Reunion with Strangers (Viking Nordics x Reader)

Breakfast Time!

Sorry, it took so long to update this story. I know how popular it's been getting, thanks to you guys, but I had lost the notes for a while. This made it really hard to remember the story, so I just decided to wait until I found the notes. Well, here it is. A new chapter just for you. :)

Words You Might Need to Know:
(1): Jarl- A Danish or Norse man of noble birth.
(2): Pølse- Danish for sausage. (Pool-suh)
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You studied the face reflecting off the mirror of lake water, observing your features with in scrupulous detail. You poked and prodded your face for a distinction between you and the painting. You hoped it was just a trick of the eye, a convincing illusion. A simple mistake perhaps.

You patted your face with more water. Nope, it was still you.

Lukas is just too good of an artist. If only Mathias had painted it...

Your internal dialogue was interrupted by that very same Norwegian. He stumbled out of the forest in a flurry of leaves and thrashing grass. His eyes, wide and frantic, landed upon you instantly.

He sighed, his eyes softened with a renewed relief and his usual reserve settled onto his, previously tense, expression.

You rose to your feet in a wobbly fashion. Taking a step forward, you cleared your throat to compose your jumbled circus of wild thoughts.

"...What is the matter?..." Lukas spoke.

You wracked your brain for a suitable answer. His subtle worry drew a response from your quivering lips.

"I-I just felt queasy is all. Don't worry about me."

You knew that wouldn't assuage his latent feelings. His mouth was a rigid line going across his face.

"Get back to the cabin..."

You and Lukas remained in an unwavering silence. Not the peaceful, serene, silence of painting. It was the weighted and lengthy silence that hung in the air like fog and sunk down onto your chest.

Both pairs of boots scraped over the chunks of gravel and smooth pebbles. They crunched and shifted beneath heavy footfalls. Two sets of feet, unaccompanied. Alone.

You saw the wooden frame of the cabin poke out from the distance. The cabin's worn and quaint exterior was a welcome sight. A certain refuge for you in this disorienting time.

Smoke curled into the sky from the chimney. A thick scent of sausages, bread, and pastries tumbled out of the chimney and submerged you in its enticing aroma. The prospect of food gave you the energy to flit over the bed of stones and hop into the porch with a giddy skip.

Breakfast will help me sort all this out! What was I even sad about in the first place?

Lukas ambled onto the porch's sturdy planks. Still, his plethora of persistent thoughts were churning behind those distant eyes. His preceding talkativeness was replaced by the usual uninterested glances. In spite of his preoccupation, he went out of his way to open the door for you.

Yet, again that warm feeling thumped against your chest. Your heart awoke from its sullen slumber in a flurry of colorful emotions. You did all you could to retain this uncanny excitement.

It feels like my heart is doing a gymnastics routine in my chest!

Clearing the doorway as quickly as possible, you dashed into the dining room. You were just in time. Berwald has just finished setting out the wooden eating utensils.

You scooted one of the chairs out from under the table and plopped down eagerly.

Before you was a feast fit for a Jarl(1). Every inch of the table was home to some sort of appetizing dish. The first thing to catch your eye were the platters of assorted pastries. Danishes, strudels, muffins, each one crafted with precise care. Along with the pastries were two fat loaves of bread. Butter drizzled down the loaves in rich golden rivulets. Steins waited at each seat, flowing with a strange drink.

Any more food and that table might crack!

Whips of steam curled off gleaming sausages, perfuming the room in a delectable scent. You eyed them hungrily, almost salivating.

Mathias romped over to where you sat. A white apron hung from his broad shoulders and swished back and forth with each step.

"Want some of my pølse(2), huh?" He smirked, skewered a sausage onto his fork, and began wiggling it in your face.

"Um... S-sure."

You bit a sliver off the end of the sausage.

"Wow! This is awesome, Mathias!"

"Ha! I knew you would like it!" He leaned over and whispered with a wink. "Maybe I can show you more of my pølse later."

Thunk!

Lukas' spoon had connected with the top of Mathias' head, creating a hollow sound.

"Ow! Come on, Nor! That was super hard!"

Lukas glanced at the Dane, unperturbed.

"If it was really that hard, we would have heard your tiny brain rattle."

The Dane brushed off the comment with one of his own.

"Hey! It wouldn't be too bad having a maraca for a head!"

"Hopefully, you'd make use of that head for once." Lukas sighed.

Berwald had came from the kitchen and sat down at the head of the table. He had been viewing the entertaining exchange between the two. Finally fed up with his siblings, he projected his booming voice across the room.

"Eat."

Mathias sauntered back to his chair and dug into his food ravenously.

You ate slowly at first, but after a few moments, found yourself clearing your plate at an astonishing pace. You had no idea how hungry you were. You finished before everyone else. You studied the curious drink that was in your stein. It frothed and foamed in the mug.

You sipped the peculiar liquid in tiny gulps. It was different than anything you've drank before.

"What's this drink called?" You asked Berwald.

"Mead."

"Mead? Where'd it come from?"

Lukas interjected "We bought it from our trading post. Dublin. I'm sure you've heard of it."

Mathias stopped stuffing Danishes in his mouth and looked up from his plate.

"You have to have been to Dublin! It's awesome there. You can get anything you want from there! We should take you some time!" He beamed."Speaking of trips, I want you to come with me after breakfast. I want to show you something!"

I'm curious to see how this one ends...