Chapter Text
It always starts the same way. The hosts step out onto the stage. They introduce themselves, announce the start of Beovizija. There's a montage of past Serbian songs, past Eurovision songs. An opening act. Then the contest begins. But this time was different. Everyone was thinking about something else entirely. The Norwegian dictatorship. No one could believe it when tiny, peaceful Norway had become a dictatorship. No one could believe it when tiny, peaceful Norway had attacked Denmark and won. No one could believe it when their dictator announced that their nuclear programme had been successful, and they now had an arsenal of nuclear weapons. And now things were getting even worse. Norway had invaded Sweden. Norway had dropped a nuclear warhead on Sweden. The international community stood by and did nothing. No one wanted to be the first to stand up to Norway, no one wanted to do anything. But ignoring it wouldn't make the reality go away.
Still, now wasn't really the time or the place. Beovizija wasn't a political event, it wasn't here to offer commentary on Norway's new dictatorship, it wasn't here to offer solutions. It was here to offer a distraction. The contestants were backstage. They were all waiting for their moment on stage. Even though they wouldn't talk about it, the atmosphere in the room was totally different. Nevena looked down. The newspaper on the desk showed it. Norway's nuclear weapon hitting Sweden. The flood of survivors trying to get out of the Swedish capital. The media hadn't revealed what Stockholm looked like in the aftermath yet, but everyone knew that it wouldn't be good.
"No one is doing anything about Norway," Nevena said, "They're getting away with this. We're allowing them to get away with everything."
The other entrants fell silent. They had all been talking to each other about mundane things, literally anything that wasn't to do with Norway's growing empire and their new dictator. Nevena had been the first to mention anything about it.
"Nevena, please," Dženan said, "I thought we all agreed we wouldn't talk about it."
"We did," Nevena said, "But what's the point? Everyone here is still thinking about it. I know you all are. I know I am."
"Nevena..." Dženan began, but he couldn't finish his sentence as the door slammed open. Željko Joksimović, the interval act for the evening, rushed into the green room. He looked seriously worried, it was clear that something was very wrong indeed.
"Željko?" Nevena said, "Is something wrong?"
"Everything's wrong," Željko said, struggling to find the right words, "It's... it's... it's him. He's here."
"Who's here?" Dženan asked. Nevena knew the answer to that. It was so obvious.
"Jon Ola Sand," Željko said, "He's here. In the stadium. He's here."
Jon Ola Sand. The Norwegian dictator.
"What?" Dženan said, "Why?"
"I don't know," Željko said, "I really don't know. Someone said something about promoting 'friendship' between Serbia and Norway. All I know is, this really isn't going to end well."
"Where is he?" Nevena said, "Tell me where he is! I have a few things I'd like to say to him!"
Nevena wasn't like the others. She was loud, outspoken, the perfect person to take the Norwegian dictator to task for the things he had done. Željko sat down next to her.
"Nevena," Željko said, "Please, you can't. This is not a game Nevena, please promise me you won't do or say anything to him."
"So, what then?" Nevena said, "We're just supposed to sit here and do nothing?"
"If you want to live then yes," Željko said.
At that moment the door opened again. Jon Ola Sand stepped into the room. He was here. Wearing a uniform full of medals that he didn't earn. The one who had ordered the nuclear attack on Stockholm, the one who was rounding up anyone who opposed him in Norway, the one responsible for so much destruction. There were no words. There he was, standing right in front of them. But they couldn't do a thing about it. He was still the head of the EBU, after all, and they had all agreed to enter Beovizija and possibly represent Serbia in the Eurovision Song Contest. Nevena was thinking. Thinking that Jon Ola didn't have any of his guards around him, thinking about how easy it would be to attack him then and there. Željko looked over at Nevena and guessed what she was thinking about. Željko tapped her on the shoulder and shot her a pleading look when she turned towards him, as if to say 'no, no, don't do it.' He wanted to scream it at her, beg her not to attack the Norwegian dictator, but Jon Ola was here, so he couldn't. This gesture would have to do. Nevena seemed to understand, she backed down, slumped back in her chair and simply waited. Jon Ola Sand gave a sneer, and then left the room. As soon as they couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, the room erupted in chatter. Everyone was worried. What could this mean? This was not good at all.
Even though they had promised each other not to talk about it, the international situation had come to Beovizija anyway. When it was a far away problem, they could just ignore that Norway was a dictatorship. Sweden was nowhere near Serbia, so they could ignore that too. But they couldn't just ignore the fact that the Norwegian dictator was in the same building as them. They couldn't ignore the fact that he was here. Nevena looked across at that newspaper again. Should she have done something?
"Hey, Nevena," Željko said, "Thanks for not doing anything. I know how hard that must have been for you."
"Thanks," Nevena said, "You're right Željko, doing something now wouldn't help at all. If he's here for the whole Beovizija, I think we can plan something."
Željko was shocked. This wasn't what he meant at all. He just wanted this night to end peacefully so he could go back home and go back to ignoring Norway's dictatorship. Go back to ignoring everything. But here Nevena was, planning on taking down their brutal dictator once and for all. He wanted to explain to her, explain that this wouldn't work, that this could never work. But she didn't want to hear it. It looked like she was set on this.
"Nevena," Dženan said, "Željko's right, how are you going to do something against someone as powerful as him? There's no way it can work."
"Nevena," Željko said, "People who are more powerful than us have tried. People in Norway have tried. Jon Ola Sand cannot be taken down. This will go badly. Stop. Whatever it is you're planning, whatever it is you're thinking, just stop."
Nevena shook her head. It was going to be hard to bring them to her side, she could see that. They were all terrified of Jon Ola, and for good reason. Nevena was too, but she knew that she would never be able to forgive herself if she did nothing when she could have done something.
"We have to do something," Nevena said, "Isn't it wrong to just sit and do nothing when the person responsible for so many bad things is standing right in front of you? We can stop this, stop this war, stop the dictatorship in Norway. If you think he isn't going to bring his war to Serbia, then you're wrong. People in Denmark thought the same as you're all thinking now, people in Sweden... they thought so too. Thought that Norway would let them live in peace. But as long as Jon Ola Sand is in charge of Norway, there can be no peace."
They all fell silent. They knew Nevena was right about Norway, but didn't know what to do about it. Željko tried to disuade her again, try to make her see it his way, make her see reason. But she simply ignored him. She wasn't going to allow herself to be talked out of this.