Copenhagen

14 January, 1814

Denmark had just finished lighting g the last candle when Norway came into the room.

"What is this?" he asked, sounding a bit surprised and a little pleased.

Denmark turned around slowly, surveying his handiwork: lit candles covered almost every flat surface in the room (the exceptions were the bed and the floor); rose petals had been scattered across the bed (dried, but it was winter); the bed was also covered in red satin sheets; fine red wine and two glasses stood on a nearby table. The curtains were closed tightly and the fire was built up, warding against the damp cold of Copenhagen in January.

"Hello, Norge," Denmark replied, stepping over to give Norway a peck on the cheek in greeting.

"I take it that your meeting with Sweden went well, then?"

Denmark didn't want to think about that right now. "Well enough."

"That's good." Norway stepped further into to room, still looking around curiously. He seemed happy, almost, and that alone was enough to make Denmark glad- it had been far too long since Norway had smiled.

"Good. I just got back from Christiania."

"I'm glad you're back. I don't like it when you're away." (If Norway only knew what had happened at the meeting with Sweden, he would have thought this a lie.) "Come, sit down, Norge. You must be tired."

Norway sat down on the edge of the bed, but replied, "Oh, I am not so tired that I cannot partake in your… offerings." He picked up the bottle of wine. "Ah, from France. And a good year, too. I was under the impression that we were bankrupt?"

"I've been saving it."

"Ah, well then." Norway picked up the corkscrew, opened the bottle, and poured two glasses of the rich red liquid. He handed one to Denmark. "What shall we toast to this night?"

"To love. May it stay this strong forever."

Norway smiled, clearly pleased. "You're a hopeless romantic."

Denmark nodded, then sipped his wine. It had been a good year. Now, though, it was quite strong. Perhaps it had been sitting in his wine cellar a bit too long. He sat down next to Norway, who was clearly enjoying the warmth of the candles and the fire, as well as the wine. "How was the crossing over the Skagerrak, Nor?"

"A bit rough and a bit cold, but otherwise, not bad. I've been on rougher passages."

"I worry for you. Maybe I should go with you next time." (An empty promise, in light of the meeting with Sweden, but it kept the conversation going.)

"You don't need to. After all, you've got important work to do here. And if you went, who would look after the children?"

"Nothing is as important as keeping you safe, Nor," he murmured, taking the opportunity to nibble on Norway's ear.

Norway closed his eyes. "It's been too long since we did this, Danmark."

"I can't tell you how much I agree." Denmark plucked the wineglass from Norway's fingers and set both of them on the table.

Denmark studied Norway for a moment- his flushed face, both from warmth and wine, and possibly something else; the way his head was titled to the side, curiously, as if he was wondering what Denmark had planned; his lips, pursed slightly, almost ready to ask what idiotic thing Denmark had thought up, but also curved up ever so slightly -and Denmark wasn't sue anymore. He almost gave up and left, right then and there.

But his didn't. Something made him stay. Was that…trust in Norway's eyes? Perhaps.

He sat back down next to Norway and pulled the smaller man into his lap. He paused for just a second to inhale Norway's scent- coffee, the sea, heather, wine.

"Is this all that is going to happen this evening, Idiot?" Norway sounded bored, a bad sign; he would leave if he remained bored, and that was the last thing Denmark wanted.

Denmark nibbled on his other ear. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"My god, you are an idiot."

Denmark was not hurt by the words; that was Norway's particular brand of affection.

He abandoned his efforts on Norway's ear and focused on something infinitely more kissable: Norway's pert little mouth. Denmark knew that Norway was enjoying this as much as he was when Norway parted his lips- not much, but enough to allow the admission of Denmark's tongue.

Ordinarily, it would have been a fight for domination, and probably would have ended in a bitten and bloody tongue for someone. This night, though, Norway seemed to sense Denmark's need for romance, so he merely melted into the kiss.

However, something surfaced in the back of his mind. "Danmark, d-did you *mmm* remember to *mh* lock the door?" he asked breathlessly into the kiss.

Denmark pulled away slightly. "No, sorry."

Norway slid out of his lap. "I'd say don't worry about it, but Faroes is rather nosy."

Denmark smiled wryly as he went to lock the door. "I'm sure she'll grow out of it."

When he turned around, he was greeted by the sight of Norway tossing stocking and shirt into the nearest corner of the room.

"I could have helped you with those if you had asked, Norge."

"You can help me with my trousers. They're a bit tight, I'm afraid."

Denmark hid a smile. This was a side of Norway he had rarely seen, and possibly, it was his favorite side.

As Denmark walked back to the bed, he removed his own vest and shirt. Was it just him, or was it getting a bit hot in the bedroom?

Norway was sprawled across the pillows with an amused expression on his face. "You look the same as you did the first time."

"I've picked up a few more scars."

"Yes, but other than that…" Norway shook his head. "You are still very handsome."

"And you are still very beautiful," Denmark whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his stockings off.

"Men aren't beautiful, Idiot."

"But you are, love."

Norway glared, but Denmark could tell that he secretly enjoyed the compliment from the way he flushed.

Denmark kissed both of Norway's cheeks and his nose, while his hands roamed moving further down his chest and back, pausing to caress smooth scar tissue.

Their mouths were pressed together again, and each time Denmark found another scar, Norway shuddered gently and his breath caught, though not enough to break the kiss.

When Denmark had left the meeting with Sweden, his intent had been to lavish all of his attention on Norway; to make love to him. Like they used to have, not like the sex they could only have once a week or so, in order to give their injuries time to heal. He wanted to show Norway how much he loved him.

And Denmark still planned on doing that.

Gently, he pulled away from Norway. Norway opened his eyes and looked confused.

"I'm going to make love to you, to your entire body," he whispered in flawless Norwegian.

Norway's face flushed even darker- apparently, being spoken to in his own language was a turn-on for Norway. Still, he nodded once and slid into a laying position. (He also didn't trust his own voice, it seemed.)

Denmark began paying more attention to the rest of Norway's body- his lithe, beautiful body - with his mouth. Starting at Norway's neck, he worked his way down, kissing, nipping, licking, pausing at each scar to pay a little extra attention to it. As he did so, he remembered the history behind each and every scar.

An old arrow wound in Norway's left shoulder made him let out small, strangled sounds. They were beautiful to Denmark; they were the sound of Norway coming completely undone at the seams, and that was a beautiful thing.

Denmark had not quite reached Norway's belly button when two very cold hands began tracing Denmark's own scars. Smiling slightly (that was Norway all over: always impatient and annoyed by everything Denmark did), he caught Norway's wrists and, with one hand, gently pinned them to the bed above Norway's head.

"No, Lukas. This is all about you tonight. I want you to sit back and enjoy," he murmured.

Norway glared, but without conviction. He left his arms where they were even after Denmark had let go.

Administering one last lingering kiss to an old spear wound on the right side of Norway's abdomen, he gently, turned the smaller man over and repeated the same process on his back. There were more scars there, or perhaps they were merely larger, but either way, it took longer to caress, to kiss, every single one and, by doing so, somehow make it better.

Judging by the shivers that ran up and down Norway's spine, he was enjoying Denmark's ministrations. Truth be told, Denmark was enjoying himself; Norway had a beautiful body, with soft skin that was so immensely kissable.

However, Denmark realized that it was time to stop merely teasing (albeit in a very loving manner) when he noticed that Norway was involuntarily trying to strangle a pillow. In fact, his entire body had started trembling with pent-up desire.

Gentle as ever, he rolled Norway over again. In this state, he was so pliable in Denmark's hands…He had to admit that it was incredibly sexy.

He sat back on his heels. Confusion sparked in Norway's eyes, half-lidded as they were.

"Danmark?" It was the first word that he'd heard out of Norway's mouth in quite a while, though not the first sound.

Denmark pressed a soft kiss into Norway's mouth, then hopped off the bed in search of something he thought he'd put on the table earlier. Apparently, he had not, so he had to go look for it. A moment later, he found it (it had rolled under the bed) and climbed back onto the bad, settling himself between Norway's thighs.

"Lukas, love, I think you know what happens next. Is that alright with you?"

Interest and lust sparked in Norway's eyes as he nodded.

Denmark did not need to look at the fastenings on the front of Norway's trousers' (he was rather familiar with them, after all) to undo them, so while one hand worked on that, Denmark kissed Norway's surprisingly responsive mouth.

Once the fastenings were undone, Denmark pulled Norway's pants off. He now saw why Norway had complained about too-tight trousers earlier.

Come to think of it, Denmark had a similar problem.

Well, that would be taken care of soon enough.

Using the contents of the item he had retrieved from under the bed (it was a bottle of oil), he slicked his fingers very thoroughly; it was important that Norway not be hurt at all.

Carefully, he slid one finger into Norway's entrance. Norway gasped slightly at the unexpected intrusion, but a moment later, Denmark judged he was ready for another finger. Norway was so relaxed and pliant; Denmark shortly added a third finger. He splayed his fingers, meeting little resistance. Perhaps the wine had been more off that he thought…

When Norway was ready, Denmark removed his fingers. On impulse, he decided to make the already impatient Norway wait just a little longer. He lifted one of Norway's long, pliant legs and, starting at the knee, began trailing soft, teasing kisses up his inner thigh. More of those beautiful sounds began spilling from Norway's throat: whimpers, moans, gasps. His hips bucked upwards, clearly a demand for Denmark to stop teasing. (It seemed the only demand Norway could give, as words had abandoned him.) (Denmark secretly bet that Sweden had never managed to get such a reaction out of Norway.)

Denmark wasn't quite finished; he had Norway's other leg, after all. He switched legs, though, a bit quicker that he intended. This was meant to be pleasurable for Norway, after all.

Well, no matter, Denmark finished Norway's other leg in good time. One last gentle kiss and he set it back down on the bed.

He then proceeded to wriggle out of his own trousers, which had become increasingly uncomfortable over the last several minutes. Once removed, he threw them into a random corner of the room.

Picking up the small bottle of oil that still sat next to him, he poured a bit more of the contents into his hand. He slicked himself up and realized what effect the very long tease had had on him. He really needed to release and soon…

Slowly, he pushed into Lukas's entrance, listening to the other man's breathy "oh-ooh" as he did so.

Norway reached up and pulled Denmark's face down so he could kiss him, and also, it seemed, demand that he move. Norway needed this as much as, if not more that, Denmark did.

One hand cupping Norway's head and the other gently stroking Norway's 'problem', Denmark began to move. Not fast, but then, he didn't need to be fast; he knew exactly where Norway's 'sweet spot' was. He could (and did) hit it with every thrust.

Norway seemed extremely close: his back was arched so that he could be closer to Denmark, one hand was gripping the sheets with almost feral intensity, and a string of muttered curses spilled from his lips.

A few expert thrusts, a few expert strokes later, and Norway released, spilling a warm sticky fluid across both their abdomens. Denmark released just a moment later, the force of Norway's orgasm enough to send him over the edge into his own.

He rolled off the limp, exhausted Norway, giving him a quick kiss as he went. He climbed off the bed and returned a moment later, holding a warm, damp towel. Gently, he cleaned Norway up, then himself, removing the traces of semen from their abdomens and legs.

The whole time, Norway watched him, eyes half-lidded and filled with a post-orgasmic haze. He was so vulnerable in this state; all Denmark wanted to do was wrap him up in a giant hug and cuddle him until the world ended.

He would have to tell Norway about the meeting with Sweden. But not now.

They would spend tonight together, as in love as ever.

But first, the candles. He began putting out the candles one-by-one. Why had he used so many? It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but this was going to take forever…

"What are you doing?" Norway asked lazily. Denmark turned to see him watching him curiously and a little amused.

"Putting out the candles…" What did it look like he was doing? "We don't want the house to burn down."

"Come back to bed. I'm cold." So demanding…

"But-"

"I'll take care of it."

With an offer like that, Denmark could not refuse. He crawled back into bed, wrapping Norway up in his arms.

Norway lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. All of the candles went out, leaving only the fire in the fireplace to light the room.

"How did you do that?" Denmark murmured.

"Do you believe in magic?" Norway asked in a tone that Denmark hadn't heard in a long time, one that suggested Norway was pleased, satisfied, happy.

"Sometimes." Denmark caught Norway's mouth with his own, kissing him gently.

Norway sighed in contentment, then rested his head against Denmark's chest. In moments, he was asleep.

It wasn't long until Denmark was also asleep.

The next morning, Norway woke, feeling good.

It shouldn't have been such a surprise, but it was. Feeling this good waking up after making love with Denmark…that hadn't happened since before 1523.

He tried to stretch, cat-like, but discovered that Denmark was still snuggled up next to him. Norway couldn't move without waking him. Not a bad thing; Norway was feeling lazy, and that gave him an excuse to stay in bed.

Denmark stirred. "G'mornin', Lukas."

The use of his human name sent a shiver down Norway's back. Between nations, that was an intimate gesture; Norway didn't think that many countries even knew his.

"Good morning."

Denmark nuzzled Norway's neck lazily. "You know I love you, right?"

"How could I not, after last night?" Thinking about it sent a wave of pleasure through Norway's body. "It's about time you found a good use for your mouth."

Denmark traced an old scar on the back of Norway's neck. "Always so kind in the morning, Lukas."

"I'm not a morning person. I don't have to be nice."

"Hogwash." Denmark's voice had not changed from a low, mellow tone during this entire exchange. Norway loved that tone; it was so much better than the loud obnoxious Denmark he usually had to deal with.

"You were so affectionate last night."

"You enjoyed it, didn't you?" Denmark asked while nibbling Norway's ear.

Norway nodded once, shivering as his ear caught on Denmark's teeth. It wasn't painful. "What was the occasion?"

Denmark's body stiffened and he sighed. He untangled himself from Norway and pushed himself up on one arm. "Lukas, you must promise me that you won't be upset, or -or angry, or-"

Norway raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "I'll feel how I like, thank you." With a quick burst of motion, Norway was now straddling Denmark's hips, and was using his hands to pin the other man's shoulders back onto the bed. "And this morning, I'm feeling impatient. Out with it."

Denmark sat up (not an easy task, but he was stronger that Norway) and pulled Norway closer, wrapping arms around his waist. Instinctively, Norway wrapped his legs around the Dane's waist and draped his arms about his heck, resting his head on the Dane's shoulder.

"It's amazing that we still fit together after all these years," Denmark murmured.

"No, it's destiny. We were meant to be together."

Denmark smiled sadly at that. If only that were true. He licked his dry lips. "Lukas, you know that I love you."

"Yes." Norway seemed a bit impatient.

"And you know that I would do anything to keep you safe."

"What is this about, Danmark?" Norway pulled back gently so he could look into Denmark's eyes. He'd lost the impatient tone and had adopted one that was uncharacteristically gentle. Perhaps he had noticed the tears welling up in Denmark's eyes.

Denmark swallowed. "The meeting with Sweden yesterday. Do you know where it was?"

Norway thought back. "Kiel, wasn't it?"

Denmark nodded. "We signed a treaty, the Treaty of Kiel. Sweden gave me some land in the south, but at a price. He demanded something from me, something I didn't think I'd ever part with…" His voice broke as tears started running down his face.

Gently, Norway kissed them away, murmuring comforting words. It couldn't be that bad… "What did that bastard demand, Magnus?"

Denmark said something, but it was too quiet for Norway to hear.

"What did you say, love?"

"H-he demanded that I-I give you t-to h-him."

Norway felt his blood run cold. "What did you do?" he asked, abandoning the gentle tone.

"I said yes…"

Norway pulled away from Denmark, climbed out of the bed, and started throwing clothes on. He had to get out of this betrayer's house…

"That's really low, Denmark, even for you."

"I don't know what you expected me to do, Norge. We're bankrupt and I can't protect you anymore. I thought-"

"I highly doubt that." Norway finished buttoning his shirt and began hastily stuffing the hem into his trousers.

"I have to make sure you're safe, Norge. I couldn't live if something happened to you…"

"So you're going to sell me to Sweden? That was a brilliant idea," he murmured sarcastically.

"Norge, please, be reasonable!"

"Be reasonable? Are you asking me to be reasonable? That's really funny, your majesty."

That stung Denmark. Norway never called him that; he still liked to think of them as nearly equal, despite everything that had happened.

Denmark hopped out of the bed and stood in front of Norway, resting one hand on his shoulder and using the other to tilt his chin up.

Tears glimmered in Norway's eyes.

"Don't speak like that, love…"

"I trusted you," Norway spat. "I thought you loved me."

"I do, I do. But I can't protect you anymore. If you being alive means seeing you in someone else's arms, then-"

"It was not just your decision to make. You could've asked me! Not sold me, like property." Tears started making tracks down Norway's face. Denmark moved to wipe them away, but Norway pulled out of his grip. Turning around, he looked for his shoes, and, finding them, pulled them on.

"Look after my children, Denmark, or there'll be Hell to pay." Norway pulled a ring off his ring finger- his wedding band -and set it on the table.

"Wh-where are you going?"

"Christiania, maybe. Somewhere I can find good Norwegian patriots. We'll write a constitution, then I'll be free." He brushed past Denmark, leaving the room.

Denmark didn't -couldn't- follow.

A/N: This does take part in the SKUniverse. However, it can be read as a stand-alone story, and it still makes sense.

But if you have read "The World Conspires Against Us, My Love" (TWCAUML), then this is the thing that Denmark and Norway refer to in their fight in Chapter 21. I said I'd write it, didn't I?

Also, this is the first bit of smut I've ever written. Feedback is much appreciated.