* * * * * * *
Berwald stared at the King blankly. The King refused to stare at him back; instead, he kept looking at the map laid before them.
"We are not to grant deployment of our regular troops to Finland."
Berwald opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There were plenty of things that he wanted to say, to ask, to demand, to beg for, but at the end, it was only one word that managed came out.
"Why?"
"Simply said, our help will only prolong the war, and if Finland completely falls into Soviet's hands, then we will be next on Soviet's hit list. It is better for us to pressure the Finns to agree to the Soviet's conditions."
So that the Soviets couldn't invade further, far enough to reach Sweden. Great. His King was using Finland to shield Sweden from Soviet.
"Finland 's our neighb'r," and Tino needed their help. He knew how brave and fierce the Finn could be when faced with dire situations, but it didn't comfort him. Instead, his mind readily supplied him with images of Soviet raiding Finland's vital regions, and if that didn't anger him, nothing else could.
"Do you honestly think," the King said, admonishing him, "That we can keep our neutrality once we start to formally help them? If Norway or Denmark suddenly gets attacked and they ask for our help, we won't be able to turn them down too then, just because they happen to be our neighbors."
Berwald opened his lips again, but the King didn't even let him start.
"We promised to be neutral. And we shall stay neutral." And it was an order, the King's tone said.
...Brat.
But the brat was still his King, and he would, had to listen to him, despite his own feelings. In this regard, he could do nothing. But he also knew that unlike other nations who still had to listen to their higher-ups, it was pretty much the opposite in Soviet. In Russia, the higher-ups had to listen to Ivan Braginsky.
...Could he ask Ivan to stop his attacks toward Tino? Or had it been Ivan himself who instigated the attacks? Berwald didn't know. He didn't think he wanted to know. And to think that all this time he was more worried about what Ludwig's megalomaniac boss was concocting....
"Oxenstierna," he heard the King calling him. He just glanced at the King, not really caring he would be perceived as being rude. He surely had some good justifications for being rude right now. But the King didn't even bat an eye. Instead, he just gave him a pitying look. "I understand that you are concerned about Finland. But please understand. This is a matter of our survival."
"Finland w's ours," Berwald tried to argue.
"But not anymore," the King countered. "Think of our own people. If we get dragged into this, what will happen to them? Do you think we can sacrifice our good men for something other than the nation? Something other than You?"
Berwald gritted his teeth.
The King stared again at the map before him. "There is a price for everything, even for peace."
Didn't he know it. Berwald had lived long enough to understand that painfully well.
But that didn't mean that he could accept it easily.
* * *
For an instant, Tino thought that the regularity of the explosions had damaged his ears and he was starting to hear things.
"What?"
The messenger repeated his message. "Sweden refused to deploy their regular troops."
Tino opened his mouth, but nothing came out. There were plenty of things that he wanted to say, to ask, to demand, to beg for, but at the end, there were only two words that managed came out.
"I... see...."
No, he couldn't see.
Though it was funny, come to think of it. While he had been afraid of Berwald despite having lived together for centuries after they fled Denmark's place, he had never even once imagined that the Swede would leave him. At least not like this. Not when he needed him the most.
Why was Berwald abandoning him?
The messenger looked at him warily. "What do we do now, Sir?"
He didn't know. He could only look around at his men.
The news of Sweden's rejection had spread around the base. Here and there Tino could here whispered words, or even rather loud ones, condemning Sweden and its cowardice, its betrayal. There was an obvious morale decline in the air, and Tino had to do something about it.
"People," he called out.
All heads turned to him.
His men. Some of them were not even in uniforms, coming from their homes in whatever they could wear, bringing whatever weapon they could find. Some of them were still standing despite sustaining injuries. Some were scattered beyond their base in the vast field of white and black, most beyond recognition, their souls already on their way to Tuonela.
He smiled at them. "With or without anyone's help us, we will win this fight. We are still alive and the winter is still long."
He gathered whatever height he had and lifted his riffle high above his head.
"Remember your sisu."
There was silence from his men. Then one by one, they lifted their riffles, their knives, their gloved fists. And they looked at him with their grim eyes, but Tino can see the rekindled fire inside.
Tino nodded at the men, then turned back to where he had been sitting before the messenger had come. He had a war to win, and for that, he would need to conserve whatever energy he had for the upcoming battle. Despite the cold snow under him and the occasional sound of explosions from faraway, with his riffle firmly in his embrace, he pulled his legs closer and willed himself to sleep.
It was a pity really, that the tears in his eyes rather prevented him to get a good one.
* * *
Tino felt like he had only closed his eyes for a few seconds when he was suddenly roughly awaken by a hand shaking his shoulder.
"Sir!" the lieutenant whispered. "Incoming!"
He was immediately on his feet.
The Finns were already on their posts by the time Tino reached his own. There was heavy silence in the air, one that Tino still had not gotten used to despite having been in several wars ever since his birth, and one that he hoped he would never. There wasn't even any bird chirping. The only sound they could here was footsteps of several tens... no, it sounded more like a hundred men. His hands involuntarily gripped his riffle hard. He only had about twenty men with him. They would have to snipe them down one by one.
"Lieutenant," he whispered to his aid. "Give me visual."
The lieutenant nodded and whipped out his periscope. Taking care not to have the lens reflecting the sun and giving out their location, the young man peered into the periscope. And gaped.
Uh, oh. That couldn't be good.
Tino waited for the lieutenant to tell him what he saw, but the man didn't say anything. After he came out of his shock, he just continued to stare into periscope, as if still not believing what he was seeing. After a few minutes, Tino was very tempted to just shout at the boy right now, demanding to know what he was seeing, or even seriously considering to take the damn periscope from him and see for himself. But before he could actually do that, the lieutenant opened his mouth and grinned widely.
"Speak of the Devil!" the young man breathed. "It's the Swedes!"
...What?
Tino, momentarily forgetting they were in the middle of a battlefield, stood to see for himself.
And promptly jumped over the camouflaged barricades.
He ran and ran, toward the incoming army. The leader of the army, none other than one Berwald Oxenstierna, was the first to notice him, and the tall man started to run toward him as well.
When they finally met each other in the middle of the white vastness, they stood before each other, face to face. There was so many questions running in Tino's mind, all demanding to be asked at the same time that he didn't really know where to begin.
But then again, Berwald was Berwald, just like how he had been for the last few centuries.
"C'nt leave m' wife al'ne," the Swede simply said.
Tino didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That joke is getting waaay too old, you know."
"Wha' joke?"
Tino actually laughed. Wiping the tears from eyes with his sleeves, he wondered out loud, "But I thought-- you refused the request! Your King---"
"C'n lick his'n ass."
Having with the silent man for centuries, never, not even once, had Tino heard Berwald say anything foul, especially not about his own Kings. He gaped at the man.
"'Tis all I c'd bring," the Swede said, pointing at the people behind him. His expression would be neutral to most spectators, but Tino could read him enough to know that the man was somehow embarrassed.
And Tino could see why. Berwald didn't exactly bring an army with him. None of the men behind him wear any uniform nor insignia. Everything that identified them as Swedes were absent. This was not an official delegation from the Kingdom of Sweden, even though the nation could have done something better, could have given so much more.
But at the same time, even though Berwald couldn't use his army to aid the Finns, he turned to his own people. Every Swede there, young men, old men, the ones with their riffles and those who only brought a rucksack full of medicines. They couldn't have been any different with Tino's men, ordinary people, but with the same fire in their eyes. They were all here by their own will, because they wanted to help. No matter what the King said, there were people who wanted to help.
"North'rn Corps s'd they c'd spare sum materials," Berwald added silently. "We'll th'nk of a way t' cov'r't."
Tino grinned. And he couldn't stop grinning even with the tears flowing down his cheeks. Berwald seemed to be confused at his reaction, as he reached out to wipe Tino's tears with his gloved hands. "Ye 'lright?"
"Never felt better," Tino said, for once not even remotely afraid of Berwald. Hell, he could kiss the Swede right there and then, but that would be inappropriate. "Come on. Let's get your men meet mine."
And Tino reached for the gloved hands and pulled. He continued to grip that big hand even as they approached the Finns base. Tino could see his own men, some still in disbelief, some outright grinning, and he knew that they all were feeling what he was feeling right now.
Finland might be alone in this war, but the Finns weren't.
"Thank you."
"Nn."
Tino exhaled slowly, taking in the beautiful scene as their men blended, forming a new army with a renewed strength. It looked like they might still have a shot at winning this damned war.
The gloved hand in his own squeezed lightly.
Tino smiled despite himself.
Yeah, they would win. He'd make sure of that.
* * * * * * *
AN:
- Despite Gustav V publicly rejecting Finland's request for help to fight the assault from Soviet Union, more than 8,000 Swedes did go and assist the Finns in the war. It was also said that Swedish Northern Corps somehow misplaced a lot of material and ammos during this time. (......In case you're wondering, I'm neither a Swede nor Finn, so no axe to grind here. I am just a mere fangirl. :P)
- I hope I didn't make Finland too weepy or something, though.
- I won't declare myself an expert in history, so please let me know if I got anything wrong. My only source for this fic was Wikipedia and you know how it can be wrong sometimes.