I do not own Hetalia. It belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz, and I take no credit for the characters or places or habits or anything. Thank you.

And also, this book is set in a couple different points of view. The start of this chapter is set in second person, so try and imagine that YOU are that person. Most of this will be written in third person, though.

1. Baltic States, England, A Supposed Hero and a Crazy Younger Sister

This was not a place to take a leisurely stroll. This was not a place for one to simply walk outside in a drunken confusion, the three-quarters-empty bottle of clear liquid falling out of your hands as the world tilts this way and that, everything blurry. It wouldn't have mattered if you could see, everything was grey and white, except for a few trees. Because the trees were the only swaying thing you can see, you make your way toward them, and they crumble in your sight, and so does the snow, which cushions your fall. Anyone who might see you would snicker at your drunkenness and leave you to die, because they know the world would be better without you, they're scared of you and just want to be free…

Latvia wouldn't save you. Belarus might, though. Or worse, Belarus might do horrible things to you while you're asleep, this thought jolts you and you try to stand again to get out of the cold, out of the snow, but sorrow and heavy drinking keeps you down.

And you sleep alone in this snow-covered land. Possibly never to wake again. And when you sleep, you dream of sunflowers, or mainly the sun in general. Both things painfully absent in this harsh land, somewhere that is so cold and so ridden with it's own inescapable past that you wish never to wake up, because there is almost no one to wake up with, or anyone to wake you entirely.

Because you are alone. You are Russia. A strong, feared nation of the world, yet so weak with loneliness and cold that the façade of a strong nation might crumble as easily as stacked playing cards. And since you know this, yet you struggle to wrap your head around it, it gives you more reason to lay in the snow, alone. If you wake you know it will be the same world out there, the same cold Russia that you are. Nothing can change the fact that it's too cold for life to sprout in such a place. Nothing will change the fact you have no one by your side- or no willing, helpful friends you long for. The time does not flow in your mind as you sleep. You wake twice, each time it being two different times of day, once night, the other early morning. Time can pass without Russia ever noticing, and so you let it pass, because you are Russia, and Russia's past might swallow it's time all together.

And you let it. You let it stand on the brink of the edge, waiting for it to swallow and the past of a hopeful Soviet Union, innocent children and dead soldiers crumble to dust. With it you will be all but forgotten, but still present, much like the glorious Roman Empire.

Meanwhile-

You walk through the snow. You like the energy flowing through your body, energy of a young country still filled with the same hope and bravery that won it's freedom. You also like the company of your worst enemy but deepest companion, a blonde-haired green-eyed England who was not enjoying the weather in the least. This makes you laugh. Because you are cold, but there are cold areas in your country, so you try to stand it but the truth of the matter is you experience the piercing cold the same way England does, and you want to gripe as much as he is, though pride swallows the wish because you are America, and the want to be superior washes away all sense of cold to make yourself appear tough to your friend. It makes the cold worthwhile.

The truth of their journey was awfully confusing to you. You don't know why England insisted upon visiting Russia, or why he had thought of that crazy man at all. In the back of your head, a small part that you often ignore, you know it's because the Axis are falling apart and England wants to keep these countries together as much as possible. Even though the bond between them was already as frail as China glass, you tell yourself you'll do your best to be friendly around Russia, confident that France and China would turn up to visit soon as well. In an even smaller part of your brain, you wonder if Canada will be there as well, but that part of your head is reserved for critical thinking, therefore it's not used often and thus ignored.

Most of your brain is occupied on the house you approach. It's a nice enough house, you think, but it isn't at all what you might've expected. You expected a shack in the middle of the woods with the windows cracked and the walls cold cement, with makeshift curtains that probably came from towels. Instead the house tucked back of the woods could've been easily described as a mansion, was made with brick and many windows with a couple chimneys spitting black smoke. Inside the lights from the windows illuminated against the grey sky hold a place inside looking decorated and well-kept. Even England is surprised visibly- which was huge. He tried to make a point of hiding his shock from you, but you already saw it, and smirk. At least you don't have to be scolded for being presumptuous, or something. You are both surprised.

"Well," says England as the two of you mount the porch. "I think we can expect a good welcome. I do admit, you might have an easier time in this house, being friends with both of Russia's sisters."

Ukraine and Belarus. You mouth hints a bit of a smile. Both of them had different aspects that made them likeable- Ukraine was just easy to pick out of a group, and Belarus? What a babe. You're excited to see them both as England rings the doorbell.

A cheery sound fills the air, drowning out the sound of a harsh wind rolling up, and the door swings open. A young man's face fills the gap of a cracked door- he's not much older than you are. It was Lithuania, his light brown hair framed his face, which had always made it a little hard for you to tell if he was a boy or a girl. He wore a green uniform about the same color as England's- but fitted with a tie and didn't have the belt across it. He didn't look comfortable at all, and you doubt he could be no matter what he wore. He seemed to be the type of thin that showed he had often skipped meals from being so frightened, and his face was shrouded in dark circles. Loss of sleep, you think. You know there was no way you would sleep here either if you ended up staying the night.

Relief seemed to wash over Lithuania's face, and the door opened wider. "Good afternoon," he stammered. He was trembling, as usual. "Please, come inside. Latvia and Estonia are in the kitchen, and Belarus is in the dining room."

That's where you'll find me, you think as you step inside. The warmth of the house is extremely comforting compared to the frostbitten outside.

The hallway was floored with a dark brown wood, and the walls were a golden-crème color. You try not to look at the grotesque paintings on the walls, which make you go ridged as Lithuania as your footsteps make hollow noises in step with you. Brass candle holders protrude from the walls and light the hallway in dim patches, and it doesn't take long for you to realize that even though the house is spick and span, it wasn't the glistening-clean as England's house or France's- it was the barren, forgotten clean that reminds you that you are anything but alone. Fear grips you as you march down the hallway behind Lithuania, waiting for Russia to jump out of any corner, wielding a Tetris block or something. You swallow.

"Erm, Lithuania?" England's voice has a sort of worried pitch. You're relieved you're not the only one who's scared. "Where exactly is Russia? And I caught that you didn't mention Ukraine. Is she not here either?"

Lithuania slowed down a bit and looked hurriedly over his shoulder. "Uh," he stammered, his voice not reaching an octave above a whisper. "Russia is running a bit late. And Ukraine won't be coming- her boss doesn't allow it."

"Aw…" you say, honestly disappointed. You cheer up almost instantly, though, as you pass the dining room, catching a glimpse of the blonde Belarus as Lithuania leads you into one of the dens. Her hair was brushed into a navy-blue bow, and she was wearing a dress of the same color. The dress flounced out from where she sat due to an enormous number of petticoats, a lot like the fashion of the woman in your own country in the 1800's era. She wore an apron over it that was held up by a blue and white striped sash, secured in a gigantic bow just above her bottom.

England gets your attention rather well by preventing you from smacking into an ill-placed statue on the corner of the hallway. You sidle around it, disgusted, as Lithuania opens a door into the den, because you recognize it as one of the many communist party leader's heads. You never really understood communism- capitalism was definitely the way to go today. Maybe you could bring that up, you think, when Russia gets here…

Even more meanwhile…

"Latvia," Estonia scolded from where he stood at the kitchen sink. He accidentally left the water running, letting old spinach run down the faucet. "Why so jittery? You're supposed to be watching for Mr. Russia so we don't look completely stupid when he comes back."

Latvia didn't pay attention. With his finger, he scooped a lick of the icing off a certain cake sitting on the counter that Lithuania had prepared about an hour earlier. "So what? He probably got drunk or something an passed out in the woods." His raspy little voice was clogged a little bit from the sweet cream off the cake. "And if you ask me, good riddance."

"Stop that!" Lithuania came bursting into the kitchen, looking extremely worried. Latvia jumped away from the cake like it was an electric fence. Lithuania looked around frantically. "Did Russia come in this way?"

"No," Estonia said, and shut off the water. He dried his hands on his pants. "Lithuania, do you want to make some tea for our guests? France and China should be arriving soon, and that shy one that I can never remember…"

"Stupid!" Lithuania grabbed his face in horror. "Who cares about France? If Russia comes in and if he forgot that we were expecting the Allies, he's going to think we're invaded! And even worse, if he's drunk and sees America in here it's going to be another rerun of that Sputnik incident, only worse-"

"Relax, Lithuania," Latvia laughed. "If Russia's not back in an hour, we can send them home and Russia can find his way home by himself. When he gets back to find all the food laid out, he'll think we did it for him."

For a minute, there was silence, as it was a little tricky for Lithuania and Estonia to comprehend that Latvia hadn't rambled about something completely senseless for once- and for a second the two of them merely blinked at the small country as he picked his way back to the cake.

"…that's not a bad idea, Latvia," Estonia said proudly. "Good thinking." He cranked the egg timer for sixty minutes. "We'll send them home when it goes off. Sound good? In the meantime they can occupy themselves with arguing and tea. Lithuania, calm down. Latvia's got a point, Russia could be gone for days."

Lithuania's heart rate slowed for a fraction of a millisecond. Then he trembled again. "But with a bigmouth in the house like America and a drunken Russia coming home unannounced, we can only hope that those bombs left over from the eighties are well hid…"

Estonia snorted and pushed Lithuania out of the kitchen. "I really don't think he'd bomb someone in his own house. Now, go and tend to our guests. Latvia, keep watching out that window and alert me if you see him."

The door swung shut. Lithuania swallowed again, still incredibly unsteady, and he made his way down the hall again, but the door swept open a second time.

"Oh, and Lithuania?" It was Estonia. He had a serious expression. "Make sure Belarus doesn't find out Russia's missing. She'll got bonkers."

"R-right…" Lithuania whispered shakily. With a small whoosh, the door behind him closed. He walked down the dark hallways, straightening his uniform to try and look his best. "Hey, Belarus," he whispered into the dining room. Belarus, with her head probed up by one palm, toying with the knives set out on the table, was obviously gorgeous. He blinked.

She lifted her head, reviling the same strange, vacant lavender eyes she and her brother shared. They could look very alive, but that usually happened when she was chasing after her brother or trying to stab someone. She was a complete psychopath, but she was alright. "What is it?" Her accent was thick and elegant at the same time.

Lithuania fought for an answer. "Er…." He sought. "Russia told me to tell you to go wait upstairs in one of the guest rooms…" Think, think.

Her face sort of melted into a state of shock. The knife clattered onto the tabletop. "For… him?"

Lithuania didn't know the damage he was creating when he nodded uncontrollably, anything to prevent her from finding out that Russia was missing.

Thump! The chair tipped over behind her as she stood bolt upright from the table, her face a mix of determination and dizziness. She passed Lithuania in a dreamlike state and hobbled down the hallway, then up a set of stairs.

Lithuania's palm met his forehead and he leaned against the doorway. He thought about going after her, but nothing was going to convince her otherwise. He took a deep breath, shook out the memory best he could, then plunged into the living room where America and England quietly disputed something about the meal.

Three cheers to me! My first Hetalia chapter- finished! Yay!

Also, if you have any confusion on the point-of-views, I'll just tell you I won't be using second person for a while now. The next chapter will most likely be entirely third-person. Don't ask me why I did it like that because I really don't know.

Anyway, review please!

Actually, I've posted this before, and I thought I was never going to write fan fictions again. But a lot of people seemed to like it…sorta? So I'm putting it back up and possibly getting to finish it.