Samle Stumperne Op [Denmark + Norway]

[kit]

Picking up the pieces...
---

December, 1523

His breath came out in harsh, ragged pants.

Denmark had some time earlier managed to drag himself upright, and made his way painfully, slowly, to where he sat now. His precious great axe, Skadi, lay discarded a few feet away, and he reached out to grab it with one hand. The other, he kept pressed hard against the bleeding cut across his stomach, where Sve had gotten in a lucky blow.

The entire first floor of his house was in ruins from their last, their final fight. The staircase banister had collapsed in on itself, furniture was overturned and torn and shredded, and there was broken glass littered everywhere from the destroyed chandelier and - Denmark dragged himself to his feet, and made his way over to the portrait. It had been a beautiful painting of the five of them, Iceland with them on a rare visit. The protective glass was shattered, and the rain blowing in from the open, ornate front double doors was making the paint smear and splotch unflatteringly. He kicked it over.

Mathias was well aware of how he must've looked, with blood matted in his hair, smeared across his face, and he felt like he was drowning in the stuff. Some of it was his own. A lot of it was Sve's. Half-crazed blue eyes darted madly around, gleaming in the low light, taking in the sight before him, and unwilling to come to terms with it. He hated this. Hated that Norway was probably still upstairs, and might see him like this. And he hated Sweden above all else.

"FUCK." He screamed, suddenly, the word making love to the howling wind outside. And he swung Skadi as hard as he could into the nearest wall, where it imbedded itself, and a crack spidered through the wood from the force of the impact. He left the axe where she was, and stumbled to the open doors, where he tilted his headback, and proceeded to howl his pain and outrage to the world.

When he'd exhausted his voice, he settled for crying. New tears joined old tracks as he collapsed onto the porch steps and silently grieved in the rain. The irony of the weather wasn't above him, even in such a state. Of course it was raining. It always rained in situations like this in books, and reality found it funny.

The muddy tracks that Sve and Fin left should have begun at the foot of the porch, but had been long since washed away by the storm. He thought if he squinted, that he could still make out the light of the lantern they'd taken with them, in the far off distance. That maybe he could still run out there, and drag them back like last time. And the time before that. With force, if necessary, and it was every time. But there was nothing out there now. They were really gone this time, and he hated that he'd been powerless to stop them. Hated himself for pushing them this far.

A dull creeping ache from all over reminded him that he should probably treat his wounds, preferably soon, but he couldn't care less. He eventually passed out where he was.

[norway]

There was a strange feeling throughout the household now that Sweden and Finland were no longer a part of it. Every hall and room felt different as he walked through. Norway could swear even footsteps sounded different. He wasn't sure if it sounded like there was more of an echo or less. Maybe each sound hung on the air a little longer. It was hard to tell exactly what it was. It could have even been nothing but the middle sized Nordic's imagination. But if it was, his imagination was very intuitive. It was obvious this house would never be the same.

Norway calmly walked over to the source of the scream, passing by the wreckage around him. He had stayed away long enough. He would like to think it was duty that pulled him to the taller man. He had not left with Sweden and Finland, thus it was still his responsibility to attend to the other. It could be that's all it was. On the exterior, it didn't look like the other man meant much more to him than that. Just a professional ally. Were it true, the sight of him wouldn't have made him pause.

Were he being totally honest with himself, he'd admit the reason his stomach churned at the scene. It wasn't just the blood, the pools fainting color as the rain watered down the consistency. No, it was much more. Denmark was supposed to be strong. It was his job to hold them together and to be the main face that kept the world from daring to attack their home. But he wasn't going to be scaring anyone like this.

The smaller Nordic approached the larger form. ”Idiot, pushing yourself until you pass out. And now who has to carry you back inside? Tousen takk, Danmark,” he said caustically as he inspected the other nation. Even unconscious, his face showed no signs of serenity. There was no trace of that stupid grin. ”Hnn...”

He carried the other man inside, his small frame being no indication of his strength. While he wasn't as powerful as Denmark, the Norwegian was still far from human strength levels. For him, the Dane wasn't that heavy. If anything, the larger body just made him more awkward to hold. Still, necessity made any job possible. He had to set him on the floor temporarily as he moved a sofa upright and then put the other nation upon it. He stared for just a moment before going to get some things to clean the wound.

”Asleep or awake, you're just troublesome,” Norway uttered quietly as he got to work, ”You better wake up soon so I can tell you that...” He wasn't worried about Denmark dying due to this. Even if there was just the two of them and their colonies, they couldn't die. ”And you can't expect I'll clean up all this mess you helped make...” Kalmar Union or not, together they were still safe. ”So wake up.”

Norway placed a hand in Denmark's blood-freckled hair and combed through. There was no doubt about it. This house would never feel the same.

[kit]

Mathias woke up with a pounding headache, a sore throat, and he was drenched and in pain everywhere. He wasn't even close to dying, but fuck, the physical wounds hurt. And the ache in his heart was the worst of them all. He slowly blinked tear-encrusted eyes open, only to almost immediately cover them again with the back of a hand. His other hand clutched uselessly at the material of the...couch? Was that what he was lying on? He refused to think about how he'd gotten there.

He didn't need to see to realize that Norway had patched him up, yet again. He could feel the Norwegian nation running calloused fingers through his hair, and the small comfort made him feel sick. He didn't deserve this. He couldn't help the slow tears that spilled over the side of his face, and hoped in vain that Norway couldn't see.

Mathias had never cried in front of Nils. Never.

When he felt sane enough to speak without destroying something or breaking down again, he managed out, "Why are you still here, Norge." He was thankful for small miracles when his voice came out raspy, but evenly, without betraying any hint of his inner emotional termoil.

"You should go too. When I open my eyes, I want you to be gone, okay?" It was almost a whisper, but still far too loud in the emptiness that was his broken home. Norway should have left with Sweden and Finland. He should have. He really, really should have. He didn't trust himself to not hurt the smaller nation, not after what happened with Sve. Nonetheless, a huge, selfish part of him was obscenely relieved that Norway was still here. He hoped the other wouldn't think less of him for thinking this way. Not that Nils would ever know.

Oh, god. Memories of the carnage flashed like a silent horror motion picture behind closed eyes, and he could feel the bile rise through his throat. Stockholm, the massacre, and he'd lost in the end anyway. He watched Sweden limp through his doorway again, leaning on Finland for support, because he was so hurt he couldn't even walk anymore, trailing a bloody river in his wake.

Denmark almost wished that he couldn't remember.

He suddenly sat up, eyes flying open despite what he'd just said, and was hit hard by a wave of nausea. "Fuck, I think I'm going to be sick." He wanted to puke but nothing came out - he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. The fight had lasted so long, this time. He wound up dry-heaving and coughing up splatters of coagulated blood, his back to Norway because a part of him wanted to believe that if he couldn't see Norge, then maybe Norway couldn't see him. It was stupid, he knew, but he desperately didn't want to watch Norway leave, and if the other had any sense of self-preservation at all, he would do as asked.

[norway]

Cleaning up the wounds didn't take too much time. While they weren't just scratches, they were all in manageable positions. But he hadn't moved after he was done. He simply sat by the couch, petting the unconscious nation and thinking about everything. It was unsettling on so many levels. He had no idea how long the large nation would be like this, but he had time. If he had something to do, he naturally wouldn't have just sat there. The very idea of idly doting on the Dane, wounded or otherwise, was preposterous.

An unmistakable feeling of relief went through him as he saw those eyes open, even if just for a moment. Even with death out of the question, it was still nice to actually see some life. As he remembered who it was he was happy to see moving, he steeled himself. It was a good thing the other wasn't fully lucid, he'd never hear the end of it. Best to just keep those thing to himself... But then everything changed.

The young blonde stared at what was in front of him. Nils had seen a lot of things in his life. He was born under the Northern Lights, he had voyage across a sea southerners barely realized ended and he had seen the almost ancient rivalries of tribes put to rest in order to make room for a larger Union. But seeing Mathias cry was something new. Within the Kalmar Union, crying had almost seemed more like a special ability of children and Tino. To see Mathias doing it... That was really something and as cruel as Nils could be sometimes, it wasn't a pleasant experience.

He never considered answering that question out loud. How could he when he wasn't sure himself? He had options here. He could probably use this opening to simply go back to his own home. Denmark would be distracted with Sweden and the colonies still had more of a connection to him than the Dane. Surely it would work. But his body didn't budge. It stayed where it was, minus his hand which retreated back to his side. Even when he was given an invitation to leave, he didn't move. It seemed he truly was a fool.

He recoiled when Denmark sprang up, his own warrior reflexes kicking in a little. His gag reflexes were next in line as he saw the reason for the movement. He should have expected that would happen.

Nils got onto his knees, not quite sure what to say or do. ”If I wanted to go, I'd be gone and you'd still be coloring the snow red.” He had made his decision freely. He chose Denmark over Sweden. ”If you don't want me here, you'll have to throw me out or deal with it,” he mock challenged. There was no way Denmark didn't really want him here. Not with all the commotion he usually made.

He paused before taking Denmark's hand. He held it with both of his. With Denmark in this condition, it was hard not to pity him.”So what's it going to be?”

(Sorry it's later than I said ;A; )

[kit]

”So what's it going to be?”

Denmark wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, when Norway took his hand, and he knew that neither would become of him in such a tender moment. The unexpected kindness surprised him, but he was too tired to question it. He settled for rubbing the heel of his other hand against his eyes, to wipe gunk and drying tears away, and wiped his hand against the torn fabric of his pants. Then he raked his fingers through his hair, grimacing when they got tangled in clump of dried blood.

"That's just like you Norge." He sighed and he smiled slightly to himself. At least some things hadn't changed, and he was relieved beyond belief. "Always so unfair."

"You know I could never do that..." Mathias trailed off into silence. When he'd wound up the courage to do so, he swung both legs off the couch, wincing when they complained at the movement, and pulled himself into a position where he faced Nils, and met the other's eyes.

Shoving all thoughts of Sweden aside for the moment, he focused on what was actually before him. And still with him.

Seriously, he said, "You should know that, if I had a choice, I would never let you go." He half wanted to be angry at Norway, to feel that rush of red and heat that always filled to him when his colonies and allies disobeyed his orders, but it never came. He curled his hands around both of Norway's in a grip so hard that his knuckles were turning white. "That was your only chance to leave, Norge, because there won't be a next time. Because next time, I will chase you down. And I will bring you back or kill you."

The like what I did to Sweden was left unsaid, because what was obvious didn't need to be voiced. He was pretty sure that Norway knew, anyway.

He was being overly dramatic, and stupid, but he felt like he had a right to be. So much crap had happened in the last few days that he didn't have the willpower or patience to force himself to react sensibly or maturely. All he really wanted to do, was take a nice, long shower, and sleep until next year, and dream about everybody being there again when he woke up. It was that or drink himself into a stupor, and destroy some more furniture. Both sounded equally appealing, and he refused to consider how pathetic his thoughts were.

Denmark offered Norway a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes, released the other from his death grip, and tried to lighten the mood by changing the topic. "So, I feel extremely gross." Norway had apparently removed his coat and top to clean and wrap his wounds, but his pants were still clinging to skin in some places, and he wanted a shower. If only to wash his sins from himself.

[norway]

Nils continued looking at the other Nordic as he spoke. Obviously Mathias wasn't completely out of it. His response was something the Dane always told him. It could have been a reflex, but Nils didn't think so. He preferred to think that Mathias was on his way to recovery. Therefore Nils himself didn't have to humor him any more than he usually would. They wouldn't be able to spend any time moping anyway. For his part, he'd try to simulate some normalcy.

He tried to not show any signs of discomfort when his hands were squeezed. The pressure was pretty hard to ignore but he wasn't going to admit that the other man could be accidentally hurting him. If he was sure that the Dane was trying, he would have spoke up. The ultimatum he was presented with was a clue to the taller man's intentions. ”Well since you asked nicely,” he said neutrally as his eyes moved to their hands. He paused for a moment and shook his head. ”I'm not going anywhere,” he reasserted without fully addressing the threatening statement.

Nils could never be sure what went on in that Danish head. He assumed the other man could actually be afraid. Maybe a part of him was too. His people weren't in the best shape, he had needed Denmark and Sweden to help prop him up. Now it was just him and Denmark. Would that really be enough? Even if it was, did he really want to rely so much on just Denmark? 'Luckily' that choice was already made for him. There was no point in worrying about it right now. He probably would be fighting for his life if he tried to leave.

”You look the part too,” he joked at the others expense as he looked up at him, ”But at least you match the house.”. He hadn't taken a lot of time to think about the others multiple hygiene faux pas. There were too many other things to consider, mostly matters which directly affected him. No matter how he felt about the situation in general, a nation's first priority was to figure out how to keep its people alive. Now that he had thought that through, he could worry about other things.

”You might hurt yourself if you try to climb the stairs like that.” It was just a statement, not an offer. Mathias' stuff would be on the second story. Even if he washed up down here, he'd either have to put on his old clothes or parade around nude, neither of which was going to happen. Death threats or not, he wasn't going to let the other man do something like that. His core was bound to be strained no matter how the upward movement was attempted.

[kit]

”Well since you asked nicely...I'm not going anywhere.”

Norway had no idea what he was saying. Denmark replayed the simple statements over and over again in his head, and if Norway said some other useless things after, he had failed to comprehend them.

Since you asked nicely...I'm not going anywhere.

He couldn't help it. Denmark broke into uncontrollable laughter and clutched at himself when the action made his ribs jolt in pain. One gloved hand moved to cover his face. Norway really didn't understand, that Denmark really didn't give a damn what he thought anymore. He hadn't been nice in over eighty years. As far as he was concerned, Norway belonged to him, and unlike Sweden, he knew Norway wasn't strong enough to fight him for independence. Even in this state. Even if he was half-crazy with emotional turmoil and being completely unreasonable. Because Norway wasn't sure of himself, and of his own capabilities, and his insecurities would be Denmark's greatest weapon.

He didn't feel like explaining this to Norway.

When he'd calmed down enough to speak some amount of time later, he said, still grinning madly, "Help me upstairs then?" Except it wasn't really a question or plea. It was an order. It was the way he'd been giving his orders to Sweden passive-aggressively for years under the Kalmar Union, and Sweden was gone now, and he still hadn't learned. He'd winced as soon as the words came out the wrong way, but was far too prideful to correct himself or apologize. Old habits died hard.

He wanted to understand that Norway wasn't Sweden, but it was too hard to trust anyone. He couldn't, anymore. And he probably wouldn't be able to for a long while after this fantastic failure of a union.

They used to be friends.

He could still feel Sweden's blood on him from their last major fight, that was barely even a Swedish victory, even if Norway had cleaned most of it off. That had been a massacre on Denmark's part, and the fight that had nearly cost Sweden his life early on. The Stockholm bloodbath, his people were calling it now. The thought made him want to claw at his skin until he couldn't feel anything anymore. And - good god, he really needed to stop thinking about Sweden.

Also, his new king, Frederick I, couldn't speak Danish. What was up with that.

His thoughts were flowing randomly, and it was all giving him a headache. He needed some time alone to think, except he also really didn't want to. Squeezing his eyes shut briefly, he decided that he'd just wash up, eat something, and sleep for a long, long time. His problems would still be there when he woke up. Norway had better be as well.

Denmark reached out a hand expectantly, for Norway to help him up with.

[norway]

Now that things had stabilized a little, Norway found himself feeling a little tired. It was strange. He hadn't done much today. He reasoned that there was too much going on. His brain wanted today to be over sooner than later and was taking steps to make that happen. But aside from whatever was driving that, he didn't particularly want that. Today was a mess and a half, perhaps one of the least appealing in a long time. But Norway didn't know what tomorrow would bring and he was in no hurry to find out. It could always be worse.

Norway rolled his eyes. ”My pleasure oh great King.” Norway didn't have any intention of living totally subserviently. It would be unacceptable for his desires to be completely ignored in favor of Denmark's. But there was a time for such concerns. He had went through the trouble of taking Denmark inside, he might as well see the job through. Denmark wouldn't be able to help fix the house until he was cleaned up and rested. This was pragmatism. Norway needed Denmark to be upstairs and thus he was willing to aid the process in order to achieve his own goals.

The shorter Nordic moved to help up the taller one. The seemingly difficult task not taking much time. He frowned when it came time to actually get close to Denmark. ”And now you're going to get your mess all over me...” He said that as if their soon to be hygiene was really the most eventful moment of the day. Being covered in someone else's fluids and daily collection of dirt was a lot worse than just dealing with your own. Suddenly he wasn't as sure about actually moving in to help. He reminded himself that there was no other way and placed himself at Denmark's side.

”I'm ready.” Norway was pleased that it'd be easy to punish Denmark for anything he may do or say on the way. Just a quick jolt could have a profound effect. The fool would have to keep that in mind as they moved upstairs. Norway wasn't afraid of him, even if he was still clearly off balance and the usual look in his eyes had been replaced by one a lot less.. shiny. Sweden must have left a pretty big hole. That was to be expected, Norway supposed. It must feel different to lose someone who was nearly an equal partner than what Norway was going through. Maybe there was even more affection there than Norway had believed. He wondered if Sweden had known he would do that.

Then again, why would he care? He was gone and free. Obviously if Denmark had any attachment beyond a master for one of his pets than it wasn't reciprocated. But then, if Denmark did not, then Norway could only assume his own place in the man's mind was similar. He figured it had to be. He'd remember this moment of clarity.

[kit]

King...Norway had called him King. But in the end, kings and men were all the same, right? They all died in the end. He hadn't been called 'King' in a long, long time, because he hadn't been the king of the North for a long time. That was like, way back when England was just a baby nation; when he and Norway and Sweden used to run around terrorizing Europe with crazy stone-age weaponry, and trying to outgrow each other's beards. That was back when he and Sweden were almost, kind of, possibly, friends.

He couldn't help but crack a wry smile at Norway's really strange sense of humor - if that's what that even was. A lifetime of knowing the other Nordic and Denmark still really didn't fully understand Norway. He especially did not understand, at all, why Norway was even still here. But he wasn't about to ask yet, not without a bottle of hard liquor nearby, just in case.

Denmark allowed Norway to slip an arm around him and pull him upright. The vertigo made his exhausted head spin, and he cursed a little before stabilizing himself against his...friend? Ally? Political peer? Possession? He wasn't sure what they were anymore, just the two of them without Sweden. Well, five in reality, but Iceland, Greenland, and Faroe were just children, and they really didn't have a say in anything that mattered. That essentially just left him with Norway, to figure out the future, and take care of everything themselves. And, God, he really hoped the kids were too young to remember this event. It made his heart clench to think that they might possibly hate him.

”I'm ready.” Norway informed him shortly with an unreadable expression, and waited for his go-ahead.

"Then onward, ho!" Denmark replied, thoughts lucid, and heart slowly calming for the first time since he'd woken up. A rude jolt from Norway made him bite his lip in pain, but that quickly morphed into a stifled chuckle. Typical Norway. Things were going to be okay. He just had to keep telling himself that.

Things were going to be okay. Everything was going to be just FINE.

Now if only the raging headache would go away.

The warmth of Norway's body against his side was a furnace in a blizzard, and Denmark was dimly sorry for ruining the other's standard sailor-esque uniform with his grime. He leaned in more than he necessarily needed to, a completely conscientious action, and allowed the other to basically drag him up the stairs.

Somehow or other, they'd made it into the bathroom in one piece, and he detached himself from Norway to get about his business. He still had a torn, bloodied shirt on, his undergarments, and his pants, and realization slowly dawned on him after a few futile attempts to remove his shirt.

Denmark was far, far too sore, and his limbs refused to move properly. He couldn't strip himself, and there was no way he was taking a shower with his clothes on. The obvious solution, was to summon Norway back, to do what he couldn't do for him.

Thankfully Norway hadn't moved far from the bathroom, and Denmark poked his head out the doorway, and called sheepishly, "Uhh, sorry. But I think I'm gonna need some more help here. Norge?"

Almost as soon as the words had slipped out of his mouth, he inwardly cringed. He used to be so strong. What had happened? He'd never asked for help before, only ever demanded it at whim. But now really wasn't the time to be dwelling on the past. He'd done enough of that for a good century in the past few hours, had another session of that planned for later, and he willed the waves of self pity - or was it self loathing? - to go royally fuck themselves.

He hoped that Norway would actually come back and help him. And then, in afterthought, he hoped it wouldn't be awkward. It wouldn't have been the first time they'd seen each other nude, but they were each still private people. He didn't know if he could handle Norway embarrassing him in his current fragile state of mind. He was honestly ashamed enough about the whole situation for both of them.

[norway]

Norway rolled his eyes at the forward command. Even in a time like this Denmark found a way to be goofy. If it wasn't a sign of his returning health Norway would have been annoyed. Okay he was still a bit annoyed. He didn't want to think he was taking this more seriously than Denmark was. The man had never failed to take his own well being into consideration before. Now should be no different. It was the natural way of nations. They considered their own well being first and then branched out to think of another. Norway wouldn't be doing much to help Denmark if he himself had been injured. It didn't make sense. But he gave Denmark a symbol of his discontentment with that jolt.

Denmark's body was so cold. He could remember so many times when he had counted on the Dane to be much warmer than the billowing frost around them. Especially out in the ocean. Their longships had no escape from the elements, you slept on the deck next to the rowers. They had hardly slept as close together as they were now, but you didn't have to be this close to someone to feel their warmth. Some nights Denmark's breath on the back of his head had been enough to help him find sleep. Were he to rely on the other man for that same comfort right now, he'd more than likely freeze. Any heat that Denmark's body was creating would assuredly be needed by its maker.

Norway had to take each stair step by step. He didn't have the same amount of energy he had mustered earlier today. His muscles weren't able to produce quite as prolific of a result. It didn't help that Denmark didn't seem that interested in pulling his own weight. The stairs themselves were just wide enough to accommodate their ascension, it would have been an even more grueling chore if he had to pull Denmark up sideways. It was more style than foresight that had seen this moment through. Then again, few people actually planned on needing to be dragged up their own stairs. Perhaps such an occupational hazard should be accounted for next time.

He was happy to dispose of the other man when they reached the bathroom. He left the room without a word. Norway looked to each end of the hall. Should he wait? Denmark could collapse and he would have no idea if he went too far. What would the point of carrying him up all of those stairs have been if he just left him to flop around on the floor? Clearly staying was the reasonable thing to do. He had started a job and he would finish it. That was what he had been telling himself and it still made sense. If it stopped holding true, he would stop helping. He hunkered down and leaned against the wall.

Before he could drift off into thought, he heard Denmark's voice call for him. How could he need more help? He hadn't heard any thuds and it didn't sound like Denmark was in pain. He slid back into the room to see what the issue was. Looking around the small room, the only problem he could see is that Denmark hadn't started yet. Norway raised an eyebrow, ”What's the problem?” he asked. His mind didn't consider that he could have trouble taking his clothes off, so it tried to find something else that could be causing an issue, but nothing was out of place. Everything should have been fine.

”Did you forget what you came in here for...?” he ventured. The blood loss shouldn't still be affecting him that badly. Denmark seemed bashful about whatever the problem was but Norway still couldn't figure anything else out. His scan of the room stopped on Denmark's face. Norway wasn't used to that expression. He had seen Denmark conflicted before, but this wasn't the same. Norway assumed that meant whatever he needed help with was generally a simple task. It wasn't like Denmark was usually shy about making him do things. He hoped it was easy. He was a bit tired and didn't want to do too much more.

[kit]

Denmark flushed, cheeks blotching an unflattering red against pale skin. He’d one hand grasping the edge of his own shirt in another futile attempt to shove it over his head, and he quickly removed it.

”Did you forget what you came in here for...?”

He could do this. He really could. A shower right now was so much more important than his pride and manly ego. Right? Norway wouldn’t think he was weak. Not Norge.

”No…” He trailed off, eyes looking pointedly away from Norway. ”Could you…?

He couldn’t ask this. Denmark made an incredibly vague gesturing motion towards himself, but it came out an awkward shift of muscle against bone, and he winced at the stiffness again. He sometimes really wished he had a girlfriend or something that could give amazing massages and backrubs. It would have really been appreciated at times like this, when he was so tired he could barely even think, and the only thing keeping him from sleeping for the rest of eternity, was the knowledge that there was blood and gore and stain of wet metal on his skin. He couldn’t bear the thought of bringing such filth to bed with him. He wanted to feel clean again.

It was too bad that no matter how feminine Norge could look, with his small build and slender figure, and that one hairpiece that he always wore, he was also decidedly one-hundred percent male. Which meant that Denmark couldn’t ask awkward favors like for help stripping without feeling completely and utterly emasculated. Norway was a valuable ally and resource, and Denmark needed to know that someone still respected him and liked him. Or feared him. He really couldn’t do this. Maybe he was thinking about it too much, but no matter how he tried to rationalize it, he couldn’t make it okay in his head.

If he couldn’t get his clothes off normally, he could always rip them, right?

Denmark heaved a sigh, and offered a small smile, ”Oh nevermind. Actually…yeah, nevermind. Don’t worry about it Norge. Sorry for making you come back.”

((Sorry! Short post is short, but I couldn't think of anything else to say OTL))

[norway]

Norway watched closely. He was no fool, but whatever it was Denmark wanted was not something obvious. A tad frustrated, he gestured for Denmark to continue his request, but the other man didn't finish nor did he continue looking in Norway's direction. Made it hard

If being honest, Norway would say that he had felt some satisfaction in seeing Denmark weak and injured. This nation had not always been friendly toward him. This nation had killed one of his greatest kings when the man had been vulnerable after a rare defeat from Anglo-Saxon forces. That was hardly the only time the Dane had done something that Norway wouldn't approve of. There were dozens of times. And here he was needing Norway for something. There were times when Norway would have loved to deny him just to see Denmark reach an even lower temperament. He had dreamed of putting Denmark into this type of state before. But right now that was far from his mind.

The satisfaction was muted by much more strong emotions. The sins of the past forgotten momentarily to make room for what should be done today. Nations were too long lived to hold on to grudges forever and in many ways, this was not the Denmark who had killed his king. In similar ways he was not the Norway whose king had been killed. This Norway wouldn't be so cruel to this Denmark even if yesterday's would have loved to and tomorrow's may wish he had. This Norway had to look into the eyes of a nearly broken man and make his decision. He had to decide how he would treat the person who he needed to lean on a little while longer.

He ignored being told he wasn't needed. In his thoughts he had come up with a guess at what was needed. He stepped forward, making the angle sharper. Norway stared neutrally. The only indication of emotion was the coloring of his cheeks, which had grown a lot more rosy. ”Don't be stubborn.” Was he really going to help? It wasn't a regular request. He'd be stripping another man. ”If you ruin those clothes any worse...” Then what? They were ruined anyway. He stopped talking and tried to get Denmark to lower down so he could help. He wasn't tall enough to remove the other man's shirt from a standing position.

Each moment this moved forward made his red cheeks redder. ”Just don't make a big deal out of it.” He instructed, speaking so Denmark wouldn't be able to say something and make it worse. It wasn't a big deal. It was just a favor. ”And don't mention it. Ever.” No reason to. It just went along with the aid he had provided earlier. ”I would have done this if you had fallen into a frozen lake, after all.” Remove the soaking clothes so the body can retain heat. Essential where they lived. He stopped. The pants and anything under them were all that was left. He looked up at Denmark, leaning on his arms, which were on each side of the Dane. ”Almost done...” This... was too much...


(And a year later, I reply. I'm really sorry.. and I'm also sorry about the momentary power play, but I thought it was fitting so we could move on more fluidly. Happy Birthday? ^^" )