DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA

Warnings: gratuitous German, historical inaccuracies, minor artistic license on Roman solders, OCs, cursing at the end

Timetalia — Memory Lane

Chapter 3

His mind felt blank, empty; his body floating around in the darkness. He did not know what was happening nor why was it happening. It was disconcerting, the feeling as if he had his soul split from his body then put back. Did they even have souls? He did not know. All he currently knew was that he was feeling something uncomfortable, as if he had something similar to vertigo. But his head wasn't whirling in nausea. It was just… there. Floating. Its lightness making his sense of balance odd.

Then flashes of images manifested from nowhere. A room that was familiar. One that they used for their meetings, in fact. Eight – no, nine more people were there. There was something… a sense of excitement. Something…

Then something hit his body and his eyes opened wide open, his body then lurching forward as he coughed. That something hit his stomach and it hurt. Well, not that he wasn't used to getting hurt. He had to, given their roles in the world.

"Oi, you're awake."

Germany had to cough a few more times before looking up at the man who spoke. Said man was also most likely the one that hit him. That thought made him frown. However, what mostly caught his attention was the fact that the man was speaking German, his language.

He decided to ask in Standard German, "Who are you?" He knew that this man wasn't one of his people. Nor was it one of Switzerland's, for the dialect did not seem to be Swiss German. It didn't sound like Austrian German either. But he needed to hear the man speak more before he could confirm. For now, he couldn't get a good view yet, as his eyes were still adjusting to the light. "Where am I?"

His eyes finally adjusted to the light, Germany finally got a good view of the man. The man was actually a soldier. But it wasn't the kind of soldier that Germany was used to. It was the kind of soldier that his bruder, Prussia, seemed to tell him about when reminiscing about his old days.

The man wore armour that seemed to be made from strips of iron and leather. He was wearing a metal helmet and carried a rectangular shield that looked like it was made of wood and leather. For footwear, he wore sandals with iron studs. There were two weapons on his body, one was a sheathed sword and the other was a javelin that he held in his hand. Germany deduced that the javelin's blunt end must've what the man used to hit him awake.

The armour looked familiar, but Germany's memory was still muddled not only from the sudden awakening, but also from the days of constant stress as a Nation.

"You are in the lands of Britannia," the man replied as he stepped back, giving Germany more space to breathe. "And I believe it should be I that should ask: who are you? What is you and your companion's name and what are you doing here?"

At his words, Germany frowned. Britannia? Did he mean Britain? But Germany was sure England and the rest of the UK did not have soldiers like this. And companion? What did the man mean by that? And now that the man spoke more, Germany confirmed that the man was speaking Standard German, and that made Germany a little unsure.

For now, Germany decided to play safe. "My name is Ludwig and I am a traveler." He then decided to ask about the companion in a fashion where he wouldn't sound suspicious. "And my companion?"

"Your companion is with the others." He looked behind him, where Germany saw a small congregation of more soldiers, about four. "Oi, Ahenobarbus! Flavius! Calvus! Tacitus!" What odd names. "Bring the other man here!"

The four men saluted in affirmation.

While the men were getting his 'companion', Germany decided to get a view of his surroundings. He noticed that they were not in a civilization but rather in a forest. It made him frown as he did not know why or where he was there. The last thing he remembered was that he was in a World Meeting… but he couldn't even remember the details of the meeting itself.

It made Germany's frown deeper. He always remembered to keep track of the meeting and all the topics, even the ridiculous ones that were usually brought up by America. For him to forget what happened in the World Meeting and somehow end up in a forest with medieval soldiers? Impossible. But it happened. Germany rubbed his forehead in exasperation. There was that business with the Pictonians before and now another mysterious occurrence. Why do they, the Nations, always get into this kind of mess? Well, it was better them than their people but still...

Germany refused to even think of the fact that he may possibly be the only Nation in this mess. As Italy told him before, think positive. Or was that him quoting Spain?

With a loud grunt, the men finally dragged the person they called his companion. Germany's eyes widened as the 'companion' was indeed actually someone he knew. And someone who would not appreciate getting dragged and pushed to the ground.

His 'companion' still looked unconscious, his usually well-kept blond hair now a mess as well as his expensive clothes. Germany sighed as he knew that he would not like that and Germany did not want to face an angry France.

"So, he is your companion after all," the man from earlier said. "But, I do not believe you are travelers."

Germany tensed, but he tried to reply, "Why do you not –"

"Believe?" Germany nodded. "We know the fashion in the continent and in many places. Your outfits do not fit any of those. And I refuse to believe that you came here from somewhere else for you bear features of someone from the continent. Your companion looks like he is from Gaul, yet that outfit of his does not match of what I know of Gaul's fashion."

Gaul? Germany felt like he had heard the name before (most likely from Prussia) but France looking like a person from Gaul? Maybe it was possible that the Nation of Gaul was France's parent? No, he couldn't make such conjectures at this point. For all he knew, he was in a different world or something. Wasn't America talking about that the other day with Japan?

Germany shook away those thoughts. First, he had to make up an excuse. He was in an unknown land and he didn't factor in their outfits. He was still wearing his standard military uniform while France was wearing his blue robe-like outfit. They were obviously suspicious, no matter what world or era he claimed to be a traveler. It was a stupid decision.

But just as Germany opened his mouth, a voice spoke.

"Where… am I?" It was France. But Germany found it odd that he was speaking in German. It sounded weird to his ears, hearing the crisp language of German with France's nasal French accent.

"Francis," Germany called to him using France's human name. That would make the recently conscious Nation realize that they were in the company of humans.

Fortunately, France got the hint and asked him, "Ludwig? Where are we?" The German still sounded weird. "A forest? Wha – What happened to my clothes! My beautiful clothes!" France then touched his hair, which had a few leaves on it. "My magnificent hair!"

"Francis, calm down." He did not want to deal with a hair-ruined France. Unlike Romano who was the same when any of his expensive designer outfits were ruined in even the smallest way, France had the ability to really beat him down. Although in all honesty, Romano's verbal attacks were not weak at all… how was related to Italy again?

Not that he could speak. Because, Prussia.

"Calm down? Calm down?!" France was slowly hyperventilating. "My beautiful golden locks are ruined! Ruined, I say!"

"We can clean it up later. For now, we're in a situation," Germany sighed. Why was always stuck with the most overdramatic Nations?

France threw his hands up into the air, "This is a situation!"

Germany gave another exasperated sigh. "Fine, I'll buy you the best shampoo later. For now, shall we stand up? Or do you want your trousers to be covered in more dirt?"

Hearing this, France immediately stood up, Germany following him. As they stood up, he heard chuckles and snickers and Germany suddenly remembered the existence of the soldiers. They were probably making fun of France and his overdramatics. Germany frowned at that and wanted to defend his fellow Nation, despite their differences.

"Huh, who is snickering there?" France finally saw the soldiers. But Germany did not expect his reaction. France's eyes bulged and he stepped back. "R-Romans!"

And then it clicked in Germany's mind. Right, the armor looked like Roman armor. But why was he in a land – Britannia, they said – with Roman soldiers?

"Oh? Seems like someone here's scared of Romans," one of the soldiers sneered. It was a man with a large brown beard.

Another one of the soldiers spoke up, this one was a bald man who wasn't wearing his helmet. "What, scared for your hair, pretty boy?"

"Worried for your pretty golden locks?" One of the men, who wasn't wearing his helmet as well and actually did have golden hair, spoke, his eyebrows raised. Meanwhile the one beside him, a quiet-looking man, chuckled.

Germany wanted them to stop because he could see France's hands clenching into fists. Germany did not want to see a fight. He also disapproved of the soldiers as they seem to lack discipline, compared to their presumed leader, the man from earlier.

And the man seemed to have the same opinion as him as he spoke, "Silence." His tone was harsh and stern, causing the soldiers to stand at attention. Perhaps they were well-disciplined. Germany's opinion of the man increased. He was able to silence his soldier with a word. Germany wished he could do the same to Italy, or better, Romano and Prussia.

The man then removed his helmet, revealed messy red hair underneath. "I apologize for their behavior. And as you have introduced yourselves, Ludwig and Francis, I shall introduce ourselves as well. I am Rufus. These are my men." He gestured at the four men. "Ahenobarbus is the one with the brown beard; Flavius, with the same golden hair as your companion; Calvus, who does not have hair – he's bald; and last but not the least, Tacitus. Tacitus is a quiet man hence do not expect him to reply other than via gestures."

Tacitus nodded, but he still looked like he wanted to give France a snicker and smirk. Germany had learned from experience with Norway and many other similar Nations that quiet was not equal to shy or kind. Tacitus' look didn't really affect Germany, although France raised an eyebrow, possibly challenging the Roman or was just offended.

"Anyway," Rufus coughed, "I shall ask once more: who are you and why are you here in the lands of Britannia?"

Germany and France glanced at each other. They had human names, yes, but Germany wasn't sure what to give as a reason to why they were there. After all, he himself didn't know how they were in this… Britannia place. His first attempt at making an excuse also failed and that's that. Germany honestly didn't know how to get out of this situation.

France seemed to have an idea though, as he started to speak. "Well, Herr Rufus, my name is Francis Bonnefoy. And this is my companion Ludwig." He gave a flamboyant gesture towards Germany. "I am going to be completely honest, Herr Rufus. We ourselves do not know why we are here in Britannia and why are we wearing these… outfits. You see, Ludwig and I had been old friends. I am a traveler from Gaul. I was visiting Germania at the time and well, I met Herr Ludwig here. Ah, it was fate perhaps? Such is fate, allowing two people from distant countries to meet and have a friendship bloom between them! Isn't it interesting, Herr?"

Rufus nodded, seemingly captured by France's story. The other soldiers also looked curious, watching the man weave a fabricated story of "destined friendship" between him and Germany. Meanwhile, Germany didn't know whether to be surprised at France still speaking in German or be impressed at France's lying skills. Granted, lying was bad but it does help in crucial moments. Germany was certainly impressed that France was able to weave a story this quickly, even though some parts – particularly the last parts – were something Germany would do without.

But anyways, Germany listened carefully to France's story. After all, it would be better if they didn't contradict each other when asked. Perhaps when they're alone, Germany could go on the finer details of their backstory just in case they run into more Roman soldiers.

On the other hand, France was finishing up his story. "…alas his brother refused to come. Dear Gilbert was a nice man. I befriended him quite well, although not as much as Ludwig here." His face was so sad that Germany almost believed that he was saying the truth.

No. You're closer to my brother. And you two along with Spain give me and the rest of Europe, maybe even the world, headaches.

Despite those thoughts, Germany knew he had a role to play. So, he also forced a sad frown, remembering that he was supposed to feel sad about leaving his brother in Germania. Then again, if Germany had to leave the country, like for World Meetings, he felt more reassured when his brother didn't follow him. That was because Prussia meeting up with any other troublesome Nation – basically everybody – is chaos, headaches and Germany's need for a beer.

"…and so began our journey. However, perhaps we may had passed out." France gave a small frown. "I do not remember much of yesterday or even earlier. I do not even know how we got here and why I am wearing… these," he gestured to his currently dirty robes as if they were something reprehensible, "so… I hope that answers your questions?"

"I believe so, yes." Rufus nodded, yet his eyes narrowed. "You do not really remember how you got here? Both of you?"

Germany and France both nodded. Germany even added, "Herr Rufus, I assure you I have good memory. However, I don't even remember what I was doing before."

Rufus gave them suspicious looks that were matched by his men. Germany didn't blame them. If he was in their shoes, he would've been suspicious as well. If they weren't, Germany would've been disappointed with their naivety. They were good soldiers – cautious and guarded. He approved of their wariness.

"Hm. I cannot say that I could trust you," Rufus muttered. "Therefore I believe I should take you to someone."

"Someone?" France interrupted. "Who?"

Rufus frowned. "An important man. Your… situation, if you are speaking of the truth, is curious. And also something we have to take a note of. I have to report it."

Ahenobarbus then spoke up, his voice gruff, "Decanus." Germany didn't recognize what word had just been said. "We can't abandon this mission..."

Flavius nodded. "Yes, Rufus. Remember what he said: "This mission is of absolute importance.". If we fail, who knows what would happen?"

"Another thing," Calvus added his two cents, "we can't just suddenly stop because of them. You do know that right, Rufus? Right?" His tone became quite harsh at the end, Germany noted.

Beside Calvus, Tacitus was giving Rufus a look that Germany couldn't interpret.

"I know." Despite his tone, Rufus' face didn't show any signs of looking troubled. "But the rest of the contubernium is also out searching. I suppose we could – "

"Rufus!" Calvus hissed.

Flavius then poked Calvus at the side with the blunt end of his javelin. "Calvus, respect."

Calvus gave the golden-haired Flavius a dark glare, his blue eyes narrowing. "Respect? Sure, I will give Rufus respect if he stops daddling around! I don't even know why we picked him as decanus if he keeps being indecisive like this." He clicked his tongue.

With those words, the rest of the men except Rufus gave Calvus a harsh glare. Germany saw France slowly becoming uncomfortable with the tension. Germany didn't really blame him. The tension was so thick that he could shoot through it with his pistol. He didn't also approve of what was happening. From what he could see, despite not understanding the terms used, Calvus didn't approve of their leader. But so far, all Germany could see is that Rufus was a good leader who could keep his men in line. He didn't see why Calvus disliked him.

"Calvus." Rufus' tone was cold as his eyes stared at Calvus. "I understand if you do not appreciate my ideas – or rather, just appreciate my presence in general. However, I suggest that you keep yourself disciplined. You're acting like a petulant child that can't let go of a grudge, not a soldier." The sharp words looked like they physically cut Calvus, who looked hurt and offended at the same time.

"Fine." After that, Calvus' expression morphed into stern blankness. Germany felt that it looked like an odd mix of his and Japan's expressions.

Rufus turned back to Germany and France. Both of the Nations were looking quite awkward, their eyes not knowing where to look and their auras screaming awkwardness. After all, the change from what to do with the two of them to in-fighting was so sudden it felt like whiplash. Germany merely tried to look normal and he could see France doing the same.

"I apologize. As for what actions we are going to take – "

But before Rufus could speak, Germany heard rustles of leaves and voices. He saw the soldiers stand on guard and he himself did so as well. France also looked wary and cautious. But as the rustling got closer, Germany recognized the familiar voices, even though they were speaking in his native tongue. He felt his body subconsciously relax, his guard lowering.

"…and so bruder smashed the pasta into his face!"

"He what? Hmph, as expected of you... you crude man." The second voice was unfamiliar, yet it sounded childish.

"What the fuck do you mean by that, huh, you brat?! Besides, that potato bastard deserved that! No wait – he didn't deserve it!"

"Have you finally accepted him bruder?"

"Hell no! What I meant was that it was a complete waste of pasta! That fucker didn't deserve that plate of pasta! I should've shoved a bowl of potatoes to his face instead. Shitty potatoes to his shitty face – hah, now that's better!"

"Ehhh?! You're right, bruder! It was a waste of pasta!"

"Aha, you finally get it bruder!"

"…I'm surrounded by fools."

And when the three people went into sight, a small smile appeared on Germany's face. Well, perhaps he and France weren't alone in this after all.

"Feli?" He made sure to say his human name.

Bright eyes – recognition. "Ludwig!"

A/N: As said in prologue, NO PAIRINGS. The last part is merely reuniting friends after a terrifying (in Italy's case) scenario. There's no GerIta romance here. Just GerIta bromance (aka platonic friendship).

As for historical info... the smallest group in a Roman legion is the contubernium. The contubernium is composed of eight members. Although some had also said that it's composed of ten. I'm using ten members for the contubernium here (for an even split of five-five for the search party) because a contubernium's leader, a decanus, means "leader of ten" or something similar. Anyway, from what I've looked up, a decanus is picked within the contubernium, which is why Calvus was saying something like "why we even picked you" stuff.

German translations:

Herr - mister (or in French, monsieur... which I was really tempted to type)

bruder - brother (or in Italian, fratello... which I was also really tempted to type)

P.S. Thanks for the fave, follow and reviews!