Marry Me
II
Sweden led me around the remainder of the guests at the party with little interaction. I smiled lightly and entered small chit chat between the friends and family he introduced me to, paying little heed to the man at my hip. Between people Sweden repeatedly attempted to begin conversation with me which I managed to swiftly ignored in favour of staring at me own shoes or saying my hellos to the guests.
Several of his work colleagues were in attendance (Sweden and his family were all very high end accountants) and I was forced to pretend like I was interested in their business which ranged from Tod and his wife's youngest son digging up half of their garden in search of worms to feed to his new, exotic fish to Marie's cat being overweight.
The only people I was not introduced to were a group of young men of a similar age to Sweden and I stood in the far corner of the room laughing loudly amongst one another.
"M'football fr'nds," Sweden had simply explained. And I would have been quite content to leave the matter there and return to the safety of my own family against the backdrop of gentle string music had I not caught the eye of just one of the group.
If the gentleman, I say gentleman but he was for from one as you'll learn eventually, had not at that precise moment decided to slap one of the others around the side of his head and pull him into a headlock I probably would have missed him entirely and never spent a second thought on the group again. I held no interest in the sport that my future husband so diligently played and followed and fiancée, wife or anything I would not be caught dead near a football pitch unless it was a matter of urgency or grave importance.
From the moment my eyes landed on him I felt my breath hitch, Something I'm quite certain that Sweden saw me do, and myself overcome with a great need to be introduced to these people above all others. He was similar in body to Sweden; tall, handsome… Gods he was handsome, with wild blond hair and a devil's grin smeared across his features as he held the other man under his arm.
My eyesight was never the best but from what I could make out he was easily the best looking man at the party. I could almost hear his laughter alone from across the room- it was filled with joy that comes only from that freedom of youth and for a moment I swore I could feel my lips turning themselves up into a smile for the first time that day.
Determined, I placed a hand on Sweden's bicep to get his attention,
"Sweden, idear/i," I said, putting emphasise on the dear. If he had indeed desired this marriage of his own accord then surely he wouldn't have been able to say no to me, "Don't you think that you should introduce me to your… teammates are they? It would be terribly rude to greet the entirety of the party besides them,"
And it did work. That was the first time I properly spoke to Sweden that night other than the sharp replies I'd been giving to the man before that moment. In an instant I saw his face soften and a happiness return to his features upon address, "Y's," he simply smiled, steering me by my waist towards the group. (I think it may also have been at this point that I decided I didn't like being driven around like a horse by anybody.)
Within moments we had reached the group of males, all between eighteen and thirty, and with it Sweden's grip on my hip had tightened to the point where I was beginning to feel a slight pain. Gently I peeled his hand away. I think he got the message as even though his hand returned back to my body within a second of removal it never once returned to that crushing tightness.
The group calmed as we approached and as I got a better view I learned that my original assumptions were correct, the man was even handsomer up close. As soon as he saw us he'd let go of the other- a small man with large eyebrows and disgruntled look upon his face and grinned broadly. I laughed. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Sweden. And neither did the glare he sent in the man's direction either.
I suppose now would be a good time to mention the reason behind Sweden's behaviour here. See… In my adolescence I was known as what you may refer to today as "an ice queen". I was said by many to be aloof and described by several as having a look that mostly resembled complete boredom even in the most interesting of situations. So… to be laughing at a man I'd never met before at my own engagement party where I'd repeatedly ignored my betrothed wounded his pride a little I would imagine.
But there was something about him that made me feel something close to happiness at that moment in time. It was as though suffering through the entire night had been worth it if not just to meet this one man out of a party of one hundred and fifty.
He was, as I suspected, roughly the same age as Sweden. Standing between the two, and my later experience, I would guess that he was one or two inches shorter than Sweden (which still placed him just over a foot taller than myself) but more or less the same in their body built. He had broad shoulders and arms defined with muscle like Sweden. His eyes were a vibrant blue that sparkled full of excitement and happiness at everything and anything. A strong chin and thick, though nowhere near as thick as the other man's, eyebrows. Along his jaw line were the beginnings of a beard and at his cheeks there were small lines cased by his constant smiling.
"B'ys, th's 's m'wife," I was snapped out of my staring by Sweden's speech and internally something told me to kick him hard in the leg for addressing me as his wife before we were wed. Thankfully I managed to keep my cool, though I did manage to stand on his foot hard enough to make something crack and shoot a glare at him. I opened my mouth to correct him but… somebody else had obviously had the same idea.
"Calm it, Swedey, you've not even set a date yet! 's a bit too earlier to be callin' her names like that yet, an' by that look on that pretty lil' face of hers she doesn't like it one little bit," The man smiled, wild hair shaking as he nodded his head and smiled with every word, "An' she's definitely a cutey, how'd ya manage to steal this one for y'own?"
"D'nmark!" Sweden snapped- for the first time since I'd known him this was the first time I'd seen any sort of irritation between he and another person. I was surprised and oddly amused at the turn the evening had taken, "D'n't t'lk to m'wi-… m'fiancé like th't,"
He laughed.
"Seriously though? How'd ya get a beauty like this on y'arm? I reckon she'd look nicer…" I barely had time to blink, in an instant Sweden's hand was gone and I felt myself being dragged into another man's embrace and pressed flush against his chest, "on mine!"
My face flushed and my heart raced. I had no idea what was happening but… it wasn't bad. To me at least. I could hear, ifeel/i the pounding of blood in my ears as I struggled to keep a straight head. What was happening? I had no idea. The other men in the group laughed loudly and I looked up, only to be met with the face of this man, Denmark, smiling wildly at me and his eyes glistening with playfulness. Up close he was gorgeous. I felt as though the world could crumble around me and nothing else would matter as long as he was still beside me- something I'd never felt for Sweden or any other man.
I remember how he smelled. It was unlike anything I'd ever smelt before and to this day I still can't place it, it was like no mix of scents or anything. It was musky, I remember that much, deep and rich and uniquely him. I guess it was the smell of a man, I'd never been close enough to one, or paying enough attention, in this way to notice before. I regained my composure quick enough, I hope I did at least, and looked back at Sweden.
And if looks could kill Sweden must have already committed murder thrice over.
"Yep! She definitely suits me more, can we trade, Swedey? I'll find ya a nice girl as long as ya give me this one~" Denmark laughed, before ducking out of the way as a fist made its way to his nose. He released me then, to which Sweden grabbed me (with the same annoying tightness as before) and stood for a moment regaining his composure. Looking around I was so thankful that nobody had noticed. Subconsciously I wanted to pry Sweden's hand off of me and run back to Denmark- he was so warm… or maybe that was me. I'd never felt anything like that before, you see.
I realised in an instant that there was no love lost between these two, and in Sweden's case he seemed to downright despise the man. Denmark just looked as though he enjoyed getting Sweden riled up over nothing. I knew he wouldn't have actually touched me (At that moment I thought that way at least) and laughed with them.
I brought a gloved up to my mouth and laughed, eyes crinkling up as my mouth turned upright into a wide grin. When I opened my eyes again the group of men were all chatting happily amongst themselves again, Sweden was looking at me as though I'd gone crazy and Denmark was watching us both with his hands in his pockets and smiling gently.
When it was safe, by his judging, Sweden quickly went around the circle of men (England, France, Germany, Holland, Spain and Denmark) and named their names before giving them mine and departing as fast as he could manage without seeming too rude.
I looked over my shoulder as we left to find Denmark still smiling after us and the elder man, France, giving him a gentle nudging in the ribs before he went back to laughing and play wrestling with the other men.
"' hate th't b'st'rd," Sweden spat as we were out of hearing range, "D'n't 'ver let 'im put 'is 'ands on y'again"
I stayed quiet. Apart from one word; Why?
Sweden didn't answer me. A few latecomers and a talk to Sweden's younger cousin later we separated to talk to our families. But not before he'd made a public show of kissing my lips, something that made my stomach turn in the same fashion it had when I was told of our engagement. When he parted I noticed his eyes glance to the corner where Denmark had been, and no longer was, to make sure he was watching and got the message as to whose I was.
I spoke to Iceland (who was talking to Cousin Mona) only briefly, she sympathised with me greatly, before I excused myself to the bathroom. I made my way down the halls, my heels leaving a dull click behind me as I walked, and ascended the staircase to where the bathroom was located.
"Hey, Norge!" I heard a shout behind me and turned, heart racing at the sound of the voice alone and even fast whence I saw his face. Denmark was standing in the opposite end of the hallway to me, hand in one pocket and the other raised in greeting with a huge smile across his handsome features. I waved back and, I swear my feet carried themselves, walked over to him. "What'cha doin' all the way up here alone?" he asked, leaning over to try and level our heights slightly. I appreciated the gesture for some reason and didn't mind his closeness at all.
Again I felt my cheeks burning up and my stomach knotting itself, not in the way that it did when Sweden had taken my first kiss in front of the packed hall of guests to a round of humiliating applause but… almost pleasantly. Like the knot a stomach gets when you know a favoured relative is visiting soon and you see their car draw up outside.
For the first time I realised that we couldn't be seen- probably a wise choice. I could imagine Sweden's face if he saw us conversing after he'd specifically told me not to.
I leaned against one of the walls and sighed, letting my body collapse lightly. I still don't know why but something told me that I could be my complete self in front of this man, "I needed to get away," I answered honestly. The bathroom could wait but I just needed an escape for the time being.
"Swedey suffocatin' ya?" he smiled and at the look that apparently crossed my face he laughed, "though so. All he's been yapperin' on about at practices is how he had this new wife and how you're this and how you're that and the other," At this point Denmark's voice had begun mimicking Sweden's, something that made me laugh lightly instead of groan like I wanted to, "Surprise engagement I take it?"
I blinked up at him with my face scrunched up, "How did you guess?"
"You didn't look too happy when he was doing the rounds in there. Or when he called you his wife. Or when he touched you. Or when he kissed you," He stopped and kissed the air at this point and I had to cover my face to hide my displeasure at the memory, "thought so. So how's it feel being the future Mrs. Grumpy?"
"Awful," I mumbled under my breath but he heard me. His laughter echoed down the halls and soon he was doubling over, having to use the wall behind me for support. And for the first time I noticed that his hair was tied at the back into a small, spiked ponytail in an attempt to tame it. I wanted to laugh but I couldn't. Not when I realised just exactly how close he was to me.
When he raised himself from his support he still had his hands on the wall, you see… and we were almost chest to chest. His face was hovering just inches away from my own. I realised at this moment the thing that I liked the most about him were his eyes, so bright and revealing- at that moment they were soft and clouded as he smiled gently at me.
Again I felt my chest heave as my heart raced, my breathing became heavy and I felt hot. My stomach knotted itself harder and my legs suddenly gave in. Thankfully he caught me as I collapsed but then we were actually skin to skin. My nose brushed his and I blinked, blood rushing to my face as the sound of my own deafening heart beat blocked out the rest of the world.
"Sweden was right about one thing," he breathed, tilting his head against the crook of my nose,
"…What's that?" I whispered back. I barely had any voice left at this moment.
"You're beautiful."
He kissed me within a matter of seconds, soft lips against my painted ones that straightened out from their smile as they touched.
And I let him.
I placed my hands on his shoulders to hold me up from fainting.
My stomach churned and my hands shook. This was nothing like Sweden's kiss.
His was demanding and forced. Denmark's was gentle and begged me to push him away.
I wouldn't.
But I wouldn't pull him closer either.
His hands rested on my hips as we stood frozen across from the stairwell.
Four hours into my official engagement I had kissed another man.
A man that my fiancée hated.
I regretted nothing.
