A/N: Lukas is Norway. Mathias is Denmark

1319

Lukas stared out the window. The snow had yet to fall. He liked it better that way. Now the forests looked a little bit more like the fjords on his coast. Beautiful. He would have loved to take a walk today, but today was a matter of business.

Oh, well. At least he got to see Berwald again.

His lips twitched at the thought. He hadn't seen the Swede in years, but had heard that he hadn't done too well during the famine. Just like all of them. Lukas sighed. He had grown just fall sick and grow a little weaker. But he supposed that was life for a land. At least, it felt that way. Maybe life was a cycle. Fifty good years, fifty bad. At least the scenery was nice. He had travelled far and wide, all over Europe, and he had yet to find a place as beautiful as his homeland. Of course, he was biased, but one could not deny the beauty of Norway.

His eyes shifted towards the sound of the opening of the large wooden door. Berwald. Lukas' eyebrows lifted slightly. Wow. He looked taller than Mathias—and that was saying something. Lukas turned towards him, suppressing a smile. Berwald saw him and tilted his head forward in acknowledgement. Lukas finally cracked. "Hej," he said, nodding towards Berwald.

"Hej." Berwald joined him at the window. Lukas had been right. The top of Lukas' head barely reached Berwald's nose.

"So, I see you're a giant now. Anything else new? How's it been going with Finlandi? Has he been much of a fighter?" Lukas smirked. He knew how protective Berwald could be and figured that I free spirit like Finlandi would have had to have been dragged to Stockholm. He himself had never met Finlandi, but he had heard about the boy from Berwald; and any land who was brave enough to face Novgorod on his or her own may be a bastard, but they were a fucking brave bastard.

Berwald shrugged. "Like him. Think he likes me."

Lukas blinked at him. "Oh," he remarked, and continued to stare out the window. He doubted it. But Berwald was a stubborn bastard of few words. The fact that Lukas had heard more than two words from the guy was victory enough. Still, Lukas doubted that Finlandi even knew about this meeting. Lukas bit his lip. They were about to be in a union... did he really want to rock the boat now? "Does he know about this?" Lukas finally ventured.

Berwald shook his head.

Lukas sighed. Berwald was still as stubborn as ever. "He doesn't need you to coddle him, Berwald," Lukas sighed.

Berwald narrowed his eyes in irritation. "Not yours. You don't know him. You don't know what he's been through."

Lukas noticed the irritation, but could not help but remark, "Well, if I were in his shoes, I'd like to know what was going on with my land. But whatever. Your call, I suppose. Come on. They're waiting." Lukas gestured towards a door. Berwald gave him another irritated look, but followed him as Lukas walked in.

1323

God, Berwald was happy to be back in Åbo. He was not at a people person at all—he much preferred the silent forests that surrounded Nöteburg—but coming back meant seeing Tino again. And now he would be coming back with good news. He smiled slightly to himself as he walked among the streets. Åbo was growing larger, especially now that Finlandi was being governed from here. And with it, Tino grew. When Berwald had last seen him, some seven years ago, Tino's voice no longer cracked and though his form was still rather feminine, he now looked more like a teen of fifteen than a child of twelve. Berwald had missed him more than he thought he would. But then again, Tino's cheerfulness was what lit up his life now.

He stopped his train of thought as abruptly as he stopped walking.

Why did he keep thinking like this? Tino was not and could not and would never be his lover. Tino was a child compared to him and no matter how absolutely beautiful he was Berwald could never and would never be able to love him. Besides, he thought viciously as he resumed his walk, he would never want you anyway.

Gah! Why was he being so cranky? He nearly rolled his eyes in annoyance. Sometimes, being a land was just awful, and lately, with all the unrest in the government, it was getting worse. But he was almost home. His strides lengthened and his steps quickened at the thought. Almost home. Soon, he left the village, and only a minute later spied their cottage. Just the sight of it made him smile. They had obsessed over it together: Tino had made sure that the stones were all nice shades of brown and grey, and they had worked on the roof for a week until each log was perfectly straight. The door itself was decorated with a dragon and flower, and on its sides were two small gardens, each which their own batch of lily of valley—Tino's favourite flower. He paused at the door: don't you dare be cranky with Tino, he reminded himself. He pushed it open slowly. Tino wasn't one to sleep in, but who know how— Berwald nearly gasped.

"Hei," said Tino. But he wasn't the Tino that Berwald had left. Tino now looked more like a young man, perhaps of seventeen or eighteen winters. His hair had grown slightly longer and now framed his chubby face, like half-closed curtains on a stage. Beautiful violet-blue eyes stared up him, happiness dancing around the pupils. His frame was still smaller than that of Berwald and had a perfect balance between skinny and chubby. A beret now decorated the top of his head, and at his collar was a silver, almost cross-like object.

Berwald swallowed, thankful that his face gave almost nothing away. "Hej," he responded weakly.

"How was Sweden?" Tino smiled at him. "Oh! I've been practising my Swedish!" he exclaimed before Berwald even had a chance to talk. "I was walking around the village, and I got to learn the names of the stuff they sell at the market place! So next time when we cook, we can do it in Swedish! But you should definitely keep teaching me! I don't really how to put sentences together; it makes no sense! And-" Tino paused and blushed. "I'm sorry. You're probably really tired and I'm just babbling. I'll shut up now. I went hunting yesterday, so we can cook if you'd like. Unless you're tired and you just want to sleep..."

Berwald's lip twitched, and Tino instinctively grinned and ran to hug him. Berwald nearly fainted at the display of affection, and noticed, with some strange sense of relief and satisfaction, that Tino had also gotten taller: the top of his head could now collide with Berwald's jaw. "I'm glad your home," the Finn murmured. Berwald did not reply, but merely tightened his arms around him. Fuck it and fuck everyone who thought this was wrong. Because if this feeling was wrong, then Berwald would never have morals. "I'll sleep," he finally responded as Tino let go of him. Tino smiled and gestured to the next room. "I'll work on dinner."

When Berwald awoke, the sun was barely rising over the horizon. He figured that it must be fairly late in the day; the colder it got, the less high the sun rose in the sky. He blinked a few times, his irritation returning. Why was his eyesight so terrible? For crying out loud, he could barely see his finger— "Morning!" Tino's cheerful tone came as the Finn entered the room. "I'm not sure if you're hungry, but it's still not all that late. Would you prefer to take a walk? It's nice outside..."

Berwald had to restrain himself from narrowing his eyes. He hadn't eat since he left Nöteburg; he was freaking famished. Tradition be screwed;* he wanted food. But Tino had a point. "Walk," Berwald finally responded, standing up. Tino waited patiently at the door as Berwald stretched and finally reached the threshold of the door. "Ready?" Tino said with another smile.

No, Berwald thought sarcastically, I just came to door for no reason. He shook his head and headed out the door, ignoring Tino's confused look.

Tino frowned. Why did Berwald shake his head? Shrugging, the Finn returned the smile to his face and followed Berwald out the door.

Tino had no words to describe his love for the forest. Sure, the city was great and it made him stronger and allowed him to grow more, but the forest... the forest was home. The forest was where he had grown up: it was free and wild and happy and everything that Tino had ever wanted. Though it was late Augustus*, the wind had yet to be as chilly as it normally was although some of the trees had begun to lose their leaves. He wondered why they did that. Whenever it was cold, all he wanted to do was have more layers; but perhaps the trees were different. Maybe they liked the cold touching their branches. Tino hummed merrily to himself as he continued down the path he and Berwald had practically created. "Berwald?" he asked suddenly, turning back to see his companion. "You never did tell me. Where did you go when you went away?"

Berwald had to keep telling his heart to be still. That smile, that slight tilt of the head. Dear God, did Tino not realise how absolutely adorable he was? He was a land for Christ's sake! He shouldn't be feeling like this. "West and East," Berwald finally managed to say.

Tino frowned. "But," he said slowly, "you never go east. I thought we were done with Novgorod. We... well, you, really, haven't been fighting as much as usual. I thought you'd just gone to Sweden." An uneasy feeling grew in Tino's chest. He felt bad for not knowing, but at the same time, a bit of anger coursed through him. Why was he not told these things? After all, Novgorod was on his doorstep, not Berwald's.

Berwald shrugged in response and resumed walking.

"Hei," said Tino sharply, grabbing for Berwald's arm. "I want to know. If it involves Novgorod, it certainly involves me." This was not right. Not here. Not in Tino's perfect, lovely, happy forest. But it needed to happen. Because Tino was no longer a child, and he was getting tired of being treated like one. Berwald had stopped, and Tino loosened his grip slightly. He was not looking for a petty argument, he wanted to say. He was looking for answers.

Berwald inhaled deeply, and said with a small smirk of victory, "You're safe now. Hopefully."

"What?" Tino had certainly not expected that. Safe had never been a word in his vocabulary.

"Treaty."

"About?"

"Borders."

"Wait, what? But," Tino gasped. "But, you didn't even ask me! Where is this freaking border anyway, and why was I not a part of the decision about where this border is?"

Berwald stared at him. Why was Tino angry? Berwald had practically gotten his ass kicked so that Tino could finally have some peace without that bastard looming on his doorstep for the rest of his life. And yet, Tino was looking at him like he was the bad guy? "Sorry," he said, narrowing his eyes in irritation.

"Sorry for what?" Tino snapped. "For letting me in on what's-" Tino cut himself off, turned away, and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, turning back, but not looking Berwald in the eye. "I overreacted. It's just, I feel like you leave me out of a lot of things, and we've always said that this land is ours... but sometimes I feel like you think it's just yours?" He continued to avoid looking at Berwald and spoke in a soft tone that Berwald had never heard him use before. "I know that sometimes you don't really have a choice in the matter, but you could have at least warned me, or let me know what was going on... I just want to know Berwald. I won't go crazy on you. But they're my people, too, and I want what's best for them."

Berwald nodded, wishing he were better with words. But could words explain how he felt at this point? Because all he knew was that Tino was the most beautiful thing he had ever set his eyes on and he would die for him. Tino was a flower, and Berwald may have been fighting against the weather to keep him protected, but with God as his witness, he was going to keep Tino safe. But how could he keep him safe if he involved him in all of these things? Berwald opened his arms in apology and Tino returned the hug.

I want to know, I want to do, Tino thought as he hugged Berwald, but I just don't know how to tell you that... I've never solved a problem with words; it always my knife. Tino pulled away suddenly and gave Berwald another smile.

But I could never use my knife against you.

oOooOooOo

He felt the ground beneath, hard and cold, but it did not matter, nothing matter, not now. Berwald's chest was nearly touching his. He'd never felt so warm, so alive, so...complete. Berwald's face was only millimetres from his own, and Tino could feel his warm breath tickling him. "Berwald," he half-breathed, half-moaned. The Swede rewarded him with a small, loving smile, then pressed his lips to Tino's.

Tino woke up startled—again. This was the second time he had dreamed that dream. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and shame, as he sat up, curling his knees against his torso. Why? Why was he thinking these awful thoughts? First, Berwald was a man...and men weren't supposed to want men that way. Besides, Berwald was, should be more like a brother. Tino bent his head onto his knees. God, if Berwald ever knew. But the worst part was that Tino loved it. He wanted it, and as hard as he tried he could not stop himself from feeling disappointed that it had only been a dream. His face flushed even more. No, Berwald could never know. He stood up from his position against the wall and proceeded to pace around the kitchen.

Berwald had left a few days prior on some urgent business or another. Tino scowled; he didn't even know why Berwald had left. The Swede was still insistent on leaving Tino in the dark and telling him to worry only about his land. Tino leaned his head against the frame of the door. He missed him. Missed having someone to talk to. Berwald did not leave often, and when he did, he made it very clear that he did not wish to leave Tino. But it was becoming more and more often that Berwald left him on his own. Perhaps, perhaps he should move to Stockholm. That was where Berwald's home in Sweden was...right?

Right?

Tino threw his face into his hands in frustration. He hated being kept in the dark, but lately, Berwald had been more and more irritable. The Swede would apologise later and explain that things in his country just weren't going very smoothly, but it still hurt Tino immensely. The one person who had ever bothered to care about him, now rolled his eyes at him and snapped at the slightest provocation. Tears began to burn Tino's eyes.

Why? Why now? Why ever? And how was it that Berwald could make him so happy, yet make him so sad at the same time?

Fuck it. He was going back to sleep.

Historical Notes/Explanations:

First: this chapter only covers the beginning of the 14th century. The latter half/two-thirds will be covered in the next chapter.

Berwald's cranky because his government is being stupid. Well, not stupid, but there were a lot of disagreements during this time—especially after the Union between Norway and Sweden. In the 14th century, a three-year-old inherited became both the King of Sweden and the King of Norway, by, respectively, the Convention of Oslo and inheritance. Long story short, Magnus (the kid) lost both crowns before he died and managed to weaken royal influence so much that the Riksdag was created. Riksdag is the Swedish parliament. (There will be more on this next chapter.)

Tino wants more freedom not only because, let's face it, it's Tino, but also because the Finns were actually not very dependent on Sweden. Though their was a governor for Finland (who was a Swede), the Finns had their own assemblies (called "ting"). Also, Finns were not slaves or even serfs. They owned their own land and could move if they wanted to. They even had representation in parliament. I don't mean to say that life was lovely; they were still considered to be of a low class and were definitely not held in high esteem. But it wasn't as bad as it was in other places.

*For the "tradition be screwed": people didn't normally eat breakfast in the morning during this time period. Apparently, doing so was considered weak. You would only eat breakfast if you were, likely, a peasant and knew you had a lot of work ahead of you.

*For the "Augustus": during this time, Sweden and Finland would have still used the Julius calendar, not the Gregorian calendar (which is the one we use today). Either way, it corresponds with the Gregorian calender's August.

Also, I do know that I skipped over the Great Famine. If you are reading this for the history side, sorry. I didn't know about it until I was going back to make sure that my dates were all correct...and I sort of just wanted to get this chapter out. If someone really wants me to write about it, I will, but I don't think it's awfully necessary to the plot. Though I may end up going back and writing about it anyway. I'm fairly excited and frustrated for the next chapter: The Black Death is coming!

A/N: So, while I was writing this, I was listening to songs from Eurovision... and I realised that this fic (or my ideas for the characters) are very much like the song "Fairytale." Just an observation. (For my fellow Americans [and anyone else who has no idea what I'm talking about]: Eurovision is song contest in Europe. Basically, countries that want to participate hold their own voting and pick an artist to represent their country. There are semi-finals, and then a final. "Fairytale" was Norway's entry in 2009. It won first place, and, in my opinion, is actually a pretty good song.

And, yes, I'm American. I just spell stuff the British way most of the time. :)

Also, for clarification for those of you who think these characters are sort of ridiculous (which I completely agree with, by the way), keep in mind that Berwald has never taken care of anyone; in his mind, protecting Tino means doing everything for him in an effort to make sure that Tino doesn't get hurt anymore. On Tino's side, no one has ever taken care of Tino before. Berwald is the first person who has even bothered to care about it. Tino does not want to lose Berwald, but at the same time does not appreciate Berwald's over-protective nature. And Tino has never learned to solve an argument with anything but his knife.

So, if character's reactions/actions didn't make sense before, hopefully they do now! :)

Oh, and did anyone like the change in syntax for Norway? I felt that the shorter sentences suited. He doesn't seem like someone who babbles in his head.

Au revoir!