It's not… ( he says helplessly, uncertainly, not sure if he's being fooled or not. prussia at his borders, britain in the seas… him, weak and helpless, and norway, suddenly cold. he's not sure that he does know what it means, but he doesn't reflect on that; norway stands, and he reaches out for him, curling his hands around each shoulder; he doesn't understand, he doesn't want to understand, he wants things to go on like they always have. and yet he feels him leaving. )

I don't care what my boss says! Don't think for a second I do! ( is it that old, bitter possessiveness? an empire's wish to keep underlings close? that is what he wants and what it must be, now that he can feel norway leaving by inch and yard; a nation thing and not a human feeling, not a human desire to hold and keep. ) No matter what, you're my best friend, and I'm not gonna let anyone take you!