I do not own Iceland, or any of the characters in Hetalia.
However, if I did.
Well. ;D
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Quiet, composed, cool-headed, all of these were words that one could use to describe this very Icelandic. Some, who have yet to hear the boy speak, still see him as a polite individual with an unusual love for his puffins. Those who have heard the small boy speak, know his words are ice cold and carry heavy threats upon them.
However, the Icelandic keeps to himself most days never bothering to voice his cruel opinions on the people who tried to take his land. It wasn't often that even one person would see his warm and passionate insides enough to understand he doesn't mean ninety percent of the words that fall from his sharp tongue. Needless to say, the Icelandic didn't have many friends.
He was use to the feeling of being lonely. The feeling of complete desperation for someone, anyone, to reconize his feelings, and maybe take a chance to understand what type of person he really had come to be. Although, he would not complain. He would not yell. He would not cry. As long as his fellow Nordics remained happy, he could on throughout his days without a word, complaint, or tear.
Somedaysweren't as easy as others.
Yes, he did too have those days. The days when he would be invited to his so-called 'brothers' and as always he would show up.
Denmark and Sweden would argue, picking fights over the smallest things. Finland would try to converse with both Iceland and Norway, as usual. They would go on like this for hours until Sweden finally decided to leave with Finland. Usually, an hour later, Denmark would leave with Norway and the strong little Icelandic just wasn't strong anymore.
There, he would be left alone, only a puffin to keep him sane. Of course, then, even Iceland would shed a tear or two. He would recall the days when he wasn't like this, and was able to remain composed even when his 'family' wasn't around to see.
It was rather surprising. After all the years they'd been around Iceland, they still couldn't understand him. They had simply called him boring, told him he was no fun.
No, he wasn't always so 'boring'. It took years for him to perfect the art of being 'no fun at all'.
It took years of him walking on his worst fears, the scenes of which still play in the back of his head, at the times he wants it the least. The scenes of the man he loved, the man he held so much admiration and compassion for, 'taking' the other members of his 'family'.
As much as his heart might have broke, he found himself unable to cry. No, he did quite the opposite. The Icelandic found it harder to display his emotion, than to simply cry about it. The more he saw these scenes unfold, the harder it became to admit he may of loved Denmark.
No, he never loved that idiot. He couldn't ever fall for someone so insensitive, stupid, controlling...
But even Iceland knew that he would be lying to himself.
The small white haired man knew his brother was far better than him,but he would not whine. He would not fall to the maturity level of that half-witted Danish man.
As much as he attempted to deceive himself, mislead himself just to keep alive ; There was one thing he couldn't delude himself to not believe.
If a day were to come, a day where Denmark wanted to 'take' him, he wouldn't struggle.
Even if he was just a replacement.
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I really don't like this. D:
