House of Memories 《Hetalia》

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"Memories are fragile." Native America told the group. "And it's because they are fragile that they are easy to manipulate and be messed with, my son, your memories have been messed with and need to be fixed.

"Which is why I brought all of you. Each one of you has had an impact on my sons life, the people he trusts and his friends and family." She motions the the big door. "When you have found the source of the corruption, you will be able to leave through those doors, time is still moving in the outside world but very slowly, so act quickly."

"Wait, how are we supposed to get to the source?" Japan asked.

"You have to experience the memories that are though the doors in the hallways. Each hallway is a time period; one for your childhood, colonization, early independence, and so on and so forth."

Everyone understood what they have to do, and already talking about plans on how to go about it. Some were saying that they should split into groups, others say that they go in together. And others didn't want to. Invading on privacy that was meant to be private.

"Mama, I don't want them to see my memories." America told her.

"My love, they must, of you wish to be alive by sunrise." She says. "I'm sorry. I wish this didn't have to happen, but it has too. I don't want you to be with me before your time." America nodded.

"Farewell to you all, and hopefully by the end of this, you will appreciate what you have before you better." Native America kissed her sons head and Sweden's cheek goodbye before she walked away into an invisible pocket to which she disappeared from.

Everyone sat around at the group of chairs and couches in the center. Alfred stood and walked around. There are about seven hallways with doors on each side arranged in a circle. The main hallway with the large doors pointed north, as directed by the large gold compass decal on the marble floor. Between the hallways were painting and portraits from Alfreds' history: the painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware, a portrait of him, his brother, and Arthur when they were both under his rule. Alfred sighed, "Let's get this over with so we can leave and continue on with our own lives, Yeah?"

"I agree." Germany says. "Let's start at the beginning. Alfred, would you lead the way?"

"Yeah," He nodded. "Sure."

The group stood up and followed the blonde to the first hallway. Laughter could be heard from the hall. Doors slightly ajar and others locked shut. Walking up to the the first door in the Northeast hallway they found that it was locked. It wouldn't budge nor would the handle turn. Matthew stood next to his brother as he tried to open the door but his attention was elsewhere,"What the?"

He walked away from the group—catching the attention of the others—to the couches. There in the middle of the room was a door.  Decorated like the hundreds of other doors in the room, the same hard oak door with a gold handle.  It the one thing that set it apart was the number on it. The number zero was etched in the wood, the unusual gold was now silver. Matthew grabbed the handle to open it. Pushing it lightly, the door opened.

"I guess we go here first?" He said.

One by one they walked in, on the other side was a lush green forest. The area has been cleared of mosh shrubbery and foliage for the tents and other camping necessities. Through an open path one could see an old ship docked on the shore line. Shields decorated the sides of the ship and a long mast in the center.

"I kn'w tha' ship," Berwald spoke, startling the others. The usual quiet man hand really spoken much since they've arrived, though they could tell if he spoke much when he left the group with Matthew and Alfred. "I kn'w wh're we 're."

"Then where are we?" Arthur sassed.

"The s'ttlem'nt Leif Erickson 'nd I made wh'n we f'und th' new wo'rld," Berwald answered as he saw himself, walking and talking with the same dark-haired and copper-skinned woman from earlier. " 'ne of th' b'st years of my l'fe."

"Why?" Prussia asked

"Bec'use I m't the l've of my l'fe," He answered and watched as past-Berwald talked to Native America by the fire. Her black hair was held back by twine, but a few strands weren't held back and framed her face. A deer skin skirt wrapped around her waist and wrist like makeshift cuffs. Long strands of beaded clay necklaces hung from her neck and covered her nipples.

"Mom!" Matthew and Alfred yelled when they saw her. She looked just like they remembered, just topless.

The group watched the scene go by somewhat quickly. They saw Native America teaching the viking explorers how to find edible food and where to look for game. She told them about her land and how different her people are. The quiet nights on the beach with Berwald telling her about Europe and all the other countries, and the nations understood why Berwald loved this part of his life. No wars, no fighting or political issues, no worries about the rest of his family; just him, the stars, and the mother of his children.

"So that's how you meet our mom?" Alfred asked.

"Yes." Berwald answered.

"But why did you leave?"

"You'll se'."

The environment shifted. The clearing that once held tents and crates and a roaring fire was gone. Nothing but coal around ashes of wood. Leif Erickson and the rest of the men that sailed with them were packing their belonging and putting them on the ship to leave. Berwald carried the largest of the food supply bags up to the ship, not hearing the name calls from below.

"Berwald!" Native America yelled. "Berwald I must speak with you!"

Past-Berwald stood up from where he stood and looked down to his lover. Smiling he jumped off into the shallow shore and walked to where she stood. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Don't leave," She said.

"I must. My people need me over there, if I could stay I would without a doubt, but I have family over there." Berwald held Native America's hands. "My little brothers and sisters—"

"Sweden! We must leave!" Leif Erickson yelled. "If we leave later we might not make it to Iceland before the winter waters!"

Past-Berwald kissed Native America goodbye and made his way to the ship. Climbing the sides using a rope he took an oar and pushed the ship off the sand. "Berwald!"

He looked at her as she stood waist deep, and with all her strength she yelled to him, "I'm pregnant!"

Berwald looked down from the scene. It was too much for him to relive, so many emotions came from him that day. Regret, happiness, wonder, and worry. He regrets leaving her on the shore for many years and never returning. He felt happy when the news sunk in that he has a child. He wondered for years of the day when he'd meet his child, or of what they looked like. But most of all, he was worried. Worried that his child would be angry at him for leaving, for abandoning them. But when he heard the last words he spoke to Native America, a tear rolled down his cheek. "I love you!"

The world faded from around them to reveal the marble room in which they started.

Matthew broke the silence. "So you didn't want to leave?"

"N'ver," Berwald said. "I n'ver w'nted t' le've, But I h'd too."

"Why didn't you come back?"

"Wars, I w's in m'ny wars th't prev'nt'd me fr'm com'ng back." Berwald sat down with the others.