A Huldra at Helgeå
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The river Helgeå, England wouldn't be able to tell you what it normally looked like. She's positive it usually doesn't look any less scary as it does when they sit beside it; after all she's told its land that belongs to Sweden… Denmark now, so it has to be as terrifying looking as he is.
Logs of wood were flushed down the river, it had been a dam. Norway had learnt of their plans, of their attack, the fairies must have told him. He and Sweden had set up a dam, planned to drown her and Denmark. They were in the same ship as their King Canute- he had often told England to call him Cnut, but she had seen no problem in adding a couple more vowels to his hard to pronounce name and others had jokingly joined her until no one could really remember what his real name was. Their ship had been strong, their ship had been long, 80 meters long and Denmark's and her people had been strong.
When they saw Sweden standing with Norway their people surrounding them, England had thought something was wrong, why you stand waiting for the enemy- she had went to turn and say something to Denmark; she had sat huddled in a ball between his legs, but his eyes stared ahead at his two Viking brothers, his family- a deadly and dangerous flame burning behind his ice-cold gaze: England froze in fear, she remembered the possessive gaze well.
Sweden chopped the dam apart and the water had bled from behind the wooden logs. Slowly at first, an anticlimactic trickle, as though the water was the wood's blood and it had only attained a scratch, then the cut burst and the wood's blood poured fast and England's eyes widened at the thought- is that how a person would bleed to death? Would a small cut turn into gushes of blood? She didn't want to know- she vowed she wouldn't get a cut through this battle- she wouldn't die in that way.
One of Denmark's strong arms had wrapped around her tiny waist. He looked about the age of eighteen- the clear signs of manhood appearing on him, blonde whiskers ran along his chin- annoying to rub against she noted when she had tried to slap him when he had made a remark about her not growing any since he had met her last. She knew him back when he was smaller, when they were the same height- the last time he had tried to take over, she had run from him from one side of her land to the other, where she met Norway- his "best" friend. She had been trapped between the two until Alfred saved her, but he never gave up and when he came back she was still the physical age of eleven and he looked seven years older… he still seemingly acted the same… other than his sudden obsession with the female anatomy.
As the water fought against them- Denmark laughed as their ship rode over the wave, their men kept on even with the threat of death over their heads. England choked, spluttered and cried- Denmark knew she couldn't swim, he had pushed her in the water more than enough to know, but he just kept his eyes trained forward like any good warrior and the only conscious effort to keep her alive was wrap his arm around her waist to stop her falling overboard.
She hears Canute yell something encouraging but all she can hear is the rushing water, the smash as some ships can't keep up against the tides, the agonising screams of death, or what should be screams, but are gurgles as their owns are sunk head deep in water- England doesn't know if she'd like to die that way, it seems more honourable, the water making you unable to scream, but she remembers the "bed time stories" Scotland would tell her of witches being drowned… she doesn't want to die drowning either she decides.
She remembers making it past the freed water, remembers Denmark's arm leaving her and the squelch of his boots against the muddy surface, remembers the clash of swords and Denmark winning, remembers the after party, remembers watching Denmark talk to his captured brothers, Norway doesn't have chains wrapped around him everywhere like Sweden, because he's Denmark's "best" friend. And she definitely remembers Denmark promising they'd leave as soon as possible when she said she felt terrified of the broken woodlands that crept over their campsite like looming hands.
No one else notices the woodlands unsettling behaviour, the eerie light that creeps from between the branches at night. There's something not right about them, she notices… Norway tells her it's not strange, but she insists there's something wrong and the slightly older, slightly taller Nation takes out his hair clip, his beautiful golden locks falling into his eyes, mutters a charm into the clip and pulls her hair from one side of her face into it… she feels slightly better, but she still knows there's something wrong.
It's when Denmark, the Nation that was impossible to escape from, the Nation who would chase you to the ends of the world, the Nation who could annoy even her calm brother Wales into the most annoyed anger seen, doesn't follow her around, ask her what she's doing and how she's feeling every other minute that she notices what the woods seem to be after. Denmark: her Viking ruler, Norway's Viking ruler and some of Sweden's Viking ruler.
She doesn't know why but his disappearance unsettles her, she wished for a world without him and now she has it a chance to escape… she doesn't have a chance to escape and she knows it. She admitted it to herself the other day; it was an accident a moment of weakness when Denmark first said he was going to fight this battle, before he explained she was going with him- she had blurted out how she liked him, how she didn't want to be on her own anymore.
A moment of weakness, a moment of truth that resulted in her being teased mercilessly, to come with Denmark on her first big "sea adventure" as he dubbed, the first of many for her, but neither of them know that yet.
She carefully approaches Canute. He's with some other Vikings: talking. She nudges herself slowly, little steps, into Canute's leg, it's her way of demanding his attention when he's talking, she used to scream until he listened, she likes him more now though.
"England," he hums looking down at her, he'd usually pick her up so they're eye level but she shakes her head no to it.
"Where's Denmark?" She asks, trying to sound uncaring, but why would you ask if you didn't care?
"He wandered into the woods, said he was looking for more fire wood," Canute explained and England tries to keep the panic out of her eyes when he adds the question: "why?"
"No reason," she shrugs and everyone just puts it down to her being tired, bored and lonely, but when she's slugged herself away and she's out of watching distance she runs- straight into the wood… Straight to help Denmark from whatever danger he's in…
She'd die for someone she likes, she decides…
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It's cold. She shivers.
It's dark. She squints.
It's silent. She sniffles.
It's lonely. She cries.
"Denmark?" She calls lightly, she doesn't want to be caught- she doesn't want anyone to know she's here, what weird creatures dwell in Sweden's woods? Something scary she's sure.
She hears the laughter of a woman. The chuckle of a man. Denmark…
She carefully treads towards the laughter. It's a clear opening, flowers littering the floor, a seemingly unnatural light spotlighting the area. In the middle Denmark lies stripped, a woman stretched out on top of him kisses his neck and the top of his chest, her hands roam everywhere, his hands stay at her sides though they look desperate to roam, to claim- "that's the way of a Viking" he would usually cheer, but he doesn't… by her orders? England wonders.
She had beautiful curly red hair that rolls to her shoulders, a long delicate face like a fox, a slim womanly figure. She looks like a perfect woman, but there's a tail… a fox's tail at the base of her back, flutters slowly, it almost looks like some clothes, but England's emerald eyes see how it's attached to the fox ladies' back and there's a hole… a large gaping hole, like a rotten tree stump, moss gathered on the edges, splinters trickled out and England could see the witches heart, lungs and bones and…
She hides behind a tree and tries to stop herself from retching, what was that creature… the one who's seducing Denmark… does he know? Was the womanly figure too much for him to handle? Was she keeping it from him? Is that why he wasn't allowed to move his hands from her waist? Did he just like women with holes in their backs?
"Den… Denmark?" She gulps and calls out, the sudden sound of the two moving together, the two sleeping together stops.
"England?" She hears Denmark's voice call back. "What are you doing out here?"
An emerald eye peeps out at him, tries to ignore the gaping hole in the back of the fox woman's back, and focuses on cool blue eyes. England doesn't reply, just stares at the blue eyes she likes, the blue eyes she can trust.
Denmark tugs his trousers back on. Not all the way up, not back on properly- easily to pull off- the way a warrior's clothes should never be, like that they could be a hazard. The fox woman moans, why was the Viking leaving, but Denmark mutters something in her ear that makes her giggle and she turns around watching Denmark, her back turned to them both as Denmark goes over to the tree England hides behind.
"England?"
"Looking for you," England mutters quietly, she feels sick looking at that back for so long, she wants to leave already, to leave with Denmark of course. "Was worried." And admitting that… surely Denmark knew how hard it was for her to say that…?
Only he doesn't, because he grins, pats the top of her head and tells her to go back. He's fine and he wants to have a little more fun, he'll be back later and England has only one more defence…
"She has a hole in her back!" She screams, loud enough for the lady to hear. "And a tail and… and she's not right!"
Denmark turns back to the fox lady, apologises for England's misbehaviour and then turns to England eyes sharp.
"You shouldn't lie England… it only hurts people in the end… just head back, ok?" And England's scared of the fierce Viking eyes as usual and is terrified of what will happen to Denmark if she does leave… and sad… why wasn't she trusted enough?
She runs back to the camp- tears threatening to build up in her eyes, why couldn't she be trusted?
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"She had a hole in her back like a tree trunk!" She had finished relaying to Norway earlier, just after she had left Denmark, just after she had been put into the group labelled as liar.
Norway's eyes had gone large and he mutters one simple word before running off.
"Huldra."
Norway returns latter, a tattered Denmark in his arms, Denmark apologises to her, sorry he never believed her, he's sorry he never trusted her, he's SO thankful she came looking for him, that she tried to save him, that she got Norway.
"How about we get hand fasted!" Denmark cheers, his old normal grinning self coming out, England looks confused, Norway looks horrified. "Then I'll always have someone to make sure I don't get in trouble!"
England blinks, she doesn't know what a hand fasted is, but she doesn't want to see Denmark hurt or in trouble again so she agrees. She'll keep him out of trouble.
Of course it's years later, the tides that are just simply life pit them against each other a lot of the time, if anything England caused Denmark the most trouble in the world: is at fault for ending Denmark's Empire, she'd argue she saved him from bankruptcy, he'd say it was for her own gain.
They were the days of the past though, a strange childhood, a strange promise, a marriage ceremony agreed upon but a girl who hadn't a clue and a millennium of arguing since. They talk in the EU meeting hall.
A hair clip with a Norwegian spell protecting it, pulling her hair from her eyes, a strip of fabric that had been used for a hand fasting ceremony pulling her hair into a loose bun. Their relationship was unique and England's not sure how it would turn out, so she wears two old promises in her hair, close to her mind- a reminder that their unique relationship…
Denmark grins and places a cheeky kiss to England's lips when she's not paying attention. She hits him for it, but he can't help but laugh at her flushed face and her weak hits.
… is far from over.
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This idea has plagued me for about a year and a half but I didn't want to write it, it was getting really annoying and I haven't written anything for a bit so thought why not and get this idea over and done with.
I REALLY don't like it… but I hope you all enjoy it; it's really just a couple of head cannons of mine to be honest- like female England's hair clips, etc. but oh well! Hope you enjoyed a little England-Denmark interaction… it could be done better, but oh well.
Also sorry for any mistakes, I haven't written properly in a while… by proper I mean a fic that isn't just snippets DX