Time is nothing.

Fear

When Christen tells him this is the end of the revolt, Norway will become Protestant and that is final, Lukas accepts it. He can do nothing anymore, no longer a kingdom but rather a Danish province. He seethes inside but knows it is no time to act rashly. Berwald sends him his consolation for such a loss.

News of the fire in Oslo arrives days after Lukas has already woken to a burning sensation in his chest that seems to go on forever. Emil hides under his arms as Christen reads out the news, but Lukas can do nothing to save his once-beautiful Oslo and accepts its fate as his own. Berwald writes that he much preferred Oslo to the new name the Danish king will give it, Christiania.

The Danish monarch becomes absolute king over Norway. Lukas barely recalls the ceremonies, standing beside Christen, feeling lifeless and almost-dead. Berwald recalls in his letters days they used to spend in the warm sun, happy. Content. At peace. Equal.

It's during the wars that Lukas lashes out, nothing to lose, nothing to fear. He doubts that anyone could ever pry him from Emil, and he knows Christen would never, ever let the two be parted.

The Danish nation, to his credit, channels Lukas's fear and anger towards the enemies. War after war rages on between Denmark and Sweden, seemingly never ending. Each time Christen scopes the battlefield and points out to the Norwegian where their brother in blood stands, opposed to them. The Finnish boy beside him grows each time; Lukas sneers, because he would never put Emil in peril and yet Berwald seems to risk Timo so easily.

And at night when his Danish lover is rough with him as they wait for spies to come back, fucking to drive away the pain in their chests both physical and emotional, Lukas can almost bear it. For even those few glimpses, however short the time, remind him that Berwald is still flesh and blood and there and his, always his, forever his. It gets Lukas through the long Nordic nights.

This war (they'll all blend together, in the end; they always seem to) and this night are different. Christen, as usual, stands once he's satisfied, quickly dressing. He paces as Lukas lays out on the bed, unashamed of his body, fingers tracing the scars along his stomach where he's been cut in battle or whipped for insolence. The spy's normally come by now; they wait for hours tonight.

Finally the Dane can't take it, blowing out the tent to demand answers. The fire casts eerie shadows all along the room, monsters forming before Lukas's deep blue eyes. Like watching clouds in the sky, they take forms that his mind wishes.

Berwald, tall and mighty, leers down over a mountain. Lukas, lean and strong, in a boat leads the way as Christen, beside him, paddles hard towards the Swede. Emil waits behind them; Timo stands behind Berwald.

His eyes slip closed and the vision continues, their ship reaching the shore only to find Berwald gone. Lukas climbs as quickly as he can over the mountain to come down the other side and find the Swedish nation embracing Timo, kissing him and whispering words that were only meant for the Norwegian's ears. His deceit eats at Lukas who draws his sword, ignoring Christen behind him, grabbing him, shaking him–

"Oi! Wake up!" Lukas sits with a fright. The room is dark now, Christen beside him eyeing him suspiciously. "Did you hear anything I said?"

"Tell me it is not true," the Norwegian breathes in one go. "Tell me it is all a lie, what I see before my eyes, that what I most fear has not come to pass–"

Arms encircle him, pulling him back down. Christen shakes his head. "I am so, so sorry Lukas, but it is true." Bastard! his mind screams, the man crying.