Welcome to the Second chapter! I know the last one was a bit iffy and not too good of an opening, but hopefully you will be pleased with the next. As I said before, there will be blood, so those who do not like such stories, you might want to move on. But it's only a little so don't pay too much mind. As I said, this is a gift, so Flo, I hope you're enjoying the story so far! I do not own Hetalia but I do own this story. This chapters song is "Antiokia" by Garmarna.
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The first thing Mathias did was raise his hands high in greeting as he drew himself into the grand hall.
"Hello, fair Lord! My name is Mathias! I have come to win your ha-"
"Have you the dowry?" Interrupted a stiff and irritable voice. The owner of the scoffing tone was rooted from atop a great wooden throne with reindeer hides draped and dipped to the floor in puddles of fur from the languid arms of his chair. Near the throne two great bodied hunting dogs panted and a long haired cat licked it's paws clean of a mouse's blood.
Mathias instantly recognized the blue draped Norwegian to be none other than Nikolas, Lord of the marshy and rain soaked lands around them. And he was staring right at him.
The Dane could very well do nothing but stutter in the imposing mans presence, drowned by the sight of stoic beauty that raised every hair on the nape of his neck.
"I…" He tried to force his good natured grin upon his face, tried to flash a smile of white teeth that always enticed good fortune his way. But before Mathias could even curl his lips into a flirtatious warm smile to melt Nikolas' own glare, the Norwegian spoke insistently again.
"Have you the dowry?" Nikolas huffed a second time, a displeased scowl encroaching upon his pale cold lips. "You may not compete against my trials for my hand if you do not have the dowry." He stated almost vehemently before Mathias found his tongue again from the depths of his tightening throat.
"Aye - Aye, I have it. I have it." The Dane woke to life as he reached for his horses bridle, the gnarled leather and metal a nice reassuring weight in his hands. Holding his mare steady with his left hand, with the right he worked quickly to un loop the folds and knots of the parcels bound to his saddle. As the first whale bone button was unlatched from a bolt of cloth, the head of a bawling lamb greeted the smoky stale air of the hall. Then, with a great heave, the guards themselves pushed and herded, swore and kicked a great flock of sheep forward onto the dirt and stone floor of the structure. The throng of dirty and soiled sheep skidded into the midst of the Chieftains lodge, all of them bawling and pissing themselves yellow from fright.
"A flock of ewe's, a ram, and a lamb." Mathias smiled as he held up the little curly haired lamb for Nikolas to see. The baby opened it's mouth to cry for her mother, her pink tongue as bright as a child's blush.
Nikolas sniffed his nose absently.
"And the others?" He pried, ignoring the sheep as they came closer to his and his fathers place at their chairs - his hunting dogs snapped at a pair of ewe's that began to encroached upon the royal sitting area.
Mathias' smile waved ever so slightly as he pulled forth the loose rope to the two cows. Both of the animals crooned lazily before they pressed their giant heads against Mathias' stomach, chewing lazily at his scuffed tunic.
"Two dairy cows, heavy with milk." Mathias patted the two speckled cows atop their coarse forelock. The two girls huffed warm air into the hall with appreciation, batting their eyes softly at the touch.
"And the others?" Nikolas hardly even spared the two large animals another glance as his gaze fell weightily on the Danes again. As if he was a grand and brutish dragon expecting tribute. Honey, pear wine, roasted boar - feed me, feed me, feed me!
Mathias could only do as he was asked, though with a bit of tension in his jaw. He tried his very best to not throw a glare Nikolas' way. It was a hard feat indeed.
However, as commanded by Lord Nikolas, Mathias picked with strong fingers, a second baskets wraps, bringing forth a swath of cloth. It was thick and heavy in his hands with thread as strong as any wool could produce.
"A tapestry of cloth woven by my mothers hands." He unraveled the bolt to show a beautiful scene of the Goddess Idun holding a basket brimming with apples. Nikolas mouth almost twitches a smile in admiration for the fine art.
"And the others?"
Mathias, before he could stop himself, let a small sigh of irritation run past his lips, but he is thankful that the sheep are making such a fuss that Nikolas could not have heard it. At least, he hoped so.
The next gift t be produced is a small cedar box rattling with thin bird bone sewing needles. "I have the needles, and," he paused before slinging a great heavy sword from it's leather scabbard at the side of his horse, "I have the blade, a wedding sword forged by my late father." Mathias twisted the pommel of the sword in his careful hands, watching the light from the great hearth in the middle of the room cast glints of silver about the walls. He smiled triumphantly.
"All these gifts I present to you." Mathias dipped in a crude bow before the young lord, his shawl tail being trampled on by the dirty hooves of a dusted ewe that past by him.
Nikolas sighed with grief, seeing that the dowry had been paid with little to no trouble at all for this young suitor. The Norwegian would now have to resort to breaking this man with his riddles and tasks. Didn't this stranger know that no one could ever possibly win the Norwegians hand? It would be breaking one of the greatest rules in all the land.
Nikolas closed his eyes softly in annoyance before he rose from his seat, catching the quick look of happiness over his fathers old yellowed eyes. The old man of course would be delighted for another suitor, another chance to have his son marry, a chance to retire his throne to a pair of wedded youths all dewy eyed in love.
Nikolas gritted his teeth together, feeling no love for this stranger, hardly even a prick of lust. This cheeky suitor would go down in flames, and he would be the one to light the pyre.
"I accept the dowry," Nikolas practically strangled the words from his throat, "yet keep them in your hands for a few moments longer. You shall need them for your coming tasks, each of which must be finished today while the sun is high." A small smile with malicious intent appeared upon the Norwegian face as he stared down at Mathias.
The Dane straightened himself out and grinned quite victoriously at the man he was sure he could woo as easily as an dog fetches a stick.
"Aye, fair lord - then grant me my first task." He spoke bravely, brashly.
Nikolas frowned with well hidden frustration at this show of audacity. Oh he would give this man the time of his life.
"Good sir, I am hungry. Find me a pinecone and pick for me ten seeds. One I shall eat, the other nine you will keep." He cooed coldly as he watched the Danes face molder with confusion at such a ridiculous task.
Mathias, after pondering the request, simply barked out a quick laugh.
"That is easy! I will be back in less than a minute!" Mathias grinned triumphantly as he was about to turn and carefully step his way back outside. He was sure he passed a great copse of pine trees before he entered the hall. To pick a ripe brown pine cone from the ground would be quite easy.
However, Nikolas' smug voice made him pause in his step.
"Oh sir, have I forgotten a most important matter? I wish not a ripe pine cone, nay. But one milky green will do just fine." Nikolas smiled wickedly, the curve of his lip showing bright white teeth the color of the moon.
Mathias' face fell as he looked back to the tree outside. It was tall and imposing, split and forked into two grand branches with prickly bark that would surely hurt his hands. He would bruise like an apple thrown upon the stoned floor.
However, sure enough, on top of the utmost bow sat a cluster of ripe stony green pinecones. He huffed in annoyance.
"You shall have your seeds." He grumbled, wishing to unfetter his tongue and lash the Lord with his venomous words. If he was to be tested, he would do his tasks with agitation. This Lord did not know who he was challenging. Mathias would not be thwarted by such a ridiculous request!
Mathias turned himself by the heel of his boot and made his way outward from the great warmth of the smoky hall to face the cold onslaught of the spring mist.
Nikolas raised himself, too, from his position and stepped lightly over the lanky bodies of his hounds. He picked his feet carefully as he followed, from a safe distance, the Dane that had titled himself most brawny and stupid.
It was when they reached the muddied path of the outside that the villagers began to gather with amusement, eager for a show.
Mathias turned swiftly to Nikolas with determination in his eyes. With fever, he spoke.
"I may use any part of the dowry to accomplish this task - am I right?"
Nikolas nodded slowly, wrapping himself in his fur wrap and cloak, feeling his pale cheeks bite pink as the winds howled about and around his ears. This Dane would break his neck like a fledgling pushed from it's rocky nest. He was sure of it.
The Dane nodded to his own self, letting those words sink into his thick head before he brought his fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle.
In an instant a low whiney was heard and Mathias horse, having broke free from the callous hands of the page boy that held her steady, trotted forward to greet her master with ears perked.
Nikolas' face soured.
"The horse was not apart of the dowry." He hissed, glaring at the flea gray hide of the mare.
Mathias grinned back at the Lords bewildered and angered face and laughed.
"Think of this horse as an early wedding present - from the groom to the groom!" Mathias beamed as he steadied his mount and, collecting his mothers tapestry from around his horses saddle, made his way to the grand pine trees. Nikolas could only huff and curse as he watched.
He stopped the well behaved animal at the foot of the tree, his horses withers barely reaching the beginning groove at the trunks.
By now a crowd, thick with dirty bodies had pressed about the tree and the Dane, placing bets about how the Dane would meet his death - by broken neck, bashed in head, or heart attack from the height. To say it did not make the Danes face grow red with agitation would be an understatement.
But soon, with teeth bared, Mathias had carefully stood up from his horses saddles and, with much effort on his part, steadily stood on top of his horses back.
As he swayed with the breathing of his animal, he carefully took hold of each end of his mothers beautiful tapestry and, though he hated to do it, wrapped the girth of the cloth round the tree. He tugged tight as his first foot heeled itself into the uneven bark of the tree. This was going to be one hell of a climb.
It took him a few minutes to catch his breath and steady his legs, so sore from riding they already were, but soon he had set himself a fine pace. Using both feet wedged and stuck between the split section of the tree, he was able to scale part way atop the grainy bark.
People began to cheer for him, giving loud whoops and shrieks. They exclaimed, this boy, this boy could be the one to break the spell, break the rules! This boy is it, the new Lord of our land, the husband of the land! And as Mathias lunged forward with straining arms, using the ripping cloth heave himself up further and further, he believed their chants. He believe he could do this, could achieve this one small task and conquer all the others. So, with a great boyish grin set upon his face that was entirely too haughty, Mathias made to grab at the cluster of pine cones just within his reach. His fingers, scrapped and bruised, wrists popping, brushed against the edges of the bark and then - his pants ripped.
Everyone up heaved in a roar laughter. Nikolas included.
"The boys trousers have ripped! Clean ripped!" Shouted a man with a thin face as his mouth hung low in a grin of delight. His wife next to him clapped her hands in amusement as she pointed at the dangling and now red faced Dane.
Mathias was for once thankful his tunic was long enough to cover his less desirably public parts. He only hoped his bared teeth and glaring eyes was enough to disperse the peals of laughter now chattering around the cold square.
He was wrong.
"Good sir - I hope you own another pair of trousers as I shall hate to see you walk around the village with such a horrendous rip in them!" Nikolas, teeth all sparkling in his smile, tutted with mocking mirth as he watched Mathias try and gather himself.
At the Lords words the Dane gritted his teeth tightly, feeling the tapestry already begin to tear under his weight and strain. He had but little time now before he fell and broke his neck.
"I should hope you like the trousers I am wearing now, lovely Lord, as they shall look quite becoming sprawled on your bedroom floor - your own breeches pooled about your ankles." Mathias flicked his tongue over his oncoming grin.
Nikolas, offend and embarrassed by the Danes comment, stuttered. His mouth opened and closed as his father simply laughed till his face was redder than his beard.
"He does not piss his pants in your presence but stings you like a nettle! What a brave and stupid man!" His father roared with delight. Nikolas turned an icy glare to the older man. His father only laughed harder, like a great big bear delighted with a pot of honey.
However, it wasn't long before Mathias fell to his feet upon the pebbled earth. His arm had painfully swatted the first pinecone, small and under ripe, to the ground. The Dane ignored his ripped pants and cold bared legs in favor of stomping over the muddied earth where his fingers closed upon the thorny pinecone. He then, without a wince from his lips, threw the great nut to the floor where the dirt met the flag stone.
The green flesh bruised and splintered some, the inside a blushing yellow.
Mathias picked it up without a word and began to peel it forth till the chips fell to the floor and his fingers bled from the pricking of the flesh. Drop after drop his blood ran from the tips of his fingers.
Nikolas could only gaze onward with cold eyes, the laughter pressed out of him as if a heavy stone had been laid flat against his chest. He felt like he could not breathe, the feeling of amazement at this man who would strip the seeds away until his fingers were raw and red.
Once he had collected ten oval seeds he, with a small scowl on his face, presented his cupped hand to Nikolas. Mathias' chest heaving up and down as he breathed. Never seeming to cease.
On bended knee he spoke, words never faltering.
"My Lord." He held his head high, cool light glue eyes gazing into Nikolas' own dark ones. Dark from so much distrust and loneliness. Darkened by his own doing.
Nikolas held one hand to his chest, as if having a heartbeat at that exact moment was a nuisance.
His mouth thinned and curved, a small smile, condescending but there just the same appeared.
Slender hands picked from the Danes palm a nut speckled with the deep color of blood.
Without a moments hesitation, the Norwegian popped the under ripe seed into his mouth and chewed slowly, with a purpose. His lips that were once a pale pink from the cold turned a violent red at one corner of his mouth from the Danes blood.
Mathias' eyes could only widened with shock at such a gesture, such a display that meant more that the Danish man would like to think.
"Shall you provide me laughter with your antics and nourish me with your blood?" Nikolas questioned seriously as he swallowed down the blood and fruit of the pinecone. His eyes never blinked as he stared at the Dane whose face turned pale.
Mathias licked his dry lips and took a steady breath to control himself and his words that he desperately wanted to shout to the heavens.
"Aye." He did a quick dip of a bow, knees scraping low to the floor to become plastered with mud. He was cold and hungry and bruised, but he was happy with Nikolas' response to his task. Quite happy indeed.
Nikolas smiled with closed lips, a flutter of eyelashes that betrayed his easement and mirth.
"Good. Then on to the next challenge."
…
Okay, I know, I know. A pinecone is stupid. But I was walking my dog and I tried to pick one of those fuckers up and get the nuts inside only to have my figner's bleed like a river. Blood is a major theme in this story, so if you don't like it, I'm sorry my lovelies!
PLEASE REVIEW! IT WOULD MEAN SO MUCH TO ME!
