I don't own Hetalia! end/AN/

Mongolia seemed very proud of his ger. It was a sort of felt tent, round and with smoke rising from a hole in the center. He hopped down from his horse as though they hadn't just ridden days to get there. "This is where we'll live, when I'm not busy. I get very busy this time of year," he said cheerily, flashing a huge grin at Tibet.

Tibet eased off of the horse. His legs were killing him, and his rump felt like it had been pelted with rocks. He gingerly stepped forward, feeling like he would fall over at any moment. "Oh? It's nice…"

This seemed to be the right thing to say, because Mongolia grinned wider. "I made it myself. And look, look! I have tea, and silk, and lots of nice things for you to have!"

He'd already ducked into the ger and reappeared with the goods in his arms. His eyes were positively sparkling, as he held the luxury goods like prizes. Technically, they probably were war prizes or something of the sort.

"Thank you," Tibet said gently, "They're lovely."

Mongolia nodded, and ducked back into the ger. He reappeared moments later, face more serious. "Do you know how to milk a mare?"

"Um… no, I can't say I do," Tibet admitted, a sudden dread coming over him. He had no idea how to live the nomad life; how was he supposed to adapt? Mongolia probably expected him to take care of the herds of animals while he was gone. That was what Mongolian wives did, wasn't it?

In his petrified silence, Mongolia had already taken the time to unsaddle his horse, and pat its flank appreciatively. "Horses," he said by way of conversation, "What would we do without them?"

"Yes," Tibet managed, as if he understood loving a horse more than a person. At least, that was what he concluded was the case with Mongolia, as he affectionately stroked his horse's mane.

It seemed his monosyllabic answer sounded wrong to Mongolia, because he turned around, a concerned expression on his face. "You are okay, aren't you? You look fine."

"Yes, I'm okay. I just… it's very different from Tibet." He was trying to be neutral, not show how terrifying this whole thing was.

But Mongolia came over, very hesitantly putting both his hands on Tibet's cheeks. His eyes stared straight into Tibet's, as he said, with a gentle voice seemingly reserved for his horse, "You're my wife now. I'm going to make sure you're happy."

"Of course," Tibet said, feeling his face heat up.

Mongolia released his face, and beamed at him. "Now, you have to see the inside of my ger! It's sort of smoky, but cozy."

Tibet followed him in, and wondered if this whole thing was going to last, or if Mongolia would get bored with him.

/AN/ This is actually really fun to write. I hope you all are liking it so far (all ten of you, ha ha); no extra history in this chapter.