"I want to go home…"

Iceland was standing at a window, overlooking the city from the vantage point of the castle. People came and went below, ebbed and flowed, but they weren't comforting, they weren't his people. No, these were Bróðir's people, and decades had passed since the child could stand and watch his own at will like this. He had been back to the island, albeit infrequently, as journeys across the sea were too long, and with winter now approaching, dangerous. If only there was another way.

Resigning himself to another winter in Norway, he turned away from the window, his expression very obviously wearing self-pity. He ignored everyone who asked after his well-being as he wandered seemingly aimlessly by. There was no one he felt compelled to talk to, nothing he felt compelled to do. He walked by a familiar door and turned to look at it. Bróðir's room. For a lack of something better to do, he decided he would crawl up somewhere in the room until there was something better to do. Cautiously opening the door, he was met with the sight of his brother leant over his desk, working on a letter or document, he wasn't sure which. Since his back was facing Egill, the child soundlessly entered and sat down beside the bed.

"Good day, Ice." The young man didn't even lift his head to see who had entered, but still knew. Wanting to see if he could fool his brother, the child sat silently, pretending he wasn't he wasn't there at all. After a short moment, Sigurd reaffirmed his knowledge of the boy's presence. "I know you're there, Egill."

The platinum blond walked over and placed his hands on the back of his brother's head. "Do you have eyes back here, Bróðir?"

He almost jumped at the unexpected and frigid touch. Spinning around, he held the thin hands in his own, holding them up to his own cheeks, and answered with a concerned frown. "The fairies told me you came in." Then, dropping the boy's hands back down, he moved his touch to his forehead, brushing away the light-colored strands. Cold as well. After over four hundred years of this nation's life, he had become used to the coldness of his skin, not unlike his own, but this was unnatural. Looking closely, he even noticed that the boy's skin was growing more and more pallid. "Hey, do you feel alright?" His usually calm tone of voice was slightly broken with worry. He never could stop the anxiety he felt for the child's health. Over time, he had only documented strange physical reactions to those unpleasantly common tremors and eruptions of the land, but nothing like this. Feeding his fear from before he ever met the child was the name Iceland that had come from a legend that the land had killed off the entire livelihood of a man, who would go on to condemn the isolated land as uninhabitable. These centuries had proved that man wrong, but the worry that something would turn horribly wrong and kill the nation would always plague Sigurd.

"I'm okay." Egill's brow furrowed as he replied, bewildered by the sudden fretting. "I was thinking about wanting to visit home, but the sea is already icing over…" The young man had turned back to his writing, fumbling for another paper, appearing so preoccupied with other concerns that the boy almost thought he hadn't heard him at all. He sighed, but it wasn't like Bróðir had a way to send him home anyway.

"The sea is already iced over, you say?"

The late reply almost startled the boy. "Yes… Not here, but farther north. I heard the tradesmen debating whether to stay the winter, and that was brought up."

"Is it just me, or is it getting earlier and earlier in the season that we freeze?"

"No, Bróðir, it is getting colder."

Sigurd glanced back to the boy with folded lips. "Let me finish this, then we can see about getting you home."

The statement surprised Egill. For one, even if they did make it to the island, they would inevitably be stuck there until spring, and while he personally didn't have a problem with that, he knew his brother couldn't be away that long, and no way would he let him go alone.

In a short while, Sigurd stood, all but one papers in his grasp. Explaining, he said, "I need to get this sent, then we'll see about your little trip," and nonchalantly left.

After pondering what was on his brother's mind a short while, Egill picked up the left behind paper. The words were different from his own, but still understandable.

"Iceland had become unusually and frighteningly cold and pale. As this has taken place slowly, I have not noticed as soon as I wish I had, and I am decently sure it has to do with something happening in his land. I am going to send him there today for a few days, to survey for anything out of order. Although I do not think he is quite ill, I would like for you to see him when he returns, just to be sure. Regards, Norway"

A letter to the physician? It was just like Bróðir, always making a fuss over him.

In a short while, Sigurd returned, kneeling down on the floor and beckoning for Egill to come to him. Once he was close enough, the young man silently picked up the pendant that had hung around Iceland's neck since infancy, and then pulled out the matching one from his pocket. After several, heavy and silent moments, he spoke even softer than normal. "I trust you, Ice. Only be a few days, and be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. We here haven't heard anything, so look for signs and forewarnings." Egill stared in befuddlement over what he was planning to do. "These will work like a sort of conductor and communicator. If all goes according to plan, you'll be able to teleport there and then send a signal back to me when you're ready to come back." He then focused his eyes on the carved medal, whispering an incantation under his breath. Once finished, he completed his explanation. "Cup it between your hands, just to make sure it works."

Slightly skeptically, the boy did as he was told, and was startled when the pendant lying in Sigurd's lap lit up. "Have you done this before, Bróðir?"

"Yes, but with stones. Denmark and I used a similar technique to frighten people."

"Oh, runes?"

"No, sort of like runes, but…no."

"Oh…"

"Shh…" He placed his hand on the child's head. "Just think about where you want to go. Be serious now, you have to picture it." Without a sound, he mouthed a spell, face twitching as the child disappeared.

Phasing back into view, Egill rubbed his eyes as he recognized the place. The people…he felt the hole in his heart fill as he simply watched them. Many were staring. Of course, it's not every day a child just appears from nowhere.

"Mamma, there's a ghost!"

A soft smile came to his face as he recognized his own tongue spoken from the child, just smaller than himself. It was a young girl, and she ran toward him. Egill didn't move an inch.

"Are you a ghost?" She grinned, not at all afraid, just overly curious.

"No, not really."

"No?"

He clearly remembered his former place here. "I'm a spirit, yes, but not a ghost. I'm not dead."

"Who are you? I'm Eydís."

"I'm Egill." He turned around to look up at the mountains. "I have to go. Take care, Eydís."

He took off in a run, in a hurry to see as much as he could, do as much as he could, enjoy as much as he could, until he had to return to Norway. He came to the port, watching as the last of the merchants readied to leave before the close of the season, carefully listening to everything. Near one ship, there was talk of crop failures, over near the rocks were men discussing the cold weather. Just like Bróðir… Was something really going to turn bad? He walked up to one group, inquiring in broken German.

"Do you know what is happening with the weather?"

The men were surprised to hear this from such a small body. One stooped to his level, answering him in a childish way. "I don't know, boy, that's quite a hard question for such a little child. Where's your family?"

Egill only stared at him with a displeased look. From behind, an older man, at least seventy, joined the group, immediately directing his attention to the child. "Egill? Is that you?"

Egill recognized him at once. It had been nearly fifty years, but he knew this human. "Bjartur?"

"How are things in Norway?" Turning to the German men, he explained, "This is the guardian spirit-child of our people. Do treat him respectfully, he has lived longer than any of us will."

With his most serious face, he repeated his question to the man he knew would take him seriously. "Do you know what's happening with the weather?"

The man's head slightly dropped and he spoke in a whisper. "It's gotten cold…cold very early, and it only gets earlier every year. Any more of this and we won't have as much space to live, I imagine famine is awaiting my grandchildren."

Egill turned his head back to the mountains, imitating the whisper. "Our…everything won't be there for us, will it? Bróðir is already worried and he doesn't know a thing. First will go our trade, then our own food. We'll have to rely on the crown, won't we? And one cannot stop it."

A/N: LOOK AT ME WRITING LIKE I ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT I'M WRITING ABOUT. /totally referring to the magic stuff yup/ Weird headcanons are weird. I hope no one's bothered by Norge's magic because there'll be more of it later on XDD (and I still won't know what I'm writing)

Notes I feel compelled to share:

Where the name "Iceland" comes from (I'm reciting by memory because I really don't feel like looking it up, so forgive/correct me if it's not 100% accurate), there was this man named Flóki sailed to the island and lived there for a summer, but in the winter, all of his livestock died because he wasn't prepared for the cold. Because of the drift ice and because of the cold, he named the island Ísland (Iceland) and declared it worthless.

The runes reference is to the fact that runes were held to have magical qualities. I think Iceland used them for magic, and still believes they're magical for several reasons. One, I use "Egill" as his human name after Egill Skallagrímsson, who used runes. Two, I see Iceland as a skald and a writer, so having learned to write with runes, it's logical that he would have learned…other uses for them. Aaand lastly, I think though Icey is officially "Christian", he still is very pagan. Belief in the Norse gods was never banned, and so he kept on with his beliefs, all while pretending to go along with Christianity.

Yes, Eydís and Bjartur are just random people I made up on the spot.

I think my author's note is almost as long as the chapter… /shot

I hope everyone enjoyed!

~Butter~