Chapter Text
“Wh’t d’ you th’nk is g’ing t’ happ’n?”
Sweden was never going to admit it, but Norway could see he was worried. With how his brow was furrowed and his eyes darting over to where Switzerland and Luxemburg were counting the slips of paper on which the nations had just written their answers.
Norway shrugged, feeling the worry gnaw at him despite his forced nonchalance.
“I’m not sure,” He admitted, “It could go either way.”
“I’m sure we’ll win this.” Finland stated confidently, determination shining through his caramel brown eyes, “There’s no way they can send Denmark away.”
“How are you feeling, by the way?” Norway directed this at Denmark, who was continuously eyeing the box with the slips in it.
“How do you think he feels?” Iceland snorts derisively, and Norway feels worn down, “Oh, yay! They’re going to decide my future right now! Yipee, I’m so happy!”
“Shut up.” Norway rolls his eyes at him before looking expectantly at Denmark, “So?”
‘I guess we’ll see,” Denmark signs, a small smile playing on his lips, and maybe Norway gets a little jealous (because how come Iceland made him smile and not Norway?), but he just nods and agrees.
The five of them were seated in a corner of the room, just opposite to where Switzerland and Luxemburg were. It was a really strategic position, according to Norway; they could look at them better than anyone else.
Most of the other nations were actually outside the conference room, drinking coffee and tea, and eating some strange sweets that were apparently special to India (what were they called again? Julbari? Jalebi?) but Norway didn’t care for them. He was more focused on the important things…namely, not throwing up from the anxiety.
He had worked really hard for Denmark, just to see him smile that blinding grin from what seemed like years ago. If it didn’t work…he had no idea what he was going to do. Over the time he spent with Denmark, Norway found that he wasn’t as annoying as usual; once the whole control issue had been removed, Denmark was just as he remembered.
They hadn’t been as close as they once were though, Norway could determine. That unity between the Nordics was going to be hard to recover.
“Anyways,” Iceland was saying, Norway could faintly hear, “I’m pretty sure we’re going to win. I heard some of the others talking outside about their votes. A lot of them said they’d vote for Denmark, so I guess we’ll see.”
Norway snapped to attention at that, throwing Iceland a sharp glance.
“You’re absolutely sure about that?” He raised an eyebrow, trying not to betray the rapid pounding of his heart.
“Yeah, mostly,” Iceland shrugged, looking much calmer than he probably felt (Norway had taught him well), “I think they’re done counting.”
At that, Norway looked to where the counting was happening. Sure enough, Switzerland was stretching while Luxemburg was staring at the box. Unfortunately, neither of the two was easy to read; no matter how much Norway scrutinized them, it seemed that he would need to wait until the results were officially announced.
“I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Norway muttered silently, before taking his leave. It would be embarrassing to say it any louder.
As he walked down the hallway, he briefly thought to himself to hurry up; he wasn’t sure how much time would pass before the session resumed, after all. At the fork between two hallways, he turned left, but froze altogether when he heard voices. It was terribly nosy, but he strained to hear what they were conversing about.
“-I’m sorry.” A voice, distinctly American, was saying with a sad undertone. “I…I never realized-“
“Just let it go, Al,” A voice that also sounded American said back, obviously distressed, “You- it’s not your fault. You weren’t the only one anyway.”
The last part was said rather bitterly, Norway noted, as he tried to place the second voice. Was it an American state, perhaps? No, states and provinces weren’t allowed to official meetings. So, who exactly was it?
“It’s not okay, Mattie!” He heard America protest, “It’s…God, I’m so stupid. I- How has it never occurred to me that I was…that I was hurting you?”
“Shut up,” The other voice hissed, and it finally struck Norway that it was Canada’s voice he was hearing. “Just shut up. It doesn’t matter anymore, okay? I’m used to it anyway. If you really feel bad about it, try and remember I exist once in a while okay?”
Shuffling sounds began and Norway could make out footsteps heading his way. To make it seem less suspicious, he began walking as well, and when he passed by the hallway that the conversers were in, he looked up and locked gazes with the Canadian. His purple-blue eyes had a hint of anger in them, an emotion that Norway never would have guessed the gentle nation possessed.
Canada immediately looked away, before walking past him. Norway, feeling a bit awkward, looked past where he was previously standing to see America standing there, seemingly lost in thought, his face troubled. It wasn’t any of Norway’s business anyway, so he let it go, and turned sharply to go to the bathroom.
Once his bladder was duly emptied, Norway felt a lot better; in other words, he was assured that he wouldn’t urinate in his pants or something equally as mortifying. As he stepped towards the sinks to wash his face, he looked into the mirror, and his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.
Russia was right behind him.
The tall man said nothing, simply stepped forward and began washing his hand in sync with Norway. The Norwegian man felt pressured by this; what was he supposed to say? He and Russia weren’t really on the best of terms at the moment because, maybe, they were leading opposing sides.
It didn’t matter anyway; just as Norway was about to leave, Russia spoke.
“Good fight out there Norway,” His eyes were sincere, “I got the letter, by the way. Also,” He paused,
“This will not leave this room,” He smiled in his trademark fashion, and Norway couldn’t help but gulp, “But I hope Denmark stays. He always compliments my scarf.”
The bulky man brushed past him, and Norway could barely move from the shock. What? But, Russia…he had argued so much, had stooped to the level of degrading Denmark…why would he do that if he wanted him to stay?
Norway didn’t understand.
He returned late to the conference room; everyone was already seated and Luxemburg and Switzerland were already standing at the head of the ovular table. As he slipped into his seat, Finland whispered, “They’re gonna announce the results!”
As if Norway already did not know that, he scoffs, yet he still nods at the warm-eyed man because he knows just how worried the Finn is despite the lack of signs. All the Nordics, even Iceland who was trying his best to look indifferent and Denmark who was openly biting his nails and Sweden who was gripping the arms of his chair a little tighter than normal…all the Nordics felt the anxiety clawing its way through their chests, and most of them were glued to the suspense, barely hanging on.
“As you know,” Germany started, and Norway felt something cold shoot up his chest and speed his heart because it was happening, “In the previous session, the members of this conference have cast their vote for two options: to retain Denmark as a fellowman or to dislodge him from his position as a representative nation. Luxemburg and Switzerland have counted the votes more than thrice, in order to ensure that no miscount occurs.”
He nodded at the two aforementioned nations, who parroted his motion before stepping forward. Luxemburg’s cool silver hair glinted in the fluorescent lighting in the room, and Switzerland’s appeared a stark contrast with its golden sheen. From where he sat, Norway could see the intensity of the smaller nation’s teal-blue eyes as they scanned the sheet of paper that Switzerland held in his right hand, as his left was holding a rifle. Norway was too anxious to care about the potential gunfire like he usually would, so focused on Luxemburg and, more importantly, the piece of paper that meant everything.
“Ve have counted the votes,” The lesser known albino spoke clearly and, normally, Norway would have been mentally taking notes to make his public speaking skills stronger. Right now, however…now, Norway really wanted to hear the result. Would he be able to Heimlich the words out of him? - it was a very tempting thought.
Thankfully, Luxemburg wasted no more time:
“It is very narrow, but with the votes being 100 in favor and 96 against, Mathias Kohler would retain his right to represent the Kingdom of Denmark.”
That was all Norway could hear; he could see Luxemburg’s mouth moving, could see Germany take up his position at the head of the table again, could see Finland’s teary, relieved eyes, could make out the imperceptible relaxation of Sweden’s shoulders, could see everything, but not really see it. All he could focus on was the warm clammy grip on his hand that tightened to the point of bruising at the news. He hesitantly squeezed back, not used to something so close but unwilling to give up the high that their victory brought.
After Germany dismissed the meeting, Norway and Denmark were flooded by people, most of the offering their congratulations and best wishes for the future. A part of Norway couldn’t help but snidely compare the event to something akin a wedding, but he squashed it down. Now was not the time for this.
Looking over at the Dane, Norway frowned when he noticed he was tiring, if the exhaustion in his stance was anything to go by. Perhaps it was time to retire to their rooms.
Just then, he realized that America had shouldered his way to them, eyes sparkling in excitement. Upon further inspection, Norway could see a melancholy lurking around in the baby blue of the superpower’s eyes, but made no comment due to his strangely fair mood.
“Yay! You won!” America beamed at Denmark, making the exhausted man grin back. “I knew you guys could do it!”
“Yes,” Norway agreed politely, ducking out of the way as several nations stumbled past, their limbs flying everywhere, “How are things going on with your brother?”
Okay, so maybe he commented. He could not help it though, it was staring him in the face! Yet, he felt a little remorse looking at how the grin slid off the American’s face at the mention of his northern neighbor.
“Ah, well…” He rubbed the back of his neck looking decidedly uncomfortable, the complete opposite of what one would expect, “I’ll talk to him...after the meeting.”
“Right, of course.” Norway tensed as he spotted a large mass moving towards them, “I didn’t mean to pry. Anyhow, we had better get going now; Denmark’s feeling quite tired, am I right Denmark?”
The Dane frowned at him, obviously wanting to tell him (or sign him?) off, but Norway tried his best to convey the message using his eyes: ‘Russia. Coming. Kill. You?’
Denmark obviously seemed to have gotten the gist, saying nothing but, in fact, shouldering past Norway and America to greet the tall man. Denmark looked like a dwarf next to the Russian and he, by no means, was small.
“What the hell?” He heard America mutter beside him, and was inclined to agree to the sentiment. What in the hell indeed.
Pushing down his innate fear, Norway stepped forward to help Denmark. His mind flashed back to the break, the Russian man’s words floating back at him.
‘I hope Denmark stays. He always compliments my scarf.’
He relaxed a little. Russia couldn’t pull anything in a room filled with nations anyway.
“Hello.” The innocent-faced man smiled serenely. “My sister wishes to extend her congratulations on the win.”
Denmark grinned at Norway, who couldn’t keep his face from mirroring the action. The Dane had always been contagious like that.
“Thank you.” Norway nodded, “We appreciate it.”
He had no idea which of the two sisters Russia was talking about, but it had to have been Ukraine; the gentle nation seemed much more likely than Belarus, who would probably wanting to skin Denmark (and Norway) alive. It was no secret that the siblings’ dynamics were…different.
“No problem, da?” Russia smiled, before waving good bye to Denmark and leaving. Norway thought he was being too nice (read: creepy) while Denmark just shrugged.
‘He’s not that different Norge.’ He signed, looking the tiniest bit upset, ‘Everyone misjudges him.’
Norway only delivered his own shrug to that because- what was he supposed to say? ‘Oh no Denmark, I don’t approve of your friend choices like a control freak?’
He preferred to keep silent.
By the time they finally made it back to their room, Norway felt dead on the inside. While it was nice that Denmark could still…well, be Denmark, the number of nations they had to speak to was overwhelming. He couldn’t help but sigh as he flopped onto his bed.
“You’re happy, aren’t you Denmark?” He forced his head to turn to the side where Denmark lay, on his own bed. “We won.”
‘Yeah, we did.’ The Dane signed back, ‘It’s amazing. Thank you so much for helping me, Norge.’
“Nonsense,” Norway murmured, blinking languidly, eyes slipping shut of their own accord. “We’re…family.”
He was out like a light.
SIX months later saw the Nordics gathered together in Denmark’s living room. Norway had never been for the Christmas spirit, but he didn’t protest when he was asked to come. Well, not much anyway. He couldn’t help his travelling gaze; he could still remember, clear as day, the sight that had met him when he stepped into Denmark’s house, after months of self-isolation. It had been so dark, so dreary, so…not Denmark. Now, though, it was brighter.
Streamers decorated the room, looping around antiques that Denmark liked to hang up on his walls, ending near the corner where the Christmas tree sat. It wasn’t, by any means, a particularly large or special tree, but heaps of Christmas decorations had been piled onto it, courtesy of Denmark, Iceland and Sealand: the finishing touch was the golden star that appeared to be drowning while trying to reach for the skies. Not exactly a pleasant thought, Norway knew, but that was what it was.
A pleasant aroma drifted in from the kitchen, and Norway’s mouth watered (oh sweet potatoes). He quickly took a sip of his now cool tea, wincing when he accidently took too large a gulp. Beside him, Finland gave a sympathetic smile from behind his mug of coffee.
“D’ner’s re’dy!” He heard Sweden shout from the kitchen, and Denmark bounded out, eyes sparkling with happiness. Norway remembered the first time he had visited Sweden’s house, after Finland moved in; he was extremely shocked to find that Finland absolutely could not cook. He had expected quite the opposite, but at least the Finnish man didn’t deny it, unlike England.
The six of them took their places at the ancient table, talking and laughing cheerfully. Norway would never admit it, but it was truly a heartwarming sight (not that he’d need to, because his wide smile said it all, really).
He met Denmark’s eyes from across the table, and smiled sincerely; they were not sure if the Dane could ever speak again, but there was still the slight hope, the doctor had said. Yet, as Norway passed Denmark the mashed potatoes, he found he didn’t mind the silence anymore. As long as Denmark was happy, nothing mattered.