Title: Above Us Only Sky
Author/Artist: Yuurei
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Fem!Sweden/Fem!Finland, cameos from Fem!Denmark, Fem!Norway, and Fem!Iceland. Nyotalia-verse, so everyone is genderbent.
Rating: M
Warnings: First time Hetalia writer, possible probable major fail, questionable early 20th century medicine, girl on girl loving. Also, the character designs I used for Finland and Sweden can be seen in Hanabishi Vermeiren's amazing Nordics Genderbend pic: Without a doubt, the most beautiful Su-san ever. Praise her!
Summary: A reunion a long time coming, on a snowy winter's night. And beyond that. Written for a kink meme request, and part of the Only A Northern Song series.
Finland doesn't know why she is here, staring up at this house she has not seen for such a long time. She is independent now, beholden to no one but herself, and there is so much to be done even months after the civil war. Freedom was dear, and the conflict that nearly tore her in two and even now leaves her body aching with the hunger and pain and bitterness of her people dearer still.
And yet here she stands, in front of the home she and Sweden shared for countless years. Memories, good and bad alike rise from the recesses of her mind. It feels like even a century hasn't changed the house, a thought she is unsure pleases her or not. The snow drifting gently down from the grey sky falls on them both, pure white against the aged oak of the dwelling. She brushes it off her coat absently, causing the rifle slung over her back-a constant companion as of late-to shift. It is an easy gesture not reflecting the inner turmoil she was feeling in the slightest. The movement causes her to wince as it pulls at one of many still-raw wounds, her soft hiss of pain breaking the quiet of the woods.
It's the silence itself that gives her the nerve to stay even this long. There is no warm glow of light within the house, no sounds coming from it. Finland tells herself it's for the best, that to let Sweden see her like this would undo everything she struggled so hard for. Did independence mean anything at all if she just returns to the way things were when she was under the yoke of stronger Nations?
These thoughts don't stop Finland from missing Sweden so deeply it aches like an injury all its own. She wants desperately to see her again, and only the remnants of her tattered pride hold her back. Finland doesn't want Sweden to see her like this, frame too thin and marred with scars old and new. Just imagining those vivid aquamarine eyes looking on with pity is almost enough to sap the last bit of strength keeping her upright.
Finland's breath comes out in small white puffs, a pale echo of the snowflakes that are now coming down with greater force. Experience tells her this is just the beginning, and the wan daylight will give way to an ivory-covered earth blanketed with black night. For a brief second, she imagines how such an occurrence would have once played out-herself and Sweden feasting on a hearty, warm meal before retiring to curl against each other under thick blankets and warming pans to defy the weather with their own heat.
As if to twist the knife, the cold snow piling up on her head pulls her viciously out of her fantasy. Shaking it out of pale hair held in two loose plaits, Finland stamps her boots to free them from the drifts. She shouldn't have come in the first place, but staying any longer would bring her to beyond the point she could forgive herself for her weakness. Focusing her gaze on the house, she cements its image in her mind. With things as they are, who knows when the next time she sees it will be-
There is a sound of something large and heavy falling onto the snow behind her. Reflexes still razor sharp after the bloody civil war, Finland whirls around in an instant, rifle snatched off her back and aimed perfectly, only to find herself rooted to the spot. Sweden stands before her, strong and tall as in her memories even if the eyes Finland remembers have a somber cast to them they hadn't before. They each freeze in place, the firewood she had been carrying scattered about like a barrier.
"Sve-…Sweden…" Finland stammers out, lowering her gun. Her normal habit of nervously babbling fails her for once as Sweden drinks the sight of her in so intensely it has a pressure all its own.
"Finland," Sweden murmurs in turn. Long hair in its loose ponytail stirs as she slowly closes the distance between them, moving carefully like she fears Finland will start and run if she approaches too quickly. The taller woman's brow knits, making her look even more severe than usual, and Finland can practically see the thoughts running through her mind-hasn't been eating, clothes have seen better days, obviously moving like she had been injured…
Unable to deal with that intense gaze, Finland looks down and once again berates herself for coming. Heat rises in her cheeks as she recalls Russia's voice, silkily commenting, "Just two weeks between independence and civil war…that must be some kind of record, yes?" And here she was, only proving the other Nation's point.
"I'm sorry," Finland blurts out, moving back. Sweden's outstretched arm, nearly close enough to touch her, falls as her face goes unreadable. "I just…I know you were going through some trouble yourself, and I just wanted to see that you were okay. " She forcibly shuts her mouth, taking a deep breath. "A-and it looks like you are, so I should go now-"
At most, she manages a half-step of distance before Sweden's hand grips her wrist. Looking up at the taller woman for an explanation, Finland knows she should tug it away. If only it were as easy as that.
"Wait," Sweden says, voice urgent. "Y'r bleedin'."
"Ah?" Finland feels now the wetness springing up from a deep slash on her shoulder. Ekenäs-no wonder Sweden had noticed, even with the layers of clothing over it. The cloying metallic smell of blood hanging in the air alone would have been enough to give it away. Still, she presses down on the wound and tries to hide her grimace. "It's alright, I can handle it myself-"
She halts mid-sentence upon seeing Sweden's mouth thin, making her look more forbidding even if Finland knows this is not her intention. Finland bites her lip, at a loss for words against eyes that seem to look right through her.
"Pl'se," Sweden speaks slowly, her fingers wonderfully warm through her thick gloves. She shifts awkwardly, cheeks already ruddy with the cold wind darkening more. "'s okay t'get help. B'cause 'm y'r…"
Silence. Finland knows it isn't just the cold and blood loss that's making her tremble right now. A few moments pass where they stay like that, utterly still, before something Finland can't-or doesn't have the courage-to name compels her to give a tiny nod.
"C'mon," Sweden says, letting her wrist go to pick up the dropped wood. As a nod to what's left of Finland's dignity, she doesn't help her up the steps but nonetheless remains carefully behind her just in case.
Finland sits on a soft goose-down quilt draped over the living room rug-one of the few things that has actually been replaced in a century's time, along with the candles for new electric wiring-and tries not to make her sneaking glances around too obvious. Not that Sweden can see her, kneeling in front of the fireplace as she is to coax up a flame, but the illicit feeling remains.
Not much has changed outwardly, but the air is somehow different. Starker. Colder. The warm spirit she remembers even through the bad moments seems to have faded away. Finland casts a quick look around once more and wonders where Hanatamago is. Surely if Sweden had kept the fluffy white puppy, at least she would have not been completely alone in their…her…house?
A soft grunt distracts her before the sound of a fire growing covers it. Standing up as it slowly roars to life, Sweden brushes her thick wool pants off.
"Th're. Give't a minute for 't to be w'rm'r," Sweden comments, walking over to where Finland is and sitting down herself. She rummages through the medical kit she brought down from upstairs, pulling out bandages and the like and laying them out in perfect rows with her typical neatness. Another thing that hasn't changed. Finland watches her quietly, finding the sight strangely comforting until Sweden looks up and catches her at it. Redness rises to her face with amazing speed, and she turns her head to stare at the blazing fire like it's the most fascinating thing she's ever seen.
Sweden gives a little cough, her own way of saying she wanted something but was too embarrassed to go so far as outright mentioning it. Finland is pretty sure her cheeks are outdoing the flames in heat right now, but still goes to face her again.
"Sve?" She asks, noticing with a tiny clench of her heart that Sweden is a bit pink herself. The other woman fidgets with her ponytail for a second, obviously reluctant to speak her mind.
"Y'r shirt," Sweden mumbles, the light from the fire reflecting in her glasses as she looks down. She doesn't say anything more, and it takes a moment before Finland figures out what she means.
"O-oh. Yeah, I guess I do have to take it o-off," Finland stammers unnecessarily, lifting her hands away from the temporary compress on her cut to rest on her shirt. Her stomach twists anxiously as she slowly undoes the buttons, dreading Sweden's reaction. It's true, they've seen all of each other many, many times, but never…never like this.
The ticking of the old wind-up clock on the mantle seems like the beat of an execution drum by the time Finland's trembling fingers reach the last button. Sliding her shirt off with some difficultly, she hesitates at her thermal undershirt before tugging it off too, followed by her camisole. Finland still has the wrap binding her breasts in place, her pants and various bandages, but has still never felt so painfully naked as she does now. She holds her breath, just waiting for the inevitable look of pity or disgust, each equally hurtful to take.
She'll handle it, all the same. Finland's shouldered far worse in her time.
She pushes a strand of pale hair out of her eye and waits. What she gets is… something completely unexpected. Sweden reaches out as if to touch her-indeed, there is the merest breath of space between her fingertips and Finland's bare skin. It remains that way even as she skims from her cheek, to her lips, to her neck, to her shoulder with its wound still red and open and beyond. But she never goes beyond that paper-thin distance, never pushes past that point to make it herself against Finland once more. There is no trace of pity on her face, or disgust, just an acceptance that nearly makes Finland's heart split with her conflicting emotions.
"'m s'rry," Sweden speaks up, slow and so quiet it is almost hidden by the crackling fire. "'m s'rry I couldn't be there t'back y'up."
And that is the thing, isn't it? Finland thinks on how bitter the feeling had been throughout the civil war-of the resentment of her people towards the ones who had offered pretty words of support and none of the substance behind it. She knows perfectly well Sve had her own people to care for too, and her own battles to be fought-and that knowing and feeling in spite of it are two very different things. But there are the feelings of the Finns and her own feelings, and they aren't always one and the same. She is a Nation, but she is a person too. She has her own mind and heart, colored though they may be by the nature of her existence.
"I was angry, and hurt. I thought our history meant more than that, and maybe I even resented you for it," Finland answers honestly, feeling Sweden doesn't deserve to be lied to and knows her well enough to see through it anyway-she always has. Sweden flinches but still holds herself straight up, ready to receive Finland's judgment. "But I never hated you, not even for a second."
Sweden stares at her like she can't quite believe the words she's hearing-in all the years Finland's known her she doesn't think she's ever seen Sweden look so dumbfounded. She presses on, her voice oddly distant to her own ears, "Because I know Sve, and she's so kind…if it were just up to her she would surely have come. T-that's what I would tell myself when it was really bad, and…I still think it's the truth."
If it had been anyone else the expression would have passed unnoticed. However, Finland is not just anyone else, and the gratitude that lights up Sweden's eyes feels like benediction and warms her like mulled wine. She flushes deeply, but for how the air in the room seems less heavy now, it is not such a bad trade.
Finland sees Sweden frown abruptly, looking down at her straight rows of medical supplies. Just as suddenly the other woman rises to her full height and strides off to the kitchen, leaving her alone by the fire. She isn't gone long, returning with a plate laden with bread and cheese along with a bottle tucked under her arm. Sweden sits back down with a thump, laying the bounty of the trip in front of her.
Finland picks up the bottle, examines the label. Vodka. Quite a good brand too, even if she really prefers koskenkorva. It's been a long time since she had such quality alcohol-her mind flashes back to the champagne France had gifted her at the independence celebrations. If she had known what was to come she would have imbibed quite a bit more, but she had been far too busy just trying to get a minute alone with Sweden amidst all the politics and pomp. The most she had managed was a smile at the formal recognition ceremony, and at the time she had foolishly assumed when all the fuss died down she could see Sweden again. Well, she had been completely wrong about that one.
"…S'rry," Sweden says, breaking her out of her musings. "B'ttle of aspirin was empty, an' this is t'best I c'n do f'r now." She pauses and glances down at her freshly scrubbed hands before continuing, "Got t'stitch up y'r shoulder."
That explained it. Vodka for the pain, and food so the liquor wouldn't just make an entirely new problem. Finland scoots closer to Sweden and picks up a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese, munching on them while Sweden threads a needle expertly. Soaking a cotton ball in rubbing alcohol, she swipes it against the metal before setting it down. She repeats the action with a second cotton ball, dabbing it delicately against the slash on Finland's shoulder. It stings, but Finland hides the bulk of her reaction as she finishes eating.
"Ready?" Sweden asks, pouring out a large shot of the vodka. Finland nods before holding her hand out for the glass. Taking it, she slams the spirit with a single swallow, feeling the familiar burn of it flaring down her throat.
"Thank you, Sve," Finland whispers as Sweden crouches in front of her. She closes her eyes, the vodka bring heat against the coolness of the needle on her skin. Something presses into her hand, and she doesn't have to look to know it's a hunk of leather for her to bite down on. "For everything."
"…Th'nk you f'r lettin' me," Sweden responds slowly, giving Finland's arm a small squeeze of intent. Finland slips the leather in her mouth and steels herself for what's to come. "Y've gotten so str'ng. Don't need me 'r anyone else now."
Finland would snort at that-she feels anything but strong at the moment, and wonders if she ever would compared to Sweden-but the pinch of the needle piercing her skin robs her of that thought. She grinds her jaw and tries not to cry out as the taller Nation works, sealing up the wound with tiny, precise stitches. Time stretches on for a small eternity until Sweden finally finishes, Finland's shoulder still throbbing despite some numbness from the alcohol. Sweden goes off to wash her hands again, leaving her to pull the leather piece from her mouth and wipe it on her pants.
In short order Sweden comes back, applying gauze then bandaging Finland's shoulder up with the skill of one who has done such a thing frequently. Finland looks at the bottle of vodka longingly after Sweden finishes her ministrations, trying to summon the boldness to ask for a second shot.
"Wanna 'noth'r?" Sweden speaks up, making Finland's face go brilliant red at being noticed. She slumps down in embarrassment but nods nonetheless, making to reach for the liquor only to have Sweden do so at the same time. Their hands knocking against each other and the bottle cause it to wobble precariously, and Sweden's fingers end up getting splashed before she manages to right the glass again.
"Oh no…Sve, I'm so sorry!" Finland apologizes frantically, taking Sweden's wet hand in her own without thinking about it. She studies it, making sure the other nation got out unscathed. Sweden did, but Finland can't help feeling mournful over the vodka. Such a waste.
A daring notion emerges from her mind, causing her to blush hotly. Finland tries to suppress the thought, but it just won't go away now. Not with Sve right here in front of her, with her skin so warm and smelling of pine and newly fallen snow. Besides, a darker part of her points out, what else does she have to lose?
"M'hand-" Sweden begins, a degree of confusion written on her face. Finland cuts her off with a little smile, lifting her hand up to press a kiss to it.
"L…let me, Sve," Finland says, the words coming out in a husky tone. She moves her mouth from Sweden's palm to her fingers, so long and graceful in their way. "I'll take care of it…"
Her tongue darts out, gently laving the digits. Finland trails it up and down, reveling in the mix of heady spirit and the sweet taste of Sweden's skin. Sweden starts at her actions, but Finland's drunker on the combination than any amount of alcohol could ever make her. She supposes she should feel at least embarrassed at her own brazenness if nothing else, but she hasn't been able to touch Sweden for what feels like forever. It's too much longing to hold back.
"F-fin…" Sweden breathes out, shivering softly. In the back of her mind Finland wonders if she would have found the Lioness of Scandinavia as intimidating when they first met if she had known how cute the taller Nation was when she was blushing furiously. Particularly when Finland starts sucking at her fingers, enjoying the little shudders she makes at her tongue brushes against sensitive skin. "W-wh't are y'-"
"Mm…Sve, you know it's wrong to waste good vodka," Finland says as she releases her, and if she's breathing unusually hard Sweden is at least not the type to comment on it. It takes all her nerve, but she lifts her hand to Sweden's mouth, traces her full lower lip with her thumb. "Here too, there's some vodka. Should I…help you with it?"
The hesitation in Sweden's eyes is almost as easy to read as the desire, one obviously at war with the other. Finland is practically straddling her lap by this point; they are so close to one another. She can feel Sweden's heart pounding in her chest, sees the pulse in her pale throat hammering like a mad thing. Their eyes lock, and right now her entire world consists of Sve. The gold of her hair, the blue of her eyes, those colors that echo the sunlit summer sky in Stockholm, colors that echo the flag of her country. Even when Finland just found Sweden scary-and that seems like forever ago now-she always thought she was beautiful. Like a Valkyrie of legend, overwhelming strength and loveliness wrought together as one.
"…If y'pl'se," Sweden finally says, her voice oddly hoarse. When Finland kisses her, gently at first and then harder as her self-control snaps, her body is stiff like she is bracing herself for rejection. Finland slings her arms around Sweden's neck, pulling her closer still until Sweden's frame relaxes and she returns the embrace. The hold the other Nation has on Finland's waist is firm, almost desperately so, but her tongue tracing Finland's lips is unfailingly tender. Reading her intention easily, Finland parts her mouth to open it to Sweden, their tongues tangling fervently against each other.
A moan escapes Finland, and need is starting to coil hot and strong within her. She moves on downward, feeling around for the hem of Sweden's thick turtleneck before sliding her hands underneath it and the camisole the taller woman wears as well, touching Sve's bare skin with reverence. Finland traces her hands up Sweden's back, feeling the shifting of muscles under her palms.
They break apart for badly needed air, both of them panting and flushed. An unspoken signal passes between the two of them, and Finland has Sweden's turtleneck tugged off and tossed aside seconds before Sweden's hands start working at her breast bindings. Sweden's normally capable hands fumble at the ties, but considering Finland has started nibbling at the crook of her neck-Dalälven, Finland recalls-the distraction isn't surprising.
"Too c'mplic'ted," Sweden half-grunts, half-groans as Finland trails biting little kisses up her neck. Her fingers work the knot keeping the bindings secured for a minute longer before it finally gave. She tugs it off, continuing, "G't something easier t'loos'n."
"Mm-hmm…" Finland makes a noise of acknowledgement but really has the bulk of her attention occupied with nipping the tender skin just below Sve's jaw, a spot that has never failed in the past to make her breath hitch and even now holds true. She sucks at the bite and then replies, "But it's not like I can really afford go without, Sve."
"Th't's true," Sweden says, and she catches something of a smirk in her voice as the taller woman cups Finland's full breasts before starting to knead. It's her turn to moan now, and try as she might Finland can't muster the will to be annoyed at having the tables turned on her. On the other hand, she is a firm believer in retaliation. She pulls Sweden's shift off with trembling hands, rubbing at nipples that already stand rosy and stiff.
At that Sweden gasps and falls back to the quilt, color rushing to her face. This is perfectly acceptable to Finland, who straddles Sweden's waist and leans down to kiss her again and again. Her mouth is soft and a little chapped, and tastes just a bit of lingonberry jam. Something about that makes Finland smile, her lips turning up against Sweden's even as they press down more fervently. Sve then parts her mouth and the kiss deepens, their tongues snaking hot and wet against one another in a duel that had no real loser.
Finland slowly pulls away for breath, and just looks at Sweden on the quilt. It's far too much to resist, her blue eyes fogged over with desire and blonde locks falling loose from her ponytail in thick pieces. Reaching down, Finland pulls her ribbon off to let her hair spill in sunshine waves across the quilt. Unable to stop herself, she runs her fingers and lets her adrenaline-heighted senses savor the silky feel of the strands.
Finland's not so distracted she doesn't notice Sweden starting to unbuckle her belt, however. If anything it just reminds her she needs to remedy the same annoying problem that separates the rest of Sweden from her. Lifting her hips up to make Sweden's task easier, she registers the sound of her belt hitting the wall just as she starts pulling down the zipper on Sweden's pants. It may have been more difficult had their intentions not been geared toward the same end, but without too much trouble Finland and Sweden managed to strip each other of their respective pants and thermal wear…with one small difference between their states of dress.
"Wh't was that ab't goin' without?" Sweden asks, a hint of playfulness creeping out of her otherwise deadpan voice, the effect somewhat reduced by her red face. Finland shrugs, not really bothered by the fact she doesn't have a stitch of clothing on while Sve still has on her white silk bloomers. Actually, that part irritates her more-she should really do something about it. "'m surprised y'didn't freeze."
"I'm strong against the cold," Finland answers, hooking her fingers into the waistband of Sve's undergarment and sliding it quickly off to leave Sweden bare. Finally, she thinks-or rather, would think if the sight before her hadn't left her mind utterly blank. It's captivating beyond words, those long, toned limbs in conjunction with the more sensual curves of hips and chest. Finland reaches out and just strokes her cheek, the normally-pale skin rendered warm pink with arousal and the heat of the nearby fire. Finland swallows dryly and becomes really conscious for the first time of the aching desire between her legs, of the hints of wetness already seeping from her core.
"You're so beautiful, Sve," Finland says without thinking, watching Sweden's lidded blue eyes widen slightly behind her glasses. The urge to touch her is all-consuming by now and so she does, running her hands over her body as if to make up for those hundred years of separation. Just that isn't enough for Finland, and she cranes her neck down, letting her tongue leave a warm, damp trail on Sweden from her neck, to her shoulder, to lower at her firm breasts. The taller Nation shudders underneath her, fingers digging into her shoulders.
"N't-ahh…" Sweden's own moan cuts her off as Finland latches onto her right nipple, sucking and gently biting at the rosy flesh. Finland can feel her heart pounding as she uses her free hand to massage Sve's other breast, but the other woman finds the will to keep speaking from somewhere. "N't…like you. I…y'were so…fr'm even b'fore we all were at Denmark's pl'ce-"
"I know," Finland murmurs, taking a break to switch her mouth's attention from one perfect mound to the other. "You watched me all the time and I never understood why." Her fingers slide slickly against the moist nipple, causing Sweden to rock harder and grind their hips together. The cry she lets out at that is somewhat muffled but still doesn't escape Sve's notice. Her hands, elegant despite their calluses move down Finland's spine to stop at her bottom and squeeze firmly. One of them continues down the curve of her backside and forward, brushing tantalizingly light against Finland's now-slick folds. She jolts against Sweden at that, and she can sense rather than see the other woman's tiny smile.
"Mm…th't good?" Sweden asks rather unnecessarily. She adds more pressure, just enough to make Finland gasp in need. Licking off a bit of the sweat beading up on her skin, Sve starts moving her hand back and forth in a way that causes her blood to burn up.
"As…if you-mm!-need to ask…" Finland retorts, but her words lack heat. Sweden pushes herself up with her free hand and bites down on her collarbone hard enough to leave a mark. This sends a white-hot bolt of pleasure straight to her center, and it's enough for Finland to grow impatient with mere teasing. Twining her legs with those of Sweden, she thrusts her hips slowly downward to bring both their centers together. The action makes that previous flare of enjoyment pale in comparison, encouraging Finland to repeat it as her breathing grew labored.
Focusing on anything but pure gratification gets harder and harder, especially with Sve writhing beneath her in response. Her glasses were askew on her flushed face, and Finland pulls them off entirely to meld their lips together unobstructed. Then Sweden starts to thrust upward in turn, if anything making the intensity of the position skyrocket. It only takes a moment for the two of them to reach a smooth rhythm, the sound of pleasured gasps and skin against skin rising in the air.
It has been a long time and Finland knows her own body. She is close, so painfully close to coming, and if she is any judge Sve is too. Her fingers sink into the toned flesh of Sweden's thighs as she moves faster, desperate to reach that final push needed for release.
"Sve…Sve, Sve-" Finland gasps out, though each breath comes with an effort. It feels at once like her blood is on fire, coiling around her abdomen as the sensation becomes overwhelming. Even remaining upright seems a near-impossible task now. Through the haze of lust her mind was swimming in, she registers Sweden's arms pulling her down for one more hard, hot kiss. Somehow-because it is Sve who is kissing her-this is enough. Lightning and bright white stars flash across her vision as she comes, the orgasm sending waves of incredible bliss through every inch of her body. Dimly, she hears Sve groan out her name before arcing back, liquid heat spilling where they are joined.
All her energy gone, Finland's sweat-covered body slumps limply next to Sweden's. Resting her head on the taller woman's shoulder, Finland feels a warm arm being slung across her back and the whisper of fabric being moved. The part of the quilt pulled over them both is downy and soft, and combined with the still-roaring fire and Sve's body heat it's almost enough to make Finland nod off on the spot. Almost. She's aware Sweden probably expects what's coming, but it has to be said all the same.
"I can't stay, you know," Finland whispers, feeling Sweden still for a moment before relaxing again.
"Y'h," Sweden says after a moment. Her voice is calm if a little sad, but they both understand things will never be like they were before 1809. "I do. But a'least stay t'n'ght."
"I was going to, if you didn't mind," Finland tells her, feeling a small smile form on her face. There's a comfortable quiet in the room only broken by the snapping noise of wood burning. "Hey, Sve…"
"Mm?" Sweden responds, fumbling around for her glasses before sliding them back on so she could actually see Finland.
"Pass the rest of the vodka?" Finland asks in her sweetest tone, grinning at the rumble of laughter that runs through Sweden's frame.
Finland returns to her house, as she knows she must. When the winter frost melts away into greenest spring, she goes out to her garden and plants lily of the valley seeds. Time passes, during which she works hard to rebuild her country, to make her people hold their heads high with pride. Every year her lily of the valley flowers blossom into a near-riotous explosion of white petals, covering the ground like a summer snow. Everyone who sees them compliments her on the beauty of her garden, but Finland never touches it for any reason than pure maintenance. She never clips any of the flowers to bring into her home.
Time passes. For all Finland tries there are circumstances far beyond her control, and soon she finds herself embroiled in yet another war. She is disappointed but not surprised that Sweden doesn't offer official support, but the volunteers and supplies from the neighboring country ease it a little. It feels like it takes everything she's got, but she manages to get through the Winter War intact and make Russia regret ever invading her in the bargain.
Then the Continuation War comes and makes the pain of the Winter War pale in comparison. It feels like the whole world is divided, and once more Sweden chooses neutrality. Finland dislikes it but she at least understands where Sweden is coming from. Like Finland, she is only doing what she thinks is best for her people. It doesn't change the fact that both of them are under the same sky. There are regrets later-there always are-but she is contented with the fact she sought the path that would bring them the most security in trying times.
Finally, finally, the war ends. In the light of revelations of Axis war-crimes, Finland is grateful she escapes mostly untouched. When she gets back home after countless untold hours of negotiation and treaties and concessions, the lily of the valley flowers are on their last legs of life before their winter's rest. Finland kneels down in front of them and breathes in the heady perfume of the blossoms, not caring that the teal of her uniform is getting smudged with dirt. After a moment she gets back up again, brushes herself off, and heads back inside her house.
More time passes. Finland gets through winter and starts building anew. Spring comes in all its vitality, and the beauty of the greenery in her lands spreads a sense of renewal through all her war-weary people. More than that, there is hope. The world has changed in a heartbeat, and it seems an air of optimism has infused the age.
Finland is certainly feeling it, although in her case and on this bright spring day she has a very good reason to do so. She stands in her kitchen, stirring a pot of pea soup. She tastes it for flavor before adding a bit more ham to the bubbling mixture. One more sampling and she is satisfied, turning the heat on the stove down to its lowest setting to let the soup simmer. A timer dings, and Finland pulls out a loaf of steaming bread from the oven and sets it on the counter to cool. Task complete, she pulls her apron off and hangs it up. On her dining table are place settings for two, and a vase near-overflowing with lily of the valley blossoms.
Taking care to walk in absolute silence, Finland moves to her front door. She listens carefully with her body held at ready, before pulling the door open as quickly as she could. It's worth all the planning for the look on Sweden's face alone as the blonde remains frozen in place, a basket containing a now joyously barking Hanatamago in her trembling hands.
"It took you long enough to get here, Sve," Finland says with a smile, and drags Sweden in the house before she can think of making a break for it. "I thought you'd be here an hour ago. I made lunch, by the way. I hope pea soup's alright?"
Sweden's gone into that mode where her face has all the mobility and expression of a brick wall-something Finland knows is a sign she's feeling totally lost. "…'s fine. Be str'nge n't t'have it on a Thursday." Hanatamago squirms out of the basket and leaps to the floor, circling their ankles in a frenzy of doggie joy. Finland takes the plate of extra ham hocks she had put on the table and sets in down in front of Hanatamago. The fluffy white dog sniffs it suspiciously for a second before nibbling away with considerably more enthusiasm. That done, Finland stands up to see Sweden still staring at her.
"H'w did y'…" Sweden begins, looking extremely awkward. It's not that Finland doesn't sympathize with her feelings, but she has no intention of letting Sve go now.
"Denmark called me," Finland says placidly, absently straightening the vase of flowers to be more centered. She hears Sweden make a choking noise behind her, but keeps speaking. "She told me you were coming to drop Hanatamago off, and said I should work things out with you before…let's see…'we get another hundred years of Sverige moping, and trust me Finland it was annoying enough to deal with the first time around'."
"Th't so?" Sweden mutters, and Finland catches something of a murderous gleam she hasn't seen since the Viking age in Sve's eyes. If Sweden and Denmark want to brawl again Finland supposes that's their business, but she really thinks there are better things to be doing now.
"I was happy she did," Finland reaches out to touch Sweden's arm and sees the anger dissipate. "I hadn't seen you for years now."
The muscles in Sweden's arm are tense under Finland's fingers, and her jaw is tightly clenched. Finally she says, "Th'ght y'wouldn't w'nt to."
"Because you sat out of the war?" Finland cuts straight to the point, even if she's afraid Sweden really will run any second. She gentles her voice, strokes Sweden's arm. "Sve…Sve, look at me."
Sweden does, the vulnerability in her eyes speaking volumes. Finland feels her heart flutter at that as she goes on, "We're Nations, but we're people too. There were choices you made that I wished you didn't, and I'm sure it's the same for you. I don't know what the future will bring. But still, the one whose side I want to be by is you."
"Fin," Sweden breathes out, an indescribable look in her eyes. Lightly, like she's handling something precious, she cups Finland's face in her hands and tilts her chin up. Finland's hands move up to cover hers, their fingers twining together. Time seems to stop entirely as they gaze at each other before their lips meet in a tender caress. They stay like that for a long moment before their mouths part and they fall into an embrace. Finland wraps her arms around Sweden's waist and pulls her closer, feeling the taller woman's breath stirring her hair. She's so happy it feels like her heart is about to burst, but she chooses instead to give Sweden an expectant look.
"S'methin' wr'ng?" Sweden's face is concerned as she studies Finland's face, and the other Nation's grip on her tightens protectively.
"I got a late start on lunch, so the soup won't be ready for…oh, another hour or so," Finland says, her serious tone at odds with the smile she can barely keep hidden. Sweden lifts one golden brow in an arc, cocking her head thoughtfully.
"Th't long?" Sweden confirms. A beat passes before Finland finds herself slung over Sweden's shoulder in a fireman's hold with no apparent effort-Sweden's always had strength proportionate to her body. "It'll do f'r a st'rt."
"For a start," Finland agrees, quivering as Sweden's free hand slips up her sundress and starts tracing little circles on the soft skin of her inner thigh. "But there's a lot of lost time to make up for, Sve. We'll have to keep working at it."
"'m prepared t'live w'th th't," Sweden says as she takes the stairs to Finland's bedroom with impressive speed. "We've g't all t'time we need now."
Sweden wakes up, and for a moment thinks she is still dreaming. But is really is Finland who is still sleeping soundly beside her, curled up closely enough Sweden can feel every gentle breath she takes. She just stares at the smaller woman for a second, still not believing she could have ever been so blessed. As she leans down to plant a tiny kiss on Finland's temple Sweden thinks she's probably used all the good fortune allotted to her in life on this, and doesn't regret it for a second.
Finland stirs a bit and then keeps on sleeping, but she had been so…enthusiastic last night that isn't surprising. Sweden unsuccessfully fights down a blush at the thought, feeling around on the nightstand for her glasses. She slips them on just as she hears a loud pounding noise on Finland's front door.
Wondering what on earth someone could want with Finland at-she glances at the old-fashioned alarm clock on the stand-9:12 in the morning, Sweden gets out of bed and starts picking up her scattered clothing. Her slacks and undergarments go on alright, but the blouse now missing several buttons courtesy of Finland is pretty far from decent. Riffling through Finland's closet, she slips on a sweater that's more than a little formfitting considering their size difference, but it's better than nothing.
The pounding grows obnoxiously loud as she heads down the stairs, feeling more than a little irritated. If whoever is at the door wakes her wife up, there'll be hell to pay no matter how good their reason for doing so is. Striding towards the foyer, she wrenches open the door only to immediately shut it again.
Or try to, at least. Denmark's thick military-issue boot wedged in the narrow space between door and frame is responsible for that one. Well, Sweden can at least credit her for keeping up that wide grin in the face of the considerable pressure continually being exerted on her foot. Giving her stoniest look to the other Nation, she sees Denmark holding a bag emitting a sweet scent in one of her hands. She knows that smell from somewhere…a pastry?
"And a god morgen to you too," Denmark says with a cheery salute. Her smile is large enough for two people, but Sweden can read the more malevolent intent behind it easily. It falters a little as the Swede adds more force to the hand trying to shut the door, but Denmark bolsters on. Unfortunately. "I thought you'd be in a better mood after last night!"
It dawns on Sweden that Denmark is not going to go away even if she's about three seconds away from a broken foot when that sentence is followed by a blatantly unnecessary waggling of her eyebrows and a wink. She breaks the frigid glare she's still sending Denmark's way to glance at her coat, hung up just out of reach, and mentally debate whether she could grab the quarterstaff hooked on the back and knock her sister out before she got inside the house. It is a very tempting prospect, to say the least.
"Besides," Denmark continues loudly, oblivious to her potential future concussion. The tufts of blonde hair that have stuck up despite her best efforts sway as she practically bounces in place, held only to the spot by her trapped foot. She waves the bag in Sweden's face for emphasis instead. "I brought you two a present!"
"Don' w'nt it," Sweden says immediately. She abandons the quarterstaff plan-too risky-and starts forming a new one involving kneeing Denmark in the stomach and seeing where things go from there.
"Aww, Sverige!" Denmark laughs, righting the cap on her head. "You can't fool me-I know you love kransekake. Everyone does!"
"Kr'nsek'ke?" Sweden repeats, trying to figure out what called for some of the special Danish ringed-cake. Realization strikes one second too late, and she only has time to be filled with a sinking sensation of horror as her sister opens the box containing the pastry with a flourish.
"In honor of "re-establishing diplomatic relations" with Finland-" Denmark begins grandly, the same phrase written in white icing (complete with suggestive quote marks and little caricatures of Sweden and Finland encircled by a heart) on the rings that made up the cake. The only thing that saves her from broken ribs as a result of Sweden's knee aiming for her torso is the same thing that cut her off. Grabbing the back of Denmark's collar, Norway yanks hard, eliciting a choking noise from Denmark as her windpipe is blocked. Sweden stumbles before regaining her balance, only the sound of the kransekake being knocked around in its box as it hits the ground making her feel better.
"Annoying," Norway sighs with her usual emotionless expression. She lets go of a coughing Denmark as Sweden picks up the pastry box. Taking a quick peek inside, she is relieved beyond words its tumble reduced the icing message to an illegible smudge, even if her face does not show it. "You stayed up all last night making this just to harass Sweden for a few minutes?"
"Norge!" Denmark leaps up and throws her arms enthusiastically around the sailor-uniformed Nation, either ignoring or just missing entirely the irritated vibes she was sending out. Eventually Norway manages to pry herself away, adjusting the cross clip pinning back part of her long hair as Denmark coos, "If you wanted attention, all you had to do was ask-oof!"
Norway retracts her elbow, calmly watching Denmark wheeze. "Don't assume things. It'll just take that much longer for us to get our coalition going if Sweden sends you to the hospital."
Denmark gives an indignant huff, tossing her hair over her shoulder as her hands settle on her hips. "Give me a little credit, Nor. I brought my…axe…" Her voice trails off as she eyes a completely empty spot just by the door. "AHHHHH! Where did it go?" She looks around wildly as Norway simply sighs again and Sweden contemplates just ignoring the lunatic on Finland's lawn and going back to bed.
She spots Iceland sitting on the hood of the car the other Nordic Nations must have come in the same time Denmark does. In Sweden's case, she doesn't let out a near ear-splitting shriek upon seeing the battle-axe balanced casually against the white-tressed girl's shoulder. Iceland looks up for a second from the licorice she's eating, gives Sweden a polite nod that is returned in kind, and then goes back to her snack.
"Dammit, Ice!" Denmark yells. Where she's getting all this energy from so early in the morning Sweden doesn't know, but it's wearing on her last nerve. "I've had that since the 13th century! Give it back, now!"
"It can't be that important to you if you were so busy bickering with Sweden you didn't notice me take it," Iceland counters calmly. Her puffin tugs at a lock of short hair in a bid for attention; she passes it a piece of candy in response. "Just don't start that Ruler of Northern Europe argument again. It's very tiresome."
A muscle in Denmark's face twitches, and with her fists clenched like that she looks like she's about to lose her temper in a mighty way-
"Ah, Sve, there you are," Finland's sleepy voice rings out as she walks slowly down the stairs, hair loose and a little wavy around her shoulders. Clad in a white bathrobe and the sunrise haloing her from behind as she is makes her look like an angel. Sweden knows she's staring, and that it looks stupid and probably more than a little creepy. But still, she can't tear her eyes away. Fortunately, hundreds of years of this have given Finland some degree of immunity to being gazed at so intensely, and she just gives Sweden one of those dazzling smiles before kissing her on the cheek.
Sweden melts inside at that, her bad mood evaporating away like mist. Finland blushes when she realizes they've got company (Denmark especially has a smirk on her face that is pure evil), but rallies herself admirably and gives a small wave.
"So this is what all the noise was," Finland notes, hiding a yawn behind her hand. "Good morning, everyone."
"Heya, Finland!" Denmark crows merrily. She bounds up to Finland, patting her shoulder enthusiastically. "Didn't mean to wake you up, sorry."
"It's fine," Finland assures her, oblivious to the way Denmark is grinning at the tiny bite marks trailing down her neck. "Thank you for calling me yesterday."
"Oh, it was no problem at all," Denmark says, the smug little grin she shoots Sweden reviving her irritation. "Speaking of which, I brought krasenkake."
"Ah, really?" Finland looks in the box before Sweden can hide it, her forehead wrinkling cutely. "What's the occasion?"
The question is posed innocently enough, but Finland isn't an idiot. There's a look in her eyes that Russia in particular would recognize from the Winter War, and a few moments pass before Denmark collects herself enough to form a neutral reply.
"Just 'cause, ahaha," The normally cheerful nation says, trying subtly to back away in the face of that all too sweet and gentle expression on Finland's face. "Well, I really should be off-"
"Oh no, Denmark," Finland cuts her off, hooking her arm through the other woman's. "I owe you a debt of gratitude after all. We should do something for her, right Sve?"
The tiny smile hiding a very wicked intent Finland sends Sweden's way just serves as another reminder of why she loves the other Nation so much. As a team, they're all but unstoppable. "Mm…lunch, p'haps? If y'don' mind cookin'."
"That sounds perfect!" Finland agrees cheerfully, ignoring the color draining out of Denmark's face. "I really feel like kalakukko, don't you?"
"Y'h," Sweden says, hoping her tolerance to Finland's more…acquired taste dishes still holds. But even if it doesn't, it's still worth it just for the panicked expression Denmark bears.
"Isn't it good you told me you were free today, Denmark?" Norway is cool as always, but for they who have known her so long, a hint of amusement can be detected. "Iceland and I have a meeting to go to, but we'll be able to pick you up afterwards."
"Some other time," Finland replies genially, steering a twitching Denmark towards the house.
"Norgeeeeeeee-" Denmark groans before Sweden forces her inside. Bidding the two remaining Nordics farewell, Finland waves goodbye and shuts the door behind them. Norway stares at the shut entrance for a second longer before turning around and heading back to the car. Iceland is already sitting in the passenger seat, drumming out a beat to some unfinished song on her armrest.
"We're leaving Denmark?" Iceland asks as Norway slides into the driver's seat and starts up the car. Despite the question, she doesn't look overly worried.
"Finland's making Den eat her lunch," Norway answers by way of explanation. There's a good stretch of silence as she drives away from Finland's house to head back to their hotel.
"You know that argument of Sweden and Denmark's?" Iceland speaks up rather abruptly, turning from gazing out the window to look at Norway.
"The sovereign one?" Norway says, wondering what brought that on. "Considering they've only been fighting about it for almost a thousand years, yes. Why?"
"Wouldn't you say Finland is the real Queen of Northern Europe?" Iceland elaborates in complete seriousness.
A pause.
"Call me 'big sister' like you used to and I'll say yes."
"…No. No way."
"Come on, 'big sister', 'big sister'."
"I said no!"
Fin
Author's Notes:
-First of all, I would like to establish that I have zero confidence with this thing and believe only net-anonymity is saving me from a Simo Häyhä -esque sniping death. *cringes*
-For you sad souls who don't know who that is, the only biography that does how totally hardcore and awesome he was justice can be found here.
-The title is of course from the lyrics of John Lennon's song "Imagine", which I think is fitting with its tones of hope for better times.
-I couldn't quite deal with the anachronism that is Su-san, much as I love it, so I used Sve from Sverige, the Swedish word for…duh, Sweden, as a substitute.
-On the other hand, I kept Hanatamago as is. Hanatamago's awful, awful name is sacrosanct! Am I a hypocrite? Yes.
-I stretched out the original request a bit to include the Finnish Civil War as well-I couldn't really write these two reuniting right after Finland's independence knowing that only two weeks later Finland would be embroiled in a very bloody civil war.
-On that note, Ekenäs was the location of the Finnish concentration camp where the most Red Finn socialists dissidents died-the casualties on their side were pretty horrible. It was of course the White Finn non-socialists backed by the German Empire who won the Civil War, but it created a very deep rift in Finnish society that wouldn't start to mend until everyone banded together in the Winter War against the Soviets.
-Speaking of the German Empire, they were the reason Finland got blockaded during a little thing called WWI and the most of the country nearly starved before it was lifted, hence Finland not eating enough. By the time the story is set in winter of 1918, aid and supplies were coming through so she's starting to recover.
- Dalälven-The Dal river of Sweden. I pretty much just chose it randomly for Sweden's neck.
-Finland is hella GAR (again, read Simo Häyhä's biography and the stats of the Winter War. Finland will fuck you the hell up if you piss him off). I've never understood the tendency to make him all weepy in fandom. He's toughed out way worse things than Sweden's scary face, for Christ's sake.
-Speaking of which, Finland totally wears the pants in that relationship. And really loves the sauce. And also uses breast bindings because I wasn't sure the brasserie would have made it to Finland by 1918. Neither of them are wearing corsets because it's just not practical given the circumstances.
-The lily of the valley is the national flower of Sweden and Finland according to Himaruya's character bios…but on the other hand wiki says Sweden only has provincial flowers and not a national one? Idk, but this way was more romantic so it stays.
-It's traditional to eat pea soup on Thursday in Finland and Sweden, a holdover from the pre-Reformation when everyone fasted on Friday. And pea soup is yummy, hence why Hanatamago didn't run for the hills at the prospect of Finland's cooking.
-1809 is of course the year Finland was annexed from Sweden into Russia. It is a law of the Hetalia fandom that 90% of SuFin fics must mention this is some way, and include appropriate angsting.
-The epilogue itself is set in spring 1946. Finland was pretty much done in WWII by 1944, but I figure straightening everything out afterwards (not to mention chasing the Germans out) would have taken some time. Sweden, Denmark, and Norway will have also started conceiving of the Nordic Council by then, officially forming it in 1953 with Finland joining in 1956.
-kransekake is a special ring cake that's hard on the outside and soft inside, made in Denmark on special occasions like birthdays, christenings, and so on.
I think that's it as far as notes, but just let me know if there's something I missed/got wrong/other and I'll answer as best I can.