14th Century: The Black Death, Part I

1348: Tino stared at Berwald, who was sleeping near the fire, an expression of pain on his scarred face. The Swede had returned only a few hours prior to their small cottage, and all Tino had managed to gather was that everything had gone wrong*. Then Berwald had gone to sleep. Tino was worried about him. Every since their talk in the forest, Berwald had been slightly more open about his own government—and nothing he had to say about the matter was particularly uplifting. But on the brightside, Berwald was now teaching him Swedish and had promised to allow Tino to accompany him to Stockholm once Tino got the hang of it. Of course, Berwald wasn't always there, so more and more often Tino travelled to Åbo alone, purposefully speaking in Swedish in an effort to practise. Tino smiled despite his worry.

He had been getting help from a very nice Swedish lady named Linnea, who, by some miracle, was not wealthy or stuck-up and spoke some Finnish*. They had run into each other will picking berries just outside of the village. She had asked him for help to carry some firewood to her home, and fifteen minutes later, Tino found himself munching on some food while she talked about her travels in Sweden and Finlandi. Tino had drunk it all in. He had to admit: Sweden sounded like a very nice place—at least, when there was no famine*. And he could not help but swell with pride when she complimented that Finlandi had some of the beautiful lakes she had ever seen. The day before, he had gathered up the courage to ask her how one said "I love you" in Swedish.

"Jag älskar dig." She had finally responded after teasing him for a good three minutes about who the lucky girl was. But it had been worth it. Tino had not made up his mind, but if the opportunity arose, he would tell Berwald.

"Jag älskar dig," he mumbled to himself, for what must have been the millionth time, practising the pronunciation. He sort of wished that Berwald would take an interest in Finnish, but understood why Berwald wouldn't. Everyone knew that anyone who spoke Finnish was poor and unsightly. But still, it would have been nice for Berwald to show some interest in something of Tino's. That didn't involve land or business, of course.

"Tino," he heard his name murmured and turned immediately. But Berwald was still asleep...

It took a moment for it to click in Tino's mind. Tino blinked a few times. Had...had Berwald really called Tino's name in his sleep? Was he dreaming about him? Tino blushed at the thought. But before he could dissuade himself, Berwald repeated his name again, and Tino blushed harder, a strange feeling of elation spreading through his chest. Stop acting like a little girl, Tino chided himself. But he couldn't help but feel happy.

Presently, he shivered. It was getting colder again. He stole a glance at Berwald's sleeping form. Surely... surely, Berwald wouldn't mind... Oh, fuck it. He scampered to Berwald and pressed himself as close as he could to Berwald's warm body. Berwald shifted, still asleep, and grabbed Tino tightly. Tino grinned widely, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.


When Berwald awoke, he realised two things. One, he was really hungry. Two, and much more importantly, Tino was sleeping next to him. Berwald blinked a few times. Had they slept together to begin with? All he could recall was coming in, spitting out that he did not want to talk about the cuts on his face, and going to sleep near the fire. Tino had said something about food, but if Berwald remembered correctly, the Finn had still been awake. With a blush, he hoped that Tino had fallen asleep soon after he had. When they were children, Mathias would tease Berwald endlessly about how Berwald talked in his sleep.

And Berwald wasn't quite sure how to explain what he had been dreaming about to Tino. He blushed again. He really shouldn't be thinking these things.

Tino stirred and turned to face Berwald, his eyes still somewhat unfocused. Tino blinked sleepily, then smiled and greeted, "Good morning... heh, sorry... it got sort of cold, and I thought you wouldn't mind."

Berwald shook his head. Seriously, how did Tino manage to look so freaking adorable? And how, Berwald thought more darkly, could anyone hurt such a beautiful thing? "Don't mind," he muttered. He detached himself from Tino, stood up, and extended a hand to Tino. Tino took the hand and stood as well. They looked at each other for a few moments, then Tino exclaimed, "Oh! I have something for you, actually! I just didn't get a chance to give it to you last night since you went to sleep so quickly!"

Berwald tilted his head slightly. "No! You're not gonna get it that easily," Tino teased, his insides shaking with a strange mixture of nervousness and elation. "Close your eyes!" Berwald gave him a look, but complied. He felt his arm be grabbed gently, and he was led to what he was fairly sure was the kitchen. "Keep them closed!" Tino reminded him, letting go of his arm. Berwald heard some shuffling and opening and closing. What was it that Tino had gotten? "Ah!" he heard the Finn exclaim. "Finally found it! You can open your eyes now." Berwald did so, and stared at the object in Tino's hand. It looked to be some sort of weird circle-like object with a mirror in it. But rather than seeing a reflection, Berwald could see right through it.

Tino shook it in his hand a bit, grinning widely. "I found it in the marketplace a few days ago. There were some traders from the far south, some place called... called Ven...Venice, I think...Anyway, he said that they made them there and that they will help people see better. So I automatically thought of you. I think they might be able to help you. When I looked through them, everything looked a bit smaller and blurry, but the guy said that that was normal. Apparently, if you can't see stuff up close, these things will help. So maybe they'll help you?"

Berwald took the strange object from Tino's hands. Skeptically, he brought them close to his face. Tino's face jumped into view, only an inch away. Berwald's heart pounded. Tino was close enough to kiss. "Can you see me?" Tino said excitedly, not having noticed Berwald's dilemma.

You could, a small voice in Berwald's head whispered. Berwald tore his gaze away. "Yeah," he said hurriedly, turning away. "Can see ya now." Tino's grin widened; he doesn't even suspect, not for a moment, a voice within Berwald cried. Not even for a moment does he guess what you were thinking!

Tino's grin faded, and the joy in his eyes was quickly replaced with worry. "Berwald... are you alright? I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have been to energetic in the mornings. I know you don't like them as much...And you're probably hungry aren't you? You didn't eat last night..." Tino faltered at the sight of the small smile that suddenly appeared on Berwald's face.

And that was why Berwald loved him. Loved him for being so stubborn, so happy, and always trying to turn the tables. Someone who would never stop taking care of him, but would always need someone there for them. Someone who deserved that type of care, unconditional and forever love. And Tino was the paragon of someone like that.

"Nothing," Berwald managed. Because why bother with spoken words when emotions were so much greater and truer—and had absolutely no chance of being openly rejected.

Tino pouted. "Oh, come on, Ber! It's not fair. You were looking all upset just a second ago and now you're smiling, and you won't tell me why! Come on, please!" Tino gave him the best puppy eyes he could muster, making sure to tilt his head slightly down, but to look up with his eyes at the same time.

How on earth did a grown man manage to look like a child, Berwald wondered, his mind scrambling desperately for some excuse. "Just remembering something," Berwald muttered. "Can you get something ready?"

Tino narrowed his eyes playfully, deepened his pout, then grinned again and saluted: "Coming right up!"

oOooOooOo

1350: The end of the world came in a small note. A sheet of paper, folded four times, wrapped with a small piece of rope. Berwald could recall it perfectly. And he hoped, he prayed that the worst case scenario would not occur.

He had gotten the note from a young Norwegian man, who explained that his master, Lukas, had asked him to bring it to Berwald, only a few days prior.

But ever since then the note was all he could think about.

Tino had been asleep when he opened it. Unfolding it once, twice, three, and a final fourth time. He could picture it even now. Lukas' elegant writing. And the words. Those stupid, cursed words that could mean the end of everything.

And yet, that did not stop them from repeating themselves in his mind.

I am truly sorry. My people have brought some disease from the mainland, and they are dying. As hard as I have tried, I can make no restrictions on their passage to your land. This sickness is like nothing I have ever seen...I know no cure and neither does Mathias.
But we are both sick. Mathias can no longer leave his chamber, and I fear that I will soon be in the same position. Berwald, I know our split did not end to well, but know that I and Mathias do care for you. And if, God willing, we leave this alive, we truly should act more like brothers. For we are, Berwald.
All my love and apologies,
Lukas

Berwald had crumpled up the note, thrown it into the fire, and not slept the entire night.

And he did not tell Tino.

oOooOooOo

Three years later...

When his head first started hurting, Berwald thought little of it. His royal family seemed to only be losing power, and his people's discontent with both them and the Church* left many unsettled.

But a quick trip to Stockholm and the beginnings of a cold showed him otherwise.

It seemed that God would not spare them. What Lukas had warned him about three years prior had finally settled in Sweden*.

It wasn't until the winter when Tino began to feel woozy and weak. At first, he thought it a normal reaction. After all, it was winter: everyone had less to eat and as beautiful as it was, snow could also be deadly. So Tino had decided that it was better to just not dwell on it. There were other things that could balance that out. For one, Berwald was staying with him for the winter. Berwald had told him about a month ago that he would not be making a trip to Stockholm because his royal family neither wanted nor needed him there. Tino, of course, was thrilled. Berwald was a good cook, and Tino had progressed enough in his Swedish to be able to have small conversation. A few times, they had even managed to make a dish together only speaking Swedish.

The smile that had been growing on Tino's face faded. Despite his optimism, Tino could not shake off a thought: that there was a different reason for Berwald not returning to Stockholm.

True, Berwald himself was somewhat sick. He actually seemed a bit worse than Tino, what with his constant coughing and ever-present fever. Tino only coughed occasionally, and only gotten a fever once. He had tried to take care of Berwald, but both of them knew that there was not much Tino could do. Berwald's health solely depended on the state of Sweden. All Tino could do was make sure he was comfortable. Berwald, the ever strong Berwald, told him it was alright and that they'd merely been having a shortage food in Sweden. Which admittedly worried Tino for his own health. In Tino's land, Berwald's people were the rich ones. If they didn't have enough to eat, then what were the chances of a Finnish peasant further north? Perhaps that was why he himself was sick, Tino mused, staring out at the rest of the cottage. Why did Berwald have to be so warm and comfortable? And how had Tino gotten by all those years without him?

Tino was now too lazy to get up most mornings and had developed the bad habit of waiting for Berwald to wake up. Although, most days waiting for the Swede to awaken was more practical. There was not much to do in their small home other than clean or talk to each other, and both Tino and Berwald did not always feel well enough to run or walk outside. But today Tino felt a bit better and was rather bored of staying indoors. Perhaps he could convince Berwald to accompany him to Åbo, and they could get some fresh air and maybe find some berries on the way...

Tino turned onto his other side, now facing Berwald. He smiled gently. To anyone else, Berwald would have been utterly terrifying. His strong jaw and sharp features gave him an intimidating look, and his ever-present squint forced him to glare at everything. But to Tino, he was sweet. He was like one of the bears that roamed around the forests, hurting only that which they needed to eat and that which threatened them or those they loved. Tino's smile widened. Just a cuter, human version of one of those bears. "Hei," Tino said softly, shaking Berwald's shoulder.

The Swede's eyes opened slowly and blinked a few times before meeting Tino's eyes. "Hej," Berwald yawned.

Was it weird to be this happy to wake up next to someone, Tino wondered, as he asked, "Do you think we could go into Åbo today? I don't particularly need anything, but a change in scenery would be nice."

Suddenly, Berwald was completely awake. He had been dreading this for quite a while and found that he wasn't quite sure how to dissuade Tino.

"Ber?" Tino questioned after a minute of silence.

Shit. "Not feelin' too good." Berwald closed his eyes and coughed lightly to prove his point. Inward sigh of relief. At least he wasn't completely lying.

"Oh, alright. I'll just go on my own," came Tino's voice.

Berwald's eyes shot open. "No," he said before he could stop himself.

Tino's brow furrowed, then he rolled his eyes though he wasn't really annoyed. "I have my puukko*. No bear is going to eat me on the way, Berwald," Tino joked.

"Tino, no," Berwald said more sternly.

Tino's brow furrowed once more. This wasn't a joke any more. "Why not?" he asked, a bit more tersely.

"Because I said so."

Tino's eyes narrowed. He realised that sometimes he really didn't like Berwald and how ridiculously authoritative he could be. "And?" Tino pressed, ready for an argument.

"I'm not gonna argue," replied Berwald, sensing Tino's mood. He got up.

Tino shrugged. "Fine." He, too, stood up, gave Berwald a long, pointed look, then walked out the door, making sure to slam it. Berwald stood still for a minute, then punched the wall. Why wouldn't Tino listen?

He sighed. But could he do anyway? Drag the stubborn Finn back into the cottage and tie him down? With the state that Berwald was in, Tino could easily overpower him. Regardless, he did not want to fight Tino. Another bout of coughing hit , he staggered to a chair in the dining room and sat, preparing himself for Tino's outrage when he returned.


Tino hated arguing with Berwald. It always made him feel as though he were being ungrateful and fighting himself and being mean and unfair and—ugh! Stupid Berwald. But Tino just couldn't stand it sometimes, especially when Berwald played the "because I said so" card. Tino was not his goddamn' servant, kid, property, wife, whatever! And while he was certainly grateful for the things that Berwald had done for him, he was not going to be pushed around!

His walking slowed as he calmed himself. So maybe he should have tried talking a bit more...but why would Berwald not want him to come into Åbo? Normally the Swede was happy to see him adjusting to being in a village. Said that Åbo was lot more like Stockholm than Tino's precious forest. So why...? Wait... wasn't it sort of quiet?

Too quiet? Tino frowned. He should be close to the village by now—in fact, there were the first few houses...but there was no sound. Tino's pace quickened until he was almost running. A bout of coughing stopped him before he reached the first house.

But by then, he knew something was terribly wrong.

Because the second house on the right was Linnea's house. And the Swedish woman always had a well-tended garden, winter or not. The silence seemed infinite and instantaneous as Tino, despite his light-headedness, ran to the kind Swedish woman's home. He did not bother to knock, pulling the door open and running in. "Hej! Hej! Linnea! Linnea,är du här?" Tino shouted. The silence was eerie. This was Åbo. It should not be silent. There should be children running in the streets and vendors yelling for attention and—

"Tino?" came Linnea's voice, followed by a raspy cough.

Tino followed the voice, relief flooding through him. Perhaps she was just ill as well.

And then he saw her.

A pool of blood lay her side. She seemed pale, too pale and her eyes were marked with violet. Her body seemed to quake and her fingers were blackened, nails sunken in. On her arms, swollen parts of skin shook like apples hanging from a tree. Her mouth was ringed with red as though she had been vomiting blood. "Tino," she said again, with a small, almost delirious smile. "Jag är glad att du kom."

"Linnea..." He couldn't believe it. It had not been more than two weeks since he last her. She had been perfectly fine then. Glowing, really. How had this happened? How could this happen? Was everyone else like this? Was that why the streets were so quiet? Dread filled Tino's heart. "What happened? What's happening?"

The woman gave him a sad look. "I do not know. Suddenly," she coughed, then continued, "we were all sick. Everyone seems to be dying, and I believe I will be joining them." She coughed harshly and blood fell onto her hands. Tino felt the tears pop from his eyes.

"Ei. No," he whispered.

She gave him another sad look. "All things must come to an end, Tino." She coughed again. "But you will do one thing for me, yes?"

And Tino wondered how true that statement was. Would he come to an end someday? He knew she was referring to this sickness wiping them all out, but Tino knew. He knew that for him there was no escape. He would have to watch in person or in dreams as every Finnish woman, man, and child died before he himself died. And suddenly, that scared him more than the thought of not existing himself. "Anything," he whispered. Anything for this lovely woman who had treated him so well without demanding anything in return.

"Tell him."

Tino's eyes widened. Surely... surely she did not know about Berwald? She was certainly not thinking... oh, God, was it that obvious?

She smiled softly at him. "I know, Tino. I have seen him with you, and I know you adore him. Tell him, won't you? What I taught you to say."

Tino found himself nodding as he took a few steps back. He wasn't even sure what he was agreeing to. He just knew that he could not bear this. He continued to nod, but Linnea had already closed her eyes, a peaceful smile on her face. Tino wasn't sure if she was dead—what did dead mean anyway—and he wasn't sure and he just—God, could he really just—and was everyone else like this—the images of her blackened hands and swollen skin—was Stockholm like this?

Stockholm.

Berwald.

Berwald did not return to Stockholm.

Berwald was sick. Tino was sick...

Bile rose through his throat, his emotions affecting his physical state. He vomited over the floor, and Linnea still did not wake. A part of him wanted to touch her, see if she was cold like so many others Tino had seen die. But he could not accept it. This was not happening. And suddenly, as he wiped the bile from his mouth, he realised that he could not deal with this.

He ran.


A/N: Yeah, not the end of the Black Death quite yet. Still a bit more to go... except, if I added that last bit the chapter probably would have gotten to about 7k or 8k words and I don't know how you all feel about long chapters. Either way, sort of wanted to get this published. :)

If you don't like OCs, sorry. However, I figured that Tino would/should have some interaction with someone other than Berwald since he's basically not allowed to leave Finland—for now. I think that will change with the coming of the Kalmar Union... but that shouldn't happen until the chapter after next... anteeksi.

Oh, and Berwald is indeed not a morning person. He will be very happy once coffee gets to Scandinavia. But that won't be until much later.

BTW... you all should look up Imagine Dragon's song "Demons." It's a really good song. :)


Swedish:

Är du här – Are you here?

Jag är glad att du kom – I'm glad you came.

Finnish:

Ei – No.


Historical Explanations:

*Magnus, the king that was mentioned in the last chapter who caused the union between Norway and Sweden, went on a crusade against Novgorod (who was still Orthodox)—and failed quite spectacularly. He never attatcked them again.

*If you were Swedish and lived in Finland, generally you were rich. Most everyone who spoke Finnish (which the Swedes didn't really consider a language at this point) was a peasant. As mentioned in the last chapter, though peasants weren't treated horribly, they were not held in high esteem. Tino, of course, still feels some amount of loyalty to them.

*The first eyeglasses were made in Italy in the late 13th century. I'm not sure when they got to Scandinavia though... but, hey, they had already been invented, at least!

*After the Great Famine and all the problems in the Swedish government, the Swedes lost a lot of the confidence they had in the Chruch and their Royal Family. Prayer did nothing to stop the famine, after all.

*Puukko is Finnish for "knife," but these are special. Not in the sense that they do something special, but to get one as a gift is a huge honour. People will spend quite a bit of time carving the hilt and maybe making a special sheath, etc.

Swollen skin, blackened fingers, and coughing up blood were some of the symptoms caused by the Black Death.