This story takes place near the end of the Winter War (1939-1940), a conflict between the USSR and Finland. It was one-sided in the extreme in terms of men and equipment (in favour of the Soviet Union), but Finns held out from December to the middle of March. They did extremely well when one takes into consideration the poor amount and quality of their equipment and their enemy. Also, no other country helped them—at least not officially. The Scandinavian countries in particular had many volunteers fight in the Winter War and quite a few countries donated supplies (although many of those came too late).*

Towards the end of the war, the UK and France made plans for intervention, but could not get their soldiers into Finland without going through Swedish territory.* The Swedish government refused to allow them to do so. On March 11th of 1940, the Finns made a final plea to Sweden and Norway to allow the Allied nations through their countries. Both nations still refused, and Finland ended up signing the Moscow Peace Treaty on March 13, 1940.

March 11, 1940

"Tino?"

It was a question, not a statement because Berwald couldn't—no, he refused— to believe that that gaunt, exhausted man in front of him was his Tino.

A shaky, almost painful smile crept across the Finn's features in response, then disappeared in the blink of an eye. But the smile fit. Because his Tino didn't have purple shading the edges of skin around his lovely violet-blue eyes. His Tino's arms and legs didn't shake with fatigue. His Tino had held his head high, eyes blazing with determination and defiance. And if this Tino had smiled in that exuberant, almost childishly happy way that his Tino did, he would have ripped Berwald's heart to shreds much more thoroughly and quickly than any Soviet or German invasion* could have.

The Finn's eyes met his own for only a second as Tino responded quietly, "Moi, Berwald." Berwald felt frozen as he looked at them, remembering. Those eyes that had for such a long time held such an enormous amount of fear, of love, of hate, of emotion now held nothing but an infinite indifference to the world. Tino continued stared at his general direction, unspeaking, likely lost in the maze the war had created in his mind. Berwald bit his lip. He had never been good with small talk. It had always been Tino who had carried along the conversation, but now...

Memories flooded back to him. Memories of days and nights when despite the lack of an electric stove or even a fireplace sometimes, Berwald's heart had been warm enough to keep him from freezing. All of them, all of those precious moments were bathed in a buttery light as he heard that voice that he had not heard outside of his memory for so many years happily calling, "Su-san!"

He blinked rapidly, pushing himself back into the present. He knew from experience that his face gave almost nothing away, though right now, he wished it would. Berwald cleared his throat. "Why don't you...sit?" he suggested, trying to keep his voice at a normal tone. Though unsure of what this particular meeting was about, he knew that it would not involve something particularly good. Especially not when Tino was like...this.

"Tino?" he asked gently.

The Finn was staring at him, but he still seemed lost, eyes glaze, still seeing the battlefield, still hearing the dying screams and flying bullets, and feeling everything that he should have never felt because Tino had never deserved this. You are a failure. The stab of self-hatred didn't even hurt; the hurt from seeing Tino broken like this overshadowed everything. Suddenly, the Finn's eyes focused, and he gave Berwald an almost insulted look. Then the expression returned to its neutrality. But neutrality, Berwald thought bitterly, was a joke.

"I need help, Berwald. That's all I'm here for."

The voice seemed to come from far away. It was flat, so flat that Berwald felt he could have walked across it without a problem. It was a voice that screamed defeat and unacknowledged hopelessness. And though it was Tino's inevitable defeat and Berwald should not have felt any empathy for the man who had ceased to be his charge long ago,* the tone smacked him in the chest.

Tino never spoke like that. Especially not to Berwald. Berwald swallowed, no longer looking at Tino in the eye.

So this is what it had come down to. This was how desperate the Finns were: they would dare pit Tino—Tino!—against him.

But torture would not work.

If I had a say in this, he wanted to scream, don't you think I would have come down to the Isthmus and beat the crap out of Ivan for even daring to declare war on you!* But he needed to keep calm, needed to comfort Tino, needed Tino to understand that he really did care for him even if he had no way of proving that connection. He realised then that his hands were trembling.

"Tino." This time his voice was soft, a tone that he had never believed he could have mustered. "I... you know I can't do that."

Stay here. Stay here, where the snow is white and untouched by gunpowder and blood and screams, where children to do not fear the planes flying overhead. Stay. Please. Stay with me. Let me hold you again. His desperate thoughts resonated in his mind as silence filled the room. He hadn't noticed before, but the room was slowly darkening as the sun set. He felt a sudden sadness because light reminded him...

Sometimes, when he was angry or just needed some silence, he would retreat into the sunroom of his home. Always waiting was that knife Tino had given him so long ago-my promise of love and fidelity. He would work on a piece of wood for days, making the smallest of changes, pushing the knife just a bit further in, feeling the wood beneath his finger and rubbing it quickly to make it smooth and soft like skin. It would be a beautiful piece, dark brown or maybe a light almost yellow colour, perfect in every way. As the room darkened and he began to put away his tools, he would begin to think about the delight on the face of the child that he gave it to. But sometimes, when the darkness came closer, he would be ready to make the final cut; and he would push too far, cut too much, make one small mistake that could never be corrected, and his muse would be ruined. forever.

"I know." Tino's voice interrupted his thoughts. Berwald looked him in the eyes again, frightened now. Because his and Tino's relationship was like that wood. Cut and moulded, always trying to reach perfection-and this could be the final cut. Tino's eyes were pleading. "But we...we're so close... Arthur and Francis... they promised to help, but they can't do it without you.* Please, Berwald, please..."

The last chance. Perfection or failure. "Tino—" Curse his fucking government. Curse his status as a nation. If Tino declares peace, then there is no way that the Soviet Union can hurt Sweden,* Berwald, they had told him for the fourth time this morning. We know you love him, Berwald, but don't let feelings get in the way of rational thinking. You are Sweden, and you must do what's best for Sweden.

You must do what's best for Sweden.

"I—I can't."

Tino looked at him for a long time. They stood only about three feet apart, staring into each others' eyes, knowing that there should be a completely different context in this scene. The silence stretched for a minute. Then two. Then five. Then Tino bowed his head. "I, I know." His body began to tremble as his shoulders hiccuped. "I know, Berwald. I knew from the start, and I don't mean that in a bad way. It wouldn't matter if you did. I don't know why I was sent here. Arthur and Francis already told me that their governments don't really care about helping me." He fell silent again, then a bitter chuckle escaped his lips. "My only crime was existing... Funny, isn't it? How by simply being there I got caught in all this mess. I don't even have the honour of being a pawn; I'm just a square that more important pieces need to cross." At this, he looked up at the Swede. The tear tracks only made the grime on his face more evident. "But I guess I should have known." He had not reached up to dry his tears. Another silence filled the room.

Berwald's hands were still trembling.

Tino opened his mouth for half a second, then closed it again. He seemed to be contemplating something. After another long pause, he said, more softly, "I...I would like an answer, though. N-not to my first question...that one's well, out of the question. But..." he trailed off.

"Anything," Berwald whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Did you... do you really still care about me?"

Berwald smiled slightly, and Tino cocked his head to left ever so slightly in response. Berwald stepped forward and opened his arms. Tino's lips twisted into a smile as he dove into Berwald's chest. He hugged him tightly, and Berwald whispered into his ear,

"I'm Konungariket Sverige, Tino. I, hopefully, always will be. But were I just Berwald, I would join you in a heartbeat." He broke the embrace then unclasped something from back of his neck, lifting a thin, silver chain over his head. He clasped the necklace his hand, then held it out so Tino could see the charm. A small silver cross. He took Tino's hand, and pressed the cross into it, feeling warm again as Tino's eyes widened in recognition. "You are a Nordic country, Suomi. Don't let anyone tell you differently, and don't you dare let that bastard make you any different. You are the West, and if there were ever anything you had to do to prove that, you have done it with this war. Your crime was not existing. Your crime was willing to stand up for the ideals that you and I and many others on this continent have held for centuries. Your crime was standing up for democracy and freedom, and though that may have led to—" he looked down at Tino's scarred face and swallowed with rage—"to this, I believe that you are the bravest of all of us. As such, you and your nation deserve the right to live and be free and fly a flag with this cross on it: because you have proven to be one of the best countries in the world. I am proud of you, and I love you all the more for what you've done; and though I can't always prove it, I am always with you."

Tino looked at him, violet orbs filled with love again. He hugged Berwald tightly for less than a second, then backed away.

"You'll tell them we fought bravely?" Tino asked, the determination having returned to his eyes.

Berwald nodded once. "Always."

"Adjö, Su-san."

"Moi moi, kultaseni."

Swedish:

Konungariket Sverige - Kingdom of Sweden (Sweden does have royalty, even today)

Adjö - goodbye

Finnish:

Suomi - Finland

Moi moi - goodbye (but moi means "hello")

kultaseni - sweetheart, dear, (insert a loving pet name)

Historical Notes:

Things to note: During this time (and all throughout World War II), Sweden supplied Germany with iron ore, and, consequently, was able to remain neutral and unoccupied. To their credit, many nations did help finland unofficially: lots of clothes, supplies, money, etc were donated and thousands of men volunteered. Most notably: 8,760 Swedes, 1,000 Danes, and nearly 1,000 Norwegians (and also people from Hungary, Italy, and Estonia) In total, Finland received about 12,000 volunteers.

* One of the reasons that Swedish government said that they didn't want to intervene was because they did not want Germany to react badly. According to what I have read, this was bullshit. Hitler didn't care too much about Scandinavia. If anything, he saw intervention in Finland as an opportunity to move the war to Northern Europe; a move which I'm sure those who lived through WWI would have supported. In terms of Soviet invasion... read the last note.

* From the 13th century to the 19th century, Finland was a part of the Swedish empire. In 1809, Sweden lost it to Russia, so it has been a little over a hundred years since Sweden last had Finland under his roof. Fun fact: Finland (or, more correctly, I suppose the "Republic of Finland"/Suomen Tasavalta) has been around for less than a hundred years; it became independent in 1917.

* Many people were pretty mad at the Soviet Union and saw the Winter War as the USSR throwing its weight around. Even though plenty of government officials agreed with their people, no one wanted to officially intervene. The Allied countries saw the USSR as an ally against Germany, so they did not want to risk damaging ties by helping Finland. Germany was still on good terms with the Soviet Union, so it didn't want to risk damaging ties either.

* As stated at the beginning of this fic, France and the UK began coming up with intervention plans towards the end of the war. However, their reasons were far from helping Finland. Their actual plan was more along the lines of occupying Swedish iron ore mines, and then possibly sending a few soldiers to help the Finns. The catch was that the Finns would have to officially ask for help and hold out for another month or so before French and British troops really started coming in. The Finns were wary of the French and the Brits, and, luckily, did not ask for "help".

* The reason Berwald mentions Soviet invasion "rupturing his heart" has to do with the actual reason the Swedish government refused to grant the Allies passage and/or allow Swedish troops to help Finland. Though they never said it outright, the Swedish government wanted Finland to declare peace because if they did, Finland would still exist and there would still be a land barrier between Sweden and the USSR.