The Music Within
For those who had met him, it was obvious that my brother was very… impassive. In meetings, or just in general to be honest, he was often aloof, abrupt even. The sort of person who does not leave a pleasant first impression on someone.
He was like that when he was around me, though having spent much longer around him than most; I could read the subtle changes in his eyes and movements rather well. He seemed more affectionate with me, slightly more open with his emotions, but still managed to stay calm and stoic. Of course, there was always the constant reminder that I was younger than him and that patronizing glint in his eyes when he reminded me, something that I loathed more than anything else in life, but was slightly more tolerant of when we were alone.
He was a secretive person, or so he tried to be. It was remarkably easy to track him down when he vanished, though whether you wanted him to notice you was up to you.
I always chose not to be noticed.
You see, when he was alone, my brother became different person entirely. When it was on hand, he could spend hours playing his violin, his most treasured possession besides his beloved hair clip.
Even I'm not considered to be a sentimental person, in fact, I'm often described as being the exact opposite, but I think there is something about his actual way of playing that, I don't know, touches me, maybe? His playing makes the kind of music that can either make you want to rush about in sheer joy, or cry alone in a corner for hours.
It was almost like he let his very soul play.
He would become entranced in his own little world, singing sometimes, as he played tunes which had become embedded in his mind, he played them so much. It was an unusual sight, seeing him so expressive. It was like the violin opened up his heart, his mind, his spirit, with eyes and face so full of emotions that were otherwise invisible. So full of emotions that they leaked out through his voice as he sang.
He was... hauntingly beautiful to watch.
But then he would stop, sigh maybe, the emotions that had once been so obvious would harden back into nothing. The music was gone, he had nothing left, and he'd just pack his violin away with utmost care and continue on with his day. But I'd make sure I was there again the next time he vanished, to hear the music he kept within himself.
I'm not the only Hetalia fangirl who thinks Norway is a skilled violinist, right? Of course not! It's practically established fanon. So here's a (really) short drabble from Iceland's POV to give a quick, I dunno, character study? I think that's what it is. I always sort of imagined Nor to have a really lovely singing voice too, don't ask why XD
Random Headcannon: every country can play at least one instrument to a fairly high standard. Austria has been trying to form an orchestra with them for years, but to no avail.