Percy Jackson and the Olympians belongs to Rick Riordan, Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz.

Prologue: The Final Meeting

Heracles could hear the gods arguing and yelling as he walked up towards the throne room of Mount Olympus. The moment he entered, the room fell silent.

"Well, Heracles?" Zeus, king of the gods, said. "What is your decision? Do you side with us, or with the rest of your kind?"

Heracles hesitated before answering. Stroking his cat, he carefully chose his words as he spoke. "Sorry, Zeus. I can't abandon the others."

Zeus's face darkened. "Then this will be the last time we meet. From the moment you set foot outside of Olympus, you are forbidden to return or go to Camp Half-Blood until this conflict is over." Heracles nodded, his fingers never leaving his cat's soft fur.

"Then leave. You are an enemy now, Greece."

Slowly, Heracles Karpusi, also known as Greece, turned and walked out without another word. The gods inside the throne room broke into conversations/arguments again. The arguments soon turned violent, with Ares trying to throttle Athena and Hephaestus trying to whack them both on the heads to quiet them down. In the confusion, one goddess slipped away and headed for the magic elevator that connected Mount Olympus to the mortal world. She could see a lone person standing next to the silver doors. As she drew closer, the ruffled brown hair with distinct double curl and the casual clothes marked him out as Greece. He didn't turn to look at her, instead focusing intently on stroking his cat.

"I thought you would come after me," he said quietly.

"We can't have another war so soon after the previous," Hera replied. "I have a plan to stop it. However, I will need your help to begin."

"I'm not allowed in Olympus anymore." It wasn't a question. "I can't help."

"Just because you, my dear Greece, are not allowed in Olympus, does not mean I am not allowed out," Hera said. "We can pick a meeting place. I'll only need your help to begin. I can do the rest on my own."

Heracles finally looked at her. He cocked his head slightly. "You can handle it? The same way you tried to stop the Greek and Roman war and ended up getting captured almost immediately?"

"Oh, hush. That was Gaea's doing."

"Technically, we're the earth too."

Hera glanced around. "We can't talk much longer. You will be staying in the US for a little longer, right?"

"One day at most."

"Then tomorrow, at 9 PM, meet me at... The entrance to Grand Central Station. Is that okay?"

Heracles smiled, but it was a smile tinged with bitterness. "The queen of the gods, requesting things from a mortal?"

"You're not a mortal. Now please give me an answer. Will you help?"

"Of course. If it will stop this war... I will do anything."

Heracles checked his watch as he threaded his way through the crowds of civilians and tourists. 8:54. He still had some time. But it wouldn't hurt to be early.

Finally reaching the steps to the famous train station, he gazed up at the facade, glimmering in the light of the street lamps. Then he turned his attention to the crowd, searching for a beautiful, regal woman who would probably have peacock feathers or patterns on her of some sort. Hera was like that. She couldn't resist peacocks.

"Hey, punk." Heracles immediately looked around for the source of the rough voice. Then hands grabbed him, pulling him into the shadow of a nearby alley. δεκάρα. He had let himself be surprised. He mentally cursed himself for letting down his guard. He tried to look around for his captor. Or captors. Just by glancing, he saw them, and how many. Ha! Just thirteen teenage boys, trying to play gangster! Well, they picked the wrong person to mug.

The biggest boy, presumable the leader, stepped forward, and growled, "Hand over all your money and possessions, and nobody gets hurt. Understand?" He was probably seventeen, eighteen, no more than nineteen years old. Heracles smiled grimly to himself. Time to show them who was really the boss.

Most of the other countries, and indeed, almost everyone who knew him would describe him as relaxed and easygoing. Well, that was not the case while he was fighting, just as Italy, when he got serious, was not the flag-waving coward everyone knew him as. Heracles slowly reached inside his coat, as if reaching for his wallet. Instead, he whipped out a cross, only about half the size of his usual combat cross, but still a dangerous weapon all the same. He snapped his arm back out, hitting the wannabe gangster in the chest. The guy flew back at least two feet. The other gangsters closed in to avenge their leader, who was spitting out hate words.

The boys didn't stand a chance. The youngest was fifteen at least, the oldest seventeen or eighteen, but they were nothing compared to a millenia-old country. Withing minutes the thirteen "gangsters" were down on the ground. Heracles left them in the alley and headed back out onto the street, discreetly tucking away his cross. The street was much less crowded, but in New York, that still meant that moving through the crowd was like trying to get through a school hallway just after the bell rang. There's just no way to move quickly.

Heracles checked his watch. 9:02. Great. He was late. Where was Hera?

"My dear Greece, it is not very like you to be late," a lilting voice sounded from behind him. Heracles turned, and there was Hera, in a peacock feather-patterned dress.

"I ran into some...trouble," Heracles replied. "And remember, my name is Heracles."

Hera gestured for him to follow her. They walked into the station together and went down a deserted hallway, ignoring the Do Not Enter sign at its entrance. Hera turned to face him.

"Please don't resist what I am going to do next, Heracles," she said. "It will only make it harder."

Heracles nodded immediately. Although he would never admit it to any deity, one of the goddesses he trusted the most was Hera. She cupped her hands, and a small ball of white light appeared. The light ball grew bigger, enveloping the two "people". Then, the light was gone. And so were they.

Heracles opened his eyes. He and Hera were standing on a white marble platform that rose out of...clouds? In front of him was a shimmering, silvery pool filled with what seemed to be mist.

"Hera? What is this place?" he asked. The goddess didn't answer the question.

"Let me explain my plan to you," she said. "Do you remember what I did during the Greek-Roman tension? I sent one of the most important campers from each camp to the other, to establish a link. For this war, I plan to do the same. Only more... one-sided."

Heracles's jade green eyes widened. "Are you saying, you want some countries to come to Olympus?"

"Not quite. Zeus is not letting anyone that is not a god, save Chiron and some nymphs, to enter Olympus. However, his plan is to use the demigods to begin the war, the gods to finish."

"Oh..." Heracles's mental gears started to turn. "So you want to send a couple nations to each camp, to establish diplomatic relationships, right?"

"Correct. And that is where you come in." Hera turned to the silvery pool. "Using this pool, I can summon anyone, from anywhere in the world. However, there is a limit to how many times a year I can use it. This is the last time this year."

Heracles raised an eyebrow. "It's not even June yet."

"Like I said, I can't use it very much. Back to the matter at hand... Heracles, please tell me some countries that you think would work well with the Greek and Romans."

"Hmm..." Heracles said thoughtfully. "Well, I'd say- hold on. Will you take away their memories?"

"Yes. I've seen how much your kind fight over past events. It would be better if they didn't remember old rivalries and grudges."

"Then... will you take away their knowledge that they are countries?"

"I will try," Hera replied, "but there's no guarantee it will last. The moment someone tells them directly, they will know, and their memories will probably all return as well. But don't worry. I'll store their memories the same way I stored Jason's and Percy's: I'll put them in a 'bottle' of sorts. That bottle will start 'leaking' as they slowly regain their memories. It will be better this way."

"I see what you are saying," Heracles said. "And I have in mind five countries that I think will do the job."

"Who?"

"Canada, definitely," Heracles started. "He gets along well with most people. However, wherever Canada goes, America follows, and that airhead could blow our cover. So America is the second. America is hard to handle, though, and Canada can't manage it by himself. So I think England would help a lot. If he doesn't remember France, then he'll be fine. He's very responsible."

Hera nodded thoughtfully. "I approve so far."

Heracles continued. "The last two are Italy and Romano."

"What?"

"You heard me. Italy and Romano," Heracles said. "Although they may look and act weak, when they must they can be very dangerous, Italy in particular. Italy is also a very naturally friendly and kind person who would probably get along best with the Greeks. Finally, those two, being two halves of the same country, share a 'connection' of sorts, which could be useful. Provided Italy doesn't remember what England did to terrify him during the World Wars, the Italy brothers should work out fine, as well."

"You mentioned Italy would get along best with the Greeks. That's the second thing. What do you think would be the best way to divide them up?"

"I'd say keep England and America together. America would probably drive the Romans out of their minds, so he and England should go to Camp Half-Blood, along with Italy. Canada and Romano can go to the Romans."

Hera turned to the pool. "Very well, then. I'll trust your judgement." She started muttering something Heracles couldn't hear. The silver mist swirled and thickened, taking on five shapes. The shapes solidified into five unconscious nations. As Hera opened her mouth to start the memory spell, Heracles suddenly said, "Wait."

Hera turned to him. "They're too old to pass as campers," Heracles said. "You'll have to alter their ages a little."

"Very well." Hera muttered something else under her breath, and the five nations seemed to shrink. England looked about seventeen, Romano and Canada looked sixteen, and Italy and America looked fifteen. "They'll pass now," Heracles said. "Please, continue."

Hera started her muttering again. Five round orbs appeared, hovering in the air. White shimmering mist crept out of each nation's forehead. The memory mist gathered in their own orbs, swirling around the insides of the spheres. Finally, it was done.

"Their ages will be restored when their memories fully are," Hera said. "I'll do the rest. I can send you back now if you'd like to go."
Heracles nodded. "Yes, I'd like to get home as soon as possible."

Hera cupped her hands, and the white light ball appeared again. As the light intensified, Heracles saw the five de-aged nations get enveloped by silver mist and disappear.

"Good luck," he whispered. Then the light vanished.

δεκάρα - Greek for damn

I've really got nothing to say. Just sit back and enjoy. And despite what I said in the disclaimer, I do own Hera's secret cloud place, because I'm pretty sure Rick Riordan has never mentioned a secret cloud place before. Yay.