Please excuse the fact that Latvia is completely OOC. This is before Russian occupation, so I don't see any reason that he should be the nervous kid that we see him as usually. In headcanon, (and history-canon) he was a pretty tough kid, for awhile. Maybe that's why he and Peter are often together – he used to be the same as Peter, before life happened and screwed him over?
I wrote this for Verboten Byacolate, in an exchange. All of her work is WONDERFUL, but you should definitely check out the Rome X Germania she wrote for me in exchange. Its gorgeous. Really. I must apologize to you, though, dear… because I'm a bad person, this is gonna be in two parts… I didn't get it all done T^T SORRY. But rest assured, the best is yet to come.
My prompt was a FinlandxFEM!Sweden – so Sweden is a girl. :3 Which amuses me. Also, sorry for Sweden's name. I couldn't resist.
Estonia came to the gate apologizing.
"I'm sorry I took so long to answer!" he gasped breathlessly, as if he had run across the keep. Finland was reasonably sure that he had. "You guys are covered in mud – I'm so sorry, the roads must have been horrible! I didn't mean to drag you out here but –"
"S'fine" Sweden broke in.
And Estonia stopped. Suddenly, Finland was infinitely grateful that Sweden scared the crap out of him. Because that mean she scared the crap out of everyone else.
The whole journey, from the Western City of Lakes to this Eastern Border, had begun with an argument between him and Sweden. That he had lost. Inevitably. Because, even though the argument had been to assert his manliness, in the end he was far too scared to push the issue.
Um. Not scared. Respectful. Of women. Yes. He wasn't scared of a girl.
Sweden had announced it. "M'leavin'. Y're comin' w'me. Not leav'n' y' here were D'nm'rk could find y'," she had mumbled. The length of the speech had been enough to assure Finland that she was absolutely serious. He argued the point anyway.
"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself for awhile! Besides, Denmark is home, licking his wounds. I could take care of the house, keep things under control. I might be your territory, but I'm a man and I can take care of myself."
"I kn'w."
And Finland knew that despite the fact she had acquiesced (and didn't that mean that he had won the argument?) he would still be following her wherever she was going. And so he did, across the entire Baltic on a traditional kind of ship that caused him to be violently ill, followed by weeks of riding on horse-back across Livonia, to the castle that Estonia was inhabiting at the moment. Throughout the entire journey, Sweden had done her best to make sure that he was happy, which made him flush with pleasure exactly half a moment before he became embarrassed and uncomfortable, which, in turn, was exactly half a moment before he tried to argue with Sweden about whatever she was doing (sharing blankets, catching extra food, awkwardly patting his back as he threw up over the side of the boat) and found that one look at her face was enough to terrify him out of his wits.
She was not ugly. That was not the issue. In fact, the moments that Finland watched her, fast asleep on their shared bed (not like that. Really. She was just very protective of her protectorate) , her face relaxed into something sharp and fierce yet intensely beautiful, full of some sort of ingrained compassion that Finland ached to touch her. But he wouldn't. Because she was a woman. And he wouldn't do that to a sleeping woman.
Not because he was afraid that she'd wake up.
So, here they were, at Estonia's house and Finland was reasonably sure they were there to defend their borders against the large, awkward youth that seemed to loom on the other side of the river, all violet eyes and large bones and a strange white cloth draped around his neck like a noose. Sweden hadn't volunteered any information about their purpose here at all; Finland had gleaned it on his own.
"Come in, come in," Estonia urged, ushering them inside the walls and across to the small keep. It wasn't a large fort, and seemed fit to bursting with an army of unusual size. "I'm so sorry – Latvia and Lithuania showed up, along with much of their armies, just like you ordered, Sweden –" He gave her a nod, but seemed to be speaking directly to Finland. "- but this is a really small castle and I really only have one room left at all and while I'd love it if the lady could sleep alone – " Again, he nodded at Sweden "Latvia and Lithuania are already staying in my room and there's nowhere to put you, Finland, and I figured if you had to room with anyone, Sweden, it should be someone you're used to. I-is that okay?" He was staring at the ground.
"S'fine." Sweden mumbled almost immediately. "W're used to't."
Estonia flushed. So did Finland.
"Not like that!" he sputtered. Sweden gave him a confused look. Estonia flushed deeper.
"Of course." He said. "Um… would you like to get cleaned up? I wasn't able to draw baths or anything yet but there should be hot water up in your room so you can clean your faces and such and relax after your trip. Really, I appreciate you coming to help."
For a slow, short moment, Estonia looked full into Sweden's face, gratitude colouring his voice. He looked away just as quickly, flinching. If Finland didn't know better, he would have thought that Sweden had flinched as well. Still, they followed Estonia up to their room.
He hadn't been lying about the fort being full. The keep itself seemed about to overflow with humanity, the regular servants and staff overcome with those that inevitably followed the armies that had arrived. Most of the soldiers were, obviously, quartered outside the keep walls, but officers and high ranks took advantage of the presence of a castle and insinuated themselves within its walls as much as they could.
During dinner, Finland took time to catch up with the Baltic brothers. He and Estonia talked animatedly about past happenings, Lithuania and Latvia participating in the conversation at times. Sweden, seated beside Finland, was silent, eating quietly and finishing quickly. She excused herself before dessert. Finland watched her go, her body tall and strong and dressed as a man's would be but full of curves. He both relieved and upset.
Estonia elbowed him in the side as soon as she was out of earshot.
"Finland, are you okay?"
"Y-yes, of course, I was just –"
"No, I mean, in general. Living where you are. With her."
Finland bristled a little, for reasons he could not explain. "Her name is Susan. Or Sweden. Not 'her'."
Estonia fixed him with a knowing glance. "She scares you."
"I'm not the only one," mumbled Finland, on the defensive. "It's not her fault. She just tends to glare. She's tall and a little intimidating and yeah, it scares me, but it scares you too."
"I know. She does," agreed Estonia amiably. "I'm not attacking your masculinity. I'm just making sure you're okay. She seems the kind who would beat you if you did something wrong."
Finland's ears turned positively crimson. "She'd never! She's nice to me and takes care of the land and we never talk or anything anyway and she's even letting me keep reindeer in the barn!" He was even allowed to name them – Comet and Cupid and Vixen … he didn't understand why Sweden had mumbled "…str'nge…" when he had told her.
Estonia shook his head. "Fine, fine, excuse me for being concerned. She's just… well, I admire her a bit. Did you hear about Denmark?"
"… um, sure?" In fact, Finland had not heard "about Denmark". He knew that the man was still mad about their recent flight and their dissolution of the Kalmar Union, and he had been plotting… something… and every few months Sweden would disappear for weeks at a time in an effort to thwart whatever he was up to, but not much pierced the inherent calm of their cottage in the northern forests. He hadn't even heard Sweden mention his name for a long time, and whenever she returned home from campaigns…well, she was never the type to volunteer information, anyway.
"You haven't heard?" asked Latvia, who had been eavesdropping. He was a strong young lad, usually, although Finland noted with a sort of worry that he was much thinner than the last time they had met; jumpier, too, often looking out the window of the keep as if he could see across the river to the enemy they were up against. He hoped that the deterioration was only temporary. He had a soft spot for Latvia.
"Sweden has been out kicking ass!" announced Latvia, almost proudly, as Lithuania turned and poked his temple.
"Language!" the brunette chastised with a long-suffering sigh. Latvia grinned mischievously.
"Anyway, she's been great – Denmark keeps sending out raiding parties and stuff, to the coast and along trade routes and he's trying to start a war but Sweden keeps swooping in like, like, those Valkyries you were telling me about, and kicking him all the way back to his house. This is the third or fourth time, I'm sure – and yet she's still out here, defending us from this Rus kid. I mean, who doesn't get tired and beat-up from all that fighting? She must be invincible."
Lithuania shook his head wistfully. "Latvia, you know that is impossible. Eventually, we will all become something else. No one is invincible."
Finland frowned, trying to dispel the image of Sweden as a traditional all-wings-no-clothes Valkyrie from his head. Latvia's words had struck a chord. He had known that Sweden had been out defending her land from Denmark – she had been out defending him. But whenever she returned home, it was always in the same, quiet spirits she had left. He never really thought about it. She must be tired. He wondered what kept her fighting. None of them, sitting at this table, could do it, he thought. Not even him. He didn't see the point. He didn't have much to fight for.
Maybe she has a reason to fight, he thought to himself. Something we're missing. Something to love about freedom or land or power that we just don't have.
He yawned and stretched, still thinking.
Estonia jumped into "host-mode", something he seemed to be a natural at. "You must be pretty tired; that journey can't have been fun. Do you want to go to sleep now?"
Finland nodded. "Yeah. I'm pretty exhausted. It'll be nice to have a bed again."
"You sure you don't mind sleeping with her – I mean, Susan?"
Finland rolled his eyes. "I told you. It's fine. We are kind of used to it – at least on the road, she gets really protective and insists that we're in the same tent." And he wasn't going to admit it to anyone, but those nights he felt safer than he ever had. He might have his pride, but he also knew he's much rather be taking care of animals or growing vegetables than fighting, and he wasn't very good. Sweden was. And she made sure that he was okay.
"Well, if she beats you –"
"Estonia, if you weren't our host, I'd smack you." said Finland sweetly, smiling. He headed up to his room.
Sweden was there, shrugging out of her leather vest and untying her boots. Finland entered, catching her standing at the washbowl, barefoot, severe braid of hair let down into something loose and faintly beautiful, wearing only the loose breeches and tunic they had worn on the road almost all the way here. Finland froze, feeling like he was doing something dirty, staring at her when she was like this, her face turned, her guard down – it was wrong, as if he was staring at her without clothing. She seemed… vulnerable.
He was about to turn around, duck out, leave her in peace, when she caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and faced him. The spell was broken, the glare was back, and there she stood in all of her fierce and frightening glory. Finland blinked, feeling a stutter in his heart that was definitely dread. She was so kind but… all the glaring – did she hate him? Was he a disappointment? Slight insecurity stirred in his chest. The way she treated him seemed kind, but maybe impersonal, as if he had done something wrong. What did he do that always seemed to upset her so?
"Even'ng," she mumbled.
"Ah, good evening Sweden!" blurted Finland, falling into his traditional method of dealing with stress or anxiety – babbling. "I was just going to bed; it's been such a long ride and I'm excited for a real bed. I bet you are, too, huh? Of course, I didn't expect that we'd be sharing a room. If it were up to me, we'd have separate rooms, you know? Even if I had to room with Estonia –"
"Sep'rate rooms?" Sweden interrupted. "Y'like that better?"
"Well, you know! For propriety's sake!" announced Finland. "Wouldn't do for a man and woman to be sharing a bed, right?"
"Y'r uncomf'rt'ble?"
"Oh, well, you know!" Finland said again. "A little, but I can deal, right?"
Sweden just nodded curtly, turning back to the washbowl with an abruptness that threatened to topple it.
Finland just stared for a moment longer, then sat on the bed and kicked off his boots and socks. He'd wear his travelling clothes tonight and then see about washing them in the morning, he decided. He still had a clean pair of breeches and a few shirts that were relatively unsoiled, so it wasn't much of a big deal. Sighing contentedly, he eased himself back onto the straw tick mattress, comfortably wiggling into the relative softness of Estonia's homespun sheets and thick covers. It really was much better than sleeping on the ground, or in a boat – although his bed at home, the one Sweden had made him, was still incomparable. But this was definitely nice.
"Mm… g'night Sweden," he murmured into the pillow, his eyes already beginning to droop. "Blow out the candle when you're done, please?"
The candle was blown out almost immediately, but Finland was already asleep, and didn't notice.
Despite the fact that he had been looking forward to a real bed for a long time, Finland hadn't slept well. He never actually woke up during the night, but rather fell recklessly from one strange dream to another, dreams of fire and conquest and rocking storms on a taut ocean. And he was alone, but one – each dream, it seemed like he was the only soul in the world, against some nameless, faceless enemy that loomed over him like dread. Finally, as morning light peeked through the thin sliver of window cut into the wall, his eyes opened fully and completely. For a long moment, he laid there, chest heaving, feeling empty and panicky.
He'd had these dreams before, many times, especially back at home. The surfaced and swirled during Sweden's many campaigns, making it impossible for him to sleep properly at times. But they hadn't plagued him at all since their journey started, and he had hoped that perhaps they were gone for good. Yet now, off the road, he was back in the same rut.
Concerned, he rolled to face Sweden. He hoped he hadn't kept her awake with tossing and turning and such – but she wasn't there. The sheets beside him were empty; in fact, Finland had rolled over and was splayed out over most of the bed himself. Something about the empty bed and the horrible dreams left him with a thick sense of doubt in his stomach, as if something were missing.
Well, of course its hard to get used to it, he told himself, after weeks on end sleeping cramped in a tent, waking together before first light... I'm just disoriented, and surprised to have all this room.
He sat up, stretching and yawning mightily, as Sweden walked through the door. He smiled sheepishly at her.
"Morning, Sweden," he said quietly. "What're you doing up so early? Did I wake you last night?"
She shook her head. "W'nt t'see 'f I could get m'clothes w'shed," she replied. "S'all."
Finland noticed, vaguely, that she was wearing the same outfit as she had the night before, plus boots, not having changed when she woke up. Her hair was still loose and long, although for some reason it had bits of straw or hay tangled in the ends. He raised an eyebrow.
"Sweden, you have straw in your hair."
"Oh," she said, eyes widening and cheeks going pink. "Tha's…str'nge…" she moved over to her bag to grab a hairbrush. Finland caught sight of her clean clothes inside, neatly folded and packed away. He frowned, but before he could say anything, she had re-buttoned the flap and was walking out the door, hairbrush in hand.
"Lavat'ry," she mumbled by way of explanation.
Finland watched her go, then scrambled over the mattress to her bag. Sure enough, all her clothes were in there; she had been lying about getting them washed. Finland frowned, upset despite himself. Why did she lie to him? They were… friends, or something, he had thought. He had never lied to her. Ever. And he was pretty sure she had never lied to him, but…
Quite frankly, Finland didn't know what to think. He shook his head, getting out of bed and splashing water on his face. He'd figure it out later. Now that he and Sweden were in Estonia's house, they had work to do –
In the next second, Sweden had torn into the room, boots skidding on the flagstones as she dashed headlong in, swiping her bag and sword from where she had stashed them on the floor. Her hair was back in its plait, her visage seeming less tired. And furious.
"Grab y'r s'rd," she mumbled, and Finland had to take a moment to realize that she was talking about his sword. He snatched his weapon immediately, recognizing Sweden's serious tone – well, more serious than usual.
"Swe –"
"Rus th'nk th'can 'ttack us," she grunted by way of explanation as Finland wriggled into his boots and clipped on his swordbelt. "Seems w' got h're just in time."
She dashed back out the door, Finland on her tail. As soon as an emergency occurred, all awkwardness, all fear, was dropped. They both knew they had work to do, and they knew how to do it. Together.
