The world meeting was as heated as ever, Norway noted as he took a sip of his coffee. He was sitting in a corner, a table flipped over to provide some cover and make sure he didn't get blood on his book. If the horizontal table legs hadn't already been propped against the wall behind him, the table would have hit him painfully in the side as some large nation was thrown into it. It only shook a bit, just enough to cause him to spill some of his coffee over his fingers. If he hadn't lost the feeling in his fingers seventy years ago, he would probably have cried out in pain. Now he just shook his head and mourned over the wasted drink.
"You're not joining in, Norvegia?" Russia asked quizzically, peeking over the table. Norway shook his head and wiped his stained fingers on his handkerchief.
"I'll pledge neutral in this one, if you don't mind."
"Ah, of course, you Nordics seem to like pledging neutral, da? But forgive me if I am confused, each time you do it, you always end up fighting both sides?" Russia cocked his head sideways.
"Isn't that what neutral means? Not settling for one side?"
"Nyet, it means not fighting at all!"
"It does? That sounds boring." Norway put his cup away and closed his book. The sounds of the fight hadn't dimmed, but he'd always been good at ignoring them. "It's much better to fight all sides than commit to one fully. That way, nobody can hold you accountable for anything." Russia's eyes widened.
"That is... surprisingly smart. But how do you do that? You can't be in all places at once?"
"Of course not."
"Then how do you do it?"
"I have the others doing it of course?"
"What others?"
Norway raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused. "Are you telling me that you only have one personification?"
"There was one other guy, named Victor or something." Russia seemed deep in thought, ducking sideways to avoid a flying knife. It stuck into the table, not piercing it completely. "My 2p, I think he called himself, but I called him Soviet. He was hard to kill, but nothing my magical metal pipe of pain couldn't handle." Russia smiled absentmindedly and waved the pipe in question. It was completely encrusted in blood. Norway ignored it.
"Exactly. Victor is another part of yourself, since you couldn't fight both sides at the same time, just like America faced down his 2p, the Confederation during his civil war."
"But Norvegia, you make it sound like you are cooperating with your 2p." Russia had climbed over the table and sat down across from Norway, intrigued by these news. He'd always wondered where Victor came from, and why he looked so much like him. At the time, Russia had simply thought he was a whole new nation, not caring that he appeared fully grown instead of as a chibi.
"Of course I cooperate with him. We've known each other since before I was a country. A great ally during the viking age, I must say. And of course, he isn't the only one."
"Are you saying you have more than one 2p?"
"Are you saying you only have one? Of course there is more than one personification of Norway. There's Loke, Lone and Liv, plus a handful of others with a more restricted area, like Erika, Sunna-Rávdná and Maud. From what I've gathered, most nations have more than one personification, but they eventually disappear when one takes complete control."
"But you didn't take complete control?"
"Of course I didn't. During the viking age, Lone, Loke, Liv and I became rather good friends, and decided to split the responsibilities between the four of us. I took the viking raids, Loke took the trade, Liv organised expeditions and Lone took care of everything back home. When the time came to gather Norway into one country, we drew straws on who should represent us. I drew the shortest one and ended up in charge. The others handle internal affairs and other small jobs, while I work on international relations. During wartime, we split up and fight all sides."
"Fascinating. Care to elaborate, Norvegia?" Russia asked.
9th April 1940
"Lukas! Germany is making war on all of Europe!" Liv, the young redhead waved a newspaper in Lukas's sleepy face. Lukas massaged his temples and sat up in his bed, wishing Liv would calm down a bit.
"I know. It started last year."
"Yes, but now he's coming here!"
"What?"
"I just heard it on the radio. German ships have attacked Drøbak. The boys at Oscarsborg managed to sink one, but they've already landed." Lukas was out of bed in an instant, dressing as quickly as he could. Liv made no move to leave as he ran to his office, grabbing a cup of coffee on the way.
"Anything else I need to know?"
"Oh, yes. Vidkun Quisling just performed a coup. He's in charge now." Lukas spat out his coffee.
"Maybe tell me that first, next time?" Liv looked flustered.
"I thought maybe the invasion was more important!?"
"No matter. Does Quisling now about us?"
"I don't think so."
"Excellent." Lukas was already making plans. "Don't tell him either. If Germany himself is coming here, it would be better if he didn't know where we are. Or that there is more than one of us for that matter." He thought for a while. "No, wait. If he can't find me, he won't let a stone remain unturned until he finds me."
Picking up the phone, he called Loke in Kristiansand. "Loke, get to Oslo as quick as you can. I want you to pose as me. Germany is pretty much winning this war, so be as helpful as you can." He slammed the phone down and then picked it up again.
"Lone, are you still in Karasjok? No? We're being invaded. You're in charge of the army and resistance. If the Allies win this war, I want you to make sure we can pose as a victim, not a collaborator. Yes, I'll get the king out of the country and help them during their exile. Loke will be our double agent, while Liv will be the full collaborator."
He put down the phone again and looked at Liv. "Go and sign yourself into the NS party. I want you to pose as a human and get us in their good books. Be welcoming, and get a german boyfriend if you can." Liv nodded in affirmative.
"Make sure the germans have no reason to punish anyone. It'll be your job to keep food rations high and executions low, okay?" Liv nodded.
"Are you sure Lone and the army can't just throw them out?"
"The Third Reich have a hundred times the power we have. I'm afraid we'll be occupied rather quickly, and then we rely on you. And if we throw them out and they win the war, which they very well might, we'll be in a lot of trouble. Now go!" Liv turned and ran to get her coat, while Lukas did his calls to get the king out. England seemed a good destination.
Two years later.
The waves were towering over the ship, and the night so dark that if Lukas hadn't been in constant radio contact he would have thought he'd lost the convoi. They'd been on sea for a week now, and the wolf packs of german submarines had already picked off the weaker ships. They hadn't seen any Condor planes for a while now, but Lukas wouldn't feel remotely safe before he himself was standing on land in Russia.
It had stopped snowing, but the arctic night was still freezing and the wind dropped the perceived temperature so far beneath 0 *C that Lukas had stopped looking at the thermometer.
"Bo'sun! Do you hear that?" Lukas whirled around to face Andersen, a kid no more than eighteen that happened to be their lookout.
Helvete! The whining sound seemed to grow in his ears as he ran to the starboard bow. How had he not heard them before? The Stuka bombers had already dived, ready to launch their torpedoes. The ice-cold fingers of fear locked around his heart as he watched them get closer and closer. A direct hit would be all it took, and their ship would be on the bottom of the ocean.
"Call it in! Quickly!" He had to yell to be heard over the howling wind and the planes. There wasn't much of Andersen's face visible under scarves, goggles, hats and hood, but the terror was radiating around him. The ship rolled over another wave, but Lukas's sealegs were good enough to keep him on his feet. Andersen wasn't so lucky. The boy fell sideways and hit his head on the railing, falling over it and into the swallowing sea.
Were the crew sleeping? There hadn't been any incident for a long time, and they might finally have relaxed enough to close their eyes. If they did, they would all be dead.
"Man the guns!" Lukas yelled into the intercom when he got onto the bridge. The Captain was still sick, and he was in charge. He knew it was far too late to do any damage, but if he was to go down, he would go down fighting.
"Got it Bo'sun!" Johannes, the best gunman in the crew wasn't sleeping on his post, at least. Although they weren't a warship, but with Johannes they could very well be. But where the hell was their british escort?
A sudden burst of fire across from them answered the question perfectly. Too distracted by the Stukas on the starboard side, he hadn't noticed the ones going for their escort on their port. Who was that again? Lukas paled considerably when he remembered. Sophia. The best equipped ship of the entire fleet was on fire, lighting up the night.
"Bo'Sun! The lifeboats are on the water! We're trying to wake the crew, but they aren't fast enough!" Someone's voice came through the radio. Lukas didn't bother hearing who. The crew were asleep. Too little time to save themselves.
"Johannes! Stop firing and get in the lifeboat!" He yelled, as Johannes had failed to hit anyone yet. "Don't bother trying to wake the others. Everyone who's up, you've got to abandon ship!" He got onto the open line in the fleet.
"This is 'Caesar'! Sophia is hit. I repeat, Sophia is hit. Stukas are on both port and starboard. We abandon ship now. Repeat: Caesar is abandoning ship!" He didn't have time to wait for the response. The Stukas had already fired their torpedoes.
Two minutes later, he was in the water. They'd been to slow, and the explosion from the ship had tilted the lifeboat and left the twenty men that had gotten on board in the freezing water. The burning rests of Caesar had sunk in seconds, and none of the sleeping crew had made it out of their quarters before it was all under water.
Lukas was clutching the tilted lifeboat, holding Johannes above water with his other arm. Johanne's lips were already blue as the thirty-something years old man was rapidly freesing to death. Sophia was still burning. The crew over there was still alive, but too busy putting out the fire to launch a rescue operation to get the poor shipless in the water.
Lukas wasn't sure he could physically die. He'd heard of nations disappearing, but not dying of cold, hunger or gunshots. Yet how could he possibly survive if he was left alone in the middle of the freezing arctic ocean? He felt numb. His finger and toes no longer felt cold. Huh.
Funny. The water didn't even feel cold anymore.
Sleep. Yes, that would be nice. Just a little nap, then he'd... do... something. Whatever.
"Incredible!" Someone british. How annoying. "How is he still alive?" Alive, huh?
"It truly is a miracle, captain. He must have been in the water for an hour." An hour? That would mean... something. Coffee.
"What did he say?" Did he say that out loud? Oh, well. Lukas opened his eyes slowly and said it again. "Coffee." A cup was pressed into his hands. Typical, it felt cold.
"Careful it's warm!" No, it's not. Lucas took a sip. It was warm. He dropped the cup, feeling it splash over him. That didn't hurt, but the light did. Closing his eyes again, he went back to sleep.
Johannes was dead. If he'd been in the water for an hour, there was no way they'd picked the others up earlier, and there was no way any of them had survived the cold. He sincerely hoped Lone, Liv and Loke did a better job than he did.
Three years later.
Peace. The germans were finally thrown out of Norway. Lukas was standing in the crows of happy crowd, sucking in the joy around him as his lips parted in a rare smile. Lone was standing beside him, bandaged like a mummy from all the burns but still proud as hell.
"JA VI ELSKER DETTE LANDET!" Someone had started singing the national anthem, and Lukas couldn't help but to join in along with four hundred patriots. A scream broke him out of his bliss. He knew that voice. Stumbling trough the crowd - who seemed to ignore the scream - he made his way towards an alley.
Liv was lying naked on the ground, clutching her chest and crying. Four men were standing above her, in the middle of cutting her long, red curls off with a knife.
"Tyskertøs!" They yelled, launching a few kicks at the poor girl. They called her worse things than that too, but Lukas blocked them out. He wanted to cry. The people hated her now, even if half of them had been just like her. Those men probably had children, who had been playing with the german soldiers, begging for candy or stories of war. Those men were definetly not from Lone's Milorg, the resistance fighters. They were just hypocrites who wanted someone to blame. Women like Liv were easy targets, but how could they have known that Germany would lose?
If Germany had won the war, would the men have kicked Liv like that? They were just like rats, abandoning ship to get to the winning side. Just like Norway itself.
"By playing both sides, we could never really lose." Norway looked at the quiet Russia beside him. "But we couldn't really win either."
"So you were never really on our side?" Russia asked after a pause. Norway shook his head.
"We fought on both sides."
"What happened to the other one? Loke?"
"Your men chaught him." Norway looked at the ground. "He joined the SS on command from Germany, and was sent to the Russian Front. They didn't know exactly what he was, and he managed to escape and come home in disguise many years later."
The meeting slash fight was dying down, causing Norway to peek up to check if the coast was clear. People looked tired, after the fight between England and France had turned into a stalemate. Grabbing his book and empty coffeecup, Norway rose to join the exhausted Nordics.
"One more question, Norvegia!" He turned to find Russia standing up too. "It was Lone I met in Finnmark, da?"
"Yes." The russian's eyes lit up in understanding.
"Ah. I did wonder why you looked like a woman. More than usual, anyway."
Norway punched him in the jaw, starting round two of the World Brawl, err... World Meeting.
Authors note:
Norway has throughout history fought all sides of conflicts. During the first world war, they were neutral, but put under immense political stress because they relied on trading with both England and Germany. During the second world war, the politician Vidkun Quisling made a deal with Hitler - if he got to be the prime minister of Norway, the germans were allowed to occupy them. The people following him were known as Quislings, in this fiction personified by Loke. Their name is now synonymous with traitor. And yes, some Quislings did join the SS and fought at the russian front.
The most famous Norvegians at the time were the members of Milorg, known as 'the boys in the woods' or Jøssinger, here personified by Lone. They were the resistance soldiers, known for blowing up the Rjukan factory and preventing Hitler from getting heavy water for nuclear bombs. Some of them were trained in England and then parachuted into Norway again, others were recruited on the streets, in classrooms and so on. Teachers often played important parts of their more covert missions.
Lukas in this story personifies the sailors. They sailed in the convois between England and Russia, constantly facing the danger of being attacked by U-boats, bomber planes or german ships. Only the soldiers at Normandie and the U-boat crew themselves suffered heavier casualities than the sailors. If you fell over board, you'd be dead in a minute in the freezing water.
Liv personifies a very dark chapter in Norvegian history. Men, women and children who didn't fight, but rather got along well with the german invaders. Many young Norvegian men disappeared to join Milorg or got shot during the invasion, leaving the women to court the germans. After the occupation ended, these women were often dragged naked out in the streets while their hair was cut off. If they had children with the germans, they were bullied, shunned and in some rare cases even killed. Only in very recent years has the Norvegian government issued a formal apology to the women known as Tyskertøser.
The winners are the ones to dictate history, and a lot of people haven't even heard of the Quislings or the Tyskertøser.
(This story is written by my sister after a joint brain storm. We have the headcannonthat Norway, fem!Norway, 2p!Norway and fem!2p!Norway are friends or family, as there is no real reason for them to dislike each other and that Norway and Russia are friends as they have never really been at war, ever.
All reviews for this story will be shown to my sister, and we hope that you enjoyed reading this story.)