Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Chapter 1: The Goddess of Marriage

"So, what am I going to do with you now?"

Graecia calmly met her captor's gaze, never flinching under the piercing intensity of those amber lights that seemed to glow with a blazing fire intent on destroying all in its path. Her own teal eyes betrayed not a single emotion, her face rearranged into a neutral expression that could offer her captor no clue into her thoughts.

"You have emerged the victor in our feud," she replied quietly. "As stated in our laws, I am now your property. You may do with me as you wish. Kill me, enslave me, release me, you hold power over my life, my existence. I merely await your decision."

He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head quizzically, the face of the conqueror replaced by a young man's, one who knew little of the world. "You're taking this really, really well," he observed. She noted the hint of curiosity in his voice and smiled bitterly in her heart. [Once a fool, always a fool. The games we play...] she whispered inwardly. [So obvious, so blunt...]

Stepping off his throne, he advanced towards her until he was right in front of her. Crouching down to her eye level, he peered into her eyes questioningly. "You don't even seem angry at all." Graecia made no comment, but secretly she felt the sting of humiliation lash against her. How could she have lost to such an idiot, she didn't know.

His hand reached forward and cupped her face towards him. The rough skin spoke of a soldier, the calluses testimony to a life of battle and blood. Graecia skin was smooth and unmarred by both defect and the sun, identifying herself as a woman mainly confined running the household.

And just as sudden as he had put on one mask and removed the other, he quickly snatched his hand away. Almost in fear, she wondered. His hands were trembling slightly, and she could see that although she was the one on the ground, he was clearly nervous. Nervous about what, she didn't know.

By now though, his arrogance and smugness had returned. He folded his arms in front of his chest and spoke out aloud, "You caused me a lot of troubles Graecia. Seriously, you should've known to surrender when the attack first started. After all, what can a woman do in battle? You should've been at home, weaving or cooking or something like that."

Greecia kept her posture and her head held up high. [So today is truly going to be the day that the Fates cut my thread...] Briefly, she felt a flash of regret. She too, had once been in her captor's position, and many had begged for their lives. Now the shoe was on the other foot. Poetic justice, she supposed. But if there was one thing left to her, it was her dignity and her pride. And she will not beg. Not to this young upstart who had brute strength but no brains to wield it.

"But I'm not going to kill you."

Graecia maintained her silence, but this time, she was curious. [Why not kill me?] she thought. [I am one of his greatest enemies, slayer of his father. I am a threat to him, best neutralized as fast as possible. What possible reason...?]

And then the answer came to her, the horrible reply.

He bent down and pulled her up by her dress with one hand roughly. Without a moment's notice, he pressed his lips onto hers and kissed her passionately, devouring her mouth ravenously. Graecia felt her disgust and shame overflow from within, and it was only with immense self-control did she manage to prevent herself from fighting back. His other hand searched her body, her hair, her neck, going nearly everywhere. She struggled to swallow back her nausea. He was touching her, touching her so disgracefully. Without her permission. No man had ever done such atrocities to her before! No one had laid even so much as a finger on her flesh without a word from her!

When his hand started to slip inside her dress, and his fingers just lightly stroked the top of her breast, she decided she had had enough.

She shoved him away with all her strength, breaking their kiss and his wandering hands away from her body. She didn't need to scream, to shout or to say anything. Her eyes, once dead, now sparked alive with fury and wrath, delivered her unspoken words. She may be weak now, but if he thought to do such a thing to her, he was wrong to assume that she was just going to take it just like that.

All he did was to just smirk back at her. "That's fine. I can get more later if I want." She didn't like the way he spoke with such casual ease and confidence, simply because it was true. Before she could move, his hand grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to face him once again. The dark look in his eyes coupled with the wolfish grin that he wore sent a chill down her spine as he proclaimed his sentence upon her.

"Hera, starting tonight, you will be my wife."

A flicker of fear escaped her, and from the look of victory on his face, she knew that he had finally cracked her emotional barrier. She had no more defences anymore, no more army. Her philosophers, all her learning, all her arts, nothing could save her now.

She was totally in the mercy of Rome.

Graecia is Ancient Greece, and her human name is Hera, who was the Goddess of Marriage in Ancient Greek mythology. Obviously, she's not too happy to be with Rome. "Slayer of his father" references Troy. Supposedly, some survivors from Troy escaped and started up Rome. Seems more likely to me than the wolf mum story. So yes, Troy is Rome's father. I realise this makes Graecia much older than Rome, but more on this later.