Scars were a normal part of being a nation. There wasn't many nations who could claim to not have scars covering them, not even the children. Norway knew this, quite well, but sometimes it managed to surprise him how many scars Denmark had on him- and how many scars he chose to ignore.
Denmark's chest was littered with scars- Ugly, twisting burn scars and long, jagged scars. Sometimes, in the quiet, Norway would brush his fingers over the raised skin, Denmark making a small humming noise of acknowledgement.
Norway would lower his fingers, down Denmark's marked hips, sliding over his thighs that bore scars as well. His calves were heavily scarred- Burn and weapon scars. He would hold his wrists, pressing small kisses to the white skin, that Denmark never let anyone see. Sometimes Norway would blame himself for those scars that plagued Denmark's pale skin, as if there was some way that he could have prevented it. In some cases, he knows he could have.
During their nights together, Norway's fingers ran over the bumps in Denmark's skin, knowing the story behind all of them. They were Denmark's battle scars and they told Norway that Denmark will endure.
x
Denmark knew that Norway was also riddled with scars. His scars were fainter than his. During the moments they knew each other best, both of them panting and covered with a sheet of sweat, Denmark would run his fingers down Norway's sides, feeling raised up marks that told stories that Norway would never speak himself. The Dane would press small kisses to the old wounds, whispering apologies that he knew Norway never heard.
He would gently place kisses to Norway's back, where ugly burn scars remained from years not too long ago. Denmark wasn't sure whether the feeling he felt in these moments was anger or guilt, but he ignored them for the feeling of overwhelming affection and - protect - for the smaller nation beneath him.
Denmark knew where every scar on Norway's body was. It was like he charted the stars on Norway's body. There was an event behind all of them, and Denmark knew it. He knew that the scar on Norway's hand was from Iceland when he was little. He knew that the small scar on his chin was from a bad slip out of a ship. He knew that the long jagged scar that reached down Norway's hip was from him being just too damn proud to stand down a fight, even if he was losing.
Still, the scars told him that Norway was still there. If there was no scars, there'd be no Norway- There'd be no Lukas Olsen for him to have these tender moments in the dark with.
x
The scars that their minds held, something that neither of them spoke about, were the most visible to the other. Norway could see the jagged, ripped lines that Denmark carried and Denmark could see the smooth, deep lines that ran through Norway's mind.
When Norway held Denmark, it was like he was trying to make the scars fade. When Denmark smiled at Norway, that smile that he saved only for Noway, he hoped that the ugly marks were fading, even if it was just a tad.
When Denmark drank seemed to only emphasize the scars, making them red- For most people to see. No one spoke of it. When Norway seemed distant, the scars were the most in view.
However, they'd learn that through the hundreds of years that they've been together, each of them adding scars to their collection, that, no matter how many scars the other should acquire, there'd be no scar big enough for them to not love the other.
A/N: WOW. I got this inspiriation from a image on Tumblr that I saw. \ o /
I hoped you all enjoyed my sappy writing!