Norovegr had no idea what to do with this information. Less than none. Men did not have children, not in this sense.
What the hell was he supposed to do with a child?
Nope, it would be best to go elsewhere. His people didn't need to know about this. Nope. Had nothing to do with them. Nothing at all.
And Danmark…he didn't need to know about this either. Sure, he probably was the father (definitely the father, based on Norovegr's vague ideas on how these things worked), but that meant…nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Nope, he was going away. And doing… something… with the child…. And coming back, with that big oaf, who was entirely to blame, none the wiser.
Absolutely nothing could go wrong.
Well, not until a storm-random thing, that- off the coast blew his little boat way off course, leaving him to finally land on an island. He had absolutely no idea where he was. In fact, he was pretty sure that those islands weren't supposed to exist. Certainly, none of the explorers had said a word about them, and they would, as they were braggarts. Every last one.
Still, it wasn't entirely too bad, and in the early months of the summer, he managed to set up a fairly nice accommodation for himself, since he had decided to stay until the child was born.
The child was born during another storm, this one eight months later. In the preceding months, Norovegr had every intention of leaving it on the shore to live or die as it would, but after…
He walked along the beach, barefoot, holding his child closely. Winter was coming, and while the cold didn't bother him, he didn't wish his two-day-old daughter to catch cold.
She was beautiful, and there was no way he was leaving her behind.
It would soon be time to try to make it back home before winter set in for real. Norovegr was fairly confident in his ability to get back- the storm that sent him here had been freakish; such a thing wouldn't happen again. The sea thrummed in his veins, after all.
Norovegr took a deep breath and knocked. Would Danmakr be angry or-?
Would he even be there?
The door opened. "Norge! Where the hell have you been? I was so worried-"
"This is Ingrid. I found her," Norovegr interrupted. "She is my daughter."
"And you claimed me just like that?"
"It was far easier in those days. Fewer laws, fewer governments."
"But you lied to Danmark."
"I often lie to Danmark. It is really the only way to deal with him some days."
Faeroes made a face. "I really didn't want to hear that."
"That's not what I was talking about and you know it."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever." She looked away. "What should I call you?"
"Excuse me?"
"Well, should I call you 'Mother' or should I call you 'Father', or-?" She trailed off.
Norway did have problems making people call him what he wish them to call him (Denmark and Iceland come to mind readily), and he had thought and this issue briefly. Every night. Gods, being a father was hard work. "I- um, well, that is to say, whatever makes you feel comfortable, Ingrid."
She smiled. It was rare that anyone of Norway's family (with the notable exceptions of Finland and Denmark) smiled.
"Now that we have that settled, what's your story?" Turnabout was fair play, after all.
The smile was instantly replaced by a glare.
A/N: I am very much alive, FYI. I found my muse again, it looks like. Turns out my muse was not, in fact, male, like I thought. Sorry for the long delay. I really have nothing to say for myself.