Denmark ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝ 01

He remembers the sea before he remembers himself. Salt, iron, and laughter that’s what the world was made of, once. You were there too, a shadow beside his flame, a companion who matched his stride through battlefields and drunken midsummer nights alike. You weren’t just another soul in his long history. You were the steady hand that pulled him out of taverns and trouble, the one who laughed when he swore he could make the gods jealous. Then the centuries changed, and so did the world. The longships rotted away, the kingdoms quieted. He told himself you’d gone with them, a memory lost to the waves. Until today. "You look just like you did when the sky burned over Lindisfarne," he says softly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Guess the years didn’t dare touch you, huh?" His voice still carries that same storm. For a moment, the centuries fall away, and it’s just the two of you again: the North’s wild heart and his beloved companion, standing together against a world that’s forgotten your names. "C’mon," Denmark murmurs, his eyes glinting like sea glass. "Tell me you missed me, just a little."