Aaaand we're at an end
thank you so much! I hope you guys have a lovely christmas and new years and I might see you around on here if I end up writing anything new at any point. Unless you guys have something you'd like to see written I'm open for ideas (:
Thank you yet again!

Crystal Ball - Grimes.
Everything In It's Right Place - Radiohead

The rivers ran wild on either side of him, the channels joining up to create a lake frozen over by the breath of winter. Underbrush had lapped at his waist with the travelling of his feet and unsuspecting laughter bubbled at the roof of his mouth as he let himself slide over the surface, the solitude the forest granted him left him feeling giddy and freer than the larks that had lingered through the harsh winter.

He didn't really know what to do when the ice splintered under his feet, he should have guessed the water wasn't entirely frozen and he should have suspected that running onto it and trying to slide to the other edge would have ended terribly. So he sat, on the floor of the lake staring up at the opening he'd fallen through as if he were looking on into another world of pale, red tinged clouds and a place were sound still existed. His lungs were a hair away from giving out and leaving him blue under the water until his body decided to fix itself and until he would have found it in himself to care enough to come back up to the real world.

A face appeared at the edge of the opening, platinum hair and porcelain features distorted by the filter of the water. He didn't expect a hand to reach in and grab the scruff of his flimsy shirt and drag him back up to the surface, where he choked on the fresh air, his throat being made raw from the biting cold and the hand made of rough calloused fingertips and palms crafted of winter and speckled stardust stayed on the back of his neck until he could breathe again.

Through the tears in his eyes from violently hacking up and gasping down oxygen he could barely make out the smaller details of the other male, the thick furs that enveloped his form and the red that stained his skin and contrasted brilliantly against his teeth that bared each time his lips formed another word that didn't meet the young nation's ears. The pale strands of hair he'd briefly taken in before being given a taste of air again were matted together with what Netherlands suspected to be blood.

"Are you alright?" The other teen said after he'd become adjusted to the air again, he jerked his head in a nod and vaguely noted he was being dragged across to solid ground. A well used axe lay where they ended up settling on the stretch of forest and snow hills. "You were going a little ghostly, were you trying to drown yourself?"

"No." Curling in on himself he rested his forehead on his knees and smothered his nose against his scarf to keep it from the cold that clung to his clothes and skin. A habit he didn't remember even picking up had him screwing his eyes closed and digging his nails into his palms to count to ten. He hoped on the dust that coated his skin that when he opened his eyes again he would be alone and free to go back to his sister.

"Who are you?" Came the hoarse question, his accent intriguing and somewhere in his subconscious told him he'd heard it before. "Come on I won't bite."

He obeyed and just as he did the tight frown that was on the blonde's face distorted into a grin. Galaxies were imprinted into his pale skin in the form of freckles that were even sprinkled across his smiling lips. The sky was contained in his eyes and strands of platinum interrupted the otherwise incredible view that was in his stare. His body couldn't have been older than 16 but already he had the structure of a man, muscle clinging to skinny bones and dusty shafts of reddening sunlight highlighted an already prominent jawline and pair of cheekbones. The air that he carried gave Netherlands the impression he was older, he couldn't tell how long the other male had been walking around as a teenager but he could see from the healed over scars and already roughened and weighed down body he had been breathing in the air of the planet a lot longer than he had.

He was just like him and his sister.

Another walking abomination. But the way his consistent smile never reached his eyes made him consider if there were more to it than the blonde being more than just another freak show.

"So ya going to tell me your name, kid?"

It took him a while to find his tongue, his jaw clenching and relaxing with the effort but eventually he managed to get the strangled reply out from between his teeth. Ten seconds afterwards he found himself coherent.

"Netherlands."

Whoever the other was, wasn't impressed and rolled his eyes. "I asked your name not your title."

"Only humans have names. I'm called Netherlands, my sister is Belgium."

"You shouldn't tell people things like that Netherlands. They'll think you're crazy and won't believe you, humans aren't that accepting. But I have a name, a name, name not my real name. You can call me Denmark if you're going to be formal, but ya can call me Mathias if you'd like."

He'd heard about the Vikings before, but as a physical body he'd made sure to stay as far away from them as humanly possible while everybody else dealt with the effects, sure he'd felt some of their presence, parts of him being taken advantage of when he wasn't fast enough on his feet. And there he was, tongue tied again and sitting in front of one of the alphas like they were friends."I like Mathias, the name, I don't know you so."

"I don't know me either." The dullness that infiltrated his tone in those two last words was familiar but rather than push to find out what was causing his mild case of deja vu he leant back against the tree and fiddled with the fraying edges of his shirt as he absently tossed up names in his head.

"Lars. My name is Lars." It sounded right on his tongue. Mathias sat still for a second, his eyes blown as wide as saucers and his pale face turning impossibly lighter. As if in a trance the darting of his irises came to an abrupt stop and he stared the Dutchman down. Swallowing, his smile was back and he hummed in acceptance.

"Lars sounds perfect." The Dane blew at strands of his hair, white puffs of breath looking like smoke against the white and grey of the scenery, the only true colour coming from red footsteps that were imprinted into the snow from where the Dane had travelled and the blue in his eyes that looked as if he'd stolen the colour from the ocean. "Absolutely perfect."

"Why is there blood on you?"

His smile seemed to grow faker the longer Lars looked at him curiously with a touch of horror. The other sighed and rested his chin on the back of his hand. "Scanda said there were preparations in order before I became a kingdom."

"You're going to be a kingdom?"

He laughed, feet causing him to twirl on the spot, heavy furs and airy fabrics making him look graceful with the quick movement. "Kongeriget Danmark, doesn't it have a ring to it!?"

Lars eyed him up a little longer, longingly at the warm cloak of bear skin draped over his shoulders. He hoped that through the scraggly locks of hair that his gaze was obscured somewhat but his hoping failed him when the blonde smiled fondly and handed him over the garment. The Dutchman smiled quickly, averting his gaze not too soon afterwards and thanked him timidly. However where he averted his gaze afterwards left him feeling a little more than awkward, his stare turned from the seemingly unpredictable ocean to pale lavender bruising that appeared to be imprinted in with the clusters of freckles.

"...They say that marks are left on your body from how you died in a past life. Usually in the form of birth marks." The Danish nation said somewhat dreamily. "I guess whoever I used to be was pretty unhappy, hanging isn't the best way to do it."

"Why do you say he hanged himself?" Lars murmured, moving to press his hands against the ice that hadn't shattered. By the time Mathias had spoken he still had not lifted it again, not until his fingers felt numb and when he did let go his palms were completely pale. The Dane slipped his hands over Lars' and smiled lightly, his fingers outstretched as if to show the brunette the darker violets under his fingernails.

"That's usually from clawing at something right? I've seen it on some of the villagers...after we've..." He sighed and took his hands back. "When the bodies are being...It's usually me and Sve who have to do it, Norge is too small to carry large piles so...you see how they end up. Their nails usually snap off from where they've been scratching at the ropes."

After taking another long look at the Dane, now freed of the thickest of his layers Lars saw just how malnourished he was. The strength of a nation pulsing through his veins, visible under the near translucent skin but each bone that was visible protruded unhealthy, threatening to burst through the thin covering of sickly white. Noticing the defects in his appearance was easier than dealing with what he did in his spare time.

"When's the last time you ate?"

He looked taken aback, his eyes wide and he shrugged. Red seeped around the irises, broken blood vessels and the darkest circles Lars had seen in his life had leaked into the skin under his eyes, they looked somewhat sunken in with the protruding cheekbones. Whoever this nation was, whatever he'd been doing...and if the rumours and stories were true it would be have been exhausting and his body reflected that. An irritably fake smile was plastered onto his lips and again he shrugged.

"Norge and Sve need it more than me." White clung to his tongue as he dragged it across his bottom lip, evidence of food not touching it for a long while. "As the stronger one out of us, their survival is my priority."

"Stronger? I don't think you can remain strong if you don't eat."

"Lars, there's some things that don't make sense. I know I'm just skin and bones for now, but it'll change one day. I'm naturally the strongest I could be a walking skeleton with my organs on the ground and I'd still be able to do ten times more than anybody else." He tapped his temples and his grin turned hollow. "The beauty of having demons rattling my head is that they run my body unless I chose to silence them. But I like the company."

For somebody who still wasn't as old as some of the nations who walked the earth, for somebody who seemed not quite there and who's smile was a mask for the menacing darkness he spoke of the Dutchman saw a kind of wisdom in his self awareness. It frightened him but made the other seem so much more alluring that he may have been if they'd simply passed each other by on the street. He was unable to think of anything to say, his tongue felt too fat in his mouth once again and the long he looked into the other's near empty stare he couldn't find anything intelligent to reply with. The other teen was a dreamer from the breathy way of which he spoke, his distance to the physical world apparent from the heavy bags under his eyes and at the slope of which his shoulders slanted from the weight of their existences and he hoped things would eventually get better for the strange blonde. After all, it was said that those who disregarded sleep were the dreamers of the waking world, they saw things that Lars couldn't possibly imagine without being lulled to unconsciousness.

The distorted turn of his lips made the Dutchman sigh and he shook his head absently, fingers finding purchase on pieces of grass that struggled through the heavy epidermis of snow.

"You're weird."

xxx

1967

Sunday morning and I'm falling
I've got a feeling I don't want to know
Early dawning, Sunday morning

The song made the brunette freeze for a few moments, his blood running ice cold in his veins and again the strange sense of deja vu he'd had since he was a child washed over him. Unthinkingly he lit the end of his lip and strained his ears to hear for where exactly in the run down hotel Mathias was. "Oi Mathias." Lars called, his head tipping back over the edge of the couch to stare at the bare back of the Danish nation who stood in the bathroom, fishing around for his tablets behind the grime caked surface of shelf mirror. Mould covered the water pipes in disgusting splotches and the tiles were stained yellow to match the brown wallpaper that hung haphazardly off the walls.

Mathias signalled his acknowledgement with a single nod and tipped his hand over his mouth, throat working at swallowing the mix of white and red down his oesophagus. Soon after the tap grunted to life and Lars had to hold back bile as he drank from the pathetic stream of dirty water. It was odd that the oldest continuous monarchy in the continent had no qualms against being so careless about what he consumed.

"Do you know who this band is?"

"Uh...The Velvet Underground, I think. One of the singers who worked with them, Nico, she's German. Germany's been raving about her for months." He leant down, cigarette between his teeth and waited patiently for Lars to light it for him. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason." Lars said a bit quieter, thoughtful as smoke infiltrated his airways. "I feel like I've heard it before."

The other's lips came down upon the crown of Lars' head and he dropped into the seat beside him, legs kicked up over the edge of the arm of the couch. Unthinkingly he reached across to the other nation and held onto his hand, his own nails digging into the skin under Mathias' until white half moons interrupted the stain of bruising that had been there for as long as he'd known him, black lined eyes stared at him blankly and the same smile he'd been dealing with year after year, decade after century after millennia crafted itself in it's perfect plasticity on his face.

"Me too."

He knew it were impossible for their kind, but he felt like he would lose him to the fate Mathias had once claimed when they were young his past self had. Stupidly he let himself believe in reincarnation. And fate on top of it. His other hand awkwardly found it's way on Mathias' neck, delicately fingering the faded purple rings around his neck.

"Stay with me tonight yeah?"

The nod was a promise and somewhere in the universe came the wail of an alternate version of himself that never got the same answer.

Their lives were made up from the wishes of humans who craved a better time line.

They'd be remade as immortals who wouldn't be forced to part from the kiss of death.

This time they wouldn't fuck up,
This time their history wasn't cursed.
Just unfortunate.

End.