Hello everyone! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction so I hope you like it!

Summary: Multichapter. The story of Sweden and Finland, from their time under Denmark's rule until the present. This is basically one huge headcanon.

Escape from Servitude : Chapter 1

FINLAND'S POV

I sighed as I crawled into my bed. It had been a really long day – a day spent doing mountains of laundry. My back hurt from crouching at the washing basin and my knuckles were raw from where they chaffed against the scrubbing board. My whole body was tired and my eyelids felt heavy.

I pulled the old blankets up to my chin and shuffled around, trying to get comfortable on the small and not-particularly-soft bed. Despite the bed, I found my eyes drifting shut after only a few minutes of lying there.

I was suddenly awoken by a huge crash downstairs, followed by angry voices. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but they were undeniably the voices of Mr Denmark and Mr Sweden.

Mr Denmark was in charge of the Kalmar Union and therefore the ruler of all the Nordic countries. He was loud, full of himself, and loved power. Mr Sweden… well, I did not know him very well. He seemed quiet and aloof, but I knew he had a rebellious streak. He didn't like doing what he was told and that's why Mr Denmark yelled at him a lot.

I strained my ears to hear what was being said, but I couldn't pick out any words over the howling of the wind outside and the creaking noises made by the house settling. I must've been too exhausted to notice all these sounds earlier, but now they seemed so loud.

After a while, the shouting subsided and the wind died down a little too, and finally, I was able to drift off to sleep.

The next day, it was my turn to go to the market. It was a two-mile walk to get there so I set off straight after breakfast. I quite enjoyed going to the market – it got me out of the house and among so many interesting people, and I also got the privilege of actually having money, even though I had absolutely no say in what it was spent on.

I grabbed a basket to carry the food home and set off down the dusty lane, listening contentedly to the jingle of coins in my pocket. Inspired by the almost-melodic sound of the coins bumping together, I started to hum a little tune. It helped pass the time as I walked the long distance to the market.

When I arrived at my destination, I wandered leisurely around the stalls, buying the foods I'd been instructed to get. After I bought a small selection of fruits and vegetables, there was just one thing left to get and I always saved the best for last.

A small bell rang as I opened the door of the bakery to be greeted by that wonderful smell of freshly baked bread. I inhaled deeply. There was no other smell in the world as pleasing to me as this.

I stepped up to the counter, behind which stood a pretty, young woman with her blonde hair styled into two braids. She smiled at me and asked what I would like. I smiled back and asked for a dozen baps. She picked twelve baps from a freshly made batch and gave them to me. I placed them in my basket and handed her the small pile of coins I had waiting in my hand. She gave me my change and I left, saying goodbye to her as I did so.

I looked down at the baps - all warm and delicious – and decided to have one. Denmark wouldn't notice. I'd helped myself to one several times before and he hadn't said anything to me. He only ever counted the change I gave him, never the amount of food.

I picked out the one I deemed the most tasty-looking and bit into it hastily. It was so warm and soft and it tasted so good. It was gone too quickly and I found myself eying up the other eleven. I had to restrain myself though. Denmark would notice if I came home with only a few baps, and besides, these were for everyone, not just me.

Still, I couldn't help stealing glances at them all the way home, and I swear they were watching me and whispering "Eat me, I'm delicious".

When I reached home, I immediately went to put the food away. I was just finishing when Norway came in the back door, carrying a basket of fish and a fishing rod.

"How was it today?" I asked him politely. He wasn't particularly talkative and I took every opportunity I could to make him speak. He was the closest thing I had to a friend in this house.

"Not too good," he replied. "I caught quite a few, but they're all tiny. I think all the big ones have moved upstream."

I peered into the basket. He was right – they were tiny. This was quite worrying. Fish was one of our staple foods - that and bread. I immediately felt guilty for stealing that bap earlier.

Later that evening, after dinner, Denmark ordered me to wash all the dishes and scrub all the pots and pans. I hated doing dishes. It was hard work; it was repetitive; and it was extremely boring.

I was in the middle of doing this hated task when I heard and small noise behind me and I turned around. In the doorway stood Mr Sweden – only for a second and then he was gone, but not before I noticed the large, ugly bruise blossoming beneath his left eye. That must have been from his fight yesterday. Denmark had one too.

I definitely didn't think Denmark was a bad person, as much as I did want to get away from his house and his rule. And, as intimidating as Mr Sweden was, I was quite sure he wasn't bad either. There was just something about the two of them – they just rubbed each other the wrong way.

"Hey, you finished in here yet?" a quiet voice called from behind me. It was Norway.

"Almost," I replied, picking up the final dirty pan and starting to clean it.

"I was just about to give Iceland a bath, do you mind helping me?" he asked calmly. I smiled at him and nodded. "I'll be there in a minute."

When I entered the room, there was a huge fire roaring in the fireplace with the round, wooden bath sitting in front of it. Beside the bath, Norway was sitting on his knees and trying to pull Iceland's shirt up over his head.

"Stop pulling! You're gonna pull my ears off!" Iceland whined as he struggled to get away.

"Just stop squirming. It'll be off in a second if you just stay still."

I sat down beside Norway as he lifted the now-naked child into the tub.

"Why do I always have to have my bath after Denmark?" Iceland complained.

Norway sighed. "Because he can do whatever he wants. Just be glad we're letting you wash before us, while the water's still warm," he replied as he started to wash the boy's hair.

"I really don't like living like this. All Denmark does is order us about. The power has really gone to his head," I confessed.

Norway hummed in agreement. "And he doesn't realise that he's pushing everyone away from him. You know, he still insists we are a family, but he treats us like slaves."

"Yeah! He's so bossy!" Iceland interjected. He styled his soaped-up hair into an imitation of Denmark's. "I'm the great Denmark! Wash my dishes! Scrub my floors! Smell my feet! " he mocked. I laughed at him and even Norway let out a chuckle.

"Okay Iceland," I said. "Close your eyes or you'll get bubbles in them." He closed his eyes so tightly that he screwed his entire face up. I giggled a bit at how cute that was. I knew he hated this part of bath-time the most. I raised the jug and emptied the water over his head.

The sun had already set and everyone else was away to bed. I was the only one still downstairs and I was in the middle of taking my bath – my cold bath. The water was starting to feel chilly and the dwindling fire did nothing to help. I yawned loudly. I should finish up soon and get to bed. It had been another long day and I was really tired.

My mind started to wander back to my days in Finland where I could just step into the sauna if I was cold. Saunas were amazing, especially in winter. I loved pouring water on the hot rocks and watching the steam this produced filling the room.

The next thing I knew, I had woken up on the couch with a blanket over me. I must have fallen asleep in the bath – yep, I was still naked – and someone must have lifted me out of the bath – whilst naked – and put me here. I briefly wondered who it was before deciding the first thing to do was to put some clothes on.

I pulled the blanket round me like a cloak as I stood, hoping to save some of my modesty and not wanting to subject the others to the sight of my naked body before breakfast.

I climbed the stairs as quietly as I could, trying not to wake anyone. I didn't want to have to explain this to anybody. As my luck would have it, a door opened to my left and Norway emerged, carrying a half-asleep Iceland. I thought it was really cute how close those two were. Norway had found him on a voyage to a new land many years ago and taken him in as a little brother.

Norway looked at me plainly, no hints to his emotion other than a small quirk in his eyebrow.

"I fell asleep in the bath last night." I explained, blushing because I was naked under this blanket. "I only just woke up so I'm going to get some clothes."

He stared at me with a look of shock.

"You slept in the bath tub all night!? You'll catch hypothermia doing that!"

"Oh, I wasn't in it all night. Someone lifted me out and put me on the couch. I thought it must have been you, but I guess not." I laughed a little, the embarrassment hitting me that some unknown individual in the house had seen me naked.

After getting dressed, I headed to the front door and slipped into my shoes to go out and fetch water. I turned to pick up the bucket, but it was already full. Hmmm, that was strange. Oh well, less work for me. Thank you, mystery person.

I quickly had some breakfast and decided to start into my next task of the day – churning butter. That may sound like fun, and it is – for the first few minutes, then it gets really, really boring. Still, it had to be done.

I poured the cream into the butter churner and got to work. As I worked, I heard someone shuffle into the kitchen. It was Mr Sweden. His eyes met with mine and he looked at me intensely. I averted my eyes, feeling intimidated by his glare.

I tried to pretend he wasn't there and kept working. Then I realised how awkward it was to have someone watch me while I move my hands up and down a pole. I stopped immediately and chanced a glance in his direction. He was emerging from the pantry with some food in his hand that I couldn't really see properly.

I didn't want to just sit there in awkward silence until he left, and it seemed too embarrassing to continue churning the butter, so I opted to start coughing. After he left the room, I stopped.

I resumed my work and it wasn't long before I felt another pair of eyes on me. I looked up to see Norway staring with a hungry and almost lustful expression on his face. I knew the look wasn't directed at me though. That look, I had learned, was reserved for butter – something which he loved immensely.

He usually kept such a calm, cool demeanour so it was funny to see such an absurd expression on him. I wondered if he knew he looked like a wolf that had just discovered a flock of defenceless hens, when he looked at butter.

After a prolonged moment of staring, he finally asked, "Is it almost done?"

"I don't know. I'll check it now," I replied, stopping my ministrations and removing the lid to check the consistency. I peered in, leaning closer to get a better look. Just at that moment, my foot slipped on the floor and I went reeling forwards.

Everything went black, and it took me a moment to realise my head was now wedged into the butter churner. I let out a shriek, placing my hands on the sides of the huge container and trying to free my head from it. It wouldn't budge!

"Help me! I'm stuck!" I called to Norway, my voice echoing inside the barrel.

Suddenly, I heard some very obnoxious laughter. It was Mr Denmark. Why is it when something embarrassing happens to me, everyone has to witness it?

"This looks like a job for your fearless leader!" he announced. "Norway, you grab him and pull on three!"

I felt Norway's arms wrap themselves around my waist. This was a very awkward position. I was bent over, with my butt in the air and now his junk was pressed right up against my ass as he tried to get a firm grip on me. I felt someone, probably Denmark, grab the churner and lift it off the ground horizontally.

"One, two, THREE!" I heard him say and, simultaneously, they began to pull in opposite directions. The pain around my ears was horrible. If Iceland complained that having his tight-necked shirt pulled off hurt again, I'd tell him it can't possibly be worse than this. All of a sudden, the pressure around my head disappeared and I saw light again as I went flying backwards with Norway, the two of us crashing into the wall behind us.

I looked over my shoulder at Norway to see him wincing in pain. I realised it was because I was crushing his 'crown jewels' and quickly shifted my hips, too shocked by the recent events to actually move off him completely. I looked over to Denmark on the other side of the room, lying on the floor with the butter churner still in his arms. He looked from Norway to me and burst out laughing. I started laughing too and the rhythmic shaking behind me told me Norway was shaking with silent laughter.

Eventually, Denmark got to his feet and walked over to us, offering his hand to Norway, who accepted it and was pulled to his feet. Denmark looked down at me, still on the floor, with a big grin and said, "You better get cleaned up before Norway eats ya!" Then he was gone.

What did he mean by that? Why would he eat me? I rubbed a hand through my hair, soon discovering that both my face and hair were covered in butter.

"Here let me help you clean it off," Norway offered, kneeling in front of me.

"Just don't lick it off me," I teased.

"That's not what I meant!" he huffed, shoving a soaking-wet cloth in my face in mild annoyance.

After I was clean, Norway picked up the butter churner, setting it upright and examining the contents.

"It looks ready to me," he said calmly, scooping some out and placing it in a small bowl. He then selected two of the baps I had bought and placed them on the metal grill that hung above the fire.

He would leave his baps on the grill just long enough for them to be warm, then he would dip them in butter and eat them like that. I briefly wondered if other Norwegians did that too or if it was just one of his quirks.

Just at that moment, Iceland entered the room, quickly seating himself on a chair beside Norway (a chair he had to practically climb onto because of his small size). Norway then tore his remaining bap in in two, handing one half to the younger one and pushing the bowl of butter towards him. The two 'brothers' ate together in a similar fashion and I decided to leave them in peace.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review!