The meeting went on for a month before it was pointed out that they were getting nowhere.
Everyone was sent home, to think and make plans, to rebuild.
Technically, Norway was the winner.
It did not feel like it.
Perhaps it had been too long since he'd had a victory of his own.
Perhaps it was that this one had nearly not been at all.
It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. He was sitting alone on the window seat of the house he'd rented until his house was rebuilt- probably in a new location, but he'd asked that the city be restored first.
The quiet was a relief. The only sounds were of nature - not the arguing of nearly two hundred nations, not his own voice twisted into something it was not- just the birds, and the wind, and the gurgling of a creek.
He wondered briefly about his old house- rather, houses. He'd had quite a few over the centuries. Only one had ever felt like his.
But it was long gone, destroyed by German bombs in the early part of 1940. It was the one place he'd ever truly felt safe.
The house that had been built nearer the city after the war was gone now, too.
And so, here he was, renting a small house a few miles from town, only he and his daughter (Denmark had a few things he'd needed to work out in Copenhagen, but he'd be back in a few days), when he heard a soft knock, almost like the wind, at the front door.
Curiously, he stood. He hadn't been expecting anyone; he'd heard no one drive up…
Well, it could be important.
Though, trust was not something he easily bestowed on anyone. He checked the knife at his belt. He would not be taken again. He would not.
Cautiously, he opened the door.
No one was there.
No, this could not be happening. Not aga-
A sudden noise startled him. He looked down.
Three baskets. Bassinets, rather.
The answer to their problems.
He knew what he had to do.
First, he called Scotland to ask if he wouldn't mind watching Normandy for the afternoon. France answered the phone, and invited Norway to dinner after he finished his errand (Norway could practically hear the pout in France's voice at Norway's refusal to tell him exactly what he was doing). Norway accepted (he still really wanted to see the baby).
Then, he left.
One good deed, to outweigh all of the transgressions. He could do this much.