[Fanfic] Pretty Things
Title: Pretty Things
Author: Me
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Denmark/Norway, and Iceland
Rating: PG
Warnings: Little Mermaid AU
Summary: There is a lesson to be learned, and sacrifices to be made. A rather old de-anon from the kink meme.
The first time I see him, the waters are warm and teaming with life.
It is a wonderful day for singing. I and my youngest brother have decided that singing is what we shall do. So on this day where the water matches the sky in splendor we raise to the surface and flow around each other, our voices fluttering with the waves. It is this day that I see the boat that takes him to land. I have seen ship in my wanderings. Their shadows pass the sea when the waters are warm, and their shining trinkets sink when the waters are cold. My youngest brother and I live in a ship. It is old and was once inhabited by the eels, who love to slink to and fro in shadow. When we found our ship the eels were many, now it is our home and there are none. They cannot stand our singing, so we sang and sang until they could stand it no longer.
The ship that takes him is not like our ship, for this one moves and sways and is bright and beautiful. He stands on his ship and gazes at the direction of land. The breeze carries his scent to me, and he smells of strength.
We agree - my youngest brother and I - that he is a pretty thing, and we much like pretty things. We sing as one to make him come. But he only has eyes for land and does not hear our call. His ship leaves, and we are distraught.
We have decided that if we should see him again, we must sing louder.
When next we do see his ship the water is not as warm. The cold has started to set in. But we have been watching for his ship. So when its shadow passes our ship, we hurry to the water’s edge and sing with all our might. But it is no good. He does not hear us, for he only has eyes for the land he is leaving.
It is many colds before we see him again, and he has grown in that time. Like many things, humans grow quickly, we remain young for much longer. He still remains a pretty thing, and in the time we have not forgotten him. It is on this encounter that I learn what he seeks. It is ‘Norway’. I can only hear him speak it, but the sounds he uses tells me it is to be his greatest treasure.
I do not tell my youngest brother of my discovery. It is the first secret I have kept from him, and it fills me with a sense of being.
When his boat again travels the water I am ready. I have asked the sea to hold its anger till now. When his ship appears, I ask the sea to rage. A storm unfolds; I and my brother rush to the ship, and when he is tossed overboard, we retrieve him.
He is pretty under the waves as he dances, and we play with him for a while. When he stops his moving, we approach and grab him. We take him down with us. It is then that I realize why he has stopped moving. He is human, and humans must breath. I snatch him from my youngest brother’s grasp and take him to the surface. He still does not move, and I begin to worry. If he is to die he will no longer be a pretty thing.
I take him to land, and poke and prod him, but he does not move. As time moves on I worry. I did not want my pretty thing to suffer. I think I have killed him, and I sing in sorrow. I never wanted him to die, I only wanted to show him my ship, and keep him with me always.
As I sing he awakens, and I am filled with joy. His eyes are blue, like the sky when it is clear. They look at me as if they have never slept, and look at my tail with awe.
He loves my voice, I can tell by the way he gazes at me. I wonder if it is the same way he gazes at Norway, but he makes no sound.
When the sound of other humans comes, I know it is time to go. My singing stops, and I turn to leave. But he has grabbed my hand. For a human who was dead his grip is strong, and I must work at releasing myself.
It is no use, I am not strong enough to make him release me, so I sing. I hope that he can understand with my song. It works, and he releases me. The other human’s are close, so I rush. I do not look back, simply swim to our ship.
My youngest brother is waiting when I arrive, and he is very upset. He does not understand the concept of death, and I do not explain it, for neither do I truly understand it.
I tell my youngest brother that I will claim him as my pretty thing, and that I refuse to share. We have always shared, so my youngest sibling does not like this. He leaves me to my thoughts.
I ask the sea how he can be mine. The sea tells me I am a stupid fish, and that he cannot be mine. I am not very happy with this answer, for I am not a stupid fish.
Each day I ask the sea again how he can be mine. Each day the sea replies that I am a stupid fish, and that he cannot be mine.
It is one day, a cold passed, that I ask the sea how he can be mine, and the sea gives me a true answer.
If you truly desire him to be yours you must win his heart. Once you have won his heart, I will change his form so that he will always be yours.
I am overjoyed, and I ask the sea how I will do such a thing. The sea tells me that it will make me a human, will give me language and legs, but cannot give me a soul. I do not know what a soul means, so I tell the sea that I will do without it.
It tells me that in two colds past take him to the sea, and if I have obtained his heart for my own, then the sea will grant my wish.
I am so overjoyed that I do not say good-bye to my youngest brother.
I rush to the land, and when I come to the shore my tail turns to legs. I try to sing in joy, but I cannot. I try again, but all I can do is gargle and sputter. My song is gone, and I am not able to sing in despair. Water pools in my eyes for the first time, and I despair for my lost song.
I do not like this speech, it is hard and it hurts my voice. There is no rhythm or love or expression in this speech. My song was my being, and now I cannot sing.
I want it back, my beautiful song, and I try to tell the sea of my want, but it does not answer. Humans cannot hear the sea, the sea cannot hear humans. So the water flows from my eyes, and I stay by the water’s side, hoping that I will be heard.
The sun rises and sets, and I remain, still alone and crying for the sea and for my youngest brother. Neither has answered my call. I am so very lonely, and this world without sea is so cold.
The sun sets and that is when I see him. Somehow, my pretty thing has heard my call and come to find me. He witnesses me and runs to my side. He speaks, but I cannot understand. I have language, but I do not know speech. I long to tell him that I am the one who will win his heart, so I say what I know he desires.
“Norway.” I speak the word over and over. He looks at me as if I was a crab in his shell. He speaks to me, but all I can make out is “Denmark” It sounds like a fine name for him, and he says it every time I speak “Norway” so I am assured that it is his title.
He wraps me in a layer of his skin. It is warm and soft, and I clutch the gift to my shoulders, for it is a part of him.
His arms remain around my shoulders, and he leads me like a youngling. My legs are new and strange, so his help is kind. He looks at me with something I cannot read, and I realize that in this world without sea or song I am not only mute, but blind.
He takes me to a great reef, teaming with life and splendor, but it is not a warm place. When he takes me through the reef everyone hides, and I know I do not fit.
He, Denmark, takes me to a small place. Like a ship it has walls, but it does not flow like a ship. It has holes like a ship, but I dare not go through them, for they do not seem like exits.
Denmark takes me into another small place and sets me to sit. He turns something and water flows from a shining thing. At first it scares me because the water sounds so angry, so brutal. But Denmark allows the water to flow, and does not falter at all. He is chattering needlessly at me, expecting me to understand what he is trying to convey. After a time, Denmark turns the something again and the water stops.
It has filled a large container, and I can’t help but wonder why the water is so clam. It settles and does not move. It looks dead, and the sight scares me, I have never imagined water so lifeless.
Denmark motions towards the water, as if he wants me to get in. I look at him with what I hope is fear, but I have no emotion in this place, so I don’t think he understands. I am not a violent thing, so when he forces me in I do not struggle.
Water has never hurt me before, but this water is so warm. I am sure it is dead. It moves around me, but it has no self, no purpose. It feels disgusting on my skin, but most on my legs.
I try to get out, but Denmark keeps me there. A beautiful smile is on his face, and suddenly he does not seem as pretty or beautiful as I once envisioned him. I stay because he wants me to, and he rubs and pokes and covers me in this water that smells of death.
It is this ritual that makes me realize that I do not like humans. Denmark is still a pretty thing - and I still desire him - but I want to show him the beauty of the world. I want him to understand how wonderful the sea is, to view the womb of the world in all its splendor.
As the days pass me I cling to this idea. Denmark is a wretched thing that cannot understand the world, but it is not his fault.
I remain in this small place for days, to afraid to leave and be lost forever. Land is not a friend like sea, it will not guide me or help me. I can feel this all too well. Denmark visits me often. He brings me food and tells me things I cannot understand. He is still beautiful, but it is a tainted beauty. I imagine he will be much more striking when he can understand the world as I do.
Time passes slowly for me, this small place is a prison. I can see the sea from one of the holes in this place. I tried once to go to the sea, tried to slip out of the hole and go to it, but Denmark grabbed me around my waist and pulled me back. He stayed longer than usual after that. I think he is afraid I will leave him so I try to be comforting. If only I could sing I would tell him that I will not leave his side, but I can’t and the thought is horrible. I only cry, because I want to see my sea, I want to sing with my brother once more, I want Denmark to understand me, and none of it is so.
There are some days that Denmark takes me out of this small place. He leads me through the maze of this reef, and we come outside to bask in the sun. These days are nice, and I enjoy the time with him. But I can hear the sea calling, and I long to seek it out.
It is one of these times that I sneak away from him for just a while. I run on my legs to the sea. I feel its embrace grip me, and I can only let it cover me in its love. It is then that I see my brother, looking at me from behind the rocks.
I cannot tell what he is trying to convey to me, but when our eyes meet he dives and comes closer to the beach. He sings, and it is more beautiful than all the world. I know not why he sings, or what for he sings, that knowledge is not for humans, but I rush to him as well as these useless legs can take me.
I feel his face and hair and hands and I never want to let him go again. He also rediscovers me, his hands roam to my legs, but I do not let them stay there long. I take his hands in mine and bring them to my neck. I am trying to tell him that I cannot sing, that such a thing has been lost to me.
I don’t think he understands, but I am not able to be sure.
It is sudden when his hands stop their roaming and tighten on me. They are still on my neck, but he is holding me closer to himself now. I notice his eyes are traveling behind me, but I do not have time to look. In an instant, we are in the sea’s hands. My brother is diving, rushing away from the shore and I am firmly held in his grasp.
The act is a mixture of submission and dread. I want the sea once more, I could be happy if I returned. But these human holes in my chest ache, they are filling with water and feel as if they are to burst any minute. I don’t understand, and I don’t think my youngest brother does either.
The sea is my great love, my mother and father. I must have angered it for my being to hurt so. I long for repentance, so I do not struggle as my youngest sibling carries me down.
The sea refuses to welcome me home. There are dark spots forming all around me, they are blotting out everything, till I can hardly see what is happening. Everything hurts, and I am afraid of staying awake to face such continuous pain.
Hands are gripping me from both ends, and without warning I am again above water. My primitive mouth sputters and gags on the air, and I sag into someone’s grip.
Only later will I realize that this someone is Denmark.
My vision is still dark, but it is clearing enough for me to gaze at the sea, to view the world as my youngest brother resurfaces and tries to reach me. His hand is reaching for mine when there is a deadening sound and something sinks into his skin.
For the first time since gaining these cursed legs do I realize what my brother is trying to convey. I see his eyes widen and then something essential is gone. He sinks and the only image I have left is that of the red blossoming for his chest, spiraling around itself in a vision of perversion.
The sea takes my youngest brother into its grasp, and I never see him again.
It is then that I come to understand. I am not going home.
Well, I guess I might as well post this...I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for your time. Comments are lovely, if you enjoyed it or did not.
Author: Me
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Denmark/Norway, and Iceland
Rating: PG
Warnings: Little Mermaid AU
Summary: There is a lesson to be learned, and sacrifices to be made. A rather old de-anon from the kink meme.
The first time I see him, the waters are warm and teaming with life.
It is a wonderful day for singing. I and my youngest brother have decided that singing is what we shall do. So on this day where the water matches the sky in splendor we raise to the surface and flow around each other, our voices fluttering with the waves. It is this day that I see the boat that takes him to land. I have seen ship in my wanderings. Their shadows pass the sea when the waters are warm, and their shining trinkets sink when the waters are cold. My youngest brother and I live in a ship. It is old and was once inhabited by the eels, who love to slink to and fro in shadow. When we found our ship the eels were many, now it is our home and there are none. They cannot stand our singing, so we sang and sang until they could stand it no longer.
The ship that takes him is not like our ship, for this one moves and sways and is bright and beautiful. He stands on his ship and gazes at the direction of land. The breeze carries his scent to me, and he smells of strength.
We agree - my youngest brother and I - that he is a pretty thing, and we much like pretty things. We sing as one to make him come. But he only has eyes for land and does not hear our call. His ship leaves, and we are distraught.
We have decided that if we should see him again, we must sing louder.
When next we do see his ship the water is not as warm. The cold has started to set in. But we have been watching for his ship. So when its shadow passes our ship, we hurry to the water’s edge and sing with all our might. But it is no good. He does not hear us, for he only has eyes for the land he is leaving.
It is many colds before we see him again, and he has grown in that time. Like many things, humans grow quickly, we remain young for much longer. He still remains a pretty thing, and in the time we have not forgotten him. It is on this encounter that I learn what he seeks. It is ‘Norway’. I can only hear him speak it, but the sounds he uses tells me it is to be his greatest treasure.
I do not tell my youngest brother of my discovery. It is the first secret I have kept from him, and it fills me with a sense of being.
When his boat again travels the water I am ready. I have asked the sea to hold its anger till now. When his ship appears, I ask the sea to rage. A storm unfolds; I and my brother rush to the ship, and when he is tossed overboard, we retrieve him.
He is pretty under the waves as he dances, and we play with him for a while. When he stops his moving, we approach and grab him. We take him down with us. It is then that I realize why he has stopped moving. He is human, and humans must breath. I snatch him from my youngest brother’s grasp and take him to the surface. He still does not move, and I begin to worry. If he is to die he will no longer be a pretty thing.
I take him to land, and poke and prod him, but he does not move. As time moves on I worry. I did not want my pretty thing to suffer. I think I have killed him, and I sing in sorrow. I never wanted him to die, I only wanted to show him my ship, and keep him with me always.
As I sing he awakens, and I am filled with joy. His eyes are blue, like the sky when it is clear. They look at me as if they have never slept, and look at my tail with awe.
He loves my voice, I can tell by the way he gazes at me. I wonder if it is the same way he gazes at Norway, but he makes no sound.
When the sound of other humans comes, I know it is time to go. My singing stops, and I turn to leave. But he has grabbed my hand. For a human who was dead his grip is strong, and I must work at releasing myself.
It is no use, I am not strong enough to make him release me, so I sing. I hope that he can understand with my song. It works, and he releases me. The other human’s are close, so I rush. I do not look back, simply swim to our ship.
My youngest brother is waiting when I arrive, and he is very upset. He does not understand the concept of death, and I do not explain it, for neither do I truly understand it.
I tell my youngest brother that I will claim him as my pretty thing, and that I refuse to share. We have always shared, so my youngest sibling does not like this. He leaves me to my thoughts.
I ask the sea how he can be mine. The sea tells me I am a stupid fish, and that he cannot be mine. I am not very happy with this answer, for I am not a stupid fish.
Each day I ask the sea again how he can be mine. Each day the sea replies that I am a stupid fish, and that he cannot be mine.
It is one day, a cold passed, that I ask the sea how he can be mine, and the sea gives me a true answer.
If you truly desire him to be yours you must win his heart. Once you have won his heart, I will change his form so that he will always be yours.
I am overjoyed, and I ask the sea how I will do such a thing. The sea tells me that it will make me a human, will give me language and legs, but cannot give me a soul. I do not know what a soul means, so I tell the sea that I will do without it.
It tells me that in two colds past take him to the sea, and if I have obtained his heart for my own, then the sea will grant my wish.
I am so overjoyed that I do not say good-bye to my youngest brother.
I rush to the land, and when I come to the shore my tail turns to legs. I try to sing in joy, but I cannot. I try again, but all I can do is gargle and sputter. My song is gone, and I am not able to sing in despair. Water pools in my eyes for the first time, and I despair for my lost song.
I do not like this speech, it is hard and it hurts my voice. There is no rhythm or love or expression in this speech. My song was my being, and now I cannot sing.
I want it back, my beautiful song, and I try to tell the sea of my want, but it does not answer. Humans cannot hear the sea, the sea cannot hear humans. So the water flows from my eyes, and I stay by the water’s side, hoping that I will be heard.
The sun rises and sets, and I remain, still alone and crying for the sea and for my youngest brother. Neither has answered my call. I am so very lonely, and this world without sea is so cold.
The sun sets and that is when I see him. Somehow, my pretty thing has heard my call and come to find me. He witnesses me and runs to my side. He speaks, but I cannot understand. I have language, but I do not know speech. I long to tell him that I am the one who will win his heart, so I say what I know he desires.
“Norway.” I speak the word over and over. He looks at me as if I was a crab in his shell. He speaks to me, but all I can make out is “Denmark” It sounds like a fine name for him, and he says it every time I speak “Norway” so I am assured that it is his title.
He wraps me in a layer of his skin. It is warm and soft, and I clutch the gift to my shoulders, for it is a part of him.
His arms remain around my shoulders, and he leads me like a youngling. My legs are new and strange, so his help is kind. He looks at me with something I cannot read, and I realize that in this world without sea or song I am not only mute, but blind.
He takes me to a great reef, teaming with life and splendor, but it is not a warm place. When he takes me through the reef everyone hides, and I know I do not fit.
He, Denmark, takes me to a small place. Like a ship it has walls, but it does not flow like a ship. It has holes like a ship, but I dare not go through them, for they do not seem like exits.
Denmark takes me into another small place and sets me to sit. He turns something and water flows from a shining thing. At first it scares me because the water sounds so angry, so brutal. But Denmark allows the water to flow, and does not falter at all. He is chattering needlessly at me, expecting me to understand what he is trying to convey. After a time, Denmark turns the something again and the water stops.
It has filled a large container, and I can’t help but wonder why the water is so clam. It settles and does not move. It looks dead, and the sight scares me, I have never imagined water so lifeless.
Denmark motions towards the water, as if he wants me to get in. I look at him with what I hope is fear, but I have no emotion in this place, so I don’t think he understands. I am not a violent thing, so when he forces me in I do not struggle.
Water has never hurt me before, but this water is so warm. I am sure it is dead. It moves around me, but it has no self, no purpose. It feels disgusting on my skin, but most on my legs.
I try to get out, but Denmark keeps me there. A beautiful smile is on his face, and suddenly he does not seem as pretty or beautiful as I once envisioned him. I stay because he wants me to, and he rubs and pokes and covers me in this water that smells of death.
It is this ritual that makes me realize that I do not like humans. Denmark is still a pretty thing - and I still desire him - but I want to show him the beauty of the world. I want him to understand how wonderful the sea is, to view the womb of the world in all its splendor.
As the days pass me I cling to this idea. Denmark is a wretched thing that cannot understand the world, but it is not his fault.
I remain in this small place for days, to afraid to leave and be lost forever. Land is not a friend like sea, it will not guide me or help me. I can feel this all too well. Denmark visits me often. He brings me food and tells me things I cannot understand. He is still beautiful, but it is a tainted beauty. I imagine he will be much more striking when he can understand the world as I do.
Time passes slowly for me, this small place is a prison. I can see the sea from one of the holes in this place. I tried once to go to the sea, tried to slip out of the hole and go to it, but Denmark grabbed me around my waist and pulled me back. He stayed longer than usual after that. I think he is afraid I will leave him so I try to be comforting. If only I could sing I would tell him that I will not leave his side, but I can’t and the thought is horrible. I only cry, because I want to see my sea, I want to sing with my brother once more, I want Denmark to understand me, and none of it is so.
There are some days that Denmark takes me out of this small place. He leads me through the maze of this reef, and we come outside to bask in the sun. These days are nice, and I enjoy the time with him. But I can hear the sea calling, and I long to seek it out.
It is one of these times that I sneak away from him for just a while. I run on my legs to the sea. I feel its embrace grip me, and I can only let it cover me in its love. It is then that I see my brother, looking at me from behind the rocks.
I cannot tell what he is trying to convey to me, but when our eyes meet he dives and comes closer to the beach. He sings, and it is more beautiful than all the world. I know not why he sings, or what for he sings, that knowledge is not for humans, but I rush to him as well as these useless legs can take me.
I feel his face and hair and hands and I never want to let him go again. He also rediscovers me, his hands roam to my legs, but I do not let them stay there long. I take his hands in mine and bring them to my neck. I am trying to tell him that I cannot sing, that such a thing has been lost to me.
I don’t think he understands, but I am not able to be sure.
It is sudden when his hands stop their roaming and tighten on me. They are still on my neck, but he is holding me closer to himself now. I notice his eyes are traveling behind me, but I do not have time to look. In an instant, we are in the sea’s hands. My brother is diving, rushing away from the shore and I am firmly held in his grasp.
The act is a mixture of submission and dread. I want the sea once more, I could be happy if I returned. But these human holes in my chest ache, they are filling with water and feel as if they are to burst any minute. I don’t understand, and I don’t think my youngest brother does either.
The sea is my great love, my mother and father. I must have angered it for my being to hurt so. I long for repentance, so I do not struggle as my youngest sibling carries me down.
The sea refuses to welcome me home. There are dark spots forming all around me, they are blotting out everything, till I can hardly see what is happening. Everything hurts, and I am afraid of staying awake to face such continuous pain.
Hands are gripping me from both ends, and without warning I am again above water. My primitive mouth sputters and gags on the air, and I sag into someone’s grip.
Only later will I realize that this someone is Denmark.
My vision is still dark, but it is clearing enough for me to gaze at the sea, to view the world as my youngest brother resurfaces and tries to reach me. His hand is reaching for mine when there is a deadening sound and something sinks into his skin.
For the first time since gaining these cursed legs do I realize what my brother is trying to convey. I see his eyes widen and then something essential is gone. He sinks and the only image I have left is that of the red blossoming for his chest, spiraling around itself in a vision of perversion.
The sea takes my youngest brother into its grasp, and I never see him again.
It is then that I come to understand. I am not going home.
Well, I guess I might as well post this...I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for your time. Comments are lovely, if you enjoyed it or did not.