Long Road Ch 20
Mar. 26th, 2012 07:32 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lothinielflowermaidenAuthor's notes: I found a place to break up the chapter, so it's getting posted a little earlier than I planned. All warnings from previous chapters may still apply, including the new one added last chapter, for discussion of possible character death.
Chapter Twenty
Norway had barely eaten any of his breakfast—in fact, it was hard to tell from looking at the plate if he had eaten anything. He was sitting up in bed, so at least he still had enough strength for that—which meant that his condition hadn't gotten that bad yet. His mostly untouched breakfast was still on a tray by the bed. A spare pillow had been placed under his injured ankle the night before, as it needed to be kept elevated for the next few days, but at some point after being left alone he had removed that pillow. He seemed to be deep in thought about something, but he was alert enough to turn his head in the direction of the door when he heard someone approaching. A brief look of fear appeared in his eyes, but then disappeared again when he recognized his visitor. As soon as he had seen who had entered the room, he turned his gaze back to the wall.
"Are you feeling any better, Norja?" Finland asked, choosing not to comment on the uneaten breakfast for the time being, or on the fact that Norway seemed determined to either ignore or improperly treat his injury. Bringing up either of those things would not be the best way to start this conversation.
"A little," Norway answered. The visible bruises and pain that could be seen in his eyes contradicted those words, though. "I still don't feel like talking, though."
Finland sat down in the chair that had been pulled up to the side of the bed. "Norja, you need to talk about this. You can't keep doing this to yourself."
Norway did not reply, or give any sign of what he might be thinking.
"Do you realize what you're doing to yourself?"
Once again, Norway did not reply.
"You could have been seriously injured yesterday morning—you could even have been killed. None of us want to see you get killed. We all care too much about you to just stand by and let you keep doing this."
"You keep saying that you care, but you still told them something I didn't want them to know." Although, he had finally replied, Norway kept his gaze focused on the far wall.
"I thought they should know that you might be in danger. None of us want to take the chance of losing you. And we're not going to just stand by and watch you keep doing this to yourself."
"I could leave again. Then you wouldn't have to see." Norway still kept his gaze averted as he spoke.
"Norja, that wasn't what I meant. We just want you to stop doing this to yourself." As relieved as he was to at least be getting some response, Finland could tell that it was going to be very difficult to get through to Norway. It might be even more difficult than when he had convinced Norway to come home. "We just want to help you."
"I don't need help." Norway still kept his gaze focused on the far wall, and his voice was devoid of any signs of emotion—even more so than usual.
"You're going to end up killing yourself if you keep doing this. Do you realize that?"
Once again, Norway did not respond or give any sign that he had heard.
"Norja, please. You need to stop doing this before it's too late." Finland tried not to think about how little time might be left before it was too late.
For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Norway turned to look at him. No sign of any emotion could be seen on his face. Even his eyes were completely devoid of emotion. He still did not say anything.
Finland had no idea how to get Norway to actually respond to him this time. This really was the most difficult conversation they'd had since that first one, but the other times they had spoken, Norway had actually been willing to talk. This time it was obvious that he did not want to talk about what was bothering him, and it seemed that nothing anyone could do would make him change his mind about that.
And it was so difficult to just sit there, and watch Norway going through all this, and not being able to do anything. It was as if there was this chasm in front of them, that the rest of the family was aware of, but that Norway could not see for some reason. But, despite not being able to see that chasm, he was right at the edge of it, and another couple steps could send him right over the edge, and he would be lost. But, the others were powerless to help Norway unless he would admit that the danger was there. And getting him to see that was beginning to seem impossible.
"Norja, what happened yesterday morning?" Finland asked, after a few moments had passed in silence. He hoped that the direct question might force Norway to at least answer that much.
For a little while, it seemed like Norway wasn't going to answer. He had turned away again, and did not speak for a few moments. At last, he said, "I tried to go into my room."
"Did something frighten you?" That was one of the more likely explanations for what had happened after all, especially given the fact that Norway had clearly been afraid of something upstairs.
Norway still kept his gaze focused on the far wall, and did not answer.
"Norja, it's understandable if something did frighten you. We all know what happened to you, and none of us are going to think less of you if were frightened by something."
"I think less of myself," Norway said, barely loud enough to be heard. "I'm supposed to be able to take care of myself—I need to be able to take care of myself. And I ran away from something—someone—that wasn't even there. But, I was so sure that he was there . . . I kept expecting him to show up at any second. I wasn't thinking about anything except getting away."
That was what the rest of the family had suspected had happened the previous morning, although they hadn't been sure. And given what they know about the dreams, and the possible danger, they had been half afraid that Scandia really had been there. It was somewhat of a relief to learn that that at least was not the case, but that didn't change the fact that Scandia was at least indirectly the cause of Norway's accident. But there were still unanswered questions, such as why Norway had gone upstairs in the first place, after refusing to do so for so long. "Is that why you didn't want to come upstairs before? You were worried that your father might be here?"
Norway kept his gaze fixed on the far wall, and when he spoke, he seemed to be completely detached from what he was saying. "He was waiting at the top of the stairs. I waited as long as I could to come up—I'd hoped he would go to bed, and I would be able to slip into my room without him doing anything. But, he was waiting for me. I couldn't get away from him, and I couldn't call for help. He said that if I did, he would tell everything how much of a freak of nature I was. When he knew that I wasn't going to try to get away, he suggested that we continue someplace more private. I didn't want to let him into my room, but when I hesitated he . . . he threatened Island. I . . . I couldn't let my child go through that, so I let far1 into my room—that night, and all the nights of his visit." As Norway had been talking, his voice had grown less detached, especially when he mentioned that Scandia had actually threatened Iceland.
This was the first time that Norway had spoken about an actual incident in any of the conversations. He had mentioned things that Scandia had said to him, but he had never really said more than that. And telling even what little he had of an incident had clearly been difficult for him, even with the level of detachment that he had maintained while he was speaking. He had grown paler than he had been before he started recounting the incident, and although he attempted to continue to appear emotionless, a haunted look could be seen deep in his eyes, when he finally turned his gaze away from the wall. "I let him into my room," he said. "I didn't even try to stop him. After all this time, I should have been able to stop him."
"You were doing what you thought was necessary to protect your child. That's not something you need to be ashamed of." Finland wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say to Norway, but he knew that he didn't want Norway to keep feeling ashamed for not having been able to stop Scandia.
"But it wasn't enough. He still found out everything that I tried so hard to keep him from learning. I didn't want him to ever learn about the circumstances of his birth, to know that his father wanted him to be killed before even had a chance at life. I wanted to protect him from the knowledge. And now that he knows, I've lost him. He's so ashamed of the truth that he doesn't want to be in the same room I'm in anymore."
While it was a relief that Norway was talking—and actually volunteering information about something that was bothering him—it seemed like he was trying to divert the conversation away from the chain of events that had led to his accident. But what he had said still needed to be addressed.
"Norja, I don't think you've lost him. He's worried that he reminds you of what Scandia did, and he's trying to make things easier for you." Finland wasn't sure if it was a good idea to tell Norway more than that about what was going on with Iceland. Considering that Norway had apparently spent most of his life being told that he should never have been born, it would hurt him to know that Iceland might have been thinking something similar. But, on the other hand, if nothing was said, it was never going to be addressed, since neither of them seemed capable of talking to the other lately.
"That's one of the reasons I didn't want him to find out," Norway said, after a few moments. "I didn't want him to think that. I'd hoped the letter would be enough to keep him from thinking that."
"He might need to actually hear that from you, rather than just reading it in a letter."
"I don't know if I can talk to him about this," Norway admitted. "There's so much of what happened, that I can't talk about. There are parts of it that . . ." He trailed off in mid-sentence, apparently not wanting to say whatever he had started to. "It's difficult enough to talk to you about any of this—I don't think I can say anything to any of the others."
"Have you ever talked about it before?" Outside of their previous conversations, that was. Finland was still hoping that Norway hadn't really gone through all of this on his own for so many years—that in some point in the past he had talked to someone about it.
"There wasn't anyone I could talk to when it was happening. And after he left, I wanted to believe it was over—except for the dreams. Those never really stopped. But I never believed he would come back for real. I never wanted anyone to find out that I was so weak."
"What your father did to you doesn't make you weak."
Of course, by the standards of the time when it had happened, that was exactly what it would have meant. But that wasn't the way anyone else in the family saw it now, and none of them thought less of Norway because of what had happened. It was getting Norway to believe that that was the problem.
Norway turned his attention back to looking at the wall, and did not say anything further. So, although, he had talked a little bit, in the end nothing had really come out of the conversation, and a solution was no closer than it had been.
The next few days went the same as that first one had. Norway continued to refuse to talk to the rest of the family. And, no matter how hard they tried, they were no closer to finding out about the chain of events that had led to his accident—they had no idea why he had gone upstairs when he continued to occasionally seem uncomfortable up there, and they had no idea exactly what may have caused him to fall. They suspected that he was hiding something related to those events, but they had no idea what that something could be.
They continued to keep as close an eye on him as they could, even going so far as to take turns watching over him throughout the night. None of them wanted to risk another accident, and ever since they had all learned about the fact that some danger may still exist, they had been worried that Scandia might find a way to harm Norway again. Secretly, they were worried that Scandia might have somehow been behind Norway's accident, but that seemed too unlikely to really take seriously as a possibility.
In addition to their concern over exactly how the accident had occurred, the rest of the family was concerned by the extent to which Norway seemed to be pulling away from them. It was more than just his refusal to talk about what was bothering him—he had also starting refusing to join them at the table for meals. And they were pretty sure that he still wasn't eating, as the trays that were brought to him were always returned mostly full. For the first few days, they had overlooked this refusal, believing that it was only because Norway was in too much pain from the injuries he had received. However, as the days passed, his injuries healed, and he still rarely left the room he was staying in.
The rest of the family was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that they were losing Norway, and that there might really be nothing they could do to save him, and still they hoped desperately for a miracle—knowing that a miracle might be the only chance Norway had.
What made the rest of the family really worried was the fact that Norway seemed to be getting weaker. Although his injuries were healing, it was happening at a slower rate than was normal. He rarely got out of bed anymore, and seemed to spend a lot of time sleeping. And he was still refusing to eat.
With every day that passed, they were becoming increasingly afraid that they might not be able to save Norway—that they really might lose him. Even the two members of the family who did not know how little time might be left were now becoming aware of that fact. But they were all still determined to find a way to save Norway.
Iceland had changed his mind about going back to his own home—too afraid that if he left he might never see Norway again. Not that he was seeing much of him as it was, since he was still avoiding Norway as much as possible. The two of them had not even been in the same room since the day of the accident, and Iceland did not take part in the vigil that the older members of the family were keeping over Norway.
However, despite having changed his mind about going home, and Iceland remained determined not to celebrate his birthday. The rest of the family had given up trying to get him to change his mind; they knew that one who had the best chance of doing so was currently not talking to anyone. However, no one thought that the decision not to celebrate had been the best one; there was just nothing that could be done about it. And they were a little worried about the reason that might lay behind that decision.
By the time the morning of the 17th actually arrived though, a compromise had been reached regarding Iceland's birthday. Although there wasn't going to be any big celebration, they at least were going to be doing something at dinner.
And they were hoping to convince Norway to actually come downstairs for dinner—although at this point they would be happy if they could just get him to eat something.
Norway basically ignored the breakfast tray once it had been brought up and left on the bedside table. And, like the last several mornings, he didn't bother to get up. Whenever he had to get up for any reason lately, he was having bouts of lightheadedness that were getting more frequent. Adding to that the fact that he still couldn't put much weight on his ankle, it was just too effort to get out of bed unless he really needed to.
He knew that eating something might make him feel less lightheaded at least, but he just couldn't bring himself to eat anything. Sometimes even just the thought of trying to force down more than a few bites made him feel sick. But, he was sure he still had time before the problem became something he couldn't handle. And, it was just one more thing that he didn't want to talk about.
Between his increasing weakness, and the fact that he was trying to avoid conversation, Norway spent most of the time either sleeping or pretending to be asleep. The only bit of information that he had volunteered had been so that he could avoid having to reveal that there were gaps in his memory of some recent events. He still could not remember going upstairs that night before the accident, just like he couldn't remember what had happened back in January that had led to his family being sent away.
Norway had almost fallen asleep again, (after not having eaten any of his breakfast) when he heard the sound of the door opening. And he knew that the few moments he was allowed to be alone for each day were over, or would be over once the untouched tray had been taken downstairs. He did not even bother to open his eyes to see who had entered the room. He knew whoever it was would take the tray downstairs, and that someone would be up to watch over him. And, he hoped that by pretending to be asleep, he could avoid receiving a lecture about the fact that he hadn't eaten.
His ruse apparently worked, as he was left alone again, at least for the time being.
"Norja didn't eat anything again this morning," Finland said, as he brought the full tray back into the kitchen. "I don't think he's eaten anything for a few days, at least. I really don't know what to do for him anymore." He wouldn't have added that last sentence if Denmark or Iceland had been in the kitchen, as he still didn't want them to know how little time might be left. But he had talked about this with Sweden, and they were both aware of the gravity of the situation.
"W' still have some time, w'll f'nd some way t' save him. Norge's survived t' much t' let himself die like th's."
It was true that Norway had survived a lot—and that wasn't even taking into consideration the things that Scandia had done to him. He had lost at least two thirds of his population to the plague, and then gone through several years of not being strong enough to be on his own. Then, after only a few decades of independence he had been occupied during the War. No one in the family knew exactly what had happened to him during that time, but they suspected by some of the few things Norway had said about that time that something bad had happened. And, they did know some of what had happened to his people during that time—they just did not know what, if anything, had happened to him personally.
However, none of the family was really convinced that the fact that Norway had managed to survive all those things meant he would be alright now. It was the only hopeful thought they had, though, as they continued to have to watch Norway's condition deteriorate. But at the same time, it was something that made it harder to keep hoping, because they were afraid that Norway may have lost whatever strength had gotten him through all those things—they were really afraid that he might not even care if he survived anymore.
"I think we may need to consider taking him back to the hospital. If nothing else, the doctors would be able to force him to eat." They couldn't really do that unless there was serious danger, though. And by then, it might be too late. "Where is everyone else?" Finland asked, as the rest of the family had all still been in the kitchen when he'd gone up to get the tray.
"Sealand's out in th' yard," Sweden answered. "And Danmark 'nd Island are probably in th' living room." The living room was the room that was the closest to stairs, and therefore the best place for being able to hear sounds from upstairs.
"I'm surprised Tanska hasn't already gone upstairs. I don't think he'd leave Norja's side at all, if we hadn't all agreed to take shifts."
As difficult as it was for the whole family to watch Norway's condition continue to deteriorate with each day that passed, they knew that it was hardest for Denmark and Iceland, as those two were the closest to Norway. But they had very different approaches to the situation; Denmark spent as much time with Norway as possible, sometimes even staying in the room when it was technically someone else's shift, while Iceland continued to avoid even going into the room. But, despite the continuing avoidance, the other members of the family had noticed that Iceland still managed to check on his brother—he just tried to keep anyone else (especially Norway) from noticing that he did so.
"Are y' still going t' try t' get Norge t' come downstairs later?"
"If he's feeling well enough. I think he needs to, considering that today is his child's birthday. They still need to actually talk to each other, too."
By this point, the avoidance had gone on for long enough, that the rest of the family was becoming increasingly tempted to just lock Norway and Iceland in a room together, until they actually talked to each other. Whatever was going on with them was really not helping the situation, and may in fact be making things worse.
Plus, based on the way things had been going lately, the crisis that they were dreading might not be that far off, and if that turned out to be the case, then having that situation resolved might help make things easier.
Through the kitchen window, Sweden and Finland could see their son out in the yard, playing with the dog. The boy seemed to be the only family member unaffected by the shadow that hung over the rest of the household.
For a few moments, they stood by the window, watching their son out in the yard. They both knew there was one other thing they needed to do, before the crisis actually came.
"I think it's time we considered sending Sealand to stay with someone else for the rest of the summer," Finland said eventually. It was something they had both thought about, but had not yet actually spoken about. "We're all so focused on Norja right now, and if the situation gets worse, it's going to take even more of our attention. And depending on what happens, it may be something that a child shouldn't witness. The way things are going right now, Norja might not have much time left . . ." He would later regret that last statement.
The rest of the conversation was taken up with a discussion of where the best place would be to send their son to spend the rest of the summer.
They did not know that any part of their conversation had been overheard.
Norway was still asleep the next time that Finland went up to check on him. That wasn't too surprising, as Norway had been sleeping a lot since the accident. It was worrying though, as it made it clear that Norway's condition was worsening—that he was getting weaker.
It was also no surprise that Denmark had come upstairs, and was sitting in the chair by the bed. He was holding Norway's hand tightly.
"Has he been awake at all?"
"No."
"Well, the rest is good for him, but we'll need to wake him up in a few hours to try to get him to eat something." Although, if recent events were anything to go by it was unlikely that Norway would actually eat anything.
"He's getting worse again, isn't he?"
"I'm not sure. But, he will get worse if he doesn't start eating." That fact was no secret—the secret was how little time might be left before that would happen.
They both looked at Norway. It was obvious that he wasn't in the best condition. He was so pale and thin—and knowing the truth about his condition made it easy to see that he might actually be dying. Even without that knowledge though, it was still easy to see just how bad his condition was getting.
Denmark tightened his grip on Norway's hand, as if by doing so he could keep Norway there—keep him alive.
Norway was sleeping so deeply that he did not even seem aware of the pressure on his hand. That was also becoming common though, whenever his sleep was not bothered by nightmares it was very difficult to wake him up. On the other hand, though, if he was getting rest without nightmares that was a good thing—it might allow him to conserve what little strength he had left. It might be enough to buy some time before it was too late.
Although, it was becoming increasingly uncertain whether they had any chance of saving Norway, or whether they would really lose him to the aftermath of what Scandia had done.
The rest of that morning, and the most of the afternoon went about the same way that the previous several days had. The rest of the family had taken turns checking on Norway, making sure that he was alright, and that he didn't need anything. (And, although none of them wanted to admit it, reassuring themselves that he was still with them—that they hadn't lost him yet.) Norway had apparently slept for most of the morning, until they had managed to wake him up at lunchtime to try to get him to eat. He still left most of the food uneaten, although this time he did at least manage to eat a few bites.
The subject of whether or not Norway should come downstairs for dinner that day had not been brought up again. Although, the rest of the family agreed that he should, none of them really thought he was well enough. They could all see that his condition was deteriorating—even when they did not want to see it. And none of them were willing to risk doing anything that might use up what little strength he seemed to have left.
It wasn't until shortly before dinner that the subject was brought up, and then only because it seemed that it needed to be.
Norway had been left alone for a few moments, while the rest of the family discussed whether it was a good idea to try to get him to come downstairs. Of course, he had no way of knowing that was what they were discussing—in fact, he actually suspected that they were trying to come up with another way of trying to get him to talk to them about what was bothering him. So, he was not surprised when Finland came into his room around midafternoon.
"Norja, do you feel well enough to come downstairs for dinner later?"
Norway did not answer immediately. He was feeling a little stronger after having slept all morning, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for that—he didn't know if he was ready to be around the whole family. Plus, he knew the reason he was being asked to come downstairs was because it was Iceland's birthday, and he wasn't sure if Iceland wanted him there. He already knew that he was the reason Iceland hadn't wanted to celebrate his birthday. "I'm not sure," he said, after a few moments.
"I don't want to force you into something you're not ready for, Norja," Finland said. "But it might be good for you to join us, and I think it would be good for Islanti as well. He needs to know that you don't hold the circumstance of his conception against him."
This wasn't the first time this topic had been brought up, and Norway was aware that he needed to talk to Iceland. However, knowing that didn't make it easier to do so—he just found it too difficult to talk about all of this. He had been so young when Iceland was born, and he had been all alone, except for some of the Fae. That meant no one knew what had really happened, and so Norway had told everyone that he had found Iceland. As the years went by, he often wished that the lie he had told everyone was the truth. But he had never blamed Iceland for any of it, and he had tried to show that in the letter. He wasn't sure what else he could say, besides what was in the letter. And talking about anything that had happened was too painful.
There was more to it than just his inability to talk about any of this, though. Norway was unsure how Iceland felt about their true relationship. He knew Iceland was avoiding him, but he was not sure why. The only reason Norway could think of what was that Iceland was rejecting their true relationship—rejecting him. He remembered how Iceland had not even wanted to acknowledge that they were brothers—at least not until after their true relationship had been revealed.
"I'm not sure if Island would want me there," Norway admitted at last. "I don't want to ruin his birthday, if he has decided to celebrate it after all."
"Norja, the reason he didn't want to celebrate it is because he's afraid that his birth is a painful memory for you. He is afraid of being a reminder of what happened to you."
That was a reason that Norway hadn't thought of for why Iceland was avoiding him. However, he wasn't sure if he really believed that reason. The constant memories of the things Scandia had said to him—not to mention having been betrayed by one of his own people—had really shaken his confidence and made it hard for Norway to believe that anyone might really care about him. Even when he knew that his family cared about him there was still a persistent doubt, and the way Iceland kept avoiding him was feeding that doubt.
But then he remembered something that had happened at the beginning of April. It was after he had had that break down in the park. He remembered that his family had all stayed by him during that, and he remembered that when he had first become aware again after that, that Iceland had been beside him, and had actually been holding his hand.
With the emotional wringer that day had put him through, Norway had not really thought of that until now. Now that he had remembered he began to wonder if there had been other times that he had not been aware of. But for the first time since January, Norway began to think that maybe Iceland wasn't rejecting him, and he realized that he had to bridge the distance between them before it was too late.
That realization gave him the strength to say, "I think I can come downstairs."
The whole family was relieved that Norway had actually agreed to join them. He had needed to actually be carried downstairs, as he was still not fully recovered from his injuries—although none of them had wanted to take a chance with the stairs anyway. And they knew he wouldn't be able to stay up for long, due to his deteriorating condition.
Norway did seem to have actually made an effort to eat something at dinner, although he still left the majority of his food uneaten. And, he barely said anything during the meal, but that was at least somewhat normal.
They were all disturbed to see just how much weaker he had gotten in the last few days. He had lost more weight since the accident, and was back to the condition he had been in when he had been found back in December—before he'd had a couple of days to recover. And by the time dinner was over, it was clear that he was reaching the end of what energy he had, even after having done nothing more strenuous than sitting at the dinner table with the rest of the family.
But Norway had refused to let them take him back upstairs right after dinner. Although they were worried that he might push himself beyond what he had the strength for, they gave in and helped him to the living room instead. At least he could rest a little bit there, and it might be a good sign that he wasn't isolating himself in the spare room upstairs anymore.
That evening was the first time that Iceland had really seen the condition his brother was in. He had overhead enough conversations between some of the other members of the family to know that Norway's condition was worsening, but he hadn't been prepared for just how bad it was—not even after what he had overheard that morning. However, he was trying to forget about what had overheard, at least for the time being.
In the end, Iceland was glad that he had changed his mind about his decision to not celebrate his birthday, since that had apparently been what it took to get Norway to actually join the rest of the family again. However, the two of them had yet to actually speak to each other, so Iceland was surprised when Norway asked to talk to him after dinner.
They were left alone together in the living room, but several moments passed in silence, as neither seemed to know how to begin this conversation. And the last conversation they'd had hadn't exactly gone that well. The silence felt almost like a third presence in the room, and the distance between them still seemed impossible to bridge. But they were actually in the same room at least.
Norway was the first to break the silence. "Island, there's something we need to talk about." Despite having said they needed to talk, Norway did not seem able to say anything more, and the silence fell again. For several moments, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall, but eventually Norway seemed to once again find the resolve to speak. "It was around this time that you were born." His gaze was focused on the clock.
Whatever Iceland had been expecting his brother to say, that wasn't it. He had suspected this conversation had something to do with the circumstances of his birth, but he expected it to be about more than the time. He realized though that this might be difficult for Norway to talk about, and so he kept silent and waited to see if his brother would continue speaking.
"I wasn't able to get you anything for your birthday this year," Norway continued after a few moments of silence. "But I think there is one thing I can give you, and I should have realized sooner that you needed this."
"I don't need anything from you." It was enough for him that Norway had made the effort to come downstairs. And the only thing he really wanted was for Norway to be alright—he didn't want his brother to die. He did not think about how his brother might interpret those words.
Norway was still not looking directly at his brother, but he had turned enough in that direction for it to be noticeable the way he flinched at those words. "I didn't want you to find out the truth—I wanted to protect you from knowing this." For the first time in the conversation, Norway looked directly at Iceland. "But since you did find out, there is one thing you need to know. I don't regret that you were born, and I don't blame you for what . . . for what our father did." That last part had clearly been difficult for him to say, and turning his gaze from his brother, he looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry to have left you with an origin you're ashamed of." That last sentence was barely above a whisper.
It was then that Iceland realized that Norway might have misinterpreted what he said—that there was another way that sentence could have been taken. "Noregur, I'm not ashamed of you." I just don't want to lose you, was what he wanted to say, but he could not bring himself to speak that sentence. He was afraid that saying it out loud would make what he was afraid of happen.
And he could see that Norway was withdrawing again, and the distance between them did not seem to be any less. Although Iceland was glad to know that Norway did not see him as a painful reminder, he was still afraid that Norway wouldn't survive. And he had no idea of how to save the one person who meant so much to him.
What could he do, when everything he said to his brother just seemed to make things worse
Author's notes:
In case it wasn't clear in this chapter, Iceland overheard the conversation between Sweden and Finland, and he heard Finland say that Norway might not have much time left.
I'm not sure I'm really happy with the way this chapter turned out, but it has some things that needed to happen in it, including a partial resolution to the misunderstanding.
Also, I feel I should give an explanation for why Norway doesn't seem to believe his family cares about him, even when they keep trying to make him see otherwise. The whole time he was growing up, his father was telling him that he was only good for one thing or that he never should have been born. And then in this story, Birger comes alone and tries to keep him away from his family's influence by telling him that his family didn't care about him (and cutting off all communication.) So, although Norway wants to believe his family cares about him, he's been told otherwise too many times, and he doesn't know who to believe anymore.
The next chapter will be out sometime in April. And, chapter twenty-one will answer the question of whether or not Scandia is still a threat.
Also, I want to thank of quills on parchment for reviewing the last chapter, and let you know that you're on the right track as to who really caused the mother's death, but not what the circumstances were The full story behind that will be revealed in chapter twenty-two probably.
Translation:
1 Father
