I Don't Know How Long I'll be.
No sooner had Norway sent the man off with his letter to Denmark than Sweden came into his room wanting to speak with him.
Norway didn't face him and tensed as he heard Sweden approach him, he'd mentioned in his letter that Sweden hadn't tried to do anything to him, what he hadn't mention to Denmark, however, was that he wasn't wholly convinced that the Swede wouldn't try something a little more physical than just lingering touches and affirmations that should have been for Finland.
By this little stretch of the truth he knew he'd prevented the Dane from doing something stupid and regrettable.
"Norge, we're leaving son, are ya ready?" Sweden asked in his almost indiscernible, vernacular way of speaking.
"I am, Sverige," he answered quietly and pinned back his hair with his symbolic cross barrette he'd worn for hundreds of years.
Sweden grunted in a way that said "Good" and continued toward him, this was one of those times Sweden would mistake him for Finland. The Swede wrapped his arms around his waist and held him there, "… my Tino…"
"But I'm not—," Norway started but was cut off by Sweden's finger over his mouth.
"Shh," Sweden crooned in a way that made Norway cringe. "Be still, my wife."
What could he do, Sweden was a tormented man, saddened by the loss of his love. But Norway was too; he missed Denmark all the time, so much that he hurt— ached even. So he understood, but he wasn't demented like Sweden into mistaking his enemy's love for his own.
Thus he stood with bated breath, saying nothing and doing nothing, these scenes would only last for a couple minutes but they made him hold his breath, unsure if Sweden would try to take him or not.
"Hurry up, Norway," Sweden said finally, letting go of his waist and leaving the room. Never seeming to remember what he'd done to the Norwegian.
Norway let out his breath and waited for his heart to resume its normal cadence.
Again there were reasons he'd left out Sweden's overly intimate advances in his letter to Denmark. He told himself that it was easier that way. He couldn't, on the other hand, suppress the wave a guilt he felt in deceiving the presumably equally-as-tormented-as-Sweden-if-not-worse Dane.
For now he put it out of his mind and left the room walking down the stairs of Sweden's house out to the front where they would depart.
When all was saw to they started their journey from Stockholm to Helsingborg. The nations mounted their horses and set off to South Sweden.
*And Denmark!*
The Dane finished his letter to Norgie and heeded the advice of Norway and signed it: Love, me.
Still in a state of elation he handed it to the man who'd delivered Norway's letter. Norway's letter was dated three days ago so he and Sweden would be traveling through south-central Sweden right now.
All he had to do for now was get to Helsingør and await more instruction from Norway.
*Norway again*
Three days into their journey the messenger delivered his return letter from the Dane to him while they were traveling through a few small, sleepy villages in central Sweden. Norway quickly concealed it in his cloak to read later when they would stop and make camp for the night; he risked too much reading it now with Sweden so close by.
Norway pulled out a purse of coins and handed it to the man as compensation for his endeavors.
The man took it enthusiastically and rode off to rejoin the other men. Norway would never admit it but he had trouble containing his excitement to read the letter. It would be a while before they made camp for the night though so he had to swallow his happiness and maintain his stoic demeanor so as to not tip Sweden off.
Three hours later as the sun touched the horizon, Sweden stopped the procession and told them they would be resting for the night.
Norway was a little too quick getting off of his horse and setting up his tent, he hoped Sweden didn't notice his haste.
When his tent was all set up he changed his mind about reading the letter in the tent and decided instead to go fishing, far away from the camp, deep in the forest, he wouldn't actually fish of course but he needed an excuse incase he was caught out of the camp.
He also decided to not tell Sweden, lest he insist on sending someone with him, he'd deal with Sweden's anger later.
With his fishing pole in hand and the letter tucked within his boot, he slunk off into the woods toward a lake they'd passed a while back.
Once he got there he threw down his fishing pole and pulled the letter out of his boot dropping to his knees to read it.
His hands shook a little as he opened the letter with far less ado than he knew Denmark had opened his with.
My Norgie,
Norway rolled his eyes at the obviously rushed, messy scrawl that was undoubtedly Denmark's, but smiled at the bit of familiarity he'd not had from the Dane in many years.
You really have no idea how much I miss you, it has been Hell for me these past few years waking up and realizing that you're not next to me and not knowing when and if I'll ever see you again.
The memory of that day haunts me often and knowing that it's my fault does nothing to ease the burden. If you saw me you'd probably hit me, I wouldn't blame you for doing so, what with the mess I managed to make.
As for your idea, I completely agree to it. I'm not in Copenhagen, though, I am on the mainland in Aalborg so I don't know how long it'll take me to get to Helsingør, assuming we're going to carry this out between there and Helsingborg.
I love you and miss you so, so much Norgie. I can't wait to see you again.
Love, MeHe had to smile at the last part of the letter; it was simple and sweet, much like the Dane himself.
What he had to do now was come up with a plan for them to carry out; he hadn't really had any thoughts on it when he sent the first letter to Denmark, planning on, instead working that out when he received word from the Dane.
For now, though, he set himself to what he'd planned to use as a cover, fishing. Figuring he could get an hour or two away from the emotionally disturbed Swede.
One hour later…
Norway stood up and dusted himself off; he'd had no luck in catching anything and the entire time he'd been devising an escape plan for him and Denmark to go off of. He'd had no such luck in that either, so he started back to Sweden's camp.
Right away Sweden was waiting for him with a glare so menacing it could have made the hairs on even the toughest mans neck stand on end, but not Norway, he'd known the Swede too long to be frightened by his death glare.
He met it defiantly with narrowed, but still perpetually blank eyes.
"Vart tog du vägen Norge?" Sweden asked. (Where did you go Norway?)
Norway's eyes flitted to his fishing pole, biting back a witty comeback and instead replying: "Jeg var fiske." (I was fishing.)
If at all possible, Sweden's glare deepened and he grunted a string of, what sounded like difficult-for-Norway-to-understand-because-Swedish-was-not-his-first-language obscenities.
Norway was unfazed and turned from Sweden to start toward his tent.
Sweden didn't follow him or inquire anything further of him so he put it out of his mind.
As he fell into sleep he imagined Denmark smiling his smile and holding him tightly in his arms like he'd done since he and Norway first declared their love toward each other.
A/N: Does anyone else notice that I'm really bad at chapter endings, not bad as in they are horrid bad but bad as in they are just really awkward and don't seem to fit?
Well, I don't now, and frankly I do not care because I can't exactly change it…
Also I'm too lazy to beg for reviews so, interpret that, as you will.
TTFN, (Lol Winnie the Pooh reference, SHUT UP, CLAIRE)
…