hetalia_kink | Hetalia Kink meme part 15

…Yeah, about that ‘I’ll be faster’ thing…. ><
Anyways, I hope this chapter makes up for the time it took. It ended up going in weird and unintended directions, with random flashbacks and such….

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Iceland sits up.

There’re sticky streaks of dirt on his cheeks, which isn’t terribly surprising considering he’s spent the past ten minutes lying on his face beneath a tree. Not the most comfortable of places, really. His entire body hurts now, what with all these roots and stones and things that’ve been digging into his flesh. But it’s not so bad now that he’s sitting, and the rough bark feels nice against his back.

He sighs and scrubs apathetically at his eyes. It’s ridiculous how many tears he’s shed lately. He’s tired of it. Exhausted of it, actually. Ten minutes ago, when he’d collapsed in a heap under this tree after running as far as he could before his eyes filmed over and the world became a blur of shadows and light, he had been full of horrible, thorny, twisted emotions. But he no longer feels upset. He’s not angry, he’s not sad, he’s not afraid. He’s just completely and utterly worn out.

It strikes him that he’s finally reached an emotional wall. His desire to find a way to end his depression outweighs the depression itself. He sits up a little straighter, blinking. Now, he realizes, is the time to stop feeling sorry for himself, sit back, and sort out his messy life.

When did everything start going wrong?

Stupid question—easy question. Life had been fine until his banks failed. That kind of thing tends to ruin your day pretty quickly.

He sighs, cringing internally as he remembers the immediate aftermath. Or rather, as he fails to remember the immediate aftermath. All he has from that period are fuzzy images and snatches of voices, all blurred by sticky, feverish pain. When he’d come back to his senses, Norway and Denmark had both been with him. He had opened his eyes and seen them sitting nearby, talking softly to each other.

The memory still fills him with shame. He wished no one had ever had to see him like that—not even his brothers. Especially not his brothers. Not the nations who had once ruled over him. Not when they must’ve been wondering how he had managed to nearly bankrupt himself after only sixty-four years of independence.

Iceland hated that he’d screwed up. He hated that he was weak in front of the entire world. He still hates it, he realizes.

But okay. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but okay. He could learn from his mistakes. He could be graceful about his failure. That’s what it was to be a nation. When you’re strong, you can be openly proud—but when you’re not, you have to suck it up and bow you head and still, deep down, hold on to your self-respect. He knows that. He could’ve dealt.

But then… who, of all people had to pop out of the past and bother him about money?

Iceland feels a nauseating, slimy mixture of anxiety and revulsion rise in his stomach as he thinks about Netherlands. He’s always felt that way about him, ever since that nightmarish first meeting all those decades ago. But it can’t go on like this. Iceland knows it. He and Netherlands have serious issues to discuss. Circumstances have finally forced them together, just like he’s always feared they would. And now that the others know what happened, there’s no chance in hell of reburying the past.

Up until now, it’s been so easy to avoid Netherlands. Iceland hasn’t wanted anything to do with him, and the feeling has always seemed to be mutual. They of course have had to be in the same room from time to time, but they’ve always kept their distance.

In fact, he’s pretty sure that the last time he saw Netherlands up close was May 5th, 1945. He remembers the date because it was the day that Denmark’s WWII occupation ended….

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Europe was in absolute chaos.

Well, actually, the world was in absolute chaos, reeling from the bombings, the genocide, the crimes, the death—the inhuman brutality of war. But Europe, at that moment especially, was a not a good place to be. Germany was finally going to pieces, and while that was a good thing for most countries (and, Iceland thought, probably a good thing for Germany himself in the long run) the situation was horribly dangerous simply because nobody knew what was going to happen now.

Iceland had been waiting out the war in relative safety at America’s house. Physically, he’d been just fine, aside from a little wartime blockade-related economic illness and some bruises from that damn invasion. (England hadn’t hurt any of his people, thankfully, but even bloodless invasion tended to leave a few bruises and certainly a big one on his pride.)

Mentally, though, Iceland had been a nervous wreck. He hadn’t been able to imagine the state of Europe, or what sort of horrors his fellow nations were going through. He’d been worrying incessantly about the others, hoping that they would all still be alive when the bloodbath finally ended—especially Finland, who had been battling for his life against first Russia and then Germany, and Norway and Denmark, who were being occupied. Iceland had been reading newspapers voraciously and listening to the radio every night, but reliable information was hard to come by in this time of immense fear and confusion. He had no way to quell his fears.

So when he learned that the Nazi occupation of Denmark had finally ended, he had to go straight over and see him, danger or no danger.

Denmark was shaken, upset, and weakened, but comparatively all right. His wan face split like a sunrise when he saw he had company. Iceland stayed with him for over an hour, and together they exchanged stories and worried about Norway and soaked in the shocked, heart-stopping relief that they were both still alive.

Denmark would not let him stay for long. “Just because Germany’s had it doesn’t mean it’s not dangerous here,” he chuckled halfheartedly. “Go back to where you’re safe. I’ll tell old Christian X you visited, he’ll be pleased.”

Iceland had been on his way out when the door banged open. Denmark leaped to his feet with a shout. Iceland cringed, terrified, as someone came charging into the room, barreled right past him, and slammed into Denmark. An attack! Denmark was being invaded again! Germany was back!

But then he realized that the two men were not struggling but hugging and he heard ragged gasps of “Thank God you’re all right!” and “Christ, what happened to you?!” And then, with a jolt of mixed shock, dread, and confusion, he recognized the other nation as Netherlands.

“I can’t believe it! I was worried about you!” Denmark gasped, his face split by a big goofy grin. “Is he gone? Are you okay now?”

“Liberated just today,” Netherlands replied huskily. “Canada freed me.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, but I love the kid.”

Denmark laughed and released Netherlands, holding him out at arm’s length to get a good look at him. “Damn, you look terrible.”

Iceland could get a good look at him too. ‘Terrible’ had always been a fitting adjective for Netherlands in his opinion. But this was a different sort of terrible, and Denmark was right. Netherlands was strained and ragged and ill. He probably hadn’t had enough to eat in ages. Where his skin wasn’t scarred with the burns of broken cities, it looked pale and sickly. His face was hard in a different way than usual, full of sharp jutting angles and deep shadows. His cheeks were flushed with fever. His eyes had that dull, distant, pained look of a nation in shock and grief and devastation, only slightly brightened by his shaky grin.

He looked downright pathetic, and Iceland was still afraid of him.

Netherlands began to tremble, already exhausted. Denmark threw an arm around him for support. “The war’s been hell for you, hasn’t it?” he asked, concerned.

Netherlands grimaced and nodded. “S’not just me, though. Everyone’s like this. You got off easy, you lucky bastard.”

“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.

Regret is such a stupid emotion.

Night’s fallen, and the air is cold. Iceland shivers and thinks of Norway’s warm house. He’ll go back soon.

Chilly wind rustles the branches above him, and he sighs. He feels peaceful now. He’s still not happy, but at the moment, peace is all he could ask for.

A warm, lonely voice catches his attention. He looks up. There’s a small figure making its way down the street, without a light or even a coat. “Ice?” calls the voice. “Ice?”

“Over here,” Iceland answers. “Under the tree.”

The figure pauses and turns in his direction. Not ten seconds later, Finland is crouching down beside him, his kind round face full of warmth. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Iceland replies, and for once he really means it.

“I’m sorry about Denmark. I…I’m sure he really didn’t mean to come off that way, you know how he is—”

“Yeah, I know. It’s okay. I’m fine. Honestly, I am.”

“Are you ready to come back? It’s getting cold, and it’d really be better if you were inside. We’ll give you privacy if you want. We understand if you need to be alone.”

“It’s okay.” Iceland stands, wincing as his chilled, stiff joints reluctantly cooperate. “Let’s go back. I want to be together now.”

Finland smiles at him, and side by side they start up the street.

---
Random WWII flashbacks, yay! And yes, the occupations of Denmark and the Netherlands did end on the same day.
Happy holidays, everyone. <3

Yay, an update! I liked it a lot, there is a serious lack of WWII Nordic fics, so the flashbacks were more than welcome. And I love your Iceland's inner voice.

Happy holidays to you too, author!anon!

It's kind of a shame, isn't it? :/ Maybe I'll go looking for some Nordic WWII prompts after this....
Also, thank you. ^^

-smiles- It's a little more than bittersweet, considering the fight that Denmark and Netherlands got into over that incident.

It was awesome how you noted the difference between historical/political events and private events. And I liked how you mentioned how far the nations have come in regards to tentatively accepting each other and putting the past behind them. :D

"It was awesome how you noted the difference between historical/political events and private events. And I liked how you mentioned how far the nations have come in regards to tentatively accepting each other and putting the past behind them."

Thank you, I actually had fun thinking that whole part out, so I'm really happy that somebody took notice of it. <3

Yay, an update! <3 Wonderful, absolutely wonderful

(I feel really bad about it, but I'm seriously hoping for some unrequited Ned/Den on the side, because that would make it even more fucked up and dear god why do I want to do these things to my favorite characters! /Shoots self)

~~Out of twisted curiosity, do you mean Ned -> Den or Den -> Ned?~~

~~Ned<->Den? /shot~~

~~How do you have something unrequited both ways? (SORRY I'M A SPAZ xP)~~

~~_{USUK shippers do it all the time *shot*}~~

~~The angsty hilarity of that situation is half of the appeal of the pairing, to some of us. XD~~

~~It's the train wreck appeal!~~

Whatever direction you take this story, I am sure I'll be pleased! It's so well written and thought out, totally rooting for ice to get well! And maybe even rooting for him to get a little close to Netherlands in the end?

I won't hope and guess too much, this is your story, and I'm sure you will make the best out of it! I do know, that I've fallen in love with this pairing, would love to see more of them!

Thanks, ~~I think you'll like the ending. ^^~~

I'd actually love to see somebody take Ned/Ice in a non-twisted way... maybe I'll request it sometime (don't think I could ever write it myself after this. xD)

I totally just replied to all the comments, didn't I? Comment space? What's that? We max when we max, right? *derp* Ahaha, ah well, you guys are awesome so how could I not reply to you?

~~Ok, I am really excited now. xD~~

I'm afraid I'm not much of a writer.. So I'd feel bad requesting fics for them myself and not be able to fill requests here in return. I have drawn Ned/Ice a few times before, more related to the crisis and the debt Iceland has to the Netherlands, though I have never posted these drawings anywhere before. So I guess I could draw a few art fills, but it's not very anonymous.. xD Though maybe, I'll make an exception for this fic, I think I'd like to draw a few scenes from this! Well, with your permission?

It's always nice to hear your support is being appreciated! The only thing I really worry for is that we max before the story ends and I can't find the new thread!/small>

Hetalia Kink meme part 15

And Such Are The Consequences 6a/10

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Nayrt

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