"This Shall Pass, Be Still and Know."
Author's Note and a Brief History Lesson:
This is a piece I've been toying with for a while. The title is from a song by the heavy metal band Machine Head. "Be Still and Know" is a song from their album Unto the Locust. You don't have to listen to it to understand this piece, nor do you have to know the history of the Kalmar Union, but their song inspired me to write this so I wanted to give them credit, and the history I've added below is just to help enrich your experience.
(The history provided below is relevant but optional):
The dissolution of the Kalmar Union came after the Stockholm Bloodbath in November of 1520, when over eighty Swedes were executed, and many more taken hostage, despite a promise from King Christian II of Denmark for general amnesty. The king was already unpopular in Sweden due to high taxes on the peasantry and for the frequent Danish wars with various other European states (which are now parts of Germany and Poland).
The Swedes elected a new king on the 6th of June in 1523, Gustav Vasa, who was the son of Erik Johansson, one of the victims of the executions. He had led rebel Swedish forces and took control of various parts of Sweden, gaining support from the local people, and was elected as the King of Sweden when they successfully took Stockholm.
A year later in September, when the majority of Finland (then a part of Sweden) was also controlled by Swedish rebels in support of Gustav Vasa, they together signed the Treaty of Malmö, which marked the official secession of Sweden from the Kalmar Union.
When King Christian II heard about the rebellion in Sweden, he sent his forces to put it down. The Danish forces were defeated when they met the Swedish rebels, and the Kalmar Union dissolved, though Norway, Iceland, and the various other islands remained connected to Denmark.
Enjoy!
Kalmar Union, 1523.
And so it was.
Berwald could feel his blood vibrating in his veins. This was not going to be another quiet rebellion. Not another suppressible revolt...not after what the Dane had done this time. Not after a bloodbath like that. Not after all the pain and broken promises he had suffered from Mathias.
No. Berwald was leaving this damned house, and he was leaving its master.
His people screamed for independence, and now he hailed a new king. The Swedish blood that had been spilt by Danish hands was crying out to him, yearning to be avenged. Demanding justice.
It was time.
He could feel it deep within his bones and as he looked at the trembling figure beside him, he knew that the Finnish nation felt it too.
They were tied together. Lashed to one another with powerful binds. If he left, he knew the small blond would follow him. Maybe he felt he didn't have a choice; Berwald wasn't entirely sure. Either way, it was decided.
They glanced at each other, a familiar tension poisoning the air.
Tino's face was so soft; he looked so pure and chaste. His young heart was not polluted and tainted with the hatred that had infected bond between Berwald and Mathias. He appeared to be, in Berwald's eyes, like a beautiful field blanketed in freshly fallen snow. Pristine, vestal, and faultless. In comparison, Berwald and Mathias were like battlefields. They were soaked in and stained with an age's worth of innocent blood, scarred and torched, and left a state of devastation that was wrought by violence and abhorrence.
Berwald would do everything in his power to take Tino away from Mathias. To protect him. This fight was a battle for more than his own independence. He wouldn't let the destructive forces of Mathias' selfish wars bring ruin to the small nation standing beside him. He swore it in blood.
Two men stood together in a small, cold room; bags packed, jackets donned, and pulses racing.
The silence was so complete that they were able to hear with perfect clarity when those dreaded footsteps began ascending the stairs that lead up to the hallway.
Boots falling heavily with speed and purpose and anger.
The smaller man next to him whimpered on a hard shutter, and Berwald drew in a deep breath.
He would take this fight into the hallway, away from Tino. Away from Lukas and Emil, who he knew would be locked away behind the door of the farthest bedroom. Lukas always protected Emil whenever Berwald challenged Mathias. And his time, he would protect Tino.
"He's coming," Tino's delicate voice rose to a fevered pitch, heavily seeped in fear.
Berwald looked down at him, but upon seeing the terror in his eyes, he felt only anger. Anger towards the one who would have this angelic incarnate tremble under the weight of his anxiety.
Yes, he breathed, the only sound aside from the approaching footsteps. Now was the time.
"Stay here." he told him curtly before he then turned and left, making sure to shut the door tightly behind him.
He could feel Tino's large eyes follow him, as Berwald left him there alone in his room. Their soft color would look so soothing in this light, but he didn't look back. He had to focus. He had to make certain that this would be the last time he would engage Mathias for the sake of his independence.
The Dane in question reached the top of the stairs just as Berwald stepped over the threshold of his room, and they faced each other in the wide hallway. He shut the door firmly. At the far end of the hall behind the Swede, Lukas' door was shut as well. Emil would be safe with him there.
The two nations' stood before each other.
He had always been taller, but Mathias was formidable. He was quick, well-fed, and better trained than the Swedish nation, and from his anger, Berwald had seen him muster power that was beyond anything imaginable.
Their eyes met hard, like clashing steel. One's were wide with bright fury and the others' were narrowed with dark determination. Their fates had been sealed that autumn, in a contract of noble blood; there was no backing down now. There was no other way.
"It's not true," Mathias' vehement voice was the first to break the silence between them.
Berwald just raised his head in silent defiance.
The bastard knew it was true. That was why he had come.
Besides, by now, behind closed eyes, he saw his people arming themselves to fight the Danes back, again and again, as many times as they had to. The people of Sweden would no longer stand for the injustices of the Union.
"You can't go. I won't allow it." He snarled, his eyes still impossibly wide under those dark eyebrows; ready for battle, though he pursued a false path of peace. "Go to bed, Ber. We'll work things out in the mornin'."
Then, he took step forward.
Mathias' fault had always been in taking that first step towards him.
"No." Berwald answered though he didn't speak Danish back, knowing that Mathias would understand him regardless of what language they spoke. "I'm leavin' tonight. An' Tino's comin' with me."
Another step forward, a larger one. A bolder one. It was proof that Mathias had heard him this time. Truly heard him. The Dane was afraid. The reality was sinking in at long last, and he saw Mathias' hand twitch dangerously at his side as though it was trying to scratch something.
A familiar, violent itch. One they both knew well.
"I won't let you go." He told him again, speaking louder as his stark eyes took on their more rapacious mien.
But he had never feared Mathias like the others had. "I know."
If Berwald left such a thing up to him, he knew Mathias never would let go of him. He wouldn't let go of any of them. That was why the Swede had to force his hand now. He would not be kept as a conquered state, a pet nation to the Danish king. No, the time for change had come.
"Fine, then. If that's how you want it."
Mathias' hands balled into fists at his sides, and before Berwald could respond, he lunged at him. He was far too eager to discipline his subordinate.
Berwald had been taken by surprise by the Dane's incredible speed and agility before, probably more times than he should have, but this time he was ready. The Swede waited until Mathias' hand shot forward, aiming to land right between his eyes. Berwald knew he would try to shorten the fight by breaking his glasses and therefore practically blind him, but he was able to move out of the way knowingly.
Mathias was predictable. He detested change. And that now tipped the scales in Berwald's favor.
That hard fist missed his face by a hair's breadth, and when it hit the wall behind him instead, Berwald seized his opportunity. He grabbed Mathias' arm and yanked him forward harshly, while simultaneously leaning back as his muscles coiled up, then Berwald kicked him as hard as he could. A massive amount of energy was released as his hard boot landed in the Dane's soft stomach, and he would have been flung back powerfully if Berwald hadn't had such a tight grip on his arm. There might have also been a sickly cracking noise coming from the bottom half of his ribcage, but as his foot fell back to the ground, Berwald used the pull to step into him as he raised his left fist, and then brought it down hard into his jaw without pause or hesitation.
Mathias then fell back a few feet after wrenching his arm free, left still coughing and gasping from the harsh kick, but he looked back up immediately as he held his jaw where he had been struck. Berwald simply wasn't as strong as he had once been. His hits just didn't stun the Dane the way they used to.
Or, perhaps the Dane thought he was just as predictable.
Ah.
No matter how much time passed, it never really did seem to change them.
Mathias made a snarling noise, and cussed at him, and they bared their teeth at each other like animals. They may have been the incarnations of kingdoms, but in these moment, Berwald felt they were truly more akin to beasts than men. He could smell the dark blood now evident on Mathias' lips.
Time seemed to stand still.
Their fists were clenched so hard in anger they were turning pale.
Lukas would be holding Emil close to his chest now, singing softly to him, his eyes fixed on a locked door down the hallway. Tino would still be trembling alone in Berwald's room.
Enough was enough.
By the time Mathias launched himself at him again, Berwald was already in motion. They clashed in a blurry mess of fists, blood, and gnashing teeth.
The Dane could hit so hard. For a moment, after taking a boney-knuckled fist to the side of his head, Berwald saw nothing but white light. Mathias was quick to spend his energy though, and Berwald could always outlast him if he could withstand the first few minutes of their fights.
They grunted and grappled, straining for any bit of leverage they could use to put the other down. As they struggled, however, Berwald also found himself trying to fend off the growing fears in his mind. He was trying to defend against terrifying thought that this would end just like all of their other fights before. He could still clearly recall the times he had been beaten; left broken, bruised, and bloodied upon on the floor for Mathias to deal with later the next day.
While he was struggling with his own mind, Mathias pinned his foot to the floor with his heavy boot. Then, he threw himself forward hit Berwald hard in the chest with his tough shoulder, knocking him backwards so he fell against the wall behind him. Before he could even regain his balance, Mathias was on him again. They exchanged a few quick punches in the small space between them, but then Danish hands gripped the fabric of his dark coat near the collar, and he jerked him close so that they were face to face. Berwald's back was shoved roughly against the wall, his hands grabbing tightly on to the arms of fists that were holding him. They glared at each other with such ferocious intensity that they could have set fire to anything that would have come between them at that moment.
To the tall Swede, the man before him was unrecognizable as the young, rambunctious child he had grown up with. But then, he saw something change in Mathias' fiery blue eyes.
Something just seemed to crack, and something else poured through.
Berwald's eyes widened a bit, and then Mathias moved.
He braced himself, half-waiting for an impossibly thick skull to smash into his nose, but then his senses registered something entirely different happening. Mathias had screwed his eyes shut and kissed him so forcefully that it knocked his head back until it hit the wall.
Berwald cursed silently. He feared something like this might happen. Still predictable, though, that didn't mean Berwald really was any better at preventing these things.
Their kiss was not gentle. It was filled with powerful emotions that surged forward like the sea, and was seasoned with that uniquely metallic taste dripping from the Dane's lips. Mathias was an incarnate made of hot-blooded passion, and it was his touch alone that had always been able to set the Swede's cold skin on fire. His lips were soft and far suppler than they appeared, but how no matter the manner in which they kissed, those lips always seemed to scorch Berwald's flesh wherever they touched him. It stoked a kind of ardent blaze within him that he had only ever been able to muster himself in anger; such a wild energy would burn up all of his rational thoughts, however, leaving him at the mercy of his of primordial desires.
Violence. Rage. Lust.
The Dane knew this well and he had used it as a way to keep him before, when he couldn't beat the Swede down, but now, the thought of Tino trembling in terror in the room just behind them gave Berwald something stronger. It was an emotion powerful enough to keep his mind from sinking into that sinfully fervent feeling that had caused his downfall countless times before.
He needed to protect Tino. He could no longer stay with Mathias.
When their lips parted, Berwald found himself staring down into twin pools of bright, hopeful light. Their anger was not lost, but had simply transformed into something, different. Though equal in its treacherous potency.
"Please, Ber. Just come to bed," he whispered now, his voice breathy and heavy with a need the Swede easily recognized within himself. "Just for a while,"
Berwald couldn't deny that a secret part of him still desperately desired to grant the Dane's request, but he knew now that whatever they once had was now over. It was time for him to leave. And if he waited until dawn, it would be too late.
No. He had to take Tino, and he had to leave tonight.
He shook his head, and pulled Mathias' hands off of him.
Besides, he knew that if Mathias had truly wanted him as his lover, he would have kept Berwald as his equal. He should have never made him his conquest.
"I'm leaving." He told him again, his voice sounding cold and jarring.
Though so often overwhelmed with the force of his emotions, Berwald's skill had never been in displaying them. At the moment, he found himself thankful for that.
Mathias' anger came back to his eyes, but, it wasn't nearly as fierce this time.
He swung his fist, and Berwald caught it easily. Then he caught the second fist.
Mathias' fire was out, doused with sorrow. The only thing that ever could put the Dane's fire out was his own sadness.
His head fell, that wild hair hiding his face. Berwald let go of his fists, and they dropped limply.
Then, the shorter man mumbled something he couldn't hear.
He grunted questioningly and immediately regretted it.
One of the hands he had just released shot back up and punched his mouth hard.
"I hate you!" Mathias roared at him, a furious and very nearly insane expression on his face.
Berwald tasted his own blood this time. The pain came a moment later. Everything fell quiet again.
Mathias was breathing hard. The pain of separation was felt on all sides, this was true.
Their nations demanded their hearts first. Things could never be as they once were between the Danish and Swedish nations, even if they wished it to be. Even if it hurt.
Selfishness.
Two men stood in a silent hallway. But they weren't men. A Swedish man had never really fallen for a Dane whose love overwhelmed and consumed like the sea and sacred flames all at once. And he had never truly watched that love turn bitter in the wake of duty. Because whatever they were-sovereign nation states or land-based properties, embodiments of people or incarnates of countries, slaves or kings-they weren't really men.
Mathias' hands lashed out and grabbed onto him again, but this time, Berwald shoved him back so hard he crashed to the floor several feet away. Those wild eyes looked up at him in wretched horror, showing that the Dane was far too stunned to get back on his feet.
The feeling of betrayal. He had made that same face once before, and Mathias had turned his back to him. Now, he did the same.
"...Ber?"
He turned and walked back towards the door to his room, opening it while pointedly ignoring the figure on the ground down the hall. Tino looked equal parts terrified and relieved to see him. He picked up his pack questioningly and Berwald nodded once.
It was time to go.
The short Finn brought both of their packs to the door, wrapped up in a long coat, and Berwald accepted his onto his shoulder. Tino timidly glanced down the hallway to look at Mathias, who had pushed himself up but then made no other movements. It was over. Mathias knew he couldn't keep them, and he didn't have the strength to try now that he was seeing the result of having completely lost support in Sweden.
Tino then quickly looked away and hurried over to the stairs. As Berwald began to follow him, Mathias spoke.
"If you leave me tonight," his words were slow and dripping with a poisonous concoction of anger, hatred, and hurt. "I will kill you when next we meet."
He looked up at him and their eyes met one last time.
They were still glaring at each other, as if they were trying to kill the other with their gaze, but then Berwald simply grunted and left Mathias alone in the wide hallway.
He had no doubt there would be many wars to come, but he was willing to see those through for the sake of his own freedom, and for Tino's sake.
He had made his decision, and Mathias would make his.
What more could they do?
As Berwald and Tino closed their heavy coats and began out into the dark forest, he felt the relief of the defiant separation, but also something else. He felt an incredible, piercing pain. Not the pain of his people, or the pain of a fresh wound torn for the sake of independence, but his own pain. He doubted Mathias knew it, since he couldn't show how he felt even when he wanted to, but in leaving him tonight, Berwald had been forced to break his own heart, too. He loved Mathias, though he couldn't stay with him any longer. His personal affections were not worth more than what the nation of Sweden was feeling as a whole, and Mathias had lost the love of the Swedish people. Even if he had not lost the love of Sweden himself.
But, it didn't matter now. Either Mathias would figure it out or he wouldn't, and there would always be more wars between them because their inherently rivalrous nature made it so.
Tino shivered and breathed a puffy breath into the cold night, and Berwald's eyes softened when they fell to him.
It was time for what had once been to truly become past, and time to look forward towards a new future. The small Finn glanced up and caught him staring down at him, and he jumped in surprise before offering Berwald an adorably large, albeit nervous smile.
Something about that smile leant a bit of comfort to Berwald, and helped to ease his pain a little. He would protect Tino with his newfound freedom, because even if the small Finn didn't know it just yet, in Berwald's mind, he was everything the Swede was starting to hope the future would hold.
And so together, the two young nations walked by each other's side into the forest, and thus went off into the darkness of the night, looking for a new future...together.