Hetalia : Country x Reader and Country x Country Drabble/One-shot Stories

Sweden x Reader : Letters

--- WARNINGS: None ---

Yes, I have returned with another one-shot, this one was requested by moused700, I hope you didn't mind the wait!

I got the idea from a picture of Sweden holding a letter, with an embarrassed kind of look on his face. I hope you all enjoy!

Name:

- Berwald Oxenstierna = Sweden

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You had heard of stories about the great forrest, tales of people venturing in and never returning. Some claimed that the forrest was cursed, and that you could hear the screams of the lost souls who couldn't find their way out, as they floated around in search for a new foolish victim to claim. They said that the forrest would use mirages and hallucinations to drive you off the path to your awaiting death, adding that the people that you 'saw' were those you loved the most. But no stupid ghost-story was going to stop you.

Tonight, you were going to meet the mystery man who sent you letters filled with literature. Sometimes it was rewrites of Edger Allen Poe, other times an argumentative debate or a compelling folk-story. However, the most precious to you, was a simple Swedish sentence, with directions to meet and exchange a final letter. The only thing that stood in your way, was the forrest.

Creeping out of bed as the rest of your family slept soundly, you pulled a coat on over your pajamas and silently stepped out into the night, a handful of letters in one hand, and an old gas-lit lantern in the other. To the side, widely-spaced street lamps cast ghostly shadows across the roads and shop fronts, making you wonder what hid in the shadowy alleys. You gulped and walked on.

Soon, the outskirts of the forrest loomed into view, blocking out the light of the full moon. Ominous sounds of distant birds chattering, cicada symphonies and the throaty croaks of the frogs seemed to create a perfect orchestral setting for a horror movie. Clutching the letters tighter, you stepped over the yellow police-tape that blocked the entrance, and disappeared into the trees.

You looked over your shoulder, but it was as if the forrest had engulfed you, as you could no longer see the some-what comforting glow of the distant town lights. Just a dense wall of trees that seemed to stretch on as far as the eye could see, and further. With a pang of loneliness blossoming in your chest, you turned to face the beaten, bracken-fringed track and started to walk.

Hours went by, and you started to feel drowsy. Your feet screamed in protest with every step you made, and the hallucinations weren't just old-wives tales. The cold midnight breeze rattled in your bones, and the lamp was burning out fast. Maybe you'd never find the man, and all of this walking was just a waste of time. Resting up against a giant tree-trunk you'd never find in any normal Swedish town, you started to doze as your only source of light burnt out to nothing.

. . .

"Hej," Said a sudden voice, one you had never heard before. You felt something, or someone, carefully shake you awake. You squinted as your eyes were suddenly exposed to a harsh light. Was the sun already up? Once your vision refocused, you realised it was still pitch black, and that the light was coming from another gas-lamp, clutched in a gloved grip. You followed the hand up with your eyes, past a navy sleeve and up to the head of a man, his features barely visible.

A quiet rustle of fabric indicated that the man had repositioned himself closer, and he brought the lantern closer to his face. He looked young, save for a few spidery lines under his eyes, probably from being deprived of sleep. In the yellow glow of the light, his hair looked like liquid white-gold, short and choppy. Behind the rims of his glasses, his sea-green eyes reflected the light like a mirror, though his gaze and expression were chilling.