A/N: Hej guys! This is another DenSu/SweDen story. I got the idea after hearing Denmark's Eurovision song and it just wouldn't go away... so this is the result. I was going to upload it as a Denmark/Sweden Birthday tribute, but I wasn't happy with it... so it's here now. Happy Belated Birthdays you two. I don't have a beta, so if there are any mistakes in the spelling or grammar feel free to notify me and I'll do my best to fix it; I also don't speak Swedish or Danish, and had to use Google Translate for those parts, so if you find any errors, once again feel free to point it out.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia!
I'll leave you to the story now. Highly Paraphrased historical research is at the end.
He remembers when they were young and unblemished with war.
He remembers those long winter nights they used to spend huddled around the fire, flames flickering across their faces.
He remembers those murmured conversations they shared. Those nights when it wasn't the three of them, because Norge was off somewhere with his wretch, Vinland.
He remembers how his lillebror [1] used to snuggle up to his chest, trying to seek comfort in the familiar warmth.
He remembers too much.
He wants to forget.
He wants to ignore those burning feelings inside of him, for they just cause pain and anguish.
February, 874 [2]
The sky is red tonight
We're on the edge tonight
No shooting star to guide us
It was one of those dark freezing nights, smack right in the middle of the winter. Berri was curled up next to him, an elk pelt draped over his small shoulders. "Dan?" the northerner asked softly.
He look down at his lillebror. "Yes?"
"Where does Norge go when he's not with us?"
How could he say this? Berri wasn't that much younger than him — physically, a couple of years at most — but he was young and innocent, and he didn't want to steal that away from Berri like it had been stolen from him. "Ber, Norge's in love."
He could see the confusion dance in his brothers eyes. "What do you mean 'love'? Norge loves us too doesn't he?"
He couldn't help but laugh. "Yes Ber, Norge loves us. But that's a different kind of love. In love is like those married couples in the villages. The kind of love where you want to spend the rest of you life with someone."
His brother — in all but blood — nods, seemingly understanding. "Dan, promise me you won't fall in love. I don't want you to disappear too."
He could hear his heart break right then. How could he promise not to fall in love if he already had? "I won't leave you Ber. Not now, not ever."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
June, 1523 [3]
Eye for an eye, why tear each other apart?
Please tell me why, why do we make it so hard?
Look at us now, we only got ourselves to blame
It's such a shame
He sees red, and he tries to control the emotions he knows he can't.
His once, no still, adorable lillebror all grown up standing there with a sword point against his throat.
He had just wanted them to be together. He had just wanted them to be a family.
But it wasn't enough.
He couldn't protect him forever. He had to let him grow up. He had to let him learn on his own.
Tears stream down from his eyes. He lets the axe clang to the floor. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
How many times can we win and lose?
How many times can we break the rules between us?
Only teardrops
"You murdered them! You slaughtered my people, and made a puppet of me!" He wanted Berwald to shout at him. Anything would be better than the calm icy cold tone he was receiving now.
"I…" He wanted to explain, but he couldn't. He couldn't tell Berri that he didn't want to be alone. He couldn't tell Berri that he loved him.
"Don't, you'll just make it worse." He couldn't take this much longer. He wanted his lillebror back. "Just go!"
"What?"
"Do you want me to change my mind?" He didn't answer, and Berri seemed to take that as answer enough. "I can't kill you. No matter what, you're still my storebror [4]. Now go, before I get my sanity back!"
He turned, and a glimpse of a smile flickered across his face.
There was still hope for them yet.
14 January, 1814 [5]
300 years. 300 years of bloodshed and violence. They never did anything half-heartedly did they?
They had never needed to fight, but it seemed that was a habit that was easy to fall back on.
It was easy to scream, and yell, and rage. Far easier than admitting the truth.
His people though, they hated the Swedes with so much passion. He wished they didn't, but that was the thing about humans; there lives were short and they couldn't remember a time when it wasn't normal to hate Sweden. That didn't make it right though, and it certainly didn't help him.
How many times do we have to fight?
How many times till we get it right between us?
Only teardrops
He wanted to be able to blame this all on France and England, and their stupid petty fighting. But he couldn't, because they weren't any worse than Ber and him.
It was his fault. All his fault.
He'd made the mistake of aligning with France. He should never have done that. If only he'd stayed neutral, then he wouldn't have thrown Sweden in the mix too.6 For Berri knew all to well that your enemy's enemy is your friend.
He wished he hadn't been so angry. And perhaps he wouldn't have been so spiteful if he hadn't lost; there was just something so insulting about being beaten over and over by one's lillebror.
But he had lost, and all those years of bottled emotions came bubbling up to the surface. Rising and rising, until one by one they popped and burst.
Berwald thought he could take Norge did he?
Hmph! Norge was his — always had been, always would be — even if what he truly wanted was never meant to be.
He had resigned himself long ago to accept that Ber was never going to be his, but Norge was his, and he wasn't giving that up.
If he couldn't have him, no one could.
Ber and him were like fire and ice — day and night. Polar opposites never meant to be, for when they met they'd implode.
But why couldn't they be. They'd been friends once upon a time, brothers even. Their's was a bond that couldn't be snapped easily; it ran deep, buried and forgotten over years of hatred.
But there was once thing he did know; that when it came to the end, and the world went to hell they'd stand side by side once more. When Ragnarök7 came they'd be brothers again.
It was a promise, and Berri never broke a promise.
October 1943 [8]
So come and face me now
Here on the stage tonight
Let's leave the past behind us
"I… T-tak." He couldn't speak. He couldn't even begin to express how much it meant to him.
In the distance the sea tumbled and churned. Green and blue mixing and melding into all shades.
The sky in all its vastness mirrored his conflicted emotions. Drizzle flittering down from cloud who could only try to block the sun.
He wanted to break down and cry. To let spill his tears into the sea from whence they came. Instead he opted for the awkward shifting of the weight from foot to foot, unsure of has to proceed in this "conversation."
Berri must have noticed, for on his shoulder lay a familiar comforting hand. "Matthias…"
Eye for an eye, why tear each other apart?
Please tell me why, why do we make it so hard?
Look at us now, we only got ourselves to blame
It's such a shame
His eyes were watering, he could bare it anymore. He stumbled forward collapsing on the off guard Swede, who caught him in an embrace with stiff arms. "I'm sorry. It was my fault, all my fault. I'm just so sorry."
He could feel fingers, light to the touch, stroke his face in a poor attempt at comfort. "Shh… Calm down Dan." Slowly he lifted his face upwards so he could look Berri in the eyes. Was it happening? "The fault is just as much mine as yours."
"Ber," he croaked out, eyes red and puffy.
"Relax. I know you weren't expecting me to be here, but I… I had to help. It was the right thing to do. Besides, I made a promise. Didn't I? Even in the darkest of days we'd stand side by side."
His eyes widened. "Ragnarök," he breathed out. "You think?"
Berri's eye's fell to the floor. "I don't think, I know." There was a pause and then… "you're brave Dan, you know that."
"What?"
"What your doing right now; standing up to Ludwig in every little way possible, smuggling those persecuted out of the country. You're risking everything for just a few of your people."
"Why wouldn't I? They're my citizens, my people, the very essence that makes me me. Without them I am nothing, and I'd gladly give anything to save them."
"I know, but there aren't many who would to the same. Rest assured though, I will help you as much as I can."
The unasked question of 'what would you do?' hung in the air, but he didn't dare ask, not when the were finally speaking again. He held out his hand. "Brothers?" he asked, voice wavering ever so slightly.
Berri hugged him once more. "Brothers," he agreed.
It was a step in the right direction, but still his heart longed for more.
18th May, 2013
It was a rather pleasant day in København; the sun shone brightly and it was neither too hot, nor too cold.
Matthias however could not be found, out and about laughing with his people as one might have expected. Instead, he was currently attempting to straighten up his fifth floor flat while sipping a mug of steaming coffee. Not that his flat really needed the cleaning. Much like Sweden he was a neat-freat, and completely OCD about each and every one of his things have its own special spot.
He'd invited the other nordics over to watch the final with him. Of course they'd all had conflicts, except Sweden. Honestly he'd thought it would have been the other way around; but Norge and Iceland were off visiting Vinland, Finland was who knows where galavanting off with Estonia, and he supposed that Ber must want a break after orchestrating that whole thing.
He was glad it was only Berri though. It would have been awkward if Berri figured it out around the others, or worse yet if Norge realized what he had done.
Come to think of it Berri was due to arrive any minute, and with that thought he scurried around the already spotless kitchen-living room suite - a cup of coffee carefully balanced in one hand and the other free to rearranging various props by mere centimeters.
He only had about a minute of bored agony to wait before the sound of the door bell rang out.
"Hej, come in. Do you want some coffee or a Carlsberg?"
"Coffee." Came the murmured answer. "Wouldn't want to ingest any of your week disgusting Danish shit."
"Carlsberg is a gift of the gods. I'm gonna get you to admit it one day."
"Hmph"
"Anyway do you want anything else?" Let it never be said he wasn't a good host.
"M'fine."
Tell me
How many times can we win and lose?
How many times can we break the rules between us?
Only teardrops
When Matthias returned he found Berri gazing at the wall - where upon hung a polished steel battle axe, battered and used, but nevertheless beautiful. A forlorn expression flickered in Berri's eyes. There was so much confusion there, so much sadness and regret.
"Hej" Berri turned to face him and he handed over the coffee.
"Do you always keep an axe in your living room to intimidate visitors, or am I special?" It was clearly meant as a joke, but the underlying displeasure was definetly there.
"I... well... I wasn't exactly going to use it anymore, and I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it."
"It was a joke Dan. Don't take it so personally."
But it's you. He wanted to interject. "The final should be starting pretty soon. Wanna watch?"
"Sure." In the background the TV flickered on, but Berwald didn't seem to care. He was looking straight at Matthias, and yet it felt more like he was looking though him at something behind him. "Thanks for inviting me," Berri mumbled.
Matthias laughed. "Thanks for showing up."
"Twas nothing."
Berri turned towards the screen, away from him, and Matthias followed not wanting to break this comfortable peace between them. But of course he was still Matthias, so the silence didn't last long. "Wait! Is that Erik Saade?"
Berri glanced over at him, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I can."
"But Erik Saade…"
"Exactly."
"The guy sang a song about being popular to get a girl for God's sake."
He could swear he heard Berri snort, but the Swede's face was impassive as ever. The performances were about to start, and Berri simply held out his hand. "Good luck Dan."
He brushed the hand off, and engulfed Berwald in a hug. "Good luck Ber, I hope you don't loose too badly."
Berri shoved him off, and scooted away from him. "Shut up Dan. I wanna watch." But Ber's face still held that cute little smile, so all was good.
They settled into that comfortable silence that Matthias loved. It was easy being like this with Berri. Just together, calm, and innocent. No fighting, no interrupting Norwegians, and no hatred. He could almost thrive off of it. But that was the thing, he could almost thrive off of it. It wasn't sufficient. No matter how much he tried to tell himself it was enough, it never would be.
How many times do we have to fight?
How many times till we get it right between us?
Only teardrops
Emmelie voice ran clear and true, and Matthias felt his face heating up as Berri glanced over at him again. He should never have… This was a stupid idea. It wasn't meant to be. If it had, it would have happened long ago. They'd had years. But had they? There was the optimistic voice. The one that told him that they'd only been on speaking terms recently, so there was still hope. "Matthias? Is this?"
He unsuccessfully tried to burry himself in a cushion. "Uh… maybe…"
"Thank you Matthias. It means a lot." What do you mean you Swedish knucklehead? It means a lot? What are you trying to say?
"Well… I…" He was blushing now. He was sure of it.
"It's very thoughtful of you. It must have been hard to publicly say it. Apology accepted." Is that what he thought it was?
"It wasn't exactly… I…"
"Good." He wasn't sure when, but at some point Berri had scooted closer and his forehead was no brushing Matthias own.
He was at a loose for words. Maybe, just maybe… "Yeah… Good. No. Great!" Uncomfortable, Matthias tried to adjust himself, but he ending up rolling them both to the floor where he landed unceremoniously on top of Berri. Said Swede simply chuckled, holding Matthias' stare. "God, Ber… Can I kiss you?"
"Go ahead. I don't see anyone stoppin…" And he was cut off, by a beaming Matthias.
What's gone between us has come between us
Only teardrops
Only teardrops
Footnotes: History, Translations, and HeadCannons
[1] Danish/Swedish: little brother
[2] Colonization of Iceland. Norge is off seeing Vinland (fem Canada), who is to be Iceland's mother. When she has to go Norge is heartbroken, and chooses to raise Emil (Iceland) as his younger brother so that he doesn't have to remember how it felt to loose her.
[3] Swedish War of Liberation. (a violent response to the stockholm bloodbath and the "tyranny" of Denmark's controlling power in Kalmar union.)
End of the Kalmar Union.
June is near the end of the war.
[4] Danish/Swedish: big brother
[5] Treaty of Kiel
End of Danish and Swedish involvement in the Napoleonic Wars.
Denmark agreed to hand over Norway to Sweden, but then encouraged Norway in it's fight for independence with pissed of Sweden, so to say.
Basically a bloody mess, because Norway won it's independence right after being used as a term in a treaty.
In the end Norway kept their independence and Prussia got Swedish Pomerania.
[6] Yes I'm aware that Sweden broke the neutrality first by allying with England and Prussia against France, and then Denmark - feeling isolated- sided with france in the hopes that they would be protected and it backfired on them.
But I felt that it would make more sense if in this universe Denmark felt like he started it, because it gives him more reason to feel guilty for the whole chaotic mess with Norge afterwards. (I am of course referring to Norge's war for independence.)
[7] Norsk mythology: the end of the world
The final battle between the gods and giants. The gods know they shall loose, but try to delay it as much as they can.
[8] For some reason, in the beginning of the Nazi occupation of Denmark, the Nazis cut Denmark a lot of slack when it came to enforcing all of their decrees. In late 1943 the Nazi finally had enough of compromising with the Dane's and were pissed off with all the resistance fighting, so they ordered all the Jews to be deported to concentration camps.
The resistance movement smuggled them to neutral Sweden in boats, after temporally stop guard dogs from smelling with cocaine in handkerchiefs.
Only in the end of September had the Swedish government agreed to serve as an asylum for Jewish refugees, at the coercion of Bohr (a physicist going to America to work on the Manhattan project).