Okay, so this was completely unintentional. It was a sudden idea and I had no intention of writing this until… well, I had a computer nearby. Oops. First time writing Sweden and first time writing stuff like this. Uhm, enjoy…?
It was a cold day. Small and frosty flakes that had once been clean and fresh water fell from the clouded sky and covered the ground, trees and houses in nature's own carpet of winter.
They fell slowly, calmly, they weren't busy.
Neither was the man who walked under them. His blond hair was filled with the cold snowflakes but he didn't seem to notice, let alone care. His steps were taken carefully, unhurried. They were precise and measured, like every single one of them was so very important.
Every time he exhaled, his breath was visible in the frosty air, fog escaping and creating a small cloud in front of the stern face that seemed as cold as the weather around him. He showed no expression on that face. It could as well have been carved from a stone with the colour of human skin.
He was tall, taller than many of the people passing by him and he got many surprised looks, and he was broad. Not fat, nor plump, but simply muscular, well-built. Behind a pair of glasses was a pair of icy, blue eyes that seemed to see through everything. It was those kinds of eyes that made you feel you were being X-rayed. More than that, though, they also looked trustworthy.
The man was clad in his uniform, a long and deep blue coat with a belt around the waist, a strap attached to it and going over his right shoulder. It had two large pockets by either hips. The coat had wide lapels and under them could a thick and black shirt be seen.
Black and tight gloves caressed his big hands and long fingers which were carefully curled around a long and brown paperbag. It emitted a nice lemony, very distinctive scent. His big and dark brown boots made the snow give squeaking sounds whenever he stepped down, his weight pressing the snow hard under his feet.
There was complete silence around him. People he walked past didn't say anything but had their heads bowed like they weren't used to the cold and the snow that embraced them. But he knew different. The snow was always here. No matter which season, there would be snow at this place. It was a thing he had come to learn by his countless stays.
They looked busy. Their steps were taken in haste. Phones were at their ears and they seemed to be talking into the device, but he didn't notice it. It was silent to him. He had one thing to think of and so, this was the only thing that occupied his mind.
It was a few days before Christmas Eve. Maybe people still needed to buy presents for their small children? Children who expectantly would be allowed to stay up until late because they would get presents and eat good food. There would be guests and other children to play with. Snow to roll around in, snow to throw at each other. Hidden behind giant cold forts they would gather snowballs and they would make tactics with their friends. Like small soldiers.
Or they would make snowmen. Some big, some small, some made with more care and being prettier than others. But that didn't matter to the children. They were together and they were having fun just because of each other's company.
Peter loved winter. He would always complain about how cold it was and how the snow melted in his boots and froze his feet but Sweden knew better. The small boy's cheeks were a healthy and deep red, blood rushing to the usually pale face and giving it a lively colour. His eyes twinkled and he was laughing loudly while he ran around, tripped over a hidden stone or a puddle of frozen water. Before he hit the ground, though, Sweden would have caught him around the waist and knelt down, inspecting his little boy to see if he was okay. Peter would wince and claim to be absolutely fine and after a long second where his eyes were locked with Sweden's piercing pair the bigger let him run off again.
There was no way for Berwald to describe how happy Peter made him. It was the little son he had never been able to have. To him, it didn't matter that Peter was adopted. He loved him like his own, biological son. He had had a family with Peter and with Tino. And of course their little dog, Hanatamago. She would bark at people she didn't know - and Denmark - but she was the sweetest thing to walk on four legs. Small and fluffy, white as the snow surrounding him now. Black and glistening eyes, with that curious look only a dog was able to have. The little, pink and rough tongue that licked his hands repeatedly when he sat down to play with her.
And then Tino, the man that represented the nation Finland. That man... Sweden wasn't good with words and he had never been good with emotions, either. For a long time, he had thought himself a cold and heartless beast.
For centuries, he had been burning and robbing, raping and killing without hesitation. Many parts of the world had come to know of his immense strength and his cold personality. During the Viking age, Sweden had been working together with Denmark and Norway and with each other's help, they gained power and they gained a fearsome reputation. They were feared all over the world. They had been to places as far away as Russia, America and Africa. They had been attacking without thinking a second thought and they had spread fear throughout the entire world.
No one could feel safe from the Vikings. No one knew where their next attack would be and how much chaos they would create. To them, it was a time filled with panic and angst where they had to keep everything and everyone close by.
But to him, to him and Denmark and Norway, it had been a glorious time. They were supreme rulers and they could do what they wanted, whenever they wanted and wherever they wanted. Nothing had been able to stop them. Or so they had thought. But the times changed and they suddenly found themselves in fights and wars with each other. Norway was given to Sweden while Denmark was bawling his eyes out. Denmark stabbed Sweden in the back by killing off nearly a hundred of his nobles when people started to rebel against the Kalmar Union. It resulted in the union dissolving completely when Sweden got Gustav Vasa as king.
His mind was elsewhere when he let a small gate swing open, the creaking sound echoing in the silence.
Since then, Sweden and Denmark had had a strained relationship and they had been fighting several wars against each other. They had more fights together than England and France. They had become arch-enemies and their fights would often be bloody and extremely dangerous. More times than he cared to admit, Sweden had woken in a white hospital bed with Finland by his side, holding his hand. He would always be sleeping, weary and anxious. Worry had been shining out of his pale face, the head lolled forward and the chin resting on his chest.
Sweden had lifted a broken and bandaged hand, pain not near strong enough to make his eyebrows as much as twitch, and he would gently stroke the blond bangs away from the cheeks, fingertips wrapped in grey gauze ever so softly brush over the warm skin. And, it was sure as the sun rising and sun setting every day, Finland would always wake up with a small twitch, his head snapping to the side. And even surer than the sun rising and setting, Finland would flash him a smile. A most precious smile that Sweden could never forget. It could brighten the darkest rooms, spread light where nothing else could penetrate the shadows. It was a smile full of innocence and purity.
He would then leave the chair he had been sitting in for days if necessary, and he would crawl into Sweden's bed and snuggle close to him while Sweden took a broken and horrendously twisted arm around the smaller man's waist, hold him close. And he would be happier than he could ever find words strong enough to express it.
Finland was what had made Sweden realize he still had a heart somewhere in his hard, broad and cold chest. Finland made Sweden's heart flutter and the small man could make Sweden's mind go blank if he just smiled. There was nothing purer and more innocent than little Tino. He never made a wrong move and he would always be so timid when close to the other. He was polite and did his best to never say a bad word about anyone. Though Denmark would always be testing that.
The feet stopped moving and he stood still once more, for a moment looking into the snow that was still slowly falling, flakes descending quicker than when he had left his house.
He then let his head fall forward a bit and his blue eyes fell on the familiar stone, a light duvet of snow covering it. He bent in his knees and squat down. The hand not holding the long and brown paperbag was taken to brush the snow off. He brushed away every little snowflake until it was completely clean. Only the new flakes fell and mocked Sweden's work.
Flowers were scattered around the place. Withered. Sweden instantly knew they were from Norway and Denmark. They both missed the happy Finn but none of them were good at remembering to bring new flowers. Only Sweden remembered that.
He lifted the hand and took off his glasses. They would always fog over when he did this. He had finally learned to bring a small case to put them in. He did this now, too, and let the case slip into one of his pockets, never taking his eyes off the inscription on the white marble stone.
"Hey, Tino," he then said, his voice deep and distinct masculine. It was a voice that had always intimidated little Finland, though it had become less over the years.
"How... how are you doing?" If anyone saw him like this, they would believe him to have changed completely. He wasn't cutting off vowels and he wasn't keeping quiet. Normally, he would never say anything and if he finally opened his mouth to state his opinion, it was done slowly and calmly.
This was another thing that Finland had managed to make Sweden feel better about.
"Is it as cold up there as down here? Snow is falling again. It's nice, though. I like it. You did so, too. Do you remember how we would always play with Peter in the snow?" Sweden was never really one to run around and throw with snow. He would just duck and take a few steps to the side to avoid getting the cold substance in the face. Peter would complain and Finland would laugh, that sound being enough to distract Sweden completely. As punishment for his lack of focus, Peter would throw a hard snowball directly at his face, setting the glasses askew.
But Berwald didn't mind. For it made Peter happy and when he was happy, Sweden was happy.
"We still do that. We occasionally invite Denny, Lukas and Emil over. Denny treats the kid like it's his own. He loves that kid. But you know that. Do you remember the time Denny made LEGOs especially for Peter so he could build his fort? I can still remember the light in Peter's eyes."
He had truly lightened up when he got the box with small plastic cubes and tubes, even small men so Peter could recreate his country. And Sweden also remembered that Denmark's fingers had been more battered than normally. He had had troubles with creating that set of LEGOs, the Dane later trusted Sweden and Finland with. He had said that it was hard to create such small things and that getting the correct colours into the plastic had proven more difficult than first anticipated.
'But,' he then said and looked over his shoulder, into the room where Peter was already busy playing and building, 'it was worth it. I love that kid, ya know.'
Sweden had looked at him with his usual stern expression, not letting a thing show in his face. On the inside, though, he had been cautious, even annoyed with the man. He was happy that Peter was happy but he didn't want Denmark to be the cause of it. Denmark wasn't good company for such a small kid.
Denmark drank way too much and he would always be boasting, laughing and talking too loud. Not to mention how his vocabulary wasn't fitting for a man his age, let alone a small kid like Peter. Sweden didn't want Denmark close to Peter, even if he could clearly see how happy they were for each other.
But Berwald pushed all these things aside. Because he knew how much Denmark meant to Peter, and how much Peter meant to Denmark. And the Dane would act like the nice and funny uncle everyone wished to have. For Peter's sake, Sweden forced himself to forget his deep hatred for his old friend.
The snow started to increase in harshness. Not that Sweden let it show he had even noticed. His face was as cold and unmoving as always, even if his eyes seemed to have gotten a different shine. There was something hidden in them that slowly rose to the surface of his blue and icy orbs. Something that made him look less cold, less like the cold rock so many believed him to be.
In reality, it wasn't hard to see how he and Germany was related. They shared about the same body figure and they both had short, blond hair and blue eyes. Their faces were equally blank and unmoving. Neither of them showed many emotions. The difference was that Sweden wore glasses and that Germany talked more than the other. Not that he spoke much. Unless there was something to yell at by the meetings, which always happened to be the case.
He brushed away the new snow, gloved fingertips brushing over his wife's name.
Tino VäinämöinenA beautiful name for a beautiful wife.
It had taken Sweden a relatively long time to pronounce the name correctly. He had been practicing every day whenever he saw the Finn. At first, Finland had been freaked out and hid in his room. Over time, though, he had understood that Sweden only wanted to pronounce the name perfectly, with Finnish accent and all.
And Finland couldn't deny that he had found it amusing and kind of sweet. As sweet as the big and expressionless man could be, of course. Finally, when the Swede succeeded and the name rolled over his lips, every syllable said perfectly, Finland had been smiling and chuckling, and he had even taken the Swede's hands and held them tightly. Like he knew how much this meant to him.
Sweden hadn't showed anything, his face still a rock with human features. But on the inside, his heart had beaten with silent pride and immense happiness as his eyes locked with the Finn's. Maybe they betrayed him. Maybe he had actually shown something, just without knowing. Finland hadn't been as frightened by his gaze as normally.
"I can still say your name perfectly," Sweden said and let the name spill from his mouth, tongue bringing forth every letter and syllable like he had never said anything else his entire life. He could still feel how content and glad it made him.
He was silent for a minute where he just stared at the marble. It was slightly blurred due to his missing glasses but he didn't need his vision to know what the italic and slightly tortuous letters said. After all, he had been the one to instruct the monumental mason. It had been painful for the Swede. To come to terms with the fact that Finland was no more and that Tino was gone as well.
Sweden hadn't wanted to believe it. He still didn't but after a century, he could no longer pretend.
Denmark had brought him the news. He had looked absolutely terrible - not that this was anything new - and even his hair had lost the usual gloss. It looked dead and was hanging flatly down his face. His normally shining and twinkling royal-blue eyes were underlined by heavy, dark bags and his feet had been dragging across the floor. Voice shaking, both from shock and fear. Sweden had barely bothered to ask what was wrong before Denmark said the words that made Sweden freeze more than Siberia in the winter.
'Finland is no longer a country. Tino is dead, Berwald.'
And Denmark never called Sweden by his human name unless he was absolutely serious. But Sweden had believed it was a lie. He couldn't believe it. And Sweden had punched Denmark directly in the jaw for speaking such a painful lie. Yet, deep down, he felt his chest tighten and the heart skip a beat before setting a pace that was twice as fast as usual. Denmark got another punch, just for good measure, and another. Sweden rarely lost himself, hadn't really, truly done it since the Viking age, but this...
Denmark just accepted the punches and didn't do anything to hinder it. He let the man's fists connect with his face, fully knowing the pain Sweden tried to deny. Sweden didn't want to believe an old friend and a former ally, now his arch-enemy, especially not in this case. Not when it involved his dear, precious Tino.
"Tino..." His brows furrowed lightly, actually making his face take an expression which was so unusual for him. People would call it a sad one but on Sweden, it just looked like he grimaced.
"I lost it. I beat up Denny when he told me you were dead. I couldn't believe it, I didn't want to trust him. He knew that and he knew I would beat him until he lost consciousness or I got tired. Neither happened. Do you know that?"
Do you know how my knees buckled and gave in, made me fall to the floor with Denmark standing above me, looking down? How his face was bloody, both of his eyes black and cheeks already starting to swell?
"Did you see my face? I... cried, didn't I? I couldn't believe it but his devastated expression and his words... I still remember them to this day, Tino. He said he was sorry. He apologized to me. For what I don't know. He... He then sat down beside me. He embraced me. I can... still feel his shaking arms around my body. I didn't want him there. I only wanted you. I only ever wanted you. Since the first time I saw you, you were everything I could think of."
Your bright and honest, innocent smile. That special way your lips curled when you did that. You got the slightest hint of a dimple in the right side. Your big and round eyes, shining with happiness all the time. Your skin was always soft, always warm. That's because of your saunas, am I right?
"Did you ever wonder why I didn't do anything to you? The others certainly did. Denmark was sure we did 'it' secretly. He ran bets with Prussia about who topped, did you know that? That was of course only until Germany found it. Then it stopped. But rumours still whirred around."
Especially between Hungary and Japan. Sweden noticed how they would steal a glance at the two whenever there was less than a meter between them.
"But it was because I love you so much." To most, that wouldn't be a reason to keep away. That would more likely be a reason to get closer and make the other love you. But not to Sweden.
Sweden knew that Finland wasn't comfortable with 'that kind of stuff' and so, the Swede didn't do anything. He would never, ever force Finland to do things he didn't feel good about. Tino was the purest, most angelic person he had ever known and would ever know.
Berwald was content with Finland's friendship and though he wouldn't mind if it developed into something more, he wouldn't ask for it. Finland was with him and that was all he could ever wish for.
"You made me feel comfortable." He reached into the paperbag and withdrew a long and pretty flower he put on the snow before the tombstone, brushing away the other, withered ones. It was a beautiful, blue flower with five petals and a long stem.
"I felt good around you, Tino. You accepted me though you were scared of me at first. I know you were. But it got better. Time brought us closer and we nearly had conversations, even with my lack of words. This, though, you also changed. You made me open up and made me talk where I would normally be silent."
"You always calmed me down when I got too riled-up over Denmark. Your kind and forgiving nature had me calm again in short time. You didn't treat me like a cold and heartless man like so many else did. You never loved me like I love you but that is not important. You stayed with me even if you found me scary."
His frown got deeper and the shine in his eyes grew stronger. A hand was placed on the side of the stone, gripping it lightly to try and hide a slight shivering that had gotten into his body.
"You always tried to break the silence I created. I was never good with words and I always left us in silence. You were good at breaking that barrier and you managed to make me crack a smile. That's impressive. Even now, Tino, I'm smiling." And he was. He was frowning, still, but he could also feel the corners of his lips twitch in something other's would call a pained grimace. To Sweden, it was the closest he got to a smile while being alone.
"You always trusted me to make the right decisions. You trusted me to take care of you. Do you remember the time we got lost in one of my forests in the winter? It was a pretty harsh one. You were shivering and trembling. You were freezing so much but you didn't want to say anything. You didn't want me to give up my coat for your sake. And you even started to argue with me when I put it around us. It was big enough for you to sit in my lap and I could still close it around us. Do you remember that, Tino? You smiled at that time. I..."
He closed his eyes and sat down on his knees, a hand still gripping around the marble. His shivering had gotten worse but he would never admit that.
"You leant into me. You even let me hold you tightly to me so you could get warm again. You fell asleep like that, Tino. Do you know how happy I was? Could you feel my heart race that night? Did you feel the muscle beat like never before? I was so happy. I slept well that night."
Lids fell back and revealed his blue orbs once more.
"Peter was worried sick, though. He was so worried when both of us were missing."
And after that, they had decided they wouldn't do such a thing again. Not unless they were all together.
They had felt like a happy family. Finland as his happy and beautiful wife, Peter as his cheerful and noisy son that he loved so much. They had even gotten the little dog. They had been happy together.
How long had they been living like that? Centuries? Half a millennium? Not long enough. But at the same time, Sweden had been happier than ever. He finally had the family he had always dreamt of and hoped to get.
He would never ask for anything more than he had already had at the time.
"Peter... Peter still misses you. I sometimes wake up because he's crying. He wants you back, Tino. He doesn't understand why you're gone. He often asks me when his mama will get back. He asks me why mama left. Did papa make mama unhappy? I don't know what to answer, Tino. I have said that you're gone, I've presented him to the truth but I don't think he can accept it."
His knuckles turned white under the glove as his grip tightened and his chest tightened, heart picking up a faster pace. His eyes were stinging.
"I... I miss you, too, Tino. I love you, still, but I don't... I don't know how to deal with your disappearance. You were the one to keep me calm, you made me realize that I wasn't a cold and cruel, heartless beast. You were like a light spreading the darkness."
His head fell forward and his body jerked slightly. "I... I was... never good with words. But... thank you for changing that. I don't talk much around others, though. That was... something I only showed you."
In fear of breaking the stone, he let his hand fall onto the ground where it clenched into a fist, gripping the cold snow and brushing stiff and dead grass under the cold duvet. The other hand was still holding the brown paperbag, now put it down, a corner sliding down and revealing two other flowers.
"Tino Väinämöinen, jag älskar dig."
Plip"I always did, I always will."
Plip"I brought you a present."
A shaking hand unwrapped the remaining flowers and his fingers carefully grabbed the stems and put them beside the first one.
"Linnea Borealis," he mumbled and took off one of his gloves, tucked it into a pocket. Cold air hit against his skin but he didn't notice it. "The closest I get to having a national flower. You always wanted to see them in the summer. I had a field in the north filled with them, you remember that? Did you know I got that planted just for you, because you said you loved them?"
The other glove was pulled of, tucked into the same pocket as the first. Both hands were exposed to the cold but as water froze on his cheeks he could only care about placing the last flower perfectly beside the other.
"Convallaria majalis," he whispered, voice shaking and he adjusted the middle flower a bit. "Your national flower. It's beautiful, just like you. It fits you. Except that you're not poisonous."
Sweden looked through a blurry vision on the stone and the flowers. His flower, the Geranium, then Finland's flower. He stretched his long and strong arms, placed them on either side of the grave, in the deep snow, and leaned forward. His lips were quivering when he softly, ever so softly pressed them against the cold marble, the silky skin brushing the name carved into the stone.
He then pulled back, the slightest hint of a blush creeping over his cheeks. He had never kissed Finland when he was alive, had never dared get that close and risk making the small man uncomfortable. Finland was so chaste, Sweden didn't want to ruin that.
His fingers found the paperbag and carefully folded it before putting it into the pocket with the case for his glasses. Sweden found that and opened it, pushing his glasses aside and the tips of his fingers brushed over something cold and metallic. It was carefully pulled out and it revealed to be a chain with a cross fastened to it.
With slow and trembling hands he let the chain slide over the stone until it couldn't go any further.
He would come back in a few days and take it again. He had done that for a hundred years and he had no intention to stop.
"Merry christmas, Finland. Merry christmas, Tino."
Okay, so this ends my first SuFin-fanfic ever. Honestly, I had never thought I would write one. Oh well. I am aware I made Sweden talk a hell of a lot more than he would probably ever do but… yeah. Hope you enjoyed! Also, I have checked for mistakes and stuff but there are probably still some I haven't noticed. It's five in the morning, ugh.
The flower Sweden places the first is a 'Geranium'. It is said to have several meanings but many sites agree with 'comfort' and 'peace of mind', so I'm going with that. The other two are Finland's national flower and since Sweden apparently doesn't have such, I took one that is 'popular' as the national flower.Jag älskar dig = I love you (Swedish) (Yeah, really cliché, sorry 'bout that)