Disclaimer: Do not own Hetalia, just my Ocs.
A long time ago there used to be another Island in the Mediterranean Sea. Its inhabitants called it Ritan. The island was beautiful, and full of life and joy.
They were an athletic people enjoying the outdoors and sunshine. They particularly liked swimming and often there would be great explorers swimming out past the horizon and returning with tales of other places. It was enchanting to them that other people could be so different. But, because of these discoveries, the children were not allowed to swim. The adults often worried that, if the children knew how to swim, they would swim off past the horizon and never come back.
One day, the swimmers came back with tales of horror. The other civilizations had met and some were starting to take over their neighbors. The swimmers warned that some of them had these things they called boats, and it let the other civilizations travel long distances over water. This deeply upset the population, because previous to this invention, they were the only society they knew trained hard enough to swim the long distances.
As generations passed, the civilization they grew to fear the most were the Romans, led by a man named Rome. Rome never stopped until he was in control. Rome was scary.
The Ritans focused all their energy in protecting the Island, with extra precaution on the half that faced the heart of the Roman Empire.
Rome terrified everyone so much, that –in addition to the increase in defensive and combat training, which was scary in itself because they already were considered a warrior people, and the increase in agriculture, because that's a nice bonus to have- the people soon forgot the swimmers tales of other civilizations that the other half of the island faced.
They could not create new tales either, because it was deemed too dangerous for the swimmers to venture out again. But, they did keep up that training at least.
In the midst of all this, one child was deeply affected. All the inhabitants knew was that she shared the same name as the island. No one knew who her parents were or where she came from. Ritan would sit by the shore of the island and watch for boats. It was especially peculiar because she couldn't have been more than two. Even though she was often alone, the inhabitants had a fondness for her, despite the fact that she never seemed to age.
The adults of the island had warriors -what they called fighters, and anyone trained as such-patrol the perimeter and they checked on her often.
Usually the warriors would try to convince Ritan to go off and play with the other children.
But she would always shake her head, say a variation of 'I can't', and stay at her self- designated post.
Day in and day out, she would always do this. The warriors took to caring for her. They would bring her meals and water, teach her defensive moves, one even gave her a saki*, but that was taken away by a concerned elder...
No one really remembers how long this went on.
Because the island sunk.
Ritan was actually the first to notice.
It was an ordinary day, and she saw the water getting closer, but high tide had already passed, so she ran for the assistance of a warrior, the one who just checked on her.
The water was rising faster and steadier now.
"We're sinking!" He shouted in words long forgotten**. He ran to warn the population.
Ritan was terrified as she tried to find high enough ground, because the children couldn't swim.
Then everything in Ritan's world went black.
*It is the Atlantian word for knife. It is also presumed to be the Ritan (Forgotten Language) word for it.
**The Ritan language it actually lost.
Yes, I have my own -as in made up- 'language' of Atlantis. The reason will become clear in later chapters. Please review, but no flames. I will take constructive critisism though. the second note will actually get clearer in the next chapter though
