silent&cold [1a/1]
anonymous
February 8 2010, 20:19:19 UTC
Okay, so, I messed a bit with what a nation can or will feel about their people and incident happening in this thing. My headcanon is… still rather vague about it. I think it’s something unconscious - shows up in dreams, feelings and such, but a nation isn’t always directly involved in what his or her people are doing, even if they somehow feel it. Does it make sense?
Sorry. Doesn’t for me either.
Also, this is not so much history as plain H/C, really. I’m sorry if this is not exactly what anon wanted. This is anon's first fill, so she's kinda nervous... I hope you enjoy it anyway!
Here goes!
--- silent&cold ---
On a late night -or very early morning- of September, in 1994, Estonia woke up cold.
The night’s temperatures were nothing out of the ordinary, not really - it was autumn, the leaves had changed colours, and winter was slowly arriving, but Estonia had lived in Russia’s house long enough to be accustomed to frosty temperatures. Tallinn wasn’t exactly known for its warmth, either.
That night, though, was different. Estonia felt absolutely, utterly frozen.
When he had gone to bed - after hours and hours of working on all the papers and numbers a newly-independent nation had to struggle through, he had felt fine. Content, almost, with the progress that had been made, his throat barely itching from the cold his course towards self-determination had left him with.
But just barely minutes before one, he had suddenly woken up, shivering and…
Was that his head, hurting so much?
Oh dear god yes it was. A blinding stab of pain pain pain on the back of his head brought tears to his eyes and made his lungs constrict.
Oh dear, precious god, what was that?
He should… he should call his boss, his brothers, someone to ask if something happened -he was cold, so cold, what could it be? But he couldn’t even open his eyes, just stay immobile, curled up and shivering on the bed, sobbing as the sudden migraine quickly overtook his senses, then his reason.
After an hour of agony -felt longer, so much longer-, Estonia lost consciousness, and dreamed of deep waters and grey clouds, skies and seas merging together with a child’s piercing shriek.
---
In the morning of the same late September day, Estonia woke up coughing.
His head was still hurting, and his throat was raw. He was still cold -it had taken all the determination his past had build in him to get up from under the covers, open the wardrobe and pull on a sweatshirt.
Then another one.
He was still cold.
Is this what Russia feels all the time? he couldn’t help but wonder.
Then he coughed again, put on his glasses, and had the vague idea of getting a cup of coffee. But his whole body hurt, the pain from his head making his legs shaky and his arms weak, and Estonia didn’t think his stomach could handle anything right now.
If this pitiful morning had happened ten years ago, he wouldn’t have worried about it - he hadn’t felt healthy - or right- for a long while, but things were different now, weren’t they? He hadn’t messed anything up with the numbers last night - he was sure of it, he had checked twice, three times on the more tricky ones. It couldn’t be the economy, he was assured of it. Numbers, money was something -the only thing? - Estonia had always had full confidence in himself about.
Then what was it? It felt wrong, like something was mis-
Oh dear god.
The ship.
The MS Estonia had been a grand, beautiful ship - the biggest he had, the symbol of his -no, not just his, all of theirs- fights.
But she was gone. And with her, so many of his people. Lost, frozen, fading in the deep black waters of the Baltic sea.
It was hard to breathe.
Estonia didn’t realise he had been shivering so much until his legs forced him to sit back down on his bed.
silent&cold [1b/1]
anonymous
February 8 2010, 20:20:12 UTC
Finland called. The sun was barely up, his own boss hadn’t bothered to contact him yet, but Finland called, all soft voice and sympathetic tones, I’m sorry and Are you alright?.
He was at Sweden’s house -staying over?- and probably had known what had happened before Estonia even realized it himself.
A lot of the ship’s passengers had been Sweden’s, after all, more than Estonia’s.
He should pay a visit. Apologize. The crew was his, the ship was his. If anything bad had to happen -like it often did for him-, the victims should have been his, too, and his only. Other nations did not need to suffer for him, with him; his brothers had, for so long, too long, but he thought that was over - it had to be.
Yes. He would need to apologize, somehow.
---
Later, when the sun was already as high as it would go, Estonia showed up at Sweden’s doorstep. He was still hurting. Still cold. Still coughing, but he smothered those on his sleeve. He had known Finland for long, so very long, and he knew how his Northern neighbour was when it came to the health of those he cared about.
All things considered, though, it felt good, to have a friend like Finland. A friend who knew him, cared about him, loved him.
Almost more than cold, Russia’s house had been so lonely.
When Finland opened the door, his bright violet eyes were bruised by a long morning but warm with affection.
He probably said a lot - Finland did that, he talked, talked for two people, whether he was with Estonia or with Sweden.
That day, he talked for three.
---
There were no sounds coming from Sweden’s bedroom, except for a few coughs from time to time. The door was locked.
The coffee Finland made was warm, and it smelled wonderful. Estonia tasted it, hesitantly at first. The beverage burned his tongue, but it felt good. Finland had put cinnamon in it - Estonia was distantly touched by the gesture. He loved cinnamon, the smell the colour and the taste.
Finland rubbed his shoulders, ten or fifteen seconds of closeness and affection, before going up the stairs to knock at Sweden’s door.
Estonia caught the gist of the conversation, even if it wasn’t his language - or Russia’s - and winced.
He didn’t think he’d ever heard Sweden sound like that. But then again, he hadn’t ever listened to Sweden much, had he? Not much effort had been made, on either side.
A few moments later, Sweden joined him at the kitchen table. His footsteps were surprisingly quiet, for a man of his size and bulk.
Not that he looked like much at the moment, in his pristine pyjamas, his eyes small and tired on his pale face. Shoulders rounded movement slow, as if his whole body was aching.
It probably was.
Wordlessly - because Finland wasn’t here, he didn’t know what to say - Estonia handed Sweden the coffee cup left for him.
Wordlessly, Sweden accepted. Their eyes met, their hands touched. Estonia shivered, again - not because of the once-frightening gaze, pupils like black dots lost in stormy blue skies, was fixed on him, but because the hands were cold, so cold.
Estonia told him he’d make them warm again. He would, he just needed to find out how. Sweden just shook his head. He didn’t let go of his hands.
---
They drank in silence. Finland must have come by, to check on them; Hanatamago, too. Estonia had felt the wet muzzle of the small dog on his ankle. Somehow, their empty cups where filled again, and again.
After the third time, Finland shook his head and made tea instead.
silent&cold [1c/1]
anonymous
February 8 2010, 20:21:26 UTC
The sun set early - too early. Somehow, they found themselves in the living room, on the couch, sitting close. Estonia couldn’t help but feel bad. He should have been home, in Tallinn, with his people. His brothers must have been worried sick - they always were when he didn’t answer his phone, it was so unlike him.
Russia probably called, too, but Estonia wouldn’t call back. Russia had lost a few people as well, but the large nation was just so numb, still even now, that Estonia doubted his sympathies would have been honest.
Maybe they would have been, but he didn’t feel like finding out, so he wouldn’t, not for now.
He rose to his feet, ready to go home. He wasn’t coughing so much anymore, his lungs didn’t feel as small, and he had stopped shivering from underneath the three sweaters. He would be fine, he assured Finland. He lived through much, much worse, he assured himself, quietly, in his mind.
Finland nodded, readjusted the blanket around Sweden’s shoulders - but Sweden shook his head. After those hours spent in silence and coffee, Estonia was starting to understand the taller nation better.
So he stayed, and fell asleep, warm and not shivering anymore against Sweden’s chest, rocked gently by the other’s even breathing like soft, calm waves.
---
On the evening of September 27th, 1994, the ship MS Estonia left the port of Tallinn, in Estonia, to cross to Stockholm, Sweden. At around 1 that night, it got in trouble and sank. Of it’s 989 passengers and crew, only 138 were rescued. The rest died, either from drowning (hence the coughing), or from hypothermia (hence the shivering), as the water temperature was around 10°C. OF all the victims, 501 were Swedes, and 285 Estonians. There were also passengers from other nationalities, including Finns, Russians, Latvians and Lithuanians.
No children under 12 survived.
The Estonia is still under the sea today, and there are laws forbidding diving in the area when she sank.
On another note… I have no idea how they fell asleep with so much caffeine in their bloodstream. Finland must have slipped them something. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Re: silent&cold [1c/1]
anonymous
February 8 2010, 21:13:11 UTC
Anon here remembers the accident. And wants to say, aww. :')
Thank you for not making Finland be all about Sweden, when Estonia needs attention too. And that bit about how Russia might have been sympatethic, if Estonia had had got his call - that was sweet.
Oh anon this was just lovely. So quiet and sad and so them...both so stoic and solid and not saying much even in the best of times. But...I don't think that there needed to be words between them here they gathered their comfort just by being together.
Re: silent&cold [1c/1]
anonymous
February 9 2010, 01:37:20 UTC
Okay. Let's see. One: this is infinitely better than anything this anon could ever have written, so she's glad she didn't try. Two: It's wonderful. Three: It's just what it needed to be.
I'd offer cake, but that doesn't feel enough. So. How about the internet?
(You do get cake for using Estonia's POV, however.)
Re: silent&cold [1c/1]
anonymous
February 9 2010, 15:16:14 UTC
This Finnish anon remembers the accident well (and being a sensitive seven-year-old back then, had nightmares about it for years...)
*showers author!anon with lots and lots of love* Thank you. It was a lovely, lovely fill. So warm and gentle (despite the cold, ahem). And I love your description of the three together. Oh and the effect the accident had on the nations makes perfect sense to me. I think you did a great job describing Estonia's pains and feelings.
Also there simply is NOT enough fic about Estonia. (sob my second fav. character) So thank you so much.
author!anon
anonymous
February 25 2010, 07:06:51 UTC
Ah~ Wow! So unexpected! Thank you so much for all the positive comments! This was my first Hetalia fic ever, and not even in my first language, so I'm really, really glad for the feedback. I'll try to write more, when I have the time! :)
Maybe with Estonia again. I hadn't really thought about him before picking this up, but I definetly love him now. ♥ And he does need more love!
Sorry. Doesn’t for me either.
Also, this is not so much history as plain H/C, really. I’m sorry if this is not exactly what anon wanted. This is anon's first fill, so she's kinda nervous... I hope you enjoy it anyway!
Here goes!
---
silent&cold
---
On a late night -or very early morning- of September, in 1994, Estonia woke up cold.
The night’s temperatures were nothing out of the ordinary, not really - it was autumn, the leaves had changed colours, and winter was slowly arriving, but Estonia had lived in Russia’s house long enough to be accustomed to frosty temperatures. Tallinn wasn’t exactly known for its warmth, either.
That night, though, was different. Estonia felt absolutely, utterly frozen.
When he had gone to bed - after hours and hours of working on all the papers and numbers a newly-independent nation had to struggle through, he had felt fine. Content, almost, with the progress that had been made, his throat barely itching from the cold his course towards self-determination had left him with.
But just barely minutes before one, he had suddenly woken up, shivering and…
Was that his head, hurting so much?
Oh dear god yes it was. A blinding stab of pain pain pain on the back of his head brought tears to his eyes and made his lungs constrict.
Oh dear, precious god, what was that?
He should… he should call his boss, his brothers, someone to ask if something happened -he was cold, so cold, what could it be? But he couldn’t even open his eyes, just stay immobile, curled up and shivering on the bed, sobbing as the sudden migraine quickly overtook his senses, then his reason.
After an hour of agony -felt longer, so much longer-, Estonia lost consciousness, and dreamed of deep waters and grey clouds, skies and seas merging together with a child’s piercing shriek.
---
In the morning of the same late September day, Estonia woke up coughing.
His head was still hurting, and his throat was raw. He was still cold -it had taken all the determination his past had build in him to get up from under the covers, open the wardrobe and pull on a sweatshirt.
Then another one.
He was still cold.
Is this what Russia feels all the time? he couldn’t help but wonder.
Then he coughed again, put on his glasses, and had the vague idea of getting a cup of coffee. But his whole body hurt, the pain from his head making his legs shaky and his arms weak, and Estonia didn’t think his stomach could handle anything right now.
If this pitiful morning had happened ten years ago, he wouldn’t have worried about it - he hadn’t felt healthy - or right- for a long while, but things were different now, weren’t they? He hadn’t messed anything up with the numbers last night - he was sure of it, he had checked twice, three times on the more tricky ones. It couldn’t be the economy, he was assured of it. Numbers, money was something -the only thing? - Estonia had always had full confidence in himself about.
Then what was it? It felt wrong, like something was mis-
Oh dear god.
The ship.
The MS Estonia had been a grand, beautiful ship - the biggest he had, the symbol of his -no, not just his, all of theirs- fights.
But she was gone. And with her, so many of his people. Lost, frozen, fading in the deep black waters of the Baltic sea.
It was hard to breathe.
Estonia didn’t realise he had been shivering so much until his legs forced him to sit back down on his bed.
--
Reply
He was at Sweden’s house -staying over?- and probably had known what had happened before Estonia even realized it himself.
A lot of the ship’s passengers had been Sweden’s, after all, more than Estonia’s.
He should pay a visit. Apologize. The crew was his, the ship was his. If anything bad had to happen -like it often did for him-, the victims should have been his, too, and his only. Other nations did not need to suffer for him, with him; his brothers had, for so long, too long, but he thought that was over - it had to be.
Yes. He would need to apologize, somehow.
---
Later, when the sun was already as high as it would go, Estonia showed up at Sweden’s doorstep. He was still hurting. Still cold. Still coughing, but he smothered those on his sleeve. He had known Finland for long, so very long, and he knew how his Northern neighbour was when it came to the health of those he cared about.
All things considered, though, it felt good, to have a friend like Finland. A friend who knew him, cared about him, loved him.
Almost more than cold, Russia’s house had been so lonely.
When Finland opened the door, his bright violet eyes were bruised by a long morning but warm with affection.
He probably said a lot - Finland did that, he talked, talked for two people, whether he was with Estonia or with Sweden.
That day, he talked for three.
---
There were no sounds coming from Sweden’s bedroom, except for a few coughs from time to time. The door was locked.
The coffee Finland made was warm, and it smelled wonderful. Estonia tasted it, hesitantly at first. The beverage burned his tongue, but it felt good. Finland had put cinnamon in it - Estonia was distantly touched by the gesture. He loved cinnamon, the smell the colour and the taste.
Finland rubbed his shoulders, ten or fifteen seconds of closeness and affection, before going up the stairs to knock at Sweden’s door.
Estonia caught the gist of the conversation, even if it wasn’t his language - or Russia’s - and winced.
He didn’t think he’d ever heard Sweden sound like that. But then again, he hadn’t ever listened to Sweden much, had he? Not much effort had been made, on either side.
A few moments later, Sweden joined him at the kitchen table. His footsteps were surprisingly quiet, for a man of his size and bulk.
Not that he looked like much at the moment, in his pristine pyjamas, his eyes small and tired on his pale face. Shoulders rounded movement slow, as if his whole body was aching.
It probably was.
Wordlessly - because Finland wasn’t here, he didn’t know what to say - Estonia handed Sweden the coffee cup left for him.
Wordlessly, Sweden accepted. Their eyes met, their hands touched. Estonia shivered, again - not because of the once-frightening gaze, pupils like black dots lost in stormy blue skies, was fixed on him, but because the hands were cold, so cold.
Estonia told him he’d make them warm again. He would, he just needed to find out how. Sweden just shook his head. He didn’t let go of his hands.
---
They drank in silence. Finland must have come by, to check on them; Hanatamago, too. Estonia had felt the wet muzzle of the small dog on his ankle. Somehow, their empty cups where filled again, and again.
After the third time, Finland shook his head and made tea instead.
---
Reply
Russia probably called, too, but Estonia wouldn’t call back. Russia had lost a few people as well, but the large nation was just so numb, still even now, that Estonia doubted his sympathies would have been honest.
Maybe they would have been, but he didn’t feel like finding out, so he wouldn’t, not for now.
He rose to his feet, ready to go home. He wasn’t coughing so much anymore, his lungs didn’t feel as small, and he had stopped shivering from underneath the three sweaters. He would be fine, he assured Finland. He lived through much, much worse, he assured himself, quietly, in his mind.
Finland nodded, readjusted the blanket around Sweden’s shoulders - but Sweden shook his head. After those hours spent in silence and coffee, Estonia was starting to understand the taller nation better.
So he stayed, and fell asleep, warm and not shivering anymore against Sweden’s chest, rocked gently by the other’s even breathing like soft, calm waves.
---
On the evening of September 27th, 1994, the ship MS Estonia left the port of Tallinn, in Estonia, to cross to Stockholm, Sweden. At around 1 that night, it got in trouble and sank. Of it’s 989 passengers and crew, only 138 were rescued. The rest died, either from drowning (hence the coughing), or from hypothermia (hence the shivering), as the water temperature was around 10°C. OF all the victims, 501 were Swedes, and 285 Estonians. There were also passengers from other nationalities, including Finns, Russians, Latvians and Lithuanians.
No children under 12 survived.
The Estonia is still under the sea today, and there are laws forbidding diving in the area when she sank.
On another note… I have no idea how they fell asleep with so much caffeine in their bloodstream. Finland must have slipped them something. I wouldn’t put it past him.
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Thank you for not making Finland be all about Sweden, when Estonia needs attention too. And that bit about how Russia might have been sympatethic, if Estonia had had got his call - that was sweet.
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Just perfect, thank you!
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I'd offer cake, but that doesn't feel enough. So. How about the internet?
(You do get cake for using Estonia's POV, however.)
Reply
*showers author!anon with lots and lots of love* Thank you. It was a lovely, lovely fill. So warm and gentle (despite the cold, ahem). And I love your description of the three together. Oh and the effect the accident had on the nations makes perfect sense to me. I think you did a great job describing Estonia's pains and feelings.
Also there simply is NOT enough fic about Estonia. (sob my second fav. character) So thank you so much.
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Maybe with Estonia again. I hadn't really thought about him before picking this up, but I definetly love him now. ♥ And he does need more love!
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Also I know a second fanart to this topic:http://sweetpinkstuff.deviantart.com/art/APH-28-September-150608466
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