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Many Nations will say that one can only truly become a country when they have fought many battles for their land, whether won or lost.
Peter thought that was utter bollocks.
Of course, no one cared enough about his opinion to get offended, but somehow that made it even worse. Peter caught a glimpse of true hell, but older Nations assumed that what they themselves have gone through was far worse than what “the little boy in the sailor outfit” saw. Sometimes not even referring to Peter by name –not knowing he had one– and calling him somewhere along the lines of: “the wannabe country,” “Arthur’s long lost spawn,” (he wasn’t very lost by the way) and his least favorite of all, “unknowing dimwit.”
The last one doesn’t seem to have any value –more like a childish insult– but it impacts him because he knows hurt. He has felt it. He has lived it. It may not scale up to what other Nations have experienced, but he has been through experiences only the most disturbed of humans could comprehend.
Appearing during World War II was probably the last straw (and the first one, if Peter’s being honest) for his former caretaker –Arthur Kirkland, also known as the Representative of the United Kingdom and, more specifically: the Personification of England. Even though he didn’t become a country until after the War, having a small child of around seven, Peter thinks he was that age, would be difficult to care for while Arthur was suffering from the Blitz. He thinks that's why most of Arthur’s ire was directed at him instead of all the countries that had left his house after the War. Once the Reconstruction period in Europe was in full swing though, he mellowed out into a different type of parent.
Arthur constantly forgot about him, and Sealand as a whole, almost as much as everyone forgot, and forgets, about Matthew (“poor guy,” Peter thinks). So when Peter sold himself online, he wasn’t expecting Arthur to have such a strong reaction. He was expecting maybe a “good riddance,” or a “such a problematic child! No self preservation in that brain of yours. Now, be off with whoever had the misfortune to actually buy you.”
What he wasn’t expecting was Arthur yelling the loudest he had ever in Sealand’s fifty-nine-years of life (and Peter got into trouble often).
“What do you mean you sold yourself on eBay?!” Arthur shrieked.
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. I took a picture of myself, captioned it: “Twelve-year-old for sale, MicroNATION, is excellent at doing whatever.” And someone bought me.” Peter said in response, slightly put off by the unusual tone coming from the older Nation's voice.
“Bloody Hell! Do you even know who bought you?!”
A few moments of silence passed between the two, where Peter dared not breathe.
He very silently whispered. “...Sweden.”
“Speak up.” Arthur said curtly.
“Uhm, Sweden.” Peter said a bit louder.
Arthur looked momentarily startled before regaining his composure.
“Of all the bloody people on earth, Sweden?”
Peter looked a bit confused on why Arthur would be so concerned about who bought him. Sure, Sweden was a scary guy (or so he’s heard), but how bad could he possibly be?
“Yes, and he’s already sent for someone to fetch me! Best not make a bad impression with the driver…”
Arthur looked out the window, and low-and-behold, a slick black car (he couldn’t make out the brand from where he was standing) was waiting outside of his house.
“Uhh, when did that get there?” Arthur said quite smartly.
“Just now. Goodbye forever Arthur! Well, not forever… but for a long, long time!”
So Peter grabbed his –already packed– bags and headed outside, making sure to slam the door on his way out. While Arthur just stood near the entrance, his egregiously large eyebrows turned farther and farther down as Peter got less visible through the window.
All Peter heard while jumping into a car belonging to his new caretaker was a strained and useless, “you’ll come crawling back, I know you will.” from Arthur.
He just greeted the driver and they sped away, headed for the airport.
So, Peter is in Sweden now. He has changed cars about three times, and is currently with a nice old guy –he looks around sixty– who likes to play top hits from the 70s, exclusively on Spotify. He had to admit he was extremely nervous to meet Sweden, because what if all the rumours were true? What if Sweden was a scary man who was stone cold all the time and cared about Peter even less than Arthur did? He was starting to get antsy as the driver slowly drove nearer to the man’s house.
“Eh… Sir?” Peter called towards the driver.
“Yes, little one?” The driver answered.
“Do you know Mr. Sweden’s personality?”
The old man looked very confused before Peter mentally cursed himself. Most humans did not know about Nations. It was silly of Peter to not remember this. Screw him for not hanging out with anyone other than Wendy and Arthur. Terrible company they both are.
“Sorry, my thoughts were a bit mixed. It’s my first time in Sweden, and it was kind of occupying most of my mind. Do you know Mr. Oxenstiernia’s personality? I am quite curious.”
The driver just laughed and muttered something about “children, never thinking before they speak…” and answered his question.
“Well, it is quite hard to describe. He doesn’t have a temper, and is usually patient. At least, I think. He never verbalizes what he’s thinking, nor does he really show anything on his face. You have to become good at reading micro-signals, like a super small twitch of an eyebrow if he is displeased. Similar to that, a very small intake of breath to show that he is overjoyed. Don’t think any less of Mr. Oxenstiernia though, he is a tough guy, and –between you and me– I don’t think he ages.”
Peter was soaking up all the information that he was getting until he paused at the last part, opening his eyes a fraction. Did his slip up lead this guy on? He was almost too afraid to ask.
“What do you mean by that last part, Sir?”
“My comment on his appearance?”
“Yeah.”
“You’ll know when you see him, little one. I’ve been his driver for forty-two years, and he looks the same as when we first met. He either gets plastic surgery, has found the Fountain of Youth, or has the best cosmetics in the universe. It’s uncanny.”
Peter chuckled at the thought of Sweden getting plastic surgery, but abruptly stopped when he realized he had no idea what the older man looked like. Peter shifted his gaze back to the window and saw that he didn’t have to wait much longer. Their final destination was coming into view. Seeing it, he somehow felt even more anxious. It was dawning on him that this was real, and this guy literally bought bought him. Peter would prefer not to end up like Raivis, who had to serve Mr. Russia until his leaders were forced to intervene. Hopefully not.
Well, he was already here. Besides, the old man who worked for him didn’t show any hint of dislike for Sweden. They approached the driveway and a twinge of fear coursed through his body; but he was The Mighty Sealand, he could handle any country! At least, that’s what he told himself as the old man opened the car door for him and helped Peter out.
The walk to the front door was as nerve wracking as if he were on death row, waiting for his turn in the electric chair. He lumbered toward the front door, carefully placing one foot in front of the other as he walked. The old man noticed (he really has to learn his name, Peter thought) and gave him an encouraging smile, whispering something quiet in Swedish and turned toward the door. So this was it; no backing out now.
Peter slowly rang the doorbell and he could hear the shuffling of feet quickly approaching. He held his breath as a man with blond hair, black glasses, a dark blue coat, and the sharpest gaze he had ever seen opened the door. Peter shivered under the piercing gaze, feeling small under this man's ginormous stature.
The tall man looked towards the driver and his face untensed a fraction. “This ‘im?” He asked.
“Yes, Sir. This is Peter Kirkland, the Principality of Sealand.” The old man responded.
Peter did a double take at his Nation name being said by a human, but decided to keep his mouth shut as the terrifying man was still looming over them. He analyzed Peter and then stepped aside to let them both in.
"'m Sverige. O' Sweden, if yae pref'r." The tall man whispered, holding the door open for Peter.
Sweden looked around the house -searching for something- but eventually gave up in favor of showing Peter the living room. The old man had disappeared while Sweden was showing him around, and Peter wished he was gone as well. Sweden kept giving him looks which he supposed came close to smiles, but his mouth never really curved up.
Peter hadn’t realized he started to space out when he ran into Sweden’s back. The centuries-old man turned around, placed one of his too-big hands on Peter’s shoulder, and guided him to sit on the couch. He crouched down to be at eye-level with Peter and took a small breath.
“‘M waitin’ for m’ wife.”
That was news to Peter, he wasn’t expecting to get a Mum as well. Maybe she would be less scary than Sweden. Now that he thought about it…
“Is she a human or a Nation?” Peter inquired.
Sweden hesitated to answer, but after a few moments of silence, eventually spoke.
“Nat’in. Also no’ she. He.”
Peter perked up, so he was getting two dads? Why did Sweden call the other guy his wife? He was about to ask who this mystery Nation was, before the doorbell rang and Sweden hastily went to answer it.
An unfamiliar voice drifted into Peter’s ears. It sounded pleasing, talkative, relaxed, kind, Peter couldn’t think of anything negative. It was light and refreshing hearing a new voice talk so much, since Sweden didn’t use more than seven words a sentence, and the old driver only talked a few times in length. Peter startled because the next thing he heard was a very surprised yelp at the doorway.
“Berwald! Who’s kid is this?!” The voice pitched.
The other man had light hair, much like Peter’s own. He had brown eyes, and although he looked shocked right now, the smile creasing around his eyes was noticeable. He was shorter than Sweden by a few inches, but still had about a foot on Peter himself, and was holding a few shopping bags in his arms.
“Ours.” Sweden -Berwald apparently- calmly responded.
The other man looked at him strangely, as if remembering something from the long past. Peter felt he was an outsider for a moment, going to witness a relationship fight. But the man defied all his expectations by loudly sighing and whispered:
“You can’t just take children, Berwald. Is he at least one of us?”
Berwald nodded and said “Mic’nation.” The other man looked at Peter sympathetically. Typical Nations. Peter ignored the self-consciousness that surfaced as the man put his shopping down on a table. He turned towards Peter and leaned down until they were eye level.
“Hello, little one.” A red hue dusted his cheeks as he said the next bit, “Ignore that please. I was surprised… May I have your name? I’m Tino, or if you’re not comfortable using human names yet, call me Finland.”
“I’m Peter Kirkland.” He saw the warm, inviting smile on Tino’s face, his fear started to melt away. “I represent the greatest country in the world, Sealand!” Tino chuckled and nodded his head, pleased.
“Well Peter,” Tino tried the new name on his tongue, “Has Berwald shown you around the house yet?”
He nodded as Tino made his way to Peter’s side, and in an unexpected movement, hugged him against his chest. Peter flinched as he did so, but eventually returned the hug with a newfound realization. He had never been hugged before. Not by any of his siblings, and certainly not by Arthur. The thought brought him to tears which he desperately tried to rub away.
Tino assumed that the hug was a bit of an overstep –and that was why Peter was crying– so he carefully tried to let go. Peter quickly pulled him back into the hug, and Tino tried his very best to comfort him. When Peter finally pulled away, eyes red and blushing like crazy, he felt as though he made himself a fool. He looked up and saw Berwald and Tino smiling at him, the former a bit less so, and averted his gaze.
They stood like that for a while until Berwald started to lightly guide him to a bedroom. Tino followed after, with the same kind expression, and sat Peter down on the bed. They both decided to let him gather his thoughts for a moment, so they closed the door as they left. Peter had to strain to hear them on the other side.
“Once he goes to sleep, you will tell me what in the world you were thinking, adopting a kid without my knowledge... Second, he seems to be very overwhelmed.” Tino’s muffled voice said.
“Mhm.” Berwald responded.
“I guess that’s normal for little ones, this is a big change. I am glad he has taken a liking to me, especially after my -very valid- display of surprise, even if it was through a sad and desperate hug.”
“Me too.”
“Yeah, and… Thank you, as well.” Peter couldn’t catch the sound that came after, but he assumed it was a kiss. “I never thought your promise would come true, even if it is a few centuries later.” Peter was confused, what promise? He couldn’t dwell on it much further though, as they had finished up their conversation and started to make their way back to the bedroom. He scrambled back into bed as quietly as possible, almost knocking over a small flowerpot near the edge of the windowsill.
The doorknob turned, and Berwald’s face greeted him.
“Feelin’ any bet’r?”
Peter nodded and smiled, "Yeah, loads."
