I do not own Hetalia
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North Dakota had never been to Iceland. Sure she'd paid attention to all international news since her induction into the union but through the years even if the tiny island nations had been brought up there had never been any purpose for anyone other than America to visit. In fact, America only went to visit when the nation hosted a World Meeting. That had only happened once before and now, for the second time, Iceland was hosting the next world meeting.
. The state had only ever left the country twice. The first time she had been deployed as a spy for her father in the height of World War Two. She'd been stationed in Belgium and later in France to gather intel and data to send to London. N.D. had also gotten very good with sabotage and explosives. The second time had been for the London Olympics. To make sure there wasn't an entire section of the stadium just taken up by states America had drawn names from a hat to see who would go with him.
Her reluctance to even leave her own state let alone her country didn't stem from intense nationalism or even a dislike for other countries. It stemmed from her simple pleasures life style. N.D. was happiest when things were quiet and calm; she took progress and change slowly. She preferred to roll along at her own pace without and annoyance of a nagging sibling standing behind her.
Keeping all of this in mind was why America wasn't immediately denying his young daughter her request. Blinking several times and staring over the top of his glasses the superpower examined the state. It was one of the rare times she actually showed up in the estate. America had been informed the Tony had transported her on his ship but that didn't explain why N.D. was here.
As per her usual day North Dakota was wearing her worn tan khaki pants that were tucked into muddy work boots. Her shirt was a dull flannel that looked like it had belonged to South Dakota at one point. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows to expose old thin scars and reasonably tan skin. Her monkey knot bracelet looked like it could do with a little less mud and her Australian Bush hat Uncle Aussie had given her was clutched between lean strong fingers. In the absence of her hat America noticed her hair needed trimming, dark brown hair was shaggy in an almost boyish fashion that wafted around her ears and bright green eyes.
With deliberate patience America set his papers down and interlacing his fingers rested his head upon his knuckles and continued to stare.
"You want to go with me to Iceland for the World Meeting?" America noticed the way her lips twitched ever so slightly.
"I only want to go with you to Iceland," she said. America always found it strange how North Dakota's voice was much deeper and richer than a normal teenage lady. Her voice reflected her attitude, so smooth it reminded him of a strong breeze cruising through a field of corn stalks. It was good thing he wasn't a human otherwise he knew he'd be on the verge of sleep from just a few sentences. "I have no interest in the meeting."
"Ah," America paused, "Alright." North Dakota wasn't in the habit of stirring up chaos like Texas or New Mexico. With her laconic attitude he knew that she wouldn't directly offend anyone for being overtly 'American"
"Thank you," she replied, pushing her hat back onto her flyaway hair.
"We'll be leaving tomorrow at eight pm so make sure you're packed and ready to go."
"Yessir," North Dakota turned about and strolled from his office. Watching his daughter leave he wondered how she'd manage all of the crowds. America shook his head and returned to his paperwork suddenly glad he had developed the habit of booking hotel rooms with more than one bed. It'd happened after more than one meeting of dragging drunken nations back to the hotel.
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Iceland irritably brushed Norway's hand from his head. "There is nothing wrong with my hair!" He snapped, "Go away!"
"This is only your second time hosting a World Meeting Icy," Denmark boomed from the next room, "Ya got ta look respectable."
"I don't want to." Iceland said, now warding off Finland with black eyeliner, "And I'm not wearing make-up!" Finland frowned and moved away. Just before Iceland could make his escape a massive hand landed on his shoulder, effectively stopping him. Sweden loomed over him with a wet comb and with a few deft movements pushed his hair into a semblance of order. Tucking the comb into his pocket Sweden brushed his fingers over Iceland's tie, jacket seams and collar. Iceland sighed but allowed Sweden to fuss.
"Just take note and stay out of the way of Germany when he takes over the meeting."
"Ah," Iceland nodded and then frowned.
"Also make sure America and England are not sitting near each other, set Turkey next to American and Canada near France while keeping England next to Russia." Finland said as Sweden deemed the shortest nations prepared and stepped away to do up his own tie. "Try not to fall asleep."
"ALRIGHT!"
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Most of the nation dispersed to explore the city or return to hotel rooms when the meeting was over. Iceland sank back into his chair as Norway dragged Denmark out of the room followed by Sweden and Finland who spared him a slight nod. Looking around to the trashed and empty room Iceland pulled himself up while brushing off his brown jacket.
Twenty minutes later he was off into his capital, exploring near the shopping district. This section of the city was intimately familiar to the country but it never failed to cheer him up. Iceland paused and did a double check to make sure he hadn't lost his mind.
He hadn't.
Resting on a sidewalk bench, leaning forward with elbows planted on knees and head setting on knuckles was the strangest girl Iceland had ever seen. The crowds obscured her for a moment and Iceland noted how many of his citizen gave the girl a passing confused glance. He leaned against the light pole on the other street and patted Mr. Puffin on the head while observing.
She was American. That much he could tell from a single glance and for a reason unfathomable to Iceland she reminded; however slightly, of America. Looking harder the words cowboy and farmer came to mind. Her brown work boots were newly cleaned and she wore a shirt he'd never seen outside the cinema's but he knew it was called flannel. His lips twitched as a little boy of about six years sidled over to the bench. Peering over the armrest with a solemn gaze the little boy didn't move as the American turned. She peered at him from underneath fluffy brown hair for several minutes before turning away to look again at the passing crowds. Iceland noted how the boy's parent watched worriedly from a little café.
"Are you a cowboy?" The boy finally chirped, climbing on to the bench. He crossed his lands and placed his hands on his lap, staring. Iceland sighed, this American probably wouldn't know Icelandic.
"I was," she said. To the surprise of everyone she spoke in muted tones, her smooth accent clearing out the hard edges of Icelandic, "Once." Iceland glanced around noting eight different people who were watching the exchange. The boy nodded before looking back at the American, she had turned to look at him and he seemed entranced by her very presence.
"Have you ever shot a gun?" Iceland tensed and so did the other adults. The child's mother half rose from her seat from the fear her child had angered the quiet westerner.
"Many times," came the smooth reply, "It's dangerous though."
"That's what Mama says." The boy fidgeted, "But I want to shoot a gun."
"Yer Mama is right," she said, her lips turned in a slight frown, "Guns are dangerous and lethal and not to messed with by little people. You'd be good tah listen to yer Mama."
"Oh," the boy deflated and fell silent. "Where are you from in America?"
"North Dakota," the girl replied, her eyes twinkled with a hidden private joke. The adults exchanged looks and Iceland frowned. He'd never heard of that state but since there were fifty he wasn't really surprised. "And you?"
"I live in the capital with my Mama and Papa, I've never left."
"It's been a long time since I hopped the pond," She said, her green eyes turned to the horizon as if she was sought a ghost form her past. "Long time."
"What does that mean?"
"What?"
"Hopping the pond," the boy said.
"Means crossing tha Atlantic Ocean," she replied, "American isn't as close to other countries like in Europe."
"That's because America is huge!" The boy spread his arms out, "Right?"
"Russia is bigger," she said but nodded, "yeah, pretty big."
"Wow!" The boy's eyes went huge and Iceland chuckled. "I wanna be a cowboy."
"It takes hard work to wrangle a steer," she said, "lots of practice and work to run a stampede."
"Huh, did you ever lasso a cow?"
"Lots of time," Came the laconic reply, "pretty good at it to."
The boy hummed to himself for several minutes while the teenager only watched the world through half-lidded eyes. Close to twenty minutes passed before the boy spoke again.
"How old are you?" The boy asked.
"Older than I look," the girl put her hat back onto her head; reaching over to the boy she ruffled his hair. He scowled and reached up to fix his hair. He jerked around as his mother called his name.
"Bye," he said, jumping to the ground, "It was nice meeting you."
"Nice meeting you to," the girl said, "Be good small fry." With a wave the boy scampered off. Sighed she settled back into the bench and continued to look about while seeming to have no intention of moving.
"Hey," pushing himself from his rest Iceland spoke as he moved forward, seemingly on his own accord.
She turned to him, her green eye flicking up and down to assess and analyze him, "Hey yourself." Speaking English her voice had an almost sedative like effect. Blinking rapidly he flicked his wrist to stop himself from dropping off to sleep.
Iceland paused, he wasn't sure why he had spoken to the teenager and he wasn't sure what to say next. His tongue seemed glued to the lid of his mouth.
"Are you enjoying your visit?" He said. Why'd I ask that? That was stupid question! "To…"
"I am," Iceland cast a spell to block whatever magic her voice had. Human's always carried the strangest hints of magic for generations. Mind clearer he turned his attention back to the American. "Much different from my home."
"Ah," Iceland smiled, "What's your name?"
She seemed to hesitate, "Call me Ned," she said carefully after much deliberation
"I am called Emil," Iceland said, reaching out a hand. She accepted his handshake. "Would you like to get some coffee?" Ned tilted her head to the side. "um…I mean…er." He heard a few adults chuckling behind him. His face flushed a bright pink and went even darker as Ned chuckled.
"Okay," she said, standing up, "Have a place in mind?"
"Uh, yes."
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Twenty minutes later Iceland had ignored his phone buzzing three times so he could focus on his date. Ned wasn't one for speaking much and he found for the first time in a while he had to lead the conversation. She listened well, nodding as he spoke and huffing out a quiet little laugh every so often. It was much better than listening to Norway run over the minutes of the meeting.
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America ducked his head down to hide his wide grin. Across the street in a little sidewalk café sat one of his younger daughters and the island nation of Iceland. It was amusing and he couldn't imagine how he'd gotten North Dakota to agree. Well, part it might be due to Iceland's relatively exotic beauty. She seemed to be enjoying herself and if he was reading her body language right she might be developing the slightest of crushes. If the situation turned out to be similar to New York's and Lilly's he'd have a hell of a time explaining how Iceland was dating his state. Mr. Puffin was resting outside on a bike handle and watching as his master smiled even wider.
"Which one is that?" America jerked to see Finland standing behind him with Sweden at his side. "I've never met her." America relaxed.
"That's North Dakota."
"On a date with Iceland to," Finland mused, "You should go up to her and tell her it is time to leave just to see Iceland's reaction."
"Maybe in an hour or so, they look like they're having fun."
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Iceland was a little glad of his dates reticent attitude. She'd said a quiet thank you to the waiter and ten minutes later the boy was slumped in an empty booth snoring away. Iceland knew he needed to get Ned to Norway to see if there was a way to dampen the magic. He wondered if Ned even knew if she had magic, probably not.
"Hey sweetie," his musings were cut off at a voice he recognized but at the same time didn't. A strong hand appeared and settled on Celeste's shoulder. His eyes trailed up to meet with a mischievous grin, "It's time to head back to the hotel."
"Hey dad," Ned said, "Looks like I've got to go Emil." She stood and held out a hand, "It was real swell meeting you."
'The pleasure was mine,' Iceland said also jumping to his feet, pulling out a pen he scrawled an email address onto a napkin, "If you want to talk again feel free to email me."
"Sure thing." Iceland watched in total shock as America wrapped an arm around her shoulder while flashing him a wink.
"So," he heard the Superpower say, "Did you have fun?"