#ii. character;; aph denmark | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

queenofdenest · 2 years ago

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Title: of a love that gave and gave Fandom: Hetalia Warnings: no warnings apply Relationships: nyo!denest Characters: nyo!est, nyo!den, others mentioned Tags: Raised In A Cult AU, Human AU, Underage Smoking, flirting, minor age difference*, minor sufin, implied disturbing content**

Summary: Eha has always lived among those on the compound, but new convert, Else, makes her want to change that.

AO3: link

A/N: there's a really really long story behind this au and if anyone wants to hear it, hit me up, but the short version of why you're getting a fic set in this au is i watched the netfl*x docu about my old church, got reminded of this au from years ago, and decided to write a little drabble in it. honestly don't really get why but i do adore this au, but then again, it's a great au to play with my issues. anyway, sorry for disappearing, i've been working on series fics and planning fics that i completely forgot to update anyone on anything, so that's where i've been.

*quick note on the age difference tag, nyo!est is 17 in this fic, while nyo!den is a bit older (not listed in the fic but is about 23 according to my notes about this au) and while this is perfectly legal in my state - and honestly they're in a cult - i did want to list it as i know age differences can be some people's squick. so here's your (second) warning. also they literally do nothing but hold hands and stare at each other.

**also this fic lightly goes over several implied disturbing themes, nothing like any archive warning, it's mostly just getting betrothed while underage, death, end of the world type preaching, and just the implied but not dealt with trauma of some heavy internalized messages that these type of cults give you.

**title inspired from the crane wives, icarus, even though that song has nothing to do with the fic.

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Eha felt her hands shaking as she ducked away from the crowds, smiling to the people she knew as she passed them by as unassumingly as she could. Her plain blue dress almost tripped her several times as she walked through the near empty streets of the compound, and she decided that after what she was doing, she was going to go right home and sew the hemline of her dresses to be a bit higher than they were. That way, next time she decided to do this, she’d not have to worry about face planting on the ground as she walked.

Next time, that thought brought a shiver to her spine. One hand reached up to play with the end of her braid, Viktorija had done it earlier that morning and she had felt so pretty afterwards, but now – now it felt like she had several heavy blankets covering her head.

It was Saturday morning and while most the others were heading towards the meetings rooms or their chores, she was headed towards freedom.

Or, well, temporary freedom.

She’d never actually leave the compound. As the minister had often explained, there was nothing for her – or anyone else – out there, and while she disagreed with much of what the man preached, he wasn’t wrong there. Her family had lived on the compound since before she was born; her mother had fallen in love with the former leader’s wife and had joined if only to be closer to the woman. Eventually the words the leader had spoken had actually penetrated her mother’s brain and she had opened herself up to the truth of the Society and had joined in true faith, eventually marrying Eha’s father and having her and her siblings. Her mother had soon brought in the rest of her family – including Eha’s two uncles and their families – and that led to the unfortunate truth: if she left, she’d have nowhere to go.

Shaking her head, she tried to focus instead on being stealthy but her footsteps sounded so heavy as she stepped over dry grass. If the minister was to believed, this was a sign of the end of times, but she figured that their area was just going through a dry spell and the upcoming rain that Jan had said was coming would help the crunchy grass become uncrunchy. Which was good, she thought as she ducked under a large willow tree – which was the only tree of it’s type on the anywhere on the compound – as less crunchy grass was always more fun to lay on. The willow tree branches brushed against her hair and she paused to make sure none of it tangled, her eyes making contact with the minister's home. The poor tree sat directly next to the minister’s home lot, and while the minister was off preaching to the 16 and up male group right now, it didn’t change that she felt watched.

It was all worth it though.

Else Løkke waited behind the compound's tall fence, right next to the loose fence board, a pack of cigarettes held in one hand. She was a new convert to their compound; her father had joined the group two years ago but he had held off on getting his family to join, only in the last three months bringing his four daughters to join him, and Else had caught her eyes immediately.

Eha knew that nothing could come from their friendship – not only was Else in a different age group than her, Eha had been told since she was 14 that she was to be married to her cousin – but she hardly thought that what they were doing was too wrong. Sure, sneaking off the compound to smoke was forbidden: cigarette’s being a way to be led astray, and yes – Else did often talk about things she was supposed to have left behind when she joined the compound, but Eha loved learning, and since much of what Else spoke about was banned for being things that could lead them away from their supposed honorable path into paradise after the world ended, Eha wanted to hear everything.

The world outside the compound fence did scare her. Again, nothing out there for her. Yet at the same time, she couldn’t help but want to know more. To see the large cities the other talked about – to be able to walk into a library and know that none of the books had been cherry picked or ripped apart to protect the innocent-minded among them.

“You’re earlier than I thought,” Else said, a smile on her face as Eha came to stand next to her.

The other woman had her hair plaited down her back, but instead of the careful way the more devoted women of the compound did theirs – making sure no hair was out of place – Else’s looked as if she had scrambled to put it together. Eha reached out, pushing a stray piece of hair back. It was nothing more than a friendly gesture, she decided as she watched Else drop to the ground, splaying out her legs in front of her. The dress she wore wasn’t as long as the one Eha wore and her bare flesh stuck out in a way that was supposed to be indecent according to the minister, but Eha found to be intriguing.

“I just had to drop Raivis off at the grade school,” she replied, ducking her head as she added, “I'm supposed to be in reflection today.”

Else’s smile morphed into a grin, “What is a good girl like you doing in glorified time out?” She asked as she held out a cigarette.

“Reflection isn’t glorified time out,” Eha argued as she held her hand out for a lighter, quickly lighting up before she continued, “It’s a time where one is supposed to reflect on their sins and their faith and their future. It’s a time of reflection.”

Else laughed lightly. “You don’t have faith, you think the minister is a crackpot!”

“Yeah, well-” It wasn’t the full truth; she truly did believe in some of what the minister spoke about. The world did seem cruel; the bits of history that was spoken about during history classes talked about world wars and mass murders and horrible things of that nature; if there was ever a sign that it was going to come to an end, it’d be that (right?), but she was also correct. Eha thought the minister was a crazy man. He was the son of the former leader – because that was what those in charge were called before the minister came along – and while in charge, he had spoken of nothing but doom. Other things had happened that changed the group in weird ways; things that had never been apart of the group began being introduce.

Eha could still hear her mother arguing about clothing when the minister made an edict declaring certain clothing as dooming the group to damnation, swearing that it was a sign that things were going to get worse. She forced those thoughts from her mind as she listened to Else's words.

“So, to ask again, what were you doing in time out?” Else flicked her cigarette, the ashes falling to the ground.

“Me and my cousin are trying to get out of our betrothal,” she said after a second, “Tino feels like it’s weird with the age difference between us – he thinks that since he was nearly an adult when the betrothal happened, he should be with someone closer to his age and not have to wait until I come of age.”

Like Birgitta, Else’s younger sister. Her cousin had been making moon eyes at the girl since they had joined and Birgitte joined him in working with the 10 and unders in the after school program. It was, in equal parts, adorable and disgusting: she loved that her cousin had fallen for someone, but by god, he could learn to lock the bathroom door every now and then.

Still, she wasn’t going to say that.

Eha wasn’t exactly sure how close the two sisters were – not only did they have two different last names, but they seemed to be at each other’s throats a lot. At least the third and fourth of the sisters, who’s names Eha could never remember, were pretty normal in behavior.

“Ah, well, sorry?” Else seemed to frown and Eha felt her head shake.

“No, it’s fine, neither of us want it.” She took another drag of her cigarette, before dropping the mostly gone thing to the ground, crushing it. It sat there for a second before she bent to pick it up, tossing it in the old gum container that someone had left behind years ago. Though smoking was forbidden, a lot of people on the compound smoked, at least, a lot of people Eha knew, and more than a few of these containers existed somewhere on ground.

“Plus,” she added after a minute, green eyes sparkling slightly. “I have a year before I turn 18, I might find someone else.”

Else looked towards her, bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah?”

“I mean, it’s a big compound – there’s like 700 of us, my cousin can’t be the only person I could marry.” Not that she wanted anyone else but the other in front of her.

Else moved, holding out her hand for help up. Eha gripped her hands, their fingers intertwining as she pulled the other up. For a second, her eyes closed as the other pulled one hand out of her grasp to swipe the dirt off her dress, and she waited for the moment that their little touch would end, but instead, as soon as Else was done swatting dirt away, she rejoined their hands. Eha opened her eyes and noted that they were of a height to each other, and Else's brilliant eyes seemed to shine in the light of the bright morning. Else bent slightly after a moment and pressed a kiss to her head, before rubbing their noses together. “You’ll have a line of suitors once this comes out,” she said as she moved away slowly, not moving her second hand.

It was a sweet thing to say and something that those who were without a betrothal were told, but as she thought on that, all of her earlier bravado fell away. Eha didn’t want a line of suitors, she only wanted the woman in front of her. “Maybe.”

Looking down at the dirt, she wondered what would happen if she told Else that. Even though she knew that nothing could come out of it – most marriages between women on the compound only happened after they both had children and lost a husband already – she didn’t want to have to wait that long to express her feelings towards her. Yet at the same time, she didn’t want to lose what she had gained.

Else was more than a crush, more than the person who would talk to her about the outside world without censoring herself – she was the first person who spoke to Eha about what Eha wanted. Not even her parents, who were quite overbearing, did that. Else questioned Eha about her life, about her likes and wants and dreams and dislikes and – she made her feel as if she was the only person in the whole world who mattered.

“I-”

The bell in the town square rang loudly, cutting off her words.

“Shit.” Else yanked her hands away, pulling at her dress before messing with her hair, trying to push it into a respectable way. Eha frowned as she watched her rush to make herself look presentable before her eyes darted around the empty space as she shoved the cigarette pack into her bra. “Do you know how long it takes the minister to get to the community rooms?”

“Um, twenty minutes,” She replied before asking, “Were you supposed to meet him?”

“Yeah.” Else looked absolutely unapologetic as she grinned, “He wants to talk but honestly I was a little more interested in talking to you.”

Oh.

“I doubt what we’ve talked about was of any interest to you-”

Else moved close again, cupping her face with a hand, “Everything about you interests me,” she said, earnestly. There was a look in the bright blue eyes but Eha couldn't figure out what it meant before Else was adding, “Never forget that.”

“Okay.” Her face felt hot as Else stared at her. This was the closest they had ever been to each other, and Eha was amazed at every little feature she could categorize on the other's face, before she remembered why they were so close and she shook herself out of the daze, “Your meeting – you’re already – you’re going to be late.”

The other nodded but made no move to duck under the fence again. Instead, her eyes were still trained on Eha and she felt her heart skip a beat.

“I gotta go,” Else said, after a few moments. The look on her face spoke only of how little she wanted to do that, but still she moved. Halfway through the fence hole, she looked back, “Meet up with me again tomorrow?”

“Always.” Else could ask anything of her and Eha would listen. Perhaps that was a sin in the eyes of the minister – the only person you should have unwavering support for was him and his words for only he knew when destruction would befall the world – but she didn’t care.

The other disappeared from her view and Eha waited a few more minutes before she ducked back into the compound, sliding back into the person she was expected to be. She’d head back to her room to reflect more on her betrothal before meeting up with Tino to explain that she truly felt it was the best they end it – perhaps if she said she had a revelation about it the minister would listen – and then wait for the next day to happen.

She pressed a hand against the willow tree before she began to take crunchy steps back towards the main square. A distant rumble sounded and she looked up towards the east, dark clouds hung overhead. Jan was right, she thought, rain was coming in.

______

A/N: Not really much else to say. Don't know if I'll ever write anything more in this au - unless you guys want to see it - but um, I do like it so who knows.

human names: Eha - nyo!est Viktorija - nyo!liet Else - nyo!den Birgitta - nyo!swe Jan - neth

#hws denmark #hws estonia #hws denest #hetalia fanfiction #hws hetalia #ii. character;; aph estonia #ii. character;; aph denmark #iii. story;; mine #iii. story;; one shot #iii. story;; complete #v. pairing;; denest #iii. au;; cult au

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queenofdenest · 4 years ago

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Prompt: letters | denmark Series: apheeweek 2k21 Fandom: Hetalia. Warnings/Tags: purple prose. very lightly implied bad things Characters: APH Est.onia. APH Den.mark. Pairings: denest Summary: sometimes you look at the letters your boyfriend wrote to you and you fall a little bit more in love with him.

A/N: my blog is literally titled queen of this ship, of course I was going to write it at some point. I saw the prompt ‘letters’ and was like, time to bust out a headcanon that I have never talked about before but would love to write about. Honestly, there isn’t much to say. This is just soft and sweet. The most important thing I do want to say is happy birthday esto.nia. may the light of your future outshine the darkness in your past, may what hurt your citizens be nothing more than a nightmare that easily fades one day.

I hope this reaches you well, the letter began, fancy script curling around itself on the page. It’s all in a mix of Esto.nian and Dan.ish, besides that one line which is – at least on this letter – written in Pol.ish. Est.onia has dozens of these letters, ones that begin with that one sentence written in several languages before eventually becoming the strange, yet oddly charming mix of the two languages.

“A secret language,” Den.mark had once said, a moment before Esto.nia had been handed over to the Livo.nian Order. “Look for a letter from me.”

Eduard, who at that time was nameless, excepting when he answered to the name Maast, had not believed that there’d be any letters. He was angry then; about being sold, about having to leave, about it being to Livonia and Prussia. Of course, by time he was being handed over to Poland and Lithuania, he had amassed dozens of letters, written in Denmark’s “secret language”, holding onto them as if they were his only lifeline as he was swapped as if he was a possession.

Tere! Hemmelig keel.*

Barely understandable, Eduard thought as he read one of the first letters ever sent to him. The secret language was just their languages mashed together, one word after another. It didn’t exactly work in the beginning as Taani had very little understanding of the Estonian language and that during Eduard’s time as his vassal, they never really worked on teaching it to him.

Hidden kisses, soft moments stolen during times when Denmark had to be somewhere else but wanted nothing more than to stay with him for the entire time – they fell into a chaste whirlwind romance as quick as they managed to realize that it was wanted in both side.

Another letter, the Swedish beginning before falling into a pattern that worked better with a vocabulary showcasing to Estonia that Taani had been working on learning his language even with them being separated.

A blush formed on his face slightly. The words, while for the most part a simple poem speaking about Denmark’s love of the Estonian lands he held, took a less than innocent turn as it continued.

He stifled a laugh. He forgot how corny some of these letters were. He barely interacted with them, after all the bad that had happened, he had kept them hidden in hopes of protecting them, never bringing them out in fear someone would take them and destroy them. Yet, they brought him the biggest smiles, seeing how Taani’s understanding of his language go from bad to considerably better to native level, all without Eduard’s help.

It was… something for him, knowing that someone had decided to teach themselves a language no one really saw as important besides Eduard and his people.

You’re face – I miss it, I dream about it, I wish I could wrap you into my arms and never let you go, one of the letters said somewhere near the end.

“What are you laughing at?”

Eduard jumped slightly at the sound of Taani’s voice, shaking his head as he turned to face him. “What are you doing?”

Nikolaj gave him a smile, “That was my question,” he said as he moved to sit with him, making sure to not accidentally bump into anything. He made a motion towards one of the letters, asking permission.

“Of course,” Eduard said, “These are kind of yours as well.”

The look on the other’s face was confused as he touched the first yellowed page, eyebrows furrowed as he seemed to read the words. It took less than a minute for a bright red to cover his face, embarrassment evident.

“I can’t believe you kept them.” The letter was placed down softly, another one picked up in the same soft manner. “Oof, this one is just me comparing your eyes to the sky and the sea and to flowers – these are so bad.”

Eduard laughed lightly. “I love them.” He looked at the pages, their little protective box laying nearby. He didn’t have a lot – so much got destroyed with every new regime change; the last one had almost broke him – yet the little knick-knacks that he managed to keep helped him maintain a bit of himself. “They used to help remind me of good things whenever I was having a bad time.”

Taani seemed to think on that, his face pensive as they sat in silence. Perhaps it was too dark a thing to say; it was Eduard’s birthday, a day of celebration, not one to sit and reminisce on the bad things that had happened to him, but at the same time, it seemed insincere to not acknowledge it. Of course, he could’ve said it differently – soften the blow so the meaning behind it wasn’t so harsh.

“I-”

“I guess I have to start writing you more letters than,” Taani interrupted, bright blue eyes shining as he looked up.

Eduard flustered. “What?”

A shrug. “If they make you happy, then every free second I have, I will write you a letter, secret code and all.”

“It’s not really a secret code,” he said, trying to distract himself from the butterfly feelings in his throat. “It’s just our languages.”

“Exactly, our languages.”

Oh.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Eduard said after a second. The words were easy to say, the language one he had learned long ago. Not one he said often though.

“Ma armastan sind,” Nikolaj repeated, the smile growing on his face. “Come on, birthday boy, it’s time to celebrate you.”

The letters, with their yellow paper, honeyed words, nonsensical meanings, and near magical properties, were gently placed back in their envelopes, then the box, and finally placed on the nearest shelving unit. Eduard felt a surge, wanting to instead hide them away to keep them safe, yet knowing – trusting that they’d be so.

Plus, if they weren’t in storage, it’d make it easier to add any new letters to it. Perhaps, with time, he could help Denmark create his own letter box by actually answering back to all of them – something he had neglected to do back then as he was always terrified of the idea of telling Taani about what was going on with him.

He felt an arm wrap around his waist, a soft hug from Taani always grounded him. Yes, after dinner, after the celebration, he’d get started on writing letters, writing answers, and ultimately, telling stories.

a.n: *there’s not much to add. i always headcanoned that throughout their separation, taani would send eduard letters while eduard would just sequester them away as a means to protect them, never writing back. i feel like that probably worried the crap out of nikolaj while at the same time, he understood. * i hope this reaches you well is probably my favourite meme rn so of course i was adding it. *taani = estonian for denmark, i will forever use it as a nickname. *tere! hemmelig keel! = this is quite literally hello (estonian), secret/hidden (danish), language (estonian) - at least according to google translate which is as reliable as my city’s weather which can go from below freezing to 50 degrees Fahrenheit in less than a day and then right back to freezing should it feel like it. *very (very) simplified version: estonia was a duchy under danish rule, the teutonic knights showed up on estonia, the estonians had st. george’s night uprising, the danish king sold the land to the teutonic knights/livonian order. [authors note within an authors note: this is a very very very very simplified version of it, please know it’s a little more nuanced than this.] *lastly, estonia as a country has always fascinated me. for one, my maternal grandmother might’ve had family from there from before ww2, and for two, even though hetalia introduced me to the country, the research i have proceeded to do have kept me far more interested. it’s a country of hardships, of a shitty hand dealt and forcibly played, yet throughout it, they’ve maintained a sense of self that is much stronger than any of the harm done to it. it’s a country i hope to one day visit, to actually get to see these places i have dreamt of seeing since i first started to delve deeper into the history. it’s a country that i truly do enjoy learning about, regardless of what i’m learning. so again. happy birthday. happy national day.

#apheeweek #aph estonia #aph denmark #denest #hws estonia #hws denmark #hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #ii. character;; aph estonia #ii. character;; aph denmark #v. pairing;; denest #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #iii. story;; mine #vii. story;; aph estonia week

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queenofdenest · 4 years ago

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Prompt: 6. Dragged Away Series: Unofficial Whump.tober Fandom: Hetalia. Warnings/Tags: Angst. Language. Characters: APH Est.onia. APH Den.mark. APH Lat.via. APH Rus.sia. Pairings: DenEst. Summary: [Pre-Soviet Era/WWII Era] The harsh sound of the tea kettle whistling filled the air as Estonia felt the world – his world – end.

A/N: We had a post soviet fic last time, now this is a pre/right before soviet fic and it’s just angst. there truly is no real fluff or anything involved here. a lot of research has gone into this, though i do not doubt i got some things wrong. there’s only so much research you can do before you say fuck it and walk away. anyway. i do hope that everyone likes this piece, i am really not sold on it. i do like it but like i feel like it could be better but i’ve spent so long on it i gotta set it free.

until next time, which will be more angst by the way.

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The harsh sound of the tea kettle whistling filled the air as Estonia felt the world – his world – end. It couldn’t be happening.

Not again.

A soft whimper went unheard of as another one of Russia’s soldiers ransacked the house he had built up with the others. Somewhere in the house, he could hear Denmark yelling, screaming, fighting with whoever he could get to pay attention to him.

The part of him that wasn’t frightened like a deer in sight lines wanted to join him – he was a free nation; his people had fought, and bled, and died for it – but he couldn’t force himself to do anything but stare in the distance. He had knew this was going to happen, hard not to have when Russia and his bosses had made Estonia’s bosses sign that pact agreeing (acquiescing) to let the Soviets build military bases in their country*, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t killing him to not know what to do. How could he fight when he had all but given them the keys?

A shout; Russian words filled the air, louder than the kettle that had already boiled over, louder than his own heartbeat that sounded in his ears, louder than Taani – somewhere in the distance a car drove up, it’s doors clanging shut.

“I don’t want to go.”

Kurat.*

Latvia.

How did he manage to forget about the shorter nation?

A loud crash sounded from somewhere and Estonia flinched at it. Well, he could hardly be blamed for too long, either they were going to be taken by the Soviet forces or everything was going to go away, which meant that Latvia needed not to be told that Estonia had forgotten about him.

“Estonia.” Latvia pulled on his sleeve, “I don’t-”

“Shush,” Estonia hissed, pushing the younger nation behind him and away from the barrage of soldiers. As much as he wished he could have Latvia run out the backdoor, the soldiers had already taken note of him.

Plus, he doubted the Latvian would get far – his legs never seemed to work whenever he was scared; the boy often stood there shaking and worrying himself into a panic. Normally, Lithuania -

Oh no, Eduard thought, did they already grab Lithuania? The other nation was Russia’s favorite to torment. No, doubtful. They couldn’t have. Taurys would’ve found some way to get a message to them. Oh, now Eduard was cursing himself, he should’ve insisted on having Lithuania over this weekend. Instead he had accepted that the Lithuania wanted to have some alone time after everything.

What would having him over had helped? He’d only get dragged away first, an insidious part of his brain thought as he saw a solider tear something off the wall.

His lip met his teeth, a habit long since discarded. He had no idea what to do, what to say – how to get them to leave – he was stuck, standing in place. Part of him wanted to run, to try and escape into his woods, another part just wanted to shut the kettle off, accept what was to happen, try to make his peace with it; they both seemed to war, a fight that would only end when he was dragged away from his little abode.

Did he have enough time to say goodbye to Nikolaj? Did he have enough time to pack a bag? Would he be allowed to pack a bag? Last time he went to live with Russia, he was, though that was a long time ago, both him and Russia had changed.

A scream bubbled into his throat but he swallowed it. He hated living with Russia and he didn’t want to go back to doing so.

Taani let loose an impressive amount of Estonian swears, words that brought a small brush of red to Eduard’s cheeks – he wasn’t much of a prude, often swearing himself, but wow did Taani really know swear words.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered to Latvia, his voice soft and broken. “I -”

The Latvian squeezed the bottom of Eduard’s shirt, pulling the fabric taut. How could this happen to them? Were they not allowed to know the joy of nationhood like the others without this constant snatching of freedom? A silent prayer sent to the sky, no real hope placed behind it – religion had never been his thing* and he doubted that the Christian God would help a non-believer such as himself, but it made him feel like he had finally exhausted all his options.

“Taani,” he called, wanting to have his final words with the other before all else fell apart. “Nikolaj!”

The other nation cut himself off, hearing him from wherever the other was in the house. “Eduard?” Footsteps lighter than that of the heavy soldiers, Latvia gripped him tighter. Bright blue eyes appeared in front of them, relief and worry mingling together in some way indescribable. “I’m not going to let them-”

“The garden will need tending to,” Eduard said, cutting him off. “I don’t know if you’ll be allowed to come here and do so, but if you can, please – if not, I’m sure you can hire someone.”

As if his people wouldn’t understandably flee from their annexed country. There’d be people too stubborn to leave and he was betting on them for it. Hopefully this wouldn’t be too long of a – whatever this was going to be. Russia couldn’t keep them for too long without others stepping in, right?

Of course they’ll step in, he told himself. “And my stuff, please take some of it with you.” While a good majority of the stuff he held onto that held true sentimental value was at Finland’s place – the other nation had been holding onto all that stuff since Estonia was first taken by Russia while Estonia had been living with Sweden – there was still a few things in this house that had become truly important to him.

“Eduard, he can’t do this, I won’t let him,” Taani insisted, grabbing his hand, “I won’t let him take you or Raivis.”

“You are going to stand in my way?”

A chill entered the room, the sound of the soldiers ruining everything had gone quiet some time during his words with Denmark, and the man behind them – not a man, their fellow nation behind them, seemed to command the entire room to his liking.

“I was not expecting you here, Дания*,” The Russian continued, “I thought you were going to be busy this week meeting with Norway.”

Eduard watched as Nikolaj’s face screwed up in confusion. That had been a private conversation that they had had over telephone when Eduard had last been at work. Unnerving what that meant in Estonia’s point of view.

“This isn’t right,” he caught himself saying, cutting off whatever Denmark was going to say. “We don’t want to go.”

Russia’s face tightened, his eyes darkening. “We do not always get what we want, Да?”

Rhetorical question and yet there was nothing Eduard wanted more to do than point out that out of the four nations there, him and Latvia had had the shortest end of the stick thanks to him. He was going to hold that back – his brain literally was screaming to make this transition as painless as possible, as easy as he could – but he couldn’t. He was tired of this, tired of losing his freedom to other nations.

“You’re right, we don’t – if I did, you wouldn’t be allowed to step foot in my country.” His heart felt like it might throw itself out of his chest, but he stood by what he said.

“How harsh,” Russia said simply, his smile growing. “It is thankful that you do not get what you want then, isn’t it for me?”

“I’m not leaving,” Eduard said, ignoring the way Raivis trembled behind him and the look on Nikolaj’s face; ignoring the feeling of dread in his stomach. “You can’t make me.”

“You are already a part of the Soviet Union,” Russia said, ignoring his shake of the head. “I talked with your bosses and they have agreed, it is best if you come live with me – both of you.”

That wasn’t his government, not his real one*. Just a fake one set up by Russia and his bosses. “I-”

“You have no choice.”

Raivis screamed from behind him, a cry that brought Estonia’s blood to a stop. He turned, seeing a soldier – for the first time this close to them – grabbing his brother nation by the arm, pulling him towards the back door.

“Let go of him.” Eduard moved forwards, letting go of Taani. “Stop, you’re hurting him.”

Russia appeared next to him, yanking him. “Get off me!” He shouted, eyes wild as he looked back towards his Taani, “You can’t!”

Raivis cried louder, the sound of him being dragged followed by the sound of things dropping – it was obvious that the Latvian was refusing to go quietly, instead trying his hardest to grab onto something that could stop them from being able to pull him out of the house.

“Come along now,” Russia said, a sickly sweet smile on his face. “It’s best for us all.”

This wasn’t the best for anyone, Estonia thought, shaking his head. “No,” he said, trying to yank his arm away from the taller nation, “Let go off me.”

Russia ignored him though, instead dragging him through the house towards the front door. His struggles were nothing to the stronger nation, the cries of Latvia had become muffled by distance – where that soldier was taking the other nation, Estonia had no clue – and Taani could just barely be seen pushing himself through the fray of Russian soldiers in hopes of getting close enough to put a stop to everything.

There were cars in front of his place, soldiers lining the space between. It was obvious they had expected a bit of resistance. Ivan stopped them in front of a car. There were two soldiers waiting outside it, a man in the front as undisturbed as if none of this was even happening.

Eduard looked back towards his home. He had words to say, things to speak into existence, but all he could do was to look longingly at Taani, who stood on his front stoop.

“Come, come, it’s time to pick up Lithuania and some of the others,” Russia said, giving him another wide smile. “We are going to be a family.”

A roaring sound filled the air, a sickening smell of smoke hit his throat. What…? No. No, not his – the soldiers that had been rummaging through his house had filed out quickly, lighting the place as they did so. “My home,” Estonia whispered, no.

“Oh my.” Taani had noticed the fire, rushing inwards. Ivan spoke again. “They were not supposed to do that.”

“What, destroy everything?”

Ivan shook his head, “In the car, now.” He pushed. The soldiers opened the door and forced him inside, one on each side so he had nowhere to escape to. Ivan stood outside it for a moment longer before he closed the door and turned away. From the corner of Estonia’s eye he could see the fires eat away at what he had built and for him, it was the most unfortunate metaphor for what was going on.

His world was, yet again, ending – though this time, it seemed more damaging; more unending; more painful. Closing his eyes as the car started, ignoring the two men on either of his side, he promised himself, he would not accept this. He would never accept this again.

He was the Republic of Estonia, he was not going to give up and allow all that he had fought for to be stolen from him.

_____________________

Some info:

*On September 24th 1939, the Estonian Foreign Minister was expecting to sign some trade agreement with the Soviets but instead was given an very shitty ultimatum. They were forced to make some concessions - lessened their troop numbers from 35000 to 25000 (how gracious, right /s) - but on September 28th, four days later, a Soviet-Estonian treaty was agreed to and became the basis for the Soviet-Latvian, Soviet-Lithuanian treaties later signed in October.

*Kurat is an Estonian swear word, I think it means like ‘devil’ or something but (and take this with a grain of salt here, please, I got this info from the Estonian Reddit) is kinda like fuck as well. Personally it just sounds nice so.. *shrugs*

* Дания, is Russian for Denmark.

* Да is Russian for ‘yes’.

*The last line is a reference to the fact that the Estonians, even in the face of this horrific bullshittery, stayed strong. Like honestly, they survived the Soviets, the Nazis, the Soviets again, and they’ve come out a pretty cool country. Obviously there are still the scars left behind by this shit, but like, they never gave up, not completely. They spoke their language when it become illegal, despite all that could’ve happened, they kept their flag, knowing that it was illegal. They snuck music in, they snuck people out, they scream into the void that is the world stage and demanded their freedom. Then they made the whole world notice them - and their fellow annexed Baltic states - by making the longest chain of humans, holding hands. I just - like come on, you gotta give it to them.

anyway, fuck the soviet union it sucked ass and the more i learn about it the more i feel bad for everyone who suffered under it- which was, as far as i can tell, literally everyone not in the soviet government.

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queenofdenest · 4 years ago

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Prompt: 5. Alt prompt:'Nightmare’ Series: Unofficial Whump.tober Fandom: Hetalia. Warnings/Tags: Angst. Fluff (no seriously a shitton of fluff). Characters: APH Est.onia. APH Den.mark. Pairings: DenEst. Summary: (Post Soviet Union/1991 fic). Den.mark has a nightmare.

A/N: Where the FLUFF have you been? you may ask me. I reply with a blank stare and some head tilting.No, I'm kidding, really, life has been just UGH! this entire year, has it not???? Since the last time we saw each other, my beloved cat died, the whole world entered a pandemic, my keyboard died (got a new one, obviously), my mouse died (in the process of getting a new one), i've fallen back into reading harry potter meta, i started watching the umbrella academy, i started rewatching naruto (and then stopping to decide to rewrite it), been working on fics that have nothing to do with anything i thought i had planned and i've just been not okay.

Really, I am so sorry that I've been absent, going to try and fix that since I love writing for DenEst and the entire Hetalia fandom in general. Hopefully this can tide people over for a bit?

This is for the whumptober prompt: nightmares - yes, I'm still doing these - and i decided denest for the pairings. No real warnings, there is some description of Den.mark's emotional status after a nightmare and some description of temporary loss [not death, the emotional sense of loss] but nothing else.

_____________________

Nikolaj woke with the large comforter missing from the bed, Eduard’s body heat gone, and light peeking into the room via the door being open slightly. His own heart was pounding as he threw the blankets off of him and dropped his feet to the cold wooden floors.

A small shiver went up his body. Between the freezing temperatures – the forecast had said that the night would hit a chilly -2°c, which was truly blasphemous in his opinion, barely out of November and the temperature was dipping so low – and the nightmare that had awoken him in the first place, he was unnerved. Hell, a stout wind would probably be able to send him to his knees.

Shaking his head, ridding his mind of those thoughts, he stood, grabbing his robe that was draped at the end of the bed like always. He’d find Eduard, drag the other back to bed, and hopefully never have to think about the idea of the other nation disappearing into Russia’s territory ever again.

(That last one was just wishful thinking – almost every nightmare that featured Estonia dealt with losing him in some way or other; either from some other nation, or the other dying a death in Denmark’s own arms).

The hallway was clear of the smaller nation, obviously. Less obviously was the fact that the second bedroom, the office, the computer room – a room that held more ripped apart electronics than computers – and the bathrooms were also clear.

The cold feeling in Nikolaj’s gut came back with full force. A quick pinch to his skin to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming – he wasn’t – before he decided to head down the stairs. There were more rooms down there, Eduard would be somewhere down there.

Yes, he thought, his lover either had to be down in the living room where the large fireplace sat or in the kitchen. Those were areas that Eduard often went whenever he had trouble sleeping. Tea was probably on table – some black bread set out with it because Eduard was ever the comfort creature.

The living room was empty beside the comforter set on the couch and the kitchen held only small sign s that Eduard had been in there in the form heat and scents coming from the oven. A quick peek in there and Nikolaj noticed that there was pot in there that hadn’t been there before he went to bed.

Another sniff.

Probably some sort of pot roast, Eduard loved making pot roasts.

Shaking his head again and yanking his robe closer to himself, Nikolaj looked out the window. Eduard had a barn and a small greenhouse on his property and that was excluding the small farm that he grew.

Lips meet teeth.

It wasn’t that Nikolaj had never been on Eduard’s property at night, he had been multiple times. It was just, he had always been with the other nation, never venturing out there alone. Perhaps it was that that was causing his hang up – or maybe the nightmare – or maybe even the fact that Denmark had always been slightly superstitious when it came to Estonian lands – but whatever it was, he had no desire to leave the house.

Yet, he needed Eduard; to see him, to touch him, to kiss him, to just know that the other nation hadn’t been snatched away from him. To know that it wasn’t a repeat of the time that Russia had come and taken Eduard from him, all but ripping him from what should’ve been a happy middle of their relationship.

A deep breath.

The nightmare was over. Russia was no longer an empire, nobody would take the Estonian from him.

A short laugh.

It was hilarious how he had fought in many deadly wars and yet the one thing that still haunted him was the sight of Eduard begging to be allowed to say goodbye.

Another deep breath.

“Nikolaj?”

Denmark turned towards the voice. “Eduard,” he said as he moved to grab the other. “I was so worried, where were you?”

“Root cellar,” he answered, giving a small smile. He leaned into Nikolaj’s hug. “I forgot to start something for us to eat for lunch – I figured a small stew would be nice for the picnic we planned, then I found that we had eaten the rest of the potatoes for dinner last night so I went into my stores for some.”

All the taller nation heard was that Eduard was fine, Eduard had left on his own free will and had come back the same. No one had taken him, no one had hurt him.

“It couldn’t wait until morning though?” Denmark asked as he pulled back, face set in a smile he didn’t feel.

“Well the stew takes up to three hours to cook, Taani.” Eduard moved towards the kitchen sink now that he was freed, “If we plan to leave the house mid-morning, I want it to be done well before that.”

Of course, Eduard was always one to keep plans on track. If Nikolaj had his way, they’d’ve had to wait until the next day for their picnic and well that would’ve kept him from panicking about the loss of Estonia, it also would’ve ruined his plans.

“Are you alright?” Eduard asked, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You seem… upset?”

Nikolaj stared at him for a moment. He didn’t want to upset Eduard, or worse, worry him, yet he wasn’t sure he could actually lie to the other. “I just had a bad dream,” he replied after a minute, “Not seeing you made it worse.”

The smaller man moved close, lifting a hand to cup his face. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to comfort you,” he said softly, “ Do you want to talk about it?”

Did he? Denmark wasn’t exactly sure. He didn’t want to bring up such a bad memory for the other, especially not when they had something great planned for the next day, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure he could go back to sleep without dealing with a bit of it.

After a moment, he nodded.

“Living room?”

Another nod.

“I’ll make us some hot chocolate, it won’t help up sleep but I know you’ve always favoured my recipe.” Eduard smiled, “If you want it that is?”

Nikolaj nodded quickly. Hot chocolate would always be better than tea when he wasn’t feeling right – especially Eduard’s tea. “I’ll get the fireplace going,” he said as he watched the other move away, the place where Eduard’s hand on his cheek going cold as he did so.

Eduard hummed as he pulled the kettle from the cupboard. Nikolaj moved to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, wrapping his arms around him for another hug.

“Thank you,” he said, lips on the other’s ear. “I’ll never let you go.”

_____________________

Additional Notes:

*Do Estonian homes have root cellars? I don't know, I don't have but I do think Eduard would have one since he also has a small farm and probably stocks up on food because history has never been kind to those who don't.

*Also this is kinda just a few years after the Soviet Union has fallen, which is why Denmark is still very emotional about the idea of losing Estonia. It's still a relatively looming prospect in his eyes so the nightmare hit harder than it would if I was placing this story further into the future of their relationship.

*Hot chocolate is probably not the best if you plan to go to bed right afterwards, I know it has caffeine and for some people that can affect their sleeping patterns, but like I got an Estonian hot chocolate recipe off the interwebs and for some reason it's perfect???? Also, supposedly there is a hot chocolate cafe or something that has some pretty good hot chocolate so there's also that.

*Denmark being superstitious when it comes to Eduard's home is just a headcanon that one day I have to write a story about - Estonian myths and legends are some really cool ones so I just figure that Denmark has probably run into something in the woods and has been a bit scared ever since.

*The weather mentioned in the beginning translates to like 28 degrees Fahrenheit which isn't exactly cold cold, but like I stole it off a website which says that on November 3rd, 2009, at 12 am to 6 am, it was 28 degrees Fahrenheit which translate to 2 degrees Celsius. Would it have been that cold when this story takes place?? I don't know, but for this story, it is.

Anyway, tell me what you thought? i love hearing from people. don't forget to kudos and come follow me on my various socials: tumblr: @queenofdenest insta: @clairebxrton

#aph denest #aph denmark #aph estonia #aph fanfic #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #v. pairing;; denest #iii. story;; mine #iii. story;; one shot #iii. story;; complete #vii. story;; whumptober 2k19 #vi. ooc;; memento's whumptober 2k19

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queenofdenest · 5 years ago

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Prompt: 1. shaky hands Fandom: Hetalia Characters: APH Den.mark. APH Est.onia. Pairing: Den/Est Warnings/Tags: slight angst. implied whump/trauma. pre-ship. Summary: Den.mark visits Est.onia after he’s been won his freedom from Rus.sia. (Post-1991/So.viet Occupation fic)

a/n: finally i’m living up to my url, i’m posting denest content! this is for whump.tober 2019 because 31 fic.tober prompts wasn’t enough for me, i decided to add more. if any of you want to look at the fic.tober/whump.tober prompt list and prompt me a pairing/character/what have you, you 10000% can, please. reblogs and likes and comments fill me with joy.

→

Denmark watched with wide. confused eyes as the driver drove him farther and farther from Tallinn. He had expected Estonia to take up as close as he could to his capital, as most nations did, now that he was freed from Soviet occupation. But, no, the driver drove silently through the streets, the place where Denmark had first met Estonia getting more fuzzy in the back window.

Folding his hands in his lap, he stared out at the disappearing urban – and suburban – streets and watched as the world drifted towards the countryside. Denmark, himself, had never traveled to Estonia’s countryside, not even when he owned the land. Looking at it now, the large trees, surrounding houses that looked like they needed better repair, he wondered if he would’ve fallen in love with it if he had.

Pushing those thoughts out of his brain as the driver slowed, he readied himself. When he had called Estonia nearly a week ago, asking if he could come visit, he hadn’t been prepared for the emotions he would feel with his feet actually walking land he had once walked. Of course, the streets were different and everywhere Denmark looked, he could notice some Soviet influence. Even as far as he was from Tallinn, he could see bits and pieces of Ivan’s country overtaking Estonia’s.

“Tänan,” he said as the car stopped in front of a house. It was old fashioned looking, but the roof had been repaired and the plants outside were new, obviously watered. The driver pulled out his luggage from the trunk and Denmark thanked him again - this time with a bit more money. It was a stupid he had started to pick up from meetings in America’s home.

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed his bag and lugged it towards the front door. His hand hesitated before he gave three large thumps on the sturdy wood. As he waited, he let his eyes drifted from the dark blue door towards the land surrounding the house. Forests were on either side, from what he could see, the street in front, a farm across. It seemed as if his former ward had made himself a nice little home.

Though, Denmark thought as the wind blew, cold and sharp, that perhaps he hoped Estonia owned a place somewhere a little closer to others.

The door opened as Denmark pulled his coat a little closer, “Taani.” Bright eyes, a large smile, Estonia stood tall as he leaned against the door frame. “You’re here!”

“Of course I am,” he said, giving his own bright smile. “I said I wanted to visit this week.”

Estonia nodded, “You did,” he said, before moving slightly, “Well come in, the weather forecast said it was going to be cold this week so I wasn’t sure-”

“Well, there’s nothing on this earth that can keep me from you anymore,” Denmark said softly. He watched as Estonia bent his head forwards a little, blushing. “I missed you,” he added after a moment, no longer caring that the wind could cut into flesh. “I should’ve-”

“No.” Estonia put a hand on his chest, stopping Denmark before he could finish his thought, “You couldn’t have stopped Mister - you couldn’t have stopped Russia from taking me or torching my old house. Please don’t blame yourself Nikolaj.”

Hearing his name being said from the Estonian was like heaven. He sighed. “Eduard,” he breathed, moving to wrap an arm around him.

“Come on in,” Eduard said softly, shaky hands as they pulled away from each other. “You’re freezing."

"I feel warmer with you,” Denmark said, but picked up his bag and followed him in.

The house was cozy warm, a bit too warm if he was being honest, and as soon as he placed his bag down, he shed the large winter coat he wore. A fire was going in the large stone fireplace and from the kitchen, he could smell dinner cooking. His stomach grumbled lightly and it brought a smile to Eduard’s lips.

“Dinner’ll be done soon,” he said, “I’ll take your bag up to the guest room."

As Eduard turned, Denmark felt his hope that they’d be able to rekindle a relationship falter a bit before he reminded himself that that was far too forward to think about. While they had been able to talk constantly on the phone, all they had done was focus on their friendship or their country relations. All this was, much to the inner part of his mind’s disappointment, was a friendly visit.

Moving to put his coat up in the entryway, Nikolaj looked around the house as best as he could. Everything was mismatched - old couches sat next to new tables and lamps; new art covered the old cream colored walls; plants littered empty corners along with small trinkets. There was also an inordinate amount of knitted blankets lying around.

Moving from the main room to the kitchen, Nikolaj opened the oven door, surprised to see that Eduard had yet to upgrade from a wood burning stove, yet excited to see what he figured was klassikaline ahjuliha. If there was one thing he’d be willing to admit is he truly missed Eduard cooking for him. Though he often had hit or misses with whether he liked the meal, a homemade meal always made him feel better.

"Nikolaj,” Eduard called as he walked down the stairs.

“Kitchen,” he called back, “I’ve missed your cooking.”

“I thought you said my food was bad more often than not?” Eduard pushed him away to check on it.

Nikolaj shrugged. “Gonna be honest, I always thought you were trying to poison me when you cooked for me so I let Iceland try it and if he said it sucked, I wouldn’t eat it."

"You know he could’ve been lying."

"Yeah, I figured that out a little too late.” By time Norway pointed out that Estonia and his food was fattening up Iceland, his kingdom was starting to crumble around him. Taking a deep breath, he forced a smile, “Anyway, how have you been?"

The question seemed to catch Eduard by surprise; he stalled in his movement, hands shaking again as he stared at the white bowls he had gotten from the cupboards. "I’m fine,” he answered after a second, shaking his head as he did so. “Very busy though. I’m constantly fielding phone calls from our fellow nations."

"Well,” Nikolaj started slowly, hands reaching for the bowls, “Russia’s bosses kept most of us from being able to talk to you guys; we had to get clearance just to talk to Russia - it was impossible to even think about talking to any of you.”

“I know,” Eduard muttered, shaking his head, “I understand, it’s just fills my days up with talking and people asking me the same questions and I’d rather be helping my bosses or my people."

"Talking to other nations is important,” Nikolaj said. “It helps make connections - and in our case, rekindle some."

"Connections don’t stop-” he paused but Nikolaj could guess what was going unsaid. “No, you’re right, I have to stop thinking like that."

Nikolaj moved forwards, putting the bowls down on the counter. "Eduard,” he muttered softly, ready to wrap his arms around the other.

Eduard though moved far too quickly. “Could you go set the table?” He rubbed at his left arm, turning back to the oven, “There’s a salad in the fridge and there’s either beer, wine, or vodka, take your pick.”

Watching him, Nikolaj nodded. He picked up the bowls again and moved towards the little wooden table near the kitchen door. Placing them on different sides, he turned to get a beer from the fridge. He watched Eduard silently for a second.

Norway - and Finland - had warned him that Eduard wouldn’t be the same as he had when Denmark had last seen him; gaining freedom only to lose it in a blink of an eye weighed heavily on one, Finland had said. Especially since living with Russia had been hard the last time.

At the time, Nikolaj had just shook his head and ignored them, but now as he watched Eduard pull a pot from the oven and stir it with an intensity he had never seen before, he finally understood.

Once upon a time, Eduard had gone at him with weapons, defending his people and his land with a fierceness that Nikolaj had fallen in love with; now he had trouble keeping his hands from shaking if he weren’t doing anything. Nikolaj felt his heart sink slightly.

“Nikolaj?” Eduard spoke and while he was soft in his words, there was a slight edge behind them, “Close my fridge please."

"Oh,” Nikolaj laughed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry, mind went rambling."

"It’s fine,” Eduard replied, turning to carry the oven pot towards the table. He shook his head and Nikolaj furrowed his brows, looking at the table. He was sure he got everything– “I know salads aren’t your favourite, but it’s apart of dinner,” Eduard teased.

Nikolaj rolled his eyes. “Where’s that potato dish of yours?” He liked that.

“My potatoes are still growing,” Eduard answered, looking out the back door for a moment, “A couple more weeks and they should be done."

"Maybe I should come back then,” he offered, giving a hopeful look as he made to sit.

Eduard looked at him, eyes glazed over. “I’d like that,” he said, giving a smile, “Though you’ll have to help me harvest them.”

“I can do some farm work for some potatoes.” Nikolaj looked down at Eduard’s hands before looking to his face. Maybe one day he’d get the answers on what caused Eduard’s hands to shake, but at the moment, just being with him was enough.

——–

Notes.

Tänan = a form of thank you in Estonian. Its more formal, I think. Honestly don’t listen to me. I know the word kõik. Potato harvest is fall/early winter. Can you grow potatoes in Estonia, I don’t know. Perhaps he has a greenhouse. It is my personal headcanon that Estonia lives on a farm. Why, you may ask. I don’t know, I just do. The house is nice and as times change, he modernizes it. It is also my headcanon that Estonia has always lived on a farm when living in his own country. He also owns an apartment in Tallinn. I always figured the Soviet Era was just a big isolation period for everyone on that side of the Iron Curtain. Like there was some contact, but at the same time, not a lot.

#aph estonia #aph denmark #denest #hws denmark #hws estonia #hetalia fanfiction #iii. story;; mine #v. pairing;; denest #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #iii. genre;; angst #iii. genre;; romance #vii. story;; whumptober 2k19 #vi. ooc;; memento's whumptober 2k19

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queenofdenest · 5 years ago

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Prompt: 5. "I might just kiss you." Series: Unofficial Fic.tober 2k19 Fandom: Hetalia. Characters: aph den.mark. aph est.onia. minor bit of aph fin.land Pairings: denest. Warnings/Tags: None Summary: Impromptu visits, Nikolaj knew weren't the best

A/N: cute fluffy denest because the next time you see this ship on this blog it’s just going to be angsty and angsty. anyway. this is just some fun that was cute to write. hope you guys enjoy. if you want to prompt me anything from the prompt list RIGHT HERE then please do!

__________

With the birds chirping and the lake a nice cool balm against the heat, Nikolaj swam from one end to the other, a smile on his face. "It's so nice!" He called to Eduard, who sat on the lakeside, his feet in the water and a phone to his ear.

Impromptu visits, Nikolaj knew weren't the best, but with the weather climbing high this weekend, he figured that Eduard would've asked for time off. He hadn't, of course, which was the reason he was on the phone instead of swimming in the cool water.

"Uh huh," Eduard was saying as Nikolaj swam towards him. Laying his head on Eduard's lap, skin wetting the other's pants, Nikolaj listened to the conversation. He had always liked Eduard's language; it was gentle and musical, and hearing it now as the world was near silent, he could remember the first time he met Eduard.

Long before his people had won the battle that had given him Eduard’s nation with the strength they were given by God, Nikolaj could remember traveling with his people; going into battles, sailing the seas, the occasional heading into a port town to trade. It had been in one of the port towns in Finland's lands that he had met Eduard.

The weather had been nice that day, the sun had been shining bringing rays of heat down. Nikolaj had been talking to the leader of the village, wondering where Tino was. He had been told that a foreigner from the south had come to town, taking Tino to the forests for a fortnight.

Though Tino’s lands were not yet his at the time, Nikolaj still spent an inordinate amount of time bossing the other nation around and the idea that Tino had taken off for a fortnight without warning had caused a bit of anger to rise -- he could remember, with shame, the anger he had felt as a younger nation, that, thankfully as time had gone on, had calmed down. At the time though all he knew was that Tino, the one nation who listened as he bitched about Sweden, had disappeared.

Of course, right as he was about to threaten the man, he could hear Tino’s laughter ringing throughout the air.

(If Nikolaj was completely honest with himself, back when he was still a young nation and his people had yet to become the rulers of the North, he had a bit of a crush on Finland.)

He had left the man with nothing more than a glare and an unspoken threat and wandered around until he found Tino jumping into the water away from where the boats docked. In the water, he spotted another boy in the water and his eyes had widened.

“Oled liiga väsinud,” The melodic words caught his attention and he had stopped in his footsteps, heart beating so loudly in his ears that he missed the last bit of what was being said before loud laughter filled the air.

There were many myths that his people held that spoke of water creatures and for a moment Nikolaj could believe that the boy in the water was a nikke, coming to steal Tino from his people, but the more he stared, the more he felt like he was the one being lured into the ocean.

“Tanska!” Tino waved from his spot in the water, drawing his attention away from the other blond boy in the water. Quick words of Tino’s own language - melodic as well, but not quite the same as the foreigners’ - and the most happy nation he had ever met was swimming towards him. “I wish you had written, me and Maa would’ve taken you with us to the forests!”

Maa? Nikolaj lifted an eyebrow. That wasn’t particularly a name he had ever heard of. It showed on his face and the boy shook his head.

“I’m not taking the name Johannes keeps trying to give me,” he explained, his voice just as melodic as the words he had been speaking earlier. “I refuse.”

Tino shook his head, “You should be careful, he’s gaining more land and power, soon you might have to go to war with him.”

Maa shrugged, the water rippling around him as he swam backwards slightly, “My people will win,” he said, his voice confident despite the look that Tino was giving him. “Is Tanska going to come in the water?”

Tino frowned for a moment before nodding his head, “You should join us, the weather has been so good for swimming.”

Now, so many years later, Nikolaj pulled himself from the past as he felt a hand brushing through his hair. Lifted his head, he looked up at the sea green eyes of his lover. “I just might kiss you,” he whispered and Eduard laughed lightly.

“No, no, not you sir,” he said in the phone, shaking his head. “I’ll be sure to get some paperwork done while he’s here. Thank you. Yes, of course, thank you.”

“No seriously,” Nikolaj said, wrapping his dripping arms around Eduard’s waist. “I really might, just keep speaking.”

“Of course,” Eduard moved slightly, dropping his phone on the grass next to him. “My bosses are going to think something inappropriate is going on.”

He laughed, moving back slightly, dragging a fully clothed Eduard with him. “Well let’s not disappoint them then,” he said as the other flailed in a desperate, but ultimately futile attempt to not fall in.

“Taani!”

�� __________

Taani = Denmark in Estonian. Nikke = ancient Scandinavia/Danish water spirit. Is a shapeshift. Often male. Lures people to water. Tanska = Denmark in Finnish. Maa = estonian. Land/ground/earth. I feel like at the time he wouldn't take a human name, instead just go by Estonian words. Oled liiga väsinud = you are tired, or again, should, because google translate is as reliable as politicians.

Last bit last, nikolaj’s thing about tino’s language not being as melodic, just him thinking that because he’s gotten used to hearing it so often while not having heard estonian a lot. personally the same happened to me after a while with french. so pretty at first, now i don’t blink when i hear it.

#aph denmark #aph estonia #hws denmark #hws estonia #hetalia fanfiction #denest #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #v. pairing;; denest #iii. story;; mine #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #vi. ooc;; memento's fictober 2k19 #vii. story;; fictober 2k19

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queenofdenest · 5 years ago

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Prompt: 2. Explosion + dehydration Series: Unofficial Whump.tober 2k19 Fandom: Hetalia. Characters: APH Den.mark. APH Est.onia. Warnings/Tags: human/nations names used interchangable. whump. mention of dehydration. mention of death. gallows humor. mention of explosion/terrorism. Pairing: DenEst. Summary: An explosion traps them in an elevator.

A/N: all my whump.tobers [ at least most of them okay ] is just me putting denest in it and being sad that there’s so much whump involved. anyway, this isn’t my favourite of the prompt’s i’ve written so far, but it’s not the worst. ** edit: this fic has nothing to do with any real life situations. this is a scenario cooked up in my elevator-hating brain.

→ ____________

“Fuck,” Nikolaj muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair and looking around the small space. His eyes met Estonia’s and he slumped to the ground. “We’ve been here for like two days."

"Three days, actually,” Eduard muttered softly through chapped lips. For the first day and a half, he had sung song after song to keep calm, which hadn’t been a total waste as it had kept them from completely freaking out when the elevator fell a few inches from where it had become stuck after the explosion hit.

“How have we’ve not been found yet?” It wasn’t a real question, they both knew that at the time, governments would be scrambling to figure out how to deal with an explosion at the hotel where they and their delegates stayed. It could take a long while before they were found.

Neither wanted to say that though. Nikolaj frowned as he leaned his head on Eduard’s shoulder. “Well,” he started as he brushed sweat off his forehead, “we’ll be found soon - Tino’s probably going crazy without us there."

If Tino hadn’t been caught up in the explosion as well. No, Nikolaj shook his head, he couldn’t think like that.

"We’re going to die soon,” Eduard mumbled softly, eyebrows burrowing as he did so. “We finished the water bottles yesterday–” While going through their individual bags, they had managed to pull together enough resources to last them two days. “–and while the food might last a bit longer, the heat's going to make everything truly unbearable.”

“We’ll just get naked like that winter we got stuck hiding in that abandoned building in your forests,” Nikolaj replied, thinking back to that time years ago. The stupid snowstorm had come out of nowhere - at least for him - and they had stuck it put like it was the olden days. It felt nice to get back to the basics.

Eduard shook his head, “I’ve died of dehydration, I don’t want to do it again."

Desperation underlined his voice and Nikolaj felt a pull at his heart. Dehydration wasn’t a thing that had killed him yet, large wounds and drowning and fire and other such had, and with the way Eduard was acting, he felt that same desperation clawing at his throat.

Pushing it down, he replied, “We’ll be found before that happens,” in his strongest voice. He wasn’t exactly sure if it was true - in fact, if he thought on it long enough, he figured that it was just a lie to make them both feel better - but he managed to keep his voice from wavering as he said it.

“Taani-”

“No, Eduard.” Nikolaj laid a hand on the Estonian’s hand as he continued, “We’ve gotta keep a positive attitude.”

Eduard stared at him in what Nikolaj could only guess was complete and utter disbelief and he was about to say something when the elevator made a gut wrenching sound. “It’s hard to stay positive,” Eduard muttered as they inched closer to each other. They were practically sitting on one another, but still.

Another ominous sound filled the air before a sudden silence. “We won’t dehydrate if we crash and die at the bottom,” Nikolaj said softly. “You know, that’s good.”

“Positive.”

He looked towards the other, “That was as positive as I could get,” he said watching as a smile curled Eduard’s lips slightly. “Why are you–”

Loud, angry, hot screeching filled the air as the elevator dropped suddenly. Their screams was equally as loud but less likely to be heard by anyone. Not that Nikolaj believed anyone was looking where they were. Stupidly they had decided to take the elevator on the less used side of the hotel, wanting privacy.

The elevator came to a stop, the sound of gears grinding and their screams quieted as it settled wherever it decided to settle. “Next time,” Eduard started after a moment, “We can take the stairs and make out in the stairwell instead, okay?”

He nodded, “Yeah, sounds good.”

“At least,” Eduard began as he stared at the silver doors of the elevator, “If it crashes down to the ground and we both die, we’ll most likely die simultaneously.”

“That’s not positive,” Nikolaj teased gently. It was true. Simultaneous deaths, he thought as he swatted Eduard’s shoulder as the other playfully bumped him, would keep either of them from having to watch the other die.

“Well that was as positive as I could get.” Staring at the other, Nikolaj lifted an eyebrow. It was probably the lack of air, food, and the impending sense of death, but he couldn’t help but laugh loudly at the sight of Eduard’s face set in such a bored look. “What are you laughing at?” He asked after a second, causing Nikolaj to laugh louder.

“It’s just-” he paused, trying to swallow down the laughter that was still bubbling out. Another clang sounded. Eduard turned towards the door.

“A delirious state brought on by our current situation?” Eduard lifted an eyebrow as he turned back towards him. “Or perhaps-”

“You’re so freaked out,” Nikolaj interrupted. “You’ve been squeezing my hand nonstop, sleeping close by – you’re copying some of my bad jokes.”

“I am not!” Eduard snatched his hand away as he spoke, “I’m just - it’s just -”

More clangs, this time followed by the sound of metal screeching. This time though, Nikolaj and Eduard watched as the doors to the elevator began to open slightly. “Shared hallucination?” Nikolaj asked.

“Doubtful.”

“It’s not you idiots,” Norway’s voice sound from somewhere distant.

“Actually, I rescind my judgement, it probably is.”

Norway’s face pushed into the small opening. “It’s not. We’ve been-”

“We’ve been looking for you!” Finland’s face popped in, the sound of Norway landing on the ground causing a smile to grow on Nikolaj’s face. “This is the last elevator and Latvia said he saw you guys go in it – of course, it took him a full day to admit it, I’m sure he wanted to keep your secret, but once no one could find you guys.”

“Tino!” Eduard moved closer to the door, “How much longer until we’re freed?”

“Oh, right,” Finland said before moving away slightly, talking in a low voice. He came back a second later, “No more than twelve hours.”

Nikolaj’s jaw dropped and from the corner of his eye, he could see Eduard make a face. “Okay,” he muttered, moving forward himself and pushing the Estonian behind him, “We can do that.”

“Got anything to drink though?” Eduard asked sarcastically from behind him.

“Actually yes,” Norway answered, swatting Finland away from the entrance, “We weren’t sure if we’d find you guys alive or not -”

“Norway!”

“– but we decided to put together a small bag in case we did,” he finished as if Finland hadn’t spoken at all. A small brown bag was then pushed through the small gap in the doors, “Try not to have sex while stuck here.”

“That’s probably the last thing on their minds,” Finland said from behind the doors. The way he sounded his face was probably Santa colored red. “And stop saying embarrassing stuff around normal people!”

“Well, now that we’ve got food, we’ll get right to having sex don’t you worry, Norge.” Nikolaj handed Eduard the bag, listening as he rifled through it for something to drink. “There’s nothing sexier than being trapped in an elevator.”

Norway lifted an eyebrow and added, “There’s a walkie talkie in there, we’ll be judging you from a safer distance.”

“Wait!” Nikolaj called as the Norwegian nation dragged Tino from the door before the blond could say anything else, “What do you mean safer distance!?”

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Notes:

Taani = Denmark in Estonian.

Not much else. Please remember to take care of yourself and drink liquid/water. Dehydration sucks.

#aph estonia #aph denmark #hws denmark #hws estonia #denest #hetalia fanfiction #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #iii. story;; mine #vii. story;; whumptober 2k19 #vi. ooc;; memento's whumptober 2k19

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queenofdenest · 5 years ago

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Prompt:4. Alt prompt: 'Touch-starved' Series: Unofficial Whump.tober Fandom: Hetalia. Warnings/Tags: Angst (with a happish ending). Referenced torture. Characters: APH Est.onia. APH Den.mark. APH Fin.land. APH Swe.den. Pairings: Implied DenEst. Summary: (Post Soviet Union/1991 fic). Sometimes there is a hunger inside you that you can’t fix alone.

A/N: This is a deeply personal fic. I have such issues with human contact - last time I laid in a bed with a person, I made sure I had my own blanket cause I absolutely hate skin to skin contact, yet at the same time I crave hugs and human contact. It’s weird, I know. I can remember being like five and telling my mom not to hold my hand as we walked back home from school and yet crying if I didn’t get a hug from someone. I have such issues when it comes to human contact/interaction and it all comes from trauma that I’m just carrying with me. Anyway. I am posting this because it’s my birthday and I really wanted to get some more DenEst all over my blog.

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→

Two hours worth of a shower is wasteful, Estonia thought as he patted himself dry with a fluffy towel. Especially since he had just taken a three hour bath in the morning. If it continued on this way -- which was most likely -- then he was going to have to figure something out because his house still ran on a water tank that refused to work properly and he had no desire to go back to heating water via pots on the stove. Especially since his stove was still an old wood burning one.

Contrary to the popular belief that just because he loved technology and certain modern amenities, it didn’t mean that his house was outfitted with all of the new stuff. It would be no problem to do so, he knew that, but at the same time, there was something about inviting a stranger into his home to fix it up that caused a twinge in his stomach. The less people who knew about his farmhouse, the better.

Denmark knew, a traitorous part of his brain said. And it was true. The Northern nation knew and had even visited, but he had been the only one. Others who came by believed that he owned an apartment in the heart of Tallinn.

As he dressed in his pajamas and slipped on a pair of slippers, he shook his head. If he thought too hard on why he kept his distance from people, he’d have to think about the fact that it was the same reason he kept his physical distance from people. That was something he tried very hard to not think about. Too much thinking on that and he’d imagine how it good it would feel to have someone stroke his skin and kiss his cheeks and --

And then the good thoughts would be taken over by how it felt when Russia’s bosses ordered him and Latvia and Lithuania to be taken to that facility where they were questioned for months about the chain their people had created and the protests and then the thoughts would go back to when he had been questioned earlier in his captivity about how people were escaping, how his people who had escaped screamed for the rest of the world to take notice - to not allow the Soviets to destroy their homes.

Dark dingy, obtusely cold rooms taunted him from the back of his mind and Estonia moved to grab a knitted blanket off his couch as he bypassed it. The chill of the rooms swept over his skin again, freezing it. If he listened closely, he was sure he could hear Latvia crying and Lithuania muttering prayers from somewhere down a hallway.

And if he closed his eyes as he walked through his own home, he could be teleported straight to the room where they had placed him under water for hours.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. Estonia opened his fridge and pulled out the milk and walked it (back) to the stove. As he worked on starting yet another cup of hot chocolate, he decided not to focus on the fact that he had been taking long showers and baths, that he had been drinking an exorbitant amount of hot chocolate and hot tea and coffee, that he had been spending his nights wrapped up in the largest, fluffiest blanket he owned and sitting in the barn, spending his nights sleeping in the corner of a stall, wishing that instead of just having a barn, he had animals inside.

No, instead, he decided to focus on the ticking of the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Once done with his hot chocolate, he placed everything in the sink - or in the case of the milk, back in the refrigerator - and moved towards the living room. The fireplace was still warm from when he had first started it early in the morning and he settled right in front of it, his back leaning against the solid wood coffee table.

The clock ticked on. The night brought the bad memories. The blanket wrapped tightly around him tried to fight them away. In the end, Estonia listened as the phantom screams intruded in his mind, as nightmarish caricatures of people tortured him, his brothers, his people.

He felt his skin crawl from the cold, from the idea of touch, while his mind screamed for someone - anyone - to lay a hand on him.

And still, the clock ticked and tocked and ticked and tocked.

If he brushed his hand against his own arm in a failed attempt to fight off the urge for physical contact of some kind, Estonia would never admit to it. Just like he’d never admit to jumping as a loud knock sounded on his door.

No one knew where he lived. Only Denmark and Denmark wouldn’t tell.

Slowly, he made to get up. Unless - No! Nothing could get Denmark to tell where he was. Nothing. Of course, torture could do horrible things and get people to do what they never thought they could do.

As strong as he thought he had been the first time he was taken and questioned, he learned quickly that no one can withstand some things and that --

“Eduard!”

He let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding, shaking his head as he did so. It was Taani. Moving quicker towards the front door, he opened it, surprised to see not just the Northern nation, but Sweden and Finland as well.

So he had been right, Taani did spill the beans. “What-”

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks!” Tino said as he hugged him, pushing what was left of the large fluffy blanket to the ground. “I’ve been so worried, how could you ignore me like that!”

Before he could answer though, Tino was already pushing him aside to let himself in, those micronations that had latched themselves onto him rushing in as well. “It’s okay, I know it wasn’t on purpose,” Tino continued, completely oblivious as to the confusion on his face. “You needed space. I can get that.”

Sweden moved past him too, trying to wrangle in the smaller wannabe nations. Taani moved forward and picked up the blanket. “I was at the airport, I had texted-”

Estonia nodded. “I saw.”

“Well I wasn’t sure and my bosses were yelling at me for falling asleep last meeting and you said that if I needed your notes--” Taani gave him a crooked smile, “Unfortunately, I ran into Tino and Berwald at the airport. Tino had been at your Tallinn apartment - you’ve got to show it to me, I only know about this place - and when I said I was visiting you, well, you know how Tino is when he puts his mind to something.”

Unbearable. His best friend was nearly insane if he felt like putting his all into something. “The meeting wasn’t-”

“You’ve been no contact with anyone for about three weeks,” Taani replied, cutting him off. “I’ve gotta admit, I was a little worried too.”

He nodded absentmindedly. Three weeks of long showers was going to look bad when he was in his proper mindset. “Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat and grabbing the blanket from Taani’s hands. “I’m sorry Tino, I got sidetracked.”

Tino basically flew from the kitchen, giving him a sore look. “Don’t apologize,” he said, a surprising twist from the scolding he was sure was going to happen. Tino gave both Taani and Sweden a look that had them scampering off to the kitchen with the kids before speaking again. “I understand. It feels like no time has passed since - well since the bad times and you need some time alone.”

Time alone was probably the last thing he needed. “Still,” he tried to stress as he moved to drop the blanket on the couch, “I-”

Tino wrapped his arms around him, holding him close. “We’ll fix this together,” he muttered as Estonia felt himself burrow his face into Tino’s neck. A shiver ran down his spine as Tino squeezed him slightly. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

With a shaking breath, he asked, “Can you just keep hugging me?” to which Tino laughed and held on tighter.

“Not letting go ever.”

Parts of him warred. The parts that sung with joy were thankful that someone was hugging him, while the parts that screamed that everyone betrayed you in the end, told him to pull away to protect himself. But he couldn’t. Tino was strong and warm and smelled suspiciously like apple cider.

“Did you bring your apple cider here?” He asked as he made an attempt to let go of the other. “No, Tino, seriously, did you?”

“You mean my delicious and slightly famous amongst the other nations apple cider? The one that won the best drink awards for six years in a row and has become a staple for final nights potluck dinners? That one?”

The smug tone brought a smile to Estonia lips, “Yes,” he said, squirming lightly. “Let go so I can get some.”

“I said I was never letting go ever,” Tino replied, “I can’t break that promise.”

“Tino!”

Cheerful laughter filled the room. It wasn’t enough to fight back the overwhelming depression that hit him, just like that week when Taani visited him and they spent nights laying out on a blanket together watching the stars hadn’t either, but perhaps, Estonia thought as he managed to unlatch himself from his best friend, perhaps it was a start.

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Notes:

- Taani = Denmark in Estonian. I also have a bad habit of having Estonia call Denmark that during fics as like a pet name, I don’t know why. I’m bad at pet names I’ve been in like one relationship, it failed, so!

- Tino has a special apple cider drink because my Oma’s friend who’s family supposedly came from Finland had a very very good apple cider drink that she shared whenever my family threw a large get together during the fall/winter months, mostly during our large Christmas party and I loved it.

- Skin hunger/touch-starvation is a real thing and it can cause some problems. Please be sure to take good care of yourselves and if you’re feeling bad go get a hug from someone you trust, it’s not going to solve all of your problems but it is going to help you feel slightly better.

- This is probably my fave Whumptober fic I’ve written so far. It’s probs my fave aph estonia fic I’ve written as well. This isn’t really a note, more of me just talking again.

- oh wait, wood burning stoves. from some of the estonian blogs-forums-youtubers i’ve seen from googling, i’ve found people who mention that they still have one, but i’m not sure if it’s as common. i decided that eduard has one more for aesthetics/a connection he likes. personally my house has a wood burning stove in what used to be the kitchen and my best friend’s parents house still had one so i’m guess it’s more personal choice. personally i’m all for electric but i’m terrified of gas leaks so.

- also the water tank part is taken from the fact that my house’s water tank sucks and will randomly give me cold water when i’ve asked for hot. it’s a effing joke okay. never trust american made products okay. they suck. (i say as an american).

- also the barn. my uncle lived on a farm. when i stayed there once they found me curled up in a stall. younger me had issues.

- also. read old american newspapers. there are a million and one articles - thankfully - from estonians, or latvians, or lithuanians, or romanians, or etc, begging the governments of the western world to not forget that their home countries were occupied and their friends and family was being tortured and it’s honestly harrowing.

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queenofdenest · 7 years ago

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title: a forever type of way pairings: denest warnings: none (for once) author: mementomoripontifexmortis summary: he had always dreamed of being one, but never thought he’d actually get to one. or aph den.mark is actually a person who dreams of finding The One. a/n: i haven’t written anything denest-y in about nine or ten months, at least not finished anything and that, for someone who calls her blog the queen of said ship, is a shame. so here’s random, 5 am denest written in about two hours.

Denmark had never thought he’d be one half of an ‘oh them, they’ve been together forever’ couple. It was never a thought he’d let himself get attached to. The ever-changing political landscape was, well, ever-changing and so it left too much instability for such long-term relationships to form. Occasionally, like in the case of Sweden and Finland, the stars would align and grant two nations the chance to have a pretty proper courtship, but for the majority of them, it was a lot of blood, sweat and tears to get even a small term relationship.

Of course a small term relationship in the eyes of a nation still lasted decades and decades, but it wasn’t the sort of relationship that Denmark, in his early days, had dreamed of.

Oh, maybe it was the fault of the man who had no name, the one who raised him and taught him that the greatest thing for any of their kind was to find the one who would battle beside you. Or maybe it was because culture seemed to dictate finding the second half of your battle couple be an important part of your life. But whatever it was, Denmark had always dreamed of being one.

Not that he’d ever admit it.

So finding out that he had always been one, at least in the eyes of the rest of the world, brought about several different emotions. Most of it could be pared down to excitement because it meant that he had fulfilled a dream, something far too rare for their kind, but other bits of it was confusion and questioning. Because him and Estonia had broken up multiple times; most of those times in the faces of other nations – hell, one of the most memorable break ups happened during a New Years Eve party back in 1999 – yet most of the other nations seemed to agree that they were such a couple.

“You both always do end up in each others arms after a few years,” England had said, well, slurred, and Denmark had to pause at that.

It was true, they always did. Last break up had lasted all of two months, and Iceland had referred to them not as an ‘oh them, they’ve been together forever’ couple but instead an ‘off-again, on-again, when will they just admit they love each other’ couple. There were other terms the Nordic nations referred to them as, but most of them had negative connotations.

“Anyway, that’s why none of your relationships work out,” England continued on, ignoring the look Denmark had on his face. “Who wants to date someone long-term when you know that asshole is always going to be pining after someone else? It’d be torture.”

“I don’t pine.” Denmark countered, frowning and shaking his head. Better to let those thoughts go then hang onto them. “Anyway, how’d you know me and Estonia got together again anyhows?”

This time it was Prussia, who Denmark could’ve sworn was fast asleep against the bar, who laughed and spoke up, “You’ve got that hair, y’know the one that says you just got laid and you’re really proud of yourself – like a peacock!”

Pouting slightly, he reached up to touch his hair while his friends laughed loudly and obnoxiously about the word peacock. How their conversation turned from battle techniques into this, he’d never know and quite frankly, he didn’t really care. Downing his drink, he stood up, tossing money on the bar while ignoring the bartender yelling about the fact that his money wasn’t accepted there. “Whatever you two miserable drunks, I’m going back to the hotel.”

Turning on his heel, he walked out of the bar, before turning back and walking past his friends who were laughing louder. His dramatic exit was ruined by the fact that they were drinking in the hotel bar. Cursing at them loudly as he left, confusing the other drinkers and managing to piss off the bartender even more, Denmark decided against taking the elevator. Showing up on his floor after having dramatically taken the stairs two at a time would be better for his entire declaration.

An ‘oh them, they’ve been together forever’ couple had rules; there had to be an official declaration of love – something neither of them were fond of doing as it was one of their main reasons for breaking up time and time again – and Denmark would be damned if it wasn’t him.

Let it be known though that Drunk Denmark and Sober Denmark had two very different ideas of what a proper declaration was – Sober Denmark would’ve done said declaration not in the middle of a hotel hallway in front of his partner’s hotel room that he shared with his brothers for monetary savings, instead somewhere romantic, maybe the first place they ever met, spoken in Estonia’s language that way he could show that he was serious about it, but Drunk Denmark had different plans so two steps at a time, up six flights he sprinted, rushing down the hallway when he finally got where he needed to go.

Pounding on the door, his heart racing and body trembling, he waited only a second before hollering, “Estonia, come on, Eduard, I know you’re in there.”

He had so many words to say, so many promises and assurances that now that they were a forever couple, things between them would be different. No more would Iceland’s description fit them, they’d be the proper battle couple, thought without the fighting as it was the modern times and more often than not, nations did not join their military. His hand raised, he pounded on the door once more before it opened, showing Lithuania staring at him with a face best described as completely done.

“What?”

“Eduard?” Denmark asked, because even piss drunk he knew that a pissed off Lithuania was not something he wanted to deal with.

Blank faced and bored, Lithuania turned slightly and said something in Lithuania before walking away. The empty doorway stayed empty for a few seconds before Eduard appeared, wrapped in a blanket and a frown on his face.

“Taani, have you been drinking?” He asked with a tender look on his face. Falling in love all over again, Denmark pulled the slightly smaller nation towards him and kissed his face, all words forgotten. He always loved that about Estonia, the way the Baltic nation seemed to care far too much.

“As a ‘they’ve been together forever’ couple,” Denmark started, keeping his grip on the Baltic nation, his head dropped to speak directly in his ear, “we’ve gotta be as one.”

A flush spread across Estonia’s cheeks and he murmured out, “Romantic,” before shaking his head, pulling Denmark into the darkened room. “Latvia, go sleep on Lithuania’s bed, Taani’s drunk.”

“No I’m not.” He pouted again as he was dragged to sit on one edge of the bed, while Estonia helped him pull off the jacket he was wearing. “I’m quite sober, promise, I only had three beers and two shots and a thingy of tequila – which is such a weird drink and -”

“You’re drunk,” Estonia said, brushing a thumb across Denmark’s cheek, “Now, shush, we’ve got a meeting later, push your shoes off.”

Denmark did as told, toeing the boots off, before flopping down on the bed. “We’ve gotta come up with a ship name,” He muttered in the darkness, hands searching for his lover to pull close, “I’m not sure how to merge our names.”

“I don’t think we need a ship name,” Estonia smiled, bright in the dark room, “But if we do, we can go to the internet.”

“We’re a forever couple.”

The Baltic nation laughed lightly, “Even with how often we break up?” He asked, the smile slightly bitter.

They had a long history of hurting each other; betrayals and break ups littered their personal histories, but Denmark was willing to bet that they still counted as a forever couple. Nodding, he said softly, much to the consternation of a very tired Lithuania, “Forever couples will gravity together.”

“Gravitate, you mean,” Estonia interrupted and Denmark nodded again.

“Yeah, that.” Sighing into Estonia’s shoulder, Denmark added, “I always wanted to be a forever couple with you, I bet we could’ve taken over the entire world.”

“Still can if you want,” came the reply.

A huff of air came from the other side of the room, "If you two lovebirds don't shut up," Lithuania started, his words trailing off in Lithuanian, something which made Estonia laugh loudly and Latvia gasp and cross himself in the dark.

"Come on, Taani, let's sleep, we can come up with a ship name tomorrow during the meeting."

[End]

#aph denmark #aph estonia #aph denest #denest #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #ii. character;; aph prussia #ii. character;; aph england #ii. character;; aph latvia #ii. character;; aph lithuania #iii. story;; mine #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #iii. genre;; romance #iii. genre;; humor #iii. genre;; fluffy #v. pairing;; denest #iv. hetalia fic;; a forever type of way

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queenofdenest · 6 years ago

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title: piece by piece pairings: nyo!denest warnings: angst, mention of throwing up, light swearing, author: mementomoripontifexmortis summary: five moments in their lives and the one that changed it. a/n: i wrote the first half of this while having only slept for five hours and then being up for an entire day so it’s a little weirder than normal but I really like it so i decided to keep it. also i love this and it’s full angst af bc lbr here, the relationship between these two would be so filled with angst but in the end it’s really cute and i think you guys will like this. anyway, don’t forget to like and reblog so i know if you did. any historical part that sounds 100% wrong is probably 100% wrong and was written like so because bubbles needed to do that, I accept 100% blame. anyway, this is beta’d by my beloved sister and any remaining mistakes are my own.

I. The first time she met Taani, she had been on a trade job with her people; Kalev calling for her from the shore, telling her that it was safe. For a second, she hadn’t believed it, how could they who had been enemies at times, be also friends? But she had never doubted Kalev, for she was sure he was sent to protect her and her realm just as sure as he was that she was the gift given to him and his people to lead them into wars. So she crept from the ship, her language on her tongue as he worked the other language from his and talked to those who belonged there.

It was then she had felt it.

A ghosting touch as if the person from the before period had come back for her, but instead, she saw no woman standing there in elegance, waiting her acknowledgment, only a girl-child with bright eyes the same color as the sky. As if this girl-child had been only waiting for their eyes to meet, she took off as soon as she could, and Maast, drawn to her, pushed through the crowd. A market was a dangerous place for any, in her time though, she had learnt the younger one was, the more danger it came to. Slavers stole children right out of the market, their cries nothing more but voices in the wind.

And so with winding footfalls, dodging those who’s eyes followed her, Maast drifted farther and farther from Kalev and her people until it was just her and the girl-child near the sea. The salt touched air encircled them as the girl-child turned to her, bright smile reaching the sky in her eyes as she opened her mouth.

If there was a word for what she felt when the foreign tongue slipped from the mouth of the girl-child and her understanding failed for the only language that Maast knew was her own and the rough sounding one from those south of her, she knew not it, but it was there and heavy as if the rain. Turning from the girl who felt like her, from the one who might know where she came from and where the woman from before went, Maast turned to run back to her ship, back to where the fallen stone in her stomach could rest before she and her people had to leave, but was stopped.

Kalev had said she had come out from sleep with swords in her hands and blood upon her dressing; the village men had agreed. She knew it was correct, her hands remembered gripping, her mind remembered dirty and sticky and red, her chest pound and head ached and she did not know how she knew how to fight, but she knew in that second that she was born to fight.

Twisted feet, heart pounding, harsh words falling from her lips, “what do you want?” as she twisted the girl-child with the bright eyes hand away from her. She would not be a victim, she would not let this person hurt her as others had tried.

The girl-child laughed, a twinkle noise that if she were lesser would cause her to gasp and weaken, but no. More of that language that Maast could not understand before the hand was wrenched from her grip and the girl-child disappeared into the air. Anger and bile rose in her chest, left alone with the stone and her fears and the beating of an overanxious heart that would not be calmed. She knew not where she was, the sea – lonely as she ever was – would be no help and Maast gripped her hands. Was this a trick, she thought as she waited for someone to come from the shadows, to separate her from those she called hers? If she tried to move, she wondered, what would happen?

A wave hit the shore, another a second later, over and over again she let the sea speak before she figured no one would come for her; not her own people and not those who belonged to this market. One step, two, three, four. Quickening her pace, she ran past those who were not there when she first entered the market and those who had kept their eyes on the blonde girl-children running through a market with no one but the wind to carry them. She kept her legs moving despite the twinge of pain each footfall brought, kept running despite the burn in her chest, kept running until she had heard the only language she knew but the rough one from the south.

“Kalev!” Her voice carried, strong and angry, over the voices of those who spoke a language she could not – and would never because of the girl-child with the sky in her eyes – speak. “Läheme.”

II. The second time she meets Taani, she can give the other girl a name while she herself still goes by the name given to her by Kalev those years ago. Johannes, from south of her, has given her a choice to change it – they have fought bloody and dirty and red against each other for years now; he refuses her right to keep her people how they have and always will be and she refuses the name of the woman who left her in a forest by the sea that he tries to give her – but she is nothing if not a fighter.

None of that matters though.

Refusing religion, the one that keeps trying to creep upon her lands as if a shadow coming to take the things that her and her people hold dear, has landed her in a room with no exit. She has tried over and over again, cutting the disease from her skin as she and her people fight and struggle against the hold that the church tries to place around their necks, but she has failed.

The fight goes wrong at the last minute, she tried to run as per the request of those of her people who still breathed, for if she had fallen to their enemies, then what would become of them, but running did not matter. A dog rested at the heels of those who tried to control her, one who could find her no matter how hard she had hid, no matter what tricks she had tried – even killing the dog had done nothing – and soon, too soon, she finds herself dragged from the forests that belonged to her land to stand in front of who would try to become her master.

She would not be a slave.

Her people would not bow to anyone.

“Do you understand me?” Sky eyes smiled, bright like she had back then, the rough language on her lips “I learned the language that your men said you spoke, but you never came back.”

“I will not bow to you,” Maast hissed, her voice cold, hands itching for her weapons. She no longer cared for the Sky to speak to her as she did back then, “My people will not serve yours.”

“Nah kid, it’s not like that,” The way the Sky spoke, cheerful, friendly, as if she wanted nothing more for them to be like she had been with her people, but Maast could hear the steel underneath – the part of the Sky that spoke of the anger it would feel if she continued to fight. “You don’t understand but you will, so don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything you’ll need to know.”

She did not believe the other, no matter what she felt like – others had come to her land feeling similar, like they could tell her where the woman went, where the dreams of a different place and language came from – for Maast knew what the Sky was here for and she would fight the other with anything that could come her way.

“Anyway kid, I’m Else, I heard from Johannes that you’re name is Linda?”

III.

The third time she meets up with Taani, too long has passed between the Sky and Maast. For she has been branded Linda, after a woman she can barely remember, who represented the barest of fraction of her people and she has carried that name through her forced Christianization and the Sky has gone through three different names, settling on Kirstine after the god that killed the girl she swore to love and cherish forever.

Bitterness runs through her veins. Maast was killed and in her placed sat Linda, a girl who was not allowed to set foot on her own land, to not speak her own language, to not see her own people; Latin and German and Prussian and Polish and Lithuanian and several other languages she knew by heart, painfully by heart, but yet her own language faded from her mind. Her culture was thought of as lesser, her people were told to be ashamed of what they were and for several days, she wondered what would happen when they who held her chains got what they wished?

She blamed not those like her – representations, Poland had told her when she was handed to him and Lithuania, they were representations of those who were theirs and had rules they had to follow, unspoken but there – but she blamed those in charge. How could she not? It was they who wanted her culture to give way to theirs, it was her death they were hoping for.

But she was nothing but a fighter, even if she had to be a more silent one now. She would not give them what they wanted, she would give no one what they wanted.

But the Sky – Else, Dagmar, Ida, what names she has not taken for herself she has tried to give to those around her – she calls to Linda. Even now when she’s not supposed to be.

Her steps echoed off the stone. Somewhere in the castle, Birgitta and Liisa sit in a darken room, fumbling with their dresses as they steal kisses, holding Linda to the promise that she’d avoid the Danish woman who came to visit, who came to place claim back on Linda’s land. But she can’t hold the promise and so with her careful steps, she moves. A step or two here, an entire floor there.

“Linda,” the voice called and with a swish, she was greeted by the sky again.

Oh no, she thought as she felt her heart break “Taani,” she greeted as if there was nothing wrong.

“I told you I’d come back,” Fervent, loving, and hopeful. It was as if Taani was hoping that Linda would fall into her arms, her previous actions when she had first been taken from the Danish woman certainly would’ve provided Kirstine the hope that she would do that, but she can’t; not as Maast, not as Linda; not as the name Sweden’s nobles give her, or the name that Liisa calls her; not as the name Lithuania gave her, or the Polish one. She cannot give her love to Denmark anymore.

“I’m fine where I am.”

And her people is. For a time where her people is still under the control of another nation, not yet their own, it is a time of relative peace. Her people are more than comfortable to live under the Swedish rule placed upon them and Linda – perhaps she should let Sweden change her name, she holds nothing to the name Johannes gave her and she is far more than willing to let her name be something given to her by someone who can pretend to care for her in such a great way – is more than willing to stay under the rule of the Swedish nation.

“No,” Taani said firmly, not willing to take no as an answer. Shake of the head, blonde pieces going everywhere.

Linda can remember carding her hands through the straw colored hair, braiding intricate designs into it. Else had taught her so much and had loved her so brightly and so openly and so right.

A scream bubbled in her chest. Taani kept talking, her heart kept breaking. Had she changed so much? Linda knew that if she still fought to call herself Maast, still fought the names and the rule given to her by others like her, she would’ve ran with Taani the second the other nation had touched the Swedish lands to sign the treaty. A sob broke. Who had she become in her effort to go back home?

Heels clack as she runs, Sweden and Finland give her worried looks as she bypasses them – they will become looks of disappointment soon – and Maast wonders if she will always run from the Sky.

IV.

The fourth time she meets up with Taani, is a bit more joyus than the others. Ema – she is the mother of her people and she will not let anyone ever take them or her country from her again – has earned her freedom from Russia after a considerable short war for independence. In an effort to showcase the change in her, Ema has cut off her hair, spent her days introducing herself to nations that she had barely met before and ignoring the overwhelming disappointment that Else – the other woman went back to that name at the start of the 19th century – had yet to visit her. Sweden, Finland, Iceland, even Norway, has spent days at her place, congratulating her and celebrating.

Not the one nation she wanted though.

Hands focused on cleaning up the mess left by Poland and Lithuania. Latvia passed out in the upstairs room because Aija refuses to live in her own country alone.

“What if Miss Russia comes for us again? What if she stops caring that we’ve won our freedom and she-”

The worries of her sweet young sister-nation echo in her own mind at night, but Ema refused to think on it too hard. Anya wouldn’t come for them. She understood what being a nation was about; hadn’t she showed them that she knew that enough times?

Again, Ema would never blame the actions of her fellow nations completely on them, she knew far too well that they were all controlled by their governments – not that Ema had much interaction with hers at the moment; the Riigikogu had very little time to spare to boss her around and much of their interactions were her sitting in the room where they met, taking notes – but her feelings towards Miss Russia were far cooler than the ones she felt towards her former owners.

Kitchen cleaned, Ema turned to clean the living space when she stopped. The small house that Ema had set up as hers on abandoned farmland close to the center of her heart had once been a barn and it was only through unending nights and the help of some of her people that she had been able to turn it into a home. But it was small and it got cold in the winter and if it rained for too long, the roof would leak.

And it was hers.

And in that moment, what was hers was being investigated by what had once been hers.

“Else?” She asked, confusion and wonder in her voice. She truly hadn’t expected the Danish nations to come by. “What are-?”

“You need help fixing this place up, don’t ya?”

Hands twitched. Did she come here to insult Ema’s home? No, Else had never been cruel. Then again, she had been cruel multiple times; breaking Ema’s heart over and over again, promising things that no nation had the right to promise in the night as they laid under the stars, listening to Ema speak about her myths and her people.

“I should probably do that, I’m the most handy out of us all and I got a vacation from my bosses – I’ve worked really hard so I’ve earned it – and while I’m sure you can do it by yourself, cause come on, it’s you, I’m sure you’d like to be able to rest and-”

“Shut up,” Ema said, cutting off the rambling. Through it all she had gotten the message, the words that Else was struggling to say. A step forward, another one as she dried her hands on the apron tied around her waist. Else looked scared, something Ema couldn’t remember, or imagine, the Sky ever being.

“I can-”

“No,” Ema says over her, voice firm as Else’s had been that day, “I’ll need help patching the roof. Aija’s staying around to help with my dreams of turning this back into a farm, but the roof’s in rough shape.”

“I can help with that.”

Else reaches for her, Ema’s pulled back into the first and last time she had ever gotten held by the blonde with the Sky in her eyes and the Steel in her voice and the Hope in her heart, and then she lets herself relax. This is what she had fought for, the reemergence of her culture and people and the shame to be lifted off everything. Unlike the last time, and the first time, and the times inbetween those times, she has something that cannot be taken from her; her freedom.

The year is 1923 and she is just beginning and her and Else’s relationship can start over and maybe, just maybe, she can have what she had hoped for.

The fifth time she meets up with Taani, her skin itches from healing scars, her heart has been torn from her chest and Ema is nothing more than the shadow of the girl from her past. If she died tomorrow, no one would have any good to say about the girl who flinched from loud noises, who hid from the other nations in her own country. Her time under the Soviet rule has done what many had tried and failed to do, if only because Miss Russia had less a control over the nations her bosses had demanded in a treaty that was a death sentence to far too many of her people, and it stole her language from her.

Her people speak it, whisper it, hold it close to their chest because it is their language and they will not allow it to be stolen, but Ema failed to hold onto it, the shock of being handed to Miss Russia and no one fought for the countries who they had grown close to.

Of course governments played into it, but at the same time, Ema couldn’t forget the fact that her and her sister-nations had been just taken, given to another because of a secret agreement.

Heart pounded in her chest as Ema forced back the bile. Food was hard too keep down anymore and it was worse now that her boss had forced her to go to the summit that every nation, regardless of what other organizations you were apart of, was invited to. For the past, fuck, six years since her freedom, six years since she had seen another another nation that wasn’t Latvia or Lithuania, Ema had ignored it.

She wanted nothing to do with speaking a language that wasn’t hers – she had worked far too hard for the first year re-familiarizing herself with her language at the expense of pushing down the English she had fought to learn during the 20’s – and she feared seeing other nations and their pitying glances.

But a nation cannot ignore the demands of their bosses and while most of those who were in a position to boss her around often didn’t, the acknowledgment that she had spent too long being told what to do so instead they would take a moment to ask her to do things, this was something they were demanding.

You need to show them that we are willing to interact with them on more than a business level, one had said. Another had said, by you not showing your face, it looks like you’re snubbing them.

Her president looked at her and said, “I will not force you, they might, but I do ask that you give this meeting a chance, show them that we cannot be held down by our past.”

Ema knew that he was right, knew that they all were right. A plane, travel, packing, sickness, she dealt with it all as she made her way to the location of the summit and through it all, she kept her head empty.

But it was impossible to do that now. To ignore the sight of people who were surprised to see her there, who openly said as so, to have to make excuse after excuse as to why she had stayed away for so long. She wasn’t like Lithuania, who’s prominent scars across her back gave way to a reason to not show up – not that Viktorija had ever used said excuse – or like Latvia who was young and easily scared. Everyone thought she came away from her captivity free from problems, after all, she was the lucky one.

But she wasn’t.

To be lucky denoted some kind of blessing or charm on oneself that protected them, but though her scars were smaller than Lithuania’s and her trauma more well hide than Latvia, it did not mean that she didn’t have any.

Like right now, the scars across her shoulders itched but she couldn’t keep itching them without fearing that they’d open.

She’s alone in the bathroom, pushing down the urge to vomit again, pushing down the urge to sob and the desire to run from the summit. Or at least, she thought she was alone because the toilet flushes next to hers and Ema holds her breath, hoping that it’s a human aide or something, but it’s not because the next sound, after the rush of water and hands being washed, is Else’s voice, calling to her.

“Em,” The voice says outside her stall, a knock soft and gentle, “Come on out, you sound like shit.”

“That’s because I’m worthless so,” Ema muttered, her voice rough. Shaking her head, she continued, “Never mind, I’m not worthless, if I was everyone wouldn’t have fought over my lands.”

“Ema,” Else said, her tone borderline scolding.

Sitting on her knees in front of a toilet was not where Ema saw herself when she first showed herself to Else again. She wanted to look amazing, like a brand new person, like she had when her and Else had dated during the 20s. Instead, her hair looked ragged because Ema never had the time or energy to get it cut, her skin was greasy from lack of taking care of herself and her clothing was dirty from spending most of her time so far that day in front of the toilet.

“I’m not leaving the stall until you leave,” Ema explained, “I look like crap and I don’t want you to see me like that.”

Bad enough Else had to hear and see her beg and cry as Ema was taken from her home while the Danish woman fought with Miss Russia. Even if Else was promising things that she never had the right to - “I promise, she’ll never step foot on her lands as long as your people own it!” - Ema held onto the fact that her ex-something had tried to save her from having to go back with the Russian nation.

“I don’t care what you look like!” Else argued and still Ema shook her head. The Danish nation was too stubborn.

“I smell bad.”

“So do I.”

A small laugh, sharp and nearly on the verge of a sob. “I’m gross.”

“You thought I looked amazing covered in visceral that time I helped my queen give birth in 1249,” Else said, knocking on the stall door once more, her voice calm and sweet and none of the Steel that used to live there. “You thought I looked amazing that time I slipped in cow shit.”

“I said you looked amazing falling in the cow shit.”

A moment passed as they both laughed at the fading memory. Their time together seemed so short but they both knew that for nations, their first years together were longer than some got.

“Come on, Maast, let’s go up to my room, I’ll get you cleaned up and you can rest,” For a moment, it was like the Sky had come back, all flirting words and sweet tones and promises that no one can keep. “I’ll tell everyone that you got piss drunk yesterday and couldn’t make it.”

Her hand hesitated at the lock, she wanted so bad to not only go lay down but to let Else in. For so long, Else had been her Sky, had been that which she had leant her entire self upon, to have gained it and lost it so quickly as she had multiple times, to have pushed it away and hidden herself from it’s touch as she had done so many times, become tiring. When could she rest under the Sky with the sun touching her and the sea surrounding them and the hope and dreams of a future next to them?

The noise of the stall unlocking was loud, but Ema could not be afraid of it. She was a fighter, a born one, even if she had to change how it was she fought.

“You do look like crap,” Else said after a moment, “and smell a little weird, but that’s okay, I think you look gross and cute.”

+ I

“I want to marry you,” Else said, her voice a soft murmur against Ema’s skin as the Baltic nation curled into her arms, the Disney movie playing softly. The room seemed to freeze as the words left her mouth. The only sound was Margaretha whispering, “Oh my fucking god no” to herself.

Ema paused in her movement and for a second Else wondered if she said it too soon. It had been years since they had fallen back together. Tentative steps taken towards – and sometimes, from – each other. Love came hard sometimes when both people barely knew how to interact with each other, despite what they had been.

“What?” Ema asked after a second, leaning to look up. This close, Else could notice the flecks of blue in the green eyes that she had fallen in love with.

“I want to marry you,” She repeated, “As Else and Ema.”

Ema blinked. “Oh.”

That was new.

Oh.

Just ‘oh’?

Well, least it wasn’t a no.

“Yeah.”

Ema leaned back down, letting her head drop on Else’s shoulder, her attention back to the Disney movie playing. The room was still frozen.

“And?” Liisa said, breaking the silence and the frozen air. Ema rolled her eyes before tilting to look at her cousin.

“And what?”

A sigh, Else thought was far more long-suffering then it needed to be, before Liisa spoke, “That question has only two answers; yes or no.”

“It wasn’t really a question was it?” Ema pointed out before looking back to Else, giving her a small smile, “I’ll wait until you get the words together to ask properly.”

“Oh.”

Ema’s smile brightened before she nodded and turned back to the Disney movie and for a quick second, Else wanted nothing more than to pull Ema on to her lap and make out with her girlfriend, but Iceland hates watching people make out, especially people who helped raise her and take care of her and come on, why? And Else knows that little Latvia would rather no one made out with anyone while she sat in the room unless you like hearing the sound of a teenage girl-nation complaining loudly about it.

So it’s not time to make out.

That’s okay, they’ll have time for that later when everyone’s separated to go to their own rooms and Birgitta can get her girlfriend to stop swearing in her language.

“I’ve got so much to say to you tonight,” Else says just as the princess and the prince kiss and Ema laughed lightly and the world felt okay for just a second.

They could shed the past as easily as they could wear it with pride.

Later that night, while they’re rolling around on the bed, Else whisper her question, asks not just Ema to marry her, but asks Ema and her baggage and Maast and Linda to marry her and Ema gather tears to her eyes, nods her head. Marriage is a construct, she whispers back, but I’ll love it with you.

NOTES: Maast - closest thing I could find on the IBS that stands for ‘from the land’ that could sound like a name. If it wrong, please tell me. Else/Dagmar/Ida/etc - it has forever been my headcanon that nations, some of them at least, will go through human names as i go through candy; far too much, far too quickly. I’ve always headcanoned that aph den.mark is one of them. I also headcanon that aph e.stonia has gone through quite a few too before just settling on. Johannes - Livonia, brother that connects the Baltics together slightly in a way but not really he just tells himself that. This is my horrible little child I love. Funny enough in my state there is a city called Livonia. All of 5 - I love Him.a-papa but like where did he get the idea that Es.tonia has been a lucky country????? Talk about a history that would make someone cry. Honestly every book/pdf I find on that history just makes me wonder. But in the end, Es.tonians are a people that can square their shoulders and push through some bad shit. Still though, not a lucky nation and so there will never be any of that in my stories that talk about the history. Kalev - is a mortal oc I created and have continued to work on for the last 8 years. I, again, have headcanons relating to the finding of nations, but in this case, Ema was left where she was by ancient finno-ugric (until i have a better name for my trash child, i will call her by what she represented) who had found and placed each of the finno-ugric children somewhere where they’d be found easily, but sweetheart done messed up and the first people who found Ema was a group of humans who lived nearby and who took care of her. Four - please don’t hate me for that, my own sister kicked me slightly for doing that so i understand. ‘Marriage is a construct’ - according to statistics and some of the eston.ian youtub.ers i follow, marriage isn’t that important in es.tonia. like people will live with their partner and be a couple and just not get married right away and that’s normal, which i don’t see the problem with. my mom and dad lived with each other for about four years before getting married bc one of their friends asked them if they were ever getting married so like, marriage is a construct and you don’t need to be married to love each other and have a happy relationship.

#aph denmark #aph estonia #aph nyo denmark #aph nyo estonia #aph nyo!denest #aph denest #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #i. au;; nyotalia #nyotalia #iii. story;; complete #iii. story;; one shot #iii. story;; mine #iii. genre;; romance #iii. genre;; angst #iii. genre;; historical #i. au. historical hetalia #iii. story;; hetalia

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queenofdenest · 7 years ago

Photo

nyo!denest aesthetics

you’ve showed me feelings i’ve never felt before we’re making enemies, knocking on the devil’s door but how can you expect me not to eat when the forbidden fruit tastes so sweet

- Sinners by Lauren Aquilina

nyo!nation edits ♛ ♕

#denest #aph denmark #aph estonia #aph nyo denmark #aph nyo estonia #aph asethetics #nyo!edits #v. pairing;; denest #iv. edit;; nyotalia edits #iv. edit;; photoset #iv. edit;; mine #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph estonia #i love that song for these two #it's one of my go to songs when writing them

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queenofdenest · 7 years ago

Text

Finno-Ugric Trio Week Fic #6. (AKA the secretly badass trio)

Title: not our fault Author: MementoMoriPontifexMorts Rating: General Warnings: denest mention, sufin mention, one swear word at the end

Sept 22th: Fight Night Friday

On the same line as Tiny Terrors Tuesday, but let’s throw in some Finnish snipers and some good, old, crazy competitions. Whether they are bonding by history or by competition is yours to decide!

A/N: AHH I’m late because my mother’s birthday was on Friday and due to that I’m just getting back in town and to my computer. I should have Saturday’s fic up either later today or tomorrow, hopefully today, that is if my computer stops being weird and telling me i have a virus when I don’t. This is just based off the fact that I thought this would be a funny little story and preceded to make it funny. No need for translations but the bottom does have some fun little information in it.

Denmark started it, that’s how she’ll explain it tomorrow when Germany is yelling at the three of them for destruction of property and complete irresponsibility. But at the moment, she would focus on the competition… challenge?… fight? Shrugging, she wasn’t sure what to call what was going on at the moment, but she didn’t really care.

It had started with Denmark talking about his vikings, talking about the good ol’ days with Sweden and Norway and talking about how undefeated he was and how amazing his people were and as a former nomad country she could admit that his people were really amazing, but she also wished that he had the forethought to include the smallest of footnotes that his vikings – his and Sweden's and Norway’s and Iceland's – all lost at some point to Estonia’s beloved Oeselians. If he had, maybe Finland wouldn’t be throwing daggers at the wall of the establishment in order to see who was better.

“Come on!” She shouted as Finland stepped up to the line they had placed on the carpet. From Sweden and Finland’s shared hotel room to the business center in the hotel, the journey was not something that Hungary could fully remember, but she did remember collecting several other nations – it was why behind her she was hearing bets being taken by Prussia and Austria mumbling about behaviour and she turned sharply to fake whisper. “Shh, Germany can’t find out.” She slurred.

Drinking was not something she did often, but when she did, she often over-drank. She knew it was a problem, but it was something that her and her cute cousins all shared. Maybe it was in the blood?

“Elizaveta,” Austria said but she shook her head, turning back to the front.

Finland, even as wobbly as he was, managed to hit the bullseye, cheering loudly as he did so. He grabbed another dagger, tossing it again and hitting inside the circle, knocking his first dagger out of the wall. “I am the best!” He cheered as he turned, bowing slightly and nearly tipping over.

Sweden stepped forward to help him walk back to his spot and Finland muttered something in Finnish that had the larger nation blushing lightly. Hungary laughed loudly and then pushed Estonia forward, “Sword fighting!” She yelled, “To the death!”

“Not to the death.” Denmark yelled, “I’m not killing my sweetheart!”

“You lost against Eduard several times already, you’re not going to win now.” She said dangerously, her eyes glinting.

“Be careful, he stabs people randomly!” Prussia yelled and Estonia turned and frowned, muttering in his language.

She knew what it meant though, unlike Finland who never taught her the more saucy and fun words of his language, she had often heard Estonia threatening to stab Prussia again while living in Russia’s house. “Whoo!” She shouted, “War against Prussia!”

France, from his position as the Fencing judge, yawned and said, “Are we ready to continue, I wish to go back to sleep!”

Denmark grabbed the foil from Norway while she handed Estonia the foil that Finland had grabbed, “Kick his butt.”

Estonia wavered but nodded as he stepped forward, saluting Denmark with a small smile on his face. It was obvious that he was trying not to laugh and after a moment, Hungary got why he was struggling.

“What?” Denmark asked, confused, tilting his head as he lumbered forward. His eyes were bloodshot and she was sure that the vodka that they had been drinking finally hit his stomach. “What’re laughing at?”

“The swords reminds me of wands and Harry Potter and I drank to much.” Estonia somehow managed to say as he broke into laughter, doubling over. His words were slurred and barely understandable to anyone who wasn’t as close to the Estonian, but she understood and she broke out laughing with him, Finland joining in a second later. Denmark looked at the swords and then back at Estonia and joined in laughing, the room falling apart in seconds.

“Salute each other!” France yelled and Hungary realized that she should’ve gotten a judge that would not be so cranky.

Estonia waved off the cranky nation and then stood up straight, trying and still failing at keeping his laughter in. “Okay, saluting.”

They faced each other, holding their foils up and giving each other a small bow of the head before they turned and saluted Francis.

“En garde! Prêts? Allez!”

The Phrase started and Hungary watched intently – or as intently as a nation that was drunk off their rocker could – and cheered whenever Estonia managed to parry one of Denmark’s thrust. She watched as Estonia took the offensive, forcing the taller nation back. A grin grew on Estonia’s face as he lunged forward, making a hit on Denmark.

That was when Germany slammed the door open, being alerted of what was going on by the beleaguered staff of the hotel.

Hungary jolted forward, grabbing both Finland and Estonia and ran out the room, pushing past the German nation and throwing a “they started it!” over her shoulder as she did so. She’d explain better whenever she had the chance to but at the moment all that was on her mind was escaping the business center and hiding somewhere.

Half a mile from the hotel, which actually turned out to leave them around some park, they stopped, dropping behind a bush and lying down, breathing heavily. “Oh my god,” She laughed, “Oh my fuck, we almost died.”

“We could’ve taken him.” Finland said, “At least I could’ve.”

“What does that mean?” Estonia asked, sitting up and frowning. “I could’ve taken him as well.”

Finland snorted, “You could’ve not have.”

“You wanna bet?”

“Neither of you could’ve!” Hungary cut in, “But I can and I can take you both.”

She jumped on them, a smile on her face. She was the badassest of them three and she was going to prove it to them.

(Later when explaining this to Germany, she’d admit that wrestling in a closed park at quarter past three was irresponsible but also fun so she had no regrets. When her boss would yell at her, telling her that she was being completely reckless, she’d shake her head because no, having fun with family is never a bad thing – well, unless of course you get arrested, which they did, but still!)

A/N: Random Facts:

Oeselians were Estonian vikings and were pretty badass. Like ransacking and stealing and just badassery. They kicked major Nordic viking ass back in the day and really, go read about them. It’s also due to the Oeselians that they have found coin hoards in Estonia dating back as far as the 8th century. Pretty cool ,right?

Just assume Finland said something really saucy to Sweden, something about sex or something.

Also, Prussia’s line about Estonia stabbing him has to do with St. George’s Night Uprising, which ended with Estonia’s land being given to the Teutonic Knights and, in my own headcanon, ended with Estonia stabbing Prussia shortly after being handed off to him leading to their relationship being not the easiest. Honestly though I’m hoe for that ship so why do I shove all the angst in it??

Finnish sharpshooters amirite? No really, it’s a headcanon between my sister and I that Finland can throw knives, no real reason for it, but I thought I’d throw it in since I didn’t want to go bringing out the big guns. (bad joke ._. )

The scene in Harry Potter where Draco and Harry are dueling always comes to mind whenever I watch fencing videos and well, drunk Estonia is based on drunk me.

It’s said somewhere in Hima’s notes that France is not the type of person who likes being awoken suddenly, which is what Hungary did and also left him just standing off to the side while they did other things since they hadn’t needed him yet.

I don’t know how to fence, so if the information for fencing is wrong I’m sorry - and yes I know they’re not dressed appropriately, I just figured that being drunk allows for a certain level of stupidity.

Also, Finland went up against Norway in knife throwing, Estonia went up against Denmark in Fencing and Hungary was going to wrestle Sweden who probably would’ve let her win regardless of anything.

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queenofdenest · 7 years ago

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Title: ex-everything {working title} Author: mementomoripontifexmortis Rating: mature Pairings: nyo!denest, nyo!sufin Warnings: alternate universe - assassins, blonde, death, mention of past sexual abuse, violence, language Summary: love is messy. even worse when you’re a hired killer. A/N: i hate titles. anyway, lesbian assassin au??? yes, this is what i spend my time on. i’m actually really proud of this fic until about the end of the story bc then it’s rushed so i hope everyone likes it!! I also left the ending open-ended so that there might be a chance of a sequel at some point!

Names: Ema - Nyo!Estonia Else - Nyo!Denmark Birgitta - Nyo!Sweden Liisa - Nyo!Finland Viktorija - Nyo!Lithuania Aija - Nyo!Latvia

Black strappy heels clacked against the stone floor of the museum, it almost completely covered by the low murmur that came from a near full building. Dressed to the nines in a thigh length black lace mini-dress and lips as red as blood, a high ponytail and a diamond necklace, one wouldn’t think she could move through the crowds as easily as she did, but somehow she managed.

“Liisa,” She said softly, her voice little over a whisper as she weaved through the crowds. “Anyone?”

There was only one face she was actively searching for in the crowd, one face that had the ability to ruin her entire mission. Ema’s. Her ex everything; ex friend, ex partner, ex love. Everything that two people could be together they were until the day she found out that Ema had only gotten close to her for a job. She remembered that night as if it had happened just yesterday instead of the five years ago it had.

They had been working on getting a file from a firm when out of nowhere Ema had chained her to a pole inside a closet with a pair of handcuffs. She remembered the look on her ex-girlfriend’s face, the smirk and the cold closed off eyes. She remembered pleading with her, hoping to get through whatever was going on through Ema’s mind to remind her that there were people that cared about her, that loved her.

“That was your first mistake,” Ema had said mockingly, her eyes sparkling in amusement as she struggled against her chains. “Caring.”

After that she left, taking the files with her. Every now and then Else would see her while on a mission but she was never able to catch the other. Sometimes she would be benign, just showing up to show up and sometimes she was like a hurricane, ripping apart perfectly planned missions and causing trouble as she left.

“You’re safe,” Liisa said, pulling her out of her thoughts. “I’ve got the program up and running to tell if she shows up.”

“Good, now direct me to where I need to go.”

Liisa began to explain the exact mission – upstairs she was to find the information on the curator then come back down and slip the poison in the drink. Their client had accused the curator of abusing her while she stayed at the after school program that the museum offered when she was a child and wanted him dead. She wanted him to never be able to hurt another child – to appease the unwarranted guilt she felt for never reporting him. She would have to seduce him well enough that he stuck around long enough for her to poison the drink but not for too long since the poison acted pretty fast.

She went through the crowd, making sure that she pulled no attention as she made her way to the hall that would lead her where she needed to go. She itched to pull of her heels, hating the sound they made. Ema used to be the one who walked around looking like eye candy while she put the whole plan together. Liisa once did it as well but as soon as she and Birgitta had their child, she opted to the job behind the desk. It was a shame, Liisa was the best shot out of them all.

The curator’s office was supposed to be empty but it wasn’t. Hunched over the desk, back to the door, blonde tresses fell down a covered back, the long flowing black gown swathed around silky pale flesh that just barely peeked from the hip length slit, the person not even turning as the door closed loudly. She knew that body, knew that hair and those hips. She had grasped those shoulders while they kissed for a mission, had cleaned those hands that flew over the keyboard from blood.

“Make more noise why don’t you.” The voice – Ema! - said mockingly. “Thankfully this bastard’s already dead.”

She looked down, the sight of blood shocking her. Ema never liked the sight of blood, at least that was what she said back when she joined. “What are you doing here?” She asked, stepping around the dead curator.

“Meeting up with you.” She said, turning. Her sea green eyes shined, a small smile curved her lips and her hair swished behind her. Her own heels – solid white except for the bloodstains – clacked on the wood floors as she moved closer. “Hello Else, I’ve missed you. Sit down so we can talk.”

“Talk? With you? Why would I want to do that.” Her hands inched to hover over her thigh holster. “After all last time we were this close you chained me to a post and left me to get caught.”

“That was a mistake.” Ema said, shrugging as she moved to sit in the chair behind the desk. “I thought it would be better if I followed through with my first mission but I didn’t realize -”

“So what innocent person did you exploit?” Else cut through her speech. “I suspect that you had something to do with me being here?”

“I had my friend go to you guys to lure you.”

“So the whole thing about a sexually abusive curator…?”

Ema shook her head, “No, that part is true. My sisters and I used to come here as kids.” The words were ambiguous but the meaning clear. “Anyway, stop interrupting me. I need your help.”

“No.” She answered, watching as Ema’s face fell. “I refuse to help you after what you did to me.”

“Else, please.”

Else turned on her heel, ignoring the pleading voice of her ex-everything and opened the door, stomping down the steps and out to where Birgitta and Liisa sat in the car. They said nothing as the tall blonde woman started the car, leaving Else to stare out the window, her last sight being Ema standing in the top window.

No, she decided, she wasn’t going to be pulled into anything more with that girl.

Of course fate had a different plan for her. Everywhere she turned, Ema was there, pleading with her. On every mission, on every day off, during every outing, even in her dreams. She couldn’t imagine there was anything that Ema really needed her help with, they had found her at 17, killing a man (bloodlessly of course) easily. The girl was always self sufficient, had to be according to her one night, and the thought of her being helpless against anything was too far a stretch.

Or so she forced herself to think.

She really didn’t want to be thinking about Ema so often, the pain of the betrayal still stuck deep in her bones. But there seemed to be a desperation in the other woman, something she had never seen before (something she wanted to see more of if the darker part of her admitted the truth) and there was a soft side of her that wanted to fix that. Ema shouldn’t be desperate.

“What should I do?” She asked Liisa, the smaller woman making breakfast while they waited for Birgitta to get up. The taller woman slept in late on weekends.

“Well,” Liisa hummed, “What do you want to do?”

Her answer was vague as she spotted Peter coming down the steps, “I want her to pay for what happened but at the same time I want to know why.”

“Maybe you should meet her then.” Liisa said as she kissed Peter on the head and motioned for him to go sit down while she brought him his meal. Else nodded, her chair scrapping the floor as she moved quickly, leaving the kitchen and the small house right as Birgitta came down the steps.

“What’s with her?” She asked, grabbing Liisa by the waist. “She flew out of here fast.” Her words were mumbled and soft as her lips were pressed against Liisa’s neck.

Liisa giggled, “Ex-girlfriend issues.” She answered.

Birgitta frowned, “Anything we should be worried about?”

“So, why are we meeting?” Else asked as she sat down in the cafe, her short blonde hair pulled into a tight bun with pieces of hair sticking out.

Ema looked beautiful – as always – in a pair of dark colored jeans, a cornflower blue loose button up shirt and an over-sized knitted sweater, her dark wheat colored hair pulled into a similar bun, much more manicured than hers of course, and a pair of dark sunglasses over her simple wire pair. She leaned back in the chair looking a thousand times more confident then she ever did before and smiled. “I have a problem.”

“You have a bunch of them.” Else scoffed, “If you haven’t noticed you’re a bit of a bitch.”

“When I was a young child,” She said, continuing on as if she didn’t hear her, “my mother died and my siblings and I were sent to a foster home in Russia only it wasn’t really that. It was a school to teach girls how to kill. We met another girl there, her name was Anya and she helped me and my sisters run away.”

“I never knew you had sisters.” And even that one mention of them the four months ago when they had met up again felt fake.

Ema gave a smile, small and sincere. “I don’t talk about them because it’s painful.” She replied truthfully. “Anyway, we escaped when I was 14 and from there we separated. I fell into a group of really bad people as you know and that led me to you. What I wasn’t being truthful about was the fact that you were my job.”

“I figured.”

“You were always smart, even if you were a bit slow.” She sipped her drink, “I was only supposed to get in, destroy your group and then get out. I was told that doing so would free me from the debt I owed but then I took longer than I was supposed to and they found leverage.”

“Your sisters.”

“Bingo.” Ema sighed, “My eldest sister had taken my youngest sister with her to an old friend she hoped would help and her friend did. Took them in and got them help and soon Viktorija and her friend started dating and my youngest sister started doing really well in school.”

“Why didn’t you go with them?” Else asked.

There was a pause, slightly awkward as it continued for longer than a minute. “I was too damaged by then.” She said slowly, “I was strange, took to what they taught us – at least the computer aspect of it – very well. Viktorija was always too kind to be violent and Aija was too young and too scared of everything. I thought that if I went along with the training I’d be safer.”

“But you weren’t.”

“No, I became damaged in the end. Until I met you and Liisa and Birgitta. You three helped me find something that I thought I lost – an innocence I didn’t know I had.”

“Three assassins taught you innocence?” Else laughed, “Really?”

“You guys don’t just kill whoever in order to get money, you kill those who harmed others, who deserve death but has evaded it. I killed who I was ordered to.” She replied, shaking her head, “Anyway, they sent me photos of my sisters in their everyday life and threatened that if I didn’t give them what they wanted, they’d hurt them.”

“So you did.”

She nodded, “I hurt you so that you’d be out of commission for a bit and I made it so Liisa’s and Birgitta’s adoption form would go through quickly and -”

“You made it so that we’d not work for a while. Long enough for you to, what? Move your sisters?” Else leaned forward, her own coffee long since cold. “Okay, so what does this have to do with me?”

“I need your help to get rid of them. Every time I come back from a mission they’ve added a new thing for me to have to pay for.” She forced out a breathe, “I’ve stolen them a ton of money, killed who they wanted, slept with whoever they wanted and they still won’t let me out of my contract. I just want my freedom. I just want to be able to get free from this life.”

A moment of silence befell the table. Else understood that, she hated the life they led sometimes, wished that she got into another one, but it was her family line - more than that though, it was like Ema had said, a job that they managed to help people with.

“What do you want us to do?”

Ema wore an outfit that brought two different emotions battling inside her stomach: an overwhelming desire to rip it off her and fuck on the nearest surfaces and an overwhelming desire to dress her in something that she knows the other woman actually liked.

“Remember, get in and make sure there’s a way for us to get in.” Liisa said into the comm system.

Barely noticeable, Ema nodded and walked nearly seductively into the building, her hips swaying and others staring at her ass and legs in the short mini-skirt. Her hair was down, a small headband pushing the blonde strands away from her beautiful face. Ema looked perfect but if Else was being honest, she liked it when the other girl was less put together, more like herself.

On Birgitta’s screen, they tracked Ema’s footsteps while also watching the streets around them. They were helping her but they weren’t going to fully trust her.

“Master.”

The word made Else bristle and turn towards the screen, watching as Ema walked closer and bowed to the supposed man in charge. The man stood up and brushed his hand across her cheek, a small smile on his face before it turned into a snarl and he smacked her to the floor. Else stood up, anger coursing in her veins before Birgitta forced her to sit.

“Don’t.”

Ema groaned and rubbed her cheek. A small tremor broke out, she was terrified, what for none of them knew. “What did I do now?” She asked, moving to sit up.

“You have betrayed us.”

Else frowned and looked at the screens that showed the streets around them, finally noting the fact that it was silent. Shit. Over the comm link, they could hear Ema pleading, saying that she hadn’t betrayed them and never would, but they were more focused on the fact that they had been caught.

The sliding door to the van opened, a group of thugs held guns to them and one of them – the one with the fuck face – smiled gently and said, “Planning on making this difficult or easy?”

“Let’s do this easy.” She answered and shot a look to both Birgitta and Liisa. “Let’s not let anyone get injured.”

“Good choice, bitch.”

The men of the seedy underworld honestly did not respect women enough, she thought as she let them lead them into the building and up the several staircases. Birgitta was stiff as she walked, hand holding onto Liisa’s and Else felt horrible for pulling them into this. She should’ve dealt with it alone.

Thrown to the floor as the were pushed into the room that Ema had walked into, Else stared at the man in charge, glaring at him. Just outside of her peripheral view, she could spot Ema laying on the floor, bruised and bloodied. Giving a big, feral grin, she spoke before he could, taking control of the situation, “So, hi nice to meet you. Wish I could shake your hand.”

“Else Løkke.” The man sneer, “Your family has been a pain in my ass since your father was in control.”

“Well that’s my family for you.” She replied.

“Ilya.” Ema begged, getting to her knees. “Please, forgive me. Just pretend this never happened and I promise, I’ll stop trying to leave. I’ll stop fighting.”

Else saw red. “You bastard!” She yelled as she jumped up and lunged at the man who made Ema – her everything – beg so softly and so brokenly.

When asked later, Else would say that she had no real memory of going crazy but she would be lying. She remembered feeling so angry and just reaching across and tearing the man’s throat open, laying into him as if she was a wild animal and he was her prey. She also remembered ripping across the room as Ema stared on in surprise and fear and tearing through the mooks that stood around surprised by the 6 ft tall blonde woman that had just killed their leader with her bare hands.

She could remember heaving while covered in blood and standing over the bodies of her enemies while Birgitta dealt with any stragglers and Liisa went over to Ema to check her over. She remembered walking over to Ema and helping her up watching as the blonde winced at the sight of the blood that she was coated in.

“Thank you.” Ema had whispered, tears in her eyes.

But she wouldn’t say anything. Instead Else smiled and said, “Sorry, can’t remember. Guess in the heat of the moment, you really don’t remember what you do.”

Birgitta gave her a small look and then walk off.

“You lie.” Ema said, coming up behind her, frowning slightly. “I saw the look on your face when you tore out his throat. You were in control of yourself.”

“I don’t want that hanging over Birgitta though.” Else replied, “If she knew that I went all crazy while actually being in control, she would think I’m ending out like our father.”

Ema hummed to herself, “One day, you’re going to tell me that story.”

“I’ll tell you once you tell me what every scar on your body means.” She shot back, giving her ex-ex everything a small smile. She was just teasing, the other woman knew that and she could tell, but deep down, she did what to know where the scars that laced her lover’s body came from and what they stood for.

“They mean I survived and I have a chance at a future I want.” Ema said, giving her a kiss and then pulling away softly. “Now, I gotta go, classes start in an hour and Viktorija wants to have lunch.”

“Aww, I thought you could come back for a special lunch with me.” She whined, trying to pull her back.

Ema chuckled, “You mean come back here for sex.” She shook her head, “No, Viktorija wants to see me to decide if it’s okay to bring Aija around me. After I told her what I got myself in, she was properly worried but it’s been about a year since everything died down, so she’s willing to give me a chance.”

“Well I’m glad that your sis is not being so picky given her own history...”

“It’s because of her own history that she’s being picky. She doesn’t want Aija dragged back into that world.”

That brought a small thought to her head, “You haven’t told her I’m an assassin have you?” She asked, grinning as she watched the slightly smaller blonde start fidgeting.

“I told her you reclaim things.” She replied after a moment, “Since you guys don’t really kill anymore.”

“Oh, reclaim?”

“You reclaimed me so I don’t see how I’m that far from the mark.”

“I’mma claim that ass tonight.” She squeezed Ema in her arms and she let that joy of having the other in her arms spread to her insides, alighting her heart with happiness. “I’mma also -”

“Peter’s coming in!” They heard Liisa yell and they sprung apart. The young boy was so inquisitive that he often ended up asking inappropriate questions when he spotted them cuddling too close. Liisa had began to explain things to him, reminding him that it was normal but the boy had asked enough awkward questions for them to just not cuddle each other around him.

“I’ve got to go.” Ema said once again, leaning up to kiss her again. “I’ll be back in time for tonight, be nice to our new clients and make sure you get all the information down. Don’t doodle on the page again, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t.” She promised and listen as Ema greeted Peter and Liisa before leaving.

Liisa walked in, smile on her face as she directed Peter to go up to the playroom they had set up for the boy. “Everything okay?” She asked as she spotted the look on Else’s face.

“Yeah and thanks.” If Liisa hadn’t listened to her a year ago, she probably wouldn’t have the love of her life and a great job. Yeah, there was still looming problems, her violent tendencies would have to be nipped into bud but having Ema around helped and in the end that was all that mattered.

#hetalia #denest #aph denmark #aph estonia #aph sweden #aph finland #sufin #hetalia fanfiction #ii. character;; aph estonia #ii. character;; aph denmark #ii. character;; aph sweden #ii. character;; aph finland #nyo!nations #i. au;; nyotalia #v. pairing;; denest #v. pairing;; sufin #iii. story;; mine

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queenofdenest · 7 years ago

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Finno-Ugric Trio Week Fic #5. (AKA the secretly badass trio)

Title: hipsters Author: MementoMoriPontifexMorts Rating: General Warnings: denest mention, sufin mention

Sept 21th: Hipster Thursday

This one is @kruspolska for the suggestion. There are one three countries whose official language is Finno-Ugric after all. Exclusive. You probably never heard of it before. Time to make this trio the Hipster Trio.

A/N: I, at some point, will release the sort of prequel to this fic but like right now it’s gotten so long that I had to just release this part. Also, the idea that these three get together to drink and have fun at every meeting is probably my favourite headcanon in the world. No translations, but a little information at the bottom. And yes, I do dress them in colors that belong to their flags, I have no shame in that.

She showed up to the world meeting in white cut-off shorts and a large green plaid shirt over a red tank top, a pair of glasses she didn’t need sat on her nose and her hair was done in the messiest braid of them all. The flower in her hair barely showed with how messy her hair looked and it looked as if she had slept in that outfit she wore. A Starbucks coffee cup held in one hand, she slid in her spot and looked towards the door, as if she was waiting for something, before she looked back towards England, who had been speaking before she interrupted.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” She muttered, her cheeks flaring up. “Continue, sorry.”

England cleared her throat but before she could speak, the door opened yet again.

Estonia walked in, holding the door open, wearing an outfit almost exactly similar to Hungary’s; white cut off shorts, large blue plaid shirt over a black tank top; the biggest difference was the fact that she was carrying her work binder under one arm and had her over-sized messenger bag hooked over one shoulder. Her own blonde hair was placed in a high messy bun and she was shouting in her own language at someone still in the hall. A second later, Finland popped up next to Estonia, her outfit, again, scarily similar.

(If one was to ask America, which none of them did, she would say they looked like hipsters, but since no one asked her that day and ignored all her words because they were being mean, none of them got that.)

Finland’s blue plaid over-shirt was messed up, hanging off her shoulder, while her tank top slid up her stomach when she yawned, reaching for the cups of coffee in the Estonian’s hand, her own blonde hair just a mess down her back. She muttered something in her own language before moving down to slide next to Hungary, forcing the brunette nation into moving over. Estonia sighed and moved to sit next to both of them.

“Sorry.” Finland said sweetly as Estonia handed her a binder from her messenger bag.

England glared at them three before launching back into her speech, the words going over most of their heads. Giggling was heard from Finland, Sweden giving her lover a look every time the noise grew louder than a whisper, people turning to look at the three of them all throughout the meeting. Hungary or Estonia would elbow the girl which would shut her up for a little. Of course, Finland wasn’t the only one making noises that were slightly interrupting; Estonia would make disagreeing noises with almost everything England said while Hungary snorted several times.

Thankfully, England hurried through her speech and they were allowed to have recess. If it hadn’t happened when it did, America was sure that the British nation would’ve thrown something at the three of them. As it was, she did storm out muttering about ‘those bloody wankers’. America slowly packed up, watching as Sweden approached Finland, kissing her girlfriend on the cheek while Denmark approached Estonia, wrapping her arms around the smaller nation and leaning her head on the her shoulders.

Hipsters in love, she decided. Right as the North American nation was going to leave though, she spotted Russia approaching the table of Baltic and Nordic nations. She slowed, wondering if she would have to get in between any problems that arose from it.

Russia said something and Estonia shook her head. “You can’t sit with us.”

America inched closer so she could hear what Russia was saying and caught the tail end of the sentence, “...people speak Mari.”

“Yeah,” Finland said, “But that’s not your official language and our lunches are for nations whose official language is Finno-Ugric, not some of my people speak it.”

“What about the Mordvinic?”

Hungary groaned, “Yeah, but your main language is part of the Balto-Slavic language and we’re Finno-Ugric.” She replied, “So...”

“You can’t join our squad.”

“Um.” Latvia frowned, looking a little confused, “What about us?”

“Different squads, different rules?” Estonia shrugged, patting the little nation on the head, “You’re like family.”

“I want to go to lunch with you three.”

The three of them responded by rolling their eyes. “Maybe next time, but right now, it’s time for the Finno-Ugric meeting to commence.”

Holy crap, America thought to herself, how drunk were they? She could guess they were out all last night, she had heard them stumbling in at four given that her room was on the same floor as Finland and Sweden’s, but how drunk could they have gotten to straight up tell Russia they couldn’t join them. Also, what even was their little group about anyway? Shrugging herself, she realized she’d have to do some research. She hated being left outside the loop.

Walking on, she ignored their conversation. Hipsters had invaded the nations, and thankfully, it hadn’t started with her. Though, she’d admit, those shorts were adorable.

A/N: They’re not being mean, they let Russia join them sometimes - very very rarely though - but Russia just doesn’t understand that she doesn’t meet the requirements. The Mordvinic and Mari are language groups that belong to the Finno-Ugric language group and spoken in Russia but are not widely spoken throughout all Russia and are not official languages and as such does not count to our three hipsters nations. Honestly, this was/is much longer but I wanted to release this part at least because the other part is still in work because that started being worked on later. My sister mentioned that she wanted to know what they had been doing the night before the meeting and why they were late, and while so I started an individual story for that and it’s spun out of control. That’ll be released sometime soon okay.

Also this exsist in a world where all the nations are girls and I don’t know why so let’s all just accept it.

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queenofdenest · 7 years ago

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title: something wicca this way comes series: charmed pairings: a lot of future pairings, prucan warnings: fusion fic, au, nyotalia with certain characters, alternate universe-witches, mangling of the actual charmed canon information, etc author: mementomoripontifexmortis summary: elizaveta and her two younger cousins gain a magical destiny on the anniversary of their grandfather’s death. a/n: i took this idea a while ago and it took forever to bloom. i hope it’s as good for everyone else as i think it is. i also took the information about charmed and twisted it to fit the story for story telling purposes so if you’re a watcher of that show ans you’re like, ‘wait a minute bubbles, this is different from the show; that’s because i did it on purpose. i know the show’s canon by heart - it’s my favourite show, so if anything’s different and doesn’t make sense with the canon we got with the show, it’s because i changed it up for this story.

The clock chimed throughout the silent old Victorian house, it’s occupants asleep as the time neared the middle of the witching hour. A soft bright light emitted from the chandelier, filling the house until it quickly died off, leaving no trace. Quietly a whisper traveled through the house, making it’s way to the attic, depositing a large old book on a pedestal in the center. “Blessed be,” The light said as it faded.

Down in the largest bedroom, Elizaveta, the eldest cousin woke with a start. She looked around the darkened room, dropping her head back on her pillow, covering her entire body with her duvet. Turning in the bed, she moved to the colder side of the bed, heading back to sleep. She shivered slightly as she curled into herself, head poking out. Her dark brown hair swept out across the pillow as she heard the deep voice of her grandfather, lulling her back into her dreams.

In the middle bedroom, Ema, the middle cousin, also woke with a start, jolting upwards to sit up. She frowned as she looked for the source of the reason why she had woken up but she found none. Slipping out of bed, she tiptoed over to the jack and jill bathroom, getting herself something to drink before heading back to bed. Laying back down, she covered herself up and dug under the blankets, her golden hair the only part of her to be seen; the sound of her grandfather luring her back into the dream world.

The last bedroom laid dark as the youngest cousin, Liisa, slept on. She woke only briefly as she heard the voice of her grandfather tempting her back to sleep; her blonde hair hidden from the world by her dark green duvet and the pillow. She turned slightly, facing the window in her room, eyes opening just slightly to see the figure of her grandfather, inching closer with a gentle look on his face. She gave the ghostly figure a smile before drifting off to sleep.

______________

“The lights shorted out again.” Elizaveta said, walking into the kitchen. She made a beeline towards the pot of coffee brewing, frowning as she did so. “That’s the third time this week.”

“Again?” Liisa groaned, dropping her head on the table. Given that she was the one who had to wait around all day for the electrician to show up, since she had no job, meant that her annoyance towards the crappy electricity in house was getting on her nerves. “The electrician was just in here last week!”

“I know, I know.” Elizaveta said, shaking her own head as she moved to sit down. She grabbed the newspaper from in front of Liisa and sighed. “I don’t know what to do, every time they’re out here, they tell us nothing’s wrong, but the fact that my clock reset itself last night – so did most of the alarm clocks – mean that something’s happen.”

“So I checked the breaker downstairs,” Ema said, coming up. She stopped short as she saw Elizaveta, “Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were up. Anyway so I went downstairs, the breaker seems fine – not overloaded or anything. I don’t fully understand why we’re shorting out.”

“So we’re going to have to hire another electrician?” Liisa asked, handing her cousin the plate she was watching for her.

Ema nodded, eating quickly. “I’ll call one for today on my way to work since Elizaveta has an interview?” She turned towards her cousin, frowning, “Right?”

Elizaveta nodded, since she had lost her job due to her cheating ex, she had been sending out her resume for weeks, finally getting a response from some auction house. It wasn’t her dream job, but it was one that if she got would help pay for the bills that the old Victorian house had. She knew that any smart person would have sold the money pit of a house, but it was the one that she and her cousins were raised in; the one that held the last few memories she had of her parents and she knew that she would never be able to sell it. None of them would, even though they had agreed to if the place got to much to handle.

“I have no clue when I’ll be back, since it’s across the town, but I shouldn’t be too late.” She said, downing the rest of her drink and placing it in the sink. She moved forward, kissing Ema and Liisa on the cheek before heading upstairs. She had to get ready, she wanted to look nice which meant spending more time on getting ready then she was used to. None of them were too fond of getting all dressed up, Ema being the only one who once held a job that required her to wear a formal outfit more than once. Of course, her cousin had quit that job not long after starting it, instead turning to her dream job of being a chef. She was good enough, there was no doubt about that, but the loss of that money they got from her previous job had caused a bit of a riff between the cousins.

Getting ready, she checked herself out in the mirror before her watched beeped, forcing herself to rush down to the driveway to her mini cooper.

“Liisa, I called the electrician, he should be getting here by 12!” Ema yelled as she left, the house going quiet as soon as the door closed. It had been months since she had come back from college so she was quite used to the quiet that was the empty house, especially since she had yet to get a job. Her grandfather was right about one thing, she really should’ve chose a better major than Liberal Arts.

Shaking her head, Liisa got up and grabbed her tool box, heading towards the attic. They day they moved back in her after their grandfather’s first heart attack, they had realized that they weren’t able to get the attic door open. It was the one room in the Victorian manor that could not be opened and the one room that she wanted open more than anything.

When she had first moved into the house with their Grandfather, she had been nearing six years old and she could remember that after her grandfather had introduced her to her cousins – the ones she never really knew she had – he had told her that under no circumstances were she allowed to go into the attic or the basements. She had figured that the basement was haunted – she had always heard weird noises down there and blamed it on the Woogey monster, but she had yet to figure out what secrets the attic held. She had barely ever heard any sound coming from it.

Bending so she could sit on the small landing, she opened her toolbox, pulling out the hammer and screwdriver first. She had used softer methods previously, but since they had come to no good, she was prepared for a big more tougher ones. Placing the screwdriver in the keyhole and angling the hammer, she struck down and the door shook with force. Lifting a hand, Liisa tested the doorknob, ready for it not to open like all her previous attempts.

This time though, something happened. She must have hit the door in the right angle because with barely a twist, the door swung open, creaking from disuse. Liisa backed away from the door, eyes wide as she let go of the knob, the door swinging fully open. For a second she hesitated. Yes, she had been hoping for the door to open, but her expectations were low.

Stepping inside, slowly, Liisa looked around. The dark wood paneling of the walls gave way to the dark timber beams that held the roof up. Her eyes followed the dark trail, awe evident on her face. She hadn’t expected the attic to be so rustic looking. Walking further in, she noted how much of the stuff that resided in boxes was stuff that belonged to her and her cousins when they were younger; how much of the mess that lined the walls was things from her family’s past.

Further back, next to the window that faced the front yard, there was a pedestal. It’s was bleached light wood, something that was a deep contrast to all the darkness of the room. On it sat a book, thicker than any school book she had owned and bound in a tight rough looking leather. From the sight of the pages, it was old; yellowed from age and the edges like an old fashion book you’d see on display at a library; slightly ripped and used.

Instinctively, she reached for it, a hand gliding across the gilded words that were etched on front. “’The Book of Shadows’.” She read softly, the words just ghosting over her lips.

She flipped the top open, hands caressing each old page before she flipped it over and over again, stopping as she got to one...what was these? Poems? They all did rhyme. Shrugging, Liisa looked over the words before she read it aloud, “Spell for Invoking the Power of Three -

Hear now the words of the witches The secrets we hid in the night. The oldest of gods are invoked here The great work of magic is sought. In this night and in this hour We call upon the ancient power. Bring your powers to us sisters three We want the power. Give us the power.”

For a second she waited before she shook her head. “Come on, Liisa, you’re a big girl now. Magic doesn’t exist and even if it did, this book obviously belongs to a group of sisters, not cousins.” She closed the book with a thud right as there was a knock on the door. Groaning, she raced past her stuff, promising to look more into the attic later, not noticing the light sparkling in the room.

Three flights of stairs later and she opened the door to a bright blue eyed, golden haired man with a smile wider than anything she’d ever seen before. She smiled back, flirting just a little bit, before showing him the way to the basement. “Sorry, I’m scared of basements.” She half lied before retreating back to the living room. Looking around, she realized that she’d have nothing to do if she just waited around watching morning TV shows.

Rushing upstairs and grabbing a few of the books that laid in a trunk not far behind the Book of Shadows, Liisa piled them on top of said book and ran back downstairs, hiding what she wasn’t reading with the quilt that her grandfather had always had on the couch. She listened as the handyman worked in the basement before she opened the first book near her.

It was a thin thing, the title well worn and barely readable. Liisa spent over five minutes trying to decipher it, finally settling on, Halliwell Historie to Magic by Prudence Halliwell. She had never heard of the author before, but she thanked the person for writing down whatever it was she did. Wordlessly, she opened the dry, cracking pages and began reading the words.

In the beginning, when magick was formed, the goddess Circe – also a fae – blessed a few humans with the ability to harness the magick in the air. The first human magick had to use a conduit, such as a wand or staff, to call on their powers, but as they began breeding with humans and others, such habits quickly died out.

The first magick user, who had once supposedly had an affair with Circe, continued using the practice and when fear of being weak came to him, he began collecting the old conduits that his fellow magick users had tossed aside, gaining power from them. That was not enough for him though and this dark magick user became the Source, a demonic being who killed those who held power and passed out power to the elemental demons that roamed in the Underworld. Calling them to his side, he began to siphon magick from his new minions, keeping them weaker than himself.

Circe, who had stayed with the other gods, descended down upon the earth and created a race of special magick users, The Elders. Tasked to defend the earth with their specially chosen whitelighters – humans who had passed that had shown great love and sacrifice during their lives, especially within the last few days of it – and a prophecy that would not be known until the Halliwell line was born.

Melinda Warren was burned at the stake, betrayed by her lover who had turned out to be a warlock, and she swore, right before she burned, that generations of her family would come until a trio of sisters would be born and with them, the fight against evil would grow until they had defeat the Source. Many generations of Warren and Halliwells have been born, many of them hoping to be the one to gain notoriety of being the Charmed Ones originator, but so far, none has arrived.

“Hey?”

Liisa looked up from her reading, shoving the book under her legs and giving the handyman a smile. “Hey, sorry, need something?” She asked.

The man smiled, “Yeah, um, do you guys have a flashlight. Mine died.” He replied, lifting his flashlight up with a small shrug.

Liisa stared at him for a second before nodding, jumping up from the couch and, after making sure everything was covered, brought him back to the kitchen and into the mudroom where their laundry machine sat, pulling down a flashlight. “It should work, if not, there’s more of them in here.” She said.

“Thanks.” The man – Nikolaj, if his name tag was to be trusted – said and moved to walk off. Her blue eyes watched as he traveled back downstairs, whistling a song to himself as he did so. With him gone from the darkness that was the entrance to the basement, Liisa shivered and ran back to the safety of the living room. At least that placed was used often enough that it felt homey and comfortable.

Sliding back on the couch, Liisa went back to her book, her eyes scanning it for more information on the supposed ‘Charmed Ones’. Out of everything from the passages she had read, that was the most interesting to her. The book had nothing, not really besides small mentions of the prophecy that had proclaimed the Charmed Ones comings and so she changed books.

From magic and it’s uses to magic lines through the ages, she couldn’t find anything. The last book, Warren Tree was her last hope and Liisa opened the book and, instead of finding paragraphs of words, she found pages upon pages of a family tree. Her hands ghosted over each name, finding multiples of the same one – the Warren line apparently liked naming their kids after dead people. She flipped to the last few pages, watching as the names went from Warren and Halliwell to Kirkland and Hedarvary.

Ezra Wyatt (May 1, 1931) – (September 4, 2005) was underneath Piper Halliwell and her husband, Leo Wyatt. She spotted Eliza’s father, Daniel with his wife, Erzrabet Hedavary. Ema’s mother Kaisa and her husband, Jaani von Bock. Finally she came to her parents names.

Her heart stopped as she saw, Aino Wyatt (February 12, 1965) – (April 13, 1988) right next to her father’s name, Nikolai Väinämöinen (August 3, 1963) – (April 13, 1988). The gold tinted ink that had been used to etch the names on the paper glinted in the light as she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She closed the book gently, her hands caressing the cover before she moved it off to the side.

It was time for a late lunch.

Ema looked around her the restaurant, her eyes scanning to make sure everything was going right. She hated managing things, she wanted to be in the kitchen cooking, but when her boss left, he left her in charge and so walking around making sure everything was going fine every few minutes was something she had to do. Sighing as everything seemed to be going good, she made her way back to the kitchen to inspect it.

She loved the chaos of the kitchen, her Gramps had taught her to, and so it was more of a home for her. He taught her old dishes that had belonged to his father who had traveled the world as a soldier, picking up recipes and keeping them tucked away in his brain and from there, she learnt to cook almost anything. Culinary school had helped that too.

But then Gramps had a heart attack, she moved back to the manor and took a crappy job as a secretary, hating every second of it. Eliza had loved the money that that job had brought in; it had been enough to pay some of Gramps medical bills and the other bills that owning such an old and historic house brought. Ema could admit that she missed the money that it brought as well, at least with that job they weren’t struggling as much as they were now. But, she was positive that once Eliza got a job, they’d be doing better.

Sighing, she quickly talked with the temporary head chef and then moved on. That was the whole reason her boss had wandered off – to go find a brand new head chef. From another country.

She wasn’t sure why he didn’t think any one from around could fill the position given that he had been getting resumes from near 5 star Michelin chefs, but it was something that she apparently couldn’t understand, no matter how hard she tried. She shook her head at the craziness of her boss, the man was a loon, but also a visionary and it was his crazy and out there ways that had lead the restaurant to be named one of the best on the Western seaboard.

A knock on her door made her to look up in surprise, “Come in!” She called. She normally did not get any visitors when she was in the back room.

The door opened, showing Liisa looking shy. “Hey, I hope you’re not too busy I have something very important to talk to you about.” She said, holding her bag close to her side.

“I thought you were going to watch the repairman?” Ema sighed. It wouldn’t be the first time that Liisa had dodged out on something she had promised to do. “We can’t afford-”

“I’m not that flaky.” Liisa argued, “Nikolaj, the repair guy, is at the house fixing it up. Everything fine. He’s a reliable looking sort.”

Ema stared at her cousin in shock. “You left a stranger in our house?”

“No.. well yeah, but Eliza was on her way home when I was leaving and she said it be okay. If he steals anything or does anything creepy, she’ll be able to catch him.” Liisa explained, shaking her head. To her Ema was always a stickler for rules and order, constantly getting between her and Eliza on the few times that they fought, but Ema couldn’t help that. Her parents – as short a time as she had with them – had always taught her to be responsible and keep your head down, which meant not arguing in someone else’s house, even if that someone was your grandfather and guardian.

“Liisa.” She started before stopping herself with a shake of the head. “Okay, well let me order us some food and we can sit at the bar and you can talk to me about whatever it was you wanted to talk to me about.”

Leaving the room, Ema gave a small order to the one of the chefs, telling him that the main floor had priority and that they’d be at the bar when it was done. She waited for him to agree before she went back to the room and motioned for Liisa to follow her.

“So, Liisa, what is so important.” She asked as she moved to sit in the seat closest to the wall.

Liisa looked ready to burst with whatever she had to say. “I think Gramps was a witch and so are we.”

“Oh.” Ema gave a look, “I thought boy witches were warlocks or wizards?”

Liisa sighed, “Don’t deflect the conversation.” She scolded, shaking her head as Jake brought their drinks. “I’m being honest here. I got into the attic – don’t worry I locked it so the hot repairman stays out – and there was all these books about magic. There’s even a book on a pedestal called, get this, The Book of Shadows.”

“Great, you’re destroying the memories I have of the guy who raised us.” She rolled her eyes a little, taking a deep sip of her coffee. “No, but seriously, Liisa calm your imagination. Gramps wasn’t a witch.”

“How do you know?”

“Because, he didn’t do witchy things.”

“But how do you know?” Liisa argued, this time more persistent. She pulled her bag up and pulled out the book by Prudence – her great great something or other. “Look, this was in a chest with other magic books. It details magic.”

Ema rolled her eyes, “Okay, lets say Gramps did magic. Only one problem, magic is not real.”

“You sound like Eliza.”

“Oh low blow.” Ema groaned, dropping her head on the wall behind her. Their eldest cousin had never truly believed in magic unlike the both of them.

“You just repeated what she always told us when we were younger.” Liisa frowned, “Magic does exist, I know you believe in it, I just don’t get why you think we can’t have magic too.”

“Liisa, even if Gramps did dawdle with magic it doesn’t make us magical.” She argued, finally seeing the thing her cousin wanted.

“That’s not true, our entire bloodline is magical.”

“My mom and dad were not magical.” Ema said firmly. “I would’ve known.”

“But would you have?” Liisa asked softly. “I mean, you were basically a toddler when-”

“Liisa!”

Her cousin knew better than to make mention of her parents deaths, the car accident that destroyed her family always brought a fresh wave of anger and sadness to her, leaving her ill tempered for hours afterwards. Unlike Liisa who had arrived angry and then proceeded to stay angry until her second year of college, Ema had never really allowed herself to mourn her parents.

“I’m sorry,” Her cousin said, licking her lips. “I just meant-Oh my god!”

Ema looked up and frowned, “What?”

“The room!” Liisa yelled and Ema turned her attention from her own sadness to the dining room that was filled with people not moving. Jake was paused in place balancing a tray filled with dirty dishes while Martha was about to spill a drink onto a customer. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “You froze the room?”

“Me?” Ema finally managed to squeak out. “Why are you blaming me?”

“Because you did your hand thingy!” Her cousin attempted to flick her hands like Ema normally did, the attempt failing miserably. “Plus, I’ve already tried to freeze things and move things – those are two of the main powers our family has by the way – but I’ve not been able to.”

“Okay, so lets say I did do this, how do I undo it?” She asked seriously. “Because if the kitchen staff comes out and sees this, we’re dead.”

“Oh,” Liisa started flipping through her book, hoping for something. “Re-flick your hands?” She suggested.

Ema raised her hands but before she could flick them again, the whole room unpaused, people continuing on as if nothing had happened. She turned from the dining room to stare at Liisa, “What did you do?” She asked.

When Elizaveta returned home, she was greeted by the sight of a large blonde man standing on a ladder and playing with the chandelier. Frowning, she walked around it, looking up. “Who are you?” She asked.

“Oh, hi, Nikolaj. I’m the handyman.” He answered, placing his tools on the top step and climbing down to shake her hands.

She nodded, “What are you doing with the chandelier?”

“Oh, your main line runs above it, I noticed it when I was fixing your box.” He replied, smiling brightly.

Elizaveta hummed, “Well thanks.” She said before adding, “So you fixed the constant power issues?” She wasn’t very hopeful since no one had managed to fix it since it first started happening.

“Yeah, it was a pretty simple fix, just had to readjust the- y’know what, it’s boring stuff, don’t worry though I did fix it.”

“That’s good.” Elizaveta murmured, looking for all the world uncomfortable. “Well, I’m going to go-are you fixing something?”

“Yeah, just taping up some parts where it looks like something chewed through it; should stop it from shorting out again.” The repairman answered, motioning towards the old chandelier.

“OK, well, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” Elizaveta moved quickly through the house, looking back only once to see Nikolaj climbing the ladder. She muttered to herself about weird handymen who fixed things that weren’t on the list of things they needed to fix as she went to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup.

Finally peace and quiet after her entire day.

While her interview had gone pretty good, it couldn’t help but be marred by the fact that she had screwed up and insulted her interviewer and seemingly bugged the best worker by insinuating that working in an auction house was the lowest of lows and only those who sought to take from old grieving people worked there. She had seriously put her foot in her mouth. Which was strange. She was normally the best at talking, often charming people quicker than most, but ever since Gramps died, she seemed to have a bit of trouble with that.

Ten minutes of contemplating her life passed by when she was forcible pulled out of those sweet thoughts by the door slamming open and Liisa talking in Finnish. That was what she loved about her cousins, their individual languages that they had picked up from their parents. Though their entire family on their Gramps side was born and raised in the United States, their parents had married people from other countries, moving with their spouses and starting a life there. Her own mother had taught her father to speak Hungarian, passing what little she could unto her before dying. Elizaveta had continued to learn afterwards, determined to have some form of connection to her deceased loved ones.

“Liza!” Liisa yelled as she walked through the house. “Where are you?”

“Kitchen,” She heard Nikolaj tell them, a smile evident in his voice.

Ema stopped moving, the sound of her work heels pausing, “Who are you?” She asked, and if Eliza didn’t know her cousin as well as she did, she wouldn’t be able to hear the sound of awe in her cousin’s voice.

Ema fell in love too often and too quickly, it was a worry for Elizaveta. Thankfully, Liisa had already started to drag her from talking to the hunk that was fixing the electric and into the kitchen. “Oh thank goodness you’re here, we have a problem.” Liisa said the moment she saw her.

“What did you two do?” Though it wasn’t often, Liisa had sometimes managed to drag Ema into participating in her stupid, not thought out plans and Elizaveta was hoping that today was not one of those days.

“Oh no, not me.” Ema argued, “This time, it’s all Liisa.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that.” Liisa frowned, “I mean, it’s not my fault we’re… y’know, witches!”

“What?” Elizaveta scoffed, “We’re not witches.”

“No, no, we’re witches.” Ema said before turning back to Liisa and arguing again, “And I mean, you even admitted you said a spell to bring magic to you – to us!”

“No, I said I did a spell to bring magic to sisters, we’re cousins.”

“Minute differences!”

Elizaveta sighed angrily, “Hey, stop it!” She clapped her hands together as if she was a kindergarten teacher while raising her voice slightly. “Stop fighting and explain.”

“I froze my restaurant today.” Ema started, a constipated look on her face. “I froze the restaurant today because Liisa read a spell out loud for some reason.”

“Okay, that’s true.” Liisa shrugged, “But, it was not the spell that gave you powers!”

“Great game, guys.” Elizaveta said, interrupting whatever Ema was going to say. “But I don’t find it funny; remember you two are the ones that believed heavily into magic, not me.”

Ema frowned and then smushed her lips together into a false smile, “Okay, fine, follow me.” She moved without waiting for them to say anything and towards where Nikolaj was finishing up working on the chandelier. She seemed to be waiting for something and when he was almost to the bottom step, she walked right next to him, giving him a smile before she pushed the ladder ever so slightly, destabilizing the man on it before she flicked her hands, stopping the man from falling.

Elizaveta watched on with increasing levels of horror. The fact that Ema would hurt someone just to prove a point; especially when it was a person that she seemed to like a least a bit, was soon overshadowed by the fact that Nikolaj had froze in midair, hands flailing. “What the hell?”

“Exactly. Liisa has turned us into freaks.” Ema said as she moved to the parlor, grabbing all the pillows off the chairs and couch, placing it right under the area the man was going to hit. After a second, she moved and grabbed the blankets as well. It wasn’t that high of a fall given that Nikolaj had been almost off the ladder, but she still worried.

Nikolaj unfroze after a second, falling directly into the pillows, a questioning look on his face. Before he could say anything though, Elizaveta dragged her cousins up the stairs, ready to go directly to her room so they could talk. Once they got up there though, Liisa pushed ahead and moved up the stairs towards the attic.

“We can’t get the attic open, remember.” She said as she followed the two of them upstairs.

Liisa shook her head, “No, we couldn’t, now we can.”

Elizaveta said nothing more, just watched as her cousin opened the attic door to allow them all admittance. She had always wanted to go in there, wanted to know what was in there but when their grandfather was alive he had always told them to never go up there and they had followed that rule given that it seemed to be the only rule of the house. But that never stopped the niggling desire to go up there and learn what was in there.

Now that she was up there, her curiosity got the better of her and she looked around openly. The dark paneling of the room could’ve been considered too dark if it wasn’t for the large stained windows that stood just across from the door. There was junk that she could recognize as from when they were younger but there was also junk that she had never seen before, boxes of clothing laid off to the side. It was what was front and center that drew her attention though; a large wooden pedestal that stood to her chest with a leather bound green book that had gold words on it and silver circles that stood apart.

“What is this?” She asked, awe in her voice as she touched it. It was as hard as it looked with a feel of electricity around it.

“Magic book.” Liisa answered, sitting on the chest behind her.

Ema moved up behind her as Liisa started to recount her earlier day and leaned over her shoulder, also staring at the gold words that were stamped on front. “It’s pretty looking.” She muttered.

Liisa moved to stand in front of them, opening her mouth to say something when the circles on the book moved closer, entwining themselves. There was a soft wind chime sound and a tingling feeling all up their arms before it stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Okay, what was that?” She asked, feeling as though those words were going to be common place for however long it took to explain everything that was going on.

Nikolaj left quarter to five, giving them his card in case they found something else they needed fixing – not that he needed to, Ema had already mentioned that their plumbing was messed up and sometimes they didn’t get hot water and he had given his word that he would check that out the next day. And then they were left in the kitchen, surrounded by books – including The Book – and trying to research everything.

“So we’re witches?” Elizaveta questioned yet again, “That just doesn’t make sense, I can’t remember mom or dad ever using magic.”

“None of us can, so if they had powers they made sure never to use them.” Liisa said, “What I don’t get is why?”

“Maybe because the whole Charmed prophecy mentioned in Prue’s book.” Ema suggested, “I mean, logically if your family is destined to produce the most powerful good witches ever, strong enough to defeat the – what was the name again? The Source of all Evil – then I would assume that you’d be hunted. Maybe that’s why the never used their powers, at least after we were born, because they were scared of being found.”

Elizaveta shrugged and nodded, “Sounds like it can be legitimate.” She muttered, her hand gliding over the pages of the book in front of her. “But, the Charmed Ones are sisters, not cousins so I mean, why do you think we’re them?” She pointed her question to Liisa who shrugged herself.

“It’s not that I think we’re them, it just makes sense.” She sighed, “So according to Prudence, the Charmed Ones are supposed to have the powers of Melinda Warren; one who would move objects with their mind, one to freeze time itself and one who would see the future. So far, that seems to mean us. I mean, I haven’t had a premonition yet, but I’m trying. Also, according to the book, no other trio, when there is a trio of siblings or cousins or such like that, have powers that line up like that. Normally they’re random powers but we have the powers of the Charmed Ones.”

“That’s true. This book from our great grandmother says that only the Charmed Ones should have those powers. Apparently, she herself had a variation of the freezing one and it seems like Gramps had the power of premonition.” Ema said, reading the words. “My thing is what does that even mean? What does being Charmed mean?”

“That all evil is after you?” Elizaveta said shaking her head. “I don’t know but if we are charmed, we have to be careful. We don’t want these demons and warlocks to just be able to hunt us down.”

“That’s just it,” Liisa said, “apparently, they should be able to. They’re drawn to the strength of our powers so the stronger we get by using our powers, the more demons that will show up.”

“And if we don’t use our powers, we’re sitting ducks.” Elizaveta added, sighing. “Basically, if you’re right and we’re the Charmed Ones, we’re doomed no matter what we do?”

“Yeah.” Liisa said, shrugging slightly. She reached over to touch her cousin’s hand, “Sor-!”

Her words fell away into a gasp as she was pulled into a premonition, at least she hoped, where they were standing in the attic, encircled by a group of demons with the bodies of four people she didn’t know laying on the floor, knocked out. The group of demons came closer, hands outstretched as some held fire in the palms of their hands. One of them threw a flame ball at her and she ducked, being pulled out of the premonition.

“Oh my god!” She said, breathing heavily. The world was coming back and she looked at the worried faces of her cousins. “Oh my god.”

“What’s the matter?” Ema asked, leaning over the table to rest a hand on her cheek, checking her temperature. “What just happened?”

“A vision?” Elizaveta asked.

Liisa nodded, huffing slightly. “Yeah, it was terrible. We were, we were in the attic and there were these demons surrounding us, balls of fire from their hand and there were these people I didn’t recognized – maybe people we’re supposed to protect? - laying on the floor, knocked out. I thought we were going to die!”

A moment of silence before Ema asked, “Did we?”

“What?”

“Did we die?”

“I don’t know, the vision didn’t last long.” She replied, a nervous feeling sinking its way into her stomach. “Let me try again.”

She reached for Elizaveta again, hoping to be pulled back into the same premonition but wasn’t. Instead, for over half hour, she kept reaching for her cousins, hoping that somehow a simple touch from them she could figure out their fate. Shaking her head, she placed her hands on the table, finally giving up. “Nothing.”

“Maybe the Book has something in it that will help?” Ema suggested, grabbing for the green book. Before she could touch it though, the pages flipped open as if they were being looked through by someone invisible, stopping on a page. “Elizaveta?”

“Nope.” She said. “At least I don’t think so.” Elizaveta was the only one to not have used her powers while the three of them were together, but they were sure she had telekinesis due to her explanation of her interview and the mysterious elevator that skipped all the floors but the one she was going to.

“Well, what’s the page?” Liisa asked, leaning over the table, trying to read it upside down.

“To call a lost witch.”

“Why would we need to call a lost witch?” She asked, furrowing her brow. “I mean, the Charmed ones are the power of three, and there are three of us.”

Elizaveta hummed, “Well the Book opened up to it for a reason.”

“Do we even have the ingredients to cast it?” Liisa asked as Ema got up, moving over to the cabinet where she kept the herbs she used to cook.

“What do we need again?” She asked, pulling out glass jars. “Rosemary?”

“Rosemary, cypress and yarrow root? What is yarrow root?” Elizaveta asked, frowning.

“Yarrow root is the thing I use to make that tea you like so much.” Ema answered, shaking her head a bit. “I’ll need more cypress after this though.”

Liisa shook her head, “Okay I get rosemary, that’s normal for cooking, but what’s with the other stuff?”

“Gramps liked making his own tea and oils.” Ema answered, “Most of the teas he used when we were sick was made by him.”

“I did not know that.” Liisa muttered, looking down. She was trying to not think about it, but she didn’t really know her grandfather as much as she thought she did, her own anger keeping her from learning about the man that raised and loved her.

“So since we have the ingredients, should we try to cast it?”

The three looked at the ground, it was one thing to say they were witches when they were just playing around and reading things, but actually trying to do a spell, that was something different. Ema played with the glass jars while Liisa fingered the edges of the page, them both looking up to look at Eliza for direction. They always turned to her to make the difficult decisions.

“I think we should.” Eliza said.

Tables littered the large attic and they set themselves up on a low lying table near the pedestal that the Book sat upon. They had dug through the magic supplies throughout the entire attic for a mortar and pestle, a brass cauldron, candles and some crystals, which some reading had explained would protect them while they cast a spell.

“So we’ve done a protection circle,” Ema said, “now onto the spell, right?”

“Yup.”

“Okay, so in a silver mortar, put our ingredients and grind?” Elizaveta read, “Okay, you know what, Liisa you were a pagan for a while, you do this.”

“Ema was too!” Liisa said as she was handed the mortar. Both her cousins frowned at her and she shook her head, taking it. “Okay fine. Put the ingredients in for me.”

Ema put a pinch of rosemary, a sprig of cypress and a yarrow root in the mortar. and handed her the pestle. “While grinding it all up, chant the words.” The three of them stared at each other before nodding.

“Power of the witches rise course unseen across the skies come to us who call you near come to us and settle here.”

“What’s next?” Ema asked.

“Spill the blood of the caller-”

“What?”

Elizaveta laughed lightly, “We have to prick our fingers and place our blood in the mortar. and finish the chant.”

“No.” Ema said, clutching her fingers to her chest. “You know I have a problem with blood. And not to mention that’s completely unsanitary!”

“Ema.” Liisa groaned, dropping her head on the table. “You have to.”

“No.” She said sternly. “I’m not.”

Elizaveta grabbed the athame that they had placed beside Liisa and stabbed her finger, “Ok ow, but I’m not bleeding.” She said after a moment.

“Ugh.” Ema dropped her head to her hands before getting up, “Be right back.” She yelled as she exited the attic, leaving them in the circle.

“Did she just break the circle?” Liisa asked.

“I think.”

After two minutes, Ema came back carrying a black pouch. She entered the circle again and sat down, unzipping it and pulling out a plunger. “Here, this should work.”

“Why do you have one of those diabetes testing kits?” Liisa questioned as she was handed the plunger after Elizaveta had used it. Ema handed her a different lancet, telling her to drop the used one in the trash.

“Well, when Gramps had his stroke, it was attributed to diabetes and so I bought a couple for him since he kept losing his, saying it wasn’t diabetes. After a while, I bought my own so I could keep a watch on it. Diabetes can run in the family you know.” She answered.

Elizaveta frowned as she watched her cousin prick her finger and hold it over the mortar., “Wait, you can stab your finger to check for a disease they could never prove Gramps had, but a spell that should help us defend ourselves is a no go?”

“No, a spell where I have to stab myself with a ceremonial shared athame is where I draw the line.” Ema said, “Can we just..-”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Blood to blood, we summon thee blood to blood, return to me.”

The three cousins stared at each other as their chanting came to an end, waiting for something to appear or for someone to appear or, in general, for something to happen. After a minute though, Elizaveta sighed. “I don’t think anything’s going to happen.”

“Maybe we’re -”

The doorbell echoed through the house. Liisa clapped her hands together in excitement before she jumped up and started down the attic steps, Elizaveta and Ema one step behind her. They called for her to slow down, to think about it and her vision but she wasn’t listening. As she made her way to the front door, she slowed slightly.

Magical destiny time.

Elizaveta pushed her hand away, moving to stand in front. “I’ll open the door.” She said softly.

Her older cousin was always protective, always standing up against bullies and people who tried to make fun of them for not having parents – douchebags, Liisa thought – and it was highly appreciated when they were younger and in school, but not anymore. She wasn’t a little kid and she didn’t need a parent anymore. She needed a friend.

The door opened and Elizaveta tried to shield them but it didn’t work. Liisa could very clearly see the blonde and blacked haired women standing there, a tall, very white man with near white hair behind them. The blondes were smiling while the dark haired beauty was more reserved.

“Can I help you?” Elizaveta asked, hand on the door blocking them from coming inside.

One of the blondes sighed, “This place is exactly what I always thought it would be.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah, sorry!” The blonde said, “I’m Amelia, this is my sister Madeline and my other sister Rosalinda – we call her Rosa – and we are you cousins.”

“Well, like you’re first cousins twice removed or something like that.” Madeline said, “I think at least.”

“Okay?”

Rosa shot her sisters a look, “Did you three come into your powers recently?” She asked bluntly.

Elizaveta stiffened, “I’m sorry, you need to leave. We all have work in the morning -”

“I know,” Rosa said, “You’re going to be taking my place at the auction house, I remember you.”

Liisa watched as her cousin’s fingers turned white from how tight she was holding on the door, griping it with all she had. “Look, I’m not sure what this is but you need to leave.”

“No, wait!” Madeline said, cutting in. She pushed ahead from her siblings and gave them three a sweet look. “I know it seems like we’re crazy, but I promise, give us five minutes to explain everything to you.”

“I think we should give them a chance.” Ema said from her place off on the side, reaching to grab Eliza’s hand and removed it from the door. She moved to stand in front, “Come in, we can talk in the kitchen.”

“Start speaking though.” Elizaveta muttered, pulling her hand out of Ema’s grasp.

Madeline nodded and followed, “Okay, so was your grandfather named Ezra Halliwell?” She asked. They nodded and she continued, “Our grandmother was Victoria Halliwell, his cousin. She was the daughter of Prudence Halliwell, the cousin of Piper, your great grandmother. She had the power to move things with her mind, like Rosa does. She had our mother when she was young and our mother had us, raising us to be three powerful witches – but we think, since something happened and we were disqualified-”

“What caused you guys to be disqualified?” Liisa asked as she slid into her favorite seat; the head of the table that was pushed behind the small half wall that blocked the small dining table from the rest of the kitchen. Ema moved to start some tea while the rest of them sat in the mismatched chairs.

“Our mother fell in love with her whitelighter.” Madeline answered, her eyes flirting over to the man. “They loved each other so much but falling for your charge was – is forbidden and so to punish our mother, our father was taken from us and recycled.”

“What are whitelighters?” Elizaveta asked.

“Me.” The man said, “Gilbert Beilshmidt at your services.”

“Okay, what do you do?”

“Whitelighters are the guides for witches, they help teach them and keep them safe. Oftentimes they get assigned to witches who don’t know they’re witches yet to watch over them.” Gilbert paused, “I’m actually really surprised you three don’t have a whitelighter already.”

“Yeah, no whitelighter, just an ancient house who’s electric doesn’t always work and a cat.” Liisa muttered as Ema brought over the tea set, giving everyone a cup.

“Not a lot matches in this kitchen, does it?” Rosa asked as she lifted her bright blue mug and looked to her sister’s different colored mugs. Everything in the kitchen seemed mismatched besides the butcher block counters.

“Gramps let us fill this place with our things.” Ema said softly, “Since we’re three different people who liked multiple different things, we got some mismatched furniture to go with the house.”

“Grams Victoria always had everything perfect – our rooms though, she never had the heart to tell us to keep it clean.” Rosa said just as softly. A small smile graced her face before she continued, “Anyway, so once we were disqualified, you guys would’ve been the next trio born during this time and of our family line, leaving you three to become the Charmed Ones.”

“How much do you know about that?” Liisa asked, “We’ve been doing research in all our books but there isn’t much besides the prophecy.”

“There isn’t much in general. Grams tried to explain it to us but the Angel of Destiny visited her and explained her that it wasn’t her job to explain it to us.” Madeline replied, “We’ve done our own research but there isn’t much about the Charmed Ones anywhere besides that they’re supposed to destroy the Source.”

“So only the same things we found.” Liisa sighed, slumping in the chair.

“Okay, so wait, you guys were supposed to be the Charmed Ones?” Elizaveta asked, “Regardless of why you were disqualified, why was your destiny given to us?”

“Because you come from the Halliwell line and your parents were siblings which makes you guys more powerful than just normal cousins.” Amelia answered, “You guys would’ve been powerful witches even if you weren’t Charmed.”

“And because the Charmed Ones had to be born during this time.” Gilbert added, his face and voice serious, “Prophecies from Seers and Oracles have pointed to there being several great battles of Good vs Evil to happen in the coming years and those battles to have outcomes that determine much of the future – the Charmed Ones are needed for the side of good to win. So instead of waiting for another pair of siblings in the Halliwell line, the Angels of Destiny had you three imbued with the powers of the Charmed Ones.”

Silence overtook the room. Elizaveta stared at her tea cup, griping the handle a bit too hard. She had several harsh words to say about these people deciding their lives for them – all because the sisters who were supposed to be the Charmed Ones’ mother fell in love with someone she wasn’t – but she was beaten to the punch by Ema.

“When?” Ema asked, soft and angry. “When did they decide that this was our destiny to take?”

“I’m sorry.” Gilbert said instead of truly answering her and it was all that Ema apparently needed as she pushed her chair back and left the room.

“Em-” Liisa got up to follow but Elizaveta stopped her.

“Why are you sorry?” She asked, wanting to know the answer.

Gilbert looked down. “The Elders went to the Angels of Destiny three days after Amelia and Madeline was born – a few weeks later, due to your new destiny, your parents were marked for death.”

“Our destiny killed our parents?” Liisa muttered, a whimper escaping her lips as she dropped back in her seat.

“Destiny has a funny way -”

“It wasn’t funny!” Elizaveta shouted, shaking her head and glaring at the man-angel. “It was traumatic. It was my parents dying in fire, Ema’s dying in a car crash and Liisa’s dying in a boat accident. It was leaving home and having to lose our languages to assimilate here. It was losing everything that we knew and coming here.”

“Coming here couldn’t be all that bad, right?” Amelia said softly, a small smile growing on her face as she tried to get them to see the bright side.

Liisa shook her head, “Gramps was great but knowing that what we thought were freak accidents were in fact forced upon our parents as a way to get us to where we needed to be, that’s something that can’t be painted over.” She slid her seat back and left the kitchen, a flurry of blonde hair and tears.

Elizaveta sighed, leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her brown hair. She could feel her body shaking, the anger she felt mixing with the sadness and the slurry of emotions that came from relieving her parents death. “They’re going to be angry for a while, why don’t you guys leave and then come back tomorrow night?” She offered after a few moments in silence.

“Sure.” Madeline said, getting up and taking her cup and her sister’s cups to the counter to clean them off. Gilbert came up behind her and handed her his cup, wrapping his arms around her and leaned on her shoulder.

“Is that another reason you guys didn’t get the destiny?” Elizaveta asked after a moment of staring at them. They were a cute couple but she knew that if their mother lost them their destiny by having children with her whitelighter, one of the should’ve-been Charmed Ones having a relationship with their whitelighter was probably another strike.

Rosa nodded, giving a small smile to Eliza. “It is.”

“Why aren’t you mad at her then?”

“Because Madeline’s happiness is more important than a destiny.” She replied, getting up. “Thank you for listening to us, even with the bad revelations. If any of you three ever want to talk, I’m here. We understand the lost of parents to supernatural destinies better than most do.”

“Thank you.”

Amelia followed Rosa’s action while Eliza debated whether she should get up to show them out or let them go out through the side door when she heard a crashing noise coming from upstairs. Before she knew it, she was up and out of her chair, running up the steps, calling her cousin’s names.

“Guys?” She yelled as she pushed the attic door opened.

In the center of the room, three men stood grinning dangerously. Liisa laid close to the door on her side, her breaths coming short. Ema was across the room, crawling backwards towards the Book while they menaced behind her. She was muttering something in Estonian and Elizaveta felt worried at the way the words were slurred. She lifted her arms, swinging it out widely and tossing the men away from Ema while Gilbert went over to Liisa, holding his hand over her, a bright white light coming off his hand.

Liisa gasped awake and jolted up. “Ema!”

Elizaveta looked around the room and found Ema sitting with the Book in her lap and her glass askew as she flipped through pages after pages, her lips mouthing something. Elizaveta cursed the fact that her cousin opted to read instead of running. She rushed over to her, bending down to check her eyes as Ema struggled over being fussed over.

“Stop, I’m checking to make sure you don’t have brain damage.” She ordered as she kept an eye out for the men. They slowly got up, just as the others came to join her. Tall, fair and not handsome laughed before letting out a screech noise.

“Gilbert what is that?” She heard Madeline ask as she covered her ears. Gilbert shrugged mid-glowing hand over Ema before continuing in what he was doing. Ema tried to bat him away, but he kept his hands steady.

“What are you doing?”

“Whitelighters can heal their charges.” Gilbert answered, “Though you aren’t mine, you are innocents and that is another thing we can heal.”

Elizaveta nodded as her eyes flickered to the three sisters that stood above them, Rosa holding out her hand as blue and white orbs encircled things around the attic and dropped onto the demons. That screeching noise must have been a call to their brethren, she thought as she stood, grabbing the Book from Ema and dropping it on the pedestal. She held her hands above it, closed her eyes and wished for something to happen that could help them.

A soft jingle filled the air and the Book opened, flipping itself like before.

“What are you doing?” Amelia asked as she came to stop beside her.

Elizaveta shrugged, “It worked once.” She answered as the Book came to a stop on a page referencing the demons that were currently filling the attic.

Ema stood up, coming to stand next to her right as a demon charged towards them. Her wrists flicked and the demon came to a stop, Eliza using her own powers to move the demon into the one charging for Madeline. Amelia took over looking through the Book – touching the old paper as softly as she could, almost reverently, as they continued flinging demons across the room and into each other.

“They can only be defeated by a power of three spell.” She yelled through the noise. A look of consternation appeared on her face as flipped to the front of the Book.

“I’m sorry,” Ema asked, shaking her head, “What is that?”

“A power of three spell is one of the most powerful spells that you three will have – it’s a rhyme that maybe your parents used to say to you or arc words that continued to show up in your life.” Amelia answered.

“Really? Tropes in a moment like this?” Ema laughed nervously, “Let’s save the tropes for when there isn’t demons trying to kill us.”

“Demons,” Elizaveta chuckled humorlessly, “demons are attacking us. What even is my life?" She shook her head, trying to clear it. "We don't have any words like that."

"Use this then: the power of three will set us free." Amelia said, going to stand with her sisters in front of them. "Join hands."

Elizaveta looked towards both Liisa and Ema before grabbing their hands, squeezing comfortingly. "Ready?" She asked softly as the sisters in front of them stopped throwing the demons back and moved to stand beside them.

Their chanting echoed through the attic, stopping the demons in their track. The words brought a sort of strength to them and Elizaveta watched as Liisa grabbed Amelia's hand, Ema doing something similar on her side with Madeline, who grabbed Rosalinda. With all their hands joined, their chanting grew louder, the sisters joining in. The demons screeched in pain and twisted in pain, fire growing under their feet before they disappeared, screaming and yelling.

The attic was silent as they stood, their hands conjoined and Gilbert standing behind them looking at them in awe. Elizaveta stared at the black smudges on the ground before letting her hands drop to her side, letting go of her cousins. Her head swirled with what had just happened. Several hours ago, she had been normal – or so she thought. Her powers had been dormant, but now they weren't and she had just fought off a horde of demons with a trio of sister witches and her own cousins.

She had been right to ask, was this what her life was coming to? Was this what it was going to be like all the time? If so, things would have to change.

She heard Ema and Liisa let out twin sighs before they leaned against her. "What just happened?" Liisa asked, her voice awed and confused. "I mean, did we really just fight demons?"

"You did." Rosalinda said kindly, giving them all a small smile as she dropped into the nearest chair. "I know it's scary but this is your life now."

Could they handle this as their life now?

The sisters ended up staying the night. Ema had showed them to the two guest bedrooms, saying that two of them would have to share. Madeline and Amelia had decided to since they were twins and that Rosalinda deserved her own bed for the night. Liisa had loaned them a pair of pajamas each and Elizaveta had given them an extra blanket, knowing that the bedrooms were often drafty since they were so unused and their radiators were turned off so that they saved on the heating bill.

Gilbert had offered to take them back home after he talked to the Elders but the sisters had turned him down, wanting to stay after what had happened.

Elizaveta had stayed up the entire night, her hand wrapped around a coffee cup whose contents had long since gone cold. She listened as the sounds of life began to stir from upstairs, first from the room where she had put Rosa. The other woman was probably the early riser out of her sisters as it seemed that there were similarities that were shared between them. She wondered if it was because of the whole witch thing or if it was just the fact that they were in similar situations.

Whatever it was, Eliza was sure that she would learn more about these sisters who were related to her as she knew that after last night, neither Liisa or Ema was going to let go of them anytime soon. There was a connection and the more Eliza read, the more she assumed that Rosalinda and her sisters were going to be apart of their coven. She didn't know how that would work, but Elizaveta was willing to bet that it was going to happen regardless of what those meddlesome Elders had to say about it.

Getting up, Elizaveta dumped out her coffee and poured herself a new one, listening as unfamiliar steps made their way down the steps. She was hoping that Ema was going to be down to start breakfast but instead it was Madeline, who moved about their kitchen seamlessly. She seemed to know deep down that it wasn't her kitchen and she blinked the sleep from her eyes, taking everything in stride. It took her only five minutes to fully understand their chaotic kitchen organization before she began to cook.

"Hi." Elizaveta said after a moment, moving back to sit at the table. Madeline started and turned, looking towards her with wide eyes hidden behind her wire glasses.

"Oh, sorry." She said, her voice soft and sweet, "I should've asked if it was okay if I cooked, I'm just so used to waking up and cooking."

Elizaveta waved her off, "No, it's fine. Ema's usually the one who cooks and I think she might find it nice to have a day off of cooking for the house."

Madeline gave a smile before turning back to the pan on the stove. "I love your kitchen, it's so rustic." She said, grabbing a plate from the cabinets. "Our dad had updated the entire kitchen before we were born so it's newer than everything here, but also a bit cold."

"About your dad," Elizaveta began, "whatever happened to him?"

"He was recycled." Madeline answered stiffly. The words just barely coming out. "I was three when it was decided that he and mom couldn't continue being together. She was heartbroken and tore the world apart, punishing the Elders for their decision."

"I meant, what does it mean to be recycled?"

"It means that our souls are taken and thrown back down to earth to be reincarnated." Gilbert answered from the kitchen door. "I hope you don't mind me just popping in."

"I don't but I'm sure Ema will; she's a chef and her kitchen is her home." Elizaveta replied, motioning for him to sit. "She'll deal though."

"Wait, Ema's a chef?" Madeline asked, smiling, "I'm one too—or well, not hired yet, but I am one."

"Really?" That was another similarity between them.

"I recently lost my last job at a diner when it closed, but I've been dreaming of the day when I could open my own restaurant." She said, going back to cooking. "It's a dream that right now is unrealized. I've had to apply to other things besides cooking, but I'm determined."

Elizaveta nodded, humming as she realized that Ema's own dream was similar. She too wanted to own a restaurant, wanted the thrill of both managing and cooking at a place she could call her own. Despite her cousin's insistence that she was not a manager, she worked well as someone in control of others and Elizaveta knew that if her own dream of ever owning a restaurant came to be, she would also control what happened behind the scenes as well. It was perhaps her cousin's biggest flaw: she was a control freak. Elizaveta was only thankful that she was not like those control freaks who were in everyone's face.

"Well I believe in you, Maddie." Amelia said coming into the kitchen, rubbing at her sleepy eyes. Liisa followed close by, her stance almost identical.

"I smell pancakes." She muttered as she slid into the chair next to Eliza. "Ema's still asleep?" She asked, sipping coffee from the cup in front of her.

"No." Ema replied as she walked into the kitchen, looking ready for the day. "Ema jumped in the shower and took one before someone else could." Ema walked to the coffee pot and made herself something to drink, watching the blonde cooking.

"I hope you don't mind?" Madeline asked and Ema shook her head.

"The less I have to cook, the happier." She said, "I'm always cooking when I wake up and get home, so a brief reprise is nice."

They laughed together, some sort of chef humor, before Rosalinda made her way down and into the kitchen. It was obvious that she had used the other shower, taking advantage of the fact that her bedroom was right next to it. She had redressed in her outfit from yesterday and looked refreshed and ready for the day. Rosa sat next to her sister and watched everyone, just like Eliza was doing. They each joined in on the small talk that seemed to fill their pre-breakfast time, but it seemed as if their younger family members were more than willing to just fill up the silence that would've been left if it was up to Eliza and Rosa.

By time Madeline – and Ema because she couldn't keep as still as she wanted to – had finished breakfast, it had become an invariable feast. Everyone helped moved the plates over to the dining room table, taking places next to each other. Elizaveta took her normal place at the head of the table, watching as Rosa struggled to figure where she should sit. Inching the second head of table seat out, she nodded her head.

Yes, this was going to be new to all of them. It was obvious that they had become close, that they had become a coven like she had thought and that meant that roles were going to be defined.

Giving Rosa a small smile, she dug into the food. It could wait though. They had just defeated a big bad and they didn't need to start focusing on what that meant for them. Especially since she and her cousins had yet to even really come to terms with their own magic. But it would be one step at a time, for right now, she decided. Just one step at a time.

A/N: While this will mostly be about our main power of three, I always hated in the show that they never really reached out to more witches. I mean, if the episode needed them to - or wanted to introduce a minor character who was a witch, they would, but other than that you see them struggling to fight all these demons without any help. That’s why in this story, they will be creating a coven-esque group with our should’ve-been-charmed ones. Honestly, I decided this because I wanted characters who don’t really interact with each other to do so. I don’t know, it was an idea that didn’t escape me and I had hoped would be done in time for FU week but it wasn’t and so it’s a late birthday present for me. Anyway, I hope you guys like it and it will be up on my AO3 shortly.

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