A/N: "Brennt barn forðast eldinn" translates to "The burnt child fears the fire".

I guess I should state my fan names…

Iceland - Egill/Egil Ingólfsson

Norway - Sigurðr/Sigurd Thorvaldson

Denmark - Malte/Mathias Andersen

(in the middle ages) Sweden - Bjarni Nilsson.

Personally, I've used both Tino and Timo for Finland, but I prefer Timo cuz it looks cuter and I think Finland is a big fluffy ball of ugu.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.


It was the later half of the ninth century. Three young teenaged boys were gathered around a small fire. One was lying on his back, half dozing, a second beside the first, on his stomach with his chin rested in his hands and a grin plastered on his face. The third sat across from them, slumped over in a sort of drowse himself. It was silent until a man walked into the hut with a message for one of them.

"Which of you is…Sigurðr?" the messenger spoke up, to be immediately responded to by two of the boys pointing at the one lying on his back.

Sigurðr opened an eyelid to look at who wanted him, his deep blue eyes showing as little emotion as the blank expression on his face. "What is it?" He sat up to address the visitor.

"Harald wanted you to know: we've received reports that the Iceland settlement is growing. The people simply aren't happy with our own country and are leaving for that island."

"They aren't happy because of Harald wanting to unify the country."

"I'm just a messenger, I'm not here to opinionate, sir."

"Oh, it's not an opinion. I know what they feel." The boy smirked a little, before making a shooing motion toward the man. "Your job is done. I have no reply to the king."

Once the man left, the grinning boy next to him spoke up. "Norge, why aren't you bothered by that? Your people are leaving. They're leaving you."

He rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Maybe once you get a brain, you'll get it. Don't you understand our existence? With the settlement, a new nation is sure to be born there, and they will be my little brother or sister."

The third boy then spoke, his voice slow and heavy. "Norge's right. 'Tis a Norwegian settlement after all…"


Approaching two decades of settlement in Iceland, people were moving around as the small village seemed to flow with a sort of its own life. From far above, you would probably see a human ant colony in slow motion. The people seemed contented with this little world they created for themselves.

Then from behind a tree on the outskirts of the village, a small child of about four appeared. With white-blond hair and shining, deep blue eyes, he was dressed in only a white robe and a gold pendant hanging from around his neck that seemed far too big for him. He stayed away from the motion, drawn to the people, but at the same time nervous. His stomach growled and he looked down at it, then took a step of faith into the mix of humans. Almost immediately, he was found by a woman who recognized him as not belonging to the village. She scooped him up in her arms and asked a simple question. "Who are you, child?"

The little boy was obviously flustered. Squirming, he only responded in a begging to be putting down. She insisted he only wished to help him and eventually grew comfortable in her arms. "My name…I am…I am Ice-… My name is Egill."

"Egill? You aren't from around here, are you? Who's son are you?"

"I am just Egill. And I'm hungry."

She figured that the poor child simply didn't know his father's name, and had wandered off and got lost. "Come, Egill. Let's go see someone who can help you find your home again."

The woman hurriedly carried the boy across the town to the place where the chieftain of the little settlement sat. After she set the child down, he clutched onto the pendant with all his strength and shyly looked up to the distinguished man before him.

The woman spoke quickly. "I found this child alone and he cannot answer me as to where he came from. I trust your judgment in this situation, sir."

The man examined the boy and beckoned for him to come closer. "Child, who are you?" He had a hunch as to his identity simply based on his appearance. Earlier in the year, he had been visited by a young teen who was looking for a child that might fit this description: dressed in white, three or four years of age, possibly with a pendant engraved with the words 'af blóði er kraftr'.

The boy walked straight up to the man and spoke in a steady yet quiet voice. "I am this nation, I am Iceland. My name is Egill. You're my boss?"

Reaching for the gold chain, the inscribed wording confirmed his identity for the man. "Yes Egill, I am a chief of this island. I have just one question. Where is your mother?"

The question made the boy bow his head to the ground and frown. "My mother…is gone. All she left me is this." He referred to the distinguishing pendant.

Reaching his arms out to the child, he offered him his comfort. "My name is Ingólfr. Your brother from Norway came looking for you not long ago. I'll send a message."


Several weeks passed with the child staying in that village, the time it took to send back for the brother and then to cross back over the ocean him.

As soon as the boat was near the shore, Norway was already out and running for the child, calling out for him as loud as he could. "Island! Island, I came for you!" Though he bewildered the townsfolk, he could perfectly remember where he was looking for. Coming to the main house, he didn't bother to announce himself, instead he just burst in. There in a corner was the child, contentedly playing with a stick. He held back a brief moment to watch him. The boy was a striking child, the same soft blond hair, creamy skin and blue eyes that Sigurðr had also inherited from their mother. The mother that left him as a child himself and he had desperately wanted to find again. Unable to contain himself anymore, he dove to hold the child. "Island, I'm so happy I found you." Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke.

The boy looked up at him, his face showing neither shock nor joy. "Are you…bróðir?"

"Yes… Yes, I am…Bróðir."

"My name is Egill, Bróðir.""

"Egill… Did Mamma give you that name?"

"Mamma's gone, Bróðir. She said she couldn't come back."

"Gone…dead? Did she die?" His voice filled with sudden desperation.

"She never came home again. She wasn't right anymore." For such a young age, Egill showed remarkable reasoning and had little trouble speaking well. Even for being born in such a harsh landscape, it was apparent that his mind already worked like a mousetrap.

"Come back home with me then, Egill. I don't want you left alone out here."

"No…"

"No?"

"No, Bróðir, I'm staying here. This is my home. Come visit me when you're not busy."

"But Is-"

"I'll miss you, but I'm staying here. Come back as much as you want."

"But you're so small. You can't live alone."

"I'll stay with Ingólfr."

"A human's life is only so long. What will you do when he dies?"

"Bróðir… What would I do when you left out for freebooting? You can't take a child out there." There was a slight hint of a smirk on the boy's face.

Sigurðr was taken aback that the child already knew this about him and couldn't formulate an argument. "…Alright. I'll come back to see you."

The boy wrapped his small arms around his brother's neck and kissed his temple. "When are you going home, Bróðir?"

"I… I guess I can stay a few days."


In the few days, little Egill had his brother recite him tales of old, stories of his life, and exactly how things were back at his home. He was fascinated by this world that sounded so different from his own. When their parting came, he made Sigurðr promise to bring him back things from his world — sweets, cats, toys… — and to come back with more stories. He wanted him to also bring back the two other boys he spent his time with, but it wasn't a promise as Sigurðr couldn't force them to come if they willed not to. Their last moments together had both the child and his older brother in tears. For Sigurðr, he hadn't found Mamma, but she was replaced by a dear baby he couldn't help but feel obligated to take as his own. For Egill, he found the family he knew he had, but feared he would never find.

Though he loved his brother dearly, Egill was born of an identity of rebels who fled Norway in protest and outcasts that had nowhere else to go. In other words, his existence would always be diametrically opposed to that dear brother, as he was born in defiance to him. Even at his tender age, he knew it, as all nations always knew what they were born for, no matter their physical age.

As Harald Fairhair had swept through Norway, uniting previously separate tribes and mini-kingdoms, establishing a solid state, people became upset with the changes. Rather than revolt against the king, many set their eyes to the so-called ice land to the west. There they would establish a society without one man in control, a society that would come to have the world's first parliament in coming years, where they would fear no dictatorship or autocratic rule, since power was distributed over the land. In a way, they foresaw the problems that would arise in the lands they had left.

And so their national personification embodied these traits. He was by nature rebellious, rejecting authority over him, suspicious of kings and organized governments, and possessed the intuition to resolve and prevent this from happening to himself. He was a loner, being far removed from anyone else, independent in every sense of the word, and incredibly intelligent. And contrary to what one would think by that description, the child was also very charming. Carrying around him an air of dignity and mystery, he could make anyone love him. He suffered nothing as he got whatever he wanted from anyone. He was adored by everyone in the village he took up residence in and everywhere else he went. Friendly and witty, he knew he was special, he knew he was beloved by all his people, and he knew how to use it to his advantage. Even in this condemning land of fire and ice, he never suffered, never had a worry. He had anything he could have asked for.


A/N:In my headcanon, Iceland looked a lot more like Norway as a child, but his appearance changed as he got older. I'll explain it in later chapters.

Also, contrary to popular fandom, I don't think Norway found Iceland when the Norwegians found the island, cuz I don't think he would have been born yet. Complex headcanon I can't be bothered to explain.

Please don't take everything I write to be set in stone facts as to real history. 1) I'm inferring from stuff I've read 2) I didn't exist in the viking age, so I don't know exactly what really happened. We all know historical records are biased anyway. You could say this is artistic license, I'm just trying to write something enjoyable to read.

Norge = Norway

af blóði er kraftr = from blood, power

Island = Iceland

bróðir = brother

I used modern languages cuz I'm kinda lazy and I don't know what the equivalents would be in Old Norse, Old Danish, blah blah. Forgive me.

~Butter~