Blue Embers

Rating: T

Summary: AU Most people would run away if they found out they were being chosen as the Prince of Hell's bride. Most people wouldn't give up their dreams and try to love the Devil. But most people aren't like Tino Väinämöinen. SuFin.

BrooklynBabbii

A/N: A slight warning for slow progression. But finally, FINALLY, the words are finally out. Damn. This took me longer than I had planned. I hate my life sometimes, why do I always get the most work…and if not the most of it, why do I always get the difficult shit?

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR DAT.

.:Chapter Nine:.

Something Chosen and Awaited

Tino looked at the group before him. A small voice in his head told him that he could take them all, like he had always done with thugs trying to jump him in the past, but a louder part of his conscience told him to calm down. That louder voice continued to go on to say that although fighting could solve the Finn's anger, it would also lead to being treated like a rabid animal. A rabid animal is not put with children, especially not with a recovering child.

The Finn made quick work in glancing over the group, taking in all of their stances and then taking a deep breath. It was meant to be slow, but came out quick and shaky. Tino tried again. He counted to ten, in Finnish, and then back down to one. He nodded silently to the floor, trying to avoid their eyes. He had to become calm. Calm. He needed to be calm.

It was like he was fighting himself, like an addict fighting the urge to go back to their deliverance. The need was there. It was itching to be needed. To be claimed. Tino wanted to claim it, he wanted to fight. He wanted to – but he didn't need to. He didn't need to fight. He didn't need to want to, either.

He didn't need to want to fight.

The air temperature shifted as Tino gradually calmed, his eyes flickered in color before slowly reverting back. His shadow looked expectant, almost looking to be cocking its head in confusion at Tino, but it melted back into the darkness. When Tino lifted his head, his hands were clasped in front of him, and his expression was one of a mask. "I want to see my son," he said simply. "Take me to him." He forced himself not to say, "And no tricks." He barely managed to suppress the urge, but he did.

No one moved. No one breathed. No one even blinked. Not a single movement came over any of the group. Tino remained still and silent, he didn't enforce his demands, and he didn't repeat them. He remained calm. He kept a mantra in his head: "Remain calm for Peter. Remain calm for Peter. Remain calm for Peter."

Emil was the first to respond, by taking a step forward. He blinked once, and then said, "He means well. He is not thinking of anything malicious. He just really wants his kid back."

Berwald and Mathias stood down, the flames in their eyes vanishing to nothing. Mathias still looked uneasy and his eyes held suspicion of the quiet Finn looking dead ahead in front of him. Berwald said nothing; he did nothing but eyed the one he had marked to keep by his side. Lukas was the only one to remain armed and angry; he wasn't growling, but the green spirit was pretty much doing that for him.

The young demon named Emil blinked again, looking back at Tino, and then frowned at his older brother. "Lukas, call off your guard. He is not going to attack you."

Lukas did not. Mathias looked over at his mate, saw how unresponsive he was, saw the blood dripping from his mouth, how his conjured spirit was beginning to flicker in and out of existence, despite keeping its presence known through its insistent growling. Berwald caught on at the last moment; he tried to warn, "He's about to –"

Lukas was barely caught before he fell forwards, face almost devoid of color and trembling. He was muttering something, eyes distant and full of unvoiced fear. Mathias held him off the floor, his eyes starting to gather back the flames, as Emil read the minds of the group once more.

Lukas was weak, his mind was blank.

Mathias was both angry and worried; his mind was an utter mess of panic and the embers of ire.

Berwald was calculating the dangers of those present, and his mind was focused on the silent Finn in front of him.

Tino….

Emil took a step closer, and frowned. The Finn said nothing, but he did look at the younger approaching him. When Emil made to raise his hand to touch him, Mathias barked out, "…What are you -!"

Emil's fingertips made contact with the Finn's forehead, and his breath seized, to conjure up the image of Tino's broken and bloody Angel, he saw it how it looked up from the recesses of his mind.

The Angel blinked up from licking its wounds, from within the cracked mirror, before the Angel recognized his presence within its territory and just stared. It stared and stared and stared, cocked its head, ignoring the blood spilling down his chin, as it continued to stare. Then it suddenly frowned, and when it blinked; there was only a dark and cracked mirror, with a discarded rose petal on the blank white floor.

A small puff was heard in the mental expanse of his mind, and then Emil was allowed no further entrance into Tino's thoughts.

"You suppressed it…" Emil said aloud. Tino said nothing. Emil made to touch the Finn's face again, but felt nothing. He saw nothing. Not the dark mirror. Not the white space that was the Finn's space. Nothing. It was if there was something keeping him out. And while it was a surprising change to the telepathic demon, and one he would later indulge himself in reading up late to find out more about it, right then – it was the most frustrating thing to happen to him.

He reacted like a child, becoming angry and almost glaring. He took ahold of the Finn's face, and searched the other's violet eyes, trying to find something. Anything. But when he came out with only a headache, he growled and pulled away. "You shut me out."

The room went silent again.

Tino had yet to say a word, although more than a few were on the tip of his tongue from being borderline manhandled by someone he considered a stranger. He did not like his face touched. Tino bit his tongue, and mentally counted again. When he met the eyes of those in the room, there was Emil pouting and attempting to stare a hole into his head, Mathias carrying Lukas who was still glaring at him, although the blood was gone from his lips and starting to come back to his face. His conjured spirit was gone, finally.

Berwald was the only one not looking at Tino. The tallest demon of them all was at the door, holding it, before he announced, "Mathias. Take Lukas and Emil with you, do what you need to do. I will show Tino to his…son." He almost seemed to be having trouble with the word, as if he didn't want to say it, but he knew that he had to.

Mathias nodded tightly, giving one glance at Tino, before saying something clipped to Emil in another language. The younger demon broke his unshared staring contest, to frown and then grumble under his breath, before he begrudgingly followed Mathias out. Lukas said not a word, focusing mainly on breathing and trying to conserve some energy until he could be properly tended to.

Tino did not move, instead he kept still for a moment longer, until Berwald asked, "Do you still want to see him? There is still time before dinner…" Tino did not verbally answer him, but he did walk to the door and step outside of it. By the time he had done so, there was no sign of Mathias, Emil or Lukas; only the faint smell of them to suffice as evidence that they had even been there at all.

"I'm sorry for Lukas' behavior," Berwald began, as he started walking in one direction. Tino followed after him, speeding up to match the taller demon's longer strides. "He does not get along well with people he doesn't know very well. He can be…blunt or even offensive, at first, but he is nice once time has allowed him to get used to you."

Tino said nothing. He didn't even nod. Berwald thought of ways to start conversation, but stopped. He was never good at starting conversations or keeping them really. He was one of simple answers, questions or responses. But the Finn beside him was too quiet, and it made him all too aware of the silence between them. They couldn't get to Peter's recovery room soon enough.

The poor boy had had to be moved to be closer to the heart of the manor, to be well within its influence of power. His spirit was flighty, and tended to skip around the room as the nurses fretted and the other occasional ghost would groan at. But he was alive. That was all that mattered to Tino.

Both his blonde hair and his skin were a bit paler than the Finn remembered, as if neither had seen the sun in a while. His eyes were closed; the lids had visible blue veins. His lips were pale, almost devoid of color, and the poor boy kept shivering, despite how warm the room was.

Upon entering the room with Berwald, the ghost gave a low hum and vanished, and the nurses hurried to back from the bed. It wasn't like their constant fretting was doing much good for Peter right then anyways.

As Tino approached the bed, his heart hung in his throat, his eyes never strayed. Peter looked like he was sleeping, but he looked like he was having a fever. His hair was wild, his face somewhat pained, and when he breathed, it was slow and the next almost seemed more labored than the last breath.

A chair was pushed behind his back, and Tino turned to see a nurse bowing his head and muttering apologies, before going back to stand against the wall. Tino took it, nodding silently as a word of thank you, and then sat down. He didn't notice how shaky his own hands were, until they were grasping Peter's smaller ones.

The one to make him change for the better. The first person to welcome his new life out of Finland. Lying on a bed, and possibly on their way to dying. Tino almost forgot how to breathe. When he finally did manage, he choked out, "What are his chances?"

There was a silence, and Tino was about to repeat his question, albeit with more force and possibly a tad undertone of anger; when a nurse piped up and said: "Sixty to forty. But we'll watch him all throughout the night. He's responding to our spells, but he hasn't woken up yet, so our numbers may be off."

Sixty to forty? Tino almost choked on what little breath he had taken in. All throughout the night? Not waking up? The only good thing to have come from the nurse's mouth was the possibility that their numbers were off, that and Peter was still alive and his body was responding…

Wait, was he responding good or bad?

Tino turned back to look at the nurse, and said lame demon squeaked in surprise at being recognized. He grew even more afraid, when Tino spoke, "How was he responding? Good or bad?"

When Berwald looked over as well, having not thought of that question but wanting an answer as well, the nurse just about shit himself. "G-good, very well, actually," the lame demon began. He was trying to huddle back with the others, but they were intent on keeping the spotlight on him and not all of them. Kind of like forcing him to take one for the team. Well played.

Tino nodded, relief beginning in his eyes, as he turned back to his 'sleeping' little boy. He ran his thumb over the back of Peter's hand, feeling the faint pulse there and how there was still warmth in his skin. There was a chance. Peter still had a chance.

Tino would decide his fate on that chance. He was done to chances, once again. But this time, it wasn't for a brawl or for stealing food; it was whether or not he would remain sane in this new world without the one who showed him to a new outlook in the first place. Without Peter, he might still be the same Tino he had left behind in Finland.

The one who wouldn't have given two fucks about slitting someone's throat to get what and/or where he wanted or needed to go. Hell, Tino could remember snapping one guy's neck for looking at him funny; then another time for pure entertainment.

Peter could not die. He simply couldn't…

Tino wouldn't be himself without the little ball of energy. Why he had been abandoned, Tino would never know – he didn't trust the Angel's words at the back of his mind, of it being on purpose – but the Finn had no plans or wants to be abandoned either.

He gave Peter's hand a small squeeze, even more careful of himself now. Even before his change to his new life, he had always been strong. So he was used to being careful, he would just have to step it up a notch now.

Tino nodded, almost smiling a bit. Yes, he could do that. He caressed a finger down Peter's face, gently, and felt the curve down to where the Finn knew the boy's dimples to be hiding. He already missed his boy's smile, how it could light up an entire room.

He would have him back.

Tino forced himself to let go, as he nodded to himself, telling himself over and over that this was for the best. He gave the nurses the nod to continue back on with their magic and spells. The ghost didn't come back in, but Tino didn't know why he expected it to, most likely because he had seen it in the room when he had come in. Ah well.

Tino turned to the door, expecting Berwald to follow him. When he did, the Finn closed the door behind them, and waited a moment to say anything, "What do I have to do?"

"What -?" Berwald started, and Tino repeated himself, albeit his tone a tad harsher than before.

"What do I have to do," he repeated, "if I want you to keep him alive?" At Berwald's blink, the Finn went on, balling his fists at his sides, "People don't do things for free, no matter how good a person, there is always a cost. What is yours?"

At first, there was silence, and then Berwald came forth with an answer. "You have to remain. You can never go back up to the surface."

What do I put here? I don't even know. I don't even have much to say. Ummmm. You know what? I love you guys. I do. I get so much support, and I wanna update, and then LIFE COMES IN TO FUCKING FLIP MY TABLES, AND I'M JUST LIKE:

"D: aaw, that's not fair!"

And LIFE is just like: "FUUUUUU-, BITCH. DON'T NOBODY CARE FOR YO BITCH ASS. SIT DOWN AND SHUT THE FUCK UP. WIT YO UGLY ASS."

And then I crawl in a corner and reblog dumb shit on Tumblr to make myself feel better. :/

READ AND REVIEW.