A/N: Slightly altered 3.9.12

12th Century

Tino smiled happily as he raced through the thick grove of trees. Their needles struck his body and scratched his skin as he rushed passed them. The air was frigid; the sun was low in the sky; and a world that to anyone else would have felt like a cage felt like a blessing to Tino. He could feel his feet almost burning from the touch of the snow, but it only encouraged him to run faster and keep running until his throat burned just as much from the cold air.

It was an exciting feeling—so he ran.

Today was a good day: they'd beaten back another one of Novgorod's* armies, and were due for some sort of peace any day now. For once, his tribes had banded together with no backstabbing or fighting amongst themselves. More than ever, Tino was proud to call them his own.

Finally, the trees gave way, and Tino found himself only a little ways away from a frozen lake, nearly invisible due to the snow. He stopped at the edge of the forest, not wanting to leave its safety. Bending his body slightly, he rested his palms above his knees as he panted, enjoying the sight of his breath coming out in white little puffs. He exhaled a long breath and watched with interest as it seemed to come out in a white cloud of sorts. Briefly, he wondered why it did so, but his mind quickly turned back to his earlier ecstasy: he'd won against a much bigger enemy, and that gave him copious amounts of satisfaction. He smirked, recalling the brilliant ideas of his men and the screams of the fleeing Novgorodians. Served them right for thinking that they could have settled in his land.

He let his hands fall to his sides, as he raised his head to the skies and took a deep breath. The sky was such a beautiful blue today. He loved the sky: it made him feel so small, so insignificant. It almost allowed him to forget and consoled him when the past seemed inescapable. And what a past it was. A past filled with loneliness and battles. Fighting. It was the only thing he had known his whole life.

He loved it. But he hated it, too. It made him feel so alive to be there in the moment, knowing that the darkness could settle at any moment. It filled him with adrenaline, made him feel strong as his peoples' goals became the same: to defeat the enemy. It filled him with sort of sick giddiness, hearing cries of pain and victory, and confused him so terribly. It was an problem that he could never solve, but the fact that he could not solve it was what made it so amazing.

But it brought him so much pain, too. He couldn't sleep for weeks, having to dream about the lives of the widows and orphans, feeling their pain and sadness. Sometimes, he thought, sometimes it was good to just be like this, running through the forest, feeling the cold, the trees, the air, enjoying the light.

He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly, trying to take everything in, marvelling at the clarity of his sight and burn of his skin and feeling of the wind. A thought jumped into his mind, called upon by his stomach. He would need to hunt soon. Though wounds did not hurt him as much as they hurt his men, he was would feel the effects of hunger just as much as they did. He closed his eyes and felt his land around him, hoping to find a meal close by. Starting a fire was no problem, even killing an animal was little trouble, but nothing irritated him more than having to hide in a tree and wait for a meal to walk by.

The crunching of snow interrupted his search. Quickly, he leapt up a tree, scampering to one of the more leaf-heavy branches, thankful that he was still small enough to do so. The crunching was coming from faraway and within the forest, but Tino knew better than to let that mollify him. His land was still wild; he had no one to count on for miles. The person approaching could be a Swede or a trader or a madman for all he knew. The crunching continued and Tino's heart nearly stopped when he saw who it was.

The teen that stood only a few feet from the tree had paused and seemed to be almost scowling in frustration. So angular and sharp were his features, that Tino conjectured that he must be some seventeen winters old... that is... if he wasn't who Tino believed him to be. But it had to be him. The same blue eyes and angry expression. Same messy, blond hair. The teen even wore a similar cape, dark blue, long, reaching to his knees. But now, instead of a staff, he carried a sword. Tino cursed as softly as possible. With this one, he could never be sure. His earlier ecstasy gone, Tino watched the teen closely and shifted slightly to allow him better access to his knife. If the teen was who Tino thought he was, he could be a very, very big threat. Suddenly, the teen whipped his sword out and sliced through the branch that had been covering Tino. Stunned, Tino cowered back slightly, then jumped to the ground, crouched slightly, and pulled out his knife, prepared for the worst. The teen's lip twitched, as though he found Tino amusing, but he did not lower his sword. They remained that way until Tino spat, "What do you want, Ruotsi?"

"Lookin' for ya." Berwald lowered his sword just a little bit. His eyes dropped to Finlandi's knife, then rose to meet Finlandi's. Berwald wished he were better at expressing himself. "Won't hurt you," he tried. No, he could never hurt Finlandi. The boy had gotten a little bigger since the last time Berwald had gotten a glimpse of him, but his size was certainly nothing to brag about. He looked only about twelve! But he sure could glare, Berwald smiled inwardly, as Tino regarded him coldly and responded slowly, "Same here. So long as you drop that." Tino motioned with head towards the ground.

Sweden shrugged and dropped the sword into the snow. He wasn't going to use it anyway. He had only come here to warn the stubborn boy. Regardless, the Finn didn't look like he could put up too much of a fight.

Tino's eyes widened, but he quickly composed himself. "Fine," he said, returning his knife to his pocket, but keep his hand on the hilt. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Come home with me."

"I'm sorry?" exclaimed Tino, his eyebrow's jumping to meet the hair that framed his face. Perhaps Sweden was a madman. "You want me to come home with you? To your house?!" Tino nearly yelped. "I...I don't even know you. I have met you once in my life and that once included you almost attacking me, then fighting off Novgorod because I seemed like a damsel in distress to you just because I was younger."

"Ya look more like a girl, too," Berwald interrupted seriously. Although, Berwald added to himself, it's mostly because he's younger...

Tino's face reddened, as he scrambled to come up with snarky remark. "I... No, I... Not all of us have people who settle down. Some of us like freedom,"* he snapped. Sweden shrugged, and looked pointedly at his sword then at Finlandi's waist, where the boy's knife was hidden. Tino blushed again. "Whatever. I would rather be free and happy with my sorry iron knife, then forced to spend my time stuck listening to a king, feeling high and mighty because I have a sword-"

"And getting attacked," Sweden interrupted. This time his words were laced with worry.

Before Sweden could move, Tino whipped out his knife and had Sweden on the ground with Tino's knife at his neck. "You're on my turf right now, Sweden," Tino hissed. "This may be close to your land, and you probably have somewhere to run to, but right now, if I want to, I can hurt you and leave you here to freeze to death. Or I could spare you the trouble and push this knife a little deeper into your throat. Trust me. It won't weigh on my conscience. So, I suggest you stop with the witty interruptions and remarks and tell me what the fuck you want."

Sweden looked at him confusedly, as though he was surprised that Finlandi not only could knock him down, but also that he had. "My king wants you," said Sweden, trying to explain. Berwald was still in shock; he hadn't realised how strong sweet, cute Finlandi could be. This might be a lot more difficult than he had assumed it would be.

Tino loosened his grip in surprise, and Sweden easily pushed him off, though he did not try to overpower the smaller Finn. Tino seemed to accept the defeat and allowed Berwald to stand up. "Why?" Tino demanded. Sweden shrugged, looking at the ground. "Damn' it, Ruotsi. Did you come here just to shrug and threaten me? You know that I will fight you to the death. This is my land, and you aren't going to take it from me. I don't care how much Novgorod beats me up or how painful it is. Despite my appearance, I can take care of myself... And my people will not allow it." Tino broke off as he saw Sweden's eyebrow rise by a millimetre. For once, he wasn't quite sure if he should be so observant. "What?"

Berwald just looked at him, trying to get a point across. Didn't Finlandi realise how much power Berwald already had in Finlandi's land?

Tino frowned in response. He both loved and hated how Sweden said so little. It allowed him to talk more, but it also required a lot of guessing. Then Sweden's gaze shifted towards the tree where Tino had been hiding—and then Tino's eyes widened as it clicked. "You can feel here," Tino whispered. Sweden nodded perfunctorily. For a moment, Tino was silent, then he said, his voice increasing in volume, "Damn' you... damn' you, Sweden."

Berwald gave him a slightly hurt look; didn't Finlandi realise how much he cared for him? His words, his powers, his actions... they were not threats. They were the only way that Berwald had of showing Tino how much he cared. Although, in truth, Berwald himself did not know why he cared so much. He had only caught glimpses of the boy through his people's trades with Finlandi's people. But Finlandi just felt like someone who needed to be protected... and loved. "Warned ya. Like or not, I'll be back soon," Berwald responded evenly.

He stepped towards Tino, and the Finn suddenly realised that Sweden was actually quite bigger and taller than Tino had initially thought. Even taller than Novgorod—and stronger looking as well. But Sweden's hesitance addled him. Sweden could easily taken him by force... so why hadn't he? If Sweden could feel his way in Tino's land, then Tino feared to know what other powers the teen might have over him. Although, as much as Tino hated to admit it, Sweden's influence made sense. His people had been fighting alongside and trading with Tino's own for centuries; for the most part they were peaceful and accepting of each other. Regardless...if Sweden did become Tino's ally, then there would be someone else to back him up if Novgorod decided to attack again; and though Tino hated to admit it, he could really use an ally—and his people could use the help.

Berwald continued to stare at Finlandi, conflicted himself. The way Finlandi was looking at him... it was as though he was beginning to believe that Berwald could care for him. Please, please, Berwald pleaded inwardly. He opened his mouth slightly, hoping to tip the scale, when Finlandi's jaw clenched and the Finn snapped,

"Well?"

Tino cringed on the inside, instantly regretting the tone. Sweden was being nice; Tino should be nice back.

Berwald bit his lip a bit, then spoke, stuttering to find the right words, "Vänligen, Finlandi... when we do... don't make me hurt you."

Tino's brow furrowed. The words themselves could have been a threat, but Sweden had said them so softly, so tenderly, that Tino could have mistaken them for care. He didn't want to hurt Tino. He wanted to protect him. The Swede...cared for him. And Tino... Tino wasn't sure anymore. But the word escaped his lips. "Tino."

Berwald stared at him, confused. Was that some word in Finlandi's language? "My name is Tino," the boy said hurriedly, then turned and sprinted away. And Sweden did not follow him.

Sweden continued to look in the direction where Finlandi—no, Tino—had fled. He smiled slightly. Next time, Berwald decided, next time he would tell him his name, too. Because when you told another land your name, it meant something, and it meant something good. He retrieved his sword from the snow, wiped it, and returned it to its sheath, then began walking west.

Historical Notes:

First, I'd just like to say that I know nothing of this period other than what I have read on Wikipedia... so if there are mistakes, please tell me! I'd like to keep this as historically accurate as possible—although, since this is the 12th century, the details are bound to be sketchy.

Novgorod is what one day would become Russia. Finnic tribes and the Novgorodians fought for quite a few centuries.

Finland isn't quite Finland yet. It's more like a bunch of tribes all living in the same area. From what I gathered, some would fight with Novgorod, others against. I wasn't able to find when the term "Suomi" (Finland in Finnish) came to exist, but, apparently, by the 11th century the area that we know as Finland began being referred to as "Finlandi," at some point, somehow, that "i" will be dropped.

Sweden is sort of in the process of becoming Sweden. It used to be composed of a bunch of different provinces, but they are in the process of coming together and getting one king—that's why Tino says that he does not want to answer to a king.

The Swedes and the Finns were no strangers to each other. Swedish Vikings often travelled east and after the Viking Age, the Swedes still traded with the Finns, which is why Tino is wary of Berwald.

Author's Notes:

Vänligen - "please" in Swedish

This was significantly shorter when it didn't include Berwald's perspective... which I felt would be fair to give him, since he is a fairly quiet character. But is it too confusing? I tried to make it more clear whose thoughts they were by separating it through paragraphs—also, you may have noticed that when the thoughts are Berwald's, I called him Berwald and Tino "Finlandi", but when the thoughts are Tino's, I called Berwald "Sweden". Did that help?

I normally don't/can't manage to write continuous stories... I won't keep up with it. But I'm trying. More than likely, this fic will jump around in the time, but all of it will lead up to the March 11, 1940, a one-shot I wrote a while back. Tino is going to be tougher than what I have often read him being presented as. Especially in the past. In my mind, I see him as starting off his life as a really tough, I-don't-believe-in-anyone character, but as he gets more and more pampered by Berwald, he lets that part of him go. And then as Berwald begins to forget about him and become more obsessed with being an empire that part of Tino resurfaces. At least, that's the feeling I get from Finnish history...

BTW, at this point in time, Tino looks like he's around twelve, and Berwald looks like he's fifteen. No, Berwald is not in love with him. Not yet, at least. Right now, he feels more like he should be Tino's older brother/caretaker. As he states, he's not sure why, but I think he simply likes the idea of protecting those who are weaker.