Author: Cyhirae
Edited: Lumineux

Disclaimer: Hetalia, the characters and the songs referenced are not mine or Lumineux's; they belong to their respective creators. We just borrowed them for this dark little story.

Reconstruction had begun on the city the week following the votes. A few surviving Norwegian architects had revealed themselves to help in the planning; doing all they could to make it properly theirs as opposed to a Danish city inhabited by Norwegian refugees.

Norway had taken to lingering there to watch the construction happen; and above all, hoping to find someone who had begun to take charge of his people. But Denmark's meticulous planning was plain to see. There would be Norwegian representatives in various positions, of course; but the final say laid with Denmark's boss and government.

Semi-Autonomy; essentially a glorified mayorship for the current 'leader'. Norway hadn't even bothered to meet the person; they were a figurehead and little else. They themselves had little desire to be much else during this time of rebuilding. But…his people were becoming more content, more hopeful. He should be grateful for that…and he was, he truly was. The pain and chaos of only a few months ago felt more like a nightmare than something that had truly happened for him and for them.

If the cycle held true, the later generations would curse them for it. But what more could he do?

Hands settled on his shoulders from behind, then slipped around to draw him back from the window as Denmark announced his arrival with a light kiss against Norway's hair. They stood there for a few moments as the smaller nation continued to observe his people's claiming of this place…and Denmark observed his reactions to what he saw.

There hadn't been another argument since the one; Denmark had done his best to be patient and considerate of Norway's health and instability. Just as he'd thought, as his people had settled and began to rebuild themselves in the city, Norway had calmed. He no longer pushed Denmark away or made insane demands such as being left on his own in the mad house Europe had become.

This was the Norway he knew; the one he had spent four hundred years and more with. He wouldn't be so careless as to lose him again now that he'd been given this second chance.

He pulled Norway closer to him, arms tightening as he leaned to brush his lips against the other's neck gently; there was still no attempt to break free or stop him, though there was little encouragement either. The silence remained unbroken as he pulled Norway further from the window, then turned him to face him.

The two studied each other in silent reflection for a time before Norway felt Denmark's hand slip under his chin, tilting his head upward as the other leaned down again to place a kiss against his lips. It was almost hesitant at first as the taller nation waited for some sign of refusal. Norway stiffened a moment, nearly pushing away; but as one of Denmark's arms circled around his back to tug him closer, the smaller nation simply closed his eyes in resignation.

He didn't hate Denmark; he never had. He was a damned fool and presumptive to the extreme…but he had always meant well. He was never going to understand, no matter how carefully or concisely Norway tried to explain it.

Not when doing the 'right thing' got him everything he wanted. And there simply wasn't enough will left to fight in Norway care anymore. He had fought already; first in the war, then to escape Denmark…

There simply wasn't any point to fighting anymore.

Denmark deepened the kiss as he felt the resistance that had begun to stiffen Norway's back fade. He slid his hand down from Norway's chin to brush against his throat, then began to slowly work the buttons of the shirt open. His other hand slipped under the shirt from behind and trailed lazily along his back and spine…

The scars any nation inevitably acquired were rough beneath his fingers, but there were so many more than he remembered. He never should have let go; if the Union had never been broken, these newer scars never would have taken hold. Not in so great a number at very least.

"I'm sorry, Norge…" The words were murmured gently as he pulled back and the shirt was sent to the floor; winter pale skin showed far too clearly every scar the wars had left to Denmark's eyes. "This never should have happened to you..."

He gathered the other nation in his arms then and carried him away from the window, where the light could not so clearly show those terrible scars. He settled Norway against the covers gently, then kissed him lightly against the throat before moving to claim his lips again. Cloth rustled as he sat up to discard his own shirt; scarred as well in the wars but not nearly so terribly as the nation that lay below him.

He had learned to pick his battles rather than fight every one to come his way as Norway did. It left its marks, but none so terrible as what marred the smaller nation. Norway finally raised his hand to a scar on the Dane that was new to him, but plainly old, cutting down across the breastbone and far older than the smaller ones that traced an intricate map over the other. Denmark caught his hand and gently pulled it from where it traced, pressing it up against his lips.

Between them, from a chain about Denmark's neck, an old but well polished ring dangled, glinting in the dim light.

"Danmark…" Norway's voice was quiet; unsteady in a way at the sight of both the scar and the ring. He recognized it; he had worn it ages ago…."You kept that..? I-"

"I never forgot it. I would never let myself forget it." He cut the other off quickly and the scar of the sundering of the last vestiges of the Kalmar Union vanished from sight as Denmark leaned down and kissed him again. He finally had his chance to set that loss right; he wasn't going to squander it now. He wasn't going to remember how the ring had come to rest at his feet, thrown there by an enraged Norway on learning he was to be given to Sweden.

It would never happen again. He wouldn't let it happen.

The shadows of the room deepened as the two nations were truly joined again; outside, the city that would be both Norway's salvation and his cage continued to be built. At last, the work for the day ended and night took the half rebuilt city in its hold even as Denmark kept Norway in his.

At last, the chain was slipped off in the darkness of the room; Norway trembled as he felt the metal they had warmed slip onto his finger again before Denmark's arms wrapped tightly around him to pull him close again. The nights were getting steadily cooler by the day, though it was not yet into autumn…the Dane's presence, at least, was warm and familiar, even after all of this time.

"I've missed you so much, Norge…" The words were murmured gently as Denmark began to drift to sleep, arms drawing about Norway as he spoke. "…I won't lose you again…not to anyone…promise."

Norway waited until the Dane's eyes had closed and his breathing evened out before he replied to that 'promise', feeling the ring on his finger with all the weight of a shackle.

"No…you won't. Not even to me, will you…?" He rested his head against Denmark's shoulder and finally let the tears he had held in place for weeks escape in a shuddering sob. The larger nation's arms tightened around him reflexively at the touch of the cooling air where the tears fell as he let out a contented sigh in his sleep.

And all around him, Norway could hear the sound of the cage's door swinging shut.