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The house was still and cold.
Bernhard stood in the doorway, having just rid the snow from his boots, by tapping the toe to the ground outside. He stepped in after a few moments, allowing the familiar scents of his home to soothe him. Clean linen and kind caramel filled his nose. It may have been a little embarrassing for someone that had such a presence as him to like sweet things as much as he did, but he couldn't find it in himself to care much.
Besides, comments from his colleagues had been the only thing to really poke at him recently. This, that and the third about his face, his subpar… verbal skills, so to say. Everything had been coming under fire recently. He didn't really understand it, why now?
Bernhard shrugged his coat off and hung it on the stair banister, allowing it to defrost a little from the light dusting of chill that had settled upon its body.
He'd always been aware of his expressions, rather lack of. He knew how he came off to people- cold, intimidating and maybe a little agitated- but it never really mattered because it wasn't something he'd thought of too much. The only people he interacted with then were nobles and other nations, where hundreds of years ago having a cold exterior and stoic presence had been all the rage. He'd definitely persuaded a few people with just his tense expression alone, entertaining the concept that his deep monotonous voice had been enough to avoid a few wars for a moment whilst he made his way down the entryway.
But times were changing. With the idea of a nation’s representative now being more of a mascot or figure for their people, rather than someone that worked away from the public eye alongside the monarch in private matters concerning the country, he'd never been more aware of just how standoffish he actually came across as. His colleagues and other personnel throughout the recent years had been badgering him over smiling more, trying to look more approachable and speaking in a higher, softer manner even.
It was quite ridiculous he thought, though chipping eventually would find puncture deep enough after so long. Whatever. There was something that'd been more on his mind lately, and it wasn't the new flavour of tea that he'd been meaning to try, and was the reason why he had gone out at 5 in the morning.
His house was still. There was only one reason for the calm atmosphere.
Magnus wasn't here. It'd been a long while since he'd seen him, let alone stayed in Bernhard’s residence. He didn't know if it felt like forever or a second ago, despite knowing the concrete answer.
Sometimes it felt like a second ago, when he drove close to the border and felt his presence, and knew he felt his too. Or when seeing one of those stupid ships in bottles that he loved to collect for some reason. The memory of Magnus proudly showing him a finished project flashed in his mind then, remembering the content lilt in his voice and wide smile on his face. The pride on his face was nothing like the outlandish hubris he'd exerted in his ‘glory days’. No, this more humble, softer pride had left his grin kind and honest, eyes bright and jovial.
Bernhard thought it suited him. A nice change from his warlording past, a step back from being a gallivanting globe trotter. He exhaled in amusement at the thought, pouring the water into his mug. His face stayed the same.
But it'd all been moving too fast; too much too soon. It wasn't realistic, and giving the Dane the comfort he needed, through empty promises and kisses, only made Bernhard feel worse. It made him feel like he was just saying hot air to shut up him, appease him, which he really didn't want to do. But once Magnus got something in his mind, it was hard for him to let it go, whether it be an event he wanted them both to attend, the way he'd do his spiked hair, or the fear Bernhard would leave him.
Bernhard switched on the kettle.
It's not like they were stable enough for something like this. As nations, their complex history definitely left some feelings lingering from the past. Their dynamic of sex and non-committed activities they'd held for hundreds of years, without ever being romantic, was certainly not the beginning of your typical love story. He fished a mug from the cupboard.
Looking back, Bernhard wasn't even sure if any romantic desires were felt on his part of things. It was mostly Magnus’ idea. They'd had such close proximity for so many centuries, it just felt like it was bound to happen, especially considering how sex mad they'd been for each other during Kalmar.
It was doomed from its lust filled start, he thought, watching the kettle bubble softly. When the bubbling stopped, he switched the plug off and poured the boiling water into his mug.
Sometimes he didn't know why he agreed to be in a relationship with the guy, if he wasn't sure of his feelings for him.
Did it make him feel more human?
Then again, he didn't feel things the same as others, which didn't upset him as much as it used to now. Being an odd nation just did that to you, he guessed. The whole sex thing with ‘love’ attached had frightened him a little anyway, if a scary guy like him could be frightened that is. It felt like an expectation, a ‘when’ rather than an ‘if’. Something about the additional intimacy that would now be attached to it deterred him a lot, weighed him down. He thought about it a lot, back then and now.
Feelings were wishy washy anyway, just like the liquid he stirred in his mug now, the pleasant scents of honey and lemon gently wafting up to his face.
Bless the guy, he sometimes thought. Bernhard placed the teaspoon in the sink, willing to let it sit there for a bit before he washed it. He'd always had a heart too big for him, felt so much he couldn't help but burst with emotion, the humanity of it all flowing through him. The total opposite of him.
He wondered how Timo and Lukas managed to do it. They seemed happy though, even if he felt a little awkward around them sometimes.
Oh well, what's done was done, and there was no way in hell he'd go back on his decision. He'd felt suffocated with Magnus, unable to exist separately from him. Oftentimes he’d felt himself craving the isolation that had followed him throughout his long life, which obviously wasn't what a relationship was meant to do to you. Magnus had woven himself into Bernhard, bones kissing from the claustrophobic closeness, not allowing himself to exist without the Swede, too attached and too much for Ber.
But…
Magnus, in this day and age, wouldn't have said he looked truly, truly frightening. Would only tell him to smile as a joke, he'd never be mean about it. Perhaps a lifetime ago, during colder times and frigid wars, he would've. But he never really did now. He wouldn't have niggled at his expressions, nagged at his body language and made him feel like an incongorable mess.
He would've tried to untangle him, understand him, the best he could whilst being his opposite.
Magnus was a lot of things, but he wasn't cruel.
Bernhard sat down with his mug, switching on the radio and letting the chatty background sound fill the empty space between his thoughts. He watched the steam slowly rise, feeling the warmth from the beverage spread into his large hand, enjoying it.
He wasn't sure what he thought. They were never going to work out. Magnus was hot and he was cold. Fire and ice. Heart and head. Even where they lived couldn't have been more different. Bernhard had always preferred living on his own, in the comforts of his own nation’s countryside, happiest when the sign of human life was a while away. Magnus couldn't have been more attracted to the city, the hustle and bustle of his capital. It would've been cruel to deprive him of his natural habitat.
Danmark wasn't a bad guy by any means. He just wasn't compatible with Sverige, in that manner. They could be friends, maybe.
Okay maybe not.
He gazed out the window, watching the fog calmly roll around. It was probably going to rain soon. He wondered if it would rain in Copenhagen too. He didn't know if he wanted them to share the rain, both wet and maybe a little miserable despite the distance, or enjoy the rain for himself. He tried not to dwell on it.
He really didn't know what he felt.
He took a sip from his tea, watching the pale fog twist and turn in the soft breeze. Scratch that; he thought this cuppa was nice.