“So I’ve heard.” Denmark slipped both arms around Netherlands and pulled him close, half-hugging him and half-supporting him. Netherlands sighed, closed his eyes, and let himself be held.
If millions of people hadn’t just died in the cruelest war the world had yet seen, Iceland might have laughed. Not because of the two grown men hugging like schoolgirls. That was perfectly understandable, and having grown up around Denmark, he was used to it.
Iceland would’ve laughed at himself for being absurd.
He was still terrified of Netherlands. Netherlands' hands were dirty blistered skin stretched over knobby bones and still Iceland was terrified of them.
---
It doesn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.
Netherlands grows tulips. He owns a pet rabbit. When his judgment has been adequately incapacitated by alcohol or other substances, he can do some lovely dances in wooden clogs. All this Iceland knows to be true.
And yet, Netherlands is the one who took advantage of him as a young, stupid child. That Iceland also knows to be true.
There’s a discrepancy here, and Iceland dearly wishes he could just be rid of it. He wants to forgive. He wants to forgive Netherlands not necessarily because Netherlands deserves it, but so that he can stop being afraid of him and so that he can stop feeling sick whenever they see each other and so that he can live in peace with the world. He wants to, but he doesn’t know if he can.
Like so many other things, this would be so much easier if he were just human. Humans can choose justice or ignorance or avoidance over forgiveness. Nations don’t have the luxury of justice. The world is too small. Things change too quickly. Life is too long. It’s either forgive or live a life full of hatred and unhappiness.
Just last week Iceland remembers seeing Poland compliment Germany on his new tie as though World War II had never happened. He’s seen Russia and America exchange tentative smiles, slowly putting the Cold War behind them. He can remember a time during which Finland hated Sweden bitterly, and now they’re closer than ever. Iceland himself has forgiven other nations time after time—Denmark for taking him, Norway for leaving, Sweden for taking Norway, England for stealing his damn fish.
Why, after so many centuries, haven’t he and Netherlands made up? Perhaps it’s because what happened had no basis in history or politics. Perhaps it’s because it’s been a secret and they’ve never had to discuss it. Or maybe that particular event touches on their insecurities. After all, Netherlands can’t be proud of molesting a child. And Iceland… Iceland can’t forget that sneaking thought….
Maybe, if he let Netherlands do what he wanted, his brothers would think he was a real Viking. Maybe they would take him seriously and stop bossing him around. Maybe they would realize that he’s grown up.
Maybe, if he took his little newly independent country and became prosperous, the others would see him as one of them. Maybe they would stop babying him. Maybe they’d finally treat him like fellow nation and not a colony or a territory or a little brother….
But how could they now that he’s failed and sick and nearly bankrupt?
Iceland groans quietly. He understands. It’s the same thing. It’s always the same thing.
And Such Are The Consequences 6c/10
If millions of people hadn’t just died in the cruelest war the world had yet seen, Iceland might have laughed. Not because of the two grown men hugging like schoolgirls. That was perfectly understandable, and having grown up around Denmark, he was used to it.
Iceland would’ve laughed at himself for being absurd.
He was still terrified of Netherlands. Netherlands' hands were dirty blistered skin stretched over knobby bones and still Iceland was terrified of them.
It doesn’t make sense. It didn’t make sense then, and it doesn’t make sense now.
Netherlands grows tulips. He owns a pet rabbit. When his judgment has been adequately incapacitated by alcohol or other substances, he can do some lovely dances in wooden clogs. All this Iceland knows to be true.
And yet, Netherlands is the one who took advantage of him as a young, stupid child. That Iceland also knows to be true.
There’s a discrepancy here, and Iceland dearly wishes he could just be rid of it. He wants to forgive. He wants to forgive Netherlands not necessarily because Netherlands deserves it, but so that he can stop being afraid of him and so that he can stop feeling sick whenever they see each other and so that he can live in peace with the world. He wants to, but he doesn’t know if he can.
Like so many other things, this would be so much easier if he were just human. Humans can choose justice or ignorance or avoidance over forgiveness. Nations don’t have the luxury of justice. The world is too small. Things change too quickly. Life is too long. It’s either forgive or live a life full of hatred and unhappiness.
Just last week Iceland remembers seeing Poland compliment Germany on his new tie as though World War II had never happened. He’s seen Russia and America exchange tentative smiles, slowly putting the Cold War behind them. He can remember a time during which Finland hated Sweden bitterly, and now they’re closer than ever. Iceland himself has forgiven other nations time after time—Denmark for taking him, Norway for leaving, Sweden for taking Norway, England for stealing his damn fish.
Why, after so many centuries, haven’t he and Netherlands made up? Perhaps it’s because what happened had no basis in history or politics. Perhaps it’s because it’s been a secret and they’ve never had to discuss it. Or maybe that particular event touches on their insecurities. After all, Netherlands can’t be proud of molesting a child. And Iceland… Iceland can’t forget that sneaking thought….
Maybe, if he let Netherlands do what he wanted, his brothers would think he was a real Viking. Maybe they would take him seriously and stop bossing him around. Maybe they would realize that he’s grown up.
Maybe, if he took his little newly independent country and became prosperous, the others would see him as one of them. Maybe they would stop babying him. Maybe they’d finally treat him like fellow nation and not a colony or a territory or a little brother….
But how could they now that he’s failed and sick and nearly bankrupt?
Iceland groans quietly. He understands. It’s the same thing. It’s always the same thing.
Regret is such a stupid emotion.