Hey Guys! Sorry this update is so late! But in a week or so I will be visiting a place with limited internet access, so I want to upload as many chapters as I can! Once again this story is based on a Swedish Balad titled "Herr Mannelig". I DO NOT OWN HETALIA NOR THE SONG! Please enjoy this story! Reviews are needed to keep the wild jagged tooth dolphins at bay!

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Tino was pushed forward, the coarse ropes straining painfully against his modest clothing. He felt shame and damaged pride as he was led through the remnants of the town in only but his filthy night gown, his face undoubtedly dirty. His knees were bruised and his hands tied behind him like he was a lame work horse that was to be put out of its misery. Tino couldn't help but wish that he was. Anything was better then what supposedly lay ahead for him. Even death.

Tino felt uneasy, like the stitches of an old tapestry, he became unraveled and torn at the seems. He was terrified at what power the Russians had already displayed. Half of the the village laid in chard ruins, the other half only burned skeletal remains, just like its people. Women with colorful scarfs wrapped around their matted blonde hair, men with makeshift cloth slings helping to keep their broken arms from dragging to the blood soaked floor. Children, burned or dirtied littered the streets, teeth missing from their smiles. Smiles? Why were they smiling? Tino had the feeling he didn't want to find out.

Eduard walked next to Tino and did his best to smile, but Tino could see right through it. Eduard was just as afraid as Tino was, but of something different entirely. Eduard was here just like Tino, because he feared for his life. But Eduard could run away and no one would hunt after him like he was a dog. Tino was more than sure if he dared to escape, he would be torn to bits by the Russian dear hounds.

Tino knew why he was brought here now. He was a trophy, a rarity. Ivan didn't want him really. Tino was sure he would have taken anyone of his choosing. No, it was the fact that Tino had run away. Ivan did not seem like the kind of man who was used to the word 'no'. I was most likely the fact that Tino had deliberately defied the Russian and did his best to escape with Berwald.

Berwald.

Tino felt his heart clench as the first tear slid down his face, becoming a dull brown from all the dirt caked on his cheeks. He sighed and ground his teeth. Burying his cheek in his shoulder he wiped off the offending tears with anger. He would not shed a single tear in the Russian armies presence.

And oh what a presence it was.

A hundred men or so all lined up like big slabs of firewood stuck into the muddy earth. Each man had his hands on the heel of his sword, other gloved hand at his side. They all looked dangerous and none to happy. They were handsome though, Tino had to admit, with either rich dark hair or wheat colored locks that danced in the baking afternoon sun. But what they had in good looks they lacked with smiles, each one rough looking and leering. Tino sneered and growled at them, he would have spit at them too, but Eduard jabbed him in the ribs harshly and told him to mind his manners. Like Hell he would.

"Juokse! Juokse! Kaikki on parempi kuin tämä! Älä ryhdy vankinsa! iskeä takaisin!" Tino shouted out to the straggled and sinewy people that had survived the attack. Tino ground his teeth together and whirled around, the ropes around his body tightening and clutching at his skin even more, leaving nasty red burns-but he didn't care.

"Death is better than this! They will torture you if you lie back and take it! Fight back! Fight back I say!" Tino pleaded, his face burning with anger, his feet drenched in a thick and sloppy mixture of upturned mud and red velvety blood. He swallowed thickly and willed himself to remain calm. He had to stay calm.

"Oh you silly little Finn. They have been broken. Just like you will be, da?"

Tino froze where he stood.

All at once he forgot the biting sensation of the ropes, the squishing mud and blood underneath his feet, and the stinging stench of burned flesh. He forgot all of it when he heard that voice.

Turing his head unwillingly to the front of the village he saw on a hobbled rock castle that served as the room and board Inn, a row of soldiers lined up along the sides of it. The vibrant red flags danced along the black stained boarders, smoke still billowing from the cracks in the mortar that had had oil strewn all along it, being set aflame in the attack no doubt. No simple strike of lighting could have done this. The Gods would not be so cruel. But Ivan was.

Speak of the Devil.

Ivan sat perched on a wood carved chair in the front of the inn, the long haired women from this morning at his right, another taller, bigger breasted women at his left. Tino looked to the unfamiliar woman and say that she was twisting nervously, her hands wedged into the edges of her light blue dress, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Tino stared on with silent pity. It appeared even those close to Ivan were terrified of the man.

Ivan placed his hands gingerly on the arms of the chair, the knotted wood sprawled with intricate designs of leaping horses and bumbling bears. Slung over the chair was the skin of a small bear, its left paw slung on the chairs arms. Ivan was sitting comfortably in the chair, the epitome of perfection. His hair had been combed over his violet eyes so much like Tino's, only they burned with the hunger of death, like a Valravn.* Tino shivered. Nervous? Who, him?

The tall and disturbingly giddy Russian was wearing a tan flax tunic with leather brown armor and a metal encrusted belt with the wings of a two headed eagle as the belt. Tino swallowed thickly and stood up straight. He would not be intimidated.

"I am not marrying you Ivan." Tino shouted out to the Russian. Tino knotted his fingers together in a fist at his sides. The Russians grin grew bigger, his eyes closing to thin slits.

"My, My, forward aren't we, little Snow Bird?" Ivan purred. He swung his legs over the chair and stood up, a long cloak lined with rabbits fur spilled downward, gliding against a grand and decorated sheath of a sword. Tino willed his body to stop shaking.

"I will not marry you. Leave my village while you still can." Tino growled out, annoyed by the little nickname he had already acquired.

All around his the spiteful chuckles of the Russian men violated Tino's ears. Somewhere a dog barked and a horse neighed.

"You are in no position to make threats my little Snow Bird." Ivan's gentle smile curled into something more intense, more sickeningly sweet. Tino backed up a step.

"You think you can win my hand at marriage by killing half of my village? Are you insane?" Tino cried out. He wedged aside from Eduard and tugged at the ropes, a glare smudged on his pale face. Ivan made a small nodding movement to the Liet who nodded quickly, his eyes darting back and forth, like a jittery animal about to go into slaughter.

Liet quickly trotted over to Tino and undid the thick and heavy knotting of the ropes. Once the ropes flew down from the Finn's bruised body, Tino sighed heavily before gripping his wrists and rubbing them furiously. They were already red, all ready marked.

Eduard, Liet and Ravias all scurried to the right, leading their tired and sweaty horses to the low set paddock that housed all of the soldiers lithe and startlingly beautiful horses, along with what remained of the villagers small Icelandic ponies.

Tino sneered at the three dispersing men before turning back to Ivan who had began to walk over to Tino, a bounce in his step, smile on his thin lips.

"I am not insane little Snow Bird. Nyet. I am merely playful." Ivan smirked before placing his gloved hand against Tino's face, stroking it against the pale Finn's cheeks. Tino jerked back, his face set in a snarl.

"Don't touch me." He breathed out, still standing his ground. Ivan's smirk grew deeper, like a valley sinking into the earth, into Hel.*

"Why? Because I am not the Troll? I am a knight little Snow Bird. I am much better than the stupid bumbling beast that has been invited into your bed. Why not take me as your husband? I am at least mortal. I am yours. And you are Mine. Mine." Ivan smiled, crooking his head to the side. He spread his arms out wide, like a monstrous dragon about to take flight.

"You have no place to run, no place to fly Snow Bird. I own your wings now. You are clipped. Trapped." Ivan chuckled lightly. The warm spring air picked up and whirled Ivan's hair against his eyes, his cloak whip lashing against the earth. Tino felt rage build inside of him. How dare this man come and destroy everything Tino had held dear to him. Ivan had destroyed, killed, and trampled everything the Finn ever had. His family, his home, and his one true love. Ivan could rot on the floor for all Tino cared.

"What are you even talking about? You make no sense! You are insane!" Tino yelled out. He backed away from Ivan, scanning his eyes around him. The Villagers had all huddled around in a wide circle, looking onward, the same gaze left in thier watery yellow eyes. The look of hope.

But hope for what? What? Tino felt like ripping his head from his scalp. He was so frustrated, so confused! He had to find a way to escape, to get away from this madman!

"You are my connection to the land! If I marry you then I will become one with the land, da? I want to become one. I will rule this pitiful wasteland and make it great. With you at my side my little Snow Bird, we shall conquer all. We will pull down the mountains, bleed the rivers, and wound the earth. The stars will bow down before us! I am a knight, and you will be my squire and my bride. I can offer you many things, da. But only if you are mine." Ivan smiled. He made a grab for Tino but the little Finn shrieked and side stepped, doing his best to escape the Russian mans grasp.

"Do not try to fly away little Snow Bird. If you do not marry me I will kill all these people. You are the only thing keeping them alive. You are their hope." Ivan mumbled. He made a grab for Tino just as the little Finn was about to turn around and run for the braced circle of soldiers all around him. Tino's eyes widened in horror at what Ivan had just told him. He was the villages only hope at life? Tino shook violently, trying to dispel the hot tears that so painfully pricked his eyes.

Ivan clasped his hands roughly on Tino's shoulders and heaved the Finn up and over his shoulders, tucking his legs with his other arm. Tino kicked and screamed violently, feeling his chemise flutter and jerk against his legs. Ivan chuckled and patted his rump. Tino did his best to kick him in the rib.

"We will have a wedding today my fellow friends! In one hour, I, Ivan Braginski will become one with the land! All are welcome!" Ivan's giddy voice vibrated over Tinos ears. Tino shut his eyes and growled his teeth together. All around him the soldiers made a pounding noise with their spears, the metal and wood thudding against the earth, making and sickening thud and boom. All smiles on their lips, some even cheered.

Tino watched with horror as the villager's eyes widened with hope. Most had pity in their eyes, pity for Tino, but they feared the end of the swords and spears more than to help the little Finn. Tino was doomed. No one was going to save him. No one was coming to help him. Berwald and his family had probably been already captured and had been killed. No one was going to rescue him. No one.

Tino hung his head low and slumped his shoulders down. This was it. It all ended here.

"St'p!"

Tino froze in the grip of the Russian. His eyes slowly opened, slowly widened. All around him grew silent. The soldiers stopped their mad pounding, the children quieted their wailing, even the wild dogs left in the village did their best to stop their yips of hunger.

Tino jerked his head upward, twisting in the Russians now rigid grip. Tino couldn't believe what he saw. In the middle of the muddied circle, flesh bruised, burned and scarred, head held high, eyes gleaming with might, stood Berwald. Berwald. Tino's heart ceased to beat.

"I...I...Ber-Berwald?" Tino breathed out thickly. His voice felt raw and rough, as if he had never used it once in his existence. His body wracked and shook, the first edged of a tear littered his dirtied face. He sobbed.

"Oh? Look who came to see the wedding. The Swedish Troll." Ivan's voice burned into Berwald, but the tall blonde man stood his ground.

Tino spied movement from the edged of soldiers and saw with heated breath, Mathias and Nikolas carrying Björt emerge from the crust of Russian men, a crude smile placed over Mathias's face, axe gleaming and shinning in hand. He walked up to stand next to Berwald.

"I came ta' ch'll'nge ya'." Berwald growled out, his glare heavy and stern, like a vicious mountain lion looking down on a wounded animal. Ready to pounce.

Ivan smirked. "Challenge me to what, Troll?" His voice slid over Berwalds like a snake, thick and weighted, dry and none to amused. Berwald's face hardened.

"I'll f'ght ya' fer T'no..." Berwald said, his voice collective and calm. But Tino noticed with worry just how angry the Swede was. He had a borrowed sword in his hand, his scarred chest glistening with sweat and dried clumps of blood. His hard stare clung to his face, his eyes were squinted, one of the glass shards in his spectacles broken. Tino shuddered with desperation.

"Berwald...Oh Berwald...!" Tino sobbed out. He kicked and fought and bit in the Russians grip. Ivan smirked but threw Tino to the ground were he landed just inches from a pile of blood soaked rags. Tino cringed.

He quickly staggered upward and ran through the sludge and soil that the Russian horses stomping had done to the land, everywhere signs of struggles and battles imprinted in the earth. Tino bit his lip before letting all the hurt, worry, and fear that had welled inside him, stream out like a broken dam. Tino flung his arms into the Swedes and felt those strong and powerfully gentle arms wrap him tightly to and even stronger body. Tino cried out loudly, not caring who heard, not caring about being strong or manly. He had had enough of acting tough. He wanted to cry and damn anyone who tried to stop him.

"Oh, what a happy meeting. Too bad it has to end with death, da?" Ivan sing-songed. He raised his hand up and swiftly threw it down, his grin wide, fake, and very dangerous. Within a few seconds a thick wall of soldiers had advanced on Tino, Berwald, Mathias and Nikolas pulling them apart like a wolf ripping meat from the bone. Tino kicked and screamed, gnashing his teeth together. From the corner of his eye he could see Berwald fighting off the soldiers as best as he could as well, his sword flashing, eyes open and deathly stubborn. Mathias was swearing, his smile bright, dogmatic teeth gleaming, he took a swipe a Russian soldier, winding him and throwing him to the floor. Mathias stood in front of Nikolas who had picked up a piece of shard wood and was swinging it at a clump of Russian men, his face glaring.

"Wait!" A calm and solid voice shouted into the now chaotic air. Both the soldiers and Berwald paused, their weapons still raised, this ready to slice and kill anything if need be.

Tino turned his head to see the women from this morning, with the long flowing hair walk daintingly over to Ivan. He face was angry, but lacked the flush blush of wrath, instead she was as firey as below zero ice. Her eyes flashed over to Berwald for a split second before she returned her gaze over to her brother.

"Brother dear, the Troll has challenged you. Are you but not going to indulge this forest mongrel in a battle? You know the rules, once someone has challenged the groom for the bride..."

Ivan sighed, his eyes flashing nervously for a second. He inched away from his sister and stared back at Berwald who had stepped forward to wrap his arms around Tino's waist, his other arm brandishing the sword.

"I am well aware of the rules of our clan, Natalya." Ivan's gaze hardened, the smile dissolving from his face.

"Fine. Troll, you challenge me for the hand of the Finn?" Ivan asked, his face grim, a smile still in place.

Berwald nodded curtly.

Ivan's smile split wide open, like lightning that just struck a tree in half. Tino bit his lip.

"Here are the terms. Whoever gives Tino the most wonderful gifts and treasures win. Tino is very special to both of us, as we can both assume. He deserves pretty things, da? So. He will chose which gifts he prefers more. Mine. Or yours."

Berwald hardened his gaze. "I acc'pt. 'N if it comes d'wn t' a tie?" He muttered, looking to the tall Russian. Ivan clasped his hands together.

"Then we fight and who is the best...and who is dead." Ivan smirked. He looked behind him and waved to the other woman that had been nervously standing by Ivans throne-like-chair.

The woman hesitantly trotted over to Ivan, her face in a tight pout, short blonde hair gathered up behind her with the thin strip of a decorated headband. She feebly bit her lip and looked to Ivan, as if waiting for him to direct her action.

"This is my eldest sister, Katyusha. She will take Tino and get him cleaned up. While he is getting prepared, you will have one hour to amass all of your gifts. Use the time wisely Troll. It may be your last time on this earth, da?" Ivan smirked.

Berwald ground his teeth together. "No. Can't tr'st ya. Yer S'ster can h'lp 'em get cl'aned up... But w'th Nikkolas w'th 'em in th' b'rn over th're..." Berwald mumbled, his face was hard and angry, untrusted.

Ivan's eyes widened, his mask slowly crumbling, but within a second it was back in place, cautious and smiling. All smiles.

"Da. You are a cleaver Troll. A few of my soldiers will go with them though." Ivan said.

Berwald nodded curtly. "Th's fine. But keep one a' tha' doors op'n." He grunted. Ivan nodded, turning to his eldest sister.

"You really don't trust me, da?" Ivan mumbled, pretending to be hurt by Berwalds words.

"No. I don't." Berwald growled out. Ivan sighed, his lips painted in a smile.

"Katyusha?" He smiled sweetly towards his sister, a real smile. She blinked a few times before breathing heavily and nodding. She hesitantly walked over to Tino and lightly took his arm, Nikolas with Björt glued right next to Tino's other side. The Finn frowned but did not protest. A few soldiers walked with her, carrying a wicker basket that had piles of clothing in it, a wash rag, and a bar of lye soap. Another man carrying a few pales of hot water. Tino bit his lip.

"It'll be 'kay... Berwald mumbled to Tino, his eyes weary but solid, sure. Tino took in a a deep breath before smiling weakly. Berwalds small smile gave Tino some added strength and he nodded to the Swede. He bit his lip before slowly standing on tip toe and kissing Berwald lightly on the lips. Berwald blushed but smiled softly, sweetly. Oh yes, he wold fight the Gods themselves if he had to. Tino was never going to be taken away from him again. Berwald would make sure of it.

"Well Troll. You have an hour. Make use of it, Da?" Ivan smiled childishly at Berwald before turning around, his ever presence scarf whip lashing in the now added breeze, making the smell of burnt rubble stiffen around the air. And hour to save his wife. Berwald sighed. It would be done.

...

"You have to what?" Mathias barked out. His Axe was resting on his shoulders, a displeased growl on his lips.

Berwald sighed. "Ya' h'rd Iv'n... I gotta' get T'no B'tter g'fts th'n 'em..." he muttered. Mathias's face furrowed in a frown, his eyes sharp and confused.

"What the hell kinda' challenge is that?" He yelled. After Tino had been escorted to the barn, Mathias and Berwald had shuffled to the chard remains of a small hut, trying to think of a plan of how to acquire better gifts than Ivan. Neither of them had any money and they both felt this challenge was particularity unfair.

"Well, you know if you just get Tino a clump of dirt or a rotting piece of cabbage, he'll still pick you to marry." Mathias mumbled sourly. He raked his hands over his wild and frothy hair, as if the answer to their problems would be drown out from his golden locks. Berwald sighed, sitting down on the remains of a broken stool, one of its legs kicked off.

"Iv'n won't st'nd fer it. It h's ta' be good. Wh'se ta' say Iv'n won't j'st lie n' k'll us." Berwald growled out in frustration. Mathias chucked.

"The guys crazy but not that crazy. Ya just gotta do better than him enough to get ya both ta' tie. Then you can just kick the crap outta' him and smooch the Finn and then get the hell outta' here!" Mathias chuckled. Berwald bit his lip, his lips turning a bit pink.

"True love will always prevail, Berwald! Even for a Troll! You just gotta believe!" Mathias spoke out loudly.

"How ya' s'pp'se we get good enough g'fts?" Berwald mumbled with heated and tired frustration. The notion of true love conquers all was nice, but its not like gifts would just randomly appear?

"Like, we'll totally help you!" Said an unfamiliar feminine yet still male voice. Berwald and Mathias turned around to see a few villagers, men and women, all lined up in the door way, their clothes scuffled and torn, each one carrying a basket in their hands. Berwald and Mathias looked to each other before a small smile graced each of their lips. Mathias turned back to the small group of people and grinned.

"Told ya'. The power of true love conquers all?" He smirked to Berwald. Berwald sighed deeply and couldn't help but let small smile grace his lips. Yes. Love does conquer all.

...

Can you guess whose going to help them? Holy crap! Sorry for all the scary dramatic stuff! ^^"""" I don't hate the Russians! My boyfriend it Russian so I have no quarrels with them, its just in terms of History the Finn's and Russians aren't too good of friends. I hope you like this chapter! REVIEW PLEASE OR HANA-TAMAGO WILL EAT MEHHHHH!

Authors Notes:

-"Juokse! Juokse! Kaikki on parempi kuin tämä! Älä ryhdy vankinsa! iskeä takaisin!"- Roughly translates to "Run! Run! Anything is better than this! Don't become his prisoner! fight Back!" In Finnish.

-"His hair had been combed over his violet eyes so much like Tino's, only they burned with the hunger of dealth, like a Valravn.*"- A Valravn is more popular in Danish lore but eh, whatever. It was a raven that had eaten dead warriors flesh on the battle field thereby inheriting human intelligence and supernatural powers. The often went after children in the middle of the night and ate them to gain human/and or/wolf forms.

-"He breathed out, still standing his ground. Ivan's smirk grew deeper, like a valley sinking into the earth, into Hel.*"-Helhein was basically Norse Hell but instead of being all fire and having the devil, it was cold and damp and ruled by the daughter of Loki named Hel, who was a rotting ugly women.