Chapter One: A Small Fishing Town, A Lazy Man, and A Curse.
Once upon a time, in a world where magic was as common as stars in the sky, there lay a sleepy little fishing town by the sea. In this town, known simply as Little-Whirling-By-The-Sea, lived a fisherman with two sons. Both tall, blonde, and handsome, but as different as a fish and a bird.
The younger was a hardworking lad with eyes of glass-green, blessed with the face of Adonis yet cursed with the expression of always having consumed something sour. Whenever he did something, he did it with vigor and passion, earning him the admiration of his father as well as the other citizens of Little Whirling.
The elder, in contrast, was a horrendously lazy boy who would rather chase pigeons in the town square than help his father sell fish in the market. A shame, really, for he was a charismatic young man who could charm the stripes off of a tiger. He would often cause his brother and his poor father anguish without even realizing it.
Then, soon after one particular May Day, the fisherman passed away. The elder son, Mathias, wept bitterly, for he really did love his father, and in his pain became even more useless than before. This left his brother, Berwald, to swallow his sadness and arrange for the burial of the dear old fisherman.
By mid-June, things had finally calmed down. Berwald, now fourteen, left home to seek his fortune, leaving sixteen-year-old Mathias to hopefully inherit the family business. The younger didn't have to go far, however; he apprenticed himself to the town carpenter, who was thrilled by Berwald's talent and penchant for hard work, and, having no children of his own, treated him as his own flesh and blood. To add even more success to his considerable fortune, he ran into Tino Väinämöinen, the pretty, young son of the mayor while buying supplies at the market and fell head over heels in love.
They were married in a grand ceremony befitting the son of politician and the heir to a business, and it was at this wedding that Mathias, now a man of nineteen, realized with great disappointment that his life was going nowhere. He'd been surviving off of his father's trade, hauling fish in from the sea to be sold at market, but as the years passed, he noted that the supply of fish in the sea dwindled steadily and he failed to see why. Being a strapping young man, he hired himself out to do odd jobs as well, but he found no joy in it.
From his seat, he looked over Berwald and his new husband: happy, in love, and discussing plans for their new house, their love nest. Mathias suddenly felt an emptiness overtake him, one he attempted to chase away with food and drink.
"My, aren't you eating a lot?" tittered a voice behind him. Mathias whirled angrily, a drumstick clenched between sharp teeth, to see a young witch. She was beautiful: the evening sun glinted on her dark skin, the apples of her cheeks pushed up by a sly smile, her jet-black ringlets held in place with bright red ribbon. "Oh, you're the odd jobs man," she noted, still smirking.
"What's it to ya?" snapped Mathias, brandishing his drumstick like a sword.
The witch scowled. "You lazy excuse for a man, I'm here for my mother." She drew from the folds of her skirt a wand, tip glowing brightly with dangerous magic. "You're the one who did the shoddy job fixing up my poor mother's stairs!" she said angrily, "They broke on her, and when she fell, she broke her leg! It's all your fault, so I'm going to curse you."
"Awfully public place to curse someone, ain't it?" Mathias answered, rising. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"Not so fast," interrupted the witch, and with a flick of her wand, Mathias's hands felt inconceivably heavy. He looked down at them in pallid shock to find that they were turning into stone!
"Since you can't use your hands properly," the witch said lightly, "you might as well not use them at all." She turned to leave, then stopped. "Ah. Yeah. One last thing: if you talk about your curse to anyone, your hands will break. And then you'll have no hands!" she chuckled. "Good day, mister odd jobs." Then she was gone, having skipped away before Mathias could even scream.
The party continued around Mathias as if nothing had happened. Mathias forced down his feelings and glanced around. The music had started, and Berwald was now leading his pretty new husband onto the dance floor for their wedding dance. Mathias waited until the dance had ended before nudging Berwald into the corner of the food tent with his shoulders.
"What's wrong with ya?" Berwald asked, obviously irritated. All Mathias had to do was show him his stone hands, which he'd been hiding in the pockets of his suit trousers, and Berwald's annoyance turned into sympathy in the blink of an eye.
"I'm sorry it had to happen on such a happy day, brother," Mathias looked honestly regretful, "but I don't know who else to go to."
Suddenly, Berwald's new husband popped his head into the tent. "So that's where you went off to, love! You disappeared all of a sudden, I thought something happened, and…" his words trailed off upon seeing Mathias's stone hands. "Wh...what happened here?"
Mathias felt slight joy at having both his brother and his brother-in-law wrapped around his petrified pinkies, but the feeling was instantly squashed. "Tino, I got cursed, can't really talk about it or else bad things happen, but I need help. You know a little magic, don't you?"
Tino prodded at Mathias's hands. "Nowhere near enough to break a curse. What the hell got you into this in the first place?"
"Can't talk about it," reminded Mathias, almost rudely.
For the briefest moment, Tino looked like he wanted to slap his brother-in-law. Before anything could happen, Berwald cut in. "There's a powerful sorcerer," he began, "who lives at th' edge o' the town square. He might be able t' do ya good."
Mathias's face lit up. "That's right! Forgot about that guy!" He was about to race off when Tino caught him by the sleeve of his suit coat.
"Don't forget, you're supposed to give us a speech, best man."
XxX
Mathias wasn't able to visit the sorcerer noon the next day. While Berwald and Tino embarked on their honeymoon, Mathias called over an old friend of his, one of the few other people who could tolerate him, to help out.
He'd known Berg Huizinga since they were children, and even though he had minor sociopathic tendencies like charging Mathias a small fee for his help, Mathias trusted him with his life. So, that morning, Berg dressed him, cleaned him, fed him, and even escorted him to the Sorcerer's shop before leaving to attend to his own errands.
The Sorcerer's shop front was narrow, as if it had been stuffed between its neighbors. A simple wooden sign hung above the simple wooden door, letters in faded paint reading THE GRAND SORCERER NORGE.
Doesn't look so grand, thought Mathias as he knocked.
The door opened to reveal a teenage boy, several years younger than Mathias yet with a glint of brilliance in his pink eyes. His hair, an icy silver, was styled in the mop that most teenage boys seemed to be fond of.
"Leon, I-" he started tiredly. Upon seeing Mathias, his eyebrows shot to his hairline, and he immediately composed himself. "I'm sorry, but the Sorcerer Norge is out right now, so the shop's closed." He began to shut the door, but his effort was stopped by Mathias's foot wedged in front of the doorframe.
"This is urgent, couldn't ya call him? You're a wizard, right?" Mathias pleaded.
"An apprentice sorcerer," corrected the boy.
"Then ya know magic?"
The boy scratched his reddened cheek. "Well, I-"
"Great! Could ya help me out with somethin'?" Mathias edged his way into the shop and pulled off his glove, revealing his stone hand.
The boy jumped back. "That's quite a curse!" he exclaimed, peering at Mathias's petrified extremities. "Who did you anger to get such a curse put on you?"
It was Mathias's turn to look sheepish. "I can't give ya the details, part of the curse, but I can say that this was totally not my fault. I'm Mathias, by the way. Mathias Fishersson."
"Son of Rogen Fisher? Might you have a trade of your own?"
"Technically, I'm Mathias Fisher now, but nobody recognizes me as that…" he trailed off, realizing that he'd said too much.
If the boy noticed, he ignored it. "I'm Emil Steilsson." He closed the door behind Mathias. "Well, if you're already here, then you might as well wait for the Sorcerer Norge to come back. There's a chair by the window. Would you like something to drink?"
"Tea would be nice," answered Mathias, "do you know when the Sorcerer is coming back?"
Emil shrugged. "Sometimes he takes days," he said lightly, "I have a feeling you'll be lucky, though."
Mathias's luck came to fruition an hour later, when the wooden door swung open in a puff of black smoke. In stumbled a man, no older than Mathias, coughing and hacking and waving his arms frantically.
"Welcome home," greeted Emil, "you have a customer."
The smoke cleared, and Mathias saw that the man was quite good-looking, with sharp features, wavy blond hair, and eyes the same color as the sky on a starry night. His features were twisted into a frightening expression, and it took Mathias a moment to realize that he was just annoyed.
"What brings you here, sir?" he said politely, dusting off his robes and striding over to where Mathias sat.
"I've been cursed, see?" Mathias held out his hands. He took note on how the Sorcerer Norge moved: delicate and proud, as if he were a fairy marching on air.
The Sorcerer stopped short, eyes wide and lips trembling. Mathias had to strain to hear the tiny and terrified "no" that escaped his lips.
Mathias looked on imploringly. "Do you think you could help me?"
The Sorcerer shook his head. "I can't help you."
Emil nudged him in the side. "But, Lukas…" he whispered.
"I can't help you!" repeated the Sorcerer, this time in a roar. He took a deep, wheezing breath before adding, "I think it's time you left. Emil, please show him out." Without another word, the Sorcerer Norge stalked deeper into his home, leaving his apprentice and his customer stunned.
"There's your answer, I guess," said Emil, a hint of pity in his voice as he shuffled Mathias towards the front door. "I'm sorry about that. He's quite pleasant on most days. You're welcome to try again tomorrow."
Mathias shrugged. "Thank ya for your hospitality, though."
"You're really quite similar."
"Ya really think so?"
Emil nodded. "You might be able to win him over."
"I'll be back tomorrow, then!" Mathias grinned. He bid Emil goodbye and strode off to his own home, filled anew with hope. Emil watched him leave in silence.
"Very unlike you to turn away a customer," he said finally.
The Sorcerer Norge, seemingly appearing out of thin air, growled. "Not the first time."
"His curse looks a lot like yours, sir."
Norge growled again, fingers curling over his breast.
Emil sighed. "It's quite cold, isn't it?"
AN: Casually dipping my toe into a fantasy setting.
The names make no sense, either. I wanted occupation-based names, but then I couldn't think of names for Finland, Iceland, Netherlands, or Norway. Since Berwald and Mathias are blood brothers in this, they are both the fisherman's sons. Last names don't have much importance story-wise, anyway.
There will be pairings galore in this, but the main focus is DenNor. Plus the majority of pairings will be the stock popular ships lol
This story may end up very long. Thank you for your time and patience!
XOXO~