Ch. 1
The story Sweden read to Sealand and Ladonia before they went to bed was pulled from a book of fairy tales, beginning with the words "Once upon a time" and ending with "and they lived happily ever after." By the time the last words left Sweden's lips, the micronations were barely conscious enough to recognize that Finland had also strolled into the room and kissed them goodnight.
"Thank you for reading them to sleep, honey," Finland leaned his head on Sweden's chest in a sort of hug. He smelled like dust and age; he had been taking their winter clothing down from the attic.
"No problem," whispered Sweden, giving his sleepy sons a kiss before leading Finland out of the room. The attic trapdoor was still open, the ladder still down, and piles of boxes scattered across the hallway floor. "Got everythin' down all right?"
Finland nodded. "I found something I wanted to show you, too," he held up a medium-sized box, browned and brittled with age and sealed shut with a rusted iron lock. Sweden furrowed his brow. The box looked a little too similar to something private he owned and happened to be storing in the attic as well and he couldn't help but worry. "I just need something to drink first, though," Finland laughed nervously, noticing Sweden's stare, "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit."
"Mm. I'll close the attic up for ya," offered Sweden, brushing dust out of Finland's hair before kissing his forehead.
Finland leaned into the touch. "Sweden, you're an angel," he cooed adoringly, eyelids lowered, voice tinged with love and a little sadness.
"Nnh. You are," replied Sweden.
Finland laughed. "If this gets any more sappy, I'll have a hard time pulling myself off of you," he laughed, "like syrup. Close the attic and I'll get the fire going."
"Mmkay." Sweden watched Finland tiptoe down the stairs before climbing into the attic and pulling the cord that lit up the single bulb dangling from the ceiling. Seeing Finland's box brought back memories; he had the sinking feeling that Finland had accidentally found one of his most personal belongings. His worries were unfounded, though, as he found his own antique box precisely where he'd left it years before.
This thing hasn't been touched since around 1950, he noted, blowing off the thick layer of dust that had settled on the box. The lock had rusted so much that a single touch sent it crumbling to the floor, and Sweden was able to flip the lid open.
Letters. His box contained letters dated from 1809 to about 1950. They smelled like old paper and ink.
Most notably, they were all addressed to Finland.
A century's worth of unspoken words, Sweden thought, smiling sadly, those were some hard times.
But the 1800's had long passed. He was sure that his own wounds had healed. Knowing Finland, his should have done the same.
Sweden closed the box and tucked it under his arm. Why not, he reasoned, it's about time I showed him these anyway. They're for him, after all.
He turned off the light, closed the attic, and made his way downstairs.
XxX
Finland sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, letting the crackle of the flames soothe the adrenaline flowing through his veins. His box, the one possession of his he never shared with Sweden, sat in front of him unopened. He'd come across the box hidden underneath their Christmas tree, and upon remembering what it contained, he almost wanted to hurl it out of the window.
His better judgement had prevented that.
I wonder why I saved all of these? Finland mused as he broke the lock and lifted the lid. Letters. For Sweden. From Back Then… He couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through him at the thought. The decision to share them with Sweden was realized with a little bit of reluctance, as these letters described him at his ugliest. There was easily a century of unspoken turmoil contained in these documents, and Sweden deserved to know, because it was their history.
We have a family now, he thought, I can't hide these anymore; every feeling I've had towards him during the 19th century, positive or negative, is written in these letters, and he needs to know if we want to call our recovery a "happy ending."
Sweden's sudden arrival startled Finland out of his musings. In his arms, he carried his own box, nearly identical to Finland's own. "Hello, love," Finland greeted, patting the space next to him. "Have a seat."
Sweden placed his box down. "Old letters?" he asked, his suspicions confirmed.
Finland poured two glasses of wine, one for each of them. "Old, unsent letters from the 1800s. Written by yours truly," he added with a wry smile.
Sweden's heart leapt into his throat. "Coincidence," he replied nervously, "Got a box of old, unsent letters from th' 1800s here too. Also written by yers truly." He felt his pulse quicken at the way Finland's violet eyes widened.
"Well," Finland answered, mystified, "I'm glad I'm not the only one." He pulled the first letter out of his box. "I might as well give them to you now. Better late than never, y'know."
"Read them to me," Sweden said softly, lips pressed against the rim of his wine glass, "wanna hear 'em in yer voice."
Finland peered up at Sweden through lowered lashes. "Only if you read me yours," he answered, all traces of his humorous nature suppressed.
"Deal."
And with that, Finland began to read.
XxX
January, 1810
Dear Sweden,
First of all, happy New Year.
Secondly, how could you have left me like that, Sweden? You turned a blind eye to my tears and my love. What am I to you, Sweden? After nearly seven centuries together, am I no more to you than an object to be discarded at will? I trusted you with my love, Sweden. You are incorrigible.
To anyone who asks, I claim to hate you. I find your actions deplorable, you monster of a man.
However, I cannot stop thinking back to the happy days we spent together. The wars we won, fighting side-by-side and he peace we shared at the lake by your home all ended the same way, with your arms curled around me as we drifted off to sleep. I miss those wars. I miss the peace between them. I miss the warmth of your body surrounding me during those cold winter nights. And as I miss them, they develop a bitter taste within my mind. I want to reject them from where they are lodged in my brain and my heart. I am filled with both hatred and love for you, Sweden. O God help me, for I am fickle and weak!
Even as I pray to God, I think of you, for you are the one who introduced me to Christianity during the Crusades all those years ago. We were not much older than children, mere babes clinging to the handles of swords, and yet we were still together.
Why did I let you into my country all those centuries ago? I should have trusted my childish instincts of fear and barred you from ever entering my lands. Even then, I knew you would destroy me. What I did not know was that it would be from the inside out.
All my love and then some,
-Finland
XxX
The last words of Finland's letter were smothered by his own choked sobs. I thought I was ready for this, he sniffled, I guess not.
He had done such a thorough job of transcribing the pain weighing him down that it still affected him 200 years later. Even Sweden seemed affected, trying to rationalize his wife's pain with the fact that it was all in the past. Looking up at Sweden, Finland bit his lip and awaited a response.
"'M sorry," Sweden breathed, a mixture of shame, awe and alcohol coloring his face, "This how y' really felt?"
"It's the truth," sighed Finland, "you hurt me, Sve…"
Sweden glowered.
"...But I still loved you. Although all that did was make it hurt even more," Finland let the letter flutter to the floor, gazing into his wine glass.
"Loved ya too, Fin. Wrote letter after letter t' ya, but I never sent any 'cause I was a big coward. Here, listen." Sweden picked up his own letter and began to read.
XxX
September 1811
My dear Finland,
It has been two years, my love, and I have neither heard from you nor have I been able to dislodge you from neither my heart nor my thoughts.
You are absent, yet your presence survives within the confines of my home. I see you in front of the fireplace, the flames flickering in the violet eyes that I love so much. You smile as it warms the sadness from your heart, and I long to kiss the upward curve of those lips.
I see you in the yard, gathering herbs and chopping wood, refusing my help with a determined grin. (I only wish you would let me take some of the load off of your back, dearest.)
I see you in the kitchen preparing the deer you had so swiftly killed mere hours before. Most strikingly, I see you in our former bed, sleeping soundly or moaning loudly beneath me, gazing at me with an expression that can only be described as "pure love."
I imagine you showing that expression to Russia and it kills me from the inside. Have you been showing them to him, Finland? Have you let him into your heart like you've let me in?
I deeply regret leaving you to him. I want to sneak in under cover of the night and steal you back. It is merely a selfish whim, but I want to be able to kiss your feet and atone for my sins.
All I can hope is that he treats you well, and that we will be able to be together once again in the future, so I can treat you much better.
Yours truly,
-Sweden
XxX
"You thought I was having sex with Russia that soon?" Finland raised an eyebrow, "I don't move that fast, y'know."
Sweden simply looked into the fire. "Insecurities," he said, his voice heavy. Finland simply nodded and took another swig of wine. He knew exactly what Sweden meant. "Why didn't y' write t' me?" asked Sweden, eyes now fixed on Finland, waiting for an answer.
"Russia intercepted my letters without me knowing," answered Finland, "I thought they were being sent and that you were the one who never replied. I found them right before I declared independence and hid them away in the attic when we moved in together."
"Doesn't sound like a very good boyfriend," Sweden jibed quietly.
Finland shook his head. "It was bound to be a complicated relationship from the start," he said, exasperation coloring his voice, "it couldn't have lasted."
"That's what y' said 'bout ours," a small smile graced Sweden's lips, "but look where we are."
This time, Finland laughed, a sound as warm as the crackling fire. "We're different, Sve," he leaned over and brushed his lips against Sweden's cheek, "we're way different."
AN: This fic was written for Surströmmiaki Fest on Dreamwidth because I can't resist anything SuFin. ;) It's 5 chapters long, and I'll be posting them all up at the same time once the fic goes up on Dreamwidth.
My "historical research" comes from Wikipedia boohoo ;_; Sorry if there are any weird inaccuracies!