Hello, first of all, thank you for clicking on this story. It means a lot to me. This is my first fanfiction, I really hope it's okay. I apologize if it's not.
I would also like to apologize if any character's are OOC. Iceland is a very hard character to write, and I hope I did this amazing character justice. Well, enjoy.
Summary: No one had ever expected to run out of water, and no one ever thought World War III would actually happen. He certainly did not expect his brother to be drafted and his world turned upside down. This is the uneventful (yet presumably short) life of Emil Bondevik.
The very eventful and long life of Emil Bondevik was not a joyful one, oh no, it was just he did not let his 'weakness' show. That is, in most situations.
It was in this situation which his tears fell almost like the raindrops which he wished were clean. If they were, his pain may have been nonexistent. Sadly, that was not the case.
"What... What do you mean going to war?"
"Emil, I was drafted."
Lukas Bondevik was a man made of ice, and that was no euphemism. His frosted blonde hair, which Emil inherited, swept under a cross clip. Much to his little brother's horror, he only removed the clip for Mathias.
His eyes were frozen over to the effect that it was said the layer was so thick, they would only melt for the most devastating occasions. Mathias bragged he could make the blizzard cease at will, yet Emil doubted that. It was only this time where he ever witnessed the water under the freeze.
Lukas Bondevik was also a man of few words, but when spoken, it was if an earthquake shook the whole world and a volcano spewed ash all over your heart. At this time, the raging magma resting in Emil's heart was tainted by the falling ash.
"Draft? They can't just make people fight against their own free will…"
Lukas just stared wholeheartedly. "They can, and it seems they will. I set off for training tomorrow." His smile, which did not show often, spoke of pain and sympathy, hoping his brother's heart would not erupt. Yet, Emil only looked on in horror.
No…This wasn't right. No… This couldn't be right. No…He must be dreaming. No…This couldn't happen. No…This wouldn't happen. No…He would not let it.
"You can't go!" Emil shook his head to his brother and fate herself, being louder than he ever was. His purple orbs glanced up and swam into the eyes he wished he never took for granted.
He blushed. "I mean…You can go…If you want to get killed…It doesn't matter to me." Crossing his arms, his words took up a façade, seeming as they just came out to protect his fragile self-esteem. It was almost akin to Lukas's ice, trying, yet so often failing to keep his exterior a cold sheet of ice.
Emil's ice, however, was the polar ice caps, larger than life yet waning away under the global warming of his own heart.
This pollution was not helping slow down the process.
The boy stared at his brother, his glare somewhat softening. "Well…If you leave, you won't see the aurora borealis they said was coming… do you really want to miss that?"
"Little brother, you don't understand." Lukas placed his hand on a shaking shoulder. Its owner tried his best not to let the tears pour down. He could not show his weakness, no, he could not show how broken he was inside. However, the red and puffy nature of his eyes spoke otherwise.
"It is not my choice whether I want to go or not."
Emil understood.
"I would like peace, but I am only one man."
Emil understood.
"Little brother, I have to fight. But I can get more water for us in the process- It's running dangerously low around here-"
Emil did not want to understand.
Yet, the boy nodded anyway.
"I am glad you understand." Lukas's eyes froze to the normal layer of ice they usually had, it was only in times like these that something could tread on the ice causing a slight fissure.
"While I'm away, Tino and Berwald would be glad to take you in as a special guest at their house. You should feel lucky. I received a letter from that idiot Mathias that he was going into the military as well. Would you like to spend all your free time with him?"
Emil shook his head, no, definitely not. Tino and Berwald were much less annoying. Even if their son, Peter, could be a Mini-Mathias sometimes, he was nothing compared to the real thing. Emil felt a twinge of sympathy for Lukas.
However, the boy still anxiously pondered his reaction to his brother's drafting. The magma in his heart told him to cling on with all his might, however the ice said to agree. This would only be for a little while, it said, you can manage.
Lukas's hand drifted away from the now still shoulder. "You should be heading to bed. You have a lot of traveling to do tomorrow."
The boy's mouth longed to scream "Enough!" but his legs carried him up the stairs, only to turn around for the slight noise of his brother's voice.
The ice in Lukas's eyes cracked once again. "Goodnight, little brother…" His voice cracked as well, his hand reached out desperately trying to cling on to Emil, yet he knew to survive this, letting go was the only option.
Lukas glanced down, wishing that someday, they may cross paths again. It is safe to say that fate had laughed at this notion, for she had other plans. If only Lukas had known what were to happen…maybe things would pan out differently.
If only.
Lukas watched his brother ascend up the stairs and bit his lip. There was one thing he needed before risking it all. "…Will you quit procrastinating like you've done all your life? Emil…I'm leaving. I'm leaving for a long time. So shut up and at least give me a goodbye. …At least say my name…"
Emil's whole being succumbed to freezing, beyond shocked at the loving words spoken by his brother. Despite this, he faced the wall. His ice continued to freeze. "Goodnight, Lukas."
Yet, it was only a few seconds before all his inhibitions melted.
Emil turned around. "G-goodnight, big brother." He could not hold it in any longer. "T-take care."
The boy dashed upstairs, burying his face into his pillow. And for the first time in his life, Emil let his tears slip out, shaking the world in their silent, yet desperate pleas.
He should have said "big brother" more.
It had been three weeks.
Three whole weeks since his brother had run off for his education of death. Three long weeks since he had arrived at Tino and Berwald's, welcomed with open arms by his relatives, yet not by his own heart.
It had been three weeks since he had felt anything but despair.
Yet, he had to admit, the sunset overhead was truly beautiful.
Emil lied on his back observing the waning sun in front of him. The pink and orange hues danced a waltz around the yellow orb of music as the clouds became their ball gowns, circling around the dancers. Flocks of bird flew through the sky, helping to orchestrate the music that rang throughout the entire horizon. If a certain Austrian saw this scene, he would certainly shed a tear and join the melody with his piano.
However, it was Emil witnessing this scene, not Roderich. The only melody he heard was a resounding snare drum accompanied by a gunshot and his brother's screaming.
As much as he hated to admit it, worry crippled him. For all he knew, Lukas could be dead…or worse…having intercourse with Mathias.
Emil shivered at the thought. Dead would be much better.
The final rays of the sun dipped under the horizon, signaling night was beginning. Emil took one final glance at the orange hues grasping onto the sky. They did not want to set.
The boy agreed; he did not want to set either. Sadly, that choice was made for him long ago.
Emil rolled over and pressed himself up on the hill he was laying on. After stumbling for a minute, he regained his balance, walking down a pathway to where he parked his bicycle.
He glimpsed back to the grassy slope. One-night last week, Peter excitedly told his family while stuffing his face with dinner that he had heard some town gossip about the exact hill which Emil enjoyed to dream on.
"I heard the hill in the northeast is actually a volcano!" He had exclaimed. "Isn't that so cool?!"
Berwald had explained to his son that even if the hill was a volcano, which he said it wasn't, it hadn't erupted in anyone in the town's lifetime to prove it. He declared that any records of an eruption would have been demolished along with the dissolution of the internet. This seemed highly plausible. Tino had just nodded and added in that it didn't pose any danger.
Emil did wonder where that piece of information originated from, but since Tino and Berwald were much more trustworthy than Mister-Sealand-Is-Too-A-Real-Country, the hill probably was not a volcano.
Probably.
The boy just kicked off his bike and peddled 'home.'
"Welcome home, Emil!"
If happiness had a frequency, then Tino Väinämöinen's voice would be equivalent to a dog whistle. His smile shone like a second sun, producing more grins with its brightness. It was very safe to say that the man was eternally chipper.
Well, that piece of knowledge was almost entirely true. His cheerful demeanor did prevail…most of the time. The only exception would be if Berwald or Peter were in distress.
Emil awkwardly grimaced. He knew the sun would still shine even if his tears poured down.
However, the boy's thoughts were soon shattered by the sound of Tino's voice.
"Oh, did you get the groceries?"
He only nodded, gesturing to the paper bag resting in his hands. The pungent odor admitted by the contents smirked and slithered around in the air, making anyone who caught a whiff of it gag in distaste. However, no matter how revolting the smell, the fish was actually quite delicious. In fact, he remembered that in his home country it was considered a delicacy.
"Oh good!" Tino's bright eyes sparkled. His all-too-happy tone heightened in volume, projecting into the house. "Berwald will help you cook the fish!"
The world remained silent.
The words vibrated louder. "I said…Berwald will help you cook the fish!"
An echo of silence threatened the peace.
The corners of Tino's mouth morphed into a slight frown, a bit anxious at the sudden silence emitted by his husband. Emil shifted and bit at the freezing surface of his lips.
The thing about the doubt of the hopeful was that it gnawed at your paranoia, slowly decaying your sanity until there was none. It was like witnessing the murder of a person you thought was too dutiful to die. It was like losing everything you held dear from a freak disaster. In short, it was something you did not expect.
Suddenly, the man's mind seemed to push a memory to the forefront, and the Christmas lights in his eyes lit up. Emil could only ponder how a tide of emotions was able to change so quickly.
"Oh, I guess he didn't hear me! Oh well, I'll tell him inside."
As Tino skipped inside, Emil couldn't help but notice what the optimist was doing out on such a bleak and frigid day. An aluminum basin stood firmly planted under an ancient birch tree, both of which had roots that spread influence throughout the entire yard. The similarities between the two did not stop here however.
It was clear that both objects were living. The tree breathed while the basin's insides swam in toxin-infested water.
Ignoring the contaminated liquid, Emil inspected the damp plastic bags hanging from the birch's arms and deduced the water must have come from the raining spell a few days back. Peter's trousers danced over the side of the basin, making it clear exactly what Tino was doing out there.
"Emil! Why don't you come in? I'm cooking dinner!"
His eyes stole one last glance at the basin before he joined the choir of the noise indoors. If clothes had to be cleaned with filthy rainwater in an area that usually had enough clean water, he could understand the need for World War III.
Emil stepped inside.
The moment one foot passed through the doorway, the boy was immediately besieged with an incessant stream of noise and pointless comments. Some people also called this annoyance Peter Väinämöinen-Oxenstierna.
"Hey Ice!" Oh, how Emil absolutely despised that idiotic nickname. "I learned in school today that puffins drink saltwater with their fishy meals! Man, I wish I was a puffin! There's a whole ocean of saltwater out there and it's nowhere close to being polluted! Just think, you could-"
At this point, Emil learned how to tune the boy out. Yet, he really did wonder how Peter acquired a British accent in Scandinavia.
"Now now, Peter." Tino spoke up from sprinkling salt on the piece of cod. "We're perfectly safe and well in our village. We're on a tiny island in practically the middle of the ocean. We're not even on mainland Iceland! No one would think to go looking for water here, and we have plenty to go around. You have nothing to worry about."
He projected his voice louder. "Right, Berwald?" However, Emil could detect the faintest hint of distress.
For the first time that night, the silent man spoke. "Your mama's right, Peter. We're safe."
Everyone in the history of Heimaey Islandknew of Berwald Oxenstierna's brevity and stern nature. It was a rite of passage for the island's inhabitants to chat with him at some point in their life. For some odd reason Berwald didn't comprehend, people who spoke to him always had beads of sweat running down their forehead. It was almost as if they were-
"—Scared. Mama, I'm scared…" Peter shook. Tears fluttered out of his terrified eyes. Those orbs were usually a lamp, turned on no matter what. Yet, water always short-circuits light bulbs. "…My teacher told us about what happened yesterday in Höfn."
The whole world froze at that very moment, nothing dared to move as Tino's pot came crashing down onto the floor. Whatever twinge of joy was left came ricocheting down with the dish, and fear chuckled as it took hold of Emil's body.
Tino swiftly pivoted around. Almost inhumanly, the shaking of his pupils complimented his icy tone. "That b- woman told you what?"
But Peter's despair slaughtered his common sense. "The Russians already invaded Iceland and ransacked a city! Mama, what's stopping them from coming here?!"
Emil's breath stopped short. Were his ears deceiving him? Invaders…in this country? …Ransacked a city? No matter the danger of this situation, that was not his concern at the moment. The only thought in his mind lied with words he heard ages ago.
"I'm going to be on the Norwegian front." Lukas had mentioned to him. "It seems we're going to be defending our allies from invaders." His eyes spoke of no emotion. "…No one will get past us."
Yet, if the Russians had reached Iceland… Emil decided to cease his imagination right then and there. No benefit would come out of letting his thoughts and fears run wild. He was absolutely certain that Lukas was safe and well.
Was he?
"Peter…" Berwald rose from his chair and glanced at his son, shaking his head. A dusty pink painted itself on Peter's cheeks as the man's footsteps echoed throughout the entire house, making his way over to the boy. He plopped right next to the teary-eyed child.
"Son…" Berwald's eyes swam in Peter's tears. "I don't know what's going to happen. No one can. And I know I may not be the most talkative person…or the most comforting, but I can tell you, and Emil, and Tino one thing. No matter what happens, no matter what the world wants to throw at us, I know one thing for certain. We'll be together. We'll be together through it all. And with loved ones… Everything is alright. Anything is possible…even making the blind see. Even making the deaf hear or the mute speak."
Irony reared its head into the household. Neither of the hopeful personified comfort; it was the stoic who showed what true love and passion was.
Peter felt it. Tino felt it. Emil did not feel it.
He was useless, a freeloader who leeched off society and whoever was unfortunate enough to take him in. He was an outcast, his soul was a disgusting piece of garbage that was so much different than the others. He was what his mind said and his brain spat on his heart, saying he should be ashamed. "No one could love me," he thought. "I belong nowhere."
Yet, he remembered the love that admitted from his brother's gaze when his ice melted. Slight nostalgia erupted as he thought of the many attempts of Lukas to get him to say 'big brother.'
Emil glanced over to three family members. Nostalgia faded as Tino kissed Peter's cheek, explaining how they would all be safe. Tears only faintly graced his eyes watching Berwald rub Peter's back lovingly. Emil knew, he would never receive that. "But this happy family couldn't love me," he thought again. "I don't belong here."
Fate does not like liars. Emil was soon to learn.
"Well, enough about that." Emil looked up at Tino who attempted with his best effort to keep the night moving along. A plate of salted fish flew onto the table. "Dinner is served!"
To any person with eyesight, Tino's smile was as fake as a model's makeup. The weary dimples were just his concealer, covering the red marks of his emotions, but no one said a word.
Dinner became a silent affair. That was, until, Tino spoke.
"You know… it's been a long night. You kids should get to bed. You do need to go to school tomorrow, Emil. Just because this isn't your hometown doesn't mean you aren't excused from learning. That goes for you too Peter."
Peter whined while tossing his paper plate into the trash can. "But mama, it's only 20:30…We just had dinner…"
However, the boy was unaware of the mind game about to be at play. Tino just grinned. "What if I read you a bedtime story?"
"A bedtime story?!" As the excited boy's eyes became a rising sun, it became clear to Emil that no matter how stubborn, little children were still little children. Peter huffed. "It has to be Winnie-the-Pooh. I want to know what happens to Piglet!"
The optimist's hand, almost by reflex, ruffled Peter's hair with gentle precision. "Winnie-the-Pooh it is then. Why don't you go up and get your PJs on? I just need to speak with your papa about something quick. I'll be up to tell you about cute little Piglet in a minute!"
Peter slipped out a giggle and skipped up the stairs. Amnesia seemed to have penetrated his mind as he did not remember his agony from just an hour before. Tino glanced softly at the remaining boy downstairs. "That means you too, Emil. If you want, I could tuck you i-"
"N-no, no it's fine!" Emil interrupted, his face twinkling red at the mere mention of being tucked in. "I can show myself up…" He slowly creeped up the stairs.
"Goodnight!" This scene felt all too familiar to the boy as Tino called out those two simple words. He turned around, echoing the heartfelt words that Tino exclaimed. Déjà vu consumed his soul, but he would not let it. He could not let it. No, things would happen differently this time.
Emil remained on the stairs and ducked out of sight.
It was only frantic whispers that rang downstairs. "Tino…M'wife…We can't keep lying like this."
"Berwald, I know. I know, I know, I know... I just…I just don't know how we can tell Peter and Emil. They worry enough as it is."
"We have to tell them at some point."
"Berwald…I-I know…But we can't, Berwald, we just can't. It would crush them. Can you imagine the heartbreak in their faces if we mention that neither Lukas nor Mathias have sent a letter in over a wee-"
Emil had heard enough.
Darkness engulfed his every sense as he blankly ascended the stairs, his widened eyes telling he was trapped within his own mind. No, this could not be true. He had heard something wrong. He must have. There was no way. Even though Lukas could be the silent type, Mathias always wrote letters…there had to be some kind of explanation.
"Oh, heyo Ice!" Peter kicked his feet up on his bed. "Is mama coming up to read my bedtime story soon?"
However, Peter was correct. Emil Bondevik was a man made of ice, and that was no euphemism. The boy jumped onto his bed, for his mouth dared not to respond as it was already frozen by the ice being produced by his mind. The darkness only aided Emil's paranoia, feeding into it until it was so large that it could consume the entire bedroom.
He feared the Russians may find their island useful, they may come and take away the second thing he loved so dearly. He feared what was going on in the world, for all he knew thousands could be buried in the ground or suffering unknown horrors. Yet, most of all, he feared for something he never before wanted to worry about.
As much as he hated to admit it, he hoped his brother was safe and well.