This story was a request from a tumblr follower of mine, Flo, who wished for a DenNor story where the two are teenagers and where the theme is "Breaking the Rules". So. The story kind of goes all over the place and the theme isn't too apparent but I tried, so don't kill me! Ahh! I do not own Hetalia nor it's characters but I do own this story. This chapters song is "Klevabergselden" by Garmarna. REVIEW PLEASE!
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There is a village, enclosed with tall pines and yellowing aspens from autumns warning breath. Where the wolf howls and whines from outside the great shaven pines that guard the settlement from rabid foe and enemy.
It is a village of tradition and grey-winters, a village of hardening people with beautiful blue eyes. Where one who begs will find a cot by the fire and a bowl of gruel for their trouble, where a lost stranger will be able to find his way again by elders who smoke fine pipes and cast old bone oracles.
It is a village with a slowly dying lineage - of a Chieftains son who will not marry any man nor woman if they do not face and win the six challenges placed before them. It is a village guarded by pride, a pride so stifling that those who wish to be wedded to the throne would be better off dead and buried in the blue frosted earth.
These six challenges are vague and riddled - misleading to the humbled man and daunting to those of the highest intelligence.
If one should fail, they will be shamed forever, their name lost, swallowed by the six challenges that would make crippled and sour men and women out of them all.
For these challenge were not passed down by generation - but were created from the vacant and yet deepened mind of the Chieftains son, Nikolas. The young Lord had devised such feats to weed out the weak, strangle the deceitful, and drown the unfaithful.
These daunting tasks, should a man face to win the hand of Nikolas - son of Egill Sturla, son of the village nestled along the groves of Norway - my how he will be rewarded. Robes of jack rabbits whiter than snow, chains and torc's of melted gold, chairs made from the proud horns of the reindeer, and a bridal bed on which to sleep the harsh winters away will be given to him with gladness.
Yet none had ever succeeded, their desires to hold the warmth of Lord Nikolas were burned to the ground, as was their name and faith in their abilities as noble men and women.
However, on a day when the sky was painted white by a gulls feathers, and the clouds hung low for a child's tongue to taste, Mathias Køhler, came to seek the hand of Nikolas in loyal marriage.
But what he does not know, is that Nikolas is, as it seems, destined by his own doing to never marry. Doing so would break the bleakest and grandest tradition of the village - that none are good enough to join Nikolas with the land, to be ruler along side the beautiful blue eyed boy.
Mathias could not possibly be the one to break the rule of this finely constructed curse. For if he shall…
May the Gods bless his mortal soul.
…
Mathias had heard rumors pertaining to the stubborn Lord who would not wed. It was not gossip that old ladies spun at their hearth to keep hands from becoming idle, it was truth in the best sense. It was also truthful to say that hardly any one had ever impressed the Lord Nikolas enough to even gain entrance into the grand hall to hear the six challenges read from a drab musty old scroll.
Why, it must have been five winters now since the challenges were rang through the air by goat and bull horn - and yet none of the suitors had ever shown their faces again. Some said that those who do not win the feats have their heads cut off in punishment - others say they are quartered with ropes tied to horses, arms and legs ripped clean out of their sockets.
But Mathias did not believe any of that. It was childish talk. The Chieftain Egill, was not so cruel as to kill those who did not make Nikolas' heart flutter. The Lord Egill was a fine leader and, though vicious with his enemies, he was kind and content to his kin folk and tribesmen.
This, however, would come to no good to Mathias' cause - as he was a Dane, in a Norwegians land. He doubted very much that he would be able to use his ties to his kin to be wed to this strange and chilly land where the winter sun glowed orange and where the wolves howled at the twilight of darkness.
But the Dane was strong and able - after his parents caught sick and died so long ago he had been roaming the lands alone, taking boats and rafts over from the soil of the Danes into that of the Norwegians.
He was lonely, as men often get when their only companion was a few gold coins in their pockets and a flee-bitten mare for comfort.
And so, he wished for a marriage.
He had saw Nikolas not so long ago, perhaps a few days in early fall before the frost came and many a-mans crop was lost.
Nikolas was ridding through the dregs of the muddy settlement with his father, the two of them assessing the damage of the bitter rains from that week.
The cabbage plants had drowned, but the barley was still strong. The apples that had fallen were inspected and picked from the ground, the ones that were bruised or holed with worms were given to the fattening sows.
That was when Mathias saw the Lord, picking up an arms worth of apples and pressing them into an old woman's basket.
He had been the most lovely and kind person the Dane had ever seen.
The royal family only stayed for a few nights outside their warm walled settlement, but enough for Mathias, a way warding stranger, to catch a glimpse of the beauty that was Lord Nikolas.
His eyes, like pools of a frozen pond, were so cold and calculating. He had the eyes of a leader, of a Prince or a King. They shone brighter than any stone Mathias would had hoped to pin to his breast, sleeker than the finest hide on a mare, and more stunning that the sharp gasp of the sky in winter, when the darkened trees glowed black against the indigo clouds.
It was in that week that Mathias heard, from the other patrons at the mead stall that he was prowling about in, that Lord Nikolas was in need of a marriage.
The Chieftain, bless his heart, already had excellent ties to the neighboring tribes and had no need to use his sons wedding as a tool to forbid the tidings of war.
However, it would do bad for his proud name to have a son so unattainable, one who was a frigid as a cold brook and who would not marry of his own devices, who could scare a potential suitor just by the glare of his eyes that burned like coals.
He was like a dragon, he was. And not many had even tried to attempt to please him with riches and gold.
But Mathias, curious to see if these rumors were true, bade the barkeep, the drunks, the poets, and the sages to tell him more. More, much more.
It was rumored, he found, through the stories of Nikolas that he picked from his clouded mind laced with mead, that Nikolas was cursed by his own doing in finding a good wife or husband.
He was a sullen maid, the village dubbed him. He was as devout in himself as the incense smelling Christians from the East. He was beautiful yes, a Norwegian of soft corn silk hair and deep sea blue eyes, but he was ultimately unloved. His only comfort came from his little baby brother who was still in swathes and his long furred cat who hissed at any unfamiliar hand.
To Mathias, he sounded like the most lovely of men, however angered, as if by a great spell placed upon him.
Perhaps he himself would be the one to awaken the Lord from such a curse.
But it was told that many men had tried to woo Nikolas' heart, and all had failed. His own father had become saddened and dismayed, his eldest son whom he had hoped to marry to start his own life and family, would not budge in his solemn wrath.
No suitor would please the Lord, and no suitor could be pleased by him in turn.
No woman could deal with his disagreement and no man could compete the final stage of any of his conquests - and the dowry, my the most ridiculous thing one has ever seen!
But Mathias wished to try, he had very little to lose, a poor man he was already. So with the last of his drink downed, he inquired to his new friends, the fee of such an entry to win the Lords heart.
Then, with the last of his coins jingling in his leather pouch, he made his way to the stables to collect his horse and to buy himself a dowry fit for a frigid Norwegian Lord. He only prayed the meager family heirlooms in his saddle bags for the fee would converse just how serious he was to appease Nikolas.
One could only hope.
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It wasn't long before the Dane found his way to the pine shaven logs of the grand hall - the fence that entertained the great building made from the mortared bodies of sun-struck trolls and reeds of marsh tree. The grasses from late summer had all since turned brown and withered, leaving clumps of dirt picked clean of any seed for spring by the neighboring sparrows and robins. There were rune stones, carved delicately at a stand still near the pens that narrowed to the grand halls doors, and they entreated Mathias to awe and wonder. It was a fine enclosure and an even finer manor. He would love to have shared rule over it with his hoped-to-be beloved.
He urged his horse forward, the old mare's head drooped low as she snorted with chill, eager for a hot mash or a flake of hay. She was bitter about being ridden so hard from the tavern to the hall and wished to show her disapproval to the Dane by being as slow as a pony with a lame leg.
But Mathias urged her and the rest of his animals on, his newly acquired livestock bawling and fidgeting as they ran under the belly of his grey spotted horse.
As required by the dowry, Mathias found himself ushering a nice, however small, herd of black and white sheep. Each animal was more frightened than the last, and their mouths made a great bawling bleat-like noise as they cried.
The sound of his arrival was startling.
Behind his horse he led two bony milk cows with red hides that were speckled white with age, their eyes glassy with sleep as they chewed their cud. Dirty hooves dragged over the muddied ground as they hobbled. They were sore examples of the requirement for the fee of entry, but they would have to do, as they were the only heifers in town. Such a sad lot they were.
He only hoped what he held in his meager possessions would be enough.
Upon pausing before the oaken gates, he met the gleaming faces of two guards, dressed in fur against the cold, with pounded silver helmets over their heads, red and blonde hair peeking through from the leather ear flaps.
Their faces were red with laughter as they gazed at the Dane in his ripped and soiled tunic, messily woven cloak, and ice-soaked boots and wrappings.
They snickered vehemently.
"Come to try your luck at wining the hand of Lord Nikolas, aye?" The shortest one finally spoke, not doing a civil thing to hide his laughter from the Danish suitor.
"I do not need luck gentlemen - I have passion enough." Mathias replied with a forced smile, one that showed just how terrified he was. He was more aware of his status than ever, and it was not a comforting thought.
"Oh, do you now? A passionate lover you may be - but Nikolas will see some fault in you, I am sure. I already see a bought of faults in you myself, boy." The man replied as he chewed at his cheek, his grey eyes looming over the Danish man, making him squirm atop his boney horse.
"He won't even last the second test - very few ever have." The next guard chuckled, spitting a curl of chewed cow hide from his mouth. It landed to the floor in a wet heap.
Before Mathias could reply to the two men in order to save his face from the reddening of shame, the gates creaked forward and a great big heap of a body stepped it's way past the guards.
Each of the helmeted men blinked their eyes back into fixation as they straightened up their bodes against the wood of the barrack, spears jutting high in alert.
Mathias himself grew white as a lamb in May as he looked upon the strangers face.
"Well gentlemen, let him through and he just might beat the odds!" The large man with long twisted hair curled against his chin and ears roared with delight. At his legs three giant hounds lapped at his pace and bared their teeth towards Mathias. There eyes gleamed black as they snarled.
The Dane almost had a near heart attack.
Yet the big man all dressed in fur and linen stumbled with great heft to the Danish man, his efforts and movement nearly shying Mathias' horse as he reigned her into check with a quick pull against her mouth. She whinnied in protest.
This must be the Chieftain. Mathias thought with cold realization as he quickly dismounted from his mare and gathered up her lead in his shaking and now frosty hands.
Mathias bowed low to the ground, his tattered cloak dipping into a grey puddle at his feet before he reared up with a startled gaze to greet the Chieftain of the land, Nikolas' father.
"Up boy! Up!" The boisterous leader declared with a huff of a breath as he righted the Dane, Mathias cheeks flaring red from the cold as he smiled, testing the curve of his grin on his lips. Perhaps he should bow once more, just in case.
But, my! How the rumors were true! For such a giant of a man with gnarled features, he was as kind as any kinsman, hugging the Dane to his own warm body that smelled of spiced meat and grained beer. Mathias felt funnily at ease with his hands clasped between that of the man whom he hoped to be his future father-in-law.
"My Great Lord, I come from far away - past the hills and over rivers of ice. I.. I come for your sons hand." Mathias peevishly spoke, feeling for one in his life shy. It was not such a bad experience as it was humbling.
"Well I am glad that you have come! It has been too long since a suitor has dared to show their face - I only hope you finish all six tasks." The Chieftain roared with humor as he promptly had a page boy come and take Mathias' sword from his belt and hold his horses bridle.
Mathias squared his jaw and tried to take on a serous glint in his eyes. He failed miserably.
"I am ready to take up the challenge, yet I wonder why six is the number given?" Mathias spoke into the air as the Chieftain took Mathias unabashedly by his shoulder and led him over a maze of icy puddles that cracked loudly from the weight of the Chieftains heavy boots and weight.
"Aye. My boy is a stubborn one - six tasks, I know not why. But complete them all ad ye' both shall be together. Ah. But, of course, the dowry as well." The King colored his face from embarrassment at such a silly dowry price from his son, for it was quiet ridiculous and timid all the same.
Mathias nodded vigorously, lips curled into a smile as he gestured grandly to his horse and pack.
"Why yes, I have the dowry - my horse is laden with it." His chilled fingers motioned to the great woven baskets hung drooping at each side of his weary horses flanks. The cows behind the tired animal dipped their heads to the iced puddles and licked at the frozen water with idle thirst. The flock of sheep and the ram skidded about frightfully around his horses stiff legs.
The King stroked his long orange beard, combing his thick and pudgy fingers through the coarse hair before he nodded, content with the bounty.
"So you have. Nikolas will be pleased. Come - come into the hall, the cold must be doing your legs and arms an awful wrong." He took up Mathias' shoulder once more in a friendly gesture before the two walked past the great awning of the cedar and pine castle. The grey large dogs trotted behind after the two, licking Mathias' fingers warmly.
This promised to be an easy trial, if he had ever saw one.
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So. Yeah. New story. I have all the chapters outlined so I should be update ding it real quick and fast. BUT I WILL WARN YOU. THERE IS BLOOD AHEAD. SEX TOO, BUT BLOOD A WELL. SO. YEAH. UM. COOL. REVIEW PLEASE!