Chapter 6: Deprived

How dare you think you deserve me?

Or do you think I deserve you?

Well I don't care, either way,

After all you've put me through.

There had been an unexpected turn in Sverre one day. Nothing too big of course; just little things here and there. He didn't even realize it himself as it was happening. He was aware that most of his mind was set to losing weight, exercising and eating less; none of these things had appealed to him earlier, right now he would just brush it off as some stupid idea that had gotten to him, nothing of importance. He wasn't completely daft as to not notice that. Even Denmark would have seen if he had been there, not that the Norwegian was wishing for the idiot to be there.

By a sheer stroke of luck, Sweden hadn't noticed. Of course, it wasn't that hard to understand, as the already icy front between the two countries had become near arctic over the time. It was quite hard to notice things that one weren't present to notice, no matter how much one meddled with the other's business.

However, just because it had gone unnoticed, didn't mean it wasn't there. And it was surprisingly difficult to stop what he was doing. Because as it was, Norway wasn't acting as normal; he wasn't calm and collected, quiet and thoughtful. At any other time, he could have spent hours sitting in the library and reading a book or just have a chat with the creatures in the forest.

Did he sit for hours in a comfy, over-stuffed chair, reading books that took him away to the far out corners of the earth now?

Useless fatty. You can't sit still; you won't lose weight that way.

The only times he, or Ana more like it, allowed himself to read any books now, were if he either walked around the room with the book in his hands or moved otherwise. He would tap his feet against the floor until the muscles in his legs were numb and tingling. Or until Sweden got fed up and threatened to set him out to peel potatoes again if he didn't stop.

He couldn't take some time to the fairies, trolls or huldra, he didn't have time for that anymore. He had to spend his time worrying about how much he weighed, how much he had eaten and how much he had exercised. It probably wasn't the most exciting day, but he had to do it. And his progress was great, he may not know exactly how much, but weight was gone. He had given up on most of the things he enjoyed for- for this.

And he was happy, wasn't he? This was all he needed; some weight off his humongous body. To fit his short stature at least, if only he could have been as tall as Sweden, maybe he wouldn't look as stubby. And he would be intimidating, of course. That was a plus. Had he been intimidating, he would surely not be in a union right now, or better yet, maybe he would be the bigger of the two and the king would be Norwegian... He could dream at least, a little bit. No one could deny him that.

Dreaming. Hoping and wishing for something better. Not for himself anymore, for his people, for his country and all those who suffered just because he couldn't defend himself, they were weak and pathetic. He had been a Viking, a proud Viking nation, conquering lands and areas, much bigger than he would ever get. He had even found a little brother, he had found Vinland but he had slipped away.

Where was he now? Sitting in a cold room in nowhere, Sweden. Alone and defeated, completely harmless; stripped of all will to fight anymore. He probably couldn't pick up one of his old swords anymore either, his arms were too weak and fragile. Robbed of his honour and his own will, bound to a place he had never wanted to be. Blast the reasons, forget about the causes. He didn't want this, he was sick and tired of this. Norway was no dog, to be tied to a pole day in and day out, patiently waiting for its master to feed and care for him.

A breaking point was near, that much was clear. There would be no more unions. No more sicknesses, no more deaths and wars. Not when he didn't want to. Norway would not let anyone use his people, his land for their own good. It was time, it was Norway's time again, he wanted to prosper and there were a stirring in his heart that spurred him on him going. His people were complaining, they were tired too, enough of this union.

But no one wants to be lonely, do they? Not completely, not for the rest of their pitiful existence. Not even Norway, the cold, emotionless and seemingly arrogant and people hating thing. A thing, he couldn't even call himself a man, he was a country, had been, and was trying to be. Look where he had ended up, starving in a huge, antique, elaborately decorated and overly pompous mansion, bustling with content servants and happy people. Smiles and laughter, jobs being done, papers signed, countries run.

Only miserable little Sverre sitting in his miserable, cold and dark little room; a blanket wrapped around him as he can't even seem to bother getting into bed but stays by his place next to the window where he can see the forest, his friends and family. Closed off now, be it intentionally or by accident. He didn't belong anywhere anymore; he was just there, trying to defy Sweden in the most stupid and childish way possible.

"My mind has deluded me..." a pale flush spread out over the cold window glass as small, almost silent words were whispered from pale, thin lips, barely moving. "I don't know what it wants anymore." The dull, hopeless, blue eyes closed as they had many times, lingering as pale brows knit together and a grimace marred the ghastly pale face. "Why can't I just me free?"

Stop complaining now, get off that seat and move around again.

Move around, move around. Tired feet dragging against the ground.

-Norwegian Boredom-

"Yah lo'k horribl', go p't som' other cloth's on."

"No, n't that one; use 'nother jack't."

"'t's too big 'n yah, D'nmark would th'nk I wasn't f'eding yah prop'rly."

Hah, I actually found that one somewhat funny.

"What w're yah think'ng? Yah l'ok like a stabl' boy."

I might as well be one, at least I'd have something to do.

"Y'ur hair 's brittl', m'ybe y'u shouldn't show'r as much."

"Yah weren't at d'nner t'night."

"Eat."

"Eat."

"Eat."

Words, sentences, accusations; thrown around the mansion in the days before Denmark would actually visit. Sweden would become increasingly irritable; the tiniest little thing could get him off so everyone knew to stay far away from him. Norway was especially good at it. One would think that the Norwegian had learned to recognize the other's footsteps, for as soon as the taller blond would come any closer than two rooms away, Norway would vanish as if in thin air.

This behaviour, this hide and seek game was grating on Sweden's nerves too. Not only would the one person that clashed with him the worst coming to visit, but his other companion was treating him as if he was the plague. It wasn't like he was going to explode on him either: Norway may have been good at keeping a cool face but Sweden was just as capable of keeping his calm when the situation called for it.

It was only a matter of pure luck that no-one blew up in the days before the, by now infamous Dane, announced his arrival. He was surprisingly anonymous even as he came in a simple horse carriage by his own, paid the driver before any of the residents of the Swedish household could have any time to react, and taken some light baggage to the door; for once waiting until someone would open the door for him.

However, it didn't last too long before the ever impatient side of the Dane was shown once again as he knocked once, twice, three times before he decided 'to hell with the formalities, this is Sweden we're talking about' and threw open the door with an exited shout. "Norge, I'm here!"

Denmark must have expected something like a grand entrance, maybe a few maids throwing flower petals by his side to emphasize his greatness. What he got was an empty entrance hall and some surprisingly dusty paintings adding to rather strange atmosphere.

Mathias stepped onto the clean floor, dirtying it as he always forgot to take his boots off at first, or at least clean them before stepping inside. The baggage he had brought with him was dropped on the floor carelessly.

"Ey, Sweden! Where are you?" Any formalities were thrown out the window, why would Denmark care anyway when the Swede had been rude enough not to open for him when he had actually been kind enough to knock.

Suddenly there was a crash a little further into the house, followed by a series of muffled, rapid conversation between two people the Dane couldn't quite identify. Puzzled by this, Denmark started walking towards the noises that seemed to increase in volume as the conversation turned to an argument. There was a faint memory in the back of Denmark's mind that told him the noises came from the dining room.

Since the fight didn't seem to be coming to an end anyway, Denmark came up with the idea of just walking into the room and announcing his presence. By doing this, the other two individuals would of course forget whatever they were so upset about and come running to him, the king! Former one at least, Denmark's glory days seemed to be coming to a slow end.

Well, no use in dwelling in those thoughts now, this was the time of his grand entrance anyway. Just a quick check on his clothes and brushing his wild hair back and then Denmark drew in a deep breath and pushed the double doors open to reveal... ?

Two happy nations so very happy to see their Danish friend; the argument quickly forgotten and everything was well and fine in the household. They ate a grand meal, laughed and reminisced together before the three of them quietly retired to bed. Of course with a kiss on the cheek from his precious Norway.

... Haha, no.

The sight that met him was very different from the one that he had conjured up in his imagination. The only resemblance would probably have to be the persons as it really were Sweden and Norway arguing. However, the Dane really wasn't too sure if that really was Norway.

Sweden looked as tall and intimidating as ever, the glasses were still the same even if they were a reasonably new touch to his appearance. The frown was still there and this time it was directed at a shorter blond with a glare just as cold and angry as the Swede's.

Norway though... That hardly even looked like him. Bones were sticking out where they definitely shouldn't be, the skin was drawn so taught over it that it looked painful. Not even the hair had the same shine as the last time Denmark had seen him, it had become brittle and dull, looking a lot thinner than before too.

"Norge... What have you done to yourself?"

The silence that followed was almost as crushing as the explosion that came afterwards.