I'm back with a new part in the Historical Hetalia series!
Cross Your Heart will follow Prussia throughout history, from the early Middle Ages to the late 19th century. The beginning, however, will be more about him figuring out certain things than actual history (because of the lack of clear sources I unfortunately have, for one), but once I don't have to study a month to write one proper chapter, it will be filled with more history as well.
The lay-out will be a bit different from my previous stories, as there is quite a number of centuries that I have to fit into this fic, and even if every chapter represented a year, I wouldn't be done in years. I figured this would work best with time skips like there will be in this story, to make it less confusing.

Still, historically accurate enough or not, I hope you'll like this story. I'll do my best!
It's part 3 of Historical Hetalia, but part 1 and 2 (Rising&Trouble) deal with Irish history and have nothing to do with this story, so they can easily be read seperately. There might be some overlap when it comes to characters or certain events mentioned, but if you haven't read either Rising or Trouble, you'll be just fine. I'll make sure it won't get confusing

Well, I've rambled on enough now... Let's start off with my latest fanfic: Cross Your Heart

1 August 1211

I decided it's best if I keep practicing my writing wherever I go, so I assembled an empty book for me to write in. I've seen too many hands grow rusty as they held only a sword and no quill. I will not let that happen to me -the ability to write and read is a gift bestowed upon me, and I will not let it go to waste.
So I have hereby decided to keep a daily record of my travels and crusades. It is also a useful way for me to remember important details of my journeys, and to report back to the headquarters in Acre whenever necessary.
So, as a report of my travels: we left the headquarters in Acre 9 days ago, going north. We were asked to aid the Hungarians in their battle against the Kipchaks. Well, I'm happy to -since it is mercenary work, there will be a reward, and the Order needs such things now. Also, since we're travelling to the north, I'm getting closer to my birthplace -or so I was told. I honestly don't remember. All I know is that, 19 years ago, I was given to this Order to be looked after by the knights by my father. He was, apparently, an honourable person, and highly esteemed, else they wouldn't have accepted me.

And that brings me to the second topic I wish to write about. My appearance and in fact entire biology seems to startle the other knights still, even after they've raised me and, in some cases, spent the last few years growing up side by side with me.
But though I am 19 years old, I don't look the part. 7 is what most people estimate me as. 8 perhaps. Why is it, that I am a man, yet look like a child? And not only a child -I look like a demon, or so I've been told. A ghost. But the point is, I don't feel like I am a monster, a demon, a creature from Hell, as my pale complexion and red eyes seem to suggest.
I've heard other knights talk about me, spreading rumours of other people that look like me. They don't grow very old, either, but for entirely different reasons -they die before they reach adulthood, in most cases. Either they'd be killed for their demonic appearance or they'd burn in the sunlight, dying of a strange illness. But none of that has happened to me yet.
So, since I look this unusual, and also do not grow old at a normal pace and don't die of the mysterious illness killing off other people like me... are they right? Am I a demon? I do not know, and also do not think I'll ever know.
For now I should be grateful that I was granted the chance to live, and serve the Lord to the best of my abilities. And I should focus on my current task -to defend the Kingdom of Hungary.

"Gilbert, are you done writing?" called a man in his late twenties, wearing a long white mantle with a black cross on it. The signature attire of the Teutonic Knights. The boy looked up, nodded, put away his ink and quill, lastly put his book in his bag, and ran after the rest of his Order. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly. "I've decided to write daily -keep a record of what we encounter on our journeys."
The man laughed and patted the boy on the head. "That's very nice, Gilbert. I'm sure the Grand Master would appreciate your efforts."
"Well," Gilbert huffed, having clearly heard the sarcasm in the older man's voice. "I have been taught to write, and I'm not planning on letting my skills get rusty anytime soon. That would just be ungrateful."
"Then I hope you have enough parchment to last you through the journey," was the man's only response. Gilbert huffed again, but he wasn't angry. This man, Frederick, was one of his favourites among the knights. Though in truth he was only 9 years older, the man was a bit like a father to him, or an older brother at least. Whatever they said and did to each other was more teasing than anything else, and they rarely got angry with each other. Other than with some of the men, who distrusted and even despised Gilbert for all the reasons he'd written down in his journal. But even so, they all travelled and fought alongside each other without too many problems. Gilbert had been given the formal attire of a Teutonic Knight years ago, and a blacksmith in Acre had been ordered to smith him a miniature sword -its size somewhere between that of an actual sword and a dagger. He'd tried to fight using Frederick's sword once, but it was too long and, though he didn't like admitting that part, too heavy for his small body to work with. He was clumsy and stumbled with every movement. But even so, once provided with a dagger, he'd proved to be an agile, skilled warrior, and was thus given a weapon of his own by the Grand Master of their Order.

"We'll be in Turkic territory by tomorrow," Gilbert inquired after a few minutes of silence, "won't we?" Frederick nodded. And from there on, Gilbert thought, it's 3 weeks, roughly, until we reach Greece. After that, we should reach the Southern border of Hungary within 2 weeks. Well, that should be managable. A total of little less than 7 weeks until they reached Hungary. They had enough provisions for that, and once they reached Hungary, they should be provided with more to last them through the battles yet to be fought. When he spoke his estimation out loud, Frederick, and some other men, too, laughed softly, but they didn't even try to correct him.

26 October 1211

Okay, so my estimations were horribly wrong. Following my calculations, we should've arrived in Hungary by late September, instead of just yesterday -when we were so busy travelling to King Andrew II and his army that I didn't find the time to write.
But that doesn't matter. We're here now, aren't we? In just a few days we'll be ready to do our job and defend Hungary.
Speaking of Hungary, something very odd happened early this afternoon when we met with King Andrew II and his army...

Gilbert and the Teutonic Knights had just arrived, and the three elder members of the Order were discussing business with the Hungarian king, while he and the others settled. Some Hungarian knights were there, too, giving them directions, some making small talk with the Teutonics to get to know their new allies. Gilbert had noticed for some time now a young boy, hardly a year or 2 older than himself (well, his appearance at least) among them, and for a moment he thought the boy was just lost, or helping out an older brother or his father, one of the knights. Perhaps he was an apprentice. He had also noticed the stares that boy gave him, and every time he saw him staring he turned away, feeling his cheeks grow hot with embarassment. That's why he hated meeting new people -no one could ever treat him normally! He was waiting for protests from the Hungarians about why the Teutonic Knights had a demon in their ranks. So far they had kept quiet, but that boy wasn't the only one sending him weird stares.
"I don't like it here," he complained softly to Frederick, who was helping him set up a tent. The man just smiled understandingly, and said nothing. "They're all looking at me..." Gilbert huffed. "No doubt wondering which sort of exorcism they'll need to get rid of me."
"They're not that bad, I'm sure," Frederick reassured him gently. "Once they know you're one of us, they'll treat you just as anyone else does."
"Oh, because that would make me sooo happy!" Gilbert muttered, and then he sighed, apologizing for his mood. He was tired after the long months of travelling, and how the other people treated him right now wasn't helping.

"Hey!" suddenly came a voice behind him, and he jumped in shock. Spinning around, he saw the Hungarian boy standing before him with a sheepish grin and twinkling green eyes. "You're a pretty weird kid, aren't you?" the boy then said, making Gilbert's mood a million times worse. But the boy smiled despite his harsh words, continuing, "How'd you get red eyes like that? And your hair is white! That's so... weird. But I like it."
"Well," Gilbert muttered in response, taken aback by this. "T-thanks." He heard Frederick chuckle, but the man didn't say anything.
"So, are you an apprentice?" the boy asked him, and he shook his head. "Oh! You're already a knight, then!" Gilbert nodded, determined to keep his mouth shut. He really didn't want to talk to this nosy kid. "How old are you?"
"I'm 19 years old," he mumbled softly, and the boy asked him again, adding that he hadn't heard. But then Gilbert didn't dare answer anymore, relieved that he hadn't been heard. Telling these people his actual age was the best way to antagonize them, most likely. They wouldn't understand.
"Well," the boy said, standing tall and proud for a moment. "I'm already 316 years old!" Gilbert spun around to face him again after he'd fastened a piece of the tent he was setting up. Was this kid insane or what? "I was born in the year 895. And you?"
"I-in 1192," Gilbert stammered in response, still eyeing the boy curiously. Yes, he must be insane. No one was that old. But the boy then stared at him with the same wide-eyed curiosity as he did the boy, a strange sparkle in his eyes that Gilbert couldn't quite figure out. "Wow, you're young. Anyway, my name's Hungary. Nice to meet you!"
For a moment, Gilbert could only stare at this weird boy, and his voice wouldn't come to him. When it did, it came a bit louder than he'd wanted it to. "H-Hungary?!" he exclaimed, taking a step away from the boy. "You can't be Hungary! Hungary is a kingdom!"
"But I am," Hungary insisted, tilting his head a little, surprised at Gilbert's shock. "And I know I'm a kingdom. I've been one since the year-"
"-since the year 1000," Gilbert choked out, interrupting him. Hungary nodded, saying that from the day of his birth until Christmas 1000, he'd been a principality instead. The young Teutonic Knight stared at him, gaping, choking out random sounds. No, right? He couldn't be serious.
"Well," Hungary then said, shuffling on his feet a bit and looking over his shoulder. "I really should be heading to the King now -he'll need me for arrangements. I'll see you around, won't I...?" Just when he'd turned around to leave, he looked over his shoulder questioningly. "What's your name?" For a moment, Gilbert still couldn't talk, but then choked out his name. Hungary laughed softly at his tone, then waved and ran away. "Well, see you later then, Gilbert!"

"Well, Gilbert," came Frederick's amused voice a few seconds after Hungary disappeared from sight. "I think you'll have a new friend here, after all." Gilbert spun around and faced his old friend, seething with anger and confusement. "I'm not going to be friends with that insane kid!" he protested. "Never!"
Frederick shrugged. "Pity. He's the only one that has bothered to talk to you yet, and he seems friendly enough. Though I agree that he's a little weird. It must've been a joke, don't worry." Silently, the two continued working again, finishing setting up this tent quickly and then moving on to the next. By the time the sun set, the camp was ready, and a fire was lit, around which the Teutonic Knights gathered as they were given orders by the Hungarian king and their elder members. But Gilbert was hardly listening. His mind was with Hungary, or whatever the boy was called. He must be insane, because his eyes had looked honest when he'd told Gilbert his name and age. He really believed that he was 316 years old, and that he was the Kingdom of Hungary. He saw the boy sitting a little way off, and his stomach twisted when he saw that he sat beside King Andrew. He was of really high status, to sit beside his monarch...

The evening passed and night fell, and Gilbert was about to go into a tent to write in his journal and go to sleep, when he heard an already achingly familiar voice call him. A shiver going down his spine, he turned around and saw Hungary approaching him. "Hey," the Hungarian boy greeted Gilbert, though with less enthusiasm than that afternoon. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" Reluctantly, Gilbert nodded, saying they should go into a tent to talk. Hungary's presence chilled him more than the night air did, and he dreaded every footstep he heard behind him. He didn't want to look over his shoulder and see this weird kid, but then he suddenly realised something. This must be how other people felt around him, too. Knowing this, he felt sick for a few heartbeats, but then he calmed. People were weird around him, too, but he was perfectly normal. He should probably give this kid a chance.
Once inside, they sat down, and Gilbert lit a candle. The light of the flame falling into Hungary's eyes made them appear almost as red as Gilbert's own, and that somehow made him feel better. In here, right now, they were equals.
"Gilbert," Hungary began in utter seriousness, staring the young knight in the eyes. "Gilbert, do your wounds heal quickly? Quicker than those of other knights?" Startled, Gilbert nodded. How did this boy know about that? Had one of the elders talked about him? "Then," Hungary went on, his voice quivering a little, "do you sometimes feel weird pains as well? A-at times you wouldn't expect to feel pain?" Again, Gilbert nodded, explaining how other knights passed it off as growing pains. But he knew it wasn't -he hadn't really been growing for some time now. Hungary gave a solemn nod, falling silent for just a moment. "You're 19 years old, right?" he eventually went on, and again Gilbert confirmed this. "But you look like a little kid, just like me..." His eyes lit up as he got an idea, apparently, because he turned to Gilbert and began fidgeting in excitement. "Gilbert!" he exclaimed. "Could you cut me? A small cut in my hand would be enough."
"What?" the Teutonic Knight choked out, thoroughly confused. "You want me to cut you?" Hungary only nodded and held out his hand. Reluctantly, Gilbert grabbed his small sword and drew it carefully over the palm of the boy's hand. Together they watched blood ooze out of the small cut, but unlike Gilbert's, who was baffled by all this, Hungary's eyes began shining as the blood kept weling up. "The wound won't close!" he exclaimed. "I knew it!"
"Knew what?" Gilbert inquired carefully. He didn't know what to think right now.
Hungary turned back to stare at him with twinkling eyes and a broad smile. "You're like me, Gilbert! You're an immortal!" Gilbert's blood ran cold at those words, and he stared at the boy in horror. "You're a country!"

"I'm a what?"

And that concludes the first chapter of Cross Your Heart.
I will try to update weekly, but even if I don't, no worries. I will not abandon this story anytime soon. I will continue to write even if it takes some time.

I hope you liked it so far, and please leave a little review to tell me what you think!