Well hello there~ so, this is my first time writing a multi-chap. Go me! Haha. Anywho~I would like to point out that there is a sad amount of Viking AU's on here, despite the fact that there is much Nordic Love out there. So, I decided to do some research and discovered that Kilmuir, Skye (in Scotland) was one of the last places that the Vikings ever inhabited in the UK, so I saw a perfect place for my story.

Now, not a lot is known about the last battle that took place in Skye, so it was also good for me as it means I can take many artistic liberties. Although, I have done TONS of research on it, and hopefully I kept as true to history as I could have. If you see something that is wrong and shouldn't have happened, feel free to point it out and I will change it, plot line permitting.

This will be put at the beginning of every chapter, so feel free to ignore it from this point on. I just want to be sure to cover all bases.

Also, I do know that the Nordics are usually depicted as children, or pre-teens, when they are Vikings, but for story purposes I made them older. Denmark (Mathias Køhler)-17, Norway (Lukas Bondevik)-16, Sweden (Berwald Oxenstierna)-19, Finland (Tino Väinämöinen)-17, Iceland (Eiríkur Bondevik)-15

And, yes, these names were not used in the Viking era, but considering these are the names of Himaruya's characters (Denmark, Norway, and Iceland being fanon) I have to use these. So if it bugs you that they're not proper for their time period, don't read!

Also, for story purposes, Iceland's last name is the same as Norway's. I do know that in the anime they don't (well, according to their human names, anyway), but for this story they do as they quite literally are brothers.

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine, the characters are not mine, Vikings are not mine, and Scotland sure as heck is not mine.

Enjoy!

Lukas Bondevik looked around him, seeing his home through new eyes. The people, all wrapped in their cloaks and war attire, gathering provisions for the long journey ahead. He couldn't believe this, that they were actually leaving their home…he saw the snow all around, cascading down from the sky in gentle waves. His own cloak fluttered around, and he drew it close to help block the cold. His body was still not entirely acclimated to the winter yet, being only the month of September. He saw his father and mother, brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts, uncles, all bustling about in order to leave as fast as possible.

The Danish were coming to destroy them, after all.

"Lukas! Get over here, boy, I need help with this crate!" called his mother, Aðísla, as she attempted to carry a crate over to the long-boat. Lukas rushed over to help her, and they walked as carefully as they could, but Lukas kept tripping trying to keep up with his mother's hurried pace. Nothing in Lukas' brain seemed to be working now, everything frozen in place like the land around him…

His home. He was leaving his home. This could not be true.

The Danish were supposed to be their friends! Lukas' village had done nothing to the Densen village! Well, Lukas was considered only a child in his family's eyes, but surely he was old enough to know if his own flesh and blood had done something to anger their trading partners from across the sea?

"Mother, why are the Densen's coming to kill us? What have we done that is so terrible?" Lukas asked 2 hours later as they climbed into the long-boats and pushed off into the sea. Lukas dimly recalled his father saying that living so close to the sea would eventually save their lives, and he had to wonder at the man's knack for choosing homes. Of course, his father was off in another boat, going to meet the Densen's to fight on the water…

"Lukas, you need not ask so many questions. Now, go tend to your brother. He is cold; give him your cloak." Aðísla quickly replied to her son's query, and danced around the boxes of their belongings to join Lukas' aunt, Hjálmgerðr , at the opposite end of the ship.

"B-brør?" Eiríkur called out, and Lukas quickly joined him. Eiríkur, despite being nowhere near the youngest (in fact, there were five younger than him, and four above Lukas himself in the family, another on the way [1]) was always treated as such. He was always sick; the cold winters were particularly harsh upon his frail body, and he had never become accustomed to boats. Lukas dimly remembered the summer they had found him wandering along the Norwegian shoreline, mumbling something about an island he had to find. His mother figured the boy had a raging fever (he did, in fact), and so they brought him home and adopted him as their own. It had taken around a week for Eiríkur to become better, but his illness had weakened his body, causing him to be frail ever since.

Lukas had been six at the time, Eiríkur five. When the younger of the two had woken up, Lukas had been there, and the two boys had taken to each other immediately.

"Sh, Eiríkur. It's okay. Here, have my cloak. It'll keep you warm." Lukas shrugged out of his deep red cloak, wrapping it around the younger boy. Eiríkur tightened it around his chest, grateful for the warmth. Lukas was used to the open sea; it had practically been his second home. He was used to the cold spray in the air around them, the harsh wind whipping through their hair- Eiríkur was not.

"Brør, why are we leaving? I thought…" Eiríkur's voice trailed off as he settled into a coughing fit, and Lukas scrambled to find Eiríkur's drinking horn, and he tore off the cap, pressing the tip to Eiríkur's mouth. Eiríkur took in only a small portion, as fresh water would be hard to come by in the time to come, especially if they were running from the Densen's.

After Lukas had put Eiríkur's drinking horn back into its case, the younger one continued. "I thought the Densen's were our trading partners. Why are they attacking us? And why aren't we staying to fight?" Eiríkur asked, and he looked exhausted.

"I don't know, Eiríkur. I thought so too. And you know why we are not going out to fight the Densen's with the other men. You are far too sickly, and I am the only one whom you allow to treat your illness." Lukas said gently, with a little bit of humor. Eiríkur had grown somewhat independent of Lukas in his nine years of living with the Bondevik's, but he still had to have Lukas treat him. Lukas sometimes wondered why, but it had always been that way, so he had grown used to it.

"Lukas, do you think that we are going to that place? The one that the Oxenstierna's went to a few years ago?" Eiríkur asked thoughtfully, and Lukas had to think hard about who the Oxenstierna's were…ah, yes. Now he remembered.

Specifically, a tall, blonde boy with piercing, harsh blue eyes. What was his name again? Ah, it was Berwald. Lukas dimly recalled he was from Sweden, and Lukas' family had traded quite often with the Oxenstierna's…

"I can't believe you remember them, Eiríkur. I barely remember them myself! But, yes, I do believe that is where we are heading. It has saved many of our neighboring friends in the past." Lukas answered, still trying to remember the details of that year of seeing the Oxenstierna's every month…

"Lukas, come here!" Aðísla called to her son, who slowly walked over with his Eiríkur. "This is Berwald Oxenstierna. We have begun trading with his family, and I expect you to play nice with him, okay?"

Lukas nodded as Eiríkur grabbed his hand nervously. The seven-year-old was still nervous around people that weren't his adopted family, and Lukas suspected it had something to do with the fact that he had been lost and practically dead on his feet when they had found him. He must have been kidnapped to be used as a slave, and then somehow had been set free (or escaped); after all, what kind of family would leave their child to that?

"Yes, moðir [2]." Lukas said, and Eiríkur shuffles so he's standing behind his older brother.

"H'llo." Said a gruff voice, and Lukas saw an older boy step out from behind the woman Lukas' mother was talking to. He had blonde hair, a few shades lighter than Lukas', and deep blue eyes. He seemed to squint at everything he looks at, as if he can't quite see anything, and Lukas wondered if his eyes are bad like his uncle's.

"Hello, Berwald. My name is Lukas Bondevik, and this is my younger brother, Eiríkur. It is a pleasure to meet you." Lukas said, the words as crisp and cold as the air around them. Berwald's mother laughed at this, telling Lukas' mother about how she had a "V'ry p'lite l'ttle one." Aðísla just shrugged fondly, saying "That's my Lukas for you."

Berwald, Lukas, and Eiríkur had eventually begun to unfreeze toward each other, and spent many an hour speaking of highly important business (the formation of mud pies, how to properly wield a stick, and what to do if your shield was "accidentally" used for firewood by your parents, being their primary subjects).

After knowing the Oxenstierna's for only one year, the other family had set off. The fields from their village in Sweden had become inhabited by a fungus, and had ruined every bit of wheat and barley they had planted, as well as their left-over seeds from the previous year. So, in search of food, they had decided to go to a far away island to find shelter and new fields. Lukas had been there to see the family off himself, along with his faðir [3], faðirbróðir [4], and Eiríkur. Lukas and Eiríkur had only been granted permission to do so after begging their faðir to take them along, and finally Áskell had agreed to take the boy's along. Lukas and Eiríkur had been overjoyed when they had seen the older boy, but all too soon their games had to come to an end as the Oxenstierna's belongings were completely put in the long-boat.

"Well, Berwald, it has been a pleasure to have known you." Lukas said stoically, sticking his little hand out to be shaken. It was grasped by a hand much larger than his, the now eleven-year-old having grown much more than he should have by that age. Lukas, eight, was still the same size as he had been when he had met the Swede, and the difference was obvious.

"L'kw'se. I w'll m'ss you, Luk's. 'nd you, Eir'k'r." At these words, Eiríkur nearly broke down with tears, and grabbed the Swede, holding on tightly.

"You were my first friend, Berwald. A'sides Lukas. Thanks." And with that, the younger boy let go, eyes filled with tears. His first friend, the first person he had opened up to besides his adopted family, had to leave him so soon. Lukas put his arm around Eiríkur for support, and Berwald mumbled a "w'lc'me."

Then the Swede had run to the boat, and they had pushed off, in search of that place they called Scotland.

"Most likely, Eiríkur. After all, faðir has talked about moving there for quit some time. Think of this as a...push to finally get there. Let us hope that we get there with our lives intact, though." Lukas said, as he sat beside his brother, squeezing between him and the crate of jerky to Lukas' left.

"I hope faðir will be okay. And all the other men. May the Allfather [5] protect them." Lukas nods at Eiríkur's soft, worried words. Lukas felt horrible, having to be stuck with his younger brother. He was a Viking, he shouldn't have to be stuck here taking care of his younger brother. No, he wasn't complaining per se, but it was still...tiring. Here he was, a healthy sixteen-year-old, and not being allowed to fight alongside his own family. His brother Smiðkell, who was fourteen, was allowed to fight! So why shouldn't Lukas?

But, Lukas realized, if he did go to fight, he would most likely die. He had always taken care of his brother, and throughout the years when he should have been training to fight and conquer far off lands, he had instead been helping Eiríkur with his illness. The men at the village had often called him horrible things when they had discovered he stayed at home, acting nurse to his brother. Most of the taunts being kottrinn inn blauði [6], and sansorðinn [7].

Lukas scowled as the memories bowled through his mind, the words thrown out in the air echoing through his brain. But, no matter how much he denied it, he knew the insults had a ring of truth to them. For he was. It was an awful feeling, knowing he was. Knowing that he would never be able to actually be with a man, for Lukas could never be the...dominant one.

Of course, that is the only way to be looked down upon for being...this way. Is if you acted like a woman through the...act. It was considered cowardice, horrific, to lower yourself to the place of a woman through the act of intercourse between men. To be in the role of a man was perfectly okay, for you were not shaming your body, but to be passive...

Lukas shuddered. If he ever commited that act, and people found out...he could be cursed. Any number of his fellow village members could take an animal that bears children, cut off its head, put it on a stick, point it towards his house and speak those unbearable words of hatred [8].

"Lukas? Do you hear that...?" Eiríkur whispered to Lukas, who silenced his thoughts to try and hear through the high winds and crashing waves. Just on the edge of the scope of his hearing, he could barely make out a sound...that seemed to be getting closer.

It was the calls of battle. And these calls were not in the dialect of Lukas' village.

It was the Densen's, bloodthirsty and aching for war.

[1] In Viking households, the woman was expected to have children from the day of her marriage (the night of consummation) until she was barren, so as to honor their husbands with children. This is why the woman were so important; if their husbands pissed them off enough, they could threaten divorce, and then the husband would no longer be honored with children. Yeah, it's complicated.

[2] moðir (Old Norse) Mother (English)

[3] faðir (Old Norse) Father (English)

[4] faðirbróðir (Old Norse) Uncle (English)

[5] Allfather-this was another name for Odin, the "ruler", of sorts, of Scandinavian gods. Now, Odin was merely the ruler of Ásgarðr, the home of the Æsir. There were many "worlds" in their mythology, nine in total, with Ásgarðr being the primary one. The nine worlds were tied together through the "World Tree" Yggdrasil. Yes, it is complicated. If you want a more detailed view of Norse Mythology, just message me!

[6] kottrinn inn blauði (Old Norse) Soft Cat (English)-an insult basically meaning "faggot"

[7] sansorðinn (Old Norse) I don't know the exact translation of the word, but it is another insult about being gay

[8] this was the way of "cursing" those who were the –ahem- passive role in homosexual intercourse (ohmylawd I sound like I'm 80). Mainly, the insults about being the passive partner could basically be translated to being an animal that bares young (like the Soft Cat insult above, or a mare, or a female dog), thus you were basically called a woman. So, if you took the head of an animal and pointed it towards the passive members home, then that is basically pointing them out as being such, but it also signifies that you have asked the gods to curse you. It was some pretty harsh stuff.

As with all online translations, there are going to be mistakes. If you see any, please don't be afraid to point them out and correct me! I will change them if they are wrong, so please help poor little, only-speaks-stupid-English me.

Now, this story will be a lot darker than my other stories (which should be obvious, it IS a Viking AU after all) but I just felt I should warn you guys. For anyone who has read my previous stories (OK, my two one-shots that are so fluffy you could stuff a thousand toy puffins), you will indeed be shocked that I can be this dark. (Well, maybe not TOO dark as then I shall get depressed, and we don't want that, now do we?)

But, still. You have been warned.

Also, I will indeed be putting Scotland in as a character in later chapters. I have not seen many consistent fanon names for him, so if someone could give me some names, I will choose my favorite from those. Ideas?

R&R and tell me what you guys think so far~