Author's note: I love Sweden, so much. I have a million SuFin fics I want to write but I saw a page from a doujin that just stuck in my mind, and between this and listening to « When Doves Cry » by Prince on repeat I just had to write this. You can find my colored-in version of the page on my fanfiction tumblr, link on my profile to that.
Loosely based on history? I didn't go crazy researching everything, but rather went with a more general flow of history. I did however use Swedish/Finish quotation marks at some point, but I picked right angle as opposed to right dumb quotes, because I love angle quotes.
Also, since I prefer using human names, I had to sort of dole out names for those who lacked (you can also find a full list of human names I use for Hetalia characters on my fanfiction tumblr under « House Style »). So we've got Berwald (Sweden), Timo (Finland), Christen (Denmark), Lukas (Norway), and Emil (Iceland). All actual or suggested names for the character, that would be appropriate for someone from their country.
I hope you enjoy as I take a break from « But Let It Go, And You Learn ».
When Doves Cry
Another fight leaves Berwald in his bed, being tended to by Timo. Another fight leaves Christen, drunk, screaming at Emil as Lukas tries to calm him. Another fight leaves more cracks in the already too-delicate Kalmar Union.
Timo's heart dies a little every time. Berwald fights for him, to protect the small Finn, and it eats him up inside to look at the aftermath. Berwald's eyes are swollen, his whole face is puffy, and he won't be able to talk for days. When he spoke it used to scare Timo, but it scares him more when Berwald can't speak. That Swedish voice has become his only assurance that this will all get better.
Berwald fights Christen because Timo can't, because his body is too small as Christen hits him, beats him, throws him about. Berwald somehow always knows when Christen starts his attack, running in from whatever he had been doing to pull the Danish man back, one large fist always making contact with that smug jaw. Berwald is stronger but Christen is a better fighter who protects nothing. What does he care if Lukas or Emil get hurt in the fight? But Berwald's weakness is that he always tries to protect Timo, opening him up for that last volley of punches that leave him unconscious and broken every time.
Christen's words are slurred and foreign to Timo's ears as they ring through the house, and he blocks them out as he holds one large hand to his chest, crying over Berwald's sleeping form. He wants to leave, but he doesn't know where he'd go. He wants to leave, but he knows Christen will never let him. He needs Berwald to want to leave too, but the Swedish nation already gives him too much, and so Timo tells himself once again that he can never ask for Berwald to do that.
For all that he scares him, Berwald is Timo's protector, his only friend.
They're somewhere in northern Norway, Christen making them all come with him as he conducts his business. The sun hasn't risen for days; the polar night consumes them.
The village is small, and an old long house acts as their shelter. Timo was still healing from his last abuse, his body shivering in the night; after Emil drifted to sleep he felt Berwald slip into his bed, holding the smaller man close. Berwald was so warm, that even the sound of Christen taking Lukas in the next bed over didn't bother him. In the morning Berwald is gone before he wakes to find Lukas eyeing him; Christen is gone too.
"Are they fighting?" Timo whispers. Lukas shrugs, his face blank.
They hadn't been at the time, but once they returned to the long house the inevitable fight ensued. In Denmark the house is large enough that they can move away from each other, a large stone structure with rooms for hiding and shedding futile tears and tending to wounds. Here there is no where to escape, until Berwald suddenly ends the fight, grabbing Timo's hand and running from the house. Emil calls out for them, but no one follows.
The only other major building in the village is a stave church. Berwald was the last to convert, to Christianity, and Timo knows it was still a reluctant act, as most things the Swede does are. Inside the church is empty, as Berwald leads them to a corner where they can hide from the cold and abuse. Each sound echos as Berwald pulls Timo to his chest, wrapping his large cloak around him. He buries his face in the Finn's shoulder, clawing at the smaller man's back, and Timo pushes his chest into Berwald's as the strong man breaks down.
It's too much for all of them. How much longer can they go on lying to each other, lying to themselves? Desperate hands try to clear Berwald's chest of bothersome clothing, Berwald doing the same to Timo. Soon their bare flesh is pressed to each other, their bodies moving together as Timo rocks his hips against Berwald, lips locked in need. The larger man is pulling painfully at the smaller's long hair, exposing his neck to the cold. Timo holds Berwald as close as he can, one arm wrapped around his neck, holding them together. There is nothing sacred to their bodies pressed together in this hallowed place.
In the night Berwald doesn't sleep, and Timo tries his best to show his thanks by resting. But he's too scared of Christen, too enamored with Berwald, too pissed at the world to leave this one for the world of dreams. That large chest is too warm, and maybe he's ill with a fever, but Berwald still stands guard and Timo sighs under the large cloak, kissing at the base of Berwald's neck.
This time Timo feels it in his bones, feels something wrong. He races to the dungeon, throwing open the door to see Christen standing over Berwald, both men bloodied. Berwald's back is to the stone fall, he's trying to stand but the fight has gone on for too long. Timo imagines what it must look like when he is the one who is defeated; normally he lays on the ground, cries, no dignity left to protect, waiting either for the next punch from the Dane or shelter from the Swede. But his companion still has his pride, a lingering defiance in his eyes, and this time Timo must protect him.
Christen moves to strike when Timo runs between them, casting too-small arms over Berwald, their cloaks mingling together. In that moment the Dane is frozen, confused. Timo screams the nastiest thing he knows, the words ringing in his ear from the night Lukas taught them to him, that they were the words Christen hated the most. Timo barely knows what they are, doesn't understand their meaning, but he sees that face contort in anger, feels Berwald whisper in his ear to stop, to leave, he can't protect him if Timo is in front of him.
He doesn't know why he does it, but from the Swede's belt Timo pulls a dagger, holding it threateningly at Christen. Berwald's attacker takes several steps back, shocked, before his face turns to a grin, knowing Timo could never get close enough to do damage. The grin is quickly wiped from his face as Berwald stands, larger arms now encircling the body that protected him, prying the dagger from the smaller hand. In Berwald's grip the dagger glints in the light, pointed directly at Christen, no hesitation in that grip, and all three men know Berwald could kill Christen if he wanted. Could stab him in the heart, rip it from his chest, and there is no way even a nation could move on from that injury.
But the Swede glances to look down at the Finn, and makes up his mind. One strong arm guides him, holding tight, as they leave the room. They walk close to Christen, and Berwald does lash out, slashing at his chest, cutting the skin beneath. As they leave Lukas stands at the door, taking in the sight. He does not try to stop them; he walks slowly to his lover, cradling Christen in his arms as the Dane yells to stop them, what is he doing?
Berwald doesn't look back as they leave into the night, but Timo does.
Everything now is scary. Everything makes the Finn jump. Even Berwald seems scarier out here, his gaze always lingering too long, his touch always too strong. They move on from place to place, and Timo needs his protection, but every time Berwald calls him his »hustru», his wife, Timo flinches just a bit.
Centuries seem to move by in days. Timo hates the cold nights, wishing for Berwald to join him in bed, to touch him like he did that night in the church. They've never spoken of it, of the stolen kisses they used to take, of the first time they were the ones moaning in some bed as Berwald filled him. Timo remembers thinking how could Lukas can be so quiet when Christen takes him, so uncaring when he was being lavished upon. But then Timo remembers that Christen takes because he wants, and Berwald took because he loves.
They still scream when they meet, there is no peace at meetings of the five Nordic nations. Christen's face seems to boil, Berwald's fists clenching as if waiting to once again slug that jaw he has destroyed so many times. Lukas is always calm, one hand on his lover's back, the other holding Emil's shoulder. Timo envies him that sort of calm, as he pleads quietly for Berwald to control himself, wrapping his arms around the man under the table. He always looks up so pleadingly until those sea-green eyes find his, and Berwald finally calms.
After they get home Berwald always pulls Timo to him, kissing his neck, kissing his shoulder, groping his ass. But Timo never reciprocates because he's still so scared of Berwald, who is no longer protecting him from Christen but rather keeping him as his own, as the Danish nation did. That's when the Swede relents, leaving, and Timo knows he won't come into his room at night. Knows the Swede touches himself, his groans always so low, and Timo wishes he was the one doing the touching as his own hands wander down under the sheets.
Now Timo is alone. How could Berwald do this to him? Yes he wanted his independence, yes he detested being the other's »hustru», but Berwald should have known what was in his heart. It's even colder without Berwald's presence in the house, and one night Timo can't do it. He walks out into the snow, forgetting his cloak inside. He kneels in the snow, the wind blowing it around his body until he too is a part of the landscape, like the trees and the rocks, covered peacefully. It's so cold and he wants to sleep so bad, but as he dozes off rough hands grab him, yanking him up. It's so demanding, as he's thrown over that large shoulder, but Timo doesn't fight back. He could never fight Berwald, who always knows when to come, when to save him.
Inside he can't stop shivering, both Berwald's warmed jacket and cloak covering him. He's in front of the fire, the Swede stoking it to warm the room as quickly as possible. Berwald' angry, Timo can tell, but he doesn't care. If this is what it takes to return to his love protecting him, than Timo would risk his life a thousand times over.
Berwald is about to say something when Timo grabs his face, icy fingers pulling the Swedish nation down. Their clothes are quickly removed as Timo boldly shoves Berwald to the ground, kissing his way down the larger man's chest. It's never enough, their bodies are never close enough, his appetite for Berwald never satisfied. The man beneath him cries and groans as Timo finally touches him the way he's always wanted to, and it's so much better than nights spent alone under sheets, only imagining.
It's a gentle roll, Timo's body still weak, that exchanges their positions and Berwald is careful to prepare the smaller nation. Elbows link up behind his knees, pulling them forward as Berwald leans over, and between the heat of the fire so close to one side and the heat of the desire so close to consuming him, Timo is burning up. Each thrust inside his body fills him completely, Berwald's face buried in his shoulder like that night in the church. The tears comes again, and it's only the second time he has ever heard his lover cry. It's the most beautiful sound in the world, and he grips Berwald's hair, pushing him closer. He meets each thrust with his own, and like that it's over, their bodies sticky from the mess they've made, on their chests and Timo's legs and the sweat clinging everywhere.
Under the large cloak they hide, and Berwald whispers that he loves Timo, will always protect him and cherish him like a husband does a wife. He recites scripture that Timo didn't even know he had read, about protecting the weak and innocent, Genesis 2:18, Abigail calming David's desire for blood, stories Timo barely remembers, words that had little meaning before that deep voice spoke them. When Berwald tells his wife he missed him, Timo kisses him, kissing his husband with as much force as his body has left.
There will always be yelling when they meet.
There may be more fights between Berwald and Christen.
There will never be any emotion in Lukas's face.
There may never come a day when Emil understands them.
But Timo also knows there will always be Berwald at his side when he needs him.
There may remain the scars of the past forever etched in their skin.
There will always be the memory of his lover's tears.
There may even come a day when they can marry.
But there will never be a day when Timo does not love Berwald.
And the sound of that man whispering, "I love you," in the dark is simply breathtaking.