Author Note: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers, Hetalia World Series, or Hetalia This Beautiful World. I wish I did, but, alas, I do not…
Any who~ Anyone will notice that I changed Feliks' eye-colour… I had to for it to match the story line. To anyone who did not notice, Poland's actual eye colour is green, like Atta's. I made it blue in the story.
Slight reference to Pol x Lith, but no actual evidence, just the fact that I love that pairing…
Now, enough of my rambling! To the story! (Sorry for any mistakes…) Oh… And I'm way super sorry for any feels throughout this story… :/
Feliks was a Polish 9 year old during the 25 degree Celsius (77 in Fahrenheit) August summer. It was 1942 and World War II was taking place. Feliks was a yellow blonde Jew with opaque blue eyes. The small village he lived in was in Southern Poland, along the Russian/Czechoslovakian boarder. The adults had just recently erected a new swing set for the children, one made of hard metal, unlike the rotting wooden one. This is where we find Feliks and his 7 year old sister, Atta. Atta also had the yarn coloured locks, only she had mossy green eyes.
Another boy was heading towards the two person swing set. He had chocolate brown hair and eyes the tone of dry soil. This boy has always lived in Poland; however, his parents came from the region now known as Lithuania. Toris, the brunette, and his family were not Jewish.
Atta, may I have the swing? Toris asked the question very politely.
No. Atta stuck out her little pick tongue and swung her feet.
Atta, get off. Toris and I want to play. Feliks did not like watching his little sister; he found her annoying and aggravating. He only watched her to help his extremely busy mother.
Atta scowled and jumped off the swing, she stalked over to a tree where a young, blonde, Catholic boy played with a set of jacks.
Feliks and Toris began to swing. Jump off! As far as you can! Feliks launched himself into the air, landing clumsily on his hands and knees. Laughing as his friend landed next to him. They continued this; swing as high as you can, launch, land, repeat.
After a few hours, the sun began to set, bathing the small village in an orange, peaceful glow. Toris' mother called for him to come in to clean up for supper. Toris begged for a few more minutes. She relented. The young brunette began to propel himself into the sky. A noise that resembled much like a clap rang throught the village. Toris gasped and Feliks jumped.
The Pole began to laugh. Haha! Silly us, getting scared like that! Feliks' laughter died off as Toris slumped and fell off the swing, landing awkwardly on his back. Toris! Feliks jumped from his swing and stumbled over to his dazed friend. Toris? The blonde boy fought back a sob as a dark and sticky liquid began to spread out beneath the brunette and stained his shirt. Oh! No! Feliks began to cry out for Toris' mother as a tall, blonde man loomed over the two boys.
Toris' mother screamed as the man in the German uniform with a swastika on his arm raised a small gun. Feliks has never found out the type of gun. The dying sun shone brightly off the silver barrel as the soldier pulled back on the trigger. Toris' blood splashed up onto Feliks' face as his gasps were ceased. More blonde haired, blue eyed Germans spilled out into the streets, firing their guns at anyone who was not a blonde.
The villagers ran franticly, trying to escape from death. It was a massacre. Bodies lay were fallen, blood flooded into the streets. After the Germans were certain only blondes remained in the village, the people were ordered to stand in a straight line. Feliks clung to his mother, Toris' blood still wet on his face and hands. The sun sank below the horizon; forcing the soldiers to use flashlights to find the colour of a villagers eyes. Toris' mother was sobbing, Jakob, Feliks' father supported her. She wailed.
My baby! My baby! Toris, my baby! Come back to me!
Nazis reached the five of them standing there. Feliks began to panic and scream as the light was shone into his mother's emerald eyes. Atta was hidden under her mother's large dress. She was discovered after the shooting of her mother.
Atta began to cry as the light was shone in her eyes
NO! Atta! I love you!
The shot rang out and Atta's cries were cut off. Jakob held Marium and Feliks, soothing them and rocking them. Shh… Shh… We are alright.
Hours passed and others were killed. German soldiers flanked the remaining villagers and ordered them to march. The people began to move down the trail towards a road that would lead them to the nearest town, over 25 miles away. Trees and darkness surrounded them. Crashes came from the village and Feliks looked up to see flames begin to eat away at his home. The smell of burning flesh, hair, and blood raised into the air. Feliks peered through the growing fire towards the swing set he had been on net even three hours ago. Toris' body lay near the slowly swaying swing.
His father whispered to him. Feliks, I will create a distraction. You and Marium are to sneak into the woods.
Marium grabbed Feliks' hand as Jakob tackled a guard and wrestled a gun from him. Marium pulled Feliks through the thick trees, leading him into the underbrush. They ran until they could run no more, slowing down to a walk. Marium picked up the child as he began to stagger and she struggled on. This continued until sunrise. Marium and Feliks found a tall and thick tree, climbed it, and slept.
They continued this for days. Marium did not know the vegetation or berries, and she had to rely on animals to lead them to safe food. After almost five days of fleeing, the trees thinned out into a field of sunflowers.
Who are you people? A little boy who had been playing in the field approached them, a look of apprehension on his face. Neither Marium nor Feliks responded. They were not being rude, they boy spoke Russian and they did not understand him. An older girl came over.
Hello?
Feliks began to cry. He was scared and lost and covered in his family's blood and he missed Toris. He cried this all out in his childish Polish, tears streaking his filthy face.
Polish? You are Polish? The girl spoke to her brother in rapid Russian and he ran towards a house across the field. Come with me. Marium, although weary and beaten, lifted Feliks up and carried him to the house where a large, robust woman stood holding blankets. She wrapped one around the little boy and handed him off to her husband, as she began to talk to Marium.
When Feliks awoke, the woman named Ida led him to a steaming bath. Ida's son, Ivan was the same size as Feliks, so the cloths fit him well. The family nursed the Poles back to health, only asking that they help around the house in return.
A few months went by and Marium explained how they were going to America to flee the war. They began to pack their bags that night, and in the morning, they bid their farewells in choppy Russian. Feliks slept through the entire night's flight.
… 20 years later
Feliks laughed as his young child gripped the arms on the seat on the airplane. "Toris, your mama would be proud." The young brunette looked up at his father with the same dry soil eyes as his childhood friend and smiled. The plane came to a stop on the hot tarmac of the strip at an airport on the Czechoslovakian boarder. Feliks was returning to his childhood home, not to live, only to visit and reminisce. He had looked into it, and it seemed no one returned the desolate place. Through 53 miles of woods was the village.
A cab was able to take them most of the way, only stopping around three miles away due to fallen trees. Feliks did not mind, he remembered the long walk with Marium, who he came to love as family, on their way to Russia. Toris knew this walk was not for talking; instead he looked up at the leaves on the trees. They found a small pond in woods and stopped to eat some lunch, careful to leave behind no garbage.
The duo arrived at the village, most of the houses had burned to the ground and whatever may have remained was now rotted and depleting. Feliks led the small child to the swings, completely covered in vines now. He knelt on the ground where his friend had died and looked at his son with tears in his eye. "Toris, my child. Here, right in this spot is where my beloved childhood friend's life was taken. I gave you his name, and you look so much like him."
Toris did not respond, allowing his father to feel the pain that he kept inside.
A slight breeze blew the rusted swing slightly and Feliks could hear his friend's laughter.