#aph noreng

[roran01]

“Get a room! Preferably not MINE.”

[hermannsprecursors]

Hetalia rarepair week day 6

Day 6: Magical and Fantasy | Ghost

Nyo!England x Nyo!Norway

It's not too early for Halloween right guys? Because I got pretty witches hitting the scene today

@hetalia-rarepairweek

[norice-aph]

England/Norway

‘Let’s rock it’

[pvffinsdaisies]

England: I have feelings for you

Norway: I feel the same-

England: …

Norway: …

England: so do you want to do anything about that?

Norway: not really

England: alright, friends?

Norway: friends

[highway-to-helltalia]

Pirates and mermaids au

@hetaliamondaychallenge 

Trigger warnings for drowning and violence, though neither are described in much detail 

When Arthur awoke, he thought he was dead.

His hands brushed against slimy rocks and seaweed, the sloshing of water rung in his ears. The memories came back to him in flashes.

The calm ocean waves suddenly whipping into a storm.

The boat rocking as he clung to the rigging.

The lurch of his stomach as the boat tipped sideways.

Hitting the water as if it was concrete.

The blackness enclosing around him as he sank down in the shadow of the upturned boat.

Ironic, he thought, how he’d always delighted in ghost stories, and now he was destined to become one. Trapped at the bottom of his beloved ocean for eternity.

It was only when he opened his bleary eyes that he realised how wrong he was. Sunlight slipped in through the crusted crack between his eyelids. Lifting his heavy, aching arms, he rubbed his eyes and took a proper look around. He seemed to be in a cave, with light streaming in from the entrance, and the pattern of reflected water dancing on the rocks all around him. Exhausted from even the small movement, he dropped his hand to his side. It splashed into water which was almost level with his body, and he was gripped by momentary panic as he recalled the feeling of his whole body hitting the surface of the ocean.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone was wading through the water towards him, the sunlight bouncing off pale hair. The person approached him, indigo eyes widening in surprise as they met Arthur’s.

“Who are you?” Arthur asked, his voice scratchy and dry. He tried to lift his head, but didn’t have the energy.

The other person didn’t answer, instead taking hold of his arm and inspecting it, perhaps checking for bruises.

“Did you rescue me?”

The man continued to silently inspect his arm.

“I thought I was dead,” he admitted, with a dry chuckle at his own expense. Still, he received no response. He bit his lip, dreaded words forming in the back of his throat, and it took all he had to get them out. “Was there anyone else? Did any of my crew… survive?”

The look he received from the other was enough to tell him the answer.

“Oh fuck…” he whispered, tears pressing against his eyelids, though his eyes were so dry none could fall. Sobs scratched his throat, making him cough. “Can I have a drink of water?”

A hand slipped behind his head, tilting it so he was almost upright. A large seashell was pressed against his lips, and fresh water poured from it into his dry mouth. It wasn’t salty like the seawater, it must have been collected from a spring. His throat ached for him to lap it up as quickly as possible, but the shell was tilted gently so that only a slow trickle of the cool liquid hydrated him. He pulled his head back to get some air and took as short breath, drying out his throat which called for water again. “More,” he whispered through his cracked lips. The shell was pushed towards him, and he gratefully drank from it. When it ran dry, the hand behind his head was removed, and his head fell back onto a cushion of seaweed. “Thank you,” he gasped.

A small hum was all that answered him.

Arthur turned his head to the side, finally taking a good look at his rescuer, and his breath caught in his throat. The man was gorgeous, with white-blond hair curling around his ears and a softness to his features that Arthur rarely saw in the harsh business of seafaring. Still water that covered the surface of the cave reached up to his waist, and drops glistened in his hair and on his bare chest as if he’d recently been submerged. He looked at Arthur with quizzical eyes, blinking slowly with his thick dark lashes.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a noise from outside.

The mysterious man seemed to hear it to, and his head snapped towards the entrance of the cave, eyes widening in panic. He waved a hand, motioning Arthur to stay put – as if he could have moved if he wanted to – and quickly glided through the water out of the cave.

There was something strange about his movements, they seemed too… fluid. But Arthur was too tired to focus on it, and felt his eyes closing as sleep overtook him.

 The next time he woke up, it was to his shoulder being shaken. The man was beside him, holding an old bag which looked like it had been through the wars. Arthur raised an eyebrow, but before he could enquire further the man opened the bag, showing an assortment of berries and leaves. Arthur had never particularly been a fan of vegetables, but his stomach rumbled at the sight of them. He didn’t know how long he’d been unconscious for; he might not have eaten for days.

Finding he finally had the strength, he pushed himself up onto his elbows, and twisted around so his back rested against the wall. The man took a handful of food from the bag, and offered it to Arthur, who took it in his own hands and scoffed it down quickly. It had been a large handful, but he felt like he’d barely taken a bite. The man gingerly placed the bag beside Arthur, and he began to stuff his face so quickly he hardly tasted the bland excuse for a meal. He felt a little self-conscious to be seen eating so ungracefully. Of course, he’d had his fair share of messy tavern meals, but usually then he was half-bladdered and he wasn’t usually being watched by someone who looked so refined and, well, handsome. Arthur glanced up at the man, but he seemed more focused on making ripples in the water with his fingers than looking at the Englishman.

When he’d finished eating, Arthur cleared his throat lightly. The man looked up, his eyes landing on the empty bag, and he nodded, then turned to move out of the cave. Arthur had to admit, he felt a little disheartened that the other would just leave like that. Perhaps he had better things to do with his day than take care of pirates, but Arthur was still thirsty and the water in the cave smelled like seawater so that wouldn’t do much to quench his thirst. His heart lifted when the man paused and picked up something from a rock by the entrance – the shell. As he turned, Arthur thought he saw something glint underwater in the sunlight, and when the man approached him Arthur realised what had been so strange about his movements.

“You’re a merman,” he blurted. The way the man moved so swiftly through the water, as if there was something underneath – say perhaps a tail – pushing him along, was nothing like a human wading. It also explained his unearthly beauty; merfolk were known for seducing pirates with their looks and dragging them into the depths. Arthur couldn’t help but wonder why this one had done the opposite for him.

The merman stopped suddenly, apprehension in his eyes. He looked at Arthur for a long moment, seeming to assess him. A scaly tail, the same deep blue as the depths of the ocean itself, splashed out of the water beside him for a moment.

Arthur nodded with a triumphant smile, and the merman seemed to take this as an invitation to come closer, and pressed the shell into his hands with no more caution than before.

 The merman came to see him every day following that, each time bringing him fresh food and water. Arthur began to notice a warm feeling in his chest every time he saw the merman, and couldn’t help but smile when he noticed the glint of golden locks in the sunlight. He’d long since accepted his attraction to men; though it was looked down on by many people, pirates often weren’t as discriminate about it. He’d had a few flings with crewmates and even enemies, but nothing had ever been serious. Still, he told himself these weren’t real feelings, he was just becoming attached because the merman had shown him such kindness. Of course, it was only expected that he’d feel this way for someone who was nursing him back to health, and obviously he was more excited about the prospect of food than seeing the beautiful merman. Obviously.

Arthur knew the merman could understand him, but whenever he tried to start a conversation, all he received in response were nods and the occasional hum.

For weeks, the only person he saw was the merman. He’d lost count of the days, and in his state he’d probably slept much longer than usual so it was impossible to keep track anyway. That changed on a dark afternoon, when storm clouds were brewing in the small patch of sky he could see through the mouth of the cave, and he heard thunder rumbling in the distance. Thoughts of the terrible night that started all this were plaguing him, and he squeezed his eyes shut as if he could somehow block them out. The splash of water near the entrance caused him to open them; it was a sign that the merman was approaching, though he didn’t usually make so much noise. The first thing he noticed was a glint of red, but he didn’t have time to take in the stranger’s face before he was nearly on top of him.

“Human!” The stranger snarled, baring his many long fangs.

Arthur’s eyes widened and he pressed himself against the wall. He could stand now, and move slowly without it hurting too much, but he wouldn’t be able to fight back for long. Sharp nails dug into his shoulders, making him cry out, but they disappeared almost instantly as the new merman was flung backwards.

“Magnus, stop!” A voice thundered through the cave. Holding onto the intruder was the merman – his merman – and oh gosh he had never looked so heroic or stunning. Arthur’s chest ached, and he was sure it wasn’t just due to exhaustion.

The red-tailed merman – Magnus, apparently – glared at him, but his face was twisted in confusion. “What are you playing at, Even? He’s a human! And he’s in our territory!”

Even bent his head as if in shame, then raised it to glare into the other merman’s eyes. “I brought him here.”

“What?!” Magnus’ voice was high and spiky to match his hair, but here it jumped in pitch, coming out almost as a squeak.

“Look, just… just come outside, I can explain…” Even looked doubtful even of his own words, but after a moment of consideration, Magnus followed him.

Arthur leant back against the wall, his hands clasped against his chest over his racing heart. He could have died. He could tell from just those few moments that Magnus had the strength to rip him apart in seconds. If Even hadn’t been there…

Arthur realised that was the first time he’d heard the merman’s name. He wasn’t sure if it was the name itself, or the person it was associated with, but something about it sounded so beautiful. “Even,” he murmured softly, then huffed a sigh in spite of himself. Gosh, he was such a hopeless romantic, even when his life was in danger.

“He’s a pirate!” Magnus’ voice echoed through the cave. “Pirates hunt us and they kill us, Even!”

Arthur froze for a moment, but when he realised the mermen weren’t returning to the cave but they must be just outside, he waded towards the entrance to listen a little closer to their conversation.

“This one’s different,” Even said softly. “I… I care about him…”

“Oh, right. Fine!” Pain cracked through the fury in Magnus’ voice. “You can stay here with your precious pirate! See if I care!” From the splash of a tail hitting the water, Arthur could tell Magnus was preparing to dive down again.

“Magnus, wait.” Even’s voice was still quiet, but there was something urgent about it. It was almost as scratchy as Arthur’s had been that first day when he’d been so parched he could barely talk. “Please don’t tell anyone about him.”

There was a long moment of silence, in which Arthur’s heart thudded. He didn’t know what would happen if mermaids caught him, but he knew it wouldn’t be nice.

“Only because I don’t want you to be exiled… or worse…” Magnus’ voice was quieter now.

“Thank you…” Even’s voice was barely a whisper, so pained that Arthur could barely hear it.

A few more splashes, then all was quiet. Arthur began to doubt that Even was coming back when he finally swam into the cave again. Along with the film of water that always covered his face, teardrops were spilling down his cheeks. He immediately swam towards Arthur, taking his arm and brushing his fingers over the small cuts in his shoulder. “I’m sorry about that,” he whispered.

Arthur shook his head dismissively, although it made his neck ache. “You saved me,” he said. “Again. Thank you…”

Even shrugged, still examining the cuts.

“Who was that?” Arthur asked.

Even took a few moments to answer. “My best friend. At least… he used to be.” He finally looked away from the injury, but kept his head down as he took Arthur’s arm and guided him over to the seaweed bed.

They sat in silence, watching the water reflected on the walls. “Do you want to talk about it?” Arthur asked after a moment.

Even looked at his hands, lacing his fingers together in his lap. “I’ve known him for as long as I can remember. The other mers used to bully me when we were little, but Magnus always stood up for me… I don’t know what I’ll do without him…” Even’s voice was choked, the tears becoming a waterfall. “He means everything to me.”

“You like him?” Arthur asked. He felt his heart sink.

Even shook his head. “Not like that. People often assume that, but no… I-” He caught himself, pressing his thin lips together, as if he’d been about to say something he shouldn’t.

Arthur looked away from him, his heart beating almost as fast as when he’d been attacked. Even made his feelings so confused, the rich sound of his voice made it impossible to concentrate. “Why have you not spoken to me before?”

Even shrugged. “I figured it was easier. I didn’t want to get too attached, I didn’t want to care about you.”

“But you said you did, out there.”

Even turned away from him, a hand on his own cheek. He almost looked like he was blushing. “Well, I… in the time you��ve been here,” he mumbled through his hand. “I have grown somewhat attached.”

The warm feeling flooded through Arthur’s chest again, and he fought back the smile that was threatening to besmirch his passive face. “Well then, I suppose it would be fair to say that I have grown somewhat attached to you as well.”

Even turned back to him, and the corner of his lips quirked into a small smile.

Arthur’s chest constricted as he suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“Why did you rescue me?”

“I saw you, sinking. I knew that you were a pirate, but I… I could tell you were still alive,” Even didn’t meet his eyes. “I couldn’t just leave someone to die.”

“How could I repay you?” he asked.

“You don’t have to,” Even assured him. “I was just doing the right thing. I would’ve done it for anyone.”

“Yes…” Arthur murmured. That was it, the thing that had been in the back of his mind since they’d met. Even didn’t know anything about him, only that he was a pirate, but he had still saved his life and looked after him for weeks. It wasn’t because there was anything special about Arthur, it was because Even would have done it for anyone, because he had the kindest heart of anyone Arthur had ever met. In that moment, Arthur realised his feelings for Even weren’t something that could be ignored. He was in love. “Perhaps if I…” he started slowly. “Perhaps if I kissed you…” He tried to sound nonchalant, but the full weight of his feelings were clear in his thick voice.

Even stared at him with an unreadable expression, anxiety building in Arthur’s chest with every passing second. Eventually, the smile reappeared on his face. “I think I would consider that sufficient repayment.”

Arthur brushed his thumb against Even’s cheek, and leaned closer to him. Even closed his eyes as his lips connected with Arthur’s, they had the same salty taste as seawater. It was fitting, Arthur supposed, that someone who loved the sea so much would fall for one from waves.

[fireandspiceland]

The polyship bitch has been summoned.

Fruknoreng interests me quite a bit because we have France and two (mostly)emotionally reserved nations, who both can do magic. Plus Norway and England probably would both usually be topped but they have no problem topping France, and he doesn't mind either.

Also there will be so many tender moments because lOOK AT THESE 3 AAAAAAAAAAAa

The magic party here is what I completely forgot about so thank for reminding me of it because now I’m thinking about that ‘my hot which girlfriend sacrificing me 🥰‘ meme. but it’s France splayed out on the floor naked surrounded by candles and england and Norway kneeling at his sides in their cloaks and with their spell books. France is in for a good time here.

Tender moments yesss 🥺🥺🥺 fruk or would work really well on an emotional level. They can bring the best out of each other. and have great sex. 💖

[just-an-artist-that-exists]

been thinking about @kuzco-kin ‘s old hetalia blogs,,,

[ssuckitlosers]

Have you ever considered EngNor?

Hmmm, I wont lie I haven’t thought of this ship too much solely because I love a bit of angst and this ship gives me such fluffy domestic vibes.

Aww though it must be such a cute ship. I swear if it’s angsty I will not be pleased.

Imagine them casual talking about magical creatures with no one to make fun of them for it and these two would just get each other so wellllll.

The most angst I picture this ship having is Arthur slating the fact Lukas chooses coffee over tea.

Wait nvm, for a second I lived in a world where unrequited love fics don’t exist. (Honestly what kind of masochist reads those 💔)

I love a good unrequited but actual required love fic and I feel like that is also a vibe for this ship. Same with pining omg. Pining after their best friend while he’s focused on someone else??? But then they realise what’s been there all along????????? 💖💖💖

Yo that’s the vibe this ship gives me, pining after your friend and it’s unrequited at first but by the end they both realise they’ve been idiots and they’ve been missing out.

I’m rambling again 😂 but I must add that Arthur would be the one to confess.

It still kills me that it’s canon that Lukas sends Arthur a Christmas tree every year for being his friend, like my heart cannot handle that.

[lumassen]

What if aph England was a Scouser?

This came from a conversation on a discord server about what accent people headcanon England to have as we have so many, and as a northerner I like to think he would rock a northern accent. Based off several headcanons that England and Norway are good friends, and that nations move around a lot to avoid being clocked by their citezens for the fact that they don't age, I bring you this random drabble:

-----

It was getting dark by the time Norway finally arrived in the port of Liverpool and stepped off the ship. It had been 5 years at least since he'd seen Arthur, and perhaps 15 or more since he'd last visited England, and since finding out that Arthur was now living in Liverpool he took the opportunity to visit him when he was there on a trip.

Stepping down from the gangway, Norway tightned his scarf a little tighter around himself, the biting cold winter air slipping through any opening in his coat that it could find. Pulling back his glove to check his wristwatch, he noticed they'd got in a little late even though they hadn't really been delayed when they set off from Bergen.

Turning back to the ship for a moment, Norway watched with a small smile as his crew who'd kindly let him come along with them began to unload the large Norwegian Spruce. Since 1942 he'd given a Christmas tree as a gift to the people of England as a token of gratitude for the support they had given him during the second world war, something he would never forget. It started off as a single, 60 or so year old Spruce that was cut down specially and gifted to be put up in Trafalgar Square every year, but in recent years Norway had started gifting a couple more to other cities around the UK, and this year he had one for Durham, Oxford and Liverpool cathedral.

When he was satisfied that his crew didn't need any help, Norway waved a quick goodbye to them before setting off across the docks. He walked slowly at first, admiring the Christmas lights that decorated lamp posts and trees until he spotted England sat on a bench at the end of the docks. Quickening his pace so to not keep him waiting much longer, Norway's smile broadened just a little more. He and England were old friends despite their past differences and conflicts, and Norway had been looking forward to this visit since he found out that England living here.

"Long time no see." He said as he stopped in front of England, who looked up away from his smartphone and put it in his pocket.

"Likewise," he said with a smile, standing up and grasping Norway's hand in a firm, friendly handshake before pulling him in for a hug.

"So, Liverpool eh? I thought you'd be more of a country house in the cotswolds kinda old man by now, so I'm a bit surprised to find you here." Norway teased as they started strolling away from the docks and toward the city centre.

It was the end of November, so despite it being nearly dark it was still only 4pm in the afternoon and the streets were still full of people. For the past few years Norway had been living in the depths of the countryside up in Narvik with more sheep around him than people, so it felt strange yet nice to be surounded by so many people again.

England laughed a little, "Yeah, I fancied living somewhere a little livelier. I was getting a bit fed up in a big drauhty house down south, I found that I always had a proper cob on so I knew I needed to move to somewhere with a bit of atmosphere. I know we shouldn't have favourite citzens, but I've always had a soft spot for the people of Liverpool." he said, and Norway was shocked at how much his accent had changed since the last time he'd seen him.

It happened to most nations who lived among citezens to end up speaking with their accent or dialect, so he wasn't necessarily shocked, just a little taken aback.

Whether it was the fact that his own English skills were a little rusty from living in a rural place where not many of his citezens around him spoke anything but Norwegian or the fact that England's accent had thickened he wasn't sure, but Norway was struggling to keep up with him.

"What abar you? Where you living?"

"Er, Narvik. Been there about 7 years. It's nice." Norway said, with not much else to add. Narvik was Narvik. He went fishing occasionally, but other than that he was either buried in paperwork or eating or sleeping these days.

"Fancy a bevvy while we have a natter? There's a bar close by that's proper sound, you'll love it, and no I won't get bladdered before you say anything." England said as they turned the corner, and Norway quite honestly didn't understand a word that he just said.

"A bevvy?" he repeated, and Arthur turned to look at him and raised a large eyebrow,

"Yeah, a drink. Do you not fancy it?"

Norway blinked a couple of times, trying to get his head around England's changed accent. Sure, he knew that dialects and accents were a common thing, and back in his country he had many unique ones himself, but the way that England was rolling his 'r's and talking from the back of his throat on some words was tough enough to understand without the added slang.

"Sorry, yes I'm happy to have a drink with you." Norway said, a smirk crossing his lips at the fact that England was so oblivious to his change in accent.

They talked about this and that while they walked to the bar, England asked after Denmark and Iceland and they discussed the upcoming football championship until they arrived to a wobbly looking old stone pub nestled among the more modern buildings of the city. One of the things that Norway loved about visiting England was hidden gems such as this, and in summer he loved touring old castles and historical sights with Arthur.

Norway stepped inside as England held the door open for him, relieved to be inside and out of the wind. The smell of beer hit him immediately and he could feel the carpet sticking to the bottom of his shoes.

He spotted an empty table and took a seat, England following him and sitting down opposite, taking his gloves off and stuffing them into the pocket of his leather jacket.

"God it's baltic out there, but I'm proper made up that you've come to visit though. Actually this probably isn't that bad for you is it, now you're living in Narvik." England laughed, rubbing his cold hands together before he stood up again, "Let me get you a bev, back in a tick." he said before pushing his way to the bar.

Norway watched England as he leant on the bar, laughing with the bartender and chatting away and sighed, still not fully understanding what the hell he'd just said. He was pleased though that England was happy and settled in Liverpool. He'd had it rough the past couple of years with the whole Brexit thing which had obviously made him move as a distraction if anything else and Norway was glad to be catching up with an old friend, but had he realised that he would struggle to understand England as much as he was then he might not have suggested staying for a whole week...

------

lol. For those people not from the UK and aren't familiar with a Scouse accent I tried to find a video. The best one I could find is still a bit crappy, but the girl at 0:12 is a prime example of how fast Scousers speak that not even I or the subtitles could keep up with her at first.

Click for the video

this fic is the closest I've ever got to writing a crack fic and this is purely self indulgent im sorry lol

[ifindus]

Don’t you hate when languages do that thing when one word is the same but mean different things?

[norice-aph]

Medieval!AU with viking!Denmark and viking!Norway coming to England to conquer his land. During their invasion Norway gradually fell in love with England and started to protect him from Denmark. However, Norway required to have sex with him as a compensation for protection of England.

[fireandiceland]

#how about rival witches/wizards England and norway#Francis promises both of them the child and they both come to collect the child who is matthew#they fight over him until they do like a divorced parent thingy woth half the week to one and half to the other#but matthew likes both if his papas alot so he asks if they can live together for a bit#they agree and raise matthew and teach him him to do magic#and he is very good at it#especially charms and potions and they are just proud parents#basically a reverse divorce

@magictrio1118 oh my god I love this I'm sorry but have to save this 👀

one trope i absolutely must see more of is enemies-to-accidental-adoptive-co-parents

[pvffinsdaisies]

Norway , messaging England : troll lonely

Norway : come over

Norway : bring friend for troll

Norway : takk

England : it’s literally 02:00-

[highway-to-helltalia]

Love, Rose (nyo!NorEng)

Author’s note: A little late submission for @hwsyuriweek2020 

Not set in any particular year, but kind of a Victorian au. 

Characters: Nyo!England (Rose)/ Nyo!Norway (Lotte), Denmark (Magnus), America (Alfred), Prussia (Gilbert) 

Word count: 1800 

If there was one thing Lotte disliked above all else, it was parties. The constant music and chatter, and the hustle and bustle of the people parading about on and off the dance floor overwhelmed her. She would have much preferred to sit at home with her younger brother, but her parents had insisted that she come along. To help the family’s reputation after moving to England from Norway so recently, her mother had said, by showing what a lovely and sociable daughter they had. Perhaps she might even find a nice man to marry.

Lotte crinkled her nose at the thought, and at the stench of the champagne she swirled around in her glass. The bubbles tickled her face as she stared into it rather than watching the other people in the room. She had no interest in them, if she had it her way she would stay at the table in the corner by herself the whole night and not converse with anyone.

“Hello there.” A voice came from over her shoulder, haughty and regal in nature, though there was nothing unkind about the tone.

Lotte started at the sudden noise, almost upsetting her drink as she fumbled to set it down on the table.

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to startle you. I do apologise.” The speaker glided around the table to stand in front of Lotte. She bowed her head in apology, her long blond hair falling over her face. It fell back as she straightened up to show a gracious smile and kind blue eyes the same azure shade as her dress.

“It’s perfectly alright,” Lotte amended quietly, twirling a lock of her own pale hair around her finger. She glanced away from the other woman, inwardly cursing her own shyness.

The woman pulled out a chair next to Lotte and primly sat down. “I just wanted to check you were alright. It is not often that I see someone seated alone at one of father’s parties.”

Lotte waved a dismissive hand. “There’s nothing wrong. I just prefer to be away from crowds, is all.”

“Ah, I see,” she inclined her head towards the dance floor where Lotte’s friend Magnus was causing a ruckus with two other noblemen’s sons who she knew as Gilbert and Alfred. “I do not blame you.”

The corner of Lotte’s mouth quirked into a small smile, then her brow furrowed. “Sorry, you said this was your father’s party?”

“Yes. Rose Kirkland, at your service.” Rose slid a hand through her blond locks, tossing them over her shoulder.

“Lotte Myhre.”  She nodded as she introduced herself, keeping her hands clasped on her lap to avoid a handshake if possible.

Rose seemed to sense her wish, and lowered her own hand to her side, though her expression remained amiable. “Oh, Myhre. You moved to England recently, if I am correct? How are you finding it?”

Lotte shrugged, beginning to play with her hair again. “It’s nice, the countryside is lovely. Though the cities are busier than I was expecting.”

Rose considered this. “I suppose it is rather busy here, though I have grown up with it so I barely notice it now. And I’m afraid London is the worst place for that.” She glanced at something over Lotte’s shoulder, her eyes widening. “Alfred, don’t-” She began to stand, pausing to look back at Lotte. “Excuse me, I must go and deal with this. It has been splendid to make your acquaintance.” She smiled pleasantly before marching towards the refreshments table with a thunderous expression.  

----------

Several days passed after the party, in which Lotte would occasionally smile as she recalled her brief interaction with Rose. She had seemed very nice, outwardly what others would describe as the perfect English lady, but she had a sharp wit and sarcastic humour. She could perhaps be a good friend if they ever met again, but Lotte wasn’t expecting that to happen any time soon. She certainly wasn’t expecting Rose to try and contact her.

“A letter for you, miss.” The maid held an envelope to Lotte as she reached the bottom of the stairs one morning at breakfast time.

Still in her silk nightgown, Lotte yawned, blearily taking hold of it. The paper was good quality, enough to indicate that it must be from another noble family, though there was no seal on the back. After she fetched her breakfast, she almost forgot about the letter, and it lay on her desk for a good part of the morning. After all, she wasn’t expecting anything important. It was only when she sat down to do a little writing before lunch that her eyes landed upon it again.

“Just who are you from?” She enquired softly as she opened the envelope. The scent of roses wafted from the paper when she removed it, and grew stronger when it was unfolded.

Dear Lotte Myhre,

It was wonderful to meet you at my father’s party last week. I would be delighted if we could stay in touch.

Regards,

Rose Kirkland

Lotte’s lips parted in surprise as she read through the words. Concise though it was, this was a bold declaration of friendship, perhaps one that was secret from Rose’s parents given the absence of a seal on the back.

She picked up a quill and dipped it in the pot of ink which rested beside a stack of paper on her tidy desk. The quill hovered above the page as she considered how she should begin her reply, for so long that a spot of ink dripped onto the paper. Cursing as she would never do in company, Lotte screwed up the paper and picked up a fresh sheet. Since Rose had used dear, it would be proper for Lotte to do so as well.

Dear Rose Kirkland,

She paused again. It was rare that Lotte wrote to anyone other than Magnus, her childhood friend with whom she could be as informal as she pleased. She had no idea how to word such a letter. Rose’s had been short, so perhaps she wouldn’t mind a reply of a similar length.

It was lovely to meet you. I too would like to converse further.

Yours,

Lotte Myhre

She deliberated over whether or not to add a seal, since Rose had not done. In the end, she opted to go without. The prospect of receiving an unmarked letter, yet knowing exactly who it was from and opening it in secret almost added a romantic air to the situation.

The reply arrived several days later, in an identical envelope.

Dear Lotte,

Many thanks for your response. I am pleased to be able to discuss matters with another lady. I hope it is not too presumptuous for me to state that we could become good friends yet.

Yours,

Rose

From then on, her letters appeared in much the same fashion. Sprayed with the same rose-scented perfume, always starting with dear Lotte, and ending with yours, Rose. They wrote at least once per week, occasionally more often, and over time the letters grew longer, involving more personal details as the two women became closer.

On a September day, the post was delayed by a rainstorm, and Lotte sat in her room to open the most recent letter by candlelight in the evening.

Dear Lotte,

My apologies for my delay in replying. Life has been busy in my household as of late; while Fiona’s wedding is next month, my parents are encouraging me to follow in her footsteps. Needless to say, it is proving difficult to find a suitor, they all seem to think I am too bold and several have privately said that I am impertinent. Life would be so much simpler if the world was filled with only women. While the company of men can be enjoyable, the ones I have courted are severely lacking in romantic aspects in several areas. Though they are prioritised in education, they do not understand the power of the written word as we do. I would be hard pressed to find one who writes as eloquently as you, my dear.

A small smirk graced Lotte’s face as she read the paragraph, replaced by a blush at the last sentence. After reading the letter, she clasped it to her chest as a sigh escaped her lips. Reading Rose’s tender words brought a warmth to her heart that she could neither describe nor understand. She was sure no man could ever make her feel this way. A soft smile on her face, she began to write a reply.

Dear Rose,

There is no need to apologise, my parents have much the same attitude. A girl with your beauty and intellect should have no trouble finding a suitor, and perhaps it is a testament their suitability rather than your own that they would turn you down. Were I a man, I would be able to think of no greater partner.

They continued to exchange similar letters for several months, until one day in December. Lotte opened the letter as she would any other, sliding the knife under the flap and carefully removing the paper. But this time her eyes settled on the first two words.

Dearest Lotte,

She stared at the page, suddenly short of breath. It was such a simple change of tone, yet it struck something in Lotte’s heart. Rose wasn’t one to put such sentiment into a letter. She was formal and straightforward, but a wordsmith nonetheless, and seemed to know the exact implications of each phrase she used. She wondered if Rose could possibly be proclaiming that she, Lotte, was the person dearest to her heart…

After minutes of careful consideration, she picked up a quill and began to scribe a reply.

My dearest Rose…

----------

Lotte felt as if she was holding her breath for a week until a reply was finally delivered to her house. She opened it with slightly trembling fingers, and sighed when she read the first phrase.

My darling Lotte,

Lotte could barely focus as she read over the paragraphs updating her on the events of Rose’s life. When she reached the last one, her heart almost stopped. She sat down on her bed, a hand clasped against her heart.

My dear friend, I am glad that we have become so close. Though we have lived not far from each other for several months, I regret that we did not speak until the party. I often noticed you at church, and occasionally you would take a hiking route which just so happened to pass my window. I should inform you that our friendship is the dearest thing in my life, and I pray that our hearts may remain entwined as they are for the rest of our lives.

Love, Rose

[caffinatedstory]

Illusion

#4  50-70-50 fic for the Hetalia Writers Discord challenge. Prompt: Illusion __________________ The air sparkles and shimmers; it seems to be filled with heat and ice all at once as Norway weaves his hands through it with precision and grace. To untrained eyes he might appear to be simply dancing, but England knows it's so much more than that. Norway weaves magic. It only takes a few seconds, and then little creatures will appear. Illusions and shadows become real; substantial things you can touch, feel and hear. England can't help but reach out and take their hand. He knows the risks of course – not everything Norway summons will treat them with kindness. However; it's a risk worth taking. They glimmer so beautifully in the low light, their dances mesmerising and captivating.

Their songs are sad but beautiful. The kind that reaches into your soul and digs it's claws deep inside you – leaving scars that may never fully heal. “Careful,” Norway whispers and carefully blows a creature away. The illusion is too real, but England doesn't want the spell to end.

[fireandspiceland]

Thoughts on Denmark/England. Norway/England?

DenEng is ✨🔥👌🏻 I love the ship, even better if it’s PrukDen. I read a DenEng fic a while ago where they’re both too high to fuck properly so they end up with Denmark fucking England thighs that was really hot dhsjsk

For NorEng I haven’t really seen much content except in a magical trio context. I’m not opposed to the ship tho, it could be fun to play around with especially with how I see Norway as a top and dom and massive tease and I England as trans and a little bratty. 👀