The Last Continent
Title: The Last Continent
Originally posted: Here, for wizzard890 as part of her reverse request post. Also, entirely coincidentally: happy birthday, Wizard! ♥ (And thank you erueru_2d for the translations and for answering all of my random questions. You're such a gem.)
Length: 2400 words.
Characters/Pairings: Antarctica OC; also England, Norway, America, Russia, France, and a slew of brief appearances from others.
Premise: Check it out, you guys! Antarctica!
Time period: 1908-2004.
Smuttiness: 0/10
Funnyness: 4/10
Wrist slashiness: 3/10
Lolhistoryness: 7/10
Violence: 0/10
Would I like it?: It's about an OC (possibly bad) and it has penguins in it (obviously good). It's up to you how you balance those things against each other.
---
1908
A lone figure descended the gangplank and stepped out onto the soundless white expanse of ice.
He said, "Jesus Christ fucking bloody hell it's cold here."
And then, a moment later, his hands braced on his hips, "Right, then. This bit's mine."
A small child who had almost blended into the snow tugged on his pant leg. "Um."
England jumped. He took a step back and peered over the high collar of his parka, down at a little white upturned face.
"Who are you?" he demanded after a few seconds.
The boy looked perplexed by the question. A frigid wind blew through them, and the boy didn't even flinch.
"Ah," England supplied. "Of course. Well. In that case, I suppose nobody would have told you, would they. You're Antarctica, my boy."
Antarctica shifted his feet in the snow. It covered him almost to his hips.
England patted his downy white hair in a vaguely paternal fashion. "Now, don't fret. I've done this plenty of times. You're a country, all right? Or--I suppose you might become one, in the fullness of time. And I'm England. I'm an empire."
England paused, apparently waiting for a response, and so Antarctica thought about it for a little while. He ventured, "Okay."
England kept waiting. Antarctica thought some more. "Um," he offered. Fidgeted. His hair dropped into his eyes. "I'm looking for my penguins."
England frowned. "Penguins?"
Antarctica nodded. "They're supposed to be here this time of year."
A little silence.
"But they're not," he added.
England stuffed his hands into his pockets and squinted out towards the pale blue horizon. "Er. Yes. Indeed."
Antarctica bit his little lip and gazed at the ground in an unfocused way. "Have you seen them?" he tried.
"No. That is--no, I haven't seen any penguins. Listen. I'm an empire, and that means I go about deciding that other countries belong to me. And I've decided that this is mine." He made a circular twirling gesture with one finger to indicate the surrounding wasteland.
Antarctica stared up at him blankly for a few seconds, and then his eyes widened, and he looked around England's knee at the waiting ship with an expression of dismay. "I-I don't want to go on the boat!"
"What?" England glanced over his shoulder at it. "Oh, don't be daft, boy, I'm not claiming all of you. Who needs that much ice? No," he asserted. "I just want this bit."
Antarctica cast about, his hands grabbing at something in the air that England couldn't see, and protested, "But my penguins come here!"
"Excellent," England replied. "Are they any good for eating, do you know?"
Antarctica stared up at him with enormous gray eyes for five seconds, and then he burst into tears.
"Oh, don't--sodding hell…don't cry, that's hardly necessary--"
"I don't like you!" Antarctica cried, and sat down hard in the snow.
England rubbed his forehead with the back of a gloved hand, and sighed to himself, "I'm so bloody sick of children."
---
1913
"Antarctica?" Norway stuck his head out the door and adjusted his cap. "Would you come inside for a moment?"
Antarctica looked up form welding sticks together with clumps of mud in the street of Grytviken, and clambered to his feet. He hopped up the stairs to the small log house and took Norway's hand.
Norway gave him an encouraging smile. "It's a very big day for the Jacobsen family." He led the little nation through the main room, past the fireplace. "And for you. I thought you might want to see."
Norway opened the bedroom door. Antarctica's eyes widened. He screamed.
There was an explosion of Norwegian from all the adults in the room, and Norway tugged on Antarctica's shoulder while Antarctica flattened his back against the wall.
"What is it?" he cried. "It's--it's--it's screaming!"
"Please, it's all right--" Norway threw a desperate look around the room. "I'm so sorry, everyone--"
"What's gotten into the boy?" the doctor demanded, half out of his chair.
"It's deformed!" Antarctica wailed.
"Antarctica--" Norway hushed.
"What is it!" The pallid, malformed little thing was squalling in the bedridden woman's arms.
"It's a baby," Norway urged.
Antarctica looked in a panic from the crying infant, to Norway, and back. "Wh-what?"
Norway exhaled and threw an apologetic grimace to the wide-eyed mother. He knelt in front of Antarctica and put his hands on the boy's slim shoulders. "A baby," he repeated softly. "A little girl. The Jacobsens' just had a little girl. Her name is Solveg."
Antarctica's heart rate gradually evened out. He wet his lips and stammered, "I-it's a person?"
"It's a little girl. A healthy little girl." Norway smiled a bit. "She's probably the first person ever born on your land. Isn't she?"
Antarctica nodded fervently. After another second, he peeled himself off the wall.
"She's not a very big person," he said doubtfully.
Norway exhaled on a laugh. "Maybe not, but she'll get bigger. Just like you."
---
1959
"Listen up, comrade, if you think for one second I'm gonna make any concessions to you, you've got another thing coming--"
"Typical belligerent posturing from a fat, stupid, whoring capitalist bastard--my requests are very reasonable--"
"Who are you calling fat?!"
"I don't know why everyone is fighting," Antarctica fretted. He huddled over a desk in the middle of the room, a book tucked against his chest, while sixteen angry nations shouted over his head.
"Nobody recognizes your claim," Argentina snarled, and stabbed his finger into Chile's chest.
Chile smacked his hand aside. "Nobody recognizes yours either, you stupid fuck, not since you dropped it right over mine--"
"And mine," England cut in. "Which, I must say--"
"I-I mean it's not like I really have anything useful." Antarctica tugged his feet up onto the chair with him, and nudged up his enormous, round glasses.
"You're the plus size, here, asshole--"
"Esli b vokrug ne bylo svideteley, klyanus' ya by nachistil tebe mordu--"
"Speak in a real fuckin' language!"
"I guess there's a bit of oil and things," Antarctica writhed, "But it's all trapped under the, um, the ice."
"I should have known you would be unable to put aside your pride for the sake of science." Russia leaned over the table, while South Africa and Belgium tried to hold him back.
"I don't see what a crate full of Dragunovs has to do with science--" America strained against New Zealand and Japan.
"Y-you know, like everything else," Antarctica concluded miserably.
"Would you all shut up!" France snapped.
"He wants to bring guns to the South Pole!" America jerked his chin at Russia.
"I would only use them to shoot your incompetent spies." Russia shook off his captors and glared.
"Well, I've got a bit of a problem with that! --And my spies are not incompetent! --Not that I'm spying!"
A brief, discomfited silence followed that assertion. Russia smirked. Antarctica blinked like a startled owl as he thought of something, and piped up brightly, "Although I do have over seven hundred species of extremophile phytoplankton!"
America blinked, squinted, refocused, furrowed his eyebrows, then looked at Antarctica and managed, "What?"
"And about fifty different kinds of bryophytes," he chirped.
"…What?"
"The only company he has is that of our scientists," France sighed. "Would everyone please be quiet? You are embarrassing yourselves. It is not even as if any of this territory is strategically important."
Antarctica looked crestfallen, until Norway rest a hand on his small shoulder and whispered, "That's a good thing for you."
"I am sure we can come up with some civilized arrangement." France stroked a lock of hair over his shoulder.
America had by that point collected himself. He jerked his thumb at Russia, who looked prepared to bite it off. "I'll make a civilized arrangement out of his face if he tries to give his scientists sniper rifles."
"I would give anything for you to try it," Russia murmured.
"Hey, any time, any place, pal--"
"Kogda ty budesh moim, ya s udovolstviem i navsegda vyshibu etu ulybku s tvoego litsa."
"Oh, you smartass son of a bitch--" America lunged for him.
France leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. Antarctica opened his book. He was fourteen chapters into Carbon Cycle in the Arctic Seas. He pushed up his glasses again.
---
1982
Antarctica saw England advancing across the ice, and panicked.
"You can't have them!" he leapt to his feet, dove for the nearest baby penguin--they stood in the thick of thousands of them--and threw his arms around it. The penguin squeaked, spun, and they both toppled over.
England ran forward and tried to pull the boy up, only to be fought off with flailing legs and flippers.
"Go away!' Antarctica kicked.
"Antarctica--Antarctica, do calm down--" England got hold of Antarctica's arm and yanked him half upright. Antarctica clung to the baby penguin with his other arm so tightly that he had a mouth and face full of fluff.
"They're my penguins!" he shouted.
"Relax, would you--"
"Leave them alone!"
"No one's going to touch your bloody penguins, calm down!" England snapped. He gave up untangling the young nation from the excited bird, and let Antarctica curl up around his new friend. "That's what I've come to tell you, in fact."
Antarctica scowled at him, those wintry eyes full of suspicion.
England blew out a breath. "The chaps and I all got together," he explained, "And we agreed to designate your penguins a protected species. Along with all your other wildlife. So stop carrying on."
Antarctica was still for a few seconds. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then cautiously sat up. The penguin rolled onto its stomach and puffed out with a little trill. "You mean it?" he asked, guarded.
"I'm entirely in earnest," England confirmed. He blinked when Antarctica lunged up and hugged his knee ecstatically.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
England shook his leg gingerly to dislodge him. Antarctica took a step back and beamed. "Yes, well," England mustered. He examined the penguin. The penguin waggled its flippers and canted its head at him.
England scratched his neck below his scarf, looked away, looked back, colored a shade, and muttered, "Do…you suppose it would let me pet it…?"
Antarctica's eyes shone. "You like them, too?!"
"I…that is…so long as I'm already here…" he trailed off weakly.
"Mm, mm-hmm! Go ahead! They're not scared of people, yet! Not these ones!" He demonstrated by crouching next to the fluffy little bird and rubbing its back. It squeaked happily.
England hesitated, adjusted his coat, then hobbled down to one knee. He fumbled off a glove and extended his hand carefully towards the penguin.
It bit him.
---
2000
Antarctica walked into the Submillimeter Telescope and Remote Observatory Project headquarters to find America, Australia, and New Zealand standing around a dead body.
He stopped. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh--"
"Shit," America swore. He took Antarctica by the hand and steered him back into the hallway. Antarctica craned his neck until the corpse disappeared from view, unable to look away.
"Wh-what happened to him?" he turned pleading eyes up towards America, who knelt in front of him. "Did--did the heat go out?"
"No…" America bit his lip and appeared to struggle with himself.
"W-was it my fault?" Antarctica started to shake. "I-I don't mean to make it so cold! I just, I just--"
"No--no, sweetie--it wasn't the heat. It's not your fault." America rubbed Antarctica's arm.
Antarctica stared over America's shoulder, wide-eyed. "He--I liked him. Just, just yesterday he was telling me about electromagnetic induction, and, and he w-would give me candies…" he pushed up his glasses and turned his gaze back on America. "What happened?"
America exhaled. "It's…too soon to say for sure, but…but it looks like he was murdered."
Antarctica trembled. "I-I don't understand."
America squeezed his arm comfortingly. "I don't, either. He was a good scientist, a good worker…he got along with everyone on the base…"
Antarctica interrupted with a shake of his head and an increasingly lost expression. "N-no, I-I mean--I don't understand...what's murder?"
---
2004
Antarctica stood on the hill at Bellinghausen Station and blinked at the ornate wooden building.
"It's a church," Russia explained.
Well, Antarctica understood that part, but-- "Why?"
"For your spiritual improvement." Russia folded his arms and examined the little tower.
The young nation didn't know what to say to that.
"Now, I expect you to attend Divine Liturgy every Sunday," Russia went on. "It's only an hour, so I know you can find time from your studies for it."
"But…" Antarctica bit his lip, doubtful. "Won't it all be in Russian?"
Russia frowned down at him. "Haven't you been practicing your Russian?"
"W-well…yes, but--"
"Actually, it's in Church Slavonic," Russia reflected. "But you will adjust to it."
Antarctica dropped his eyes to the ground.
"And of course you will need to learn the Stolpovoy Raspev--"
Antarctica's lips moved. "Column…hymn?" he faltered.
A glance. "Close enough. It has thirty-two parts, so you may want to begin with the--"
Antarctica blinked, pushed up his glasses, and tugged on the hem of Russia's coat to get his attention. "But why?" he repeated.
Russia tugged his scarf a bit tighter. "All Russians know the Stolpovoy Raspev."
"That's not what I--" Antarctica stopped, consternated. "Wait, but--I'm not even Russian!"
"Not yet," Russia agreed. A high, thin breeze swept in off the South Sea and ruffled their coats and pale hair.
Antarctica grimaced. "Nuh-uh…at that big shouty meeting, all of you agreed not to take any more bits of me."
"For as long as the treaty remains in effect," Russia concurred. "But things change. Brazil has reserved the right to make a claim. Peru has reserved the right to make a claim. America has reserved the right to make a claim…"
Antarctica's mouth twisted up like he tasted something foul. "And you did, too, huh?" his little jaw set.
"Naturally, I reserved the right to claim territory discovered by Russians." Russia patted Antarctica's head absently, and turned back down the hill.
"So…so what…" Antarctica made fists at his sides. "So you mean, like, King George Island?"
Russia tossed a smile back over his shoulder. "I mean the entire continent."
Antarctica gaped, twitching, as Russia strolled down towards the research center.
Russia called to him without looking: "Keep practicing your Russian!"
---
--Great Britain made the first official Antarctic territorial claim in 1903.
--Solveg Gunbjørg Jacobsen was the first person ever born in Antarctica, on October 8, 1913.
--The Antarctic Treaty, signed in 1959 and going into effect in 1961, established freedom of scientific investigation and banned military activity on the continent. Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Chile, France, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and the United States were the original signatories.
--The Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources guaranteed the preservation of the Antarctic biosphere in 1982.
--Australian Rodney David Marks, an astrophysicist, died May 12, 2000, from methanol poisoning, while working on an American research base for the Smithsonian Institute. This was covered as 'Antarctica's first murder.'
--Trinity Church, at Bellinghausen Station, was established February 4, 2004, and is the southernmost Orthodox religious building in the world. You can see a picture of it here.
--This is a baby emperor penguin.
Originally posted: Here, for wizzard890 as part of her reverse request post. Also, entirely coincidentally: happy birthday, Wizard! ♥ (And thank you erueru_2d for the translations and for answering all of my random questions. You're such a gem.)
Length: 2400 words.
Characters/Pairings: Antarctica OC; also England, Norway, America, Russia, France, and a slew of brief appearances from others.
Premise: Check it out, you guys! Antarctica!
Time period: 1908-2004.
Smuttiness: 0/10
Funnyness: 4/10
Wrist slashiness: 3/10
Lolhistoryness: 7/10
Violence: 0/10
Would I like it?: It's about an OC (possibly bad) and it has penguins in it (obviously good). It's up to you how you balance those things against each other.
---
1908
A lone figure descended the gangplank and stepped out onto the soundless white expanse of ice.
He said, "Jesus Christ fucking bloody hell it's cold here."
And then, a moment later, his hands braced on his hips, "Right, then. This bit's mine."
A small child who had almost blended into the snow tugged on his pant leg. "Um."
England jumped. He took a step back and peered over the high collar of his parka, down at a little white upturned face.
"Who are you?" he demanded after a few seconds.
The boy looked perplexed by the question. A frigid wind blew through them, and the boy didn't even flinch.
"Ah," England supplied. "Of course. Well. In that case, I suppose nobody would have told you, would they. You're Antarctica, my boy."
Antarctica shifted his feet in the snow. It covered him almost to his hips.
England patted his downy white hair in a vaguely paternal fashion. "Now, don't fret. I've done this plenty of times. You're a country, all right? Or--I suppose you might become one, in the fullness of time. And I'm England. I'm an empire."
England paused, apparently waiting for a response, and so Antarctica thought about it for a little while. He ventured, "Okay."
England kept waiting. Antarctica thought some more. "Um," he offered. Fidgeted. His hair dropped into his eyes. "I'm looking for my penguins."
England frowned. "Penguins?"
Antarctica nodded. "They're supposed to be here this time of year."
A little silence.
"But they're not," he added.
England stuffed his hands into his pockets and squinted out towards the pale blue horizon. "Er. Yes. Indeed."
Antarctica bit his little lip and gazed at the ground in an unfocused way. "Have you seen them?" he tried.
"No. That is--no, I haven't seen any penguins. Listen. I'm an empire, and that means I go about deciding that other countries belong to me. And I've decided that this is mine." He made a circular twirling gesture with one finger to indicate the surrounding wasteland.
Antarctica stared up at him blankly for a few seconds, and then his eyes widened, and he looked around England's knee at the waiting ship with an expression of dismay. "I-I don't want to go on the boat!"
"What?" England glanced over his shoulder at it. "Oh, don't be daft, boy, I'm not claiming all of you. Who needs that much ice? No," he asserted. "I just want this bit."
Antarctica cast about, his hands grabbing at something in the air that England couldn't see, and protested, "But my penguins come here!"
"Excellent," England replied. "Are they any good for eating, do you know?"
Antarctica stared up at him with enormous gray eyes for five seconds, and then he burst into tears.
"Oh, don't--sodding hell…don't cry, that's hardly necessary--"
"I don't like you!" Antarctica cried, and sat down hard in the snow.
England rubbed his forehead with the back of a gloved hand, and sighed to himself, "I'm so bloody sick of children."
---
1913
"Antarctica?" Norway stuck his head out the door and adjusted his cap. "Would you come inside for a moment?"
Antarctica looked up form welding sticks together with clumps of mud in the street of Grytviken, and clambered to his feet. He hopped up the stairs to the small log house and took Norway's hand.
Norway gave him an encouraging smile. "It's a very big day for the Jacobsen family." He led the little nation through the main room, past the fireplace. "And for you. I thought you might want to see."
Norway opened the bedroom door. Antarctica's eyes widened. He screamed.
There was an explosion of Norwegian from all the adults in the room, and Norway tugged on Antarctica's shoulder while Antarctica flattened his back against the wall.
"What is it?" he cried. "It's--it's--it's screaming!"
"Please, it's all right--" Norway threw a desperate look around the room. "I'm so sorry, everyone--"
"What's gotten into the boy?" the doctor demanded, half out of his chair.
"It's deformed!" Antarctica wailed.
"Antarctica--" Norway hushed.
"What is it!" The pallid, malformed little thing was squalling in the bedridden woman's arms.
"It's a baby," Norway urged.
Antarctica looked in a panic from the crying infant, to Norway, and back. "Wh-what?"
Norway exhaled and threw an apologetic grimace to the wide-eyed mother. He knelt in front of Antarctica and put his hands on the boy's slim shoulders. "A baby," he repeated softly. "A little girl. The Jacobsens' just had a little girl. Her name is Solveg."
Antarctica's heart rate gradually evened out. He wet his lips and stammered, "I-it's a person?"
"It's a little girl. A healthy little girl." Norway smiled a bit. "She's probably the first person ever born on your land. Isn't she?"
Antarctica nodded fervently. After another second, he peeled himself off the wall.
"She's not a very big person," he said doubtfully.
Norway exhaled on a laugh. "Maybe not, but she'll get bigger. Just like you."
---
1959
"Listen up, comrade, if you think for one second I'm gonna make any concessions to you, you've got another thing coming--"
"Typical belligerent posturing from a fat, stupid, whoring capitalist bastard--my requests are very reasonable--"
"Who are you calling fat?!"
"I don't know why everyone is fighting," Antarctica fretted. He huddled over a desk in the middle of the room, a book tucked against his chest, while sixteen angry nations shouted over his head.
"Nobody recognizes your claim," Argentina snarled, and stabbed his finger into Chile's chest.
Chile smacked his hand aside. "Nobody recognizes yours either, you stupid fuck, not since you dropped it right over mine--"
"And mine," England cut in. "Which, I must say--"
"I-I mean it's not like I really have anything useful." Antarctica tugged his feet up onto the chair with him, and nudged up his enormous, round glasses.
"You're the plus size, here, asshole--"
"Esli b vokrug ne bylo svideteley, klyanus' ya by nachistil tebe mordu--"
"Speak in a real fuckin' language!"
"I guess there's a bit of oil and things," Antarctica writhed, "But it's all trapped under the, um, the ice."
"I should have known you would be unable to put aside your pride for the sake of science." Russia leaned over the table, while South Africa and Belgium tried to hold him back.
"I don't see what a crate full of Dragunovs has to do with science--" America strained against New Zealand and Japan.
"Y-you know, like everything else," Antarctica concluded miserably.
"Would you all shut up!" France snapped.
"He wants to bring guns to the South Pole!" America jerked his chin at Russia.
"I would only use them to shoot your incompetent spies." Russia shook off his captors and glared.
"Well, I've got a bit of a problem with that! --And my spies are not incompetent! --Not that I'm spying!"
A brief, discomfited silence followed that assertion. Russia smirked. Antarctica blinked like a startled owl as he thought of something, and piped up brightly, "Although I do have over seven hundred species of extremophile phytoplankton!"
America blinked, squinted, refocused, furrowed his eyebrows, then looked at Antarctica and managed, "What?"
"And about fifty different kinds of bryophytes," he chirped.
"…What?"
"The only company he has is that of our scientists," France sighed. "Would everyone please be quiet? You are embarrassing yourselves. It is not even as if any of this territory is strategically important."
Antarctica looked crestfallen, until Norway rest a hand on his small shoulder and whispered, "That's a good thing for you."
"I am sure we can come up with some civilized arrangement." France stroked a lock of hair over his shoulder.
America had by that point collected himself. He jerked his thumb at Russia, who looked prepared to bite it off. "I'll make a civilized arrangement out of his face if he tries to give his scientists sniper rifles."
"I would give anything for you to try it," Russia murmured.
"Hey, any time, any place, pal--"
"Kogda ty budesh moim, ya s udovolstviem i navsegda vyshibu etu ulybku s tvoego litsa."
"Oh, you smartass son of a bitch--" America lunged for him.
France leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. Antarctica opened his book. He was fourteen chapters into Carbon Cycle in the Arctic Seas. He pushed up his glasses again.
---
1982
Antarctica saw England advancing across the ice, and panicked.
"You can't have them!" he leapt to his feet, dove for the nearest baby penguin--they stood in the thick of thousands of them--and threw his arms around it. The penguin squeaked, spun, and they both toppled over.
England ran forward and tried to pull the boy up, only to be fought off with flailing legs and flippers.
"Go away!' Antarctica kicked.
"Antarctica--Antarctica, do calm down--" England got hold of Antarctica's arm and yanked him half upright. Antarctica clung to the baby penguin with his other arm so tightly that he had a mouth and face full of fluff.
"They're my penguins!" he shouted.
"Relax, would you--"
"Leave them alone!"
"No one's going to touch your bloody penguins, calm down!" England snapped. He gave up untangling the young nation from the excited bird, and let Antarctica curl up around his new friend. "That's what I've come to tell you, in fact."
Antarctica scowled at him, those wintry eyes full of suspicion.
England blew out a breath. "The chaps and I all got together," he explained, "And we agreed to designate your penguins a protected species. Along with all your other wildlife. So stop carrying on."
Antarctica was still for a few seconds. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, then cautiously sat up. The penguin rolled onto its stomach and puffed out with a little trill. "You mean it?" he asked, guarded.
"I'm entirely in earnest," England confirmed. He blinked when Antarctica lunged up and hugged his knee ecstatically.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
England shook his leg gingerly to dislodge him. Antarctica took a step back and beamed. "Yes, well," England mustered. He examined the penguin. The penguin waggled its flippers and canted its head at him.
England scratched his neck below his scarf, looked away, looked back, colored a shade, and muttered, "Do…you suppose it would let me pet it…?"
Antarctica's eyes shone. "You like them, too?!"
"I…that is…so long as I'm already here…" he trailed off weakly.
"Mm, mm-hmm! Go ahead! They're not scared of people, yet! Not these ones!" He demonstrated by crouching next to the fluffy little bird and rubbing its back. It squeaked happily.
England hesitated, adjusted his coat, then hobbled down to one knee. He fumbled off a glove and extended his hand carefully towards the penguin.
It bit him.
---
2000
Antarctica walked into the Submillimeter Telescope and Remote Observatory Project headquarters to find America, Australia, and New Zealand standing around a dead body.
He stopped. "Oh, my gosh. Oh, my gosh--"
"Shit," America swore. He took Antarctica by the hand and steered him back into the hallway. Antarctica craned his neck until the corpse disappeared from view, unable to look away.
"Wh-what happened to him?" he turned pleading eyes up towards America, who knelt in front of him. "Did--did the heat go out?"
"No…" America bit his lip and appeared to struggle with himself.
"W-was it my fault?" Antarctica started to shake. "I-I don't mean to make it so cold! I just, I just--"
"No--no, sweetie--it wasn't the heat. It's not your fault." America rubbed Antarctica's arm.
Antarctica stared over America's shoulder, wide-eyed. "He--I liked him. Just, just yesterday he was telling me about electromagnetic induction, and, and he w-would give me candies…" he pushed up his glasses and turned his gaze back on America. "What happened?"
America exhaled. "It's…too soon to say for sure, but…but it looks like he was murdered."
Antarctica trembled. "I-I don't understand."
America squeezed his arm comfortingly. "I don't, either. He was a good scientist, a good worker…he got along with everyone on the base…"
Antarctica interrupted with a shake of his head and an increasingly lost expression. "N-no, I-I mean--I don't understand...what's murder?"
---
2004
Antarctica stood on the hill at Bellinghausen Station and blinked at the ornate wooden building.
"It's a church," Russia explained.
Well, Antarctica understood that part, but-- "Why?"
"For your spiritual improvement." Russia folded his arms and examined the little tower.
The young nation didn't know what to say to that.
"Now, I expect you to attend Divine Liturgy every Sunday," Russia went on. "It's only an hour, so I know you can find time from your studies for it."
"But…" Antarctica bit his lip, doubtful. "Won't it all be in Russian?"
Russia frowned down at him. "Haven't you been practicing your Russian?"
"W-well…yes, but--"
"Actually, it's in Church Slavonic," Russia reflected. "But you will adjust to it."
Antarctica dropped his eyes to the ground.
"And of course you will need to learn the Stolpovoy Raspev--"
Antarctica's lips moved. "Column…hymn?" he faltered.
A glance. "Close enough. It has thirty-two parts, so you may want to begin with the--"
Antarctica blinked, pushed up his glasses, and tugged on the hem of Russia's coat to get his attention. "But why?" he repeated.
Russia tugged his scarf a bit tighter. "All Russians know the Stolpovoy Raspev."
"That's not what I--" Antarctica stopped, consternated. "Wait, but--I'm not even Russian!"
"Not yet," Russia agreed. A high, thin breeze swept in off the South Sea and ruffled their coats and pale hair.
Antarctica grimaced. "Nuh-uh…at that big shouty meeting, all of you agreed not to take any more bits of me."
"For as long as the treaty remains in effect," Russia concurred. "But things change. Brazil has reserved the right to make a claim. Peru has reserved the right to make a claim. America has reserved the right to make a claim…"
Antarctica's mouth twisted up like he tasted something foul. "And you did, too, huh?" his little jaw set.
"Naturally, I reserved the right to claim territory discovered by Russians." Russia patted Antarctica's head absently, and turned back down the hill.
"So…so what…" Antarctica made fists at his sides. "So you mean, like, King George Island?"
Russia tossed a smile back over his shoulder. "I mean the entire continent."
Antarctica gaped, twitching, as Russia strolled down towards the research center.
Russia called to him without looking: "Keep practicing your Russian!"
---
--Great Britain made the first official Antarctic territorial claim in 1903.
--Solveg Gunbjørg Jacobsen was the first person ever born in Antarctica, on October 8, 1913.
--The Antarctic Treaty, signed in 1959 and going into effect in 1961, established freedom of scientific investigation and banned military activity on the continent. Argentina, Australia, Belgium, Chile, France, Japan, New Zealand, Norway, South Africa, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and the United States were the original signatories.
--The Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources guaranteed the preservation of the Antarctic biosphere in 1982.
--Australian Rodney David Marks, an astrophysicist, died May 12, 2000, from methanol poisoning, while working on an American research base for the Smithsonian Institute. This was covered as 'Antarctica's first murder.'
--Trinity Church, at Bellinghausen Station, was established February 4, 2004, and is the southernmost Orthodox religious building in the world. You can see a picture of it here.
--This is a baby emperor penguin.
