Chapter One

A.N- This is a fic I've been wanting to write for a while now. It's my first real historical fic. If I mews up on any major details, don't hesitate to correct me. Reviews are always welcome, and greatly appreciated. I don't own the characters or setting.

Toris still couldn't believe what he was seeing. Feliks was back, and sitting next to him. However, his old friend hadn't appeared to notice him yet. That was fine, though. They'd probably get to talk after the meeting. It was to do with the Treaty Britain, France and America had made up. Now that the Great War was over, it was important to make sure it didn't happen again. To help with that, Germany had been weakened in both an economic and military sense. Some land had been taken away from him as well, along with all his colonies. That land had been given to a few neighboring countries. France got Alsace-Lorraine, Belgium got Eupen-Malmedy, Feliks got the Polish Corridor and Toris got the Memel region. It was small, but it was still... maybe not an honour, exactly, but it was nice to be acknowledged. To be trusted. When the meeting broke up, he grabbed Feliks' arm before he could leave.

"Hey, what's going on?" he still sounded the same. Of course he did. Why wouldn't he? The thought made Toris smile. Maybe nothing had changed after all.

"Nothing, Po. I just wanted to say hello. How have you been?" Feliks tugged his arm free and frowned.

"I'm sorry, do I know you or something? I mean, I don't really know anyone here, I was just told to show up. So why are you acting like you know me?" Toris couldn't believe it. Feliks had forgotten him. No, he hadn't. He couldn't have, this was just a joke. That made sense, though it didn't really sound like the usual pranks Feliks used to play.

"That's very funny, Feliks, you can drop the act now," Feliks just looked at him like he was talking nonsense.

"Okay, first of all, how do you know my name? I haven't told anyone that yet. Second, I'm not joking. I'm serious, I don't remember anything. Literally all I know is that my name is Feliks Łukasiewicz, and I'm the nation of Poland. I've been studying my history and culture and stuff, but I can't actually remember experiencing anything. I've tried, but nothing's happened," he sighed, looking confused and slightly upset. Toris couldn't believe it. Feliks really wasn't making this up. He'd forgotten everything. Unable to say any more to his old partner, he left the room.

Toris wasn't sure what to do now. He had tried to understand how this had happened. How it had only affected Feliks, and not him. So far, no answers had come. In all honesty, he blamed the three that had split him and Feliks up in the first place. He hoped they were satisfied now. They'd done this, taken away Feliks' memories. He was about to go and find them, give them a piece of his mind, when he heard footsteps behind him. Instinctively, he froze, even though the person was too light on their feet to be who he thought they were. Part of him hoped it was Feliks, though deep down he knew that was very unlikely.

"There's no need to react like that, I come in peace," Toris rolled his eyes. Of course it had to be Prussia. With a sigh, he turned to face his old enemy.

"That's a first. What do you want, Prussia? Whatever it is, make it quick. I really don't have the patience to deal with you right now."

"Wow, you're not very friendly. What's gotten into you?" Toris stood up. Was he seriously that ignorant?

"You know exactly what the problem is. What did you do to Feliks?" Prussia sighed, and had the nerve to roll his eyes.

"Look, I don't know how that happened. Lizzie's already told me about this, and I said the same to her. If I knew what caused this, I'd say so. Right now, I know about as much as you. Don't ask Roddy or Ivan either, they're the same," he seemed to be telling the truth. Toris wondered if he should believe him. After a minute, he nodded.

"Alright. I'll believe you this time," Prussia smiled and started to speak. Toris held up a hand to stop him. "That doesn't mean I'm any less angry with you, or that I now want to talk to you. It would probably be a good idea if you found someone else to talk to," Prussia nodded. Without another word, he turned away, leaving Toris to his thoughts.

After a while, he came to a decision. The meeting was almost over, and it was almost time to go home. However, Toris wasn't going home. Not to stay, at least. He wasn't ready to go back and face the fact that Feliks couldn't remember him. Not only that, the after effects of the war- not to mention the 120 years of Russian occupation that had preceded it- was going to make money very tight. His best bet at this point was to go and stay with another country and work for them. After a couple more minutes of consideration, he decided America was his best chance. He'd entered the war more or less at the last minute, and hadn't been as badly affected by it. This meant he was richer and more prosperous than most of his allies. Not only that, he was a country that symbolised freedom and hope. He was also quite popular amongst Toris's people. Really, he was the best choice. Smiling, he stood up and went to look for him.

America was getting ready to leave. He was smiling, but Toris wondered if he meant it. After a moment, he cleared his throat. America faced him, and said something Toris couldn't understand. It sounded like a question, but he didn't know what it was.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" America just frowned in confusion. He hadn't understood either. This was going to make things a little complicated. Toris hadn't considered something like this. He knew quite a few different languages, but this wasn't one of them. America repeated what he'd said, but it still didn't make any sense.

"I don't understand you," he replied, shaking his head to try and confirm what he was saying. America frowned. Then he tried again in a tongue that had become slightly more familiar to Toris in the short time preceding the way, when Russia had been in an alliance with France.

"I said, did you want something?" at last, they had something to go on. Toris nodded, glad they had a way to communicate.

"I want to work. Are there any jobs available?" he'd probably gotten some of that wrong, but hopefully America would understand. Thankfully he did, and they started making plans for Toris to start work at America's house, cleaning up and doing chores. It was similar to what he'd had to do for Russia, except America- or Alfred, as he preferred Toris to call him- would pay him. By the time they were done, Toris was in a better mood than he had been in when he'd arrived.

Chapters

Chapter 1