Chapter 10 of History Rewritten~ And guess who shows up in this chapter~
Norway awoke the next morning to the gelled smell of congealed blood and death. It had only been two days since their guard- mother's death. It was something that the three brothers were faced with all too soon and Norway found himself slipping more, and more often into a daze, staring into a warmth-less fire, searching for any sign of the happiness that was a part of his life only a few years before. The blond nation found himself bringing his knees up to his chest in an attempt to comfort him self. For now he was nothing more than an outer shell, hollow, much like a dead, rotted, tree trunk. Completely worthless. A sob disguised as a cough managed to work its way up his throat as the events of the last few days played over and over again in his head. Sweden and Denmark had both been at each other's throats more often than not. Denmark was more bossy and demanding, becoming less and less like himself. Sweden more withdrawn and brutal, not a scrap of his normal laid-back personality showing anymore like it used to, even after their father's death. But the two were both oblivious to Norway's voluntary mute suffering, as he withered away under the guilt and shame that he couldn't save her…. Just like he couldn't save his father. He really was worthless, wasn't he?
Norway shook his head in an attempt to clear his head of inherently depressing thoughts. He needed to get away from all of this. He wanted to run and not look back, but it's not like- wait. The blond's eyes lit up slightly for the first time in two days. There was land that his people had found earlier that summer. They'd called the place 'Iceland' for reasons as obvious as day to the young Norwegian. No one would think of going to a place with the word 'ice' in it's name, even when it was- in actuality- the exact opposite. Now all he needed was the perfect moment when he could slip away from his brothers. He wouldn't have to worry about being noticed seeing as they all avoided each other so much so that one would have thought that they were strangers, not brothers.
_Hetalia_
The door to the three brothers' home burst open, the hinges splintering as the wood groaned at the abuse it sustained. Sweden stalked in, Denmark at his heels snapping insults at his younger brother. This had obviously gone on for a while now as the next thing that Sweden did was draw his fist back- after the Dane spat out a particularly harsh insult- and hit Denmark square in the jaw with all of the strength that the young Viking could muster, and seeing as that was quite a lot of strength Sweden sent his Danish brother flying into the wall. The older blond hit his head on a beam and slumped to the floor out cold a thin trail of blood leading from the Dane's lips to join a small pool of blood on the floor from the wound on his head. Sweden lowered his fist and just stared at his older brother with a suppressed look of shock gracing his normally stoic features. The taller Nordic never noticed his younger brother watching the fight from the doorway. It was then that Norway realized that he had his chance. The young male sprinted down the path, the warm summer sun glaring down at him as if she were disapproving of his actions. It didn't matter. Norway had made up his mind. Now that Denmark was injured they couldn't go on raids or he'd risk 'death'- something that the three all agreed would be too kind at the moment- the youngest of the three had his chance to run from them. It was too much to deal with, all of the memories that is, they had practically made the Viking snap twice to many in the months after their…mother's… death.
_Hetalia_
Sweden never noticed Norway as the latter of the two ran down the path; he was more or less focused on trying to wake his older brother up. Though, that seemed to be a feat that just wasn't happening at the moment. Denmark was unmoving on the ground and no matter how many times the larger Swede threatened his brother with bodily harm the Dane didn't budge. It was enough to send a pang of fear through the larger Viking. It was then that his mind started to go into a panicked state until he remembered, Denmark hated needles. "Storebror, 'f y' d'n't w'k' 'p… I-I'll f'nd th' l'rg'st n'dl' 'n 'x'st'nc' 'nd 's' 't 'n y'." Sweden tried feebly his voice breaking slightly in panic, especially when the Dane didn't bolt upright and start claiming in hurried Danish that he didn't need stitches. Had he just killed his brother? The thought echoed through his mind making his throat knot, his heart twisting in fear. The Swedish adolescent punched Denmark in the face again out of frustration, a part of him hoping that it would work.
Much to the astonishment of younger of the two it actually did work. Denmark quickly sat up, pale, and a bit dazed as he gagged at the sensation of blood in his throat from his now bloodied nose. "Ow." The older blond mumbled pulling his hand away from his nose to look at the blood, only to wince and feel the gash in the back of his head. The Dane laughed a little woozily, "Ya, got me but good there, Sve!" Denmark then proceeded to yelp at the pain his own voice caused him. He groaned and then for the first time since he regained consciousness he actually looked at his younger brother. The other blond was almost visibly shaking, his marine eyes glassy, breathing heavy. It was enough to almost make the Dane feel sorry for his younger brother. Almost. He laughed weakly, "You should see your fa-" Denmark never got to finish his sentence as Sweden punched his brother for a third time, forcing the Dane into unconsciousness once more.
'By the time he's twenty he'll probably have brain damage.' Sweden thought to himself as he huffed in annoyance and lowered his fist once more as he got up to go and get the medical supplies, hoping that he could at least remember some of what his mother had taught him about basic medical procedures. Sweden threaded the needle with a shadow of a somewhat satisfied smirk. He would have a little too much fun giving Denmark stitches. Especially since the Dane almost heard him call aforementioned older blond storebror, something that the Swede would not live down easily had his idiot of an older brother heard him.
Of course it wasn't long after Sweden had finished stitching his brother's wound close and bandaged his head that the Dane once again regained consciousness. The spiky blond blinked groggily and looked around. His glazed eyes, once as bright as the sky itself where now dull with grief and pain that was both physical and emotional. Denmark looked across the room to find Sweden carving something with his knife. "Where's Nor?" The normally obnoxious Dane croaked, not finding his youngest brother in his line of sight. Sweden nearly cut himself. He hadn't thought about where Norway was. Sweden tried to think of the last place that he'd seen his younger brother, but he had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn't really taken any notice to Norway.
Quickly Sweden threw his carving down, the knife having gotten imbedded annoyingly in the grain of the wood as the tall Swede turned and went for his broadsword instead. He had learned it was better to be safe then sorry, and even though anarchy was now over he didn't trust his abilities enough to just take his knife with him. A little bit of overkill never hurt anyone, now did it? The marine-eyed nation then proceeded to sprint out of the Scandinavian's shared home and down to the town in slight distress hoping to find his little brother in the process.
_Hetalia_
The tall Viking made it to the town and in the process of asking around to see in anyone had seen the missing nation the Swede managed to finally strike gold. Well, technically he almost ran into a person, but hey this is a story one can speak figuratively here. The young woman quickly jumped out of the adolescent's way and turned to snap at him, "Watch where you're going Berwald!" She scolded the physically younger Viking. Sweden mumbled an apology and the young woman, known as Rusla turned to walk away before stopping abruptly and turning to Sweden. "By the way, I saw your brother talking with Alvin earlier, they just left for Iceland a few moments ago. You just missed them." Sweden could have strangled Norway at that moment. It was so unlike the other blond to go off and do something so reckless. Sweden numbly thanked her for the information and walked away in a half-daze wondering what he was going to do. He doubted that they had enough money to last for the rest of the year, especially now that Denmark was injured thanks to Sweden and Norway had run off to hide from his problems leaving them with the issue of a lack of resources.
"W't." Sweden called to Rusla making the older blonde stop midstride. "'R' y' st'll g'ng t' 'r'l'nd th's y'r?" He asked hopefully in an attempt to overcome his social awkwardness. Rusla nodded. She wasn't going to let a divorce stop her from doing what she loved most. She was just lacking a boat, which was something Sweden had. "'f I l'n y' m' sh'p w'll y' p'y m' s'xty p'rc'nt 'f y' f'nd'ngs?" The young nation offered hoping that she wouldn't come up with a counter argument, after all Rusla was one of the best people to bargain with… if she was on your side that is.
A sigh. "Since you're Saga's son, and she was my friend," The woman looked around to make sure that no one was around to see her softer side before she turned back to the Swede, "I'll do sixty." She whispered accepting the male Viking's proposal without a second thought.
Sweden barely had any time to register the fact that he had practically just given up his ship to one of the most renowned Vikings of the time for just sixty percent when the Swede remembered: his younger brother was on his way to Iceland by now and his elder idiot of a brother was back at their house whining that his head was bothering him. That left all of the work on Sweden. Sighing the tall nation started on his way back home, dragging his feet to try and prolong the headache that would probably greet him as soon as he opened the door.
_Hetalia_
The Norwegian's breathing hitched, his grip on his hammer quickly turning into a vice-grip as that word, that stupid word played over and over again in his mind as he made his way to the docks. Mother. Was that really what she was to him? A mother? Luckily he had made it to the docks and was no longer alone to keep his mind on that subject. Blocking out all other thoughts the adolescent walked up to a hulking man with wiry reddish-blond hair that didn't seem to know the concept of gravity and cleared his throat. The man turned his head slightly to reveal a battle-scarred face and cold blue eyes that peeked out from his eyebrows. The physically older Viking stood to his full height and turned towards Norway, his expression lighting up as he recognized the teen in front of him. "Lukas!" The man's baritone voice seemed to resonate across the waters turning what was once a peaceful afternoon to dust in nothing flat. The nation in question winced hoping that his brothers were nowhere near at the moment.
"Alvin." Norway responded in a more level tone keeping all emotion safely from the surface as to not draw attention to him self. The nation waited patiently for the middle-aged man to invite him on the ship with the rest of his crew. Alvin clumsily boarded the dragon after the younger Viking was safely onboard barking orders for said crew plus Norway to cast off. "To Iceland?" Norway questioned once they had navigated out of the rather deceitful coastline of his home.
The man nodded, "To Iceland."
_Hetalia_
A little boy shivered in an open meadow, lush grasses caressing his tiny face and hands. People had recently started coming to his land, strange people with large pieces of tree in the shape of a dragon and pieces of shinny stuff that bit into flesh and earth with such ease that it scared the child. He didn't like these people; they were too big and scary-looking. The child whimpered and tried to press closer to the ground, but the earth was too hard-packed for him to get very far. That was when a rather large, human shadow fell over the boy. He screeched, earning a grunt of pain from the person above him, and darted off into the tall grasses. He didn't like this change at all. It was too scary.
_Hetalia_
Weeks passed by on the endless plane of the ocean. Deep waves lapped at the sides of the boat teasingly as…darker things swam beneath in her realm, the realm of the ocean goddess. A deity known for her brutal cruelty, and now was no exception, especially seeing as there was an obvious lack of wind for the crew of Vikings that ever so slowly made their way across a rather deadly trail illustrated on a map to a spit of land seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Norway looked out at the sea a hollow look in his matching eyes. Only instead of dark creatures there was pure, raw, guilt and anguish suppressed beneath the surface of the Norwegian's blue gaze. Before the Viking laid an uncharted territory, a new and young country just as cruelly thrown into the world... sort of like how he'd been ripped away from everything that had given him solace. The blond jumped slightly as the wind picked up again filling the single sail and nudging the ship foreword towards the unknown.
_Hetalia_
Only two days after the first sighting of the new country the dragon landed and its human cargo proceeded to disembark and stumble around like drunkards until they regained the ability to walk on land again. Norway managed to sneak away from the men and went to do a little bit of exploration of the country. There was bound to be a personification here, and if they hadn't already been brought to the settlement then they'd probably be out here. Besides, the Norwegian needed something to take his mind off of past events and finding a new country seemed like a good idea to him.
A sudden crackling of underbrush and a sharp blur of white flooded Norway's senses as he was practically attacked by… a child. Now Norway had no idea that it was a child when he was rushed so when he found that the ground was suddenly a whole lot closer the nation instinctively lashed out at the mass in front of him in blind frustration. His hunting knife met nothing. The blond blinked in mild surprise. It was then that he realized he wasn't being attacked and that awful noise that was probably going to be the cause of loss of hearing in his right ear was the scream of a child. The weight suddenly flew from his chest as if pulled by strings as the young boy jumped off of Norway. The older nation looked at the kid, who was no more than five, and stood up slowly, gritting his teeth at the thin cuts in his hand and forearms he had received from the sand when he had fell.
The little boy had backed up from Norway, inspecting him with wide violet eyes that were brimming with tears. There was something off about the older boy in front of the new country. He brought tiny fists up to his eyes stubbornly to block his tears as he looked up at the other boy. Well sure this Viking was younger than the others, and short too. But there was something else. The older boy looked as though he were lost. The white-haired child was startled the most when the other boy sheathed his weapon and looked down on him with scathing eyes. It was almost as if the older of the two despised the younger. That look only lasted a second though as the boy in front of him sighed and after a brief glance around spoke at last. "Who are you?" He asked. This prompted a little bit of thought from the child, why was this boy asking who he was? Why wasn't he trying to attack him like that other man only a little while earlier? But seeing as he was a child his mind quickly forgot those details and in the heat of the moment, so to speak the child stuttered out an answer. Though, it seemed that the taller boy didn't hear what he had said so the new country took a shaky breath in an attempt to calm him self and tried again.
"I-I'm Iceland."
Oh lookie here, I totally didn't just add this just to make the story longer, no I didn't~ Now all that remains is for Iceland to call Norway big brother and for Norway to figure out if he's going to ever recognize Saga as his mother or not.
Historical stuffs-
Yep you guys heard (read) it, Iceland was found in c. 800 AD by, guess who? Yep, Iceland was 'discovered' by Erik the Red in 930 (Read - That's a pun people) and it was his descendants who went on to discover Greenland and America. (Discovering nations is part of the family business) However the whole thing where the DNA test comes in is one of the first permanent settlements was established in 874 AD by Ingolf Arnarson which explains why there was confusion as to why there were already people living on Iceland by the time it was 'discovered'. But I'm just saying it happened in 800 because, well, those where when the first permanent settlements happened. That and I just fits better with the story! DX
Speaking of people who like the color red that lady that Sweden was talking to? Yeah she's no poorly constructed OC, she actually existed :3 Her more famous name was the Red Maiden (Rusla). Her and her sister (Stikla) were two notorious Vikings who pillaged towns in Denmark, the British Isles, and Iceland. She also waged war against Denmark when her brother (who was a Norwegian King) lost the crown to the Danish King. It was this war and her 'take no prisoner' type of personality that gave her, her nickname and a place in legend (especially when her brother caught her and ordered to have her beaten to death with the oars.) She terrorized Ireland in about the year 800 AD just for a date for… like… future reference… ya know?
Other stuffs that you crazy and loveable people might be interested were the Vikings in Istanbul, Turkey and Spain and the Black Sea. That also happened in 800 (It was a busy year, the Vikings were outsourcing (Another bad joke people))
Oh yeah, and Viking women could get divorces, just as a side note. (So instead of people fighting over the house they'd fight over who got the boat. (Okay that was bad, I'm going to stop now. But that's the whole reason behind that part of the plot. Don't judge))
Language-
Storebror- Swedish- Big brother