Walking through the wet streets of Reykjavik, Iceland shivered as he carried a bag of groceries in one hand and an umbrella in the other. He knew it was going to rain but he never expected it to be this cold. Even his long dark brown topcoat was no match for the sudden change in temperate. He cursed at himself mentally for not bringing his gloves. But not all was bad however as he wasn’t far from home. A nice bath would do him good.

Turning around a nearby corner, Iceland walked onto a path mixed with dirt and gravel that lead into a residential neighbourhood. Due to the rain, his brown oxford-styled shoes were quickly covered in mud but Iceland could have cared less. All he was focused on was getting out of the rain and making sure he got the groceries home in one piece. The last thing he wanted was having all the food he had bought in the marketplace to drop to the ground and become soiled. As he walked up the road, he began seeing his tiny home in the distance and began picking up the pace. However as he got closer to his home, a figure began to become noticeable to his eyes. He couldn’t tell who the individual was, due to the angle and the umbrella they were holding, but his curiosity was peaked. He almost never had guests unless it was a neighbour delivering him some baked treats or Denmark coming to check up on him. But as the individual became more and more visible to him, his heart nearly sank as he felt himself stop cold in front of his wooden fence. The character, standing at his doorstep, slowly turned around when they heard the sounds of Iceland’s shoes rub against the pebbles on the ground. It was a young man, perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, wearing a black frock coat with a matching bowler hat, derby-styled shoes, and a visible dark blue necktie. Iceland’s eyes were fixated on the man’s soulless dark blue eyes and widening smile as both their hair whipped through a sudden gust of harsh wind.

“Ice, it’s so good to see you again.”

Iceland, however, never spoke a word. His emotions were mixed but not one was positive. He certainly had no interest in seeing him, let alone even speak to him. When Iceland regained his composure, he merely walked past him and mumbled how he was not interested in seeing him. He nearly fell backwards however had he not regained his balance as the man tugged desperately on his arm.

“I know this is sudden but I came all this way from Oslo to see you. Can we please talk inside?”

When their eyes met once more, the sincere tone in his voice struck a chord in Iceland’s chest. He truly didn’t want anything to do with him but it was becoming increasingly difficult to say no. He loosened the grip on Iceland’s arm and Iceland quickly backed away and went straight for the door. Trying to free up his hands, he placed the bag of groceries on the concrete step, reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his key, and unlocked the door. He closed the umbrella and grabbed his bag once more. However, before entering, he sighed deeply before turning around to address the man, the man he called “Norway.”

“Fine, you can come in and we’ll talk. But on one condition, you leave immediately once we are finished.”

He nodded, “If that’s what you wish.”

The two men walked inside, removed their shoes, and tossed their umbrellas in a large mosaic-patterned vase. Both men soon removed their coats and hats and placed them on the rack. Iceland grabbed his bag of groceries and quickly scurried into the kitchen to put them away. Once he was finished, he rested his back against a nearby table. He ran his hand through his thick silver hair and sighed deeply. He really was uninterested in seeing Norway here in his home. He hadn’t seen him since he had left for Sweden’s house, leaving him in Denmark’s care. It had been just over ninety years but his feelings towards him were still the same; resentment and bitterness. Despite this, he decided to get things over with and see what exactly Norway wanted from him. He noticed he looked a little scruffy so he quickly fixed himself up. He rolled up his sleeves and re-positioned the straps of his suspenders before walking back into the living room. Norway turned his head and smiled once he saw Iceland return. He walked towards Iceland and soon they stood face to face. The height difference was noticeable but the gap between was closing. Iceland had grown considerably since Norway last saw him and he now stood just below his chin. Norway himself had grown a bit but not much. Although his smile was small and sincere, internally he was gleaming in joy. He was so proud of what his brother had become. Norway placed his hands against Iceland’s cold cheeks before resting them on his shoulders. He admired the way the younger man looked. Even though Iceland was far from the well-groomed and formal look he had, it not once changed his opinion about him.

“You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re turning into a handsome man.”

Iceland growled under his breath as he brushed Norway’s hands off his shoulders, “Don’t touch me,” he uttered before walking past him and making his way to a near-by window. The rain was coming down harder than earlier and sounds of it tapping against the window could be heard around the room. Norway’s smile quickly disappeared from his face as he lowered his head in shame.

“I see you’re still angry. I guess I can’t say I’m surprised,” he said in a much quieter tone. Iceland huffed before taking a moment to respond.

“Of course I’m still angry. But that doesn’t matter right now. What did you want to talk about?”

“I came because I wanted to apologize.”

“Apologize?” he mockingly laughed, “You’re ninety one years too late.”

“I know Ice and I’m sorry. But I didn’t have a choi—”

“Choice?!” he interrupted loudly, “Of course you had a choice!”

Norway calmly shook his head, “No Ice that’s not how it works. We rebelled, we fought, and we lost. And what my boss says, I have to follow. That’s part of being a nation. You don’t make the choices, they do. And we have to abide by them.”

The sounds of rain pouring down continued to fill the room and neither man spoke nor budged from their spots. Norway’s words however were not good enough for Iceland and soon his emotions overpowered logic.

“I know you’re angry with me. And you have every right to be. But I never stopped thinking about you while I was living with Sweden. I always made sure to write letters to you whenever I had the chance. Did you ever get them?”

“I did,” he replied. Norway felt thrilled upon hearing that response. It meant that Denmark had kept his promise to him after he left. However, the feeling was short-lived when he heard the next reply, “But I never read any of them.”

Norway’s heart sank, “I see,” his voice trailed off. He had put a lot of his soul into writing those letters and to know he not once opened a single one sadden him deeply. Iceland took a moment and bit his lip before speaking up.

“Norway?”

“Yes?”

“Please do me a favour and just leave. You came here asking me to accept your apology and I choose not to. Our conversation is done.”

“But—”

“Did you honestly come here thinking we could resume our relationship just like that?! You‘ve been gone almost a hundred years and not once did you bother to come and see me. Your letters mean absolutely nothing. Please just go.”

Iceland choked on his last words. But Norway sighed in defeat and walked back towards the doorway. He dressed himself with his jacket, hat, and shoes and grabbed his umbrella from the large vase. He replied, “I love you lots Ice. I’ll be back soon,” before walking out into the downpour and shutting the door. Iceland couldn’t hold his emotions back any longer and openly sobbed into his hands.

Quietly shutting the door to his tiny hotel room, Norway tossed his jacket and hat on a coat rack and hung his umbrella on the other side of the rack. He walked over to a near-by chair, sat down, and buried his face into his hands before assuming a crouching position and looking down at his feet. The feeling of guilt overwhelmed him. Thinking back to memories past, he had come to the conclusion that Iceland was absolutely right. He didn’t make much of an effort to come and reconcile with him during his time with Sweden. Letters were simply not enough. His people were frequently on his land fishing for herring and partaking in whale hunting. Norway on occasion had even joined the men on their fishing trips and yet he made no efforts to visit him. There was simply no excuse for him to have done what he did. Neither Sweden nor Denmark had barred him from contacting Iceland. In Sweden’s case, he’d be hypocritical if he did such a such thing. He and Finland used to quietly communicate through letters themselves.

Reaching into his vest pocket, he took out a small photograph and stared down at it. Norway missed the days when Iceland was just a child. The sounds of voice and laugh still echoed in mind. But his smile was what he missed the most. His smile was captivating and often times it was hard to not smile along with him. But he knew that if even if they were to reconcile, that child-like voice and laugh were long gone and they weren’t coming back. But his smile was something that could transcend all throughout his life. He hoped one day he could see his brother smile once more. Maybe tomorrow would be his lucky day.

Iceland lay comfortably in bed, curled up in thick and warm blankets. Across the room, some candles were lit for light and warmth. He could still hear the rain pouring down outside as it roughly tapped against his bedroom window. While it let up for a few moments during the evening, the rain had been rough and consistent through the whole day and it worried him greatly about potential flooding, not only within his home but within the surrounding area.

But that’s not all that was on his mind. His mind and heart were emotionally heavy. Norway’s presence earlier in the day put him on an emotional roller-coaster and it became increasingly difficult to fall asleep. He found himself replaying old memories over and over again and being fixated on the unopened letters. Iceland never put too much thought into them in the past. Every now and then, Denmark would give him letters that were addressed to him from Norway but he had never bothered to open them. Sometimes he would even throw them away but they’d still find their way into Iceland’s bedroom and onto his night-table, presumably from Denmark’s doing. Early on, the sheer mention of his name would irritate him to no end. As time progressed, he grew older and some of his anger subsided but he still remained bitter towards him. However, things were not peachy between him and Denmark either. But he was less hostile towards him, especially when he and the King were granting him and his people more control and less restrictions. Soon Iceland was allowed to live permanently on the island where he had been teaching himself to be more independent and he loved the feeling more than anything in the world. He never wanted to go back.

In a fit of emotional frustration, Iceland tossed the blankets off of him and grabbed a candle off his night table. He walked over to a near-by closet and swung the door right open. Using his right-hand, he anxiously began moving items left, right, and center, looking for a medium-sized brown box. After a few moments, he found the box hiding behind some books and old toys he had used to play with. With the box closely held against his chest, Iceland dashed out of his bedroom, down the hall, and made his way into his small study room. He placed both items down on the table and quickly lit up the fireplace. Making his way back to his desk, he sat comfortably in a fancy wooden chair that Denmark had given to him. He took a deep breath before dusting off and opening the box. He dumped all the envelopes onto his desk and began sorting through them. He could easily tell which ones were the letters he had tried to throw away, noticing the crumples within the discoloured paper. He picked up one of the envelopes and opened it up. He unfolded the letter and began reading it. As he read, Norway’s choice of words were powerful and it struck a chord with Iceland as he himself began feeling a little remorseful, almost giving off the feel of a parent losing their child. He kept going the through the pile and they all gave off that similar atmosphere. His letters would always start and end the same. A wish for him to write back and a message of sorrow when Norway’s wish was never granted. His eyes soon began getting heavy however and he quickly began falling asleep on top of the pile of endless messages. As his eyes shut for the night, a mumble of words escaped his lips, “I’m sorry...”

The night had come and gone but Mother Nature refused to let the sun shine over the Icelandic city and instead greeted them with more gloomy clouds and buckets of rain. Norway didn’t seem to mind, his mind pre-occupied with other things. Arriving back to Iceland’s doorstep, he knocked on his door three times. Seconds passed and the door slowly opened. However, when Iceland noticed who it was he quickly tried to shut the door but Norway had stuck his foot in the doorway to prevent him from doing so. Groaning in frustration and in defeat, he swung the door open and the two men met face-to-face. Norway was all smiles but Iceland was less than thrilled.

“Can I come in?”

Iceland took a moment but turned his head away, “Fine,” he sighed. Norway was caught off-guard by the sudden change in Iceland’s behaviour but he didn’t complain as he entered into his home, following the same rituals as before. The two men took their seats across from each other, the only thing separating them being a small coffee table. Norway took a moment and had a good look at the younger man. Iceland was more sharply dressed than the previous day, wearing a grey-coloured jacket with matching trousers, complete with a buttoned up black vest and bowtie. Norway admired the look, feeling it looked just right on him. His attention was then grabbed by a medium-sized brown box on the coffee table. He curiously gazed at it until the sound of Iceland’s voice put him out of a trance.

“I read your letters,” he said, not once looking at the other nation.

“You did? What changed your mind?”

“I couldn’t sleep last night and my curiosity got the best of me. I have to ask however, why did you keep writing to me when I never did?”

A small smile crept onto Norway’s face, “Because I love you Ice,” he replied as the comment baffled his brother. He gently placed his left hand onto Iceland cheek, “My comment from yesterday still stands. I never stopped thinking about you. I wanted to know everything that was going on in your life. Dan kept my promise and always wrote to me about how much you were changing and growing up. He even sent me pictures of you,” he concluded before reaching into his coat pocket. He pulled out a roughed up photograph and handed it over to Iceland, “This one is one of my favourites.”

Iceland stared at the photo in disbelief. The photograph was a portrait piece of himself in formal wear and he sat on a bench with Mr. Puffin at his side. He couldn’t recall where the photo was taken but when he turned over to the back of it and saw the date ‘1882’ written on it, he immediately thought of the King and Queen’s Golden Jubilee and remembered Denmark had the photo taken before they had left for the palace. “Dan sent you this?”

“Of course. All the photos I have of you were sent to me by him,” he replied. A moment of silence fell between them and Norway’s expression became serious, “Look, I know you’re angry. You have every right to be. I deserve it. But I’m on my own now and I want to us to start fresh. We can’t change the past but we can form the future with the decisions we make now,” he paused as he gazed into Iceland’s eyes, both his hands cupped against the boy’s cheeks, “Let’s start it on a good note. Please? For me?”

Norway’s expression softened at this point but Iceland was losing his composure and Norway was quickly beginning to notice the old Iceland that he remembered from so long ago once again. He couldn’t pull Iceland in for a hug so instead he compromised and rested his forehead against his. “I missed you so much.”

“You’re so stupid,” he said timidly. Norway however laughed and took that answer as a ‘yes’. He soon began noticing the sunlight shining through the windows and the gray clouds moving out into the distance. Norway couldn’t help but smile.

“Freyr is showing his light...”

“You know it wasn’t necessary for you to come with me right? I’m just buying some food.”

“Any time with you is well-spent. Don’t ever forget that.”

Some time had passed since the two had reconciled. The two men were in the heart of Reykjavik doing some shopping in the market. Iceland was just looking to buy some food but Norway had insisted on tagging along. The two had passed by a group of young women and couldn’t help but overhear one of the women talking about them.

“How silly. They think we’re brothers,” Iceland said as the two continued to walk through the market.

“Hmm? How’s that silly? It’s true,” he replied as he stole an apple from the bag Iceland was carrying.

“No we’re not. We’re not related.”

A loud crunch could be heard as he took a bite out of the apple, “We don’t have to be related to be brothers Ice. But while we’re on the subject, I wouldn’t be surprised if we’re blood-related.”

“Why? We don’t even look the same!”

“Sure we do. We have similar looking faces and hair styles and I’m sure without this barrette it would be more noticeable.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re making this up as you go!”

The two men stopped and faced each other, “Alright let’s make a deal. If there’s someway you can prove that we’re not blood-related, then I will admit defeat and say that I’m wrong. But if you find out that we are in fact related by blood, then you have to call me “Big Brother” from now on. Deal?”

“Fine,” he huffed, “But it could be a long time before you ever get an answer so don’t hold your breath!”

Norway laughed, “That’s alright. I have all the time in the world to wait.”