Two months after the party, Iceland found himself lying on the cold tile floors of the Alþingishúsið bathroom. He was supposed to be in a parliamentary meeting right now but instead, he was fighting off a bout of nausea while one of his senators knocked rapidly on the stall door and called his name.
He had been feeling sick for the last five days or so. Well...okay, he'd been feeling gross for about three weeks, but Iceland didn't really count the fatigue and dizzy spells as part of his illness. Five days ago was when the nausea and vomiting started, and so five days ago was when he had gotten sick. Five day was, in his mind, also a short enough time that he should be able to just walk it off instead of going to the doctor. His human senators, however, seemed to disagree.
Knock knock knock
"Mr. Iceland?"
Knock knock knock
"Mr. Iceland are you alright? You did go to the doctors yesterday like I said you should didn't you?"
Iceland groaned and pulled himself up off the floor. He whipped his mouth with the back of his tie and rearranged his suit so it looked less wrinkled. Iceland did not like hospitals, so he figured it was in his best to look presentable. If he looked well enough maybe it would convince the man on the other side of the door that he was okay.
"I'm fine senator Jónsson," he mumbled, unlatching the stall door and stumbling out, "I must have eaten something bad."
"Hmmm," the politician said, crossing his arms and giving his nation the stink eye, "and I suppose you've just eaten something bad for the last week?"
"It hasn't been a week."
"It's close enough. Come on, I'm taking you to the doctors."
"What!? No! I'm fine okay. And anyway aren't you supposed to be on the floor? They're talking about an important bill out there, you need to vote."
"You are not fine. And that 'important bill' is about puffin tchotchkes. I think I can miss this one. Come on, we're going.
"Fine," Iceland conceded, giving a deep sight, "but we better not miss anything important while we're gone."
"Of course not sir. I'll have you back as soon as possible."
The nation nodded wearily and the two men headed out of the building.
Iceland flipped through an issue of Better Homes and Gardens while he waited for his doctor to appear with test results.
About half an hour ago the physician had asked for a blood sample and left him to wait. Now, after 30 minutes of sitting on an exam table and staring at the motivational posters on the walls, the door opened and the doctor walked in with a manila envelope in hand.
"Well congratulation Mr. Iceland," she said with a smile, "You're pregnant."
"Excuse you?" Iceland asked, sure he had heard her wrong.
"Well exactly what I said, sir. You're going to have a baby."
"No, I'm not," Iceland replied immediately, certain that his denial was justified. He was on T. He couldn't be pregnant.
The doctor gave him a baffled look, "Oh, uh, pardon me, sir, I see you're not planning to keep it."
"No, I mean I'm not pregnant," Iceland elaborated, "I can't be. I've been on testosterone for decades now."
"Oh, well uh," the doctor began, rubbing her hand across her neck in discomfort, "That's actually a very common misconception. You see taking testosterone can make it harder to get pregnant, but it doesn't actually make you infertile unless you take a fairly large dose, and even then it's not permanent."
"But-but," Iceland stuttered as the doctor's statement hit him, "I…I haven't had a period since the 90's. This doesn't make any sense."
"Well, that is curious…was there anything different about your last injection?"
"Well, uh, yeah…I was having bad mood swings so I used a lower dosage of T the last few times."
"That explains it," said the doctor with finality, "Your new dosage must not be enough to prevent ovulation."
Iceland nodded slowly as he took in the information. He was…pregnant…and he hadn't slept with anyone since the party so that meant it must be…. America's. Oh, holy shit this was not good.
"Mr. Iceland," The doctor said, breaking his train of thought, "I think you should be aware that you are eligible for an abortion if you want one. You're only 10 weeks along and you're not physically 18 yet, so the law is on your side."
"I'll uh…I'll think about it," he gulped.
"You have 6 weeks left to decide. It becomes illegal after that, so don't dawdle."
The younger man nodded hesitantly before taking the manilla envelope from the doctor and stumbling out into the waiting room. He thought he should be feeling panicked, or excited, or something, but instead he just felt numb. Pregnant. What was he supposed to do with that? What was he supposed to think?
He was so out of it that he almost walked right passed Senator Jónsson in the waiting room, only stopping when the older man tapped him on the shoulder with a concerned look.
"Are you alright sir?"
"I-ah..yeah."
"What did the doctor say?"
"He said that I'm-" Iceland started, before thinking better of it and giving the politician a week smile, "You know what, it's a long story. I'm gonna take the bus home. I'll see you tomorrow."
Jónsson blinked in surprise, "But I thought you didn't want to miss anything."
"I...I didn't, but, uh, some of the stuff the doctor said made me change my mind," he lied. In reality, he just needed some time to think, but Jónsson didn't need to know that.
"Oh, well, okay, I hope you feel better than."
"Okay, thank you. See you tomorrow."
The nation gave small wave goodbye before heading to the nearest bus stop. It was a bit of a walk, but he was so lost in thought that he barely noticed.
Should he get an abortion? The obvious answer was yes of course. He was 17, he was single, he could barely take care of his houseplants let alone a baby, the father was someone he barely talked to outside of parties and conferences, and most importantly, he had been hiding the fact he was trans from the world for centuries. If he let this pregnancy continue everyone would find out and they would judge him. His fellow nations and politicians might purposefully misgender him, or worse yet, they could hurt him, or exclude him from political meeting. It was hard to think about, but he knew that most of the other personifications weren't as accepting as his brothers.
But then again, he thought as he got onto the bus and sat down next to a woman with a giggling baby in her lap, kids were kind of...nice. Sure he had never really wanted kids before, but then, he had never really thought about it. He did know that he wanted to have bottom surgery sometime in the future, and after that, there would be no way for him to have biological children. Depending on what he did in the future, this could be his only chance to have kids.
He could adopt if he ever wanted to… but most of the kids up for adoption were humans not nations. The few personifications that had been adopted, like Sealand, were the exception, not the rule. In all likelihood, if he adopted his child would only be around for a few decades before dying like most humans did.
He could, if he really felt like it, obtain a colony...but unless you were lucky enough to find an uninhabited piece of land, having a colony usually involved killing another country. Iceland didn't think he would ever be up to that.
But you don't even know if you'll want kids in the future Iceland reminded himself. The vague possibility that you might want kids someday, is not a good reason to bring a child into the world.
He was just concluding that he should, in fact, get an abortion when the one-year-old next to him began to gurgle and clap its hands. It was ridiculously cute and it broke his resolve.
Anything that sweet and adorable can't be that bad can it? He thought, maybe I should continue the pregnancy? That little guy looks so delightful...
So against his better judgment, Iceland decided he would wait a week to decide. That will be enough time, he concluded, I'll know by then.
He didn't know by then.
This should have been expected really. Between frequent morning sickness and work, Iceland hadn't had much time to think, and even when he did have a moment to sit down and mull over his situation he wasn't the best at making big decisions.
Really he just wanted to call his brothers and have them tell him what to do. They always did what they thought was best for him, he knew they would make the right call. But recently Iceland had been trying to prove to his brothers that he was grown up enough to be left to his own devices, and grownups made their own decisions.
So seven days after his doctor visit Iceland sat down at his kitchen table, pulled a 5 krona piece out of his pocket, and flipped a coin like a goddamned adult.
Tails I get an abortion, fish and I keep it, he thought to himself, holding his breath as the coin flipped in the air.
When the Krona finally landed the side facing him showed a pair of jumping dolphins. Fish. He was going to have a baby.
God, he thought, stuffing the krona back into his pocket, if Norway ever finds out about my decision-making process he's gonna fucking slap me.
But for now Norway didn't know. Nobody knew about his predicament except for him and his doctor, and that knowledge was equal parts lonely and terrifying.
He leaned back in his chair and sighed. The next seven months we're gonna be one hell of a roller coaster.
AN:I want to be very clear that I know next to nothing about Icelandic politics so I'm just pretending that the Icelandic parliament works the same way the American Senate does (even if that's probably wrong).
In other news, Icelandic abortion laws are much stricter than I expected them to be. Like you can't just get one, you have to actually submit a reason for why you want one and it can't just be "I don't want a kid right now".
Anyways, thanks for reading!
Reviews are always appreciated!
