Now that I've eased the mood with a couple of mindless antics, it's time to get back to the more serious drama.
Men of the Night's Watch
North Dakota just nodded mutely as he listened to South Dakota drone on, and on, and on about how wonderful Thanksgiving was that year before suddenly shifting gears and digressing onto a completely unrelated topic. They were in the process of driving a couple of their aunts and uncles to the airport before hitting the road, themselves. North Dakota didn't really want to go home, just yet, so he'd convinced South Dakota that they should take a trip or something to break up the tedium after they got the relatives to the airport. Also, things were pretty open for him, at the moment, as North Dakota had gotten all his paperwork done about a month or more in advance, as usual. What he really wanted was something to break up the monotony.
You see, North Dakota, for all his 'quiet guy in the back of the bar who can rip your spine out if you mess with him' demeanor, was actually rather like his father in the sense that the two of them thrived on adventure. If things got too quiet or dull, North Dakota had a tendency to get a little…moody.
"So I says to North, I says," said South Dakota. "'North, put down that rattler. It's dangerous.' And you know what North does? I tell you what North does. He holds it by its neck – or, well, I don't suppose snake's really have necks, do they? I mean, they're just one long thing – but he grips it just under its head so it can't twist 'round and bite him, 'cause that would be really stupid, wouldn't it, North? Holding a snake in a place where it can twist 'round and bite you would be really stupid, right?
"Anyway, so North's got the rattler and it's really, really ticked off. I mean, really, really, really ticked off. But North's just standing there, calm as you like, and puts this tiny top hat on the rattler's head and tells me to get a picture. Can you believe it? Apparently, North had been looking at a lot of pictures online of snakes in tiny hats and he wanted to do one of his own. I mean, honestly, going to all that trouble and scaring the living daylights outta me just to get a picture of a rattler in a top hat."
South Dakota continued to ramble as North Dakota steered the vehicle into a parking spot and got out to begin unloading the luggage.
"Oh, North, let me help you, North," South exclaimed, hastily clambering out of the car. As he stepped out, however, he gave a hiss of pain as he put pressure on his left leg.
As he stumbled, a strong hand caught South Dakota by the shoulder and he looked up to see the solemn face of his uncle Lakota.
"Another bad day?" Lakota asked him.
"It's nothing, Uncle," South Dakota said, forcing a smile. "Just need my cane, today. That's all."
Lakota's expression didn't change. He had seen the injury his nephew carried, an abscess in his left leg. South Dakota had had the abscess since 1890, when he and North Dakota were two years old. Some days, Lakota couldn't help but blame the boys' father for not keeping a more careful watch on his troops at the time. It was their recklessness and willful disregard for life that led to South Dakota being permanently injured as he was. No matter what else Lakota thought of his little brother America's family, no child should have to go through that kind of pain. A pain which Lakota, himself, shared, as he had the same wound as his nephew.
The others barely noticed the exchange, except for North Dakota – who looked silently at his twin with the faint flicker of concern in his eyes – and Nakota – who took it upon herself to fuss over South Dakota and make sure he didn't aggravate his leg too much.
Once the group gathered their belongings, they made their way into the airport terminal to await their flight.
At the same time, America was saying his goodbyes to his fellow nations at the airport. He didn't want to sound paranoid, but America was reasonably certain that England and France were in on something. Every other conversation he had with them, it felt like they were fishing for information…and he had a vague suspicion of what exactly they were after. Well, if they wanted to know the location of his super-duper, top-secret, borderline-mad scientist laboratory where he was working on his superhero gadgets, then they had another thing coming. He was far too smart to fall for their tricks.
He was currently seeing the Nordics off. Of course, he had noticed that they had been paying closer attention to him, recently, too. Not that America minded; he liked making friends and he'd always thought the Nordics were pretty cool. Especially since he and Canada made a little discovery a few decades earlier.
America was just finishing up talking with Denmark about their upcoming Awesome Trio meeting with Prussia when he caught sight of two of his sons walking with a couple of their aunts and uncles. He recognized Nakota's kindly, round face and the red paint she usually wore across her forehead, Eastern Dakota (also known as "Santee") and Western Dakota (also known as "Yankton-Yanktonai") looking nearly identical save for the fact that Western Dakota was a woman and Eastern Dakota was a man, and, of course, Lakota's halting gait as he walked with a cane the same way America's son, South Dakota, did.
"Hey, guys!" America called out, waving over at his family.
The other group saw him and hesitantly made their way over, most of them not entirely certain about the people he had with him. South Dakota was the only one of them particularly eager to meet America's friends, as North Dakota wasn't especially talkative and the tribes were very cautious in interacting with the Europeans.
America, not sensing the atmosphere, simply decided to go ahead and introduce everyone. The Nordics and the tribes greeted each other politely, if a little formally. But the main focus of the Nordics' attention was on America's sons.
Physically, North Dakota and South Dakota were exceptionally alike. They had the same chin-length, pale blonde hair, sharp features, and violet-blue eyes – though South Dakota's hair had four, distinct locks of hair that curled up on one side while North's was just straight. South Dakota was also relying on a cane to walk. In terms of personality and temperament, it was clear that the twins were as different from each other as Norway and Denmark – which suddenly put in perspective for the Nordics a comment which America had made months ago when he had arranged a ride to the airport for them at the end of the New York conference, in which he had mentioned that Norway and Denmark reminded him of two of his kids.
"It's so nice to meet you all," South Dakota said cheerily. "North and I just about died from excitement when Dad told us that we'd get the chance to meet his friends. Didn't we, North?"
North Dakota just blinked dispassionately in response.
"That's absolutely right, North! Oh, a proper introduction is needed, I suppose. I'm South Dakota, better known to my family and friends as 'Deidrick Jones.' And this is my twin brother, North Dakota, also known as 'Derick Jones.'"
"Wait a moment," Norway suddenly spoke up. "I have seen you both, before."
"Oh, you must be Mr. Norway! Yes, North and I were part of the group sent to assist in the sabotage operations you were running in World War Two. It's because we work so well together, don't we, North? You're the strong, silent one and I'm the unassuming, friendly one, so no one would ever suspect us. Plus, we're really good with cold weather, aren't we, North? What was it that California called you once, North? She said you were like The North in Westeros. You remember, North, that's from that violent fantasy series where everyone dies and there are ice zombies. Didn't Cali also refer to you as 'Hoth,' once? You know, the ice planet from Star Wars."
"You stabbed eighty-three enemy soldiers on your first day," Norway said in quiet disbelief.
"Hmm? Really? I was certain it was more."
"You both spent five days in a blizzard with no food and still managed to blow up a hydroelectric plant."
"Oh, yeah, North had a lot of fun doing that. He's not big on industrial complexes, are you, North? No, my brother's more of a 'back to nature' type. You get to appreciate the simpler things when you're a Rough Rider, after all."
"What's a 'Rough Rider'?" said Finland, who was the only one not even remotely startled by the Dakotas' exploits. Perhaps it was because Finland was, himself, insanely dangerous but talented at hiding it behind his adorable face.
"The Rough Riders were the First United States Volunteer Cavalry. One member of the group was the future president, Theodore Roosevelt, who credited his skills as an outdoorsman and even his eventual rise to the presidency to the experiences he had at North's place. Teddy Roosevelt is North's favorite president, too. Isn't that right, North?"
North Dakota still said nothing, though there was the faintest hint of color in his cheeks.
"Anyway," South Dakota continued. "So you guys are Vikings, right? Like, axes and horned helmets and beards? Where are your beards, though? Did you ever sail on longships? Is it true that you were the first Europeans to find Dad when he was a baby? Minnesota says, and our cousin Manitoba agrees, that-"
"For goodness' sake, boy," Lakota said tiredly. "Would you take a breath? You keep talking so fast, you'll pass out."
"Oh, sorry, Uncle Lakota, I get excited." He turned back to the Nordics with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about the question barrage. I just like talking. I could go on forever."
"It's all right, kid," Denmark said, giving a wide grin of his own. "I love talking, too. Especially about myself."
Norway and Iceland both rolled their eyes. All they wanted was to get on their flight, which, unfortunately, wasn't leaving for a while yet.
Denmark then went into an explanation about the Vikings (making sure to emphasize that, no, Vikings did not have horns on their helmets). Of course, mentioning the Nordics' Viking past also involved bringing up Scandia, their father-figure. Iceland began to look very nervous and he could sense someone was watching him; glancing up, he saw America's brother, Lakota, observing his reactions to Denmark's description of Scandia.
"Yes, well, we must get going," Iceland interrupted, tugging rather forcefully on Denmark's arm. "Got a plane to get to."
"We must take our leave, as well," Lakota added in an even tone, though his suspicious gaze continued to linger on Iceland. While he might not have lived in the Northeast, Lakota had heard stories from some of his siblings, like his brother Mi'kmaq, about the events surrounding the birth of their little brothers, America and Canada. "It was…nice to meet you all." He turned to North Dakota. "We will see you later, nephew. Make sure your brother doesn't hurt himself."
North Dakota just nodded in response.
"Come on, we need to go," Iceland said, more firmly.
"Hej, Icey, what's your hurry?" said Denmark.
"Yes, Iceland, our flight doesn't leave for another hour or so," said Finland.
"I…just…don't you guys want to take some time to plan for the expedition?" said Iceland.
"Whoa, cool," said America. "You guys having an adventure or something?"
"If you must know," said Norway. "We are planning to find someone in Sápmi. It's the northern region we share."
"Oh, like a rescue mission, then?"
"Not' 'xactly," said Sweden. "W're go'n' t'look for Saami."
"She's a native tribe in the north of mine, Sweden, and Norway's lands," Finland added on seeing America's confused expression. "We haven't seen her in centuries, but, seeing as your tribes are still around, it's made us hopeful that Saami is, too."
"Wow!" South Dakota exclaimed. "That sounds like a great adventure, doesn't it, North? Can we come, too? I mean, I know it's a little forward of me to ask, but North and I love going on adventures and North, here, is the best tracker in the whole entire world."
North Dakota gave a low grunt at that.
"Aw, c'mon, North! You know you're the best tracker. I won't have you dismissing your talents, especially after all the good work you've done with them." South Dakota then turned back to the Nordics. "He's just a little shy, is all, and super modest. He thinks being too proud of your abilities is sinful, and, seeing as he's really religious, being sinful is a big no-no. But, I promise, he's really, really, really good at what he does and his preferred payment for services rendered is beer. It doesn't even have to be fancy beer, as North's perfectly content with a generic brand. And North has been so hopeful for the chance of an adventure, lately, and we both enjoy travelling and we wouldn't be any trouble-"
"Hold kjeft!" a voice snapped.
As the words were Norwegian, everyone turned to look at Norway, who just shrugged. However, they soon noticed that North Dakota was glowering at his twin, a slight tic in his cheek.
"Uh, did I also forget to mention that North and I are both fluent in a bunch of languages?" South Dakota said at a much more sedate pace.
"Well," Finland said after an extended pause. "We weren't really planning on bringing anyone else with us. But I don't really see the harm. We haven't gone on a tracking mission like this in some time and we could use some extra help. What do you all think?" he added to the other Nordics.
"If y'u want, 's f'ne with me," said Sweden.
"It's cool with me," Denmark said happily. "I want to see how tough these boys really are."
"You don't get a vote," said Norway. "You're lucky we're even letting you on this trip."
"Come on, Norge, don't be like that. We're all like brothers, here."
Norway looked decidedly unamused. Then again, he never looked amused.
"As long as neither of you slows us down," Norway said to the Dakotas, "I suppose I do not object." He looked at Iceland. "What do you think, little brother?"
"Fine, I don't care! Let's just go, already!" Iceland huffed.
"America, are you all right with your sons going with us?" Finland asked.
"Of course I am," said America with a reassuring smile. "My little dudes know what they're doing. If they want to go on a crazy, wild adventure, I'm not gonna stop them."
"Great!" South Dakota chirped. He then whipped out a large backpack that was clearly stuffed with supplies. "I'm ready for an adventure!"
"How did you pack so quickly?" Iceland said in amazement.
"I'm always prepared. North, what's that phrase you like? 'Proper planning prevents piss-poor performance.' That's it. I've even got our plane tickets." He held up the aforementioned tickets.
"Wait, how on earth did you get tickets?" said Norway. "We only just agreed to let you accompany us a moment ago."
"I told you. I'm always prepared."
"Wait, before we leave," said Finland. "Has anyone seen Sealand and Ladonia?"
At that precise moment, the two micronations in question were engaged in a fierce videogame battle at a house in Minnesota while the state, herself, made them cookies, chocolate fudge Bundt cake, and hot cocoa. How that arrangement occurred and how the Dakotas had obtained their plane tickets in exchange was best left unsaid.
"'s he go'n'a be okay?" Sweden asked as North Dakota picked his brother off the ground.
South Dakota had gotten so excited for the trip that, as soon as they had all walked out of the airport in Trondheim, he made a mad dash and crashed face-first into a parked bus. In South Dakota's defense, he was not expecting there to be objects in his immediate path, as he usually rushed out in a similar fashion whenever he arrived in his own home and had never encountered an obstruction before.
North Dakota responded with a look that basically said, 'He'll be fine. He's been hit harder than that.'
"North, hey, North, North," South Dakota mumbled. "Why are there stars out in the middle of the daytime, North?"
North Dakota rolled his eyes, set his brother back on his feet, and handed South Dakota his cane.
"I'm good, North," South Dakota tried to say. "The pain in my leg stopped halfway through the flight."
North Dakota just blinked at his brother in what could only be described as a stern way.
"Fine, fine, Mr. Pushy. I'll humor you, 'cause you're my little brother."
North Dakota quirked one brow.
"I know we don't know who was actually born first 'cause Dad won't tell us, but I'm obviously the big brother."
North Dakota raised both eyebrows and blinked at him.
"I am so! Anyway, where to, now?"
The Dakotas and the Nordics loaded into a car and made their way to Norway's house to retrieve the old camping gear which Norway had tucked away in his storage room. After making sure they had plenty of food and other necessary supplies, the team set out. Norway had chartered a ship to take them northward, closer to the Sápmi region (known more commonly to outsiders as "Lapland"), where they would begin their search; however, once they were on land, they would be relying on dogsleds.
During the voyage north, Denmark kept the Dakotas (or, at least, South Dakota) entertained with tales of the Nordics' exploits when they were younger. He made particular note of his glorious days as the self-proclaimed "King of Scandinavia." Finland would frequently add in his own details of events, usually with stories of the happier, less violent instances in the Nordics' past. Sweden, not really the talkative type, decided to do a bit of sewing to pass the time, as a few of the tents and sleeping bags had some tears that needed to be mended before any of them set foot in the frigid north. Iceland kept acting strangely furtive, especially when Denmark brought up Scandia, once again. Norway just stood at the front of the ship, staring off contemplatively into the distance.
"…Scandia was really strong and powerful," Denmark said one evening during dinner. "Strongest of all the ancients. He taught us all about how to fight and sail and make weapons. Of course, he was also good-looking, like me."
Denmark went on to describe Scandia as a tall, imposing, and physically fit man with long, windswept blonde hair, and blue-violet eyes. He had superhuman strength and would often show it off by picking up heavy objects or even dangerous animals just because he could.
"Why do you have to keep talking about Scandia?" Iceland said suddenly. "We get it, he was a great warrior and everything but you don't need to keep mentioning him every five seconds."
"What's your deal, Icey?" said Denmark. "You've been acting really weird ever since that day at the conference."
"It's nothing."
Everyone stared at him, which made Iceland become increasingly uncomfortable and drove him to storm off to the bunkroom.
The Dakotas stared up in awe as they watched the Northern Lights dancing across the sky.
The group had been travelling through Sápmi for a couple weeks. The Nordics had been impressed that neither of the boys minded the cold, save for Norway who already knew of how immune the boys had shown themselves to be during WWII.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Norway said as he glanced up at the Lights.
"Breathtaking," said South Dakota softly. "We've seen the Lights, sometimes, but not quite like this. Uncle Mandan once told us that the Lights are from the fires over which great warriors and medicine men boiled their enemies in giant cooking pots."
"That's…interesting. As a child, I was told that the Lights were the Bifrost, the rainbow bridge that fallen warriors travelled across to reach Valhalla."
"I always thought the Lights were the sparks from the tail of the fire fox, the 'revontulet,'" said Finland. "Although, I do remember Saami called the Lights 'guovssahasah,' which means 'the sun glowing in the sky in the morning or in the evening.'"
"You guys really miss this Saami lady, don't you?" said South Dakota.
"She was like a mother to us," said Norway. "Well, most of us. Denmark and Iceland never met her because we didn't meet them until Scandia took over raising us."
"Why do you guys have to keep bringing up Scandia?" Iceland grumbled again.
"What is the big deal, Iceland?" said Denmark, who had slightly charred his eyebrows while setting up the campfire. "Every time one of us mentions Scandia, you get all pouty and angry and act like you want to bite our heads off. Are you still mad at him for disappearing?"
"Of course I am!" Iceland snapped. "He left me alone to look after Greenland until you guys found us! I was stranded out there for ages with a bunch of angry tribes wanting to kill me because he walked out on…" Iceland's eyes went wide. "Forget it, it's not my place to say it."
"Iceland, what's wrong?" Finland said with concern. "You can tell us."
"No."
"You promised me we would talk about it when we got home," said Norway.
"I don't have to do what you say."
"Is this something to do with Vinland?" said South Dakota, drawing everyone's attention.
"How-how do you know about that?" Iceland asked worriedly.
"Well, Dad and Uncle Canada got this DNA test thing done…"
Iceland was very tempted to slap himself in the face. This was just like how he'd discovered that he and Norway were actually, biologically brothers.
"…I mean, none of the aunts and uncles really like to talk about it. All we really know is that Uncle Canada got briefly settled by Vikings who originally came from Iceland and who explored a little bit further south in lands that belong to Dad, now."
The other Nordics were now staring very, very intently at Iceland. Iceland, for his part, was trying to sink deeper inside his coat. Mr. Puffin, who was sitting on his shoulder, narrowed his eyes and started lightly pecking against the side of Iceland's face.
"All right, already," Iceland finally spluttered. "It all happened about a thousand years ago…"
"I-I don't want to go on this voyage," Iceland said tearfully as he looked up at Scandia's smiling face. "I'm scared, Pabbi. The ocean's really big and dangerous. I want my big brother."
"Come on, now, Little One," Scandia said, stooping down to pat the boy's head. "No tears, now. You need to learn how to be a real warrior. Warriors aren't afraid of adventures. Do you think Norge, Dane, and Sve are scared of the ocean?"
"N-no."
"You want to show them how brave and strong you are, right?"
"Y-yes, Pabbi."
"Good. Now, let's get to that ship. Erik Thorvaldsson has every confidence that this new land he's found is going to be beautiful and bounteous. And maybe we'll even get to fight some giant monsters."
"M-monsters?"
Scandia took Iceland's tiny hand in his as he led the trembling child towards the ship. Iceland looked back as Scandia lifted him up into the vessel and saw Norway standing on the docks, looking slightly irritated (which meant, inside, he was absolutely furious). Norway called out to Scandia and tried to convince him to leave Iceland behind, but Scandia brushed him off and said he was going to teach Iceland how to live like a real Viking.
Iceland spent several miserable months on that ship. Freezing, half-starved, and desperately wishing to go home. Scandia, however, just kept complaining about how nothing exciting had happened; they hadn't even encountered a single sea monster and Scandia was worried his axe would get rusty if he didn't kill something soon.
When they finally landed, the beautiful 'green land' which Erik had promised them turned out to be little more than a block of ice and rock. Shortly afterwards, they found that the land already had inhabitants, none of whom were thrilled about having strangers coming in.
One day, Iceland and Scandia were out hunting when, out of nowhere, a tall figure lunged at Scandia and tackled him to the ground. The figure was a woman; a beautiful but clearly very angry woman who was attempting to drive a stone knife into Scandia's throat. Scandia, for his part, seemed more amused than anything, especially when he found she was strong enough that he couldn't fight his way out of her grasp.
"Hello, pretty lady," Scandia said with a cocky smile.
The woman, seeing she couldn't get her knife into his throat as he held her wrists, slammed her head against his and knocked him colder than a mackerel.
"I don't really want to think too much about how things went from there," Iceland told the group. "After that meeting, though, Scandia kept following the woman around. I never learned her name, but all the tribes I encountered called her 'Mother.'"
"That was Grandma," said South Dakota. "She was Native North America. At least, she was the land that Dad and Uncle Canada represent, now, before it all got colonized."
Iceland went on to explain Greenland's origins, Scandia going on the run after he'd angered Native North America and her tribes, and how Iceland saw America and Canada as babies right before he returned to Greenland and found that Scandia was gone. He recollected his adventures alongside Leif Erikson and the building of Vinland at what was now L'Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland and Labrador.
Everyone sat in silence for a long time as they digested Iceland's revelation. Finally, after putting two and two together, Denmark leapt to his feet.
"America and Canada are our brothers!" he exclaimed.
"Sit down, Denmark, you're embarrassing yourself," said Norway.
But Denmark didn't listen and, instead, picked the Dakotas up and started to hug them tightly.
"That means these two really are our nephews," he added happily.
North Dakota mumbled something which Norway was fairly certain was an unkind word in Norwegian. In fact, Norway was reasonably certain it was something he'd called Denmark on more than one occasion, himself.
"But, Icey," Denmark said, at last. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Would any of you have believed me?" Iceland said. "I wrote the Vinland Saga to tell you all about the new land I found, but you thought I was making it up."
"Oh, Iceland," Finland said. "We're sorry. We just thought, after Scandia disappeared…"
"That I started imagining things? Well, Vinland was real. And, yet, no one ever acknowledged that I was the first European to ever see North America."
"That's not true," North Dakota said with a slight frown. "We Americans remember it. Why else would we celebrate Leif Erikson day?"
"You have what?"
"October 9th. It was Minnesota's idea originally, wasn't it, North? I mean, yes, the date was chosen because it was the date that the Restauration arrived in New York Harbor, beginning the first major wave of immigrants from Norway to America, but it's not like we had the exact day of the year when Erikson arrived noted down. Anyway, you don't need to worry about being remembered, Uncle Iceland. None of us have ever forgotten and I know Dad and Uncle Canada have really been hoping you guys would acknowledge the family ties. I mean, the only reason neither of them ever said anything was because they thought you all knew but just didn't care. I guess all of us have had a few miscommunications.
"Well, now that we've cleared this up, who's hungry? I brought lutefisk!"
South Dakota's cheerful demeanor helped relieve the tension that had built up and, steadily, everyone managed to relax. Iceland's previously closed-off attitude slowly lightened as the state began talking about some of the crazy things he and North Dakota had gotten up to over the years. North Dakota, for his part, ate in silence; at one point, though, the enigmatic American state shared a subtle glance with Iceland, rummaged in his pocket for a moment, and then pulled out a package of licorice.
"Lakkrís?" North Dakota said quietly, offering Iceland a piece which the Nordic accepted.
Author's Note: I'm afraid I won't be able to post as frequently as I was before, as I am about to start a five-month internship. I will do what I can to keep things going, so don't think I've abandoned this fic if I don't update for a long period. I also turn twenty-five next Tuesday (I will officially be one quarter of a century old).
Also, thanks to Echoed Memory for how you described North Dakota (as I'm sure you noticed, I quite liked the comparison to Hoth and Westerosi North).
Hold kjeft – Norwegian for "shut up."
Pabbi – Icelandic for "Papa."
Lakkrís – Icelandic for "licorice."
I do not recommend picking up rattlesnakes and forcing them to wear tiny top hats; North Dakota is a trained professional and the only one badass enough to get away with it. However, I do recommend looking up pictures of snakes in hats on the internet, as they are weirdly cute.
South Dakota was the location of the Wounded Knee Massacre (December 29, 1890) in which the U.S. Army Cavalry killed 150-300 Lakota men, women, and children at the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation. The army had entered the reservation with the intention of disarming the Lakota and forcing them to move from their encampment. During the disarmament, one man refused to give up his gun and it went off accidentally. The U.S. troops mistook it as an attack and opened fire and what few Lakota men who still had guns returned fire in an attempt to protect the civilians (to add insult to injury, the U.S. government awarded twenty Medals of Honor to troops who participated in the massacre and have yet to rescind them). Because of this, not only does Lakota have an injury in his leg, but the severity of the massacre was so awful that it left a wound on the very land in which it took place (i.e. South Dakota).
According to a study I read recently, North Dakota is one of the most efficiently run states in the U.S., so I think he gets his paperwork done months in advance so he can go and do things that peak his interest.
South Dakota's four distinct curls in his hair are meant to indicate the four faces on Mt. Rushmore (kind of like America's Nantucket). Mt. Rushmore was also created by Gutzon Borglum and his son, Lincoln Borglum, who were of Danish origins. Rushmore was originally going to be carved with the faces of Lewis and Clark (the famous explorers), Red Cloud (a leader of the Oglala Lakota), and Buffalo Bill Cody (the Wild West frontiersman and showman).
Both North and South Dakota have notable Nordic-Germanic populations. North Dakota is even the meeting place for the largest Scandinavian event in North America, Norsk Høstfest.
In WWII, Norway was occupied by the Germans. The Norwegians fiercely resisted the occupation (my dad's friend's mother was a teenage girl in Norway during the time and routinely went out to eliminate German soldiers whenever she could). The Allies (in particular the United States) even sent in spies to help the Norwegians sabotage German bases and scientific/industrial centers.
North Dakota is the largest consumer of beer in the U.S., hence why beer would be an ideal Christmas present for him (as I mentioned last chapter) and why it's his preferred method of payment for his tracking services.
My headcanon about America and Canada doing the DNA test to find out about their family is meant to mirror that scene in Hetalia between Iceland and Norway, in which archaeological excavation is meant to represent a DNA test.