[Fanfiction]: You don't know, he says
Title:You don't know, he saysAuthor:coeurgryffondorPrompt:Denmark (Christen Densen) + Finland (Timo Väinämöinen), first snow fallOther characters:Sweden (Berwald Oxenstierna)/Norway (Lukas Bondevik), Iceland (Emil Steilsson) [mentioned]Rating:GContent notes:There isn't enough of these two's bromance. Writing it made me happy.Summary:1522, Dragsholm Slot Timo likes it when everyone is busy. When everyone has something to do they don't fight… as much.FF.Net Link:Link to FF.Net posting
You don't know, he says
"If the hat on my head knew what I was thinking,
I would pull it off and throw it away."
-Christian II, last Kalmar Union king of
Denmark, Norway, and Sweden
1522, Dragsholm Slot
Timo likes it when everyone is busy. When everyone has something to do they don't fight… as much. And while Lords Oxenstierna and Bondevik are outside sword fighting, it's only practice: his Swedish lord needs constant stimulation to remain strong, and the Norwegian nation is a formidable enemy. Or at least that's what the taller man had explained to Timo one night while the Finn treated a side wound accidentally delivered, Lord Bondevik watching.
A hand on his shoulder startles him. Turning Timo smiles, relaxing as Lord Densen sits beside him. "Cold," the man murmurs, looking out the window at the other two Scandinavian nations fighting.
"It is very cold out today Sire," Timo replies happily. He likes the Dane, who shows much more on his face and is more open in his affections. Deep down he knows the Dane is wicked too, that he deals terrible injuries to the Swede that Timo must treat, or to his own Norwegian friend that Lord Oxenstierna then takes care of, Timo assisting while Emil cries. But the little Suomi has never seen that side of Lord Densen; to him the Dane only gives happiness and friendship. "Perhaps it will snow," Timo adds with longing, his eyes drifting to the sky.
"Perhaps," the larger man echoes, and there's a sag to his shoulders, his fine clothes settling about his fit frame. It's rare to see him without any armor; sometimes Timo thinks that's because the one is expecting the other two elder nations to attack. In his mind they're separate, Lords Oxenstierna and Densen and Bondevik, different from him and Emil who are young and controlled, voiceless save for the voices of their master and brother respectively.
Outside the window the men finish their fighting, standing close to each other, breathing deeply and watching the other, before moving under a roof that blocks them from view. The Dane tuts, an ugly upturn to his mouth that Timo doesn't like.
"Typical."
"What is it my Lord?" Timo asks earnestly. Blue eyes, narrowed in suspicion, meet his purples ones before they soften, the Danish nation smiling.
"You don't know," he says and his voice is a mixture of light and dark.
That takes Timo a moment, thinking hard. Lord Oxenstierna had started training him for the way they spoke in court: always look for the double meaning, try to guess where someone is going before they get there. Never be unprepared, words are just as dangerous as swords if not more.
A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his thoughts. "Ignore whatever Oxenstierna told ya boy, it's probably useless." That hurts the Finn which his companion seems to sense, adding, "It's for the better that you don't understand. Oxenstierna has the best of intentions in teaching you, but I don't think you'll need to know about the world. Not with him-" there's a hardness to that word that Timo doesn't miss, a hate and loathing between the two men that's caustic "-in charge of you, he'll never give you the chance."
There's a moment's pause before he gives up, not following the unspoken something the man is trying to communicate. "I don't get it," he admits. Lord Densen laughs. "Was that funny?" Timo is so confused.
The man sighs, his gaze going once more out the window at the sound of someone shouting, or maybe it was a moan. He nods before turning back to take in the smaller boy. "What are your feelings for him?"
"Who Sir?"
"Oxenstierna," the Dane says as if that was the obvious answer. Timo blushes, his eyes falling to his hands in his lap.
"He is my master," he says obediently, "and I trust him, and-"
There's a hand on his, another under his chin to lift his gaze up. The man smiles brightly and it makes Timo feel better, like he can open up.
"I- I think, that I, well, it's difficult to-"
"You like him," Lord Densen says bluntly.
"Maybe it's not so hard to say," Timo admits, earning another laugh.
"Does he know?"
"That I like him?"
"Yeah, does he know?"
"No Sir."
"Why not?"
Why not? Timo didn't think he'd have to explain that. "Well he is my lord, and I'm just a little boy from Suomi, and besides it's not like he likes me or anything, I mean I'm just his ward and…." He trails off lamely, feeling more defeated than when he came under Sweden's control.
Two eyes meet his, holding his gaze, as the Dane inquires, "You sleep in his room right?" Timo nods.
"More nights than not."
An eyebrow quirks. "Oh?"
"Sometimes," Timo says happily, "I'm sent to sleep with Emil in the other room." Emil sleeps in his brother's room but there are nights Lord Oxenstierna tells Timo to go sleep with Emil, says it's to keep him company. Timo's always just assumed that meant Lord Bondevik was with Lord Densen, because where else could he be? "I like Emil, we get along."
There's a quiet moment while Lord Densen doesn't seem to look at Timo so much as look through him, processing his words. He blinks without seeing before asking, without breaking his concentration, "Is Oxenstierna planning on leaving Denmark so Sweden can break from the union?"
The Finn sputters at that, shocked at such a suggestion. He had lived in Denmark with the Swede for so long now, longer than he can remember having lived in Sweden. "Why would he do that?" Timo knows he doesn't understand much about the union of the three kingdoms but if there was something going on, surely his master would have told him.
"I need you to promise me something," the Dane announces, taking him in the way he takes in the Swede or Norwegian when it's a civil conversation with important orders. "I need you to promise you'll take care of Berwald when he leaves, because I don't want him getting himself hurt."
"What…" Timo trails off, unsure of where to start. Lord Densen had never before seemed to care about his master's wounds; it was always Lord Bondevik and Timo, the Dane unseen somewhere.
"Promise me Timo," the man says again, a hand on a Finnish shoulder. His face is open, vulnerable for just a moment before he sneers as if remembering something. "When Berwald leaves," he explains in a low voice, "Lukas will finally be just mine."
"Just?" This conversation had stopped making sense to him minutes ago.
"You are so innocent," and a hand slides down Timo's face, Lord Densen leaning in to kiss his forehead delicately the way Lord Oxenstierna would before bed or after church. Instinctively he wraps his arms around the man the way he does the Swede on cold nights where Timo slips into the longer bed, arms coming around him. On nights like those he's allowed to call him Berwald, head on the large, cloth-covered chest while a fire warms the room. He knows he's not alone in being held like that, because Timo's returned early on mornings where he had slept with Emil to find Lord Bondevik in his Swedish master's arms too, the two sound asleep, chests bare. They would look happy like that, perfectly content, both smiling in their dreams.
Blinking Timo realizes the landscape outside has changed. "Look!" he exclaims suddenly, and Lord Densen tenses before relaxing. "Snow!" The first snowfall of the winter has always been Timo's favorite. He hates going out into the snow though, only does so with Lord Oxenstierna beside him; the Swede tells him it's because he was found alone in the snow but Timo doesn't remember that, simply trusts the older man and so goes only with him.
As if by some unwritten contract the first snowfall of each year is left untouched by the nations: there are never footprints in it, no snow is moved, everything is left undisturbed. The snow falls beautifully, perfectly, each time and so they leave it unblemished, the last pure thing in this world.
Or so Lord Oxenstierna likes to tell Timo; the Finn likes when his master speaks poetically.
"You," Lord Densen says, his chin on Timo's head, "are the last one of us like this snow." When he doesn't respond, his mind trying to process the image, the Dane continues. "Pure, peaceful, innocent." Timo wasn't aware that snow could be innocent. "You're the last one like that Timo, but it wasn't last much longer."
"What do you-" but his question is cut off as two men are heard entering the room, Lord Densen and Timo moving further apart. The other two men don't like Lord Densen talking to Timo, try to keep them from getting along. Timo is allowed to be friends with Emil and Lord Oxenstierna; that's it.
Lord Bondevik saunters up to the Dane, his hands holding the man's face as he kisses him deeply; Timo doesn't really understand their relationship, but he likes when the Norwegian and Dane get along. He watches the smaller man whisper in the larger's ear before Lord Densen stands, nods to Timo, then Lord Oxenstierna, and the pair leave. The Swede takes his place beside Timo.
"My Lord?" Timo asks quietly and large arms pull him to a larger chest in response, Lord Oxenstierna kissing his head the way Lord Densen had.
"Yes Timo?"
In the distance the tops of trees are already covered white, branches being weighed down slowly. The Finn hopes it snows a lot. "Are we leaving Denmark?"
The man holding him sighs deeply, hands rubbing his back reassuringly. But Timo wants an answer and when he looks up into sea-green eyes behind newly obtained glasses, Lord Oxenstierna's face still blank, the Swede leans down and kisses him on the lips. Not the way Lord Bondevik had kissed Lord Densen; this was more chaste, because Timo knows Lord Oxenstierna cares deeply for him and that the man shows his affection differently from others.
When the kiss is over lips kiss the Finnish forehead before pulling his body back to that chest. They watch the snow fall until it is too dark to see and too cold to remain seated by the window. No answer is ever delivered, not with words at least.
Lord Densen had said he was pure, had asked him to promise to look after the Swedish nation when they left, Lord Bondevik and Emil remaining in the Dane's care. And though Timo's not sure he understood what all of it meant, he's sure of two things: Lord Densen cares deeply for him, and that Timo loves the first snowfall.
You don't know, he says
"If the hat on my head knew what I was thinking,
I would pull it off and throw it away."
-Christian II, last Kalmar Union king of
Denmark, Norway, and Sweden
1522, Dragsholm Slot
Timo likes it when everyone is busy. When everyone has something to do they don't fight… as much. And while Lords Oxenstierna and Bondevik are outside sword fighting, it's only practice: his Swedish lord needs constant stimulation to remain strong, and the Norwegian nation is a formidable enemy. Or at least that's what the taller man had explained to Timo one night while the Finn treated a side wound accidentally delivered, Lord Bondevik watching.
A hand on his shoulder startles him. Turning Timo smiles, relaxing as Lord Densen sits beside him. "Cold," the man murmurs, looking out the window at the other two Scandinavian nations fighting.
"It is very cold out today Sire," Timo replies happily. He likes the Dane, who shows much more on his face and is more open in his affections. Deep down he knows the Dane is wicked too, that he deals terrible injuries to the Swede that Timo must treat, or to his own Norwegian friend that Lord Oxenstierna then takes care of, Timo assisting while Emil cries. But the little Suomi has never seen that side of Lord Densen; to him the Dane only gives happiness and friendship. "Perhaps it will snow," Timo adds with longing, his eyes drifting to the sky.
"Perhaps," the larger man echoes, and there's a sag to his shoulders, his fine clothes settling about his fit frame. It's rare to see him without any armor; sometimes Timo thinks that's because the one is expecting the other two elder nations to attack. In his mind they're separate, Lords Oxenstierna and Densen and Bondevik, different from him and Emil who are young and controlled, voiceless save for the voices of their master and brother respectively.
Outside the window the men finish their fighting, standing close to each other, breathing deeply and watching the other, before moving under a roof that blocks them from view. The Dane tuts, an ugly upturn to his mouth that Timo doesn't like.
"Typical."
"What is it my Lord?" Timo asks earnestly. Blue eyes, narrowed in suspicion, meet his purples ones before they soften, the Danish nation smiling.
"You don't know," he says and his voice is a mixture of light and dark.
That takes Timo a moment, thinking hard. Lord Oxenstierna had started training him for the way they spoke in court: always look for the double meaning, try to guess where someone is going before they get there. Never be unprepared, words are just as dangerous as swords if not more.
A hand on his shoulder pulls him from his thoughts. "Ignore whatever Oxenstierna told ya boy, it's probably useless." That hurts the Finn which his companion seems to sense, adding, "It's for the better that you don't understand. Oxenstierna has the best of intentions in teaching you, but I don't think you'll need to know about the world. Not with him-" there's a hardness to that word that Timo doesn't miss, a hate and loathing between the two men that's caustic "-in charge of you, he'll never give you the chance."
There's a moment's pause before he gives up, not following the unspoken something the man is trying to communicate. "I don't get it," he admits. Lord Densen laughs. "Was that funny?" Timo is so confused.
The man sighs, his gaze going once more out the window at the sound of someone shouting, or maybe it was a moan. He nods before turning back to take in the smaller boy. "What are your feelings for him?"
"Who Sir?"
"Oxenstierna," the Dane says as if that was the obvious answer. Timo blushes, his eyes falling to his hands in his lap.
"He is my master," he says obediently, "and I trust him, and-"
There's a hand on his, another under his chin to lift his gaze up. The man smiles brightly and it makes Timo feel better, like he can open up.
"I- I think, that I, well, it's difficult to-"
"You like him," Lord Densen says bluntly.
"Maybe it's not so hard to say," Timo admits, earning another laugh.
"Does he know?"
"That I like him?"
"Yeah, does he know?"
"No Sir."
"Why not?"
Why not? Timo didn't think he'd have to explain that. "Well he is my lord, and I'm just a little boy from Suomi, and besides it's not like he likes me or anything, I mean I'm just his ward and…." He trails off lamely, feeling more defeated than when he came under Sweden's control.
Two eyes meet his, holding his gaze, as the Dane inquires, "You sleep in his room right?" Timo nods.
"More nights than not."
An eyebrow quirks. "Oh?"
"Sometimes," Timo says happily, "I'm sent to sleep with Emil in the other room." Emil sleeps in his brother's room but there are nights Lord Oxenstierna tells Timo to go sleep with Emil, says it's to keep him company. Timo's always just assumed that meant Lord Bondevik was with Lord Densen, because where else could he be? "I like Emil, we get along."
There's a quiet moment while Lord Densen doesn't seem to look at Timo so much as look through him, processing his words. He blinks without seeing before asking, without breaking his concentration, "Is Oxenstierna planning on leaving Denmark so Sweden can break from the union?"
The Finn sputters at that, shocked at such a suggestion. He had lived in Denmark with the Swede for so long now, longer than he can remember having lived in Sweden. "Why would he do that?" Timo knows he doesn't understand much about the union of the three kingdoms but if there was something going on, surely his master would have told him.
"I need you to promise me something," the Dane announces, taking him in the way he takes in the Swede or Norwegian when it's a civil conversation with important orders. "I need you to promise you'll take care of Berwald when he leaves, because I don't want him getting himself hurt."
"What…" Timo trails off, unsure of where to start. Lord Densen had never before seemed to care about his master's wounds; it was always Lord Bondevik and Timo, the Dane unseen somewhere.
"Promise me Timo," the man says again, a hand on a Finnish shoulder. His face is open, vulnerable for just a moment before he sneers as if remembering something. "When Berwald leaves," he explains in a low voice, "Lukas will finally be just mine."
"Just?" This conversation had stopped making sense to him minutes ago.
"You are so innocent," and a hand slides down Timo's face, Lord Densen leaning in to kiss his forehead delicately the way Lord Oxenstierna would before bed or after church. Instinctively he wraps his arms around the man the way he does the Swede on cold nights where Timo slips into the longer bed, arms coming around him. On nights like those he's allowed to call him Berwald, head on the large, cloth-covered chest while a fire warms the room. He knows he's not alone in being held like that, because Timo's returned early on mornings where he had slept with Emil to find Lord Bondevik in his Swedish master's arms too, the two sound asleep, chests bare. They would look happy like that, perfectly content, both smiling in their dreams.
Blinking Timo realizes the landscape outside has changed. "Look!" he exclaims suddenly, and Lord Densen tenses before relaxing. "Snow!" The first snowfall of the winter has always been Timo's favorite. He hates going out into the snow though, only does so with Lord Oxenstierna beside him; the Swede tells him it's because he was found alone in the snow but Timo doesn't remember that, simply trusts the older man and so goes only with him.
As if by some unwritten contract the first snowfall of each year is left untouched by the nations: there are never footprints in it, no snow is moved, everything is left undisturbed. The snow falls beautifully, perfectly, each time and so they leave it unblemished, the last pure thing in this world.
Or so Lord Oxenstierna likes to tell Timo; the Finn likes when his master speaks poetically.
"You," Lord Densen says, his chin on Timo's head, "are the last one of us like this snow." When he doesn't respond, his mind trying to process the image, the Dane continues. "Pure, peaceful, innocent." Timo wasn't aware that snow could be innocent. "You're the last one like that Timo, but it wasn't last much longer."
"What do you-" but his question is cut off as two men are heard entering the room, Lord Densen and Timo moving further apart. The other two men don't like Lord Densen talking to Timo, try to keep them from getting along. Timo is allowed to be friends with Emil and Lord Oxenstierna; that's it.
Lord Bondevik saunters up to the Dane, his hands holding the man's face as he kisses him deeply; Timo doesn't really understand their relationship, but he likes when the Norwegian and Dane get along. He watches the smaller man whisper in the larger's ear before Lord Densen stands, nods to Timo, then Lord Oxenstierna, and the pair leave. The Swede takes his place beside Timo.
"My Lord?" Timo asks quietly and large arms pull him to a larger chest in response, Lord Oxenstierna kissing his head the way Lord Densen had.
"Yes Timo?"
In the distance the tops of trees are already covered white, branches being weighed down slowly. The Finn hopes it snows a lot. "Are we leaving Denmark?"
The man holding him sighs deeply, hands rubbing his back reassuringly. But Timo wants an answer and when he looks up into sea-green eyes behind newly obtained glasses, Lord Oxenstierna's face still blank, the Swede leans down and kisses him on the lips. Not the way Lord Bondevik had kissed Lord Densen; this was more chaste, because Timo knows Lord Oxenstierna cares deeply for him and that the man shows his affection differently from others.
When the kiss is over lips kiss the Finnish forehead before pulling his body back to that chest. They watch the snow fall until it is too dark to see and too cold to remain seated by the window. No answer is ever delivered, not with words at least.
Lord Densen had said he was pure, had asked him to promise to look after the Swedish nation when they left, Lord Bondevik and Emil remaining in the Dane's care. And though Timo's not sure he understood what all of it meant, he's sure of two things: Lord Densen cares deeply for him, and that Timo loves the first snowfall.