but I will anyway. Jeg elsker dig, I always have, I always will, even if I never seemed to show it, even if my words were rough, ever since we were children this feeling has always been so strong and until you left I had managed to deny it all, I regret doing so, I regret everything that might have hurt you in any way possible. I know you won't forgive me, I don't blame you for it either, but I want you to know this, even if it is one-sided. Well then, now you know and I have nothing more to say.
By the time Denmark had finished his letter, it was five in the morning, he was tired and longed for his bed. The sun had started to creep up, slowly enchanting the room with it's morning glow, bringing the candle that before had done that to shame. A tired yawn escaped the drained man as he stood up once again, his back and ass sore from sitting in the same position too long and his hand in pain from all the writing. He looked at the floor, all the paper scattered there was all he noticed, it was a lot and he was going to need to clean that up later, but first the letter. He needed to send that, but he knew that if he did it by mail, it'd arrive late, plus he also knew Tino knew what his handwriting looked like, and he'd rather not scare the poor guy by sending his lover a letter. Berwald wouldn't appreciate it one bit and then it also came to his mind that he could just simply burn the letter, leaving him with no other option but to face him face to face. He had to if he wanted to be understood, if he wanted to tell his feelings straight away. As sad as it was to him, he would have to shove his pride away for once, but if he would was the question. Of course he would, for this one person he'd do it, if this really as what he thought that it was he would push pride away and simply visit the Swede himself, also meaning he'd get no sleep, another one of those sleepless nights, but he didn't mind it.
Within the next hour the Dane had taken a shower, gotten himself ready to go visit Sweden, somewhat knowing that at a time like this Finland wouldn't even be awake, neither would their little son be awake. He had to hurry though, sure enough they'd wake up soon. The taller blond didn't live too far away from him, thank God, otherwise it would've taken him hours and in probably half an hour the former leader of the Kalmar Union stood in front of a small cottage, just enough for their little family hidden in the woods. He was sure Sweden would be up, after all from what he remembered the three smaller nations would sleep longer than them, they would always chop wood in the morning and take care of other small things, just the two of them. That thought somewhat sticking in his head. What if they would together, just he two of them, no one else to worry about, surely somewhere it would go wrong, because from what Denmark could tell, Sweden hated his guts.
The poor blond sighed heavily as he gulped down the sudden awareness that rose up in him, making him feel sick in the stomach. It was simple, just knock on the door, wait till he'd answer, spill the beans and leave. Easier said than done. He had the courage to knock on the door, but if he'd wait and tell everything on his mind was something he pondered on. Too late though, the door had already opened and Denmark jumped, not because of the person standing there, but simply that the door opened. He could feel eyes burning into him as he tried to avert his gaze, becoming more and more nervous by the minute. He had to say it, he just had to! Once he'd finally caught the taller man's gaze, he let out a shaky breath, trying to find the words he needed, but everything was scrambled in his head as if someone was making scrambled eggs.
"I-I.. S-Sw.. Sverige…" He managed to utter, receiving a glare from the male, that was to be expected, of course and it made him feel more insecure than he had already felt. And that's when he spoke, determined to get what was on his mind out, spilling his heart's contents while the Swede listened carefully, though probably not believing him, but the look in the Dane's eyes was more than enough to convince anyone that he was dead serious, something he wasn't often, until now.
"Sverige… Jeg elsker dig…Altid har og vil altid..."