Warning: Smut, slightly religious moments (such as mentions of God, Heaven, etc.), character death
This is just a short SuFin fic requested by my friend Jasmine a freaking long time ago. Hope you all enjoy!
XXX
This story takes place in 1814 during the Swedish-Norwegian War (also known as Campaign against Norway). As a result, Norway ended up entering the Swedish union, but with their own constitution and Parliament. The victory was claimed by Sweden.
In which newlyweds Berwald and Tino are separated by war.
XXX
The Heart's Sonata
The summer of 1814 was when Berwald and I were finally wed.
For that time of year, it was awfully cold- the snow that had settled on the mossy ground still hadn't completely melted from winter time. The outside air was always crisp and damp throughout the summer's gray mornings, which I have to admit... I liked quite a bit. Gloomy weather always appealed to me, no matter how cold it was or how many inches of rain the sky poured down on our town. Every now and then, however, the sun trudged its way past the dark clouds and the June gloom allowed for it to shine its warming rays down on the Earth for a few hours, only to be pushed out of the way once again by the thick fog. As I watched this ongoing game - the sun desperately trying to be noticed but the bitter cold shoving it away, I hadn't even noticed Berwald sneaking up behind me.
"Tino?" came his subtle voice from nowhere, scaring me unintentionally as I hopped from my seat as frisky as a feline: alert, on edge. I let out a relieved sigh as I turned to see it was my husband, holding a hand to my heart as I felt it pounding nervously against my ribcage through the walls of my chest. Thump, thump...thunp,thump..."My God...you're going to scare me half to death one day, I swear..." I huffed in half annoyance, half consolation as I finally began to ease down a bit. Berwald was always good at that, even though he never tried to do so on purpose. " 'M sorry...just needed to talk," he continued in his usual, dull tone. I stared curiously into his snowy eyes hidden behind his spectacles once my heart beat returned to its normal pace. By the looks of things outside, the sun seemed to be winning the battle against the fog as puddles of light flooded into our small kitchenette, reflecting a golden glow on the silver band slipped around my ring finger. It was beautiful to look at, and I loved it. I looked down to see Berwald's finger giving off the same brilliance and smiled to myself. Perfect... I thought, feeling a rush of warmth fill me as Berwald kept his emotionless mask, something I was used to by now. He parted his lips to speak, but the words that came out weren't close to what I was expecting. Nor was it, well...any good at all. I had expected to hear a "Let's go out together" or "We should adopt", which was a subject he had been oddly insisting on lately. Even a simple "I love you, Tino" would do, but instead, I heard,
" 'M being drafted..."
Thump, thump...
.0oOo0.
A few days ago, word came out that Sweden and Norway would begin a war over a mysterious reason. I never really was the person who worried myself sick over rumors like these, even if it was about such a serious matter. After moving away from my home in Savonlinna to live with Berwald in a small town called Lindersvik, I doubted most bad news that came our way. Lindersvik was tiny and innocent place to live, it was the kind of town where you would expect to see a family of four: a mother, father, brother and sister, all living together in a warm home. A warm, perfect home with no war and that was that. In other words, nothing could go wrong here, bad luck was practically unheard of. So when I heard those words being spoken through Berwald's lips, my newlywed himself, I could literally hear the shatter of my world falling to pieces.
"Drafted? You mean you're being taken to...?" I found myself unable to finish that sentence as I barely managed to choke out those first few words, finding it increasingly difficult to mutter anything at that point. My heart returned to its previous accelerated thumps, feeling my Adam's apple swell in my throat which prevented me from getting in a good breath without struggling. Thump, thump... It was then that the circles of light splattered on the kitchen floor slowly began to vanish, a sign that the clouds decided the sun's time of shining was up and it was their turn to take control of the sky. So dark and colorless...it set the mood terribly well, it was cruel, almost. I noticed Berwald pursing his lips together tightly into a frown, nodding once to prove his point.
" 'T's not my decision, I got a letter," he said, tone unchanged. Just then, I noticed a slip of paper tucked between his fingers, which I only assumed was the letter Berwald was referring to. Without even asking, I tore the paper from his grasp and unfolded it. Of course it was in Swedish, so I used my little knowledge of the language to translate what I could of the message. Ordered...induction into the Armed Forces...report to...draft board...it was all so horrible to read. The most painful part to look at, though, was seeing the letter directly addressed to a Berwald Oxenstierna, which destroyed the hope I had that the letter was merely sent to the wrong home, that it was just misaddressed and we would have a good laugh about how silly we reacted afterwards. But no, seeing Berwald Oxenstierna written on this letter abolished those thoughts, and for the first time ever since we first met, I dreaded the sight of my own husband's name. "Berwald, I-"
Before I could even complete my sentence, my shivering body was engulfed into a two-armed hug. I hadn't even noticed I was crying until I felt myself racking with sobs and a shaky breath make its way past my lips. My eyes glazed over with unshed tears, my nose stung terribly as they slid down my rounded cheeks, past my quivering lips and onto Berwald's forearm. A broken sob made its way up my throat, burning the entire way until it reached my mouth and I let it out- such an ugly noise I made. As I cried, I felt Berwald's firm hands give gentle, loving strokes on my back in contrast to their physical appearance. It was then that I realized that the tears falling onto Berwald's arms weren't just my own, but his as well. I looked up with tears still pooling in my eyes, overflowing. I noticed his own baby blues pouring tears down his face, past his glasses and onto his sweater. I could tell he was trying to keep a straight face, but the way his expression looked so deformed, so sad at the moment completely ruined it all.
I had never seen Berwald cry before, and I hoped that I would never have to. Just seeing the scene unfold before be now was absolutely horrible, almost unheard of. "Tino...'m sorry, but I have to go…" he finally spoke up, his voice trembling slightly as the tears continued to fall.
I tried to speak up as well, but I simply couldn't bring myself to do so. How could I possibly respond to that? How could I respond to the horrendous reality that my newlywed husband was leaving me to go into war? Just as I moved my mouth in an attempt to speak, I felt Berwald's lips press against mine so suddenly. Lifting my shaking arms to wrap around my husband's neck, we shared perhaps one of the last kisses we would ever have. Never before in my life had I shared a kiss behind so much awful emotion.
Thump, thump...
We spent the evening tangled within the bed sheets, enveloped within our own sweat, love and scents. We kissed perhaps a million times, bodies racking with nerves and lust. I wished it would last forever, but all great things must come to an end.
.0oOo0.
The next morning I awoke to no one resting beside me, a loneliness that was the most painful to cope with. My eyes fluttered closed again, wishing that I could fall back asleep and wake up to a different reality, but alas, Berwald never appeared. The sun was high in the sky by the time I finally forced myself out of bed - I guessed it was noon. There was an ache in my lower back which was another reminder of the events that took place the previous night, my last evening spent with my husband. Wrapping Berwald's robe around my body and inhaling the thick scent of him that remained stitched into the cloth, I looked around at my surroundings with a frown. The house felt so quiet, so lonely, so dead without the two of us inhabiting it. I had always expected to awake the morning following our first love making with the sun's rays greeting us, cuddles, and endless love that seemed infinite. Instead I was lonesome. I knew he had gone, he had even left a letter folded neatly upon his pillow. I didn't dare to open it, instead I wept helplessly as I realized I had been left all alone. There was a gapping void inside of my chest that nothing but my husband's love could fill.
.0oOo0.
As time passed, the pain lingered. The cottage Berwald and I shared seemed so empty with only my presence. Many suns had risen and many moons had light up the night sky, and still not a single word on the well-being of my husband arrived through mail. Despite the longing my heart ached from and the darkness I had been plunged into unwillingly, I still tried to find light in everything. I could make whatever I wanted for dinner without any second thoughts, I could garden for as long as I wished...but still, there were flaws. After finishing my meal, I would look up to find Berwald's dinner chair empty - after hours spent gardening outdoors, I always found myself returning to a vacant home. I spent my nights in our bedroom inhaling Berwald's scent through his pillow that faded some each day. I felt as though he were disappearing along with it.
At some moments, I focused on how Berwald was faring. I wondered if he missed me as much as I missed him - if he thought about me day in and day out just as I did - if he spent evenings sobbing into his hands just as I did.
Then one day, during the fall of 1814, it came.
The postman showed up on my front step for the first time in weeks. I opened the door kindly for him, accepting the letter with shaking hands and bid the lad a good day before looking down at who had sent the message. It was the Draft Board. With fumbling fingers I tore open the envelope and whipped the neatly folded letter out, scanning over the foreign writing with hopeful intentions.
Dear Mister Tino Väinämöinen Oxenstierna,
We would like to honor your husband, Berwald Oxenstierna, for willingly offering his life to the United Forces of Sweden. Unfortunately, Mister Berwald Oxenstierna was counted among many casualties this August 5 of 1814. We commemorate his loss and will send his belongings to your residence as soon as we are able.
His sacrifice will not be in vain,
Draft Board
I was cold, lost, and confused. Which almighty God would leave this to be an occurrence in my reality? I wondered if the angels dancing in the sky were really demons in disguise. There was no possible way any holy creature could allow such a thing.
My heart ceased its beating that very day.
.0oOo0.
The war ended on the 10 of August, just a few days post of Berwald's passing. The surviving men had been returned to their homes, wives and children lining the streets as they greeted their husbands and fathers back home. I went out too, waiting to see if maybe, just maybe, Berwald would emerge from the lot as well. I stood waiting until dusk.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years and I still could not bring myself to move on from Berwald's death. The uncomfortable emptiness of our once shared home lingered day in and day out, leaving me to wallow in my undeserved agony.
I was growing to despise my home now – sitting at the dining table alone and facing an empty chair, lounging in the sitting room with no one to speak with, bathing without a warm body pressed against my back, leaving a spot free on one side of the bed as though someone would return home, the ring sparkling on my finger. I felt myself getting older, getting more tired, feeling more hollow. The void was expanding.
It was in 1820, six years after Berwald's passing, that I decided to fill my home with new life. As a couple, Berwald had always longed for children. It was a soft spot for him, a dream of forming a family with me and residing contently in our little home until death do us part. In honor of my deceased husband's wishes, I finally decided to adopt on 6 of November.
.0oOo0.
I named the blue-eyed baby Peter. He was small and fragile and exclusively mine. I rocked him, sang lullabies, fed him, loved him…Peter soon became my sole purpose of living. I was there for his first laugh, first tears, first steps, first words – it was beautiful how he had grown. Peter was soon the one to sit with me at the dinner table, babble baby-talk in the sitting room, splash his chubby hands into the water as we bathed and took up the once vacant space on the other side of the bed. Peter's love was filling the void.
It was the winter of 1826 that I found myself tucking in my son, making sure the wool blankets kept him warm throughout the night and blocked out the chill of the blizzard. I did my usual routine of updating the ongoing bedtime story of Peter the Viking and his impossibly thrilling adventures, only to leave a cliffhanger to continue in the upcoming night's storytime; checking beneath the bed for any goblins of ghouls; and pressing three goodnight kisses to his nose and both of his cheeks. It was when I stood to leave that he spoke to me ever so softly.
"Tell me about daddy," he requested, childish innocence and curiosity fueling his question. I turned with a small sigh and sat at my son's bedside, carding my fingers through his hair, "Why are you curious about your father, Peter?". I knew the question would eventually come, and somehow thinking of Berwald only hurt me deeply.
"Because," Peter began, "Everyone has a daddy to take care of them…and I've only got a mommy. I wanna know about my daddy".
I bit my lip anxiously, twiddling my thumbs for a few moments and keeping my gaze low. Peter began to grow worried, I supposed, and called out to me again, "Mommy?".
"I'll tell you about your daddy if you promise to be a good boy and fall asleep right after, okay?" I bargained, earning a nod of approval from the six-year-old who promised.
So I told him of how a tall man and I had met at a market place, exaggerating a bit on how strong and mighty he was. Like a viking. I told him of how we became best friends and decided to live together over ten years ago and how he went to fight warriors from another country. I told him of the times they went on strolls and went fishing and laughed together. I told him of Berwald, who was my love, my one and only.
The more I spoke, the more I smiled at the fond memories I had shared with him. It was only a matter of time, though, before Peter had ended up asleep on my lap. I took my son and tucked him back into bed with one final kiss, blowing out the candle and standing quietly. As I left Peter to sleep, I felt something within me change.
Something began to grow warm again.
Thump, thump…
The Heart's Sonata: End.
.0oOo0.
A/N: Hurray for happy endings! (And if you were confused, when Berwald died his heart was broken and ceased beating. At the end, it became whole again and started to thump). This is a oneshot, so no more chapters unless I decide to do a short sequel.
Also, the original version was removed, so here's the more explicit version with sexy scenes: /works/915542
Tell me what you thought of the story! And don't forget to R-E-V-I-E-W!
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