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Worldwide Secrets - The Rewrite

Chapter Text

For once, things were actually getting done at an EU meeting. Well that's not entirely correct, but the meeting wasn't uncontrollable chaos. Nations were actually paying attention or pretending to pay attention to the speaker, and Germany's only had to yell once. So in a way, the meeting had been pretty successful. It's a shame that it had to be ruined. 

 

"Oh Adelwulf!  Look at them!" An unfamiliar voice coos, stopping the meeting in it's tracks. All heads turn to look at the origin of the voice, a woman with wavy, long, blonde hair and dressed in an ancient Gallic outfit. Beside her was a stern-faced man with long, straight blonde hair that held a couple thin braids. The man was dressed in ancient Germanic tribal clothing. "They're so precious and grown up!" 

 

"Ja they are, Genovefa," the Germanic man - for there's no mistaking that accent - agrees, his eyes roaming over the gathered nations. A proud look entered said eyes when they landed on a few certain nations. 

 

"Sir, Ma'am," Germany speaks up, not recognizing either unlike a few shocked nations. "I'm going to have to ask you to le-" Germany is cut off by two more people appearing out of thin air. This time, it's a woman with fiery red hair in wild curls wearing an ancient Celtic outfit. Accompanying her is a woman with long, platinum blonde hair in clothes one would find on someone from the ancient area of Kievan Rus. 

 

"Mum?!" Scotland, here because he wants to annoy England and badger him about independence, exclaims in shock. 

 

"Alistair!" The red-headed woman returns the greeting with a wide smile. The other woman scans the room, frowning when she can't seem to find what - or who - she's looking for. 

 

"Vati?" Austria's reaction to the blonde man is delayed and confused, as if he doesn't believe the man before him is actually there. 

 

"I knew you'd survive," the Germanic man says proudly, making Austria blush. When he was young, back before Austria was even a nation, Roderich was a sickly child, and there were several times where it seemed that he wouldn't reach nationhood. 

 

Before anyone else could react, three more people appeared. One was a woman with wild blonde curls, though not as wild as the redhead's. She wore ancient Scandinavian clothing, like what the wives of successful Vikings would wear. Beside her was a man with short brown hair and three odd curls. He wore a white Roman toga with a red sash. The final member of the party is an Iberian woman with a kind face and long brown waves in her hair. She's dressed, as the others are, in ancient clothing. 

 

"¡Mamá!" Spain cries out happily, tears streaking down his face. Portugal sits stunned, mouth agape but silent. 

 

"¡Mijos!" The woman smiles, tears beginning to fall from her eyes as well. 

 

"Nonno!" North and South Italy exclaimed, happy tears in both of their eyes. And never mind, North Italy is crying those tears now. 

 

"My boys!" He shouts happily, opening his arms wide for a hug that the two Italians practically jump into. 

 

"Why did I have to get stuck with Rome?" The Scandinavian woman asks, her accent prominent. 

 

"Mor?" Denmark asks in surprise, eyes wide and emotional. The woman smiles proudly at him, making him burst into joyful tears as well. 

 

"I don't understand," Germany says, looking desperately to Austria. "Who are these people?" However, before the other Germanic can reply, three more appear. 

 

The first is a North African woman dressed in ancient Egyptian clothing fit for a Pharaoh. She has sleek black hair and her flowing dress is an off-white color. Beside her is a woman wearing a long Greek tunic. She has wavy brown hair that's pulled up into an elegant style, a few odd curls sticking out from her head. The final member of the group is a woman with straight, dirty blond hair dressed in old clothing from the Baltic region. 

 

The first woman doesn't bother scanning the crowd, knowing who she's looking for won't be present here. However, the other two light up with joy at seeing who they're looking for. 

 

Greece and Cyprus stare agape at the second woman. Well, after Cyprus wakes Greece up that is. 

 

"Mother?" Greece asks sleepily. "This isn't how my dreams usually go."

 

"That's because it's not a dream!" Cyprus says, nudging the other. "That's really mom!"

 

Meanwhile, the Baltic woman is hugging the three Baltic nations, tears rolling down her face. "Look at you three! So strong! I'm so proud of you!" 

 

Estonia and Lithuania are in shock, and Latvia is confused. He doesn't know or remember this woman, but the other two do. 

 

"What is going on?!" Germany asks, heavily confused. He doesn't know any of these people, and he doesn't know why the other nation's know them either. 

 

"In due time Ludwig, we are waiting on three more to join us," the Germanic man, Adelwulf says. 

 

"How do you know my name?" He asks, just as the final three arrive, two men and one woman. 

 

All look rather similar, with dark skin and hair. The  woman is dressed in Native American clothing, with feathers and beads braided into her hair. Her appearance makes England, Spain, and France pale. The first man is dressed as an Aztec warrior. His eyes narrow at the sight of Spain, who swallows thickly and pales a bit more. The final man is dressed as Incan nobility, and by this point Spain is ghostly pale. Sitting next to him, Portugal can hear him muttering rapid chants and prayers in Latin. 

 

"We are the Ancients," Adelwulf announces, gathering all attention in the room to him. "And we have come to stop you from making a grave mistake. But before we begin, we are missing several key people."

 

"We will also be relocating you to more comfortable environment," the Greek woman announces. "If you are not relocated, you may leave the building." 

 

With that, a blinding flash of white fills the room. When it dissipates, the Ancients as well as Scotland, England, France, Spain, Portugal, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, North and South Italy, Austria, Hungary, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Latvia, Lithuania, Greece, and Cyprus are somewhere else. The room is furnished like a giant lounge, with an enormously large white canvas screen pulled down over one wall. There's an enormous sectional couch five yards/meters away from the screen with a large coffee table in between the two. On the coffee table is a projector and large cushions litter the available floor space. 

 

"Sit down and make yourselves comfortable," the woman names Genovefa invites the nations. As several nations sit down, filling up about half the couch, the Scandinavian, Native American, Egyptian, and British women begin chanting. 

 

First to appear are Russia, Ukraine, and Belarus. 

 

"Mama!" Ukraine and Russia exclaim at seeing the woman with platinum blonde hair. They run up to hug her, leaving Belarus to stand awkwardly. She, like Germany, knows nothing about these people. 

 

Them Iceland, Norway, Prussia, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein come.

 

"Mor!" Gasps Norway, who is hugged by the Scandinavian woman. Iceland joins Germany and Belarus in the 'clueless and confused' trio.

 

Liechtenstein and Prussia run to hug Adelwulf with shrieks of "Vati!" Switzerland is pulled into the hug as well.

 

Next China, Japan, Hong Kong, Macau, and Taiwan arrive.

 

"Romulus! Anya!" China exclaims at seeing his old friends. 

 

"Yao!" Rome hugs China. "It's been so long, old friend!" China is stunned silent at seeing the rest of the Ancients. 

 

 After them are Turkey, Australia and New Zealand. 

 

"Rome, you old bastard!" Turkey greets Rome with a smirk. The Roman laughs heartily and Greece and Cyprus's mother subtly moves away from the Turk, eyeing him warily. 

 

Finally North and South Mexico, Brazil, Ecuador, Venezuela, Canada, America and an unknown woman arrive. 

 

Canada and America hug the native woman with bright smiles. The Mexicos hug the Aztec warrior, and Ecuador practically jumps at the Incan nobleman. 

 

As everything begins to calm down, the gathered nations begin quiet. All but one. 

 

"What the fucking hell?!" The unknown woman exclaims. She's dark-skinned, dark-haired and dressed in proper traditional Polynesian  clothing.  

 

New Zealand's eyes widen, knowing that clothing and foul mouth anywhere. "Leinani?!" He asks, excited. 

 

"Tane?!" The personification asks, whirling around to face him. New Zealand practically tackles the woman in a hug, laughing. 

 

"We thought you were dead!" He exclaims, pulling back to look at her. "After your islands were made a part of his country we thought you faded or something!"

 

"This asshole?" She jabs her thumb at America. "Please! Despite what his people are trying to do, there's no way I'd just leave like that!" 

 

New Zealand then punches her in the shoulder. "Then call or something! He has my number! We all miss you!"

 

She rubs her shoulder a bit after the punch. It didn't hurt much, but she certainly felt it. "I will," she promises him before whirling around to the Ancients. "So what the fuck are we doing here?!"

 

The other nation's are staring either at the woman or at America, wondering who this foul-mouthed, Pacific Island version of Romano is. And only one person isn't wary to ask. 

 

"Pardon me, but who are you?" England asks for the rest of the group.

 

"What? Atto hasn't told you?" The woman asks, pretending to be scandalized. 

 

"Who?" Finland chokes on his saliva, not expecting to hear that name. The woman points to America, who elbows her. 

 

"My name is Alfred, Leinani," he reminds her, his voice unusually soft and serious. "You know I don't use that name after the incident."

 

"Right, sorry," she says, genuinely looking it. "Anyway, I'm the Kingdom, or state I guess, of Hawai'i." She announces proudly. "Alfred doesn't usually go around talking about me because according to the asshole who run his government, I don't exist. Because of that, he legally can't talk about me or he gets fucked over." 

 

The nation's are surprised, but none more than Japan. 

 

"So this is why America-san was virtually unaffected during the war," he realizes. He's talking about the bombing of Pearl Harbor as afterward, America didn't show any physical signs that his major naval base had been bombed. He was more angry than injured.

 

"So you're the bastard who put me into a coma for seven months," Hawai'i says, focusing in on Japan. "That hurt like a bitch but it was the best sleep I got since I 'ceded myself' to the US," she says, making air quotes around the two words. 

 

"Gomennasai," Japan apologizes to her with a bow. She returns the gesture to him before thanking him for his apology, making his eyes widen a bit. 

 

"Now that you are all here," Adelwulf speaks up once more. "Let is explain. We are the Ancients, nations who have come and gone before you. I am Germania, otherwise known as Adelwulf. I am the father of Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Prussia, The Netherlands, Switzerland, Austria, Liechtenstein, England, and Germany."

 

"I am Gaul or Genovefa, the mother of France, The Netherlands, Switzerland, Belgium, Liechtenstein, and Luxembourg." the woman who arrived with him introduces herself. 

 

"I am Britannia or Evelyn," says the woman with fiery red curls. "My children are Scotland, Ireland, North Ireland, England, and Wales."

 

"I am Kievan Rus or Anya" this was the woman with platinum blonde hair. "Ukraine, Russia, and Belarus are my children."

 

"Scandinavia or Freyja. Mother of Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and Iceland." 

 

"Rome, But you can call me Roma, or Romulus!" The grandfather of North and South Italy introduces himself. "I have many grandchildren all over the Mediterranean!"

 

"I am Iberia or Maria!" She is the smiling Iberian woman with brown curly hair. "Spain and Portugal are my sons!"

 

"Ancient Egypt or Khmet," says the woman dressed as a Pharaoh. "My son is Egypt."

 

"Ancient Greece or Hellas, but you may call me Helena. I am the mother of Greece and Cyprus." 

 

"I am Baltia or Aestii, I use no human name," the Baltic woman introduces herself. "The Baltics and Prussia are my sons."

 

"I am Native North America, known also as the Great Mother. I too do not have a human name. I raised America and Canada, though they are not truly my sons." Still, she smiles at them as only a mother would. 

 

"Aztec Empire or Necuametl" the Aztec warrior announces his name with great pride. "My children are North and South Mexico." 

 

"Incan Empire or Hyulu," the man dressed as Incan nobility announces his name in the same manner as Aztec does. "Ecuador is my only child here." 

 

"I am afraid we do not have much longer," Germania announces. "We have come to stop you all from making a great mistake. In order to do so, we must reveal your secrets and, unfortunately, your memories." Protests arrive at this, but Germania silences them by speaking louder. "They shall be shown by this projector. There will be no leaving until everything has been shown, and all issues are resolved."

 

"There will be sensitive subjects," Britannia warns. "Things from your past will be brought up. We don't want any of you to hurt any longer, but that means we must re-open old wounds." 

 

"Be brave and strong," Native North America advises. "And be compassionate. Try to understand each other."

 

"You all are warriors," Aztec announces. "And like warriors you wear masks. Now is the time to put up your mask. This is a battle not won with warfare, but with honesty." 

 

"Heed our advice, and you will be successful," Ancient Egypt tells the group. 

 

"Once we leave, this doorway will open to reveal a kitchen," Scandinavia says, motioning to a doorway on the same wall as the screen that has just appeared. "And once it is night, this one will reveal a hallway with bedrooms," behind the Ancients a closed doorway appears. 

 

The Ancients' forms begin to fade. 

 

"Adieu," Gaul says with a wave. The gathered nations watch, many with tearful eyes, as the Ancient nation's fade out of sight.

 

 

Chapter Text

When the Ancients left, the projector whirred to life and a remote appeared next to it. As promised, the doorway to the kitchen opened up as well. The screen lit up with a list of information for the nations that went as follows: 

 

1) Everyone must be present before the memories can start

2) The memories will pause whenever multiple people are speaking or when someone leaves

3) There will be a minute pause after each memory for the witnesses to process it.

4) The memories will start at 9:30 am and stop from 1:00 to 2:00 for lunch, and 7:00 to 8:00 for supper. 

 

The nations read over this before Denmark grabs the remote.

 

“Let’s get this show on the road!” The Nordic exclaims, using the American phrase with gusto. 

 

The remote is promptly taken from him by Sweden, making Denmark pout, but he doesn’t try to take it back. Sweden looks over at the other forty or so nations gathered and, seeing nods and gestures for him to get on with it, he presses play. The projection flickers before beginning to show a scene.  

 

There’s a little girl, a young Hawai’I, sitting alone on an island. 

 

“This is not my land,” she says to herself quietly. She knows right away that she is a nation, a personification of a land and people. It’s something nations know innately 

 

She stands, beginning to walk in a specific direction, as if she is following a line only she can see. She walks for a few hours, if the changing position of the sun is any indication. Finally, she comes along a village. She enters it, stopping a woman to ask for help. 

 

“Where am I?” She asks, but the human looks at her oddly. She doesn’t understand Hawai’I. She tells the young personification as much, and Hawaii understands her, but for some reason she can’t understand Hawai’I. Hawai’I shakes her head and walks away from the woman, following the invisible line. She starts running through the village, but doesn’t make it very far before she bumps into someone and is sent to the ground. 

 

“You!” The person she ran into, a young boy her age, gasps. “You’re like me!” The language he’s speaking isn’t like the one the woman was. Instead, it sounds like the one she was speaking.

 

“You’re a nation!” He exclaims proudly. Once Hawai’I gets a good look at him, it becomes obvious that this boy is New Zealand, though his skin and hair are darker than his modern-day appearance. He looks more like the villagers around him. 

 

“Yes, but I don’t know where my land is, or where my people are,” she tells him. 

 

“That’s okay! It happened to me too! I still don’t know where my land is yet, but Mama says that I’ll find out when my people go there!”

 

“Who’s ‘mama’?” She asks curiously.

 

“This is Mama’s island! She takes care of everyone here until they leave! Come on, I’ll take you to her!” New Zealand stands up and holds his hand out for Hawai’I to take. She does and he helps her to her feet. 

 

The two walk for a while longer before he leads her into a hut. "Mama's in here," he says, ducking inside and gesturing for her to follow. Inside is a woman dressed like the other women in the village. She has long, dark hair and a wide nose. Hawai'i's eyes widen in adoration. 

 

"I am Anuata, the island of Tahiti," she introduces herself. "Do you have a name young one?" Hawai'i shakes her head 'no'.

 

"I do!" New Zealand exclaims. "My name is Tane, like the god of forests! Mama says she named me after the god because she found me in a forest!"

 

"Oh," Hawai'I says softly. "Will you give me a name too?" she asks Tahiti. The older nation nods, and begins to think. 

 

"I will name you Leilani," Tahiti says, reaching out to touch the flower in Hawai'i's hair.

 

“Your name was Tane? And you had a family?” England asks New Zealand, stopping the next scene from playing. Regret and guilt are  obvious on his face. 

 

“Yeah,” He says. “Actually Tane still is my name, but no one but the other Pacific Island nations call me that anymore. Not since you- yeah,” New Zealand says, obviously a bit uncomfortable now. Hawai’I puts an arm around him in comfort. 

 

“I’m sorry lad,” England says. “If I had known, I don’t think I would have taken you from them or given you a new name.”

 

“What’s done is done,” New Zealand says with a shrug. “It would have happened anyway, and you never treated me horribly, so I don’t hold it against you anymore.” That’s not to say that he didn’t once hate England from taking him from his family, but he grew to understand the situation and though he didn’t like it for quite some time, he didn’t hold it against the older nation. 

 

The scene shifts, showing older versions of Leilani and Tane. Except Leilani is older than Tane now, looking to be thirteen while Tane looks ten. They're standing at the edge of the water. Anuata approaches the two, hugging Leilani. 

 

"Goodbye Leilani. May the gods watch over you on your journey home," Leilani sniffles and hugs Anuata, burying her face in the other's chest. Anuata hugs her back, smiling proudly, tears in her eyes. 

 

"Goodbye Mama," Leilani says once their hug ends. After she says that, Tane tackles her in a hug. 

 

“I’ll miss you!” He cries out, tears building in his eyes.

 

“I’ll miss you too,” she says, hugging him. “You watch out for yourself, you little brat,” she teases, ruffling his hair. Her eyes are watering as well and her smile wavers. 

 

“I will. Be careful out there.”

 

“I trust my people. Some of them are already there, I have to go join them.” Once Hawai’i and New Zealand part, she goes to join her people and they set sail.  

 

“You have to visit Mama once this is all over,” New Zealand says to Hawai’i as the scene changes once more. 

 

A seventeen year old Hawai’i stands, still dressed in traditional clothing, in the Oval Office, glaring at both the president and personification before her. 

 

“This is illegal, you can’t just take my lands, you asshole!” She argues, arms crossed over her chest. “And Atto! You-! I trusted you!” She looks at him, betrayal in her eyes. 

 

“We can and we will,” the president argues with a raised eyebrow. “Your leader has already given in. It doesn’t matter what you say, the Hawaiian Islands are now US territory.” He turns to look at America. “Alfred, your records show that you’ve done this before, we don’t need multiple personifications for one country, get rid of her.”

 

Hawai’i’s eyes widen, looking at America with fear in them.

 

“No,” America protests, eyes wide and afraid. “She’s right, this-this is wrong. And- and I’m not going to kill her.”

 

“You’ve done it before,” the president argues smoothly. “Why is this time any different?”

 

“Because it’s wrong! And I’m not fighting for a unified country or to expand! And I never wanted to kill them anyway!” America storms from the room and Hawai’I, shocked at what’s she’s learned, follows after him.  

 

She finds him in a spare room, sobbing into his hands.

 

“What the hell was that?” She asks softly. The nation before her is younger than her in every way, and though his government just annexed her, he seems to be against it. 

 

“He- he wanted me to kill you,” America gasps out in-between his sobs. “I can’t - I can’t do that ever again. They made me kill- they made me-” he cuts himself off with his own sobs and he buries his head in his knees.

 

“Shh, Atto,” she soothes. “You don’t have to tell me now, okay?” 

 

America nods. “‘Lani? Can-can you call me Alfred? Please?” Hawai’I nods, confusion evident on her face, but she doesn’t press the issue. 

 

The screen goes black again. 

 

“Atto, you kept calling him Atto, why?” Finland asks, desperately confused. The other Nordics look confused as well, but also very sad. 

 

“It, it was my name for a while,” America answers. “I-I don’t remember who gave it to me or-or when. I-I don’t remember a lot from before England found me.”

 

“He had amnesia,” England speaks up. “Couldn’t remember a thing, I tried to use magic to see if I could bring the memories back but it hurt him, so I stopped.”

 

Finland nods, looking crestfallen. 

 

“I didn’t know your name had been Atto though.” England continues, addressing  America rather than the Nordics.

 

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted a new name,” he confesses. “But after the Revolution my bosses went back to calling me Atto, saying that I should cut ties with you… I’m sorry.” America’s lip wobbled slightly and his hands clenched at his sides. 

 

“It’s alright Alfred, I understand,” the Englishman answers, noticing America’s tell-tale signs of an impending breakdown and wanting to comfort him. “You go by Alfred now though, correct?” He asks, just to be sure. America nods and England relaxes.  

 

“What’s this about killing nations though?” Turkey asks with a predatory grin. “Golden boy ain’t so golden, huh?”

 

“Don’t remind me, don’t talk about it, don’t talk about it, just stop talking about it!” America finally snaps, shaking his head, covering his ears with his hands and putting his head between he knees as if to block everything out. Turkey, and a few other nations, look at him surprised. The breakdown England had tried to prevent earlier was coming to pass. 

 

Canada, faster than anyone else, is at America’s side, trying to coax him from his shell. North Mexico and Hawai’I aren’t that far behind. Together, the three talk America out of his near-panic attack. North covers America’s ears and Hawai’I rubs his back as Canada speaks.

 

“Don’t bring it up again. And don’t talk about his civil war or his western expansion or the Mexican-American war or the Louisiana Purchase. If any of you say anything that results in this kind of reaction I will hunt you down and skin you like a caribou, got it?” He warns, a dangerous aura radiating from him. The other nations, stunned at the pure anger and malicious intent radiating off of the normally quiet and peaceful nation, nod. 

 

“They’re likely going to show up so just save your questions for then, got it?” Hawai’I threatens. Let it be known that, though she jokes around about America and is upset with his government, she does not hate Alfred. And she is seriously protective over other people, often including Alfred. 

 

Canada turns back to America and North Mexico uncovers the American’s ears. 

 

After a few more minutes, everything’s calmed down and Sweden presses the play button again.   

Chapter Text

The scene was dark and silent for a moment before the cry of a baby broke the quiet. Two groans accompanied the noise before the sound of shuffling and the striking of a match is heard. The flame casts light onto what’s revealed to be a bedroom. Two figures are lying in a bed together.

“Mmmh, your turn aru,” the sleepy voice of China is heard.

The other occupant of the bed shifts, rolling over towards China. They practically roll on top of the Chinese nation, kissing his cheeks. China laughs, kissing them back before pushing the other nation off of the bed. The other falls with a grunt and a sigh.

“I told you, it’s your turn,” China says a bit cheekily.

“Sim, you did,” the voice of Portugal comes from the floor.

He stands, running a hand through his loose hair. He makes his way to a part of the room that the light doesn’t quite reach. China props himself up on the bed, watching his lover. Portugal lifts something, presumably the baby who’s cries woke the two of them, and walks back to the bed. He coos the the baby, talking to it in cheerful Portuguese and bouncing the baby lightly. Once Portugal sits back on the bed, the baby, who looks a bit familiar, reaches out and makes grabby hands towards China.

“Aww, Cheng wanted his mamãe,” Portugal coos, handing the baby over to China.

“I am a man, same as you João,” China says with a shake of his head, taking the baby and resting his head on China’s own shoulder.

“Yes, but you gave birth to him,” Portugal teases, making China blush. “That’s makes you his mother.”

“You would have if the positions were switched,” China comments under his breath, revealing the reason for his blush. Portugal chuckles and leans over to kiss China’s lips, a chaste kiss China returns.

The scene ends. China’s face is a bit pink after watching his intimate moments with Portugal being shared. Especially since their personal relationship was something they kept hidden for the last few centuries, the only other nations who know being England and Japan.

“Is,” Macau is the first to speak. “Is that me? The baby?” He asks, looking between Chin and Portugal. The two nations nod.

“It is,” China confirms verbally. He scans his son’s face for signs of disgust or any other reaction. Instead, Macau appears confused and upset.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t I know?” He asks, looking desperately at the two.

“We wanted you to know, growing up,” Portugal beginning. “But-“ he’s cut off by another scene beginning and falls silent.

Watch this before explaining. Text on the canvas screen reads before the scene plays.

This scene takes place in the daytime, on a dock in a Chinese shipyard. China is standing there, a child around the age of eighteen months at the oldest held to his chest and England standing next to him. This scene is not domestic bliss like the last, no. As the scene focuses, it becomes apparent that China is crying and England is comforting him.

“It’s too soon,” China’s heard saying, his voice hoarse from crying. “I can’t-“ he cuts himself off as more tears trail down his face. He buries his face in the baby’s hair.

“I know love,” England soothes, tears in his own eyes and an arm around the older nation. “If it was up to me, we’d have more time, but we need to leave for his safety. I don’t want their threats to be enforced.” He makes a sick face at the reminder of whatever the two have been threatened with.

“I know,” China takes a shuddering breath, kissing the baby’s forehead. “I know. It’s just so hard.”

“I’ll write to you,” England promises, taking the baby gently from China. The baby reaches out to China with a small whine, but after being situated in England’s arms, calms down a bit. “Every month. And I’ll send photographs.” He kisses China on the cheek, a gesture the other returns with a sad smile.

“Goodbye Arthur. Goodbye Jia Long,” he says sadly. The memory fades out.

Japan, sitting next to China, moves a bit closer to his brother in comfort.

“I hated the 1800s,” China says with a sniffle and wet laughter. “I really did.”

“That was me,” Hong Kong says a bit quietly, staring wide-eyed at China. The man nods.

“We, England, Portugal, and I, wanted you both to know,” China begins to explain to the two regions. “We would have loved nothing more than for you two to grow up knowing that we’re your parents. But we couldn’t. When João had to leave, he was ordered to take Cheng with him, same with Arthur and Jia Long. The first time, I protested and fought, I wanted to keep Cheng with me, you were so young, but older than Hong Kong was.” China looks to Macau as if remembering him as a child.

“João even agreed with me, he said that you should know both of us as your parents and stay with me until you were older. We knew, since you were technically Portuguese territory at the time, that you would eventually have to go to Portugal. They said no. They called you an abomination since you were born of two men. So, Cheng, they took you with them by force, and I let them, hoping João would explain things to you. It wasn’t until you were in Portugal and I had gotten a letter from João that I learned you wouldn’t be told we were your parents, on orders that couldn’t be fought against.”

China then turns to look at Hong Kong. “I think loosing you was almost worse, you were a lot younger, I barely had time with you. Arthur and I were willing to fight to keep you with me for a while longer. We weren’t even given a chance. Our rulers played the ‘abomination’ card again before saying that, if we didn’t give in, they’d set the city aflame and kill you.” China becomes visibly upset as he remembers this. There’s a tense silence for a while as everyone process the information given, then Hong Kong speaks up.

“Did you ever send those pictures?” Hong Kong asks England, shifting the subject. After learning that he was practically ripped away from China as an infant, Hong Kong feels like it would be a dick move if England went back on his word. England nods.

“Every month for a century. I showed them to Yao in person during the Second World War. But after that, communications between our countries became difficult. For us, anyway,” England answers, and Hong Kong nods. At least England wasn’t a total dick during his buccaneer days.

The rest of the nations are horrified at what they’ve learned. Within the span of a hundred years, China had birthed and lost two sons. The Chinese emperor and English nobility threatened to set fire to and murder an infant personification - something that definitely would have killed Hong Kong at the time.

“That’s pretty fucked up,” Romano comments what everyone else is thinking.

“Tell me about it,” Hong Kong replies dryly. “How do you think we feel?” He asks rhetorically, motioning between him and Macau.

Chapter Text

The room is enveloped in a tense silence. The family obviously has things to work out, but that wasn't going to happen here in front of several others. So, Sweden presses play. 

 

The scene opens up in a village. Norway, Denmark, Sweden, and Finland are walking through the village, and it appears that Norway is leading them somewhere. 

 

"There's so many trees!" Denmark exclaims, looking at the vast natural wealth around him. Norway nods in agreement. 

 

"Isn't it a bit far from your country?" Finland muses, talking to Norway as well.

 

"Yes," Norway acknowledges, a small look of regret on his face. The rest of the short trip is silent until the group of Nordics arrive at a hut a bit removed from the rest of the village. 

 

"Faðir!" Two small colonies exclaim the moment Norway steps into the hut. 

 

One is a girl with dark hair and skin, but she has dark purple eyes. She looks to be about the physical age of four or so. The other is a familiar boy with light blonde hair, pale skin, and light purple eyes. He looks to be around two or three, not very old at all. The two hug him, latching onto his legs and waist. Iceland appears into view as well. Norway hugs the older dark-haired girl and picks up the younger blonde boy, giving a small smile to Iceland. 

 

"So you've found another personification," Sweden comments, eyes on the boy Norway is holding. 

 

"No, I didn't find him," Norway says simply. A look of realization crosses Denmark, Sweden, and Finland's faces. 

 

"Again?" Denmark remarks, and Norway nods absently. "Norge you know-"

 

"Yes," Norway cuts his brother off. "I know but I can't help it. I didn't ask for this, for him, but I don't regret a single moment." The child yawns, relaxing into Norway's hold in a move that makes the tension in Norway's frame melt away. He kisses the top of his child's head, adjusting his hold slightly as he lets the other fall asleep on him. 

 

"Uncle Denmark!" The little girl says, catching the Viking's attention. "Come see what Faðir taught me!" The colony grabs Denmark's hand and pulls him out of the hut, eager to show him what Norway had been teaching her recently. 

 

"Norge, you can't put this off," Sweden reminds his brother, almost chastising him. Norway sighs and shifts the boy in his arms. 

 

The scene shifts, they were in the same hut, but the lighting had changed, it was darker outside now. The nations are still in the hut, but now it's just Norway, Sweden, and Finland. 

 

"Nor-Lukas," Sweden says. "You have to return to Europe soon, with us." There's no room for argument in his tone. 

 

"I know, but I can't leave him," Norway begins to get emotional. "They'll kill him. The natives. If I leave, it'll kill Vinland, he'll die." Tears start to build in Norway's eyes in a seemingly uncharacteristic way.

 

"If he's truly that weak, then it would have happened anyway," Denmark says, walking in. "Greenland went with Ice." He adds by way of explanation for a question not asked. Tears  begin to escape Norway due to Denmark's words. Finland, previously standing a bit behind Sweden, rushes forward to hug the other Nordic. 

 

"Mathias, that's harsh," Sweden says with a frown towards his brother. 

 

"Its true," Norway admits between tears, separating from Finland. "I know its true."

 

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?" Denmark asks suddenly. "I bet you knew from the start that you'd loose the child!" He accuses. 

 

"Denmark!" Finland gasps. 

 

"Of course I did!" Norway rages, angry now. "Of course I knew that eventually I'd loose him! I could feel it the moment I felt him! But you know what, Denmark? I don't regret having him one bit!" Norway wipes the tears from his face and storms from the cabin, pushing past the other Nordics in search of his colonies. 

 

"Way to go, Denmark," Sweden mutters. 

 

"You never were the same," Denmark says quietly, looking at Norway. "After what happened. You don't smile as much as you used to, lille bror." 

 

"I had no reason to," Norway answers, voice tight. "I brought a child into this world only to send him to his death. I shouldn't be able to smile after that."

 

"You still had Lolan, Duncan, Angus, Garði, Frøydis, Emil, and Amâlia, to smile for," Finland reminds him softly.  But, both Norway and Iceland shake their heads.

 

"I had to be strong for them," Norway corrects. "If I tried to smile, I would cry, and I couldn't cry in front of them, not when they needed me." 

 

"Aye, I remember how worried Lolan and Angus were about ye," Scotland speaks up, making Denmark wince. "Those boys kept telling me how much it would break ye to loose anyone else. And they missed ye something terrible, kept begging to go back. And it started all over again when Duncan and Garthe arrived."

 

A soft look comes over Norway's face, not quite a smile, but not his usual neutral face either. "You took better care of them than I could at the time," Norway admits.

 

Scotland falls silent, wanting to deny it, but knowing that Norway wasn't exactly in the best states of mind to be taking care of all of his colonies when Scotland obtained Isle of Man and Hebrides in 1266 and Orkney and Shetland in 1472. 

 

The other Nordics fall silent as well, likely remembering that time. Denmark looks especially guilty, as he was part of the cause for Norway's state of mind during the Union. He and his King Christian I were also the reason behind Scotland obtaining islands Orkney and Shetland. 

 

"Let's just... move on," Norway says finally.

 

Once more, the scene shifts. Norway is in the forest outside of the colony, looking for something or someone. In a last ditch effort, he sinks to his knees in the snow. 

 

"I know you're out here, and I mean you no harm. Please, I only wish to talk!" Norway calls out, using visible tendrils of magic to reach out to the hidden personification. He waits for a few moments more before the native woman appears from the trees. She sits cross-legged in the snow across from him and speaks before he can. The woman is Native North America. 

 

"What is it you ask from me?" She asks him, her voice regal.

 

"My child, my son, he's the personification of the colony my people have built. He is dying and I fear that neither my people nor I cannot remain here much longer." Norway responds, tears pricking his eyes. 

 

"You blame me for his state." The Ancient says.

 

"No!" Norway argues. "It would have happened anyway. I am not strong in the same sense my brothers are, and I already have other colonies. I knew from the start that eventually, he would die. I just tried to convince myself that he wouldn't." 

 

"Then why trouble yourself with him?" She asks, not unkindly. 

 

"I love him," Norway admits proudly. "He is my son, and from the moment I felt him, I loved him. That's why I am here. I can perform magic and there is a spell I can do that should allow him to live after Vinland is destroyed. It will use up the magic he possess and there's no guarantee that it will work, but if it does, will you look after him?"

 

"You want me to raise your child when you leave?" The native personification asks. 

 

Norway nods. "Please, I beg of you." 

 

Native North America closes her eyes and breathes deeply for a few moments. "Vinland is doomed to perish," she says after a minute. "Perform your spell, but if you do not return within a decade, Vinland will be lost forever." She stands and leaves, returning into the forest.

 

For the last time, the scene changes.  This time, the Nordics and two colonies are at a dock near the village. Finland, Denmark, and Sweden already stand on the ship. Iceland and Greenland hug Vinland before going onto the ship themselves. 

 

Norway kneels down in front of the boy. "Baldr, min sønn," he says, tears brimming in his eyes. "I love you, never forget that."

 

"Faðir," The young colony whimpers. "Don't leave me Faðir, please!" 

 

"I'm sorry," Norway tears up, hugging his son close to his chest. "I'm so, so sorry Baldr. I wish I could stay." He pulls away, kissing Baldr on the head. "I promise, I'll come back. I'll come back."

 

The child begins to cry as well, and Norway picks him up one last time. He carries his distressed son back to the cabin.

 

"I love you Baldr," Norway whispers, pressing a kiss to the boy's temple before whispering a spell to put the distressed colony to sleep. He lays Baldr on his bed, covering him before briskly leaving the cabin. 

 

Tears streaming down his face, Norway boards the ship that will take him and the others back to Europe. Then, the screen goes black. 

 

Several countries, especially those who have had children or colonies, visibly saddened or in tears. There was no need for Norway to explain himself further as it had already been shown.

 

"Who were they?" Ukraine asks, sniffling. "The colonies."

 

"The girl is Greenland," Norway says, wiping his own tears. "But the boy, Baldr, was Vinland."

 

"You were never the same after he died," Finland remembers sadly. "You and Ice both became so closed off."

 

Canada, tears streaming down his face, tries to speak up and say something, but England talks over him by accident. 

 

"What happened to him?"

 

"We never made it back," Norway confesses. "Over the next century, I did all I could to get back to Vinland but," he pauses, obviously trying to reign in his emotions. "But I couldn't. The maps were too poorly drawn and suffered too much water damage. Storms fought us every time we tried to set out. Eventually I had to give up." 

 

America however, notices his brother's state. Sitting next to him, America has an arm around Canada, trying to comfort him. Remembering what Aztec said about removing masks, he speaks up. 

 

"Hey uh, Norway?" He gets the Nordic nation's attention. Once it's on him, America points to Canada, who, once pointed out, becomes a lot more obvious. 

 

The Canadian is still sobbing, but his glasses are now removed and he seems a lot more vulnerable. It's familiar, and when Canada looks up at him from his curled up position,  Norway realizes why. 

 

"I'm  - you're - Faðir," Canada manages between his sobs, unable to form a proper sentence. Norway, sitting on the couch, slides off and drops to his knees. Canada is sitting an arm's length away from him. America removes his arm from Canada's shoulders, putting his brother's glasses on the coffee table and scooting away a bit so the two can have their moment.

 

"Baldr," Norway makes out the meaning behind the jumbled words. "I don't understand, how?" What Norway wants to say is caught in his throat. 'How did you survive?' 'How have I not recognized you?' His eyes brim with emotion. 

 

"The Great Mother, she, she placed a spell on me, that I wouldn't remember you until you came back for me. I think she wanted to spare me the devastation," Canada says through tears. "It was after the First World War, when I became independent, that I met you again and remembered. But, but you didn't remember me." Canada breaks into even more tears and Norway can't help but pull his son to his chest and comfort him. "I thought you didn't want me anymore."

 

"I'm so, so, sorry," Norway apologizes, voice thick with emotion. "The first time we met, I was sure you were a different person. Those who inherit the land of the personification before them often look somewhat like their predecessor, so I believed that was the case. "

 

"It was another spell," America speaks up quietly, causing the two, and many others, to look at him. "The Great Mother told me about it. She placed another spell on you that would make it so that no one who would meet you would remember you clearly but the your father. That's how it was supposed to be anyway, so that he could remove it. I think the spell was really keyed into the first European to come, and that was Francis."

 

"Which would explain why he never forgets," Canada says in his usual, quiet tone of voice. 

 

"I'm so, so, sorry I couldn't get back to you," Norway apologizes again.

 

"I forgive you," Canada says, hugging Norway, "Faðir."  

 

The surrounding nations are respectful and let the two have their moment together.

 

 

Chapter Text

After a few minutes, Norway settles into a seated position on the floor next to Canada and Brazil takes the vacated spot.

"Sverige, if you please," Norway asks Sweden to hit the play button. The quiet giant nods and plays the next scene.

The scene opens in an ornate chapel, and it's obvious from the start that a royal wedding is taking place in the chapel. As the faces of the two humans become clearer, the reason behind why this particular wedding is being shown becomes even more obvious. This is the wedding of Philip of Hapsburg, later known as Philip the Handsome or Philip I of Castile and Joanna of Castile, later known as Joanna the Mad.

"20 October 1496" Austria whispers, knowing the date well. [1]

The ceremony speeds by at an unnatural pace, and the focus of the memory is shifted to the two young adult males who had been watching from the shadows. The younger personifications of Austria and Spain come into focus, standing but an arm's length away from each other as they watch the proceedings.

"It seems we'll be under the same house once again," Spain observes quietly as the wedding ceremony ends. He's referring to the time when they were both Roman territory, though they never interacted much at all. Austria gives a small nod of acknowledgement, saying nothing. Spain turns to look at his silent companion and notices him paler than he was before, his fingers tightly clutching the long sleeves of his era-fashionable clothing. "Nervous?"

Austria looks at him this time, giving him a hesitant nod. They both know what's awaiting them the moment the crowd leaves the chapel. After all, Philip and Joanna are not the only two getting married tonight.

"There's no need to be," Spain assures quietly. He looks as if he wants to say more, but he stops himself.

Silence falls over the pair until a new man, a different priest than the one that officiated the royal wedding, approaches them. By now, everyone else has left the room. The priest leads Austria and Spain to the altar and begins performing their union. It is mostly formality, with the priest speaking on and on, though only one thing stands out - the consummation of their union is forbidden.

Not long after revealing this, the two are presented with rings displaying the Hapsburg family crest. Austria is to go first, taking the ring and silently sliding it onto Spain's finger. Spain goes next, copying the movement. Then the two nations are presented with a document not unlike a marriage certificate, and sign it. As they're doing so, the screen fades to black.

"'Forbidden' huh?" Prussia says with a snicker. "Gee, you really stuck to that one, huh Specs?" Austria's face colors and a few nations look in curiously amusement.

"Whoah, wasn't homosexuality like illegal back then? Especially like, in Europe?" America asks a bit cluelessly.

"Not necessarily," England answers. "If I remember correctly it wasn't condemned until it was made illegal in the eighteen hundreds." [2a]

"It was rather taboo before then though," Portugal adds. "Especially compared to today's standards."

"It was outlawed in Rome for a while," Veneziano adds in after a little.

“Not like the stupid church cared when St. Aelred was alive,” Romano mutters. [2b]

"Oh," America says with a nod. From the looks on the faces of several Western Hemisphere and other younger Nations, they were pretty in the dark too.

After another bout of silence, the next scene begins to play.

There's a knocking on Austria's door, and he sighs as if he's been expecting it.

"Come in Eliza," he answers softly, folding the item of clothing in his arms and putting it away in a chest of drawers.

The door is pushed open quietly, but the person Austria turns to face isn't Hungary. "Guess again, mi rey," the Spanish-accented voice says teasingly.

"Anton!" Austria exclaims in surprise, a small smile showing on his face. "I didn't think you were due back for another two weeks!"

"There were some issues, so we had to leave early," Spain replies, stepping further into the room and closer to his husband. "And I missed you," he says with a grin, opening his arms to hug the other nation. Austria complies, hugging Spain back.

"I missed you as well," Austria murmurs into the Spaniard's shoulder.

After a few moments they part, but Spain slips a finger under Austria's chin, tilting his head up. Spain smiles softly and presses a lingering kiss to Austria's forehead, something that makes the aristocratic nation blush a little.

Whatever sweet moment they're having or about to have is interrupted by half a dozen small children running into the room, a breathless and infant-bearing Hungary following after them. Apologies tumble from her lips, but Spain and Austria dismiss them.

"Hola hijos!" Spain greets with a wide smile as the six of the seven young children hug him. Off to the side, Austria quietly takes the small colony from Hungary's arms, holding her with ease.

"Did you bring back our new siblings?!"

"Where are they?!"

"Can we meet them?!"

The questions are fired at a rapid pace that only serves to amuse Spain. He ruffles the hair of Italy Veneziano, the closest child to him, and smiles.

"They've had a long journey chicos, let them rest and you can meet them tomorrow." Reluctantly, the children obey Spain and leave the room. On her way out, Hungary takes the young child from Austria, and follows the children, giving the couple a playful wink before closing the door behind her. [3]

"Now where were we?" Spain says rather suggestively, pulling Austria back into his arms and kissing his lips. The kiss is chaste, but both nations pull away smiling.

"We were going to bed, Anton," Austria decides, putting a hand on Spain's chest to create a bit of distance, a hint of a grin still on his face. The Spaniard pouts playfully.

"Amorrrrr," he drags the word out.

"You had a long journey schatz, rest," Austria implores, not moving out of Spain's hold. Spain pretends to consider the request.

"Only if you join me," he decides. Austria shakes his head with a small but fond smile.

"Alright," comes Austria's answer. Spain smiles victoriously and steals a kiss from his husband before releasing him. Austria just steps closer to Spain for a proper kiss. The scene ends.

There's a couple "awws" from those watching, the most notable being from North Italy Hungary, Venezuela, and Liechtenstein. Austria's face is on fire, and Spain keeps looking at him out of the corner of his eye, a longing look on his face.

"I remember that!" Hungary says with a wide grin. "You all were so little back then!"

"Emilio and Isabella were so tiny!" Ecuador says with a laugh.

"And Carlos and Sandía!" South Mexico exclaims.

"I forgot she came over as a baby," North Mexico says. "She was so tiny and sickly until St. Augustine was finally established." [4]

"She never got much better," Venezuela remembers with a frown.

"¡Sí!" Spain says with a smile, though it seems a bit forced. "You were all so cute!"

"Not to be like, horribly insensitive or anything, but didn't the Conquistadors do terrible things in Latin America? Why were you guys all buddy-buddy with Spain?" America asks, confused.

"Sí," Spain says with a frown. "I did not approve of some of the things they did, especially to los niños." The Mexico twins look visibly uncomfortable and Austria, sitting nearby by chance, reaches a hand out to South Mexico, the sister, in comfort. She takes it and squeezes it tightly. [5]

"Papá was good to us," Venezuela says quietly, with the Mexicos and Ecuador nodding in agreement.

"Roddy, I never knew you were so affectionate!" Prussia speaks up teasingly, shifting the subject. The Austrian flushes again.

"Hush you," he tries to say sternly, but his embarrassed blush kind of ruins the affect.

"Don't be embarrassed! I think it's cute!" Hungary says, laughing a bit.

"Not. Helpful," the Austrian says through gritted teeth.

"He and Antonio were sickening," Italy Romano says, making a face.

"Ve~ Fratello! That's not nice!" Italy Veneziano says with a frown. "I liked it when Papa Austria and Papa Spain were together!"

Romano, North Mexico, Ecuador, Venezuela, South Mexico, and Veneziano's eyes all widen at the Italian's mistake. He clamps his hands over his mouth and the others stare at him in shock. Spain and Austria freeze. Every other nation in the room appears to hold their breath. No one seems to know what to do.

"I'm sorry," Veneziano says quietly. "I didn't mean to..." He looks ready to cry genuine tears.

"It's-It's fine," Austria says, swallowing thickly. "It's fine Fe-Veneziano."

"Sí... no harm done Feli," Spain says, smiling in that sad sort of way.

"You smiled," Germany says, changing the subject and looking to Austria in surprise. In the time he's been alive, he only remembers Austria smiling very few times.

"Ve~ Pa- I mean Mr. Austria used to smile a lot!" North Italy speaks up again, his smile seeming brighter than usual. "But then he stopped," his smile looses it's brightness.

Austria, Spain, and everyone else remain silent and a new scene starts playing.

"I don't want this," the voice of Spain is heard as the scene focuses. He and Austria lie together in bed, Spain's head resting on Austria's chest. Austria nods, running his fingers through Spain's chocolate curls.

"We have no choice in this matter," Austria says, his voice holding regret and an emotion none but Spain can identify. "It is the end of our time together schatz."

Austria's words are strained, the Germanic nation holding back emotion threatening to break through. Both of them dread what is to come, and it is obvious on their faces.

"We are cursed," Spain says quietly, still leaning into Austria. "We were given this opportunity to live a life together, to raise children together, to do what human couples like ours cannot. And now it is being taken from us."

"Cursed as we may be," Austria says, taking Spain's face in his hands hand thereby forcing the other to look up at him. "I wouldn't change a single moment of these past centuries. I love you and the life we had together."

Spain leans up to kiss him gently before laying back down. The soon-to-be-parted spouses say no more to each other as they lay together. With a sigh, Spain drapes an arm over Austria's waist and Austria drops his head down to be nearly level with Spain's, his nose buried in his husband's hair. Austria kisses Spain's head reverently, his hand dropping to lay on the other side of Spain. With one last kiss from Spain to Austria's jaw, the two eventually drift off to sleep.

The next morning the two empires, as well as the colonies and wards living under them, meet together for the official divorce. With heavy hearts, Spain and Austria signed the papers and removed their gold rings. Austria took his ring and slipped it on the cross necklace given to him by Spain at the start of their marriage. Spain merely slides the ring from his left ring finger to his left pointer finger. Then, after the official took their papers and left the room, the witnesses, quiet and reverent before, came to life.

With a cry, Italy Veneziano launched himself at Spain, switching between calling him 'Papa Spain' and 'Big Brother Spain' in his tearful goodbye. Austria meanwhile found himself surrounded with the New World colonies. A sniffling Venezuela latches to him tightly and even Italy Romano says his farewell. Spain also ruffles Holy Rome's hair, gaining a quick hug from the child. Hungary, not one to be left out, hugs Spain as well.

"Look after Rodrigo, por favor," Spain requests of her while they hug.

"Of course," Hungary promises almost immediately. After they part, she also receives many hugs from the young colonies, having taken on the role of maid and third caretaker for the many children.

During this, Spain seeks out Austria, pulling his now ex-husband into a firm hug. Through the hug is unexpected, Austria returns it, gripping the other nation tightly. Neither say anything, basking in their silent goodbye. When they part, Spain tilts Austria's chin up for a chaste kiss.

"Ich liebe dich," the Spaniard murmurs to the other.

"Te amo," Austria replies fondly, tears beginning to brim in his eyes. "Auf weidersehen schatz," he says softly.

"Adiós Cariño," Spain returns the farewell, his tone equally as soft.

From there, the two empires and their charges part ways, leaving through separate doors. Several Spanish territories leave the room in tears, and South Mexico and Haiti allow themselves to be carried out by Spain, something they haven't let their caretaker and father do in decades. Austria picks up a crying Veneziano on his way out, trying to keep his own tears at bay as well. [6]

No one has anything to say, but the other countries are looking back and forth between the two Hapsburg nations. Finally, the tense silence becomes unbearable.

"Schweden, could you play the next clip?" Austria asks finally, only for the next clip not to play.

"It's seven o'clock," France says, looking at his watch. A heavy silence settles over the room.

"Who wants to cook?" Cyprus asks after the pause.

"I will, aru," China volunteers, getting up from his seat.

"We'll help," Macau volunteers, grabbing Hong Kong and Taiwan by their elbows and encouraging them to stand too. Together, the three Chinese follow China into the kitchen.