Whoever said opposites attract never stayed in a room with the Nordics for longer than an hour.

To describe Denmark and Norway as oil and water would be highly accurate.

If you shook hard enough the two would mix and go together for a while – but soon they would separate once again and refuse contact.

From the very beginning of their lives they had been different. Occasionally you could spot the similarities – the little things that made them brothers. However; usually it was easier to see them as Fire and Ice.

Denmark fought with the strength and vigour of many men. A trashing of limbs, weapons, and grins to make the most hardened war-veteran scared.

Denmark worshipped Thor – and that showed.
Fury, heat, strength and a thirst for battle you only hear about in legends. Just as powerful, loud and frightening as lightening and thunder itself; would he strike with no warning or even cause. Often his attacks seemed erratic and with no thought behind them beyond: let's destroy things because we can.
He'd go into a fight grinning and come out grinning even more. To his allies it was a good sign; a sign of greatness – of hope, pride.

Glory in this life and the afterlife.

To his enemies its only significance was how quickly they would fall.
Splattered in blood, cuts and bruises.
It didn't matter how badly hurt he became himself, he never stopped smiling.

Norway could fight with the same furry – but chose not to.
Instead he'd take a step back and survey the situation before throwing himself into the fray.

Out of all the Gods, Norway favoured Loki.
Just like the shape-shifting god, Norway had a way with words that was hard to match. His voice could be full of authority: commanding many men. Yet it could also be smooth and flowing like silk, wrapping around its victim – completely unaware – and before they knew it they would be doing his bidding.

A silver tongue to match the sapphire blue eyes.

Ensnaring you into his net – almost seductively – yet no one ever got too close.
The very mystique around him made people curious to know more – at any price.

Just like Loki, Norway was always quick to remind his brothers about nature's own powers and how much they truly depended on mother nature herself.

So when it was needed the two could work together – unstoppable like a flood as they would tear across their enemies' land – leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake.

The fear they generated was evident.
"Demons."
"Monsters from the deep."
"Horned and wicked!"
"Emotionless and heartless!"
"Filthy animals."

Everyone had their own story and legend to tell off the Norsemen from the cold lands across the sea. Seldom did these stories speak of anything else but how truly terrifying a meeting with these Viking warriors were.

Denmark was fully aware of his reputation. He'd happily boast and gloat about his spoils of war – never the one to pass down the opportunity to re-tell about his latest adventure.
Yet the Dane didn't always radiate fear to the ones who knew him well. His men followed him because they knew he was a good leader. A man who would not hesitate to help the ones he cared for.

The smile that sent the English running for their lives was not the same smile he bore when sitting around a great table, eating and drinking with his people.
No – that smile would be warm and welcoming.
Like a proud father, eager to hear of his children's' most recent exploration and discoveries.

Norway on the other hand did not often smile.
In many ways his enemies only found this to be even more frightening. Even his own people could find the nation to be cold and rather hard to talk to. It took time and trust to get to know Norway.

Emotionless and cold he would stand at the front lines with his arms crossed as he surveyed the opposing armies.

His men behind – swords, speaks and axes raised and poised. Awaiting the command to rush forward and crush everything in their way.
The second the signal was given it was hard to keep track of where Norway went – he'd disappear into thin air before suddenly appearing in front of his enemy, the occasional satisfied smirk being his victims' last view.

While Denmark didn't care too much about receiving some bruises or broken bones in the heat of the moment – Norway was much more careful.

Every move was calculated with much thought. Norway did not make any unnecessary movements or sporadic decisions in the middle of the field. No; Norway had every single step planned out before he even gave the signal to his men.

Thus; working together only meant certain death.

Norway would somehow calm down Denmark long enough for him to make a battle plan of some sorts, and then, like a starved hell hound, Denmark would be given free reign to attack what Norway suggested he should go at.

The mix between careful calculation and haphazard and non-linear attacks seemed to work perfectly in some odd way. Perhaps it was Tyr himself who guided the two nations as they fought. Hacking and slashing their way though enemy lines till the ground was muddy and soaked in blood.

As Denmark and his men rushed forward to break up their enemies' ranks, Norway and his men would not be far behind to pick out any deserters or cowards.

Or the Danish warriors would occupy the English forces while the Norwegians carefully infiltrated the city/town/caste/monastery and found and took what they needed.
Norway had once talked a petty king into giving him the location of his well-hidden riches. With a voice capable of sounding nothing but trusting it was so easy to get exactly what he wanted from people. Even Denmark sometimes fell victim to Norway's convincing words.

However there was one god they both found strength and comfort from:
Odin.

To Norway Odin was the all knowing father who watched over them all – the one who had given him runes; the one who gave him magic.
Denmark liked his warrior side better. The countless battles he had fought, for not to mention the thirst for travelling and exploring.

The same God held much power and influence over the two nations – albeit in two very different ways.

And even as years, decades and centuries passed one could still see these influences.

Denmark still wore a hammer around his neck.
Norway still had runes tattooed on his back.

Denmark could still be loud and forceful while Norway occasionally did still use his gift of a silver tongue.

The love and pride they still held for their old gods could never wither or fade away completely – it was too much a part of who they were now for that.

Denmark still favoured the colour red – it showed in a lot of his personal belongings. He'd calmed down considerably since his younger days and in a way he resembled Odin's wisdom side more now than before. He still gave it his all in any situation – just not as violently.

And Norway? Norway still managed to incorporate little titbits of his people's old belief even up to the modern age.
Still several people chose to have their dining-silver ware engraved with the midgar serpent and even as new churches where built there was a link back to his Viking days in the buildings themselves. Not to mention how when he first struck oil – the wells and platforms where named after the gods and their realms. Frigg, Frøya, Sleipnir, Åsgard, Ormen-Lange, Vallhall, Balder, Heimdal...the list went on and on.

You could take the sailors away from the sea – but not the sea away from the sailors.

A.N: not particularly historically accurate. I just wanted to somehow compare Norway to Loki and Denmark to Thor due to reading somewhere that those gods where quite well loved/worshipped in the respective countries. And it just made sense in my mind.
And then Pipkin was awesome and spurred this on further (plus she knows like way more about the Norse gods than me. So yeah. takk)