Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.
Pairings: Iceland/fem!America, possibly some others.
Friday, 25 December 2015: MERRY CHRISTMAS, YA SCROOGES.
I forgot to mention this explicitly in the notes last chapter, but the storytelling about Vinland and the subsequent discussion was written to ease any concerns about this AU causing Ice/Ame to be incest if that doesn't float your boat. A cousin-ish relationship was something I thought less people would find squick than brother-sister. And although no one asked, I was originally going for a slash pairing, but during the planning stages one of my friends who also likes Hetalia commented about how adorable VikingEra!Iceland would be teaching a little sister how to be badass, and the more I thought about it the more I agreed.
Stay tuned for a humorous short after the end of the chapter.
One Thousand Years More: Chapter Twelve
Perhaps it was the difference in weather patterns over North America compared to those that controlled climate in Europe, or perhaps it was the fact that the Great Slave Lake was indeed situated further north than Stockholm. Whatever the reason, the Nordics found themselves occupied with Denmark's determination to find a frozen lake, and as they continued hiking past their third such lake, not frosted over nearly enough for Denmark's purposes, everyone was getting a little bit tired and annoyed.
Sealand, already fatigued from the walk and perched on Sweden's shoulders, suggested turning around to have lunch. Unanimous approval met with the idea, and they wearily turned themselves back towards the cabin. Tired, hungry, annoyed, and unwilling to start a conversation with anyone, Iceland slowly began to amble behind the others. When he had a few good paces between himself and the others, he took out his phone and sent America a message.
How are you?
He watched his screen carefully for a minute before he remembered the time difference between the U.S. and Sweden. If America was on the east coast, then it was… six or seven hours earlier there, he couldn't remember which. And if it was noon here, then… He repressed the urge to bury his face in his hands. Waking someone up at five or six in the morning with something as inconsequential as "how are you?" would not endear himself to anyone, least of all America. Realizing that even if she did see the message she probably wouldn't return it until a more wakeful time for her, Iceland stowed his phone again and continued trudging behind the others.
It took them almost a full hour to get back to the house, by which time all of them reached for the nearest food and basically swallowed it whole. The six of them mostly fended for themselves for lunch, throwing together a meal out of whatever they could find while Finland started constructing a shopping list and Denmark hogged anything left unclaimed for a towering smørrebrød. None of them really felt like going on another hunt for a frozen lake, although Norway enjoyed long walks outdoors and returned to the trails after eating his fill after shooting Iceland a rather frosty look. Sealand stayed behind to watch television, Finland and Sweden headed off to get some more food for the refrigerator, and Denmark set himself up in the kitchen with a newspaper, subtly "babysitting" the two youngest Nordics.
Iceland did not find that amusing in the slightest.
He escaped having someone breathe down his neck by heading up to his room, and flopped on the bed, feeling listless.
Walking around in the woods this morning had been refreshing, and returning to the house stifling. Iceland enjoyed spending time with his family when they didn't insist on reminding him how young he was in comparison to everyone else. Suddenly, it occurred to him that although Norway had promised they would continue their "conversation" later, his older brother had made no move to initiate. Was he waiting for Iceland to come to him?
Rebellion flared as the thought crossed his mind, and Iceland was half-tempted to dig in his heels and resist talking to Norway before two realizations crossed his mind. First, that Norway might not have intended that, and second, he was planning to act – or rather, not to act – based on nothing but speculation. Taking the first step, rather than putting off this conversation as long as he could, might prove to Norway his maturity.
Still, he debated. Logically, a number of reasons made it prudent to have the conversation now: to get the unpleasant dilemma out of the way, to demonstrate to Norway that Iceland was an adult, to come to a sort of accord before America got here. And yet every emotion urged him to wait; he needed to know what to say, he needed to know what kind of company he wanted when he had this talk, he needed to wait for Norway to broach the subject.
Buzzing from his phone surprised him.
In his unread messages was America's reply. I'm tired. I have to put in extra hours before we meet up with you guys/WM. What's up?
Now that he thought about it, it wasn't even 7 in the morning in Washington, D.C. Iceland raised his eyebrow. He knew America often worked late, but usually chalked it up to putting off work until the last minute. Extra hours seemed out of character for her. But he was grateful for her reply, because it allowed him to spell out his own response one letter at a time, contemplating each word as he admitted, I'm thinking about talking to Norway now.
America's reply took several minutes, all of which Iceland spent watching his phone intently.
That's good. Remember how much you love each other and remember to be honest and good luck! Things will turn out fine. :)
Well, Iceland hadn't expected any profound wisdom from her, and he knew she meant her sentiments. He snorted as he remembered her own admitted denseness about "Feelings Advice", and the irony that the atmosphere-lacking nation was the one coaching him through his convoluted relationship with Norway. So he responded with a simple Thanks. I'll let you know how it goes. Then he stowed his phone and forced himself to get out of bed and walk down the stairs, his anxiousness over the upcoming discussion fighting him every step of the way.
Denmark looked up as he walked past the kitchen and headed for the door. "Hey, where ya goin, Icey?" he asked, eyebrows raised.
"I'm going to go walk with Norway. My phone's on," Iceland replied, not quite keeping the bite out of his voice as he added that last tidbit. Denmark, oblivious to the slight spite, seemed appeased and waved him off. "Ah, fine, get outta here then."
As if he needed permission.
Armed with a warm coat and a cell phone, Iceland hurried down the local trails, keeping his eyes open for a blue jacket and a head of blond hair. It reminded him of hunting in forests similar to these, ages ago, and unconsciously his gait became more measured, his footfalls silent.
Finally, he found the frigid nation sitting on a rock at the edge of the pond, motionless as he watched the leaf buds bounce on the branches of trees. Iceland approached cautiously, unable to tell Norway's mood, as usual, and finally took a seat next to his brother. "Hey."
Norway whipped around, eyes flashing for a moment before they landed on Iceland, recognized the other nation, and returned to their dark brooding blue. "Hey."
They sat in silence for a few more minutes contemplating the pond and how to begin this much-needed discussion. Finally, Iceland took a deep breath and plunged into the deep end. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was going camping in Canada with America and Canada and Molossia."
Norway said nothing. Norway stayed silent for so long that Iceland thought he was being silent to spite him and finally glanced at him in worry, only to see his older brother seriously considering him.
"… It's fine," he said finally.
Iceland pressed his advantage. "No, it's not. When you called me, you were annoyed. And you've been ignoring me on this family trip so far. You don't like that I didn't tell you beforehand. I don't know why. Maybe you wanted to be a part of that trip, or maybe you just wanted to make sure I was safe, but the fact that I kept a secret from you hurt and it annoyed you."
Something close to a scowl warped on Norway's face, and for a moment Iceland thought he'd pushed his perpetually stoic neighbor a little too far. Psychoanalyzing his unreadable older brother to such an intense degree did not sit well with Iceland, and just verbalizing the words made it feel like he was constructing a mold in which to fit Norway inside, but the island nation had no other simple means of preamble before getting into the really heavy material. So he plowed on.
"Norge, you're my big brother," he said, and he ignored the sudden blanking and intensification of Norway's gaze in favor of pulling his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them, planting his chin on top of them, and focusing on the pond and the breeze and the stirring dead leaves. "You're always going to be my big brother. And the rest of you are all family, too." He hesitated before choking out the next words. "I… I do love you guys, you're my family, okay? And nothing's going to change that. But sometimes… sometimes you treat me like a kid, and it pisses me off. A lot."
His admission echoed in the clearing, with nothing but the wind to erase the imprint of his words. Iceland didn't dare look at Norway, didn't want to see what kind of angry expression his brother might have, didn't want to hear something self-righteous about being older right on the heels of his confession. He needed to wipe away the words with more words, so he took a shuddering breath and continued. "America invited me camping, and since I wanted some space from you guys, I went without telling you. I had a lot of fun. We went hiking, I fought a bear, I taught Molossia how to fish, we saw an amazing aurora, and we had a great bonfire. I really liked camping with them… and I want to do it again sometime."
He retreated further in on himself. "You guys really annoy me with your talk about how young I am and how I can't take care of myself, like I haven't been an independent nation since the last World War." He snorted and missed the guilty flinch on Norway's face. "At the end of the day none of that stupid stuff matters because you're my family, but… I needed a break."
He felt horrible. Damn it, America's advice hadn't worked at all. He just felt worse for saying all of this. Norway was going to berate him, then ignore him for months on end, and make Iceland approach him with endless apologies about his behavior. Fuck, why did he think the atmosphere-dense superpower would know what to do in a situation like this?! She solved all her problems with England by mocking his marmite or bashing his brains with her briefcase. He felt extra warmth gathering in his eyes, but he wasn't going to cry. He shut his eyes tight and buried his face in his knees, quickly wiping the extra fluid away before it could fall. Norway stayed silent. The wind stayed silent. The tension grew unbearable.
After what felt like ten whole minutes of complete silence, Iceland decided that enough was enough; if he had soured his relationship with his older brother then he at least wanted the luxury of sulking in peace. He regained his composure, lifted his chin, and uncoiled his body, hoping he wouldn't stumble as he stood up. He didn't need to be anywhere except away from Norway and his anger, so he pressed his hands into the rock to push himself up. An arm, wrapped in a deep blue jacket, shot up to grab Iceland's own.
Before Iceland could say anything, before he could react, Norway pulled him close. A thrill of fear went through the island nation – had he angered Norway enough to cause the other to manhandle him? – but before he even fully registered the thought, he felt himself collide with Norway's body. Arms wrapped around him, keeping him in place and insulating him with body heat, and for a long moment a new kind of stillness punctuated the pond.
The Norwegian was silent for a long time, and Iceland barely dared to breathe in the silence, refused to let the proximity and the warmth seduce him with comfort and reassurance. He needed to know what Norway thought, he needed to be prepared for whatever he might say, but his older brother's difficulty with words made waiting an endless hell.
"…I'm sorry."
Iceland felt his eyes go wide. Norway's voice, subdued and mildly raspy, whispered the confession so softly the island nation wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it up. But no, Norway had definitely said something, and Iceland wished he could pull back, just slightly, so he could read Norway's face, inscrutable as it could be. But he couldn't pull away, not just yet.
"I… haven't been a good older brother, have I?"
"No!" The flat tone in Norway's voice alarmed Iceland more than anything. "Shut up, Norge, it's not like that! You're… a good older brother. But… just because I'm you're younger brother, doesn't mean I'm going to stay young. I'm not a kid. And sometimes you treat me like I am."
"I don't like you going out fighting bears."
A laugh that was practically a sob tore its way out of Iceland's throat. "That bear's big brother didn't like it going out fighting Icelands," he rasped. "I tossed it through a tree. We're all nations. I'm stronger than I was, Norge, I'm independent and live on my own and work for my government like you do yours. But… I guess you.. you d-didn't… get to see me grow…" His breath hitched.
No, he wasn't going to dredge up those memories. Napoleonic Wars, Kiel Treaties, the long separation when Norway lived with Sweden and Iceland with Denmark. A century in Denmark's house without his older brother around, Denmark was the one to fully raise Iceland in the end. He taught him modern combat techniques, he showed him how to run his own nation, even if Denmark had the final say, he gave Iceland his grudging blessing when the panicked island nation broke from the union during the second World War in a bid for neutrality and safety. Only then had he seen Norway again, after all that pain and terror… He found himself wrapping his arms around Norway in return and burying his head in Norway's shoulder. He wasn't going to cry damn it.
But then he felt Norway's head on his own shoulder and Norway's own shuddering breath and that was his fault, fuck. He made his older brother… cry. He'd never seen Norway cry. Not even when he'd been forced to leave Denmark's house for Sweden's, and in doing so, left Denmark and Iceland behind in the cold. He didn't want to. Pulling his brother down into such a pathetic state over something so stupid filled him with a nauseating shame.
"I'm sorry."
One of them said it. Probably both of them.
"You didn't get to raise me… so… were you trying to make up for lost time? I'm not mad at you for that, Norge, I've never been. But I'm grown now, so don't beat yourself up over it. A-and don't beat Denmark up, or Sweden.." he muttered shakily. "Just because I grew doesn't mean I'm not your little brother Iceland anymore. I'm just your younger brother who grew." Norway's arms tightened around him, as if by pulling Iceland close enough to lock in a Siamese embrace Norway could protect both of them from ever being separated again, or from time's inevitable passage. He spoke, Iceland realized, with something more potent that words. It didn't bother Iceland that he had to strain slightly to breathe, he held on for all he was worth and tried to force the words he couldn't convey into Norway's chest by sheer pressure.
I want respect, I want equal footing, I'm sorry big bro, I do love you, I love that you care about me, I care about you too, just let me be me.
They stayed that way for a long while, the sounds of birdsong and insects and wind reassuring them of their humanity. "I.. didn't realize what I was doing. Not fully," Norway admitted in a gruff voice. He didn't pull away yet. "When you say it like that, the truth becomes so obvious it hurts. It hurts to think that I missed so much time with you, lillebror."
"It hurts me too," Iceland whispered, not sure what else to say besides the truth and nothing but the truth. They fell into silence again, two internally-programmed nations at a loss for words despite their deep relation.
Finally, Norway took a deep breath and spoke. "I… will try to watch myself when I… do that," he said vaguely, and Iceland knew how hard he was trying to be both honest with his emotions and prudent with his reply. "But it will take… some time. I need to think."
"Sure, Norge." Taking that as his cue to give his older brother some space, Iceland disengaged his arms from their embrace and made to stand up. Therefore, it surprised Iceland when Norway responded in kind, rising in order to walk with him. The island nation blinked, but did not protest, as Norway took a few paces forward as if to lead, before abruptly turning back and reaching out to take Iceland by the hand.
He reached. He reached across an ocean of water and an ocean of time and made contact, firm, warm contact, into a place of comfort and security. This awkwardness, this beginning of a new phase, it wasn't the cleanest ending to an old era, and by no means had the weight of the past been fully shed and left behind them, but for now, they could walk back to the cabin without a backwards glance, a feeling of contentment resolving deep in their souls.
Because they were brothers.
Norway did not have dinner with the rest of them and did not so much as appear for the rest of the evening, despite Denmark's goading and Finland's speaking to him through the doorway. A general atmosphere of concern permeated the cabin for the rest of the day, and as night fell and Denmark and Sweden both ended up brooding at the fire, Iceland watched their faces, half-shadowed by the flickering light of the flames, and wondered if he should divulge their conversation. Part of him wanted to, because they might have a less severe reaction to anything Norway said or did if they understood why. But, another part of him didn't.
Some of that was concern for backlash in the form of a scolding, for making Norway… come close to crying, because Iceland would not admit to anything more than that. Hell, Denmark still cared about Norway very much and might end up shouting at Iceland, even if it was more out of confusion and anger than actual hostility. Sweden, if he reprimanded Iceland at all, would probably make him feel far worse, with that omnipresent stern expression and the gruff, barely-intelligible words of wisdom that would puncture Iceland to his core. However, most of his reluctance to speak was because he wasn't sure if he wanted to take on the same conversation again for the second time in a day. Norway might speak to them about it at some point instead, and maybe they could move on from there…
Either way, Iceland concluded that the day thus far had emotionally exhausted him to the point where a second go at this whole family-issues thing would not end as well as the first round had. The TV seemed spoken for by the fireplace, Finland and Sealand were engaged in a cutthroat card game, and Norway, of course, was in his room, thinking. Iceland was bored, tired, and restless, all at once. With nothing better to do and an itching on his mind, he trudged up the stairs to the loft, shut the door, reclined on his guest bed, and dialed America.
It was about eight in the evening, so-
"'yello?"
"America?"
"The one and only!" Her perky voice came through as usual, but Iceland heard a lot of background noise. "Are you still working?" he asked.
"Well, it's only about 2pm, dude. Normal workday here is 9-5 and I usually go 8-6 as it is." He could almost hear her shrug. "Of course, this is about the time when lunch starts making work a drag, so thanks for calling!"
"No problem," Iceland replied wryly. He kept forgetting about Americans and their insane work culture. Between her, Korea, and Japan, the three of them would probably end up working themselves to death one day.
"So what's up, dude?"
"…I… talked to Norway."
On the other end, America seemed to shift. Her tone took on a few shades more serious when she responded. "Ah. I bet that was hard. Well, was it okay? Did you tell him everything you wanted to? Do you think things are going to be okay now?"
"Well…." Iceland thought about the afternoon. Between two soft-spoken nations, he was surprised as many words were exchanged as they had, even more surprised that he was responsible for the vast majority of them. He didn't know if he wanted to tell America how painful it had been to confront the issue head on, or how raw he still felt. For a few moments all he could hear was America's soft breathing on the phone, a quiet crackling static. Finally, he opened up again. "Well… I think the main issue was that I grew up mostly under Denmark, after the Treaty of Kiel, after Norway and I were separated… and he didn't really register that I had become independent when he saw me again. Maybe he thought our relationship as an adult older brother and a child younger brother would pick up where it left off… but it couldn't. We don't have that kind of brother bond anymore."
America took a long time to reply, and Iceland thought with irritation how much her silence reminded him of Norway's earlier silence. "So, he was trying to make up for lost time?" she asked.
"Yeah…" Iceland muttered, suddenly paranoid of anyone listening outside his door. "It wasn't that he couldn't accept I'd grown up without him, not completely. He didn't fully realize it. He might still not.. he said he needed time to think about things. … We both… cried a little," he admitted, and his cheeks bloomed with color as he admitted as much.
"That's okay," America replied, voice surprisingly gentle. "You can begin to be brothers the right way again now. You still have a couple of days in Sweden, right? Try to spend them mostly with him, and just with him. Even if you don't say much. It's okay now."
Any reply Iceland wanted to concoct was stopped by his memory of the afternoon, and his momentary fury at America for giving him what he believed to be bogus advice, before Norway had opened up and reached some sort of accord with him. "How do you know so much about this stuff?" he half-griped. "You can't read the emotional atmosphere and in meetings it's all burgers and heroes."
A laugh came through the other end, and Iceland heard a coworker asking America what she found so funny. "Some of that's just to annoy England," she admitted freely. "But speaking of the grump, he's the reason I know." The words 'revolutionary war' need not be spoken. "We didn't really have a chance to talk about all of this stuff until World War Two was almost over. Canada… er, strongly encouraged me to just 'get this emotional baggage bullshit' out of the way, since we had a war to fight. It was a lot like yours," she admitted, almost shyly. "Neither of us really likes confronting difficult emotion-" Iceland snorted at that "-so pulling him aside on a war front to have a heart-to-heart and what might have been a cry-fest wasn't something I really wanted to do. I still can't really talk about it much before my allergies act up-" another snort from Iceland "-but we rarely have big fights over nothing anymore."
Well, that much was true, and anyone could testify to the veracity of America's statements.
"I guess you're right about this, then," Iceland hummed. He didn't feel like telling America about the mental litany of swearing he had directed at her earlier in his weakest moment. "I'm glad I listened to you, so… thanks."
"Anytime, bro!" she cheered, then backtracked. "Oh, uh, 'bro' is a term we in the States use to mean a close friend, can I call you that, or just 'dude'?" Iceland blinked. He'd barely had time to register her use of the term before she barreled ahead. "I'm okay with either," he said, mainly out of a loss of what to say or do. America seemed satisfied with that response and continued rambling. "Say, Ice, I think of you as a good friend but before the camping thing we haven't done a lot together. Whaddaya say? We should go do something together sometime. Do you think of me as a friend? 'Cause I think you're a really cool guy."
Another American barrage. Iceland tried to keep his head on straight as he balanced the tasks of dissecting her latest word eruption with forming an appropriate response. "I'd like to hang out sometime. Actually, I was going to invite you to my house since you invited me to go camping last time. And yeah, we're friends."
The amount of straightforwardness America required from him in such a condensed format had him feeling tired all over again. He'd just gone and spontaneously invited her to his house, which, granted, he had been meaning to do, but with slightly more planning. And how did someone respond to "we're friends, right?" while feeling and sounding sincere? He couldn't gauge just how close they were as friends when Iceland couldn't gauge how America felt about him, much less how he felt about her. He found himself recalling her stunning smile, her bright eyes, and her waving hair more often than he thought necessary or appropriate, and it was starting to trouble him-
"-That is really awesome of you Iceland! I don't think I've been to really see your house in years, this is going to be so cool!" The intensity of the background chatter picked up audibly, and Iceland almost thwacked his head on the bed's headboard in mortification and intimidation. Now some part of the American government knew about his rather forward… forwardness, or something. It could be misconstrued as… something other than what it was. Like… things.
Oh, shit. Iceland's face erupted like Eyjafjallajökull. He covered his face with one arm as he listened to America cheer through the phone. It was several minutes before she calmed down enough to talk to, and Iceland, both tired and spurred by a sudden infatuation-induced adrenaline rush, interrupted her stream with a cough. "America?"
"Whoa, Ice, you need a cough drop or something, you okay?" she asked.
"When you visit, can we talk?"
"We can talk any time. I'll always be here to listen," she replied, and Iceland could not doubt her sincerity in the matter.
"It's about something important. It's about… Suðurland."
America fell silent.
The island nation felt as though he'd jumped into the icy lake they'd camped by and a sudden extreme anxiousness overtook him. At best, America wouldn't have any idea what he was talking about, at worst she would know exactly – was he getting best and worst confused? He didn't know anymore, he didn't know what he wanted from this situation anymore.
But the longer the silence dragged out…
"Sure, dude," she replied softly, very softly, sounding as anxious as he felt.
"All right." A beat of silence. "Well, it's getting pretty late here and today made me really tired, so I should get to bed."
"And my boss is tapping his foot for me to start working again, haha, so I need to go too," America laughed weakly. "Well, I work all day tomorrow but the next day Canada and I are flying out. See ya then, Ice!"
"Goodnight, America." He hung up, and the hand holding his phone dropped limply until it rested in the sheets.
He'd done it. He'd asked. And it had been more terrifying that this afternoon. Because, unlike the brother he knew very well, he could not picture the expression on America's face as she staved off her boss, set down her own phone, and went back to work.
Suðurland.
End Chapter Twelve
Christmas Cat
'Twas the morning of Christmas, and all through the house
A GIANT CAT RAMPAGED AND TOSSED NATIONS ABOUT.
Everyone thought Christmas would be fairly normal that year. Granted, Canada and America were spending it with the Nordics and were treated to quite a few Scandinavian traditions, but other than that, nothing out of the ordinary. America giggled as Canada donned a goat hide, and tried on a crown of candles even though St. Lucia's day had already passed. She'd squealed with delight at Denmark's penchant for dressing his trees with miniature versions of his flag, and everyone feared for a star-spangled Christmas the following year.
Then Iceland had burst into the sitting room riding on the back of a gigantic feline terror spitting bile, hissing at several nations with complete and utter contempt. Iceland cackled as Denmark let out a shrill scream and dove behind Norway, who was chalk white and attempting to summon a troll or other companion who could fight off the menace. Sealand had started to cry and dove behind Sweden, so the task of protecting the micronation fell to Finland, already armed with a butcher's knife and a sniper rifle.
"Christmas Cat is here to punish those who fail to receive clothes this year!" Iceland bellowed, snickering as Denmark searched in vain for his axe.
"Clothes...?" America blinked, and then grabbed Canada. "HE'S MY HAT!" she shouted desperately.
"For the last time, America, I am not-"
"Dude, just shut up, I'm saving both our asses from that demon cat!" she hissed.
Canada sighed, but saw actual sense in her words and fell silent.
Iceland considered them with narrow eyes. You win this round," he grudgingly conceded. "But the rest of you are not so lucky!" And with a sharp "Hyah!" he steered the Christmas Cat in the direction of the rapidly-fleeing Nordics, taking several walls down with him.
it was said that Denmark never trusted kittens again.
The End~
1) Apparently the Danish have a dish called smørrebrød which is basically an open-faced sandwich with practically anything you want on it.
2) I do not feel confident about Norway and Iceland's conversation at all. They're both such quiet characters so it's hard to write them well.
3) On a similar note, I feel that Norway's characterization in the anime is not so much stoic as subdued. He definitely has a sense of humor, expresses some amusement evident through his voice during the DNA results episode, and shows kindness to others (and did you hear the recent news story about Norway thinking of redrawing borders so that Finland can have a new highest peak, to celebrate 100 years of Finnish independence? That's so SWEET!). I like to think of him as the kind of person who favors actions over words when communicating.
4) The U.S. has kind of a crazy work culture... or crazy-about-work culture. A lot of stories portray America as lazy or irresponsible, but the value of Hard Work is practically one of America's foundations.
5) Christmas! Check out Scandinavia and the World strips for where I got my inspiration for the little end-of-chapter short, especially "Christmas Kitten" and "Christmas Traditions." Though I have to say, Iceland... the whole "thirteen Santas who give naughty children coal and then eat them" idea is a bit extreme... Regardless, Season's Greetings to you all!