A/N: Hello, Wolf here. I was in the mood for a Norway/Iceland story, so I decided to write one. This story is a major AU. – Wolf
White Magic
Chapter 1 : Who Are You?
The silver-haired boy was standing at his bookcase; he leaned towards it in search of a certain book. He was looking for one of his favorites, a story with lots of fighting and history, those were the kinds of books Iceland enjoyed reading whenever the weather was as bad as it was today. Iceland couldn't find the book, so he pulled out a different one at random. The spine of the book was blue, with shiny silver lettering and golden trim. He ran his fingers over the title, "White Magic." Iceland looked at the book some more; he didn't own a book called White Magic, and he certainly had never seen this book before.
Iceland flipped the book open to the front inside cover, there was some writing on the cover that said, "This book belongs to…Norway." Now Iceland was confused, he didn't know who Norway was, he had never heard of Norway before. Iceland took the book back into his sitting room, still wondering how a stranger's book ended up in his bookcase. Iceland laid down on one of his couches and opened the book up to the first page, where a normal book would start. There was only one line on the page. Iceland read it out loud; he lived alone, so reading out loud was something he did so that he didn't feel so alone. Iceland read the line, "It will seem, although I've never been to real life, very different from real life." Iceland stared at the line quizzically, the sentence made absolutely no sense to him.
Iceland started flipping through the book with the puzzling first sentence, he went to the second page. It was blank. The third page was next. It was also blank. And the fourth page? Just as blank as the three before it. Iceland started quickly thumbing through the entire book, but all the pages were blank, he tried it forwards and backwards multiple times. After about the fourth flip-through, he noticed some writing on one of the pages. He flipped back to it and read it, "Wondering why the pages are all blank? That's because it's not my story. It's yours." Iceland looked at the script, the ink still looked wet. To test his theory Iceland swiped a finger across the blot of ink that made up the period after the word "yours." Ink smeared on the page and on his finger.
Iceland tossed the book in front of him and jumped up. First the book with an owner he had never heard of, then the riddle of a sentence on the first page, and now the book had fresh ink on one of the pages. As he was staring at the book in complete horror, it started snowing in his house. At first he didn't think anything of the snow, until it occurred to him that he was currently standing inside of his house, and it wasn't supposed to snow inside of houses. He looked up to see the dark night sky. The roof of his small cottage had disappeared.
He screamed in surprise. Then he started to hear books fall out of his bookcase, or at least, he thought they were falling from his bookcase. The books that had fallen were currently scattered at his feet, not anywhere near their usual resting place. Iceland knelt down to pick up the books, and had only picked up a couple when he heard a snicker. A shadow appearing on his wall made him drop the books in fear. He followed the shadow with his eyes and watched it disappear behind one of his large decorative plants. Iceland was beyond terrified, someone was in his home, and was currently hiding behind his plant.
Iceland didn't really know what else to do but approach it, he started to creep towards it when a hand floated out to stop him. The hand didn't have an arm connected to it, or a body. It floated in front of him and waved a finger at him in a scolding manner. Iceland heard a cold voice say, "Don't come any closer. Just stand there and watch this." Iceland nodded and did what the hand told him to do. Iceland was now positive that he was just dreaming.
The hand moved past Iceland and hovered over the books. The hand didn't make any motion to pick up the books, but a blue, bubble-like aura started to form in front of the hand's palm. The voice started to chant an unknown chant in an unknown language and the blue aura got brighter and brighter until it got to the point that Iceland had to shield his eyes in order to keep from going blind. Then, in one big flash, his house was back in order, the snow that had started to accumulate on his floor was gone, his roof was back, and the books that had been scattered on the floor were gone. The hand still remained though.
Iceland watched the hand as it floated back to its owner, who was still hiding behind his plant. Iceland approached the plant cautiously, but was still too scared to actually look behind it. He then heard a sigh and the intruder stepped out from behind the plant. Iceland's first instinct was to attack the person for breaking into his home and causing all of this mess, but the second Iceland looked into the person's steel blue, emotionless eyes, he was entranced to the point that he couldn't really move. He looked at the man standing in front of him. He didn't look to be much older than Iceland was himself. He had blonde hair that was just a bit longer in the front than Iceland's was, and he had half of it pinned to the side, fastened with a silver cross-shaped clip. Iceland looked at what he was wearing; it was a simple get-up, navy colored pants with a matching sailor-suit top and hat.
The man's neutral face only broke to mouth one word, a name actually, "Iceland," the man then took a step towards Iceland, and in fear and defense, Iceland put his hands up. Iceland felt the warmth of the other man's hands as they interlaced with his own. The man pulled Iceland towards him and made sure that they were very close, close enough for their noses to touch. The man's dark eyes stared straight into Iceland's violet ones, "Keep looking into my eyes." The man said, "Whatever you do, don't break your stare." That was the last thing the mysterious man said before the two of them shot up into the air and through the roof of Iceland's home. The man removed one of his hands from Iceland's, but Iceland didn't break his gaze. He knew that couldn't even if he tried to, because he did try to. The man lifted his hand up and the strange blue book flew right into it.
The next thing Iceland knew, the two of them had landed on a luscious green hilltop, dotted with rainbow colored flowers. The man closed his eyes and told Iceland that he could break the stare. Iceland closed his eyes and let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding. This caused him to collapse onto the soft, white surface they had been standing on. Once this realization dawned on him, Iceland shot straight up; he had thought they landed in a green meadow, painted with colorful flowers. He ran his hand over the fluffy white surface he sat on, it felt like nothing, but yet it could still support his weight. He looked around, he couldn't see anything except for water surrounding their current vehicle, and the green meadows that flanked either side of the water.
Iceland turned to look at the man, who was currently staring at the book he had in his hands. The man then answered Iceland's unvoiced question, "We're floating on a cloud, headed down the Mercury River." Iceland couldn't believe what he had just heard. A cloud? Mercury River? He was certain he was dreaming now, or that somehow he had been drugged, for there was no way that this was real life.
Iceland sighed and rubbed his temples, he had so many questions, but one stuck out more than the others, "Alright," Iceland said, "I've got a lot of questions, but I'm going to ask you the most important one first." Iceland stared at the man, who hadn't looked away from the blue book.
The man nodded and turned to look at Iceland, "Okay." He said, "It will be the only question I answer too. I refuse to answer more than one."
This statement made Iceland think about the question he was going to ask, but he decided to go with the question he was going to ask in the first place. "Who are you?" Was the question Iceland had decided on.
The man held up the book and opened it to the inside cover. He pointed to where it said "This Book Belongs to…Norway." The man looked over at Iceland, "I," the man said, "am Norway."