"Bróðir, why?"

"Because the king said so."

"I don't have a king and I don't have to listen to yours." The young blond scowled, beating a twig on the ground as his older brother tried to talk to him. "Give me one good reason I should do what he wants. He's crazy and I hate kings."

Norway was knelt beside Iceland, his face solemn. He had been charged with a task that he wasn't sure if he wanted to agree with himself and it wasn't turning out pleasant at all. "Egill… Ice, I don't want to force you. Maybe a good reason is that he is crazy, he thinks he can dictate your land and he'll do whatever it takes."

"Don't lie to me, you want to tell me what to do too, don't you?"

The older boy sighed frustratedly. "I just want to make sure you're safe. That man…I don't want him to do something absurd."

"I don't know. I don't want things to change. Everything's perfect now."

Sigurðr disagreed on the state of 'perfection', but kept his opinion to himself. Holding out his arms to the child, he explained, "He's just going to send more teachers anyway, no matter what you or your people say. I don't know what to think of all this yet myself, but don't let it get extreme."

Egill accepted the offered embrace. "Okay, Bróðir. I won't get hurt. I'll be okay." The young nation turned back to look at the Christian man of his people, sent home by Norway's king with the sole intention of converting the island, and muttered to himself. "Traitor."

Iceland was a strong-willed nation, a characteristic of both the child Egill and the people he represented. Deep-rooted in their own beliefs, the thought of changing their lives for a different god was generally met with sneers, but the push from a foreign sovereign threatened their lives as well. The people remembered their roots, but they were independent from them, and this king shouldn't have any say in their lives. The failure of Iceland to separate entirely from the politics and governments of Norway would eventually bring the nation down, nearly destroying everything they had created from nothing.

From his accession to the throne in 995, Olaf I of Norway began a move to force his country into Christianity, and spread his efforts to Iceland, as if he had jurisdiction over it. Recognizing himself as independent, Iceland repeatedly refused as a nation, though a converted minority of the people grew. Besides the island's issues of identity as separate, Christianity would eventually topple his own government. The boy could almost foresee this scenario, and pushed away the attempts of conversion. The rulers of his island were regarded as a sort of god. A new god, one that would not allow for polytheism, would surely cause chaos as the people would no longer have a reason to look up to the 'góðar', would it not? His own brother, not fully convinced on the religion himself yet, was pressured to make the child submit. The pressure was in turn placed on Egill, and began to threaten the nation upon an almost barren land. The country was worn, almost to the point of civil conflict.

By the arbitration of one man, considered to be a fair and intelligent man, Iceland became Christian.

In the distance, Egill heard a loud, unfamiliar laugh, but brushed it off as another child. It was coming closer quickly and he could soon make out the words, the voice obviously not of a child, but of an adolescent young man.

"So where's the lil kiddy?" The second person's voice was indiscernible. "Really? … I can't wait! … Ehehe!"

The source of the voice soon came into view. A tall teen, his blond hair wind-blown, followed a short step behind by Egill's brother. Sigurðr pointed just then to the child, and his friend took off in a run toward him.

"Hey, kiddo!" the young man came to a sudden stop, bending down to Egill's height, his bright blue eyes radiating enthusiasm. "You Norway's baby Iceland? I'm Denmark."

"Denmark?" the boy blinked. "Oh! I know about you. You can call me Egill, Malte."

"'Malte'? Ha, kid, Egill, I don't use that name anymore."

"Why not? It's not a bad name…"

Norway had caught up to the two by then and answered the question for his friend. "Sometimes us nations just do that… Especially when we go through a lot of changes, like we have at our home recently."

Denmark added with a smile, "Yeah, Den-Den's a new man and has big ambitions. I'm called Mathias now, by the way."

"That's a good name too." Egill wrapped his arms around the young man. "I've always wanted to meet you."

"I've wanted to meet you too, tyke. It's a hard life being so much better than everyone else though." Mathias giggled almost childishly, narrowly avoiding a slap to the head from Sigurðr. "Okay, in truth, I'm taking care of Sigurðr now, and he wanted to come say hi, so I came along too."

"Bróðir doesn't need you to take care of him…" The child pouted and looked to his brother for confirmation.

"Well…" Mathias started before being cut off by his friend.

"There are somethings people have to do at some times, Egill." Sigurðr averted his eyes slightly. "Maybe you were slightly right about some kings. Denmark drove out my king, and…I'm not sure how I feel about what's happening yet. We'll get everything back together soon."

Iceland simply rolled his eyes with an expression that said 'I would tell you that you're only going to end up in trouble again, but you won't listen to me because I'm a child'. After a few silent minutes of the older two fussing over him, he pulled away, beckoning for them to come along too.

The two followed Egill to a small house, which Sigurðr noted to be different from the last time he visited. As they entered, he was carefully examining the place. Yes, he was concerned for the boy's safety. He would have given anything to take him for his own, and now that he had begun to settle down and once he was on his own feet again, it would be a definite possibility to consider.

Egill took down a plate of fish from a table and offered it to his guests, with only a simple, "It's fresh." Sigurðr passed on the offer, going of on his own to find a caretaker of his younger brother, as had become his custom whenever he visited. He had a feeling that Egill would never tell him if something were wrong, even gravely wrong, and he worried over it.

Mathias had sat down beside the child and received the food gratefully. Taking a second plate for himself, Egill started with a question he meant in complete seriousness. "So, what are you all about?"

"What do you mean, kid?"

"Tell me about yourself."

"Let's see…" the young man's smile faltered slightly, thinking of a way to explain how he viewed himself to a child. "I am the oldest of us, you realize. I'm a really smart guy, and I'd love to see everyone I care about as a family, since I haven't had one. My mother was never there — I don't even know who she was — and my father disappeared to England when before the viking age. Though I am currently the ruler of England, but I have yet to find him, he's probably dead. Norway makes a big deal out of getting out on his own again, but I want him to stay. I just want my family all together."

"You know England?"

"Yeah?"

"I know England…and Scotland and all of them. I'm pretty sure I share blood with them, at least I hope I do. Their home is so much nicer…"

Mathias was shocked by the words that he deemed too mature to come from a child's mouth.

"Don't tell Bróðir this, but I wish he'd leave me alone. Him and his kings are always trying to tell me what to do, but I'm my own person. I look little and cute, but I'm no child, not in my head. One cannot simply tell their brother to get lost though. England and those in that land seem so much more reasonable, and I like their life. I'd never give up my life though, no matter the threats. It's been hard enough these last few decades, and when it seemed like everything would be lost, I met them from Britain and they had everything working. It gave me a little hope."

"Hey… What are you talking about?"

"A little less than thirty years ago, Olaf Tryggvasson forced me to become Christian. I thought it'd destroy my life."

"Why? I mean…I've been Christian for–"

"No, I still think it will, if I can't keep this from crumbling over on itself. You wouldn't understand."

"Ice…"

The child pointedly ignored him, turning his attention to the food in his lap. A small while later, he looked back up to the teen with a tiny smirk. "I bet I can eat more than you."

A/N: I can't stress this enough (because it bugs the crap out of me): most of what I write in this story, especially in very early history, is gleaned from sources and filtered through opinion. I don't think it's entirely accurate, but I'm using conjecture as how a national personification would feel about history. Nazi Germany is a perfect example of not everything the government has to be connected the the personification, and so I think a lot of things are like that. For example, in this chapter, Norway has mixed feelings about the exile of Olaf II because that scene takes place before his death, which is when he became a national hero. There's a bunch of other stuff I wrote in that frame of mind. I've done a lot of research for this, but if you have any comments on how I portrayed it, if you liked it or not, or if you'd like me to explain my thinking, please ask~ I love ranting about my headcanons, especially history related ones.

I'd really, really, REALLY~ appreciate reviews. Fellow authors will understand my joy at receiving reviews.

~Butter~