-Centuries Later-
"Denmark! Shut up!" Norway hollered, slamming down his book. "Put on the damn headphones if you want to play electronic drums!"
Denmark's head tufted with his wild blonde hair poked out from the corner of the staircase. "Aw c'mon Norge," he whined, "it's no fun when only I'm hearing the drums!"
"Actually, yes, it is."
I walked out of the kitchen with mugs of hot chocolate, marshmallows adorning the top like soft pink clouds. Sinking down onto the sofa next to my irate, older brother, I offered Norway a mug.
"Lunch'll be ready in a few minutes," I reminded Denmark, who gave me a thumbs up and a wide grin. "We're going over to Sweden's after that. Remember to pack up!" Denmark let out something that sounded like a war cry which I took as a form of consent.
"It still feels weird doesn't it?" I stated after a few minutes of silence. "To wake up every day and not smell Finland's cooking? Or see Sweden reading the paper?"
"Mm," Norway murmured in reply, taking the mug and sipping his hot chocolate, "and you've been cooking for us three ever since." At the last statement he gently ruffled my hair – a gesture of affection that he used once in a while.
"What, you don't like my cooking?" I reflexively put my head on the side of Norway's arm. "Could use more salt at times," came the reply.
Sighing, I laced my fingers with my brother's larger ones.
"Sometimes," I said, "it's better to have less salt in our lives."
When Finland had recovered from his wounds all those years ago, he had immediately moved in with Sweden, who had swiftly secured lodging far away from our house.
Now, we spent every New Years' and Christmas at Sweden's house. We'd still see each other frequently during major world meetings. There would be a permanent scar in Denmark and Sweden's relationship, but they tried hard, and the rest of us didn't mind one bit.
After spending roughly four hours on the train, Norway was very obviously sick of hearing Denmark's rambles of what we'd do when we reached our destination. As the Norwegian described to me "he's like a broken toy that won't shut its damn trap". Throughout the entire ride on the railway, we hadn't eaten a thing – apart from Denmark, who had nearly twenty glasses of orange juice – because we were saving space for Finland's cooking. We had thought that it was a pretty good idea a couple of hours ago, and I had cooked a light lunch. Halfway through the ride, Denmark had stated that he was famished. This earned him a sharp elbow in the side from Norway. When he proclaimed that he was dying of starvation a few minutes after, the frustrated Norwegian had given his ear a sharp twist which shut him up for the rest of the ride.
I remember that the few years after Sweden and Finland had left, the house felt unusually empty. The three of us – Denmark, Norway and I – had to pull our shattered selves together as quickly as we could; if Finland and Sweden could move on, so could we. I grew up quickly after that.
Norway could shop for groceries and manage our financial needs perfectly, but he couldn't cook at all. Denmark was horrible at doing house chores, but kept things running by fixing what needed to be fixed. He once tried to help in reorganizing our shelves, but he always rearranged things in a manner that I couldn't find them afterwards. Naturally, the remaining responsibilities of cooking and daily household chores fell on my shoulders. They weren't too difficult, since I've helped Finland do them before, but I tired easily.
When Denmark was busy, Norway would help me do dusting and folding of clothes; or maybe shovel the yard if there had been heavy snowfall. Normally, Denmark would do the shoveling, but he abandoned the task a while ago. Wading through a meter of snow wasn't fun when we had to attend meetings, and Norway lost one of his boots.
Similarly, when Norway was out, Denmark would help me in the kitchen. He couldn't really cook either, but he dutifully handed me spices, herbs and ingredients when I needed them – but having my oldest brother in the kitchen with me was a double-edged sword – he ate whatever food I left lying around. Once, when I was attempting to make lasagna, Denmark had eaten half of the noodles before I could lay them down into the pan. Afterwards, I had found myself loss for words when Norway inquired on the portion of noodles I had used for the dish. Of course, when the truth came out, Denmark was punished with a swift punch across the face. Despite the fact that Norway abused Denmark on daily basis, Denmark never seemed to bear a grudge. I could only smile worriedly, for it would be troublesome if Denmark's tooth came out or something. It was almost as if I were the older, more sensible one, trying to keep my younger sibling from killing the other one.
In short, I feel like a second Finland sometimes. Shoot me.
But I didn't really mind – Norway had spent all those years comforting me when nobody else recognized my presence. He refused to cry when that was the one thing he really wanted to do, he gave up his food to me when there wasn't any food left, he shared a bed and blanket with me on the coldest, darkest nights of my life.
This was the least I could do to repay all of that.
It had already begun to turn dark by the time we reached Sweden's house, but Finland had left the Christmas lights on the roof.
While I ran up and to hug Finland and Sweden, Norway hung back, unwilling to get into the group-hug that Denmark was going to pull us into. Without words being exchanged, Sweden and Denmark had forgiven each other long ago.
I buried my face into Finland's sweater and caught a hint of the scent of chocolate pudding.
"Group hug! I set up the camera!" The Dane, who was as enthusiastic as ever, had placed a tripod with a digital camera on top in the middle of Sweden's lawn. Tugging one of Sweden's hands and flinging an arm over Finland's shoulders, Denmark pulled them close. As Finland put his hands on my shoulders, I smiled sympathetically at Norway as I watched Denmark yell at him to join us by Finland's side. Even though the Norwegian grumbled, a small smile split across his usual stoic face.
Click
Immediately after the camera flashed, Sweden pulled away from Denmark's grasp and proceeded to walk into the house. "We're going to freeze out here," he stated in a monotone as he gestured for us to enter.
Finland walked in a small skipping motion as he wafted inside the warm house holding my hand. I clutched onto Norway's arm and pulled him along. Denmark was the last to enter. He slung the tripod – with the camera still attached at the top – over his shoulder and walked towards Sweden who held the door for him. From the living room where we had gathered by the fire, I saw my brothers grin and give each other a fist bump that I hadn't seen since when we were children.
After dinner, Denmark insisted that we go out and watch the fireworks when the New Year came.
While we sat in the freezing cold by the river behind Sweden's house, Finland brought us a large blanket. The same large blanket we used when we were young.
"The blanket seems to have grown smaller since we last used it…" Denmark frowned as he failed to cover the right half of his body.
"Maybe it's because you've grown fatter," Norway said sarcastically.
"Norway! Don't talk to your brother like that," Finland reprimanded the nation as he slid in between Sweden and me.
"…"
"Aw c'mon Norge, you know you don't mean that…" Denmark reached out and gently rubbed Norway's back. The other nation scowled and twisted Denmark's arm.
"Are you trying to flirt with me, dougebag?"
"Language! Norway!"
"Um… I don't think we should argue…" (Me)
"I'm not flirting with you Norge. I know you like Iceland –" (Denmark)
"…what." (Me)
"You're a colossal asshole do you know that?" (Norway)
"…keep me out of this…" (Sweden)
"Your big brother supports thy incestuous spirit, Norge!" (Denmark)
"What the hell is with the Shakespeare? And there's no incestuous spirit, or are you just too obsessed with Sweden to admit that you possess it?" (Norway)
"Huh? No way! Sweden only has eyes for Fin." (Denmark)
"Denmark!" (Finland. He's visibly mortified and embarrassed.)
"Sweden, isn't Finland your wife?" (Denmark)
"What incestuous spirit?" (Me)
"You don't need to know, Ice." (Norway)
"Leave me out of this, dammit." (Sweden)
Our argument was disrupted as fireworks abruptly burst into the Prussian blue sky. The flowers of red, orange, green and yellow shone with dazzling light before melting into the background. As I watched a blue firework bloom in the heavens, I couldn't help but think of Norway. Those fireworks felt exactly like us; we all shone our brightest and best, before fading away like the sparks. But when we pulled ourselves back on track, we rocketed up again, sparkling with unmatched brilliance.
Norway gently rested his head against mine.
"You've grown up," he whispered. "I guess you don't need my protection anymore."
"I can protect you now, maybe." I replied softly, nudging my brother with my nose.
"Hey, don't get arrogant just because I told you that you're doing great independently."
"Heh… sorry brother."
...which reminds me...
"Denmark!"
"Huh?" The Dane leant forward to look at me. "Yeah, Ice?"
"I told you my wish, now you're going to tell me yours!"
Denmark looked surprised for a moment, and then the corners of his lips were tugged upwards. Silvery pearls of tears gathered at the corners of his eyes.
A bell from the church somewhere beyond the river was struck, the chime resounded through the place signaling a new year. A new year full of hopes, dreams and wishes. I closed my eyes as the ringing sound filled my heart with warmth as Norway's hand gently closed over mine.
Denmark's words echoed through my mind, harmonizing with the singing bells.
"I wished for perfect peace, Ice. And I'm glad it came true. Yours did too, didn't it? In a way. I guess the threads of fate are more tangled than we thought."
I felt a single tear roll down from my right eye as I gently brushed my lips against Norway's warm cheek; to my surprise, the said nation returned the gesture shyly.
"Happy New Year, you guys."
Seperation of the Kalamar Union - 1523