Flicker [Finland]

Once upon a time when he was still young, Finland remembered being ruled over by Russia. He often wondered if some of the other nation’s mannerisms had rubbed off on him. Tino, it was true was often referred as a mother bear amongst the others of Scandinavia; was nurturing and sweet, but cross him and his claws came out. When angry he was a whole other force to be reckoned with, but more often than not that meant he smiled when he was in so much pain.

Thirty years ago, he’d thought the war that now raged to his east had been a useless fear. He’d had so much faith in the other countries and their sense. The nations wouldn’t always get along, but it had been so long since the last world war, that Finland couldn’t have imagined one happening again. As he sat on his couch Hana in his lap and him holding a glass of milk and a book though, he could never shake the knowledge that people were dying just outside of his borders. None of his yet, but the tension that someday soon it might, held him captive. It was a weight always on his shoulders. Tino could speak so cheerfully, brush off worries as if they were nothing more than dew on the top of a beautiful flower, but reality spread through his veins like a slow poison. He wasn’t kidding anyone: any day now Russia or any of his allies could invade his borders and disregard his neutrality and the fact that he’d traded with no one on either side. It didn’t matter that times were getting hard, he had something to protect from the calamity and pain that war would always bring. He had a family.

Sweden, Sealand, and Ladonia were his to protect too. None of them had to do all the work.

Speaking of work and Sealand, Finland knew Peter had come to visit Berwald not that long ago. He also had heard about his run-in with Russia—Peter could think his father for that—but he’d been quiet on the subject. Quiet, smiles, encouragement. He understood that the boy was closer to Sweden since it had been him to have purchased him to give Finland the family he’d wanted. The boy just had that kind of bond with Sweden and wasn’t as close to Tino, but that didn’t stop Tino from being sad about it. He wasn’t angry, though, just he hoped that Peter knew he loved him just as much as his Papa did.

Tino was worried sick about Peter out there in the sea on Fort Roughs. He was so far away from them and in the prime waters to be ambushed, but he knew from experience with young countries that they had to live their lives—he could give guidance, but never force. It was obvious through conversations with Berwald that Peter had his reasons for not staying, for returning, and he’d support him even as he fussed after him. Fussed and missed him. He’d not admit to Peter that he’d really have loved to see him when came earlier, but he had. He hid his disappointment well, though, with his smiles. His praises for the young nation.

Did Russia experience such emotions? Did his bottling them up lead him to become so cruel?

With a shake of his head, Tino stood up. Almost immediately he leaned down to stroke Hana’s fur, though. Of course, she’d not been too happy his abrupt movements. He needed to get his thoughts peaceful again, however. That meant one thing.

Baking.

He was humming happily in the kitchen, a powder blue apron around his neck and waist when the doorbell rang. Immediately he put the mixing bowl he’d been stirring on the counter and went to open the door where Hana was barking excitedly.

Hana was the first to jump on Sealand, but that was quickly amended as Finland picked up the boy in a hug. “Peter!” He exclaimed and just held him tight. “Oh! I’ve missed you so much!” He began to pop kisses all over his cheeks.