Chapter 8

Suomen uusi huomen

Finland's new tomorrow

The sun shone brightly outside, a slight wind blew in through the window that had been cracked open, people walked the streets as usual and Finland finally had the house almost all to himself for a while. He felt a bit guilty for having forced Uusimaa to all but give up her house for their family to live in for the duration of their stay and Diet work in Porvoo. The whole arrangement just reminded him why they all preferred to stay in their own houses whenever given the chance, much easier on the ears and no conflict of interests in where was the right place to do woodwork.

He leant back comfortably in his chair, turning the page on the small book in his hands. Finland liked reading although he would have preferred if he had some material more fitting for leisure-time reading available. Not that all the philosophy and enlightenment literature wasn't interesting or invigorating; he just sometimes wanted to think less. Anders Chydenius's thoughts on the trade and economywere absolutely fascinating and his writings on the rights of the farmers and equality filled Finland with pride but they still made for rather dry reading.

Of course he had a secondary motive for wanting something more riveting to read; he was doing his best not to think of Sweden.

His former overlord hadn't attempted to contact him even once, not since he switched sides. And who could blame Sweden for that? He wouldn't have contacted a traitor like himself either.

And he himself wasn't planning to initiate contact either, not when it was so crucial to keep his distance, for the sake of his future. At this point he was mostly certain he would stay with Russia but with the insanity once again taking over the world situations could change in the blink of an eye.

Funnily enough, for once he preferred the possibility of staying with Russia. While he didn't get even half the news he had previously got from Stockholm, the ones he did get weren't very promising. The changes that were taking place there were very much undesired and the things they said about his people – traitors, cowards and weaklings – were horrible. He played the best he could with the cards he was dealt and no one had any right to judge him for it as far as he was concerned.

Sweden had renounced him long before Finland had.

And all things considered he was – not okay, per se, but coping with it. He knew his treason had probably hurt Sweden and he hadn't wanted to do that, not really. But they were Nations (the feeling of having been acknowledged as one verbally had been unbelievable – he had actually hugged Russia, something he had never dared to do to Sweden in all the past centuries) and their actions were very much dictated by their people and history.

"Isoveli?"

He looked up from his book and smiled at his sister standing in the doorway. "What is it, Uusimaa?"

The girl shifted uneasily, glancing over her shoulder towards the front door. "Russia is here, asking for you."

Finland blinked in surprise. Why would Russia want to see him today? Things were under the control of what would probably very soon become his very first Senate and Finland himself really didn't have that much power... "Let him in," he instructed quickly, standing up and heading directly for the side cabinet; knowing from his recently restarted letter exchange with Estonia and the long periods of time he had spent with Russia recently that alcohol was an excellent way to stay on the other Nation's good side. A movement from the doorway interrupted him before he could do more than open the door.

"Greetings Финля́ндия," Russia smiled at his newest acquisition.

"Greetings Russia," he answered cheerfully over his shoulder, pulling out a half-full bottle and holding it up for a look, "Some pontikka?"

Russia tilted his head curiously, stepping into the room to peer at the bottle, "Is it vodka?" he seemed almost eager for a response and Finland smiled slightly.

"Home-burnt by yours truly," he replied, pouring a glass for both of them. Russia drank his down in one go, immediately asking for more.

"So... what brings you to my door?" Finland asked curiously after taking his first sip of the alcohol.

Russia hummed thoughtfully, swirling the drink around in his glass, "Do you still have people fighting in Sweden's army?" he asked instead of answering.

Finland licked his lips thoughtfully. "My people finished their last fight there two weeks ago, I've been told they've been freed from their duties."

Russia nodded in acceptance. "Are they coming home?"

"I... hope so," Finland admitted, not really knowing the answer. "It depends on how they'll be treated, I think."

Russia didn't acknowledge the roundabout inquiry but instead said something that Finland had both waited for eagerly and dreaded from the bottom of his heart.

"Sweden has proposed a peace treaty."

Finland's fingers twitched around his glass nervously and he took great care to keep his gaze on the liquid inside it. "… Am I to assume I'm staying with you?" he asked carefully. He didn't believe Sweden's thoughts on him were particularly heart-warming at the moment and Russia was honestly nice to him. Finland really liked his new freedom even if it was a lot of work.

"Of course you are," Russia said firmly, meeting the shorter Nation's eyes, "I just wanted to keep you posted and tell you where and when we will be signing the treaty, as is proper."

Finland nodded in acceptance, long used to such things. The highest-ranking provincial and regional personifications were always present when decisions were being made about them, even if they themselves had no say in how things were done. And that was usually the case with Finland; he was simply expected to show up with the personifications from his land who were the greatest points of concern for the negotiations, sit quietly while the Big Nations made the decisions and act accordingly. "Where and when?"

"Friedrichshafen starting next month."

His heart made a funny little jump at the name. He knew it from before, it was his town, no matter what it was called. "Fredrikshamn?" he breathed in wonder.

Russia's violet eyes softened the shorter Nation's wistfulness. "You miss your sister, да?" he asked quietly.

Finland nodded slowly, "Yes, but not as much as Norra-Karelen."

Russia chuckled. "No, probably not. But I want you to know one thing," he continued, face now more serious as he met Finland's gaze. "I understand that this situation is a bit… sensitive. You and your Provinces can skip the negotiations, as long as you come to the signing."

Finland released a breath he didn't even realise he had been holding, his eyes flickering to his feet. "I think I would prefer that. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Finland."

Russia's first meeting with Sweden in several years wasn't very heartfelt and he frankly speaking he wasn't very surprised about that. He had after all captured Finland again and he was keeping him this time too.

Sweden didn't seem to appreciate it.

"Du är död, Ryssland!" the Scandinavian hissed, hands clenching into tight fists. Russia felt pleasure at the rage displayed by a Nation who was generally regarded as totally unflappable.

"Нет, Sweden, if anyone here is dead, it's you," Russia said softly. It was true after all; Sweden's time of glory was well and truly over while Russia's growth was nowhere near ending. Old Nations and Empires always fall, sooner or later, no matter how strong they may have been in their glory days. "You've already lost your empire and Finland and deposed of your king; do not make this any more painful for yourself than it already is. You cannot do anything to me as things stand now, да?"

Sweden gritted his teeth and turned sharply on his heels, stalking over to the table covered in maps and other miscellaneous papers. He ignored Russia in favour of shuffling with them seemingly at random but Russia could see his old enemy's hands shaking and the lonely bead of sweat sliding down his temple. Sweden was more shaken than Russia had ever seen him.

"Why can't we draw the border at Kemi älv and Ounasjoki? Why would you want the eastern half of Lappland and parts of Västerbotten?" Sweden demanded sharply, ignoring Russia's mocking words, "Don't you have enough snow already?" he asked derisively as he pointed at the map spread across the table.

"For security," Russia answered, leaning his chin on his steepled fingers, "I can't have you looming over Finland from the north, you might attempt to take him back and he likes living with me. And the Каликс-Эльв makes good natural border to prevent that. " And his troops had made it that far, it would've only been fair to let him keep those lands.

Sweden's glare seemed to intensify but Russia had regarded himself as immune to it after all the wars the two of them had fought – at least ten as of today, and how do you properly count tribe conflicts anyway? – the Northern Crusades and the time under the rule of the Golden Horde – another Nation long past his height of power by now.

"Absolutely out of question," Sweden denied sharply. "You say you won't have me hover over Finland, and I'll certainly not have you hover over me."

Russia pursed his lips. "But most of the people in that region speak Finnish, correct?"

Sweden's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That does not matter, I'm not giving up that much of my territory to the likes of you."

Russia's smile was cold as he leant forward, his eyes flashing darkly. "You really have no say about that, do you Шве́ция?"

They had come to a standstill, neither of them willing to give an inch to the other. Sweden had just lost the worst war in his history and was ready to do anything to minimise his losses, while Russia simply revelled in his might, intent on proving it indisputably with this treaty. The peace talks stretched from days to weeks, with both the Nations and the humans bickering back and forth over the new border.

Then the Swedish main negotiator, von Stendigkt – whom Russia knew from the man's time as the Sweden's permanent diplomat in St. Petersburg – fell sick. Everyone knew that if the old man died, the negotiations would stretch even more and no one wanted that. They needed to reach a compromise and it was Russia's Tsar who proposed it to him in a private discussion.

"Are Турне-Эльв and Муониоэльвен good enough compromise for you?" Russia asked Sweden, standing a respectful distance away and pointing at the proposed line on the map. "Then no one's hovering anywhere."

The western Nation didn't protest this turn of events, content with his small victory for now. Sweden's reasons for protesting had been purely for his own self-interest because for everyday life, the northernmost parts of their lands held little importance. They were nigh impossible to inhabit, unless one counted Sápmi's nomadic reindeer herders and as it was, she had never obeyed any of their past borders anyway so her opinions hardly mattered.

Russia was used to negotiating treaties and he liked it when he was on the winning side of things, much easier to get his own demands through. It was a pity Sweden hadn't given up as much as he had wanted but at least he got a lot more than Sweden had been willing to give up. Now he would just have to somehow convince Sweden give up the Åland Archipelago, there was absolutely no way he was leaving such a nice strategic location to the westerner's hands. It would be an easy base to launch attacks on Finland, especially when he took into account all those little islands dotting the way between the mainland and the Archipelago.

Besides, he needed something to hold over Sweden's head... or point at his heart as it were.

He had managed to conquer the islands, there was no way he was giving up the perfect base to control all of the Baltic Sea.

And then there were those little details that would ensure Finland's compliance, ease of transition in the politics and general power structure and – most importantly – happiness. A thrilling hum of energy travelled through Russia's body at the thought. Finally, finally, he would have a proper friend, someone who liked him and whom he could talk to.

Finland didn't like treaties. Treaties generally didn't end well for him, especially not after Sweden's empire had collapsed almost a century ago. From his point of view, every treaty had been another step downhill towards a total destruction since then.

This time, however, he was unusually confident. He had technically been under Russia's control for almost a year now and he had been treated extremely well, all things considered. Even the Provinces had been fine with the changes, minimal as they had been. Things were good and given the fact that Russia had the upper hand in the whole thing and considering their deals made over the past year, Finland might very well walk out of this situation with a larger landmass than ever before, more freedom than he ever dreamed off and the potential for his people to be happier than they had ever been.

His only company for the journey to Hamina was Åland, the only Province whose fate in the Treaty was in question. Everyone else's futures were tied tightly to his own and thus were not needed for the final signing. The Archipelago was scowling darkly as he gazed around the town – Finland wasn't entirely sure if the glare was because of the situation or because Åland was unused to extended amount of riding.

Finland's own observations were more curious than annoyed as his gaze swept over the quaint wooden houses lining the streets up the hill. He felt rather relaxed and couldn't help wondering if Karjala was also in attendance, for he had no doubt she knew what was going on. There was no way she wouldn't keep an eye on all the traffic passing through her lands. Although knowing Russia she probably wasn't present, and was instead at her normal place of residence, in Viipuri.

The two of them met Russia at one Commandant's house, located near the centre of town. The taller Nation smiled brightly at the two of them, inviting them in for refreshments and accommodations before the next day's final formalities. Åland slipped away the first chance he was given, possibly to go to the harbour or even smoke out Sweden's accommodations (not that he actually cared), while Finland forced himself to socialise with Russia for a moment, trying to get the taller Nation to tell him the conditions of the treaty. He only got insufferable smiles in response to his inquiries and decided it would be prudent for him to take his leave as well.

He was starting to think again even though he tried not to. He tried not to think about how the next day would be the first time he would see Sweden since that day in Stockholm one and half years ago.

It was already late in the evening when he wandered down the streets, gazing in turns up at the cloudy sky or the beaten dirt of the street. He could smell the slightly salty whiff of the sea behind his back, in the south, the only sound he could discern was the crunching dirt beneath his Sunday shoes.

No matter how much he brooded or – as he did more recently, complained – the companionship he had shared with Sweden had been... comfortable and familiar, for the lack of better words. They had had their rough patches but not nearly as many as some other Nations had had, if the stories he had heard over the years and his own observations held any truth.

And now it was ending, just like all things came to an end at some point.

Finland didn't particularly like getting involved with Sweden's court – it tended to end badly and the nobles in Stockholm didn't particularly like him anyway – so when he was handed someone who the regency council wanted to get rid off, he had felt rather apprehensive. Sure, he wanted someone to keep an eye on things and stand by his interests while he fought for Sweden in the Holy Roman Empire's lands, but having it be someone who wasn't seen favourably by the court left him uneasy.

France's involvement in the war against the Catholics had afforded him a visit home – a huge relief as he had barely had any time for it, what with Sweden having him gallivanting all across Europe. Their forces were once again gaining momentum, properly for the first time since the King's death, so he had even less time than before. Sweden himself managed to escape the battlefield from time to time to have tea parties with his Girl King… (Not that Finland would have minded doing the same, she was intelligent and considerably better company than, say, France).

He shouldn't have worried because if Count Pietari Brahe was anything, he was efficient and Finland's head had never felt clearer. Sure, not everyone liked him – Sweden and his high officials among them – but Finland generally liked the Count, he took his job seriously and honestly asked Finland and his people if something needed fixing.

Then he went and fixed it in an almost brutally efficient manner that sometimes left people complaining; 'the new post is too much trouble to maintain' even if it worked better than ever.

Of course, the fact that the Count also tried to learn at least basic Finnish helped to appeal him to the nation. He had been rather sad to see him go when he was named a riksdrots again.

As the Count had said, Finland had been quite pleased with him.

Soon after he had been recalled to the battlefield under the orders of Field Marshal Torstenson and he had returned gladly now that he knew things at home were well or even better than they had been in the past.

Their war cry rang out as the cavalry unit charged towards opposing army, pulling out his first pistol, taking aim and firing. The Nation righted his posture on the saddle a bit, his hold of the reigns tightening, before he fired his second pistol. Finland was grinning madly as he pulled out his sword and his sturdy horse trampled their first victim, amidst the cries of the soldiers. As he pulled his sword out of the shoulder of the enemy soldier, he barely felt the still warm blood splatter over him like rain, staining his horse's flank red.

For a moment he lost himself in the mass of bodies and the cries of the dying. Excitement and blood lust coursed through his body, generating a frenzy of movement that somehow seemed to last forever. Everything seemed sharper, more in focus as he sliced through the soldiers, their dying voices echoing in his ears before falling silent.

Finally the swarm of bodies seemed to lessen, leaving him and Ukko standing, panting, in the middle of the circle of calm among the chaos.

"A horribile... Haccapaelitorum agmine... libera nos, Domine," a scared voice gasped out behind him and as Finland turned to look, he saw a child - maybe eight summers in age at most, with wide blue eyes and light blond hair - crossing himself as he stumbled backwards from him.

As if that would do anything on the battlefield.

Finland straightened in his saddle, adjusting his grip of his sword, causing the younger Nation to take a step back in fear and stumble a bit.

"Holy Roman Empire," Finland mused, smiling slightly, staring down at the lad, who seemed to pale even more as he realised the blood covered, violet eyed young man before him was a Nation - older and apparently more dangerous than himself. "I didn't know you were that scared of me," he grinned.

He was actually astonished they hadn't run across each other earlier, they had already been at war for eleven years.

The Empire took a deep breath and lifted his chin, trying to look imposing and fearless. But just as he was opening his mouth to retort, the retreating soldiers pulled him along, away from the advancing enemy. Finland was just about to urge Ukko on after the retreating army when a call behind him stopped him.

"Finland."

The Nation turned and grinned. "Sweden," he said in greeting.

The other raised an eyebrow, taking in the shorter man's blood spattered wide collar that used to be white, the stained sword and leather armour and the slightly panting horse. "Enjoying yourself?"

The young man blinked in surprise at the question and looked down at himself, causing his a bit too large helmet tip a bit, hiding his forehead, before he pushed it back into its proper position. "Oh," he hummed, "actually, yes."

He looked up and positively beamed at Sweden atop his higher horse, that looked considerably more regal than Finland's smaller and sturdier stallion - the very one the Germans had been laughing at when he first showed up in the battlefields. Shows what they know. "Holy Roman Empire prayed for the Lord 'to deliver them from the terrible army of hakkapeliitta.'"

Sweden actually snorted, his lips twitching in a terrifying manner - which Finland recognised from experience as an attempt not to smile. "They're rather terrifying," he agreed. "I might get more time to fight if I left you home."

Finland huffed and sheathed his sword. "Don't you dare. I'll fight, I'm not anyone's housewife."

Sweden hmm'd in response, raising an eyebrow meaningfully at him.

"Don't you 'hmm' at me! I don't look like a girl!"

Sweden didn't really know what to think when Finland and Åland stepped into the meeting room on Russia's heels. His little brother was scowling and his former vassal looked remarkably calm in spite of the clear signs of nervousness, biting his lip and tugging his sleeve to better hide his wrists. How many times had he seen Finland do the same in the past?

Too many to be forgotten about but could he really act any other way than cold indifference? He had long exhausted his hate and anger arguing with Russia and their officials about the final terms of the treaty. He just felt so empty and he was, inexplicitly, wary of the future in a way he hadn't been for a long time. How would he and his country function from now on, after losing Finland?

And he still wasn't any clearer on how he felt about Finland's betrayal.

He tried to catch the shorter Nation's eye, in vain, before meeting Åland's worried, scared and angry grey eyes. He didn't have anything encouraging to offer his little brother and Sweden turned his head away in shame. He felt an uncertain hand touch his upper arm and he glanced down, to the side, meeting the brown eyes eastern Lappland. She tried to offer him an encouraging smile, but it seemed somehow frail. A slight whine from her arms had him scratching Blomma's ear.

When this was over, he would be leaving Fredrikshamn alone, leaving behind Finland and all the eastern Provinces. His land would be reduced to half of what it used to be, when he shared it with Finland.

It would get better with time, he hoped. He had lost land before. But not anything that had been a part of him for so long.

Russia clapped his hands together, smiling brightly at the people in the room. "Now," he said, "we have a treaty to sign."

Sweden scowled darkly but nodded, all but ready to sign the stupid paper already and just leave. He didn't want to prolong this farce any longer than he had to; he had better things to do in reorganising his government and trying to forget this fiasco ever happened.

Russia turned formally to Finland, clearly eager to explain exactly what had been agreed on between the two Nations. "In addition to details about you, we also talked about some international articles which are not important or affect you much, so we'll not go over them now. Firstly; the new border that has been agreed on is as follows; from Sea of Åland to Gulf of Bothnia and along the Tornio and Muonio Rivers."

Finland's eyes widened slightly as his gaze shot quickly to Åland, standing at his side looking absolutely crushed, and to eastern Lappland standing nervously to the side with Blomma. He seemed totally astonished about this turn of events and opened and closed his mouth a few times as if he were a stranded fish. It was unusual, if not totally unheard of; Sweden certainly had never heard of a conquered region gaining more territory. He motioned for the Province to come forward and she offered a nervous smile to Finland who grinned nervously in response, seemingly uncertain how to react.

Russia's smile seemed to widen. "Be sure to welcome a new member of our family," he said, waving his hand at the girl and the dog.

Blomma – utterly unconcerned by the tense atmosphere – started yipping happily at the sight of Finland. He chuckled a bit, relaxing as he took the excitable dog from his new sister.

"Hei, Kukkis, it's been a while," he murmured softly to the white puppy, who licked his cheek happily and Lappland relaxed a bit. Finland offered the girl a smile, looking up from Blomma. "Lappi, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

Eastern Lappland nodded. "Nice to meet you...?" It sounded more like a question than a proper greeting but Finland didn't seem to mind as he handed the puppy back to her, returning his attention to Russia, who had surprisingly let the two greet each other in peace. Lappland glanced at Sweden, looking relieved that Finland had seemed to welcome her warmly, if a tad uncertain.

"In addition," Russia continued as if nothing had happened, "All of your people are automatically freed from their pledge to the King of Sweden and my army will return peacefully through your lands back to mine, relying on our own supplies. All prisoners of war will be returned within three months with no monetary ransom required, but if they're unable to return within that timeframe due to illness or some such, there will be no follow-up consequences; there will also be no trials for those whose integrity has come to question."

Finland seemed to relax and smile more and more as Russia listed the points in the treaty. The last one seemed to be particularly relieving, Sweden thought darkly. Of course Russia wouldn't want the people who helped to cement his power to be punished but why did Finland seem so happy about it?

And why must they go over it in such detail anyway? Finland could just read it later, right? Russia probably just wanted to humiliate Sweden even more in his loss.

Oh how the mighty have fallen. Ett liv för rikets väl, aldrig återvända – a life for the kingdom's sake, never to return.

"All old debts, by Finns to Swedes and Swedes to Finns must be paid in the agreed schedule. All trade between you and Sweden is to continue as your people see fit. And, most importantly, we've agreed on a three year change period during which time those on your land who are of Swedish descent and those on Sweden's lands who are of Finnish descent, are allowed to choose in which country they wish to live in," Finland's eyes widened in shock, actually letting out an astonished gasp and Sweden turned his gaze away, bitter.

"Tha-that's..." Finland stammered, before clearing his throat. "Thank you, Russia, Sweden," he said firmly, except for the slight waver in his voice at the last name, "This means a lot to me."

Russia clapped him on the shoulder, setting the treaty back on the table and signing it with flourish, handing the pen to Sweden who had said nothing during the whole meeting. He felt numb and he really had nothing to say. Finland clearly felt this was all for the best and that... actually hurt.

He had thought he was long past hurting over such things.

He signed his name on the paper, knowing that things would never be the same anymore.

The Provinces slipped out of the room at Finland's nod as Russia walked over to clap him on the shoulder again, smiling brightly at Finland's dazed expression. Sweden stood frozen as Russia congratulated his official new vassal who offered a slight smile in response, before the eastern Nation stepped out of the room, Finland just on his heels, before he finally regained his ability to speak.

"Fi-Finland."

The shorter Nation looked over his shoulder, meeting Sweden's tired eyes. "Yes?" he asked softly.

The Swede hesitated for a moment, his hand raised, before stepping forward and settling both of them on Finland's shoulders, oddly reminiscent of the scene a year and a half earlier in Stockholm when they had seen last. Sweden's green eyes searched the other's violet ones for something – and seeing only confusion – his grip tightened momentarily.

He knew what he wanted to say but he was not good with words, never really had been. He was good with facts, science, reasons and debating (probably why deciding things sometimes took so long)... not feelings. And his generally taciturn nature made speaking even harder. And he knew that Finland had never understood him completely.

He didn't know when he would see the other Nation next and no matter his feelings concerning the heartrending betrayal… he had to tell his true thoughts now.

"Finland... du är som min bror," the man said softly, stopping for a moment, looking for... acceptance, maybe, in Finland's eyes. When no response was forthcoming, he continued, "Jag... skall aldrig glömma dig," Sweden's face twisted into an expression some would have thought was rage but was actually grief and sorrow, "Fö-förlåt mig..." Sweden's head fell, as if wishing to hide the tears trying to escape.

Finland's face relaxed into a sad smile as he raised his hand, ruffling the other's short blond hair gently. "I will… with time. You're... " he hesitated, "like a brother to me as well. And in spite of everything... thank you."

Sweden took a shuddering breath but nodded and straightened, looking almost as unruffled as he normally did if not for the tightening of his jaw.

"Go, Russia's waiting," he said gruffly nodding towards the door behind the shorter Nation's back where they could both sense the other Nation standing, waiting for his new vassal.

"Näkemiin, Ruotsi," Finland said quietly and hurried off to join his new mainland.

Sweden was left standing in the room, alone.

A/N:
Chapter title: part of a line from the song Karjalan jääkärien marssi (Fin. The March of Karelian Jaegers), lyrics by Elli Hällström. Yes, I'm branching out!
Puhdetyö (Fin.): doesn't really have a proper translation, but generally means 'spare-time crafts;' handcrafts one can do when there's no outside work to be done or when it can't be done. Includes cutlery, furniture, tools, vehicles made from a variety of materials such as timber, bone, leather, metal, roots, tree bark, etc. These were a common way to spend time during winters or in trenches.
Anders Chydenius wrote many manuscripts that were very liberal and brave for their time; some of his writings on equal voting rights predating the French Revolution and some of his economical writings predating Adam Smith's.
Pontikka (Fin.): moonshine; home-burnt Finnish distilled beverage. Nowadays illegal to distil.
Friedrichshafen (Ger.): Hamina/Fredrikshamn (Fin./Swe.) fell under Russian control after the Treaty of Åbo 1743 and was renamed.
By this point you're probably wondering about Finland's tendency to use Swedish and Finnish names almost interchangeably. Back in the day, the elite spoke Swedish and thus Finnish was considered a minority language. Until 1863, Swedish was the main language in all official capacities in Finland; most towns had official Swedish names and so on. What this means for my writing is this: Finland thinks in Finnish and uses the Finnish names with Finnish speakers. With the others, he uses mainly Swedish names.
Du är död, Ryssland (Swe.): You're dead, Russia.
нет /Nyet (Rus.): No.
Lappland, Västerbotten (Swe.): the two northernmost Swedish Provinces, Lappland comprised both Swedish and Finnish Lapland until this treaty.
Ounasjoki (Fin.): Kemi River's (which was viewed as the Swedish-Finnish border of sorts) largest side river.
Каликс-Эльв /Kaliks-El'v (Rus.): Kalixälven/Kalixjoki (Swe./Fin. old Finnish name Kainuunjoki) Kalix River
Sweden's favourite war opponents were (in the following order, number of official peace treaties in the brackets) Denmark(13), Russia(10) and Poland(7 – except that this can also be counted as a ten because one war was actually four wars or something?). And that's not counting the conflicts that Swedish tribes had with Danes and Russians before the Middle Ages (according to some sources those would raise the number of wars to 36 and 33 respectively at most).
Finnish in northern Sweden: after the separation in 1809, it developed into what's today called Meänkieli (lit. Our language); I've heard it once and read it once and I could understand just about everything (95%).
Турне-Эльв (Rus.): Tornionjoki/Torne älv/Tornio River (Fin./Swe./Eng.)
Муониоэльвен (Rus.): Muonionjoki/Muonio älv/Muonio River (Fin./Swe./Eng.)
The aforementioned rivers are the natural border between Sweden and Finland even today.
Sapmí; the lands of the Sami people comprising of the Swedish, Norwegian and Finnish Lapland and the Kola Peninsula in Russia. And no, Sapmí is not the same as Lapland; I would compare her to the original tribes in the Americas, before colonisation by the Europeans and the birth of "modern" Nations.
Pietari Brahe (Per Brahe the Younger to others, he wrote his name as Pietari in all documents that were in Finnish) was the Governor General of Finland 1637-1640 and 1648-1654 and made big governmental, educational and social changes, founded about ten new towns and helped to establish the post service and the Royal Academy of Turku/Kungliga Akademien i Åbo/Turun Akatemia (1640-1828, it was Sweden's third/Finland's first university). His time was called 'kreivin aika' (Count's Time) and even nowadays the phrase 'kreivin aikaan' means that something happened in the most opportune/best possible moment. Neither Axel Oxenstierna or Queen Christina liked him.
Riksdrots (Swe.): Seneschal of the Realm or Lord High Steward depending on the translation. (Fin. valtaneuvos/valtakunnandrotsi)
The Battle of Breitenfeld 1642 edition was rather devastating for the HRE forces, Emperor Ferdinand III was suddenly much more open to peace negotiations. And HRE is a teenager because chibis confound me. Finland is physically about 17-ish at this point.
Lappland (Swe.) Lappi (Fin.): Lapland, the new Province!
Blomma (Swe.) Kukkis (Fin.): flower; shortened from Blodigblommaägg/Verikukkamuna respectively; Blood-Flower Egg, Chi-Mamire Hanatamago. Please note that in this case muna (egg) is slang for a penis/testes, as it often is in Finland.
Treaty of Fredrikshamn was signed on September 19 1809 and the things I listed were included i the treaty though I paraphrased a lot and left all that international stuff out.
Ett liv för rikets väl, aldrig återvända (Swe.): is a modified and not-really-sneaky linedrop from Sabaton's song Ruina Imperii. (Swedish historical heavy metal, their album Carolus Rex can be summed up as "The Rise and Fall of Swedish Empire")
There used to be joke about Swedes debating on an uninhabited island in my old Swedish book but I threw it away after I graduated. (Finns built a sauna in the same joke, it was a classic "a Norwegian, a Finn and a Swede –" joke, although this one had a Dane in it too...)
Du är som min bror. Jag skall aldrig glömma dig. Förlåt mig. (Swe.): You're like my brother. I'll never forget you. Forgive me.
Näkemiin, Ruotsi. (Fin.): Goodbye, Sweden.