DISCLAIMER: Hetalia: Axis Powers – Hidekaz Himaruya
THE CALL OF THE WILD
INTERLUDE
AUTHOR'S NOTE: For anyone interested, the unofficial "Prologue" of this arc is a separate one-shot called: Once Upon A Time In The North. However, you do not need to read it to continue reading Part Three of The Call of the Wild. Also, because Faroe Islands and Greenland don't have official Hetalia human-names, I found these on the Internet. :)
CAST OF CHARACTERS (in order of appearance):
DENMARK — Mikkel Densen
NORWAY — Bjørn Thomassen
FAROE ISLANDS — Andrias Densen
ICELAND — Emil Densen
GREENLAND — Kujâk Densen
SWEDEN — Berwald Oxenstierna
FINLAND — Tino Väinämöinen
SEALAND — Peter Oxenstierna
NORTHERN CLANS
Mikkel stood over the bed he had just ripped to shreds. It was his bed, in his private rooms in the longhouse, in the clan that his family ruled, but it was not his blood soaking the furs. It wasn't even the blood of his kin and for that he was glad. He would have hated to kill a kinsman, no matter the slight. Blood-ties and verbal oaths were sacred in the north. But for this he would have forsaken any vow, be it to gods or mortals or both. This was not just a slight, it was a crime. It was a monstrosity. The body that lay sprawled on its face with its chest cavity torn open belonged to an Alpha of good blood but a bad soul, and Mikkel was not sorry he had killed him. He was only sorry he had not done it with his bare hands.
"Mick?" Bjørn whispered.
Mikkel dropped the knife and knelt in front of his Omega-mate.
Bjørn was shaking, a hand pressed firmly to his mouth because he didn't want to wake the sleeping pups. His violet eyes were wide and wet, reflecting the firelight, but no tears fell.
Mikkel grabbed an un-bloodied blanket and draped it around the Omega, whose frock had been ripped open, then gathered him into his arms. "It's okay," he said, his voice a raw, angry growl. He rubbed Bjørn's back; to comfort himself or the Omega, he didn't know. He rubbed hard, absently rubbing the blood off his hands and onto the blanket. "It's okay, Bee—"
"It's not okay," Bjørn said, clutching the Alpha's shirt. His eyes flicked to the bed and back in panic. "He was the Clan Leader's heir—"
"He was a monster!" Mikkel snarled, jerking Bjørn into a hug. He buried his nose in the Omega's pale-blonde hair, and vehemently said: "He deserved to die."
"His clan won't think so." Bjørn's voice was quiet, but sharp. It cut like a knife. "They'll say you broke the law of guest right. The Clan Leader will demand your death to compensate. A life for a life."
Mikkel shook his head. "I'm allowed to protect my Omega-mate and pups from danger. The law states—"
"The law needs proof, Mick, which we don't have. If you take this grievance to the jarls, you'll only expedite your own execution. They'll stone you."
"Bjørn—"
"Think of your pups." Bjørn pulled back, his eyes alight with fire and fear; violet glaring into royal-blue. His hands coiled tightly in Mikkel's shirt. "They need you," he said. "They need their sire alive. I need you alive, so please, please don't fight this. It's not worth it."
Mikkel clenched his jaw and leant forward, pressing his forehead to Bjørn's. "Yes, you are," he said.
"Mick, please."
"They'll find his body, Bee. They'll know I killed him. There's nothing I can do about that now."
"I know."
"Then what?" Mikkel snapped, desperately yielding to the Omega's judgement. "What the fuck do we do?"
Bjørn tipped his head up and kissed Mikkel. Then he said:
"Flee. We take our pups and we fucking flee."
Bjørn was not afraid of what had happened, but of what would happen if they didn't leave. He was afraid—terrified—of the consequences Mikkel would face for what they had done.
Mikkel packed their belongings, throwing half-a-dozen satchels over his shoulders and then headed down to the water. Bjørn went for the pups:
"Andrias, Emil, Kujâk, wake up," he said, shaking them. "Wake up!"
"Papa, what—? Why?"
"Come on," said Bjørn, shoving armfuls of clothes at them. He began dressing little Kujâk even as the Alpha-pup yawned, blinking sleep from his eyes. His round arms, still soft with puppy-fat, flopped languidly as the Omega wrestled him into a shirt and sweater and coat, then wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled up his hood. "We're leaving," he said, pulling Kujâk up and yanking his wool mittens on as he did. To the other two pups—an Alpha and an Omega, both who dressed themselves—he said: "Quickly, we're leaving, let's go."
"But why?" asked Emil as his Omega-father ushered he and his brothers out the backdoor and into the night.
A wide-bellied knaar bobbed at the shoreline, its sail unfurled. Mikkel loaded the satchels, supplies, and then his Alpha-pups inside.
"Papa," Emil repeated. He grabbed Bjørn's sleeve. "What's going on? Why is Dad taking the knaar instead of the longship? And where is his crew? And why are we going along?"
Bjørn stopped and faced his Omega-pup. He cupped his cheek. "Later," he promised. "I'll explain everything later, my clever Omega-pup, but right now you just have to trust us. You have to listen to everything your sire says and not ask questions. No arguing, okay? Okay—?" he insisted when Emil only stared, frightened by the urgency in Bjørn's eyes.
"O-okay," he nodded. He took Bjørn's hand and they hurried to the boat.
"Are we going on a voyage?" Kujâk was asking.
"Yes, my brave little warrior," Mikkel smiled, patting the Alpha-pup's head. "This will be your first voyage. Are you excited?"
Kujâk nodded eagerly as Mikkel lowered him onto Andrias' lap. The oldest of Mikkel and Bjørn's pups—nine-years-old—looked wearily at his sire, his grey eyes harbouring a quiet understanding beyond his years. He was a stoic soul, but a sturdy one. Like a rock he weathered whatever task he was given. He wrapped his arms around Kujâk like ropes, meeting Mikkel's eyes and silently promising to guard his younger brothers when Mikkel couldn't.
"Look, Papa!" Kujâk said gleefully, thrusting out his arms and waving them up-and-down, pretending to row. "I'm a member of Dad's crew now!"
"Yes, I see that," Bjørn said absently, lifting Emil into the boat. Then he turned to Mikkel.
Ready?
Ready to flee? Ready to leave our home and clan and everything we know behind? Ready for an adventure?
Mikkel nodded, but no sooner had he un-tethered the boat did the smile fall from his lips. Suddenly, he had an axe in his hand and had placed himself defensively in front of the boat, his sensitive nose reading a scent. A threat. Bjørn vaulted into the boat and grabbed a fishing-spear, then turned to face the shadows lurking nearby. Now that he knew what to listen for, he could hear cautious footsteps creeping over the forest floor, drawing closer. Footsteps in the dead of a deep, dark night when footsteps had no business being heard. Mikkel growled loudly, and called:
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
An Omega emerged from the trees. A small Omega clutching a chubby bundle to his chest, a slumbering pup. He was dressed for travel in a heavy coat and cloak with the hood pulled overhead. His big, round eyes looked dark in a face as white as milk.
Mikkel relaxed his axe-arm, but looked confused. "Who are you?"
"Please," said the Omega bravely, "don't attack."
"I'm not going to attack—" Mikkel started, then stiffened. His reassurance morphed into a livid growl as an Alpha stepped out of the forest to stand beside the Omega, his mate. "You!" he spat, brandishing the axe; showing his teeth. "What the fuck do you want?"
Berwald Oxenstierna was a tall, blonde Alpha with tense blue eyes that bore into Mikkel. He was a revered voyager in his homeland, with a good reputation for being fair and merciful; a warrior and a leader of Alphas, second-in-command of his pack, his crew; and the first-cousin of the Alpha who had attacked Bjørn.
"Answer me!" Mikkel yelled, scaring his pups and waking the one cradled in Berwald's mate's arms. "What the fuck do you want?"
"Please," said the Omega, bouncing his crying pup. He looked back at Berwald, then faced Mikkel. He met Bjørn's eyes, and said:
"We want to come with you."
