Two distinctly separate shadows stretched down the sand of the Icelandic beach. The young man to whom the beach belonged sneezed. "God bless you," his brother said quietly.

"Thanks," Iceland sniffed. They sat watching the sun set on the northern Atlantic. Norway had come out to check on his brother and spend a day with him. Some hot soup could do wonders for people, but sadly it did little to solve the problems of nations. Iceland felt he should have seen it coming when his brother brought up the idea of a union to solve his problems. In a perfectly adult fashion, he'd stormed from the room, coughing like a madman, suggesting that if Norway was going to have those kinds of ulterior motives then he should just leave and not come back.

Iceland had spent the rest of the day in bed until hunger forced him back downstairs in the late afternoon. He'd expected the house to be empty and was surprised to find Norway sitting at his dining room table in the same seat Iceland had left him in hours ago. There was a warm bowl of soup sitting at the other end of the table. Iceland had crept over to it, embarrassed to have shouted at his brother only to come back to his generosity.

Norway hadn't said anything about it though. He just sat and watched his brother eat. The sun was flooding in through the windows giving everything in Iceland's house a golden glow. It was like Valhalla, Norway had thought for a fleeting second before shaking the idea away. Norway suggested that they go for a walk; the fresh air would do Iceland good.

So here them came to sit, watching the sun that had never really rose sink beneath the horizon. The only sound, apart from Iceland's occasional cough or sneeze, was the waves. A sound both of them were well acquainted with. A wind blew in their faces, and Iceland shuffled over the rock closer to Norway.

"What's your favorite part," Iceland asked weakly, "of a sunset?" Norway glanced over to his brother and saw the light reflecting in his determined eyes. They had the same intensity no matter what he was looking at.

"I suppose I like the clouds," Norway replied, looking up at the magenta shapes that glided through the pale lavender sky, "They always stand out to me." Iceland joined in turning his eyes up and nodded.

"I see."

"Why do you ask?" Norway murmured after a minute, "What's your favorite?"

"No real reason," Iceland muttered. His eyes were back on the horizon, scanning for something. "The only part of a sunset I like it when the sky is green."

Norway cocked an eyebrow and examined the colorful display, "The sky is green?" he echoed, trying to find it.

"Yeah," Iceland sighed, moving close to Norway so their eyes were on the same level. "Right there," he pointed to a very small portion of the sky, wedged between the gold of the sunlight and the blue of twilight; the sky was undoubtedly tinged green.

"Ah," Norway nodded once he saw it. Iceland leaned softly against him as they both watched that small patch of the heavens. "Why do you like it so much?" He asked, "It's such a small part."

"That's exactly why I like it," Iceland answered in a tone almost loving to the little misfit of the sunset. "It's so out of the ordinary, and if you don't watch close then you miss it altogether, but it's so unique." Norway nodded and wrapped a protective arm around his brother. Iceland rested his head on Norway's shoulder.

Norway sat and watched the green in the sky until it melted away, and he was left with a medley of blues and purples. It was cold. "Guess we should go," he murmured. Iceland didn't answer; Norway moved his shoulder a little and found his brother had fallen asleep. Allowing himself the smallest of smiles, he picked his brother and carried him home in the dark, sure that Iceland was dreaming of soup and green sunsets.