A/N: Before going "Hey, what about 1809?!?", let me assure you this IS the 1809 chapter. It's only the frame story that is set in 1822. (Witness my fantabulous idea-merging skillz! =D) ^_~. After all, how could I ignore such an important event? (Well, everything's possible I guess XD).

About this chapter: oh my, this was probably the hardest thing for me to write EVER. That's also why it took me longer to than the other chapters so far. Sorry! Hopefully the ending result is worth it. Anyway, without further ado:

Always By Your Side

Chapter 13: 1822

Sweden carefully pushed the door to the salon open with his elbow, balancing various pieces of cleaning equipment in his arms. Norway looked up from the book he had been reading and stared at Sweden, his monochrome eyes revealing no emotions.

"Going to clean the house then?" He asked.

"Yea." Sweden replied and re-adjusted he things he was holding under his left armpit.

Norway nodded. "Good idea." He started reading again. "I ll help you later."

"Th'nks." Sweden left the room. He was glad to see Norway had finally calmed down. He had been furious when Sweden first had dragged him into his house. Sweden couldn't really blame him though; he had been planning to move back into a house of his own. Sweden sighed. Regardless, he needed Norway; there was no way he could live on his own again. After all, Norway was a dear old friend, and his quiet companionship helped to keep Sweden's mind off the loss...

Sweden froze mid-step, causing the cleaning equipment to clatter loudly. No matter how hard he tried, his mind kept wandering to the same issue. It was partially why he had decided to clean the house today; tough manual labor might be just what he needed to stop him thinking about what had happened...

Sweden breathed heavily. Now matter how many times he experienced the bitter feeling of defeat, it never became easier to bear or accept.

He could hear Finland calling for him, but his voice sounded distant and muffled, and he couldn't make out the words. If only he could close his eyes for a second and rest. Maybe then he would be able to defy Russia's orders...

He had known he couldn't hold up against Russia for that much longer anymore, but it was still a shock to see the difference in their powers. This time around, it really was hopeless. And now...France and Denmark threatened to attack him too.

At this rate, he was going to lose everything.

He looked up and saw Finland staring at him, concern written all over his face. He could also see the dark shadow in his eyes had spread and now fully encompassed them. If he really left now like Russia demanded, what would happen to the Finn? It was almost too late already.

"Su-san?" Finland asked again, sounding more and more alarmed.

Sweden shut his eyes and tried to focus. There had to be way out of this deathtrap for both of them. If only he could find it...The situation was so overwhelming it was almost impossible to think clearly. Why couldn't there just be one enemy at the time?

He took a deep breath and started to think rationally. If he wanted to stand any chance against Russia, he would have to do as he told him and leave for now, as well as secure himself from other directions and regain some of his strength. That also meant he'd have to leave Finland behind. Could he really do that?

He tried to convince himself it was the only sensible option, no matter how bad it felt. He'd be able to rescue him once the spring arrived for sure... He'd just have to lure Russia away somehow.

It's the only way...

He braced himself and looked at Finland again.

"I...haf'ta..." He staggered, frantically trying to find the right words. Finland stared at him without even blinking. After a moment of awkward silence Sweden saw a flash of realization in his. Finland gave a slight nod, as if he had come to the same conclusion himself.

"Don't worry, I can handle it." He looked forward, clearly exhausted but determined. "It can't be worse than at the first time."

Sweden nodded grimly. He lifted his gear and gave Finland a clumsy hug with one arm. His smaller body felt smaller than he had remembered, and he felt even worse about leaving him. It was too late to regret it now though. He let go and walked past him. He slowly walked away, only to turn around and look back. He saw Finland lower his weapon and walk towards to opposite direction, his footsteps barely audible in the fresh snow. Sweden took another deep breath and forced himself to continue towards west.

I swear, I'll come back for you when the spring arrives...

Sweden violently shook himself out of his thoughts. He had to stop thinking about it already, it was already too late. He decided to get to work as soon as possible. The bedroom would be a good place to start; it was more than messy enough to keep him focused.

He walked through the corridor to his bedroom and looked around. It looked quite a bit cleaner than he had remembered, but when he opened the wooden closer, books and various pieces of clothing fell down onto the floor from it. He frowned at the mess. Okay, these definitely had to be sorted out before he could start scrubbing the place, some of the clothes were centuries old. He picked up as many things as he could carry at once and dropped them on the bed, sat next to the pile and started folding them. He really hadn't bothered with keeping the room organized lately...Back in the day, everything had been neatly arranged, including the clothes. He smiled faintly: When they had still been children, Finland had once sneaked into his closet when he had been sleeping and had been trying on his clothes despite them being over-sized to him when Sweden had found him. He had panicked and tripped on the hem of the dress he had been wearing at the moment, bumping his head in the process. Sweden hadn't known whether to laugh or cry at the silly scene, and from then on had always sewn all the clothes he gave to Finland to make sure they were the right size...

He paused and gave himself a slap on the forehead. Why did everything have to remind him of him? It was hard enough as it was...He sighed and continued folding the clothes, trying to ignore the burning feeling in his chest as well as the increasingly bad headache. Just don't think about it, just don't think about it...

Pain...he couldn't remember when he had last felt such agony. So this must be what he had always felt...

He opened his eyes, blinking in the sudden sunlight. Everything looked so foggy...All he could see were some faint figures and something red on the ground. Sweden frowned. Blood? Whose was it? The realization slowly dawned to him as he connected it to the numbing pain in his left arm, and he remembered what had happened.

Sweden grunted and tried to straighten up. The pain made him dizzy, but he couldn't let it bother him now. Taking care of it was far lower on his priority list than what was going on now...

He looked up and adjusted his glasses, hoping it would make the scenery less blurry. To his relief, after a brief moment everything started looking clearer. He could now see Russia and Finland standing not too far away. Russia's face was partially obscured by his scarf, and he couldn't make up his expression. Finland on the other hand looked pale and concerned. Russia has holding him from both his shoulders and the weight of his hands was pushing them down.

Sweden took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. His insides felt oddly cold.

He had failed.

"So, here we are again." Russia said, smiling. Sweden glared at him, wishing there'd be a way to wipe that smirk of his face. However, there was none. All he could do was stare and wait for him to continue.

"I'm getting bored of these wars...What do you say if I just keep Finland-kun this time around?" Russia turned his gaze away from him and smiled at the Finn in front of him.

Sweden opened his mouth before freezing, unable to come up with anything to say. He wasn't...serious? He desperately tried to catch Finland's gaze. The younger man looked so vulnerable when compared to the Russian man standing behind him. Finland soon spotted his gaze and stared back at him. He looked sad and soon bowed his head in resignation.

Sweden's stomach lurched.

He had never seen Finland give up hope before.

"Well, France won't be helping me with Turkey..." Russia continued after the prolonged silence. "so I'll just have him instead, da?" He tightened his grasp of Finland's shoulders. Finland winced, but didn't say anything. He still stared at the ground.

Sweden clenched his fists. Did Russia really think he'd just let him take Finland? ...but then again, what could he do about it? He was exhausted and couldn't go on fighting. He really would have to give up. But... The pain in his left arm increased and he struggled to keep his balance. Everything felt so foggy...

"I'll take good care of him." Russia suddenly said quietly.

Sweden blinked and stared at him. He had sounded almost...sincere.

He clutched his arm and cringed in pain. He didn't now how long he could stay up before he passed away. There was no way he could defeat Russia in this condition...there was only one option left, and it was to give up. He sighed and looked towards the sky and finally nodded, looking down again.

"Su-san..." Finland said quietly. Sweden wasn't able to recognize the tone of his voice.

So this is how it ends.

He could feel the last ounce of strength leave his body and staggered, nearly falling over. The world grew blurry again.

"Su-san!" Finland cried and tried to run to him, but couldn't free himself from the larger man's grasp. He turned towards Russia, still trying to wrench himself away. "Please...he's injured..." He said pleadingly.

Sweden grunted and looked up again to see Finland's face. He stopped attempting to free himself and stared back.

Sweden smiled weakly. Such beautiful eyes, even when they were filled with worry...He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Sry." He whispered.

Please forgive me.

His knees finally gave in and he collapsed onto the ground.

"SU-SAAAAAN!!"

When he had woken up, they had been long gone. All that had been left was the short but painful journey to the empty house...And the memories...

Sweden shook his head. He really had to stop thinking about it now. He bit his lip and continued to fold his clothes. The burning feeling had spread into his eyes too and he blinked rapidly to get rid of it.

He picked up an old brown tunic. Why was this still here? It was hard to believe he had actually been small enough to wear it. He started folding it, but stopped abruptly. His hand had brushed over something hard inside the tunic. Sweden turned it upside down round and shook it. Something small dropped out the tunic's pocket and onto the bed.

"Sweden?"

Norway walked to Sweden's bedroom and knocked on the door before opening it.

"Sweden? Are you here? Where do we keep-?" He asked, abruptly stopping mid-sentence and staring inside, amazed and shocked.

Sweden was sitting on the bed, holding his right hand out and eyes looking at something not there. Tears were softly streaming down his cheeks. He didn't seem to notice Norway had entered the room.

Norway didn't know how to react and only stood there, staring. He'd never seen Sweden cry before, not even when they had been kids.

"Sweden?" He took a step forward, unsure what to do. He could now see that Sweden was holding a small pinecone resting in his palm. He still didn t respond in any way nor showed any signs of having heard him.

Norway hesitated for a while before giving the taller man a soft pat on the back. He then left the room, feeling strangely distressed.

A/N: What? Oh, it slipped. Sorry.

Also, for some reason the last segment is from Norway's POV. =3 Oh well, he needs love too, especially since the next chapter is probably the last one with him in it. (Excluding cameos) Ehe.

So, the beginning of the 20th century is up next (yes, already ^^;). Thanks for reading and see you.