"I apologise. I am late," said Denmark softly, his fingers still upon the smooth wood panelling of the door. He could see his opponents had been waiting for some time. England was looking straight at him, their last meeting echoing dimly in his eyes. Sweden, on the other hand, was looking away. Edmund Bourke along with count Gustaf of Wetterstedt had already given their respective nations the schemes and plans, scripts almost. After all, the nation meeting was more or less symbolic and though the countries could kid themselves into thinking they changed the outcome, they didn't and the decision and consensus (or lack thereof) was predestined by their diplomats.

Dragging his gloved fingertips across the lacquered surface of the door and letting it shut softly Denmark crossed the room and took his seat. Shuffled his papers in an attempt to busy his hands, sighed and lifted his eyes.

"So," England was first to speak up, seeing as his Nordic counterparts were silent. "We have gathered here to discuss the current… situation in Europe, yes?"

Sweden nodded and folded his arms over the surface of the table. The sun was high in the sky and broke through the tulle curtains as the heavier velvet dark burgundy fabric was pulled back. One window was open and a gentle breeze broke through, it was a necessity as all three nations were dressed in heavy ceremonial garb. They themselves have long since ceased to see the reason behind the carnival their official meetings had to be, after all they'd known each other for centuries.

"Wonderful. Now then, as we all know… the French noncompliance is coming to the pathetic end it is bound to meet. The sixth coalition, my partners, Prussia and Austria, Spain and Portugal, Russia, and Sweden here, we are holding victory after victory. Rumour has it the French leader shall be in exile on Elba," England said this with a sardonic smile over at Denmark and with barely concealed notes of personal satisfaction; Denmark suspected that England was imagining a different face instead of his, and he couldn't blame him, for if he had triumphed over France and he was bound to be in high spirits for the next half century at least.

"You, my friend, have most regrettably been in alliance with… "he paused to pick his words, "the losing side, and now, you shall have to pay the price. But it is compensation in its essence, for the trouble you've caused us."

England seemed to be itching to say something scathing; Sweden remained silent, and Denmark warily eyed them both.

"I've hardly participated," he pointed out quietly, "and I've lost money, do you not think I've paid enough? It's going to take me some time to get back on my feet without you restricting me further."

"Regrettable, as I said." England did not have the decency to look remorseful, or maybe it was better that way, Denmark had gotten bored of the lies the 'better mannered' nations told.

"So, speaking on behalf of my ally, Sweden," England continued almost lazily, Denmark puzzled over why Sweden couldn't speak for himself but quickly threw it out of mind, "we ask that you cede Norway to the Kingdom of Sweden."

Denmark gritted his teeth together, it was not a surprise but it burned his ears and blurred his vision. He felt possessive, maybe greedy and very much like a cornered animal. England's cutting drawl was now matched with Sweden's steely glare as they stared at him, and waited.

"No." he breathed, mentally shredding his papers that clearly told him to do otherwise, in Bourke's handwriting.

"No?" England arched his eyebrows, but seemed deviously pleased nonetheless. "Actually, that leads me to the thought, why has he not shown up. It concerns him most, really."

"I speak for both of us," said Denmark icily.

England nodded mockingly and the corners of his lips tugged up. "On what grounds?"

"On the grounds of our marriage," said the Dane not missing a beat, "and I will ask you to respect our union."

"Which is crumbling," England pointed out. "Nothing lasts forever, my friend. And fret not, Sweden has generously offered you a share in Swedish Pomerania for your troubles, all you have to do is cooperate, we know you've made a mistake, happens to everyone."

Denmark wanted to spit then, back in his Viking days he would have. "No. This union is over four centuries old. It can't be broken so easily."

He didn't need Swedish Pomerania, not in the slightest, and Sweden making it look like a trade was almost offensive.

"Huh. You should see someone new, if you ask me. Four centuries is a long, long time. Even for us," said England smoothly, and lit a hand rolled cigarette.

"I don't see why I'm even talking to you, England!" growled Denmark in exasperation, "You've no part in this!"

"I look out for my allies. And it seems I'm leading the world in punishing those wrecking chaos. Be it you, France, Spain (who was actually on our side this time, but I've got other bones to pick with him,) or whoever it might be. Century after century." said the Englishman smugly, self-righteousness overflowing to the brink. He took a slow satisfied drag on the cigarette and held it in for a moment.

"Talk t'me th'n, D'nmark." Sweden said in a soft, low rumble, a distant storm gathering behind the wall of his expressionless façade.

"And talk we shall," murmured Denmark and his gaze flickered toward his fellow Nordic. "Let's start with why the hell do you do this to me?!" he said, his voice rose steadily as he spoke and ended on a high note.

"Getting personal, huh," England muttered to himself and sat back, letting the smoke drift past his lips and into the air, it was a relief for him, he didn't actually like talking all that much (especially now, when frankly he wasn't all that interested, due to the lack of personal gain.)

"Way it is," said Sweden, not betraying even a hint of an expression, "You cede Norge or I c'ntinue the attack on your co'ntry."

Denmark's eyes widened and he exhaled loudly. "We have a ceasefire!"

"T'mp'rary," said Sweden and almost smiled, it had been a while since he saw Denmark angry, or helpless, and now with the mixture of both on the Dane's face he was satisfied.

"So you're threatening me with more war?!"

The Swede nodded.

"I'll fight back!" hissed Denmark, boring into his opponent with eyes the colour of stormy northern seas. Unfortunately for Denmark the eyes that tormented him reflected the same waters, although at a treacherous calm.

"You're bankrupt. You're not in any position to stand your ground now," said England lightly, as if sweet-talking a child, "and it's no secret that you don't stand a chance against the Swedish forces."

Denmark weighted his words, it was a deafeningly sound argument and the reason Denmark was in this mess.

"I'm not letting you have Norge," he mumbled, the knot in his throat growing tighter.

"Denmark, you aren't being reasonable," England said, almost gently, "a smaller kingdom is easier to run, you still have Iceland, Greenland and the Faroes in your control, you won't be lonely," he murmured, before his voice grew even more tentative, "and has Norway ever given you anything but grief? What would he do if he were given the choice, to give you away or risk another war? Actually, must we go so far? It's obvious why you didn't bring him, Denmark… he wants to leave you, and you knew it."

"He's mine…" Denmark said stubbornly, his voice a barely audible croak.

"Then you should prepare to spill some of his blood, while simultaneously being bled dry by Sweden," the island nation pointed out.

"Norge w'll break aw'y fr'm you wheth'r you like it or n't," Sweden agreed, the intensity of his gaze never faltering.

Denmark's fingers stiffened around the quill, his eyes focused on one spot but barely seeing anything. He wasn't sure what England or Sweden said next, he wasn't listening. He could feel the onset of a migraine as the tip of the quill touched the paper, each scare and creak magnified a thousand times until it was deafening. As he signed, the air felt heavy and dense to breathe in. He stood up and read the cruel statement, his voice numb but strong and emotionless. He was an empire. A dying empire perhaps, a weak empire, but an empire nonetheless.

"I, the Kingdom of Denmark, henceforth cede the Kingdom of Norway, its land, finances and military and the right to the Norwegian throne to the Kingdom of Sweden, irrevocably and forever."

It was three in the morning when Denmark handed Sweden the parchment, and Norway.

Has it been a year yet? Oh, I really don't know :P I'm sorry this took a while, I'll try to be more responsible with it. Sweden speak is hard to write, so bear with my attempt. Oh and the 'irrevocably and forever' bit was a real statement, a bit melodamatic if you ask me so I used it ^^ Anyway, thank you to anyone reading, leaving reviews and again I'll try to update more, I missed this story.

Acid