Disclaimer: Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, who is clearly not me. See bottom for Historical Notes and recommended playlist.
Mathias paced through the foyer; jaw tense, fists clenched at his sides. His right hand twitched and reached for a weapon that wasn't there. He fought the urge to scream in frustration. The usually cheerful expression on his face was gone; replaced with rage and grief.
Unbeknownst to him, a small set of eyes was watching him from the hallway. The little Icelandic nation had heard the commotion earlier and made his way downstairs. His lip wobbled and his eyes began to water as he observed the distressed expression on his guardian's face.
"Dan?" his soft voice wavered as he spoke.
Mathias's expression instantly softened upon seeing the small boy.
"Come here, Emil." he spoke gently, beckoning the child towards him. Iceland stepped forward; his deep maroon tunic fluttering around him as he moved. Mathias held his arms out to the small nation and Emil automatically nestled into him. The warm embrace comforted both of them. The tall Dane took a deep breath and hugged the boy tighter; he held him for several minutes until the young nation's tears began to slow.
Tears dry, Emil looked up at his guardian.
"Are they going to take Storebror away, Danmark?" The boy's eyes were large and beginning to water once again Mathias's heart broke a little at the sight of him.
"Nej, Em." he spoke gently. "Do not worry; I will not let them take him away from us. I promise you."
"Why does he want him? Why does he want to take my brother away?" Emil's voice rose a bit and grew agitated. Mathias sensed his distress, and held him even tighter; cooing down at him.
"Shh, shh. Everything will be alright, little puffin." Emil was really crying now; tears streaming out of his beautiful amethyst eyes in large droplets. Mathias rocked him slowly and began to sing a Danish lullaby. Steadily, Emil's tears slowed until they stopped entirely.
Mathias set him down gently, and wiped away the glittering tear streaks on the boy's face. Emil sniffled.
"Takk, Far." he spoke softly. Mathias's cerulean eyes widened in surprise. It was not often that Emil spoke in Danish, and even rarer for him to call his guardian 'Father'. The nation had no biological father; only an older brother. He seemed to have adopted Mathias and his brother as his parents. The Norwegian had long since forbade him from referring to him as his mother; however he still seemed to call Mathias 'Far' on occasion.
"Emil," Mathias spoke gently, "Why don't you go find your bror for me?"
Iceland nodded eagerly and hugged Mathias one last time before scampering off down the hallway from which he came. Denmark smiled forlornly as Iceland's small form disappeared behind a corner. The weight of the earlier incident crashed down on his shoulders once again, and he stumbled back into an armchair behind him. The rage began to build back up inside of him without the presence of his charge to sedate it. He tried to calm his breathing with deep breaths. In and out. In and out.
His breaths slowed a bit. Closing his eyes, he fiddled with the silver cross that hung around his neck. In and out, he continued to chant internally.
The manor was quiet. He was accustomed to the clang of a keg on a wooden surface and barreling laughter that filled hallways with a barbaric sort of joy. The quiet irked him; it allowed him to think. Thought led to the return of memories purposefully forgotten. The smell of blood, the taste of iron, the sound of an anguished voice mourning the loss of a loved one.
Soft footsteps broke the dreaded silence and a single figure appeared in the archway. Mathias opened his mouth in order to speak the figure's name, but his throat was scratchy. Only a single strangled notice left his throat.
He swallowed. "Lukas."
The Norwegian stepped into the foyer. His steps were light and graceful; there was something almost feminine about his airy movement. The Dane's tense shoulders relaxed a bit as he met Lukas's steady, unwavering gaze.
His long indigo tunic floated around him. It accented his thin figure extremely well. Most would find the Norwegian's stare intimidating; however to Mathias it was a source of comfort- a reminder of home.
Lukas said nothing as he stepped towards him. His pale blonde hair fell into his face; his irises highlighted by the matching shade of his tunic. The two nations held each other's gaze for merely seconds, yet those seconds felt as if they were hours. Mathias felt that he could stare into those eyes for the rest of his life. At long last, Norway broke the silence.
"He's coming." It was not a question, but a statement. His tone clearly regarded the situation as inevitable, and the apparent inevitability of the situation made Mathias uneasy. He refused to believe that it was meant to happen. His shoulders tensed once again.
"He won't get to you, Lukas." The Dane's abnormally serious tone nearly made the Norwegian flinch. "I will not let that happen; I promised Emil, and now I'm promising you."
Norway's face remained expressionless, but his eyes expressed everything he felt. Mathias could see the conflict in his gaze. Sadness, trust, and hope reflected in them. Then his eyes fell downward and he could only read one emotion; hopelessness.
"You're powerless against him, Dan." His voice held its usual monotonous tone; however Mathias could detect exasperation.
"No!" Denmark's voice rose suddenly. "No, no, NO!" he nearly screamed.
Lukas did not flinch when his voice rose. He did not react. He merely stepped forward and took the Dane into his arms. Mournful sobs shook Mathias's body. He clung to Lukas as if his life depended on it, yet perhaps it did. Lukas had always been in his life. He was the rock that Mathias depended on. Mathias was energetic and hardheaded and stubborn. Lukas was calm and cool and there.
Mathias didn't know how long he would last without that sort of stability in his life.
Lukas held him; running his fingers through those gravity-defying blonde locks and humming gently. The Dane's sobs began to cease and Lukas pulled his chin up. Their eyes met.
"Do not worry about me." he spoke steadily. "I will be alright. Berwald will not hurt me, Dan. You and I both know that."
Refusing to believe those words, Denmark shook his head.
"How the hell am I supposed to let that Swedish scum take you from me, Norge? I refuse to be forcibly parted from you! How will Emil cope with your absence? No! I refuse to let him take you away from me!"
"Mathias," Lukas said, voice now riddled with rare emotion, "you will be fine without me. I trust you to take care of my brother and raise him well while I am gone. You cannot expect to take care of me forever, Danmark. I am my own nation.
I have my duties and you have yours. You need to be strong for me, Mathias. You need to be strong for us. You need to be that Viking I've come to know over the centuries; strong, confident, and courageous. You will get along without me. You will get along just fine."
Mathias's chest felt tight with a strong emotion. He reached up and let his large, calloused hand rest on the Norwegian's soft cheek.
"I will be strong for you." Determination weaved itself into his words. "I will be strong for you, and accept defeat if I fail to protect you. I vowed to stand by your side during the Viking age, Lukas"
"And I yours, during the Kalmar Union." replied Lukas. "I have not broken that promise yet, and neither have you."
Mathias took Lukas's hand into his and weaved their fingers together.
"I vow to do my best to protect you, Norge." spoke Denmark. "And if I fail, and my axe falls at Berwald's hand, I promise to guard your brother with my life. And no matter what, Luke, if he takes you away from me, I will do everything within my power to free you. You will be free to do whatever you wish. If that wish is to stay with me, I will receive you with open arms. If that wish is to travel or to stay by yourself, I will encourage and support you. Your wish is my command."
The Norwegian nation's eyes were filled with still more of that rare emotion. Even rarer tears collected in his eyes. A bittersweet combination of joy and sadness surrounded the couple. Lukas could only bring himself to throw himself into the Dane's warm, comforting arms. They stayed that way for hours in each other's arms, singing and telling stories; dreading the day on which they would be forced apart.
Emil came upon his guardian's dozing together on a large sofa in the foyer. He smiled softly at the peaceful expression on his brother's normally stoic face. He then giggled into his hand when he saw the goofy grin on Denmark's.
Feeling the fatigue and stress of the day's weigh down on him, he curled up between the two of them and shut his eyes. Mathias's arm instinctively wrapped around the small boy. Emil was comfortably situated in between his guardian nations as he drifted off into a peaceful slumber filled with images of faeries and trolls; his dreams were reenacting the fairytales and fantastical stories his older brother told him every night whilst tucking him in.
The small family slumbered on peacefully; comfortably nestled together on the sofa in the foyer.
They believed that their time as a family was coming to an end. Mathias was even more clingy, Lukas was unnaturally affectionate, and Emil, sensing his guardians' urgency, was even more eager to picnic in the wood or go riding in the meadow just beyond the stone fortress where the Danish royalty resided. They curled up together every night. Mathias constantly found excuses to leave meetings of lesser importance or avoid social functions. They hoped and prayed for the peace that had befallen their lives to last.
Lukas sat with his legs folded under him. He rested on a blanket, which was sprawled across the grass under him. The remnants of their afternoon luncheon were stacked neatly beside him. Lukas's posture was relaxed as he watched his younger brother frolic among among the wildflowers. Spring was now upon them, and the day was beautiful. The sun beamed in a brilliant azure sky that lacked any clouds. The somewhat-snow capped mountains rose above the tree line in the distance and stood tall; guarding the land beyond them.
Lukas could clearly picture the days he, Mathias, and Berwald had spent in those very mountains during a time where battle was relished in and times were simpler. He pictured a meadow and heard the cry of a child as he ventured behind a waterfall in a new land where he came upon an infant with white hair. He felt the joy he had felt in his chest when the infant smiled at him for the first time.
The Norwegian's eyes swam with these memories as he watched his brother play.
A pair of of strong arms looped around his waist, and pulled him into a warm chest. His eyes widened and he looked behind him to see Mathias beaming down at him, smile as bright as the sun above.
He grinned down goofily for a minute, then bent his head down slightly and pressed a feather-like kiss to the Norwegian's cheek. Lukas's cheek grew warm under the kiss, and he flushed a pretty shade of pink.
Norway let his head rest on Denmark's shoulder. He closed his eyes and breathed the crisp spring air in slowly. Adjusting the skirt of his violet tunic, he looked up and saw Emil twirling and giggling in a matching maroon one. The Icelandic boy caught his brother's eye and smiled impossibly wider. He glanced at Mathias, and giggled into his palm at the romantic scene. Suddenly, his eyes flashed in recognition. He ran forward and threw himself into Lukas's lap, who caught him with little difficulty. Mathias ruffled the Icelandic boy's pale hair affectionately.
"What is it, Ice?" questioned the Dane.
"Oh!" replied Iceland jovially. He clambered back out of his brother's lap and fetched a large black object from next to their picnic basket. Eyes alight with anticipation and innocence, he put the object in Lukas's lap.
Lukas looked at his brother curiously. "Emil?" he addressed softly.
Emil looked at his lap shyly. "Will you play for us, Storebror?" Mathias picked Emil up and put him in his lap.
"Come on, Lu!" he encouraged.
Rolling his eyes at the nickname, Norway let a smile grace his fae-like features before reaching down to retrieve the case. He gently lifted the latch, and the top popped open with a soft click. Lukas then began to empty the contents inside.
First came a long bow, carved and polished to perfection. The horsehair was a stunning white. He set the bow down carefully and reached inside again. Next, he lifted a gorgeous violin out of the cases the wood was a burnt oak etched with dark lines that indicated the age of the tree that it had been carved from. The silver strings gleamed in the sunlight; pulled taut over the opaque fingerboard.
Emil squealed in delight upon seeing the glorious instrument. He jumped out of Mathias's lap excitedly, and marveled at it. Lukas smiled softly down at him.
Denmark's eyes sparkled at the two as Lukas showed his brother the details of the instrument. He wished he could freeze this moment in time and paint it. The sky, the flowers, the Norwegian's expression- he wanted the image so that he could have it with him forever.
Norway paused in his demonstration. Tilting his head, he glanced back at the Danish nation curiously. He tapped Emil and bent down to whisper in his ear. A brilliant smile spread over Iceland's face. He sprinted towards Denmark and snatched his hand; tugging him towards Lukas. Emil paused when they reached him, and waited in eager anticipation. Lukas met Mathias's eyes and raised his instrument.
Bow met string, and the first note echoed throughout the meadow- a familiar chord that the elder nations knew all too well. Note after note weaved together to form the melody of a Norwegian folk song; the tune was spritely and cheerful. To the young Icelander's surprise, Denmark began to sing after the intro- in Norwegian. The boy stared in awe as the two harmonized, voice and instrument coming together to create what Emil could only describe as magic.
Still singing, Denmark took his charge's small, pale hand into his much larger one. He grabbed both hands in his and spun him around once. Their arms weaved together, and they skipped to the left; then to the right. Mathias twirled Emil about; both of them grinning widely. Emil eventually caught on to the chorus and sang along. Each movement perfectly matched the beat of the music. The pace slowed, then quickened, then began to rapidly increase before slowing to a graceful stop.
Denmark and Iceland fell to the floor; exhausted but laughing. Norway let his vibrado ebb off, and lifted his bow from the string. He graced both dancers with a delicate smile.
"Norge," Mathias said breathlessly after cooling down for a moment, "will you play Alvedansen for us?" He panted in between words. The stoic Norwegian arched a single blonde eyebrow.
Mathias's baby blues widened like a puppy's. He pouted dramatically, and stared at the Norwegian's now-flushed face. He could never resist that expression, and the Dane very well knew it. So, Lukas turned his head to the side in order to avoid the gaze.
Lukas felt another pair of eyes on him. Glancing back hesitantly, he was surprised to find two pairs of eyes on him. Norway's face flushed- his constitution allowed him to avoid the Dane's gaze; however the combined forces of the Danish and Icelandic nations was a truly daunting prospect.
He attempted to fight it, but his attempt was futile. He just couldn't resist the puppy-dog eyes.
Almost hesitantly, he raised his bow to the strings (though not before sending a glare in his Danish counterpart's direction), and began playing yet again.
This tune was slower than the first; it was airy and mysterious. It gave off a rather supernatural vibe; drawing the listeners in and keeping them in its irresistible clutches.
Mathias wrapped an arm around Emil's small frame, and they watched in silence and awe. Emil had quickly concluded that this was his favorite song thus far upon hearing the first note; he subconsciously leaned forward a slight bit to watch the performance closely.
Lukas's eyes were closed. His fingers danced across the fingerboard; his hand shifted up and down rapidly, yet no note was at all off pitch.
Mathias was watching and listening with a serious intensity. He put more focus into watching the Norwegian than he did most activities. The ease and skill with which the violinist played his instrument fascinated him and never failed to draw him in.
Said violinist was off in his own land of freedom and fantasy. He played and swayed to the music as if no one was watching.
The elder half of his audience began to drift off as well; his eyes now had a faraway look to them, and his irises were a sea of memories.
In that moment, Mathias wished for the skill to play an instrument of his own, so that he could join the beautiful violinist in his breathtaking performance.
Lukas ended the song with a long note; skillfully ending it with a decrescendo and a delicate flair to his vibrato. He bid goodbye to his fantasy and opened his eyes; returning to reality once more.
The small Icelander leapt up; eyes wide and filled with wonder. He began to enthusiastically applaud the performance. His brother blushed at the extravagant sentiment.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" exclaimed Emil excitedly. "Oh, that was so incredible! Will you teach me how to play, Storebror? I loved that song so much!" Emil continued to babble on while Lukas nodded and complied to his brother's wishes.
"Ja, Lillebror. I will teach you- but only if you behave yourself."
The young nation threw himself into his brother and hugged him around the waist with glee.
"I will, I will! I promise!"
Denmark removed himself from his position on the blanket and got to his feet. He took Emil by the waist and lifted him into the air suddenly; earning a gasp of surprise from the boy.
Emil shrieked ecstatically as Mathias slung him onto his shoulders.
"Fly, Puffin, fly!" cried the Dane. Emil cawed like a bird and spread his arms out to mimic a set of wings. Meanwhile, Lukas bent down to secure the precious instrument into its case. Standing gracefully, he rolled his eyes at the spectacle.
Mathias paused and let Emil down from his perch. The Icelander squawked in disapproval. The Dane ignored the boy's protests and set his eyes upon his new prey- Norway.
The violinist was nonchalantly folding their unused napkins, and didn't notice the predator sneaking up behind him. He barely had time to react before he was pulled up, lifted, and slung over the Dane's broad shoulder.
A feminine squeak escaped his lips- he stared blankly for a moment before registering what the Dane had oh-so-unceremoniously done.
"DANMARK!" he screeched, pounding on the taller nation's back. Denmark gave him no recognition; he instead carried small man towards the edge of the wood; beckoning for Emil to follow them. The young Icelander followed obediently; seemingly used to this sort of spectacle. He followed the now cackling Dane; twirling a yellow wildflower between his pale fingers and humming quietly to himself.
Norway continued to protest verbally as well as physically; glaring at the Dane's (admittedly nice) backside.
"Put me down NOW!" yelled Lukas, who else growing weary from protesting against the Dane's antics.
Mathias suddenly paused, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.
"Oh?" he questioned. "What will I get in return for setting you free, Norge?"
The Norwegian 'harrumphed' and groaned.
Denmark finally responded to Norway's request- though perhaps not in the way Lukas suspected. He quickly flipped the Norwegian until he held him bridal-style; then proceeded to twirl him around. The skirt of Lukas's tunic fluttered around him.
"DAN!" yelled the Norwegian; who was clearly unamused with the elder's antics.
The Dane cackled at the glare that was sent his way. Finally giving in, he set the blonde down.
Lukas crossed his arms and glared at his captor harshly. Said glare only earned him a cocky grin from Mathias.
"Well, I set you down," urged Mathias, "so how about my reward?" He tapped his cheek and leaned forward, wiggling his eyes suggestively.
This earned him a slap from the grumpy Norwegian; however his spirits were not dampened (this was an ordinary occurrence).
"Come on, Norge!" The Dane pouted yet again.
Lukas rolled his eyes at the nation's stupidity; then pulled the taller man down by the collar, and pressed their lips together. The Dane's eyes widened into saucers. He blinked once, then wrapped his arms around the Norwegian's waist and twirled him in a circle, kissing back enthusiastically. Slowly, Lukas disconnected their lips and opened his eyes. Mathias followed his example; grinning widely down at the Norwegian. Lukas rolled his eyes, and flipped around quickly.
"Emil?" he called, suddenly worried for his younger brother's safety.
Emil chose that moment to hobble out from behind a tree. Lukas gently reprimanded him and took his hand, leading him back to their picnic sight.
Lukas turned around to meet Mathias's azure gaze. He blushed a deep shade of reddish-pink and ducked his head shyly. Mathias grinned at the expression, and followed with a slight skip in his step.
The three Scandinavians packed up the remainder of their picnic and headed back home.
As the clock struck one, there came a crash from the foyer that reverberated throughout the stone walls of the fortress. Denmark startled from his sleep and immediately sprung into action, hastily shrugging on his armor, and reaching for his trusty battle axe. Weapon in hand, he ran into the hallway and down the corridor.
They were there, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He flew to Lukas's room, and burst through the door to encounter the Norwegian; who had awoken from the disturbance downstairs. He was clutching his brother to his chest, and reaching for the dagger on his nightstand. Mathias rushed forward, and pulled Lukas towards him by the arm.
"They're here." Lukas's voice was as calm and collected as ever. Mathias swallowed with some difficulty and nodded.
"Lukas." he spoke. Reaching for the chain around his neck, he pulled it from under his chest plate. With a short tug, he yanked it from around his neck somewhat harshly; and then offered it to Lukas. The silver cross that hung from the chain was beautifully engraved with entwining vines. Norway's eyes widened at the offering.
"Dan... I cannot take this."
Mathias smiled gently and slid the cross off of its chain. He brushed the bangs back from the left side of the Norwegian's face, and slid the cross into his hair; successfully pinning it into place away from his eyes.
Mathias's hand slid from his hairline to his pale cheek.
"Norge." They held each other's gaze. "Lukas, Luke, Lu."
Lukas looked down at Emil, who was staring curiously at his guardians, and then looked back up.
"Jeg elsker deg." he whispered softly. A wide, joyous grin made its way across the Dane's face when he heard those three words.
He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to Lukas's brow. Lukas closed his eyes, and suddenly it was gone. Mathias proceeded to bend down even farther, and pressed a lighter kiss to the top of Emil's head. He then stepped back; the grin melting off of his face.
Reaching for his abandoned axe, brow set in determination, he retreated out of the room. Glancing back one last time at the brothers, he took in the sight of Norway standing protectively in front of aide land, sword and dagger in hand.
A nod, and the door shut. Denmark took position in front of the doorway. Setting a cocky smile upon his lips, he balanced the axe against his hip and waited.
Men fell. Artifacts and ornaments were throws from their positions. He heard every smash against the floor, and every cry of a charging man below him.
The arched door slammed open with a harsh crack against the stone wall. A stone-faced man emerged from the archway, and Mathias could see the determined gleam in his eye.
"Mathias." the man said through his thick Swedish accent.
Green irises met blue, and the two personifications sized each other up. Despite the knot in his throat Denmark forced the confident expression to remain on his face.
"We don't have to fight." said the Swede diplomatically.
Mathias boiled. He thought that Mathias would just give him over?
Well, thought Mathias, you were wrong, you damn Swede. Overcome with a new sense of duty, the Dane charged first.
Steel met steel with a clang that echoed throughout the fortress. Mathias let out a mighty cry as they broke apart and thrust his beloved axe towards Sweden's head. The second attack was deflected again by the Swede's long staff. Though both appeared as though their movements would be brute and heavy, yet both danced with an otherworldly grace. Their parries were swifter than that of any human's, and their senses were sharper.
The two Nordic kingdoms seemed to be evenly matched; however Mathias was tiring quickly, and they both knew it. Still he fought on; an image of the brothers he was so adamantly protecting instilled in his brain.
The nation's recent fall from power began to reflect in his movements. His attacks gradually became less graceful, and he reverted to a more defensive fighting style. Sweden had recently been expanding and gaining power in the north, he had taken Finland and expanded his kingdom farther south since rebelling against Denmark's rule. Mathias could tell that his strength had multiplied since he left. The Swede was faster than before, and each blow seemed to increase in strength. He had a sudden flashback- the Swede was shorter now, and lanky rather than broad; he was draped in furs and linens instead of gold and velvet.
Mathias knew that those simple yet wonderful times would never return. Wealth and power had invaded the north; infecting the minds of the two adversaries. Mathias, in that moment, wondered if al of those things- riches, power, influence- were worth this. He reflected on his own mistakes, and decided that this conflict between them evidently was his fault; that he had been the one who had succumbed to the contagious disease- the very disease that Berwald had seemed to catch, and from him, no less.
Here Mathias stood, facing and intending to spill the blood of his best friend in order to keep the nation he loved.
Sweden took advantage of the slight hesitation on Mathias's part. His arm swung, fist colliding with Mathias's jaw; knocking him to the floor. His boot met the Dane's ribcage; causing the former Viking to grunt in pain.
The Swede strode forward and kicked the wooden door between him and his prize down. After seeing the Dane's state, he made a decision- the Dane was weak. It would not be at all difficult for the Swede to take both brothers under his rule.
Meanwhile, Mathias managed to pull himself up by his elbows. He struggled to his feet and followed the Swede as swiftly as he could manage; leaning against his axe for support. He cursed his former friend's name upon catching up to him in the room where Norway was protecting Iceland.
"Come with me, Lukas." the Swedish nation offered, holding his arm out to the Norwegian.
Lukas did not reply. He only stared back defiantly and pulled Emil closer, who was clinging nervously to his leg; obviously frightened by the shouting and men with weapons.
Mathias swung at Berwald while he was distracted, yet the Swede was somehow still able to deflect the blow. Denmark swore under his breath and stood at his full height; ignoring the pain in his side.
Growling, Sweden turned around. He shoved Den's axe to the side, and let his staff smash into the Dane's injured side. Teeth clenched, Mathias grabbed his side.
"It'll take a little more than that to knock me down, you Swedish bastard." The taunt only encouraged Sweden once more. Mathias took hit after hit without going down.
The Swede eventually grew tired of attacking him, and he signaled his men. Two Swedish soldiers were able to restrain Denmark in his weakened state.
"Dan!" yelled Norway, who was holding onto Iceland; surrounded by soldiers. He gently set the little nation down and faced Sweden.
"Stop this madness, Berwald!" he said forcibly; his tone intimidating the soldiers around him. Berwald merely shook his head.
"You can come with me, Lukas. You and Iceland." Lukas narrowed his eyes and sneered at his childhood friend.
"Nei. You will not touch him."
Sweden stepped forward. Lukas closed his eyes and mumbled something inaudible in Old Norse. Berwald continued to advance forward and reached out to take Lukas's arm.
Norway knocked his arm away and held his weapon in ready position. The soldiers ran to restrain the personification; however they were thrown back by an invisible shield. They all crumpled to the ground in undignified heaps; falling unconscious upon impact.
Mathias's eyes widened in hope at the outlandish display.
Lukas used his magic in an attempt to push Sweden back. Berwald had spent much of his younger years training with and sparring Lukas; enabling him to deflect the blast with his staff. Norway knew that he was at a physical disadvantage. His government was part of Mathias's, and he too was feeling the affects of loss (though it had not weakened him as much as it had Denmark). His sorcery, however, was a part of him- his land, his people, and culture. With his magic, he was an even match to Berwald.
Sweden struggled significantly more affine Norway's sorcery than Mathias's axe. He knew that it would take more than pure force to conquer the spunky Norwegian.
"Bróðir!" a small voice cried from behind him. Lukas turned around to see one of Sweden's conscious men carrying Iceland. His rage multiplied, and he turned back towards Sweden with fire in his eyes.
His mouth opened, but he stopped mid-incantation when Sweden held an arm out. The soldier carrying Iceland unsheathed his sword. Sweden's eyes held a bit of guilt as he stared at the livid Norwegian.
"Come with us, Norway."
The message was clear. Lukas lowered his arms and dropped his weapons.
"Please," said Norway in a soft voice. He almost seemed scared. "Let him go, and I will go with you.
He had been defeated.
The soldier let Iceland go; the island nation was now shaking in fear.
Norway closed his eyes. The bottom of Sweden's staff met his temple, and he crumpled to the ground in a manner similar to that of the unconscious soldiers sprawled around him.
Denmark screamed in rage, breaking free from the restraints. He threw himself at Sweden fruitlessly.
Sweden slung Lukas over his shoulder and proceeded out of the room. Mathias watched in horror as his former friend dragged the normally feisty Norwegian out of the room. He could not move.
He had lost so much in these past years- his influence, his best friends, his honor- yet he had kept going with a smile on his face. Now Lukas, the only thing he had to keep him together, was gone.
Everything crashed down on him at once, and he broke down; sobbing and slamming his fist angrily onto the stone floor. His knuckles split and blood trickled down his hand- he did not notice.
Hearing a whimper beside him, he ceased his sobbing. Little Iceland was crying with him; terrified and distressed from the loss of his older brother.
Seeing his innocent form shaking in anguish, Mathias internally slapped himself. He had to be strong for Iceland in the absence of Norway- he held out his arms and the young Icelander leaped into him, crying into his tunic. He embraced and comforted the boy, whispering to him softly. He soothingly began to sing a Norwegian lullaby; the exact lullaby that Lukas often sang to Emil when the child could not sleep. Emil seemed to automatically relax after hearing the opening bars, and soon he was fast asleep in Mathias's lap from pure exhaustion.
The lullaby finished and he looked out the window at the Danish wilderness. He recalled his promise to Norway- I will do everything in my power to free you.
Mathias knew that Lukas would have even less freedom than he had had at the end of the Kalmar Union. What use did Berwald have for him other than to parade him around like a trophy to compensate his defeat of Denmark? Lukas would be caught in an iron cage disguised as a treaty and unity and politics.
Mathias fully intended to keep his promise.
I promise, my love, you will be free.
Historical Notes: While this one-shot is meant to be purely fictional, there is some historical backstory to my imagination of this event. The Kalmar Union, the union between the Nordic nations under Denmark's rule, ended in 1536 when the Swedes became unhappy with Danish rule. Sweden and Finland separated from the others into Sweden. Denmark, Norway and Iceland created their own Union called Denmark-Norway. In 1814, Denmark was forced to give Norway to Sweden through the Treaty of Kiel.
The time period that I portrayed during the story happens to be earlier than the nineteenth century, only because that was the way I imagined it in my head. Besides, imagining this event happening in a more medieval setting is somehow more fun!
Author's Note: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story and that I just maybe evoked some emotions. Honestly, while writing little Iceland, I can't help but wonder what happened between then and now... He used to be so sweet... Anyways, if you're interested, I imagined Norway's first song to be Roll With The Wind by Alexander Rybak (translated into Norwegian, since the song is in English), and the second song played was a violin arrangement of Alvedansen by Christine Guldbrandsen.
Running Playlist: Síðasta Kveðjan by Árstíðir (M, L, E) Roll With The Wind by Alexander Rybak (M+L), Alvedansen by Christine Guldbrandsen (L), In Scandinavia by Runrig (L, M, B), My Disaster by Seether (M v. B), Hurra by Nephew (M)