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A Nation's Salvation	By : eternalstarhaven Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 2145 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Hetallia: Axis Powers does not belong to me, but to Hidekaz Himaruya, while the idea behind the story is my own. I do not make a profit or money by writing this. I also have this story posted on fanfiction.net under the same penname.

Chapter List
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Prussia's Resolve
Chapter One
Atlantis hovered beneath his war ship, wanting to go to him. His eyes would occasionally scan the water, sensing that she was close, but she never surfaced. As much as he wanted to protect her, she had known the danger to them. Too often they had thought her asleep, and when she woke from a nightmare, she over heard their conversations, discussing how best to keep her out of her enemy's grasp. What they didn't understand was that if this enemy was so powerful to take on the ancients, then they were just mere play things and easily swept aside. She couldn't allow them to die for her.
She lived her life in fear, trying to regain what she had lost. It was that fear that angered her, and she had tried to face it, but to no avail. The Vikings looked to her as if she were some kind of hero, but she didn't feel like one, nor did she deserve their devotion or sacrifices. Turning away, she drifted towards the heart of the Norwegian Sea and into the Barents, struggling to relearn the ocean currents and landmarks that were unknown to the world above.
Atlantis missed them, even the youngest addition to their family, and she knew they were angry at never having met their missing brothers. They felt betrayed, lied to, and the ancients had so much to answer for, despite having long since passed. According to them, she was one of two that remained, and they had no idea how to help in her task. The closest to being an ancient himself was Finland, but he was nothing like his war like brothers, often leaving the fights to them while he took care of Finland and the homeland.
Sweden and the others were always on guard around her, and it was the fear of losing them that had driven her back to the open ocean. The world might have forgotten, thinking the lost cities a myth, but one look at her and they'd know the truth. She couldn't hide her appearance, nor could she explain away a lot of her abilities. The few memories that she had possessed had completely shattered at the passing of her brother. She had felt it, the pouring in of power that was so familiar that she had screamed in pure agony. The loss had driven her to the edges of her sanity and if they knew, they'd never forgive her brother or the ones that had placed her in such a predicament. The last year with them, each brother had tried to comfort her in their own ways, Finland the easiest to get along with. He'd often hold and rock her to sleep, never once complaining about her storm of tears.
The violent tempered Sweden and Denmark were perhaps her favorites, rough around the edges, but sincere with their intentions and emotions. They rarely let anyone close to them, but with her, they never hesitated to show her how they felt. Sweden's eyes were like the sea, almost turquoise in color, and she had never once shied away from his need to battle or roam the open waters for a new adventure or fight.
Everywhere that he had gone, if he could do so, he had taken her with him. Sweden never said or showed it, but he was always afraid that if he left her behind he'd lose her. He hadn't been wrong, but the enemy wasn't the one that had taken her from him; it had been herself. Only, it hadn't been her being left behind that had made her decision. The day the French had repelled one of his invasions, sinking ship after ship, killing most of his raiders; Finland had almost failed to get her out of the thick of it. It was that battle that had made her choice all the easier. If Sweden and Finland hadn't been focused on her, they might have had a very different outcome. If he hated her, he never once mentioned it.
Sweden was hurting, and he wouldn't have cared if she had stayed, nor would he have blamed her for his faulty decisions. She had no idea when or how it had happened, but she loved all five of the Scandinavian brothers, and it was because of that love that she had left them behind. Why would she risk the loss of the people that she cared for; she wanted to save them just as they would her. Atlantis knew that she wasn't like the other land nations, but something of the water itself. Every time he regarded her, their was anger and sadness in his gaze, but never directed towards her. It had taken her time to understand that, his actions always gentle and kind with her, teaching her the way of the sword and combat when it went against his very laws. The other warriors had protested, but not his brothers, always backing his decisions. They refused to explain their reasons, only that she had a task the gods had given to her, and she could not succeed unless they gave the tools to complete it.
At first the sword and shield had felt awkward, her foot movements even more so, but she had learned. That had seemed like a life time ago; in this world, surrounded with the water, and cut off from the surface, she existed entirely alone. She'd always know where they were, so long as they kept the magical arm bands she had gifted to them. If they needed her, she'd never fail to answer. The one place that made her uneasy were the coastal waters of Spain and Italy, her heart pounding heavily against her chest each time she ventured to close. She knew she had to face the fear, the smell of death that seemed to bombard her senses, but for now she simply kept to the northern hemisphere.
As she learned the oceanic highways, she moved from one land to another, always ensuring to maintain the balance of her world. She wasn't even sure how she knew what to do, only that it was a part of her somehow. There wasn't an animal in the sea that she couldn't communicate with, and at times and image of her brother would appear in her mind, and then flicker away like a fragmented piece of glass. Who had he been to her? Who was she? Why had he gone away? Where were the others like her and why was she covered in scars? Why was she a child? She knew she had once been fully grown and extremely powerful, but now she was only a shell of what she had been.
To make things easier for the Scandinavian brothers, she remained unseen from the world, allowing them to forget. Only the Vikings remembered her, keeping her secret within their local legends and stories, never allowing them to be written or drawn. Anyone that broke their laws were instantly executed and their belongings burned beyond recognition; there was no forgiveness or mercy for them.
As she moved closer to Russia, she paused, a feeling washing over her. It wasn't one of the brothers, but someone else. It felt familiar, and yet as she reached for the memory it wouldn't come to her. Her heart pounded, and her head hurt, a hand reaching for her throat as if they were real, but when she looked around, she saw nothing. Why couldn't she breathe... terrified and confused, she quickly rose to the surface, latching onto a floating iceberg, struggling to understand what was happening to her and why. If she had her full form, her past, would she understand? Closing her eyes, she concentrated, searching for what couldn't be seen, following the link connected to her. Whatever it was, it was very real and deadly, but not towards her. Diving back into the water, she quickly made her way closer and closer to the Russian territory, risking everything to discover the source of the pain and the individual attacking it. Was it a creature of the water? The Earth? Humans were never supposed to see her, but she couldn't turn away. Entering and moving through the cold rivers, she finally found him, a young and pale haired nation floating through the ice. He was banging at the ice above him, trying to break free, but it was his eyes that captured her attention. They were of the water, not the land he had fallen from; why did he have legs instead of a tail?
Suddenly strands of his hair turned blue and red, flecks of blue appearing in his eyes. She instantly knew him, a brief memory flooding to the surface. The memory was of someone that had meant everything to her, and it only served to remind Atlantis of how alone she truly was now. Perhaps she wasn't the last of her kind any longer... this young nation was of the land and water, a half-breed. Making up her mind, she decided to save and protect this nation, sensing the link between them despite not fully understanding the past she had come from.
Prussia slammed a foot against the larger nation's chest, turning over and running for his life. It wasn't his fault that his people always wanted to attack the older boy, his poor country and harsh climates making it simple... until now. His lungs still hurt from where the boy had wrapped his strong fingers around his throat, and if he managed to get a hold of him again, there wasn't a guarantee he'd walk away alive or in one piece.
Russia had snapped, a rage so intense that Prussia had instantly dropped any idea of conquering the young nation. It was stupid anyway. The place was nothing but ice... the lakes, the rivers, even the mountains, and the temperatures rarely rose above acceptable levels, even in the warmest temperatures. In the winters... he didn't even want to think about it, his white cape flapping behind him as he dodged from one tree to another.
He was only four hundred years old, the older nation chasing him, twice that. However, when it came to the nation personifications, age was often a vulnerability, and if another nation didn't try to occupy them, they often destroyed the personification, enslaved the inhabitants, and absorbed the territory into their own. The Italian brothers were one of the luckier nations, divided and taken in by Austria and Spain. He knew there had been discussion on killing them or not, but it was decided that they'd live, so long as they served the empires that had control over their territories.
Prussia stumbled over a large snow drift, barely missing the swing of Russia's fist, a whimper of terror escaping his lips despite his best efforts to remain brave. Who the hell was he kidding? he thought. If he didn't somehow shake Russia off his tail, he wasn't going to make it back to his country, or awaiting military forces. One minute he had had Russia pinned to the ground, a sword pressed against his throat, and then the boy had somehow tossed him off as if he had weighed nothing, an insane glint flashing in his normally fearful ones.
Russia knew this land like the back of his hand, and he knew that Prussia had no way of out running him. Herding him to a snow covered lake, he watched as he dashed across the surface, the audible sound of cracking reaching their ears. Prussia froze, glancing over his shoulder to see a smirking Russian at the edge, no longer following him. Glancing down at his feet, he tried to understand what his mistake had been, the taller boy kneeling and brushing aside the snow. "The snow... it's like a blanket on ice, da?"
Prussia still didn't understand, but when Russia touched the ice and brought it back up, he noted a hint of moisture on his gloved hand. He had been afraid before, but now he was beyond terrified, looking for anything that he could use to hold on to... He considered begging, but Russia didn't look like he was in a forgiving mood, not after everything the other nations had put him through. "All I wanted was friends, da? Everyone always tries to hurt me... even the animals laugh and make fun of Russia."
Russia continued to push the snow aside, and with a heavy strike, he slammed his palm against the surface, watching as several cracks formed and began to spread. Prussia was too scared to run, to scared to stay, and he watched in growing horror as the cracks continued towards him, regardless of the snow that hid them. "I will take your country, make it one with mine... da?"
Over his dead body... but that wasn't such a hard task at the moment, and with a cry, the cracks finally reached his feet and he fell through, the hole quickly closing above him. He slammed his fists against the surface, trying to break free, but it was hopeless, the impact not as powerful as if he had been on top.
Russia understood the snow, the ice, the weather. It had become his personal playground, and anyone that wanted to come and try to take what was his... well... they'd soon find out just as Prussia did, his red eyes glaring back at him from beneath his icy tomb. It didn't matter if he'd live or not, only that he'd take his country while he remained imprisoned. He didn't want to claim his people... he'd simply destroy them, and this annoying nation along with them. Who'd miss him? He was still so young, that he had yet to make a real name for himself, and the moment Russia conquered him, his name wouldn't even find itself in the book of legends or myths like Atlantis or Scandinavia.
Prussia watched with growing dismay as Russia turned and walked away, the older boy no longer afraid of the powerful boy or his army. Without their personification to lead them, they were vulnerable to attack, and he saw no way out of this prison. Terrified and alone, he felt his limbs begin to shut down, the pain so overwhelming that he cried, uncaring if anyone might think of him as weak. It was the soft touch that alerted him to something beneath the water, and he tried to turn his head, but found it also frozen in place.
Humans feared the water, even when they used their boats to go from one land mass to another. Once they fell in, they often didn't come back up. Closing his eyes, he waited for the attack of some unknown monster, to feel teeth ripping into his pale flesh... and yet, something soft moved to his neck, and then to his cheeks. Eyes flashing open, he could only stare into what he thought of as the most amazing eyes he had ever encountered, a kaleidoscope of colors that mirrored a perfect rainbow. Black hair floated around her like a halo, similar colored stripes scattered throughout her long strands.
She was so achingly beautiful that he felt that he had no right to look at her, but she was the only other living creature beneath the ice with him, her expression filled with sadness. What was she? Why was she beneath the icy rivers and lakes of Russia? And how was he even still conscious? Shouldn't he have lost his ability to breathe? And yet he felt the steady rise and fall of his chest as if he were on the surface? Was he some kind of demon? He had no idea, but he certainly didn't care... The fear of dying had him over riding those questions, and he regarded her with a mixture of hope and curiosity.
Studying her closer, he noted that her long hair covered most of her front, and for that he was grateful. Apparently she didn't believe in clothes, and he tried to avoid the parts that would probably damn him forever, and that's when he saw it, the tail that slowly weaved back and forth behind her. He had either passed on after all, or all the stories he had heard of the water nations were true.
Mermaids were a thing of fairy tales, something he had only heard from his mother when he was child. However, just as he started to take his first steps, she had vanished, leaving him alone in a violent world that threatened to consume him at any given moment. He had learned to fight at an early age; what choices did he have? He blinked, his body almost completely useless at this point, and he found he was still crying, and wanted to wipe the offending liquid aside.
Very gently, she brushed them aside, moving closer until their noses nearly touched. Eyes wide, he had no idea how to ask what she was doing when she covered his lips with her own. Prussia wanted to push her back, to demand that she stop, but then he calmed, sensing a warm sensation flowing into him. This wasn't exactly what he thought of as a kiss, but something far more precious... she was giving him power, and with it, the ability to think and move without the former pain that had incapacitated him so thoroughly.
As she continued to share her life energy, they began to move, her tail pushing them further and further away from the heart of Russia and towards the icy waters of the Arctic Ocean. Like himself, she appeared as a child, but when he stared into her odd colored eyes, he knew that she was perhaps older than any nation he had ever encountered. Rising to the surface, he welcomed the warm feel of the sun's rays on his white skin, and mourned the loss of her power as she pulled back and gave him the space that he thought he had wanted. "Are you okay?" She quietly asked, her voice like a soft compulsion to answer.
"Exhausted, but I can fix that with a good night's sleep." Nodding, she glanced towards the shore, trying to decide if she should take him the rest of the way, or if he'd manage on his own. Thinking for a moment, she tried to figure out how best to handle him. If she simply dropped him off, he risked an attack from another nation, and he needed time to recover from his recent fight with Russia. He also needed a strong presence backing him and she couldn't think of anyone better than her adoptive brother Sweden. Everyone feared him, to include the nation that had nearly killed Prussia. She touched the blue-red strands in his hair, a flicker of awareness flashing in her eyes. She knew him... and just as quickly, she pushed the painful memories to the back of her mind.
It had taken a long time for the brothers to help her through her nightmares. They still hadn't gone away, but the memories of their comforting embraces made it easier. In time, she simply pushed aside what she didn't want to remember. Turning, she waited for him to wrap his arms around her neck before setting off. Instead of taking him back to the northern part of Prussia or Poland, she made her way towards the heart of Scandinavia territory. He wanted to say something, but just as he started to, he saw the huge war vessels and started to shake. Was she crazy? These guys were notorious for attacking the coast lines of other nations, taking what they wanted, and killing anyone that was insane enough to resist.
And yet, he trusted her. Why would she have gone through the trouble of saving him to only hand him over to the Vikings knowing they'd kill him? Several shouts rang out from ship to ship, horns sounding, and he tightened his arms around her neck, red eyes wild with fear. What if he was wrong? He might have only escaped Russia's death sentence to land directly into another one. The vessels made a large, circular formation around them, some of the occupants pointing towards them. A blond headed Viking peered down, his blue eyes going wide, and a hint of a smile forming at the edges of his mouth. Shouting an order, a rope was tossed down, along with a robe that she quickly wrapped around herself before they pulled her up along with her passenger. To his surprise, her tail was gone, replaced with a pair of slender legs.
As soon as they were on board, the blond quickly enveloped her in a bone crushing hug, checking to ensure she was free of harm before glancing at the boy with her. Asking her a question, she nodded, her gaze flickering over to him before answering more of the warrior's questions. A hand touched his shoulder, and he turned, seeing a thinner version of the blond, only this man had deep violet eyes and a softer disposition. "I will get you warm clothing and you can tell me why you were with her."
"You're not going to kill me?" he asked, still unsure of their intentions or why she had brought him here.
"Did you want us to?" the man asked, slightly laughing at the young nation's bafflement and fear. "I believe you are safe; at least until she decides to leave again."
"Is she his daughter?"
"No, but she is very important to us."
Making his way to the hull, he noted the warriors sitting at tables, eating meat, drinking ale, and staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and hostility. Or at least that's how he perceived it. "They won't attack you," he promised, as if he knew his thoughts.
"Why?"
"She chose to save your life; and therefore we can do no less."
Prussia had had a long day, and everything was starting to catch up to him, but he didn't dare lose consciousness. He had to find a way back home... "I can't stay..."
"I figured as much." Handing him a mug of strong ale, Prussia drank it, despite the horrible smell. "I am Finland, and the blond is my younger brother Sweden." If he wasn't so tired, he might have dropped what he was drinking and gone racing for the water, preferring his chances with the monsters than the legendary Viking warlord. No one messed with him, and if his ships appeared upon the horizon, one either made way for their arrival, or died in the attempt of forcing them back. Only Britain and France had managed to turn them away successfully, but not without heavy losses of their own.
"What do I owe for your help?" Prussia wasn't an idiot; one didn't give favors without wanting something in return.
"Keep word of her a secret; even from your closest allies. No one knows of outside of our people, and we will kill to keep it that way."
"That's easy; I don't have any allies." Finland stopped pouring a bowl of stew for him, a look of pity flickering across his features before he turned back to the pot and finished pouring a sizable amount of food.
"I was under the impression you were once allies with France and Holy Rome."
"They're more like enemies that I keep as close as possible. My mother... she died when I was very young; leaving me little choice but to lead my country, or die as the British and Roman Empire expand and take more and more. I'm barely holding them back... and then there's Poland and Russia, both of which I am not on friendly terms with."
"And your father?"
"My mother never spoke of him, and I never asked."
Finland sighed, handing the bowl to the young nation and sat, watching Prussia eat it with alarming speed. He knew the boy was hungry, but he refrained from asking for more, afraid they'd demand something for everything they gave. Without hesitation, Finland refilled the bowl three more times before Prussia stopped staring at it with longing and desperation. "Essentially, all that you've known is the sword and battle."
"That's why we exist; isn't it?" Prussia demanded, refusing to apologize for his actions or decisions.
"No," a male voice interrupted, Prussia jumping up in fear. The blond was alone, a hint of sadness in his blue eyes. "A nation's responsibility is to his people, to ensure their survival. At times, that means war, and others simply to find food and shelter from the harsh winters that plague our lands. Without us, they would most certainly suffer; either death or integration into another territory. The latter is not always a better option."
Prussia wanted more than anything to sleep, but thoughts of Russia marching towards his borders kept him from closing his eyes, and he stood, beginning to pace back and forth, hand on the hilt of his sword. He had to get back, but what if they wouldn't let him? "You say our duty is to also protect?"
"It is," Finland confirmed, waiting for Prussia to make the next move. They had no problems in offering their assistance to the young nation, but he had to ask for it; that had been their agreement between one another. Sweden had been right. The moment they had laid eyes upon him, his characteristics that changed as soon as he came out of the water, they had known who and what he was. He was of the sea as much as he was of the land.
"Russia... I have to stop him. Please, I need to go home."
"Why were you with her?" Sweden demanded. He had asked the same question to Atlantis, but she had not answered, simply giving him a sad smile, and then jumping back over the side of his vessel and into the ocean. There was no point in trying to search for her; she was of the water and she'd only appear if and when there was a need.
"She saved my life." Sweden hesitated, uncertain if he should take his word, or continue to wonder if there was more to the story. Atlantis didn't seem like the type to allow another to take advantage, but she was still vulnerable and anyone with impure intent could cause her further harm. Nodding, he made his way back to the ship's deck, barking orders and directions for them to make way for the Prussian borders. "I... I don't know how to ask for help," Prussia finally admitted to the friendlier of the two nations.
"We didn't ask you to, nor are you to feel inclined to do so. Our only intent is to take you to Prussia, drop you off, and go back to our original tasks. If you wish for us to stay, then we shall. If you say nothing, then we will take your silence as a command to go."
Prussia breathed a heavy sigh of relief, making his way towards the deck himself. He had never been on a boat before, and he found that he rather liked it, watching as the crew moved with ease and familiarity. The air was clean, cold... He almost wanted to stay, but his people needed him, the fear of Russia destroying them making it difficult to enjoy his first sea adventure. Several hours later, they were docking on his home shores, and with a desperate leap, he was already on the sandy beaches racing towards his borders. "Do we go after him?" Finland asked.
"No... it is best that he find and make his own way. In order to rely on others, one must also rely on himself, and he is hesitant to make friends or alliances." Prussia didn't have to look back to know they were leaving, and for the first time, he almost wanted to ask that they stay and help him drive Russia away. Shaking his head, he decided he had to do this on his own. If someone helped him now, he'd never make it, and he had something to prove, not just to himself, but to the rest of the other nations that were looking at him with greedy, and hungry eyes.
For two days and two nights he raced across his country, barely stopping long enough to take a few minutes of rest at any point. Time was not on his side, and he arrived at the edge of Poland and Prussia, to see that the two armies had combined, hoping for an opportunity to take down his country. To say neither country was expecting to see him was an under statement, Poland glancing over to Russia. Just to see the shocked expression on the nation's face made everything he had endured worth the lack of sleep and food.
"You are quite resourceful, da?" Russia taunted, hoping Prussia would brag of his newly found freedom. Winning against Prussia's forces might have proven easy if their nation had remained in his icy prison, but he was a crafty and intelligent opponent. Even with the odds stacked against him, he always found a way to survive, and everyone involved might suffer heavier losses than what they wanted or could afford.
"If I promise to leave you alone; is that enough to withdraw your forces."
Russia tilted his head, as if considering the nation's offer. It wasn't like Prussia not to shout out a direct challenge, and he was curious as to why he didn't want to fight. "You attacked Russia first, no?"
"I did and I was wrong." That caught everyone off guard, to include his own people. However, Sweden was right. He had an obligation to his own people, and that meant trying to spare them a war they might not win if Russia and Poland decided to attack in unison. "Do not mistake my hesitation for weakness; I have simply decided that war is not always the answer and I will no longer consider it as my first option."
Russia saw a hint of steady resolve in the Prussian's gaze that hadn't been there when they had last fought. Perhaps it was his close call in the ice, and he had no idea how he managed to get free, and perhaps keeping him alive would definitely be worth the extra few minutes before he killed him personally. Not knowing what Prussia had done or how, Russia decided it was best not to challenge the younger nation, and having had too many close calls with him in the past, he decided it was not worth the risk to his people. He'd have his day, and they both knew it as Russia ordered the withdrawal of his troops. If anyone thought they might bully or try to gain the upper hand on Russia at this point, they were sorely mistaken and he wasn't about to make that mistake a second time.
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A Nation's Salvation