Let's rewrite an ending that fits


Iceland reflects on his four, for the lack of a better term, brothers often. He knows he probably shouldn't, but in his odd way of reasoning he decides that since no one else does, he must. After all, he knows each of his brothers is too amazing to be left un-thought of.
The one particular topic he sets his mind to the most is how each member of his little family managed to be the black sheep at the same time.

Denmark was never self-centered like the others. He genuinely cared about each of them, even though he went about showing it in his clumsy, controlling, Denmark way.

When it came to down it, Finland was the only who really wondered what life was like outside their union. His desire for freedom later would become so apparent that years later, Denmark would set his glass down and drunkenly wonder just who convinced who to flee.

Norway was the only one who understood Sweden. He was neither the rebellious younger brother that Denmark saw nor the simple soldier that Finland saw.
All he really wanted was to live a quiet, simple life free of adventure or excitement, but also free of war and suffering. Norway knew he gravitated towards Finland because to him, Finland seemed like the most peace-loving creature he could hope for.

Lastly (and probably leastly as well) Iceland was a black sheep because he wasn't sexually attracted to men at all. While Denmark enjoyed both genders, Finland wouldn't touch a woman in that way even if you threatened to lock him in a pitch black room with Ivan, and Norway and Sweden cared more about the person than what was between their legs, Iceland found himself fantasizing about the few beautiful women he managed to lay eyes upon during his time spent with his brothers.

Given how many times Denmark would show up at his door with prostitutes, he still regrets coming out as straight so early.


Another topic Iceland ponders is the way his four amazing brothers became four amazing pseudo-enemies.

There union had been fracturing in many ways beforehand. Iceland watched as the gulf between Denmark and Sweden became a canyon, watched as Finland sat back and tried to figure out which side was for him, and watched as Norway simply fought not to get swallowed up.

But the battle lines were really drawn that one typical-but-so-important summer night. Iceland had been so young, but as he peered out the window of his bedroom, old enough to realize that this was the beginning of the end.


Neither Sweden nor Denmark remember exactly what the fight was about- it was if anything a release.

By the time it was over, Finland didn't have a clue either- but that didn't stop him from smacking Denmark on his sweaty head when he and Norway arrived at the aftermath.

"For god's sake, it's like we're your parents! You just can't leave him alone for one second can you?!" he shouted, his words contrasting sharply with his hands, which were currently bandaging Denmark's arm.
"It wasn't like that.." Denmark started.
Finland cut him off."Then what was it like, then?"
Denmark growled. He was not in the mood." ...Fuck off."
"You..you.." Finland sputtered. "You try so hard to be better than him, but really there's no competition! He would never say that me."
Denmark face darkened and he cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't he a fuckin' saint? I wish I could be his bitch like you."
Finland's jaw dropped, along with the bandages he had been holding. His face reddened and tears welled up in his eyes.

"You're still such an idiot.."

Denmark watched Finland's retreating figure recede into the darkness, then turned his head upwards. He wasn't sure, but there must have been billions of stars lighting up the sky that night, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.
Rain would be nice right now, Denmark thought as the anger faded from his now solemn face.

He surveyed his remaining family (still family). Norway had paused from helping Sweden and was staring across the moon-lit field at Denmark, concerned etched in his look.

"Ah Norge, don't look at me like that." He managed a uncharacteristically quiet smile. " Why don't you take him inside?"

The axe-wielder watched Sweden's face closely as Norway helped him up, his blood mixing with the damp dirt beneath them.

Pissed off. Triumphant..is that a smirk? Dumbass. Denmark had a good mind to use his good arm to wipe it straight off his bespectacled face.

Instead he turned his back to the two men, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. When did it get to be so freezing?
He chuckled. Family. This is my family.


So that's how their story ended. Finland mistook Denmark's childish hatred of Sweden as being directed towards him too, and pushed any possibilities the two had to the back of his mind. Denmark mistook Norway's brotherly concern as genuine affection, and futilely started to wonder if he had been wrong all along. And Sweden mistook Finland Arguing With Denmark as Finland Defending Sweden, all the while not noticing that it was Norway who stopped his bleeding. A year later, when Finland would come to him in the night with an old map and a look of determination, he wouldn't hesitate one bit.

By the time they all realized their respective mistakes, Norway had already retreated into a place in his mind that even the most seasoned adventurer could not hope to reach, Finland and Sweden had already irrevocably invested everything they had in each other, and Denmark was so used to putting up a front that he didn't know what was real anymore.

And all Iceland could do was hope for a sequel.

There obviously would be no concept of 'straight' in medieval times, but o well. Idk why but I just can't imagine Iceland with Norway or any other guy. Maybe Spain, since the pairing would be called "Spiceland"

......annnnnnyyways, thanks for reading!:)