I would like to thank you guys for all of your marvelous reviews. You are real dears. This chapter will be in the perspective of Sweden. I doubt in the future I will write many chapters in his perspective. He thinks too much and talks too little. I had to trim a lot out so it didn't get wearying. Anyway, I hope you like the chapter.
From the gate, Sweden watched them. He watched as they climbed the hill, measuring their stride against the climbs he had made before. They were slow, hesitant, helping the other two along, the younger ones, the children, his children. Or at least, they should be his children. Sweden straightened the high collar of his long, blue coat, urging it to his chin. Though the sun shone, the day was cold. The ground about lay grey and naked; the sky had not yet given it snow.
They were climbing, slowly. He understood, they were not eager to give up the children, but still it irked him, all this waiting. The delay could not prevent the inevitable. He had other things to do, many other things.
They walked side by side in a row, as if to challenge him. They looked larger that way, but it did not frighten him. He had learned how useless fear could be, especially now when everyone was afraid of him. They looked at him with empty eyes, spoke to him with empty words, jeered him with empty threats. It had become a pattern.
He wondered sometimes why they could not all be his friends. What was it about him that made others dislike him? Was there something wrong with him? He had not even been able to remain in his brother's house, but no, that had Denmark's fault, not his. He would not live under roof of such a tyrant, even if they shared blood.
And yet why had his other brothers chosen to stay? Iceland well, he was too young and attached to Norway, to leave without him, but Norway, why? Sweden could not understand. He had grown up admiring and adoring his brave and beautiful brother. Now, he only thought of him in scorn. Norway was but a coward who played to Denmark's whims.
"Mr. Sweden!" a joyous cry broke out to the left of him, "Mr. Sweden, they are almost here!"
For a moment, Sweden turned his eyes away from the climbers and let them rest on Finland. Finland was wriggling with excitement, his skin flushed, sweating in the cold. His smile looked like it might break his face it was so wide. Sweden wanted to reach out and kiss him; Finland was just so cute when he was happy, but he could not. Not even if Finland was his wife. Not now. He needed to focus on the situation at hand.
"May I please, please, please, go down to them?" Finland begged.
"No," Sweden replied.
"Please?"
"No," Sweden said firmly, "I no wanting you to leave the yard."
Finland sighed; then a flicker of rebellion set fire to his violet eyes. He took the tiniest step forward. Sweden seized his arm.
"No want you to get hurt," Sweden scolded.
Finland pouted childishly.
"Please?"
"No, Finland." Sweden pulled Finland against him, pressing his back against his chest. Finland's body was so warm against him, warm and alive. He could hear Finland's heart shouting, his arms and legs tense with vigor. The boy was strong. He had grown up like a wild creature in the forests of Finland. Many years ago, Sweden had feared the woodland wizard whose bow sang death, whose arrows performed it, but now he knew no fear. He was master.
Panting and looking displeased, Poland and Lithuania reached the top of the hill. Estonia and Latvia were close behind them, clinging to each other.
"Like why you have your house on like such a big hill?" Poland asked, between deep draughts of air, "that's like what I wanna know."
"M'like hills," Sweden said, awakening from his thoughts. He did not let go of Finland.
Poland just glared. Then as an afterthought he tossed his head.
"You'll be good to them, won't you?" Lithuania said. He reached out and stroked Latvia's shoulder.
"Ja," Sweden said, "treat them like family."
"Like family?" Poland said, "I'll bet you will, you tall, blond, scary-faced Swede. Like that's no reassurance, like you better not be beatin' up on them."
Beaten them up? Sweden looked at the two blond boys, who were now entangled in Lithuania's arms. Lithuania was planting good-bye kisses on their sweet faces.
Why would he hurt his own children? Did they think him a bad person?
Feeling sad, Sweden held tighter to Finland, who squirmed uncomfortably in his arms.
"Please, let go," Finland whispered.
Sweden pretended not to hear.
"Well, have you?" Poland shot out. He was tired of waiting for an answer.
"Polska," Lithuania said softly. He looked warily at Sweden.
Anger was starting to seep into the Swede's blood. After all, he was trying his best to be a good father that did merit him some respect, right? This oaf had no right to come charging in, calling him a monster.
"Go," Sweden commanded. He released Finland and pointed in the direction they had come.
"I'm not fin…" Poland began.
"I told ya to go," Sweden said coldly.
Poland folded his arms.
"Well, I like told you I am not finished."
Biting his lip, to keep back curses, Sweden took a step forward. Poland shrank behind Lithuania, who paled and placed a hand on the hilt of his knife. Sweden could hear the sound of another knife being unsheathed. It took him a few seconds to realize it was Finland's.
Well, would you care to tell me what you think? Or perhaps, provide some ideas. I desire very much to know your thoughts on this. Thank you.