100 Days of NorIce
Prompt 76- The True You
TRUE (adjective): 1. Consistent with fact or reality.
2. Real, genuine.
3. Reliable, accurate.
4. Faithful, loyal.
5. Rightful, legitimate.
"We should tell him."
Eiríkur looked across at Teitr. The usually joyful Iceland stared back, worry clouding his amethyst eyes. Teitr's face, normally pulled into a warm smile, looked unusually solemn and his upbeat tone had disappeared.
"I know. And I will…it's just…"
"You're scared he'll reject you. Reject us. We know. We're scared, too."
Eiríkur swallowed, looking away. "Even Haraldur?" he asked, trying to imagine to firm, unshakable Iceland afraid of anything.
"Já, even him."
Eiríkur felt a spike of fear flash through him. If even Haraldur was scared…but…but…
But he had to. He had to tell Norway. They had to tell their brother, whom they had kept their secret from for so long. Eiríkur inhaled sharply, gathering up his courage and picking the phone up before it could fail him. He paused again, suddenly unsure once more. Teitr nodded at him from the other sofa in their living room, before disappearing into thin air.
Eiríkur punched in Norway's number, fingers shaking slightly and causing him to mistype more than once. When he had the right number, he quickly pressed the call button, before he could lose his nerve. He spoke calmly, repressing the quiver trying to bleed through.
"Hey, Noregur? I was wondering if you would like to come over some time before the next World Meeting…"
They arranged for Norway to stay over for two nights before the two brothers would travel together to the World Meeting in Paris. Norway was supposed to be arriving in around half an hour. Eiríkur was a nervous wreck, pacing up and down their living room, wringing his hands and pulling his hair, muttering worries under his breath.
"What if he doesn't believe us? What if he throws us into an asylum, or something? What if he rejects us, never talks to us again? What if-"
"Eiríkur!" Haraldur snapped, "Stop wearing a hole in the carpet and calm down! We've got the plan all figured out. Noregur cares for us. A lot. He will at least give us a chance to explain ourselves. Besides, it's not like we're going to rush him all at once. He'll be introduced to each of us one at a time, and then we'll explain after. Just stop worrying. You're making me antsy, too."
Eiríkur stilled and forced himself to calm down, taking deep breaths and absorbing Haraldur's words. He opened his eyes and looked at the other Iceland. Haraldur was sitting on the arm of one of their sofas, flat eyes staring back into Eiríkur's own. He was wearing black slacks tucked into the same boots Eiríkur wore on a daily basis (although his were black in colour), a navy blue dress shirt and a black leather trench coat. A pair of dark sunglasses rested upon his forehead, leaving dark violet eyes free to stare piercingly into Eiríkur's lilac.
"Já, it's gonna be okay, Eiríkur." Teitr shimmered into view sitting on the seat next to Haraldur, smiling at Eiríkur. While his face seemed reassuring, his amethyst eyes held a slight worry, but there was hope mixed in, too. Eiríkur nodded to him, afraid that if he opened his mouth again, all he would do was babble.
Teitr looked different again, wearing some black skinny jeans and a button-up chequered t-shirt in various shades of blue. A pair of black and white converses were on his feet and a silver watch upon his wrist. He looked a lot more approachable then the cold and distant Haraldur, his face having some faint laugh lines and his features softer than Haraldur's sharp and clean cut ones.
A 'hmm' of agreement came from slightly behind Eiríkur, and he turned to see the final Iceland sitting on the opposite sofa to Haraldur and Teitr. Gunnar was the most outlandish looking of them all. While Teitr looked like a normal teen (albeit one with good fashion sense) and Haraldur could pass as a typical 'bad boy', Gunnar would have immediately attracted attention if he stepped a foot out of the house.
A sleeveless white tunic with black edging extending down into a loincloth that reached just above the knees was worn. A brown leather belt was buckled tightly around his hips, cloth packs hanging off it at the back and a scabbard for a sword on the left side, ready to pull out with his right hand. Gunnar wore black leggings under his tunic, tucked into brown leather boots. A pair of brown leather bracers covered his forearms, strapped on the inside with black cord.
The sword had a hardwood handle with a metal guard, and the blade was sharp and strong, stout enough to hack through armour and thin enough to slip in between ribs. Magic was imbued in the sword, keeping it in good condition. The scabbard was plain brown, simple and functional. Gunnar held a spear in his hand, usually kept strapped across his back when he wasn't using it.
Gunnar looked different to all the others. He had the same general features- as they all did- but his skin was slightly darker than Eiríkur, Teitr and Haraldur's pale complexion. While they all had the same lithe build, Gunnar's muscles were slightly more defined and his eyes were a mauve colour. A pale scar ran over his nose horizontally, and a few more cut over visible skin in his upper arms.
"We'll be fine." Gunnar assured, his deep slow voice filling the room. "Noregur will listen."
Eiríkur felt better. Gunnar was not a man of many words, and those he did say he was always sure of. "Þakka þér…" Eiríkur whispered to all three.
The doorbell rang.
The sound seemed to echo through the house, ringing with a kind of finality that made Eiríkur's heart beat faster. Haraldur, Teitr and Gunnar disappeared, seemingly dissolving into thin air, although not before Teitr gave him a reassuring smile. Eiríkur moved towards the front door, pushing the handle down and inhaling a deep breath before pulling it open.
"Halló, Noregur." He said, looking at the blond nation standing on their front porch, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Norway was smiling lightly at him, and it made Eiríkur's heart swell with warmth, not in an unpleasant way.
"Hei, Island. Are you well?"
"Fine, fine." Eiríkur stepped out of the way, allowing Norway to go past him and into their house. Eiríkur shut the door and followed Norway into their living room, watching as their brother sat down in the seat Teitr had previously been occupying. "How are you? How's everyone else?"
"I am fine, takk for asking. Danmark is as annoying as ever, and Finland and Sverige are fine as well."
"Glad to hear it, can I get you a drink or anything?"
"Nei, I am okay without, takk." Norway looked into lilac eyes, seemingly searching for something. "Island, is everything alright? I mean no offense, but you do not normally invite me or anyone else over without dire circumstances-"
Eiríkur's eyes widened, and he was quick to protest, anxiety blossoming inside of him. "Nei! Nei, we're- I mean, I am fine. Really. I just wanted to see you."
Norway stared steadily at him, obviously not believing what he had just been told, but willing to let it pass. For the moment, anyway. Nervousness twisted Eiríkur's stomach, and the fear that Norway would reject him, reject them, seared through him once again. The room swam at the edges of his vision. He needed to get out. He needed space to breathe. To collect himself. Away from the penetrating gaze of his brother.
Eiríkur quickly spotted an excuse to leave the room for a couple of minutes. He walked forward and grabbed Norway's duffle bag from the other seat on the sofa his brother was sitting on. "I'll take this to your room. It's the same one you had before. On the right, two doors down." Eiríkur fled the room as quick as he dared, not giving Norway time to protest. He could feel their brother's gaze burning into his back.
Eiríkur raced up the stairs, yanking open the door to the guest room he had given Norway and entering, the momentum causing the door to close behind him. He put the bag on the large double bed and sank down to the floor at the bottom of it, back leaning against the footboard. His chest heaved as he breathed hard.
Teitr morphed into existence next to him. "It'll be alright." he whispered, placing a hand on Eiríkur's shoulder. Eiríkur closed his eyes and gathered himself, knowing that Norway was still downstairs. When he had centred himself, he opened his eyes and nodded sharply, making Teitr grin before he shimmered away. Eiríkur stood up, walking surely back downstairs. Norway would find out their secret before the end of this visit. They knew this. They had planned for this. He shouldn't doubt their (beautiful, beautiful) brother.
Eiríkur went back into their living room, sitting down next to his brother on the sofa. By now, Norway had taken off his coat and had hung it up in the hall. His shoes were also by the door, next to Eiríkur's own white half-laced boots. Norway pulled Eiríkur into his side when he sat down, and the silver haired nation curled up there. He was half-afraid that this hug might be his last one, if Norway didn't react well.
"We can have lunch soon; it's getting close to two, now." Eiríkur murmured, moving to get up reluctantly. His ingrained manners didn't allow him to be impolite to his guest, even if that guest was his brother. "I can cook something, or we can just have sandwiches."
Norway seemed to ponder this for a moment, before nodding and moving his arm so that his little brother could get up. Eiríkur moved out of the room and into his kitchen, deciding that he didn't really want to cook and instead started preparing some sandwiches for himself and Norway. He nearly cut himself with a knife when he jumped as Teitr suddenly giggled in his head. "My turn!" the cheerful Iceland chirped. Eiríkur and Teitr switched places.
To an outsider, it must have looked very strange. Their body suddenly morphed, Eiríkur's features softening slightly and laugh lines crinkling into his face as it was overtaken by Teitr's looks. The brown-red trousers became black jeans and his white dress shirt became a chequered t-shirt in shades of blue, converses suddenly appeared on his feet. Lilac eyes turned amethyst.
Teitr pulled off the converses and threw them into a corner of the kitchen, reminding himself to get them later. In the recesses of their shared mind, Haraldur sighed at that thought, knowing that Teitr would completely forget. The new Iceland finished up the sandwiches and picked up the plates, moving back into the living room.
Norway stared. The person walking into the room with two plates in his hands looked a lot like Iceland. Like, a lot, a lot. The same silver hair, the same overall looks (although they appeared mildly softer), the same lilac ey- wait. Their eyes were a shade of purple, but a different shade than Iceland's. The person was also wearing vastly different clothing than to what Iceland normally wore. But…this person did feel like a nation. He also felt like Iceland. He had Iceland's aura, the unique feeling given off by any nation and every nation's was different.
"Island?"
The person ignored him, instead handing him a plate with a sandwich on it and smiling widely at him. He put down the other plate where Iceland had been sitting and looked back to him.
"Sorry! I forgot to get you a drink!" He even sounded like Iceland, albeit more upbeat. Norway barely got the chance to stand up to even try and stop the other before they had left the room again. Norway blinked in confusion.
What was that about?
Outside, Eiríkur had resumed control. They were in the kitchen again, and Teitr had just slipped back into their mind. "There, that wasn't too bad. One down, two to go!"
"Are you crazy?" Eiríkur hissed, keeping his voice very quiet. They could only speak in their minds when they weren't in control of the body. "How am I going to explain this to Noregur?"
"Don't." Teitr advised. "Just pretend you don't know what he's talking about if he asks about me."
"Which he will." Eiríkur muttered. After receiving no reply, he pulled two glasses out of a cupboard and filled then with water. Returning to the living room, he passed Norway his glass and picked up his sandwich, sitting down.
"Who was that person who came in before?"
Eiríkur looked to Norway in confusion. "Who? Noregur, what are you talking about?"
Norway stayed silent and just stared into Eiríkur's eyes. Eiríkur kept the look of innocent confusion on his face until Norway looked away, letting the matter drop and offering no explanation to his question which should have puzzled the younger nation.
Eiríkur didn't pursue the matter, knowing that his acting skills only went so far. He finished with starting to eat his sandwich, occasionally giving Norway looks of confusion out of the corner of his eyes.
The rest of the day passed without incident, and Norway finally stopped looking at Eiríkur so intently. The blond knew that something wasn't right, from Iceland unexpectedly wanting him to come over, to the incident with the strange teen that looked so much like his little brother appearing (if only briefly) and then inexplicably disappearing.
The two brothers had spent the rest of the day talking about anything and everything. Any subject that caught their fancy was discussed, and after a long description from Iceland about the clubs in Reykjavík, Norway realised that it was, in fact, getting quite late.
"Time for bed, lillebror." He said, after Iceland had finished. Iceland blinked at him and then glanced to the clock on the wall.
"You're right." The smaller nation agreed.
They both went upstairs, Norway entering his room and opening his bag, pulling out some night wear. A creak of wooden boards stopped him from changing, though. He went to the window and looked down, there on Iceland's back porch, leading down into the large garden, was a man. Norway withdrew a step and pulled the curtains across, darkening the room. He leant to switch on the bedside lamp and walked back downstairs (noting that there was no noise or light coming from Iceland's room), going to Iceland's back door and opening it.
The cold night air hit Norway as he stepped out onto the porch. The man (teen, really, now that Norway got a good look at him) was leaning against the wall, hands shoved in trench coat pockets and staring intently up at the night sky.
"Aren't the stars beautiful?" the person asked abruptly, a low gravelly tone sweeping through the air.
"I suppose they are, why?" Norway replied, having seen the silver hair glinting in the clear moonlight and realising that this person also looked a lot like Iceland.
"Because I always thought of them as millions of little bugs I could crush." The man grinned. "They look so tiny from here. Beautiful… and helpless. Their light does not penetrate the smog covered skies of many places in our world. Such monstrous balls of burning gas defeated by such inconsequential things as human beings. It's ridiculous."
Haraldur turned to smirk at Norway, ignoring the protests to his words from Eiríkur and Teitr inside their head. He then turned and walked away, around their house and out of sight, leaving Norway with far more questions than he had answers for.
This time Norway was safe in bed when he heard it. The blond nation blinked, suddenly awake. He turned towards the clock that read 3:07 a.m, and wondered what had woken him up. The sound of stone grinding on metal sifted through the night, muffled, but it was clearly that sound.
Norway arose out of the warm confines of his bed, somewhat reluctantly, but the overwhelming curiosity overpowered him and that internal whine was swiftly silenced. What was making that sort of noise?
Norway crept silently out of bed, opening the bedroom door. The sound was louder now, less muffled. It was coming from somewhere in the house. Norway stepped out onto the landing, pinpointing the noise as coming from further down the landing. Norway had never really been down there, his knowledge of Iceland's house extending only to the ground floor and where the bathroom and his guest room were on the upper floor.
The blond nation walked further down the landing, turning a corner and keeping on going, the sound getting louder. Norway frowned when he realised that he hadn't known that Iceland's house was this big- there was even another flight of stairs leading up to another floor! The house certainly didn't look this large from the outside…Norway would have said that magic had been used to expand it on the inside, like his own houses were, but he didn't know if Iceland had ever used magic…maybe he had, and Norway had just never noticed…
It struck the older brother as he approached one particular door where the sound was the loudest, that he didn't actually know very much about Iceland. His favourite colour, food, drink, animal…it was all unknown to him. This revelation was mildly upsetting for Norway, who had always prided himself in being Iceland's older brother. He quietly resolved to get to know Iceland better.
Norway stood in front of the door for a moment, before opening it, pushing his musings on Iceland out of his mind for the time being. It appeared to be a storage room, the walls undecorated, and boxes piled up and around. Trinkets and all sorts of things lay draped, hung, stood, and leaning against everything else.
And there, sat on a wooden crate, was someone who could have leapt straight from the pages of a history textbook. A young man with Iceland's looks, wearing clothing several hundred years out of date, was using a fist-sized whetstone to sharpen the edges of the head of a spear. With the medieval weapon on his lap, the youth was carefully swiping across the edges of the deadly-looking spear, sharpening it to slice flesh with a cut.
Well, this was…unexpected.
After finishing the stroke he was on, the man looked up, and (once again) Norway was struck at how similar his features were to Iceland's. Mauve eyes observed him before seemingly deeming him no threat and continuing on with the motion of the whetstone.
Norway abruptly decided that he was just having some kind of lucid dream, because there was no way a man with both a spear and a sword (which he had spotted hanging from the youth's belt) was in Iceland's house in the middle of the night. Norway turned, deciding that all he had seen in this strange dream wasn't real. Iceland's house wasn't this big, there was no medieval warrior sitting comfortably in a storage room, and he was going back to bed before this dream got any crazier.
As he left the room and started walking back to his own guest room, a deep voice filtered down the passage after him.
"Góða nótt, Noregur…"
After his late night escapades, Norway awoke later than usual at 9:16 a.m. After having a quick shower in the bathroom and getting dressed, he went downstairs to grab some late breakfast. Striding into the kitchen to get an apple out of the fruit bowl, Norway stopped suddenly when he saw a man wearing medieval clothing standing comfortably against the work-surface getting himself some toast. The man looked so out of place surrounded by modern things and performing a modern activity, that it was almost funny. Except for the fact that it meant that he hadn't been dreaming last night.
"Morning, Noregur." Gunnar grunted, spreading some jam on his toast and walking past the shell-shocked nation into the living room. Norway followed him after having frozen for a moment, entering the living room. Only there was no medieval warrior sitting on a sofa, but instead Iceland sitting there eating the toast, the news playing on the TV.
Eiríkur looked up at their brother as he hovered in the doorway, clearly confused. "Góðan daginn, Noregur. Did you sleep well?"
"Not as well as I would have liked." Norway muttered, striding to stand in front of Eiríkur and looking down at him. The blond snatched the remote and turned off the television, now receiving Eiríkur's full attention.
"Who else is in this house?" Norway demanded, seeing Eiríkur's face start to pull into a look of confusion (although now Norway could see that it was false), he quickly added. "And do not lie to me. I know you know that there are others here."
Eiríkur's face stopped pretending to be confused. He swallowed, looking down. This was it. If Norway didn't accept them…
Norway knelt down in front of Iceland, putting his hands on his knees, the plate of toast forgotten on the floor. Eiríkur refused to meet Norway's eyes. The elder put a finger under Eiríkur's chin and pushed his head upwards so that his younger brother would look at him. Iceland's face was blank, but his eyes held a deep-seated fear. When lilac met blue, Eiríkur tried to break eye contact.
He is afraid of something, Norway thought, and then a realisation that stabbed at his heart. He is afraid of…me.
Norway let his finger fall and instead encircled his arms around Iceland in the form of a comforting hug. All the fear, the worry and the guilt of keeping the secret had built up inside of Iceland. But now the dam burst, and the swirling torrents of those emotions flooded through. They clutched at Norway, burying their head in his chest and Eiríkur sobbed, shoulders shaking, tears pouring down his face.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! We're sorry, we're sorry, we're sorry…"
"Shhh…" Norway comforted. "It is okay, whatever it is, it is okay."
"Nei…nei, it's not." Eiríkur choked out. "You'll hate us for keeping this from you. You'll hate us, you'll hate us!"
"I could never hate you, lillebror." Norway murmured into their ear, his mind stuck on the fact that Iceland thought he would hate him. How could he hate such a beautiful creature as his younger brother?
"You will…" Eiríkur whimpered.
"I will not." Norway challenged. "Now, explain why you think I will hate you."
"'Cause we've been keeping something huge from you for hundreds of years…"
"Why?"
"'Cause we were scared…"
"Of what?"
"That you'll reject us, hate us…" Eiríkur whispered, trembling. He couldn't look at Norway's face. At the expression that might be on there.
"Silly lillebror. I will never, and could never hate you." Norway looked steadily down at his precious sibling, threading long pale fingers through silver hair. "Now what have you been keeping from me?"
This was it. It could be all over. "T-there's more than one ĺsland!" Eiríkur blurted out, unable to drag it out any longer. Norway inhaled sharply.
"What do you mean?" he asked lowly.
Eiríkur shook at the flat tone. "I-we have Dissociative Identity Disorder. There's four of us, but we all share one body."
"More detail, please." Norway said, trying to absorb what he was being told.
"It s-started ages ago, before you came along. There were people that discovered me before you, and I came into existence then. But they all left and I was there for many years all alone. That loneliness, it tears at your mind. It hurt. It hurt so bad and I was all alone and there was no one else-"
Eiríkur choked and stopped for a moment. He let the comforting murmurings of the other Iceland's calm him down before he continued.
"As I said, there are four of us. Me, Eiríkur. Then there's Teitr, Haraldur and Gunnar. I was so very lonely, and I desperately wanted someone else there. To talk to, to play with. So I created Teitr- an imaginary friend at first. But as you know, all nations have the innate ability to use magic, even if most do not believe any more. My magic poured into Teitr, and he became…real."
Teitr shimmered into existence on the sofa seat next to Eiríkur. "Já, I became real."
Norway looked up at the voice, and came face-to-face with the strange teen from yesterday. Teitr took over from Eiríkur. "I became the second 'ĺsland', although at the time we were not known by that name. I became the companion and friend Eiríkur desperately needed to save himself from going insane with loneliness, although one could say that by me coming into existence he did that."
Teitr sighed, watching as Norway's hands unconsciously rubbed small circles on Eiríkur's back. "We only have one physical body, which we share. We call that body 'ĺsland' and each personality by our human names. When another personality takes control, the body changes slightly and so do the clothes. When we are in control, we cannot talk telepathically with the others, although we can hear them."
"But I can see you there now, as two separate individuals." Norway pointed out. Teitr smiled slightly.
"Já, we can appear outside while we are not in control, but our bodies aren't physical. If you poked me, your hand would go right through me. But anyway, back to the story. After you came along, me and Eiríkur hid my existence. Eiríkur was more used to controlling the body and he was the 'original', so to speak. Eiríkur became 'ĺsland' in the eyes of everyone else."
Norway stopped Teitr again. "But you said there were four of you. When did 'Haraldur' and 'Gunnar' come into existence?"
"I'm getting to that." Teitr grumbled. "Skipping a few hundred years, when the Kalmar Union broke up, you and Eiríkur were separated, já?"
Norway nodded, wincing at the reminder of that awful time in history.
"Right, well, as you know, Danmörk didn't really take your loss well. He started drinking, well, more than he already did. He got pretty violent, too, but never remembered any of it in the morning-"
Norway growled, pulling Eiríkur closer. His eyes were alight with fury. "Are you saying that he-"
"Hit us? Já. But we've forgiven him. People do stupid things when they're drunk. But anyway, Eiríkur didn't really have the power to defend himself, and neither did I. That was when Gunnar was created. He's the one with the sword and spear by the way. He was the embodiment of everything seen in those days as 'strong'. He was a soldier, had a weapon in his hand, was brave and physically powerful. Everything Eiríkur, stuck in a small body, was not."
Norway nodded in understanding, eyes flicking to where Gunnar had materialised himself, leaning against the wall. "So Gunnar was like a…protector?"
Teitr nodded opening his mouth to continue when he was interrupted.
"It's okay, Teitr. I can take it from here." Eiríkur said, straightening up but remaining in Norway's protective hold. "Gunnar was the third personality; he was a warrior who would fight when we couldn't. If it hadn't been for him, we would have come out of those years with far more scars than we did."
Norway twitched at the reminder of the drunken abuse, gripping tighter into Eiríkur's shoulders.
"Skipping a few more years, we started slowly chipping away at Danmörk for our independence. Every law in our favour, every act we could grab onto to help us. But none of us were cut out for the political side of things, Gunnar was made for fighting, Teitr as a friend. Then we created Haraldur, a personality made for tactics. A sharp mind able to navigate the labyrinth of politics and at the same time a wicked strategist, with a mind geared towards war."
"I don't like to go and fight. I'm more of a sit back and plan, and then watch it all happen, sort of a guy." Norway glanced over his shoulder at the Iceland with a trench coat standing behind him, a cruel smirk on his lips. "Let's just say I'm very good at chess, hmm?"
"It was thanks to him that we finally got our independence." Teitr murmured. "He also helps us in world politics after. He knows what he wants and he gets it. Whether the way he goes about it is moralistic or not."
"Don't make me out to be some sort of cruel monster uncaring of others." Haraldur gritted out. "I have always held our people's best interests at heart."
"He wasn't saying that, Haraldur." Eiríkur quickly butted in. "He was merely pointing out that you will do anything for those you care about."
Haraldur grunted, mollified.
Norway stood up. Four pairs of purple eyes darted to him, holding their breaths. Eiríkur spoke quietly, afraid to break the tension in the room. "We're sorry. We kept this from you for so long. It was cowardly of us…"
"Nei. Hush, Eiríkur. All four of you were scared. And understandably so. You…are afraid of me. Of what I will do now."
"…já."
Norway walked slowly over to Gunnar, staring at the warrior in the eyes. "Tusen takk for protecting him when I could not." He whispered.
The blond went over to Haraldur. "Tusen takk for granting him his freedom when I could not help him."
The older brother went and knelt in front of Teitr. "Tusen takk for being his friend when I was not there."
Finally, Norway turned to Eiríkur. He embraced him. He kissed him on the forehead. And then, after a moment of hesitation…on the lips. "Tusen takk for showing me the true you."
Norway stood back up. "Jeg elsker deg. All of you." He said.
And somehow, everything was going to be alright.
Holy-! I'm so sorry for taking so long to update, but does this make up for it? Really, this took me so long to drum out, and it's about five times longer than anything else so far! I feel proud of myself. Although I hope that nobody was too out of character...and the ending is pretty sappy...
A massive thank-you to cuzimafreak, AimIsTalking, TheLandOfIce and Guest who took the time to review. Also a thank-you to YoungJustice4ever, Alonis, Crazyanime and Hoshi19 for favouriting and Alonis, Hoshi19, Molly kirkland, beillaria and gannondorksucks101 for story alerting.
The idea for 'The True You' is that I took one look at the prompt and a voice in my head screamed 'Multiple personalities!' and that is how Iceland ends up sharing his head with three other people. Haraldur, Teitr and Gunnar are all Icelandic names (see, I actually had to go and research for them!). Haraldur means 'leader of an army', so I made him a strategist rather than a warrior. Gunnar means 'warrior' which is why he is how he is (it is also a common Icelandic name) and Teitr means 'joyful' so I made him a nice guy. In case anyone wants to know, Eiríkur means 'a very powerful man'.
So Iceland has muliple personalities, but he's kept it a secret. They all finally decide that Norway has to know, and then reveal themselves to him one at a time. They are scared of rejection because this is something nobody else has ever known. Norway puts their fears to rest. Because they can't be a couple (or a fivesome) if Norway doesn't love all four of them. Which he does. I don't think that Norway would ever not love Iceland, even if he turned completely evil and killed everyone else...
Also, I'm sorry for making Denmark a 'bad guy'! He isn't actually supposed to be, because that's not how I view him. I see him as a guy who just really wanted a family, so when his Govenment kept ruining things and straining relationships he was rather sad. After everyone basically leaves him (except Iceland and some other places like Greenland (I'm reluctant to add in an OC, so just pretend that Greenland and the others lived in their own countries while Iceland lived with Denmark, so that is why they don't appear)) he gets drunk all the time and goes home and hits things (the walls, the furniture, anything) eventually taking it out on Iceland. But he doesn't remember this and Iceland isn't going to tell him because Denmark is hurting and telling him would shatter the guy, so Iceland hides it. Iceland isn't mad with Denmark at all. After a few decades, Denmark gets out of his slump and only occasionally gets drunk. The Nordics are family, after all. Family sticks together when they can and supports each other.
A note on the Norwegian and Icelandic- 'takk' is Norwegian for 'thank you' (which people probably know) and 'tusen takk' is like 'thank you very much', a more serious 'thank you' than just 'takk'. I feel that the context Norway was saying it in made this particular 'thank you' more appropriate. See, I actually did research! The translations should be accurate, I cross-referenced them with several sites because everyone knows that Google Translate is crap (it's alright for single words or simple phrases, but you have to be really careful).
So yeah, hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry again for the wait.
Read and Review, please!
~Variegata~