CCP: I got... bored again. Oh yeah... I should really start updating more chapters to other stuff before starting new ones. But I really had to. Iceland/Liechtenstein guys... IT'S CUTE. I was inspired to finally finish another fanfic because of that recent Ice/Liech one. I'm experimenting here so here's the longer summary:

This is an alternate universe of 'midieval' times, set in Europe with a few tweaks of my own. Nations would be presented as people, most of them as the sovereign of their own countries. The premise is... there is conflict with countries from Northern Europe to Central Europe. Love story behold!

Edited version because the previous version was killing me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. No.

Iceland: Emil

Norway: Lukas

Switzerland: Vash

Liechtenstein: Lili

England: Arthur

Germany: Ludwig

It was early in the morning. The environment was frozen with stillness save the assigned men who had been ordered to carry things out to the port. Other than that, the kingdom and its denizens were sedated for the sun had yet risen and the sky bled with darkness.

However, there was movement in the heart of the kingdom where the castle was situated. The castle had a timeless look although it stood for many generations. It had more of a humble opulence compared to many other regal palaces; it was a Norwegian quirk to keep things simple.

A boy knelt down to kiss His Majesty's hand. His lashes were tightly closed when his lips gingerly brushed the pale and pampered skin of His Grace's hand. It was simply protocol; he was a knight and the man before him was his lord. In his heart, the king was more like a brother to him, but the moment called for formality.

Immediately, the feathery white haired boy rose to face the king. This boy, Emil, looked no more than seventeen years old, young in physical appearance but had jaded violet eyes, sullen and listless with not a glint of emotion. The boy was in clad armor for his prospective journey- he was going to go overseas to mainland Europe for an important but rather clandestine diplomatic mission.

"I won't take long." He uttered to the older boy in front of him, his head bowed slightly for the sake of respect. The older boy merely shook his head in acknowledgement.

Lukas was a young, nineteen year old ruler who had been crowned since the age of twelve. Young as he was, he had a sagely yet tepid aura about him. He had these frozen steel blue eyes that emitted silent authority. The man was in a navy blue robe, made with the finest cloth and furs, and draped on his shoulder was a long cloak that had been passed on from lord knights, warrior princesses, to kings. The most prominent piece of his ensemble was the crown that glimmered by the candle's glow. As Emil stared at the jewels listlessly, memories of their childhood began to seep inside his mind. He remembered when Lukas, his best friend and idol, became crowned to be king. Everybody knew of Lukas's potential but nobody had believed him like Emil did.

It had been a prosperous seven years under his sovereignty. However, Emil found the slightest oddity in the fact that his best friend and older sibling figure had absolute power over an entire country and three colonies. Why, this was the very same Lukas that had played with him, that had skipped rocks with him, that had lied down next to him underneath the shade of a tree during the spring. Those whimsical moments of adolescence had been bleached by reality and the inevitability of growing up. Their mannerisms had changed, from playfulness to prudence however subtle their adoration for each other may be, they were inseparable.

The side of the king's lip quirked up into a half-grin, "I trust that you won't. It wouldn't be the same without you for too long."

"I would never dream of leaving you, Your Majesty." A small hint of a playful smile was plastered on the boy's face. He knew how much that would irk him.

"Again with the titles. Do stop, Emil." He muttered irritably before he touched the side of Emil's pale face, "I'm wondering if you're only taking this task as an excuse to leave this area."

The Icelander bit his lip. Damn, read like a book. "Maybe." He responded flatly, dropping the decorum and the joke.

If only he could stop treating him like a child...

Lukas retracted his hand and smirked in his own fashion, "You're becoming an explorer. Do as you wish but you must return to immediately me after you complete the delivery."

"I will."

He turned away, his cape fluttering loyally behind him. Lukas sat on his throne and then leaned on one arm casually. "The mainland is a dangerous place, Emil. They are deceitful... and I only say that because tension is currently high."

Emil could tell behind Lukas's lackadaisical expression was a troubled mind. "That's why it is my duty to ease that tension or perhaps even nullify it completely." He wanted to avoid the other topic for now. As suspected, Lukas caught on and then exhaled softly.

If only he would stop treating him like an object...

"Goodbye, lillebror."

He knitted his eyebrows, almost feeling guilty for wanting to rudely depart. He knew Lukas had most likely craftily intended this parting to be short and blunt just to make him guilty. Emil turned away and then swiftly walked away, his heart bearing a little more weight than it did before. Although he loved Lukas, he never liked the constraints. He never liked being barred away from the front-lines, from the danger, from the place of happenings. Now he had finally managed to break away just a little bit. For just a while, he could be independent.

The boy made his way to the ship, where the sea-salt fragrance frolicked in the dawn. The boy had his hand on the grip the hilt of his blade that was fastened against his waist. Emil was deemed the ambassador under the king's consent, despite his small frame compared to the thirty crewmembers in the ship. It was all brawn save for a couple of brains on the dock, with no doubt. The men were burly and were no doubt quite boisterous, yet they were clean and strangely hygienic for the most part—another Norwegian quirk.

After scrutinizing the men, Emil sauntered to stand on the prow of the ship, the wind gracing his skin after the sails were let loose. The mysterious puffin, cleverly named 'Mr. Puffin', had been perched on the rails of the ship before flying over to sit on its master's shoulder. The bird curiously tilted its head at Emil's map.

"The fastest way to the Empire of Switzerland would be... through the Kingdom of Germany. Hm." It was a habit of his to mutter to himself or even speak to Mr. Puffin; he felt as if the creature could understand him and at times, even reprimand him. It was childish to have such beliefs, but even at the doorstep of adulthood, some of his young fantasies were still real to him. Addressing his pet, he said, "Lukas said that he made arrangements with Kaiser Ludwig. If most of this journey is going to be set on foot... why bring thirty oafs and a ship?" He scowled at the thought of hanging around such loud-mouth men as he examined the map.

Either or, he didn't care because he had no choice. As long as he could finally take a step on Europe's soil, he had no reason to complain about. Once he folded the map and placed it in his breast pocket, he leaned forward and then cogitated.

The thought of going somewhere foreign was so exciting that it managed to create a small smile in his lips. Though there would indeed be a lot of conflict. He had heard about the emperor of Switzerland and how hard it will be to cope with him...