House of Memories 《Hetalia》

《𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓊𝑒》

The ship stopped at the shore of the new land. A land with unlimited resources for their own land and people. Men climbed down from the ship, ropes and ladders hung from the bow of the vessel, hanging just above ground.

The cold icy waters hit the leather boots of the men that climbed down. Each of them had their hair long and untamed, braids in the dirty blond, brown, and red hair.

"Set camp over there in that clearing," one man said. A green tunic and long wool cloak dragged behind him. "I'll start looking for food, the rations won't last long."

"Yes sir." The other said and went to the other men.

The guy who appeared to be in charge made his way to the edge of the forest. A deep breath was let out from his mouth, almost and entire year at sea from Iceland had ended at the edge of this new world. A new world. A new chance for life.

He walked into the greenery, searching for any signs of mammal life. Food for his crew.

As he walked into the forest, he couldn't help but see how beautiful it looked. The untouched natural wonder that he hates to disturb. But he must, as a country he has no choice. It was his duty to explore and conquer, to find land to make his own.

"Who's there?" Hands on the hilt of his sword. The rustling of leaves against the ground and the snapping of twigs echoed in the quiet forest. "Show yourself, and you will not get hurt."

He spun in a circle, trying to see the mysterious person whom he had heard. "I have asked politely to reveal yourself, do not make me resort to violence."

Amidst the branches and leaves stood a woman. And to the man, she was more beautiful than the women in his own country. Her hair—though tangled and messy—a beautiful ebony. It reached her waist with feathers and beads woven within the long strands. Animal hides were wrapped around her waist leaving her chest bare. In her hands was a bow and arrow, read to be drawn and released. She spoke to the man, in a language he had never heard of.

"I don't understand you." The man said and cautiously stepped forward. "I am the country of Sweden, I am here to explore and trade."

"...country?" The woman repeated almost exactly as the man. "You are...country?"

"Yes."

"What is a country? Is it like a tribe?"

"In a way," Sweden prepared the cooked meat of a boar. "The people are all like you, speak like you, but are different. They believe what they want to believe and protect who they want. And they fight for safety."

"Safety for who?" She asked. Sweden had, in the few months they've been in the new world, taught her his language.

"For themselves, for their families, friends, land." Sweden told. "For people like me who are countries."

She nodded her head and bit into a fruit. "Can I come to your land one day? You've been in my land for a long time, seen a few of my people, but can I see your home?"

Home isn't what he would call his land. Yes, he lives and cares for every living thing there, it doesn't feel like home. His home is with his family. Seeing his little brothers and sisters in his father's house, the twins run around, the youngest making music, and him with his sister. Home for him left long ago when his father died. Home for him left when the twins were separated. Home for him left when he has to go against his siblings.

And the place he stays, with the others who care for him, aren't family. They are brothers. Boys of the same father. Family with the winter and one of the oldest sons of general winter. They are close, they are family. He's just a friend that became attached to them without him knowing, but not apart of the family.

"One day." Sweden says. "Maybe one day you can see my land."

She smiled at him widely.

"Do you have to go, Sweden?" Native America asked him. He stood on the sand telling his men what to do. "I'll miss you."

"I have to go. I've been here long enough, and my people need me."

"But–"

"And one day, I'll come back." Sweden placed his hands on her bare arms. Spring in the new world had come while they were there, and flowers sprung from the ground. "I promise."

"I need to–"

"Sir, we are ready to sail." The captain yelled from the neck of the boat. Nodding to him, Sweden turned back to Native America. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes making him guilty for leaving.

"Don't cry," Sweden wiped her tears away.

"But I won't see you again."

"Yes you will, I'll make sure of it."

"No, you don't understand!" Native America grabbed his shirt.  Her tears fell from her eyes as she cried against his chest. A part of her wanted to tell him, but the other didn't. She knew that what happened would hold him back. Would keep him here longer, but can't tell him. He has important things to do. "I don't want you to leave, I want you to stay and have the family you want here; but you have to go."

Sweden hugged her tight. He wants to stay. He wants to have a family. He wants to be with her. "And I can't hold you back."

"Sir, we must leave before mid-day if we wish to be at Iceland before the winter waters!" The captain yelled hastily from the deck.

Sweden kissed Native America goodbye and made his trek to the ship. "You need to know before you leave, before it's too late..." he climbed the ladder aboard the ship, people milling about doing what they need. "I'm pregnant!"

His head whipped back to her. She say on shore, hands cupped around her mouth to broaden her voice to the leaving ship, and that's when her words made sense. She wanted him to stay with the family they made. The family that Berwald wished to have for years and years. And he finally had one, but he can't stay. He has to go back. He has to be with his land. Its his job, one he has to obey till the day Sweden is no more.

As the ship left the shore of the new world, ready to tell the others like them of what they had found, he shouted three words to the woman on shore.

"I love you!"