Katyusha is Ukraine, Kaoru is Hong Kong, Mathias Køhler is Denmark, Lars is the Netherlands, Bruce is Scotland, Pat is South Ireland, Aneiren is Wales. The first four are common fan names (as far as I know they don't have actual ones) and then the other three are common names in their respective countries according to Google.

I do not own Hetalia, or Google or anything else.


How long had it been? How long until this had become his way of life? When purple skies seemed normal and the idea of one moon bizarre? When his time in his country seemed more dreamlike then this world he was in now? Why was he so indifferent to this now?

He'd grown used to this land. He knew how to avoid the darker, more dangerous creatures. He knew how to tell when his prey was a shapeshifted creature or not and which animals to avoid completely. He knew how to tell what was a magical contract and what was just a favour. He knew the language of the land more so now then he even knew his native tongue. He had even learned a bit of magic when he went to stay with the elves for a bit.

Though it was too bad, he was unable to do more than cause a spark, heal a small injury or create a small shield. K'irean, his teacher, had said that it was due to some sort of very old, powerful binding spell, one that could not be removed unless he died. They had managed to loosen its hold a bit so he was able to do that minimal amount but still. The weird thing is that apparently it appeared to be self-inflicted, but why would he choose to bind away his magic? He hadn't even known he'd had it in the first place! The concept was absurd.

Chesh had left him a while ago, said he'd be back soon, just that he'd been summoned by his lord Oberon and lady Titania. He was needed. Something was wrong. He said he'd come back.

That's what they all said.

Liars.

It was odd that this no longer really bothered him. A bit of time ago, after Chesh had left ( a month, a decade, Who knew?) Matt had given up. He could no longer live like this. Even when he was little he had a companion in Kumajiro and back then he hadn't even known what the word alone meant. But now… The endless loneliness had started to take a toll on his mind. He couldn't do this anymore. But Canada could, so he had taken over and Matt had gone to sleep.

He stood, finishing cleaning of the spear he'd use to bring down the dire-bear before setting it back in its holster by his quiver. It was quite the stroke of luck as he now had some food (he'd run out of pemmican a week ago) and with winter was coming so once he dried the skins out properly, he would have some warmer clothes. Gone was the business suit that he'd worn when he fell and in its place was his more traditional garb. Drawing a knife from his belt, he began to prepare the meat and started a fire.

What did it all matter anyway?


Once the admission that what little they knew of the whole affair was cleared up, the room settled into a debate about what was to be done.

North Ireland again said that they were going to be trained in the old weapons again and had set a time, date and location for the first training session. And then left. So that was settled, what they were arguing was more how they were going to keep Canada's disappearance a secret and then their own. After all, once they went through, they'd be in the same boat as Matthew- provinces/territories/lands attached to them would be incapacitated and their lands vulnerable to invasion. This was going to take quite a bit of tact.

Spain would notice if Romano disappeared (though he can be a bit oblivious, he would. Probably) just as Belgium and Luxemburg would notice if their Broer vanished and Russia would certainly notice if his сестра did. If only because Belarus would then be ten times as clingy and there would be no Katyusha to free him. The Nordics might enjoy the peace of not having Mathias around but they would notice his absence still. Egypt and Hong Kong were fairly self-reliant, their "relatives" might still come if only because they're looking for a place to hide (China from Russia or England from France or Cyprus from Turkey/Greece). People would notice if Ludwig wasn't there as meetings would promptly descend and remain in chaos and there would be no smell of pasta in the air which would point out North Italy's absence. All the Asian nations would miss Yong Soo, if only for his habits of claiming that everything originated from him and claiming...certain "things" for Korea.

The best suggestion they could think of would be to enlist the help of the members of the Commonwealth who knew already of Matthew's disappearance. If they played their cards right, the rest of the nations would simply think that they'd gone on a cruise to visit Trinidad and Tobago, New Zealand and India among other places. It could work.

As all this was going on Gilbert sat there in silence, resting his head on his hands. He hadn't moved since he finished explaining their run in with the fae nor had he said anything. Ludwig's eyebrows furrowed in concern. Something was up. He could feel it.

After the meeting Ludwig easily pulled Gilbert aside and into one of the adjacent rooms. Looking at him in the eye, he said "Bruder, you may be able to fool everyone else but I know you. I've known you for a very long time and I can tell something else is bothering you." When Gil opened his mouth to interrupt, Ludwig held up his hand and continued "And don't try to tell me different! You haven't been using the word awesome every few sentences. Was ist los?"

Sighing Gilbert looked right back him and muttered something along the lines of "He was the older brother dammit" before succumbing to Ludwig's concerned TALK NOW glare. "It's just that over the past few days or so, I don't…feel myself, I guess is the best way to explain it. I am getting tired after just one hundred laps of the track. I feel weaker, kind of like something is slipping away from me. I didn't want to mention it as I didn't want anyone to fuss (Lord how he hated it when people did that. It wasn't awesome fawning but was just obnoxious). I just figured this is what worry must feel like. Don't worry about it"

Worried slightly by the admission, Ludwig vowed to be extra alert for signs of his brother fading though he allowed himself to be placated by Prussia's explanation. For now. In response he nodded and said "Alright Bruder, but I want you to TELL ME if something changes. Ja?"

Pushing open the door to the room, Gilbert turned and nodded his compliance.


The next few weeks for the eleven of them were hell. The British Isles were by no means pushovers especially in the older weapons they were long since masters of. The weapons they were learning (re-learning in some cases) to use were either of stone or bronze, anything else they'd be unable to bring over. To make it even harder for them to even obtain the weapons in the first place, they had to find some that had not come in contact with any of the forbidden elements:

Silver was banned due to the werewolves.

Any Iron or other "Cold Metals" were banned by the fae (though they still loved gold, copper and other fine metals)

Garlic or holy water for the vampires and other dark creatures.

The list went on.

So after an extremely long and arduous process they were able to obtain enough for each of them but they decided to put them to the side and practice with other weapons. Just in case. After all the Italies were known for cooking with garlic for their pasta, Ukraine had silver barrettes and both Prussia and Germany were constantly fiddling with the Iron Crosses on their necks. Better safe than sorry; they didn't want to have to repeat the entire process due to a foolish mistake and brief contact. After all of this trouble, they were finally able to begin.

They had no idea what they were getting in to.


It was official. This entire situation he found himself was mental. He was absolutely nuts for agreeing to do this. The light was on but no one is home. Invest in a nice padded room. He'd lost his marbles. Barmy. Cracked. Elevator doesn't go to the top. Not playing with a full deck. However you say it, he, Australia, was mad for agreeing to this and the rest of them were just as unhinged as him.

What other explanation could there be when one finds oneself facing off against your 5'4" uncle with his face painted blue*, swinging a sword bigger than your entire body and screaming bloody murder?

Well, it could just be a normal family reunion for him (yah, his family's reeeeeeally dysfunctional) but this was just a bit of a stretch.

Just then the giant sword hit the ground beside him.

Right. Focus.

Just like wrestling a croc or catching a snake, right? Just trap the mouth (would that be Bruce's head or sword?) and they all turn into sooks.

Easy.

.

..

...

Pfft. Hah. Hahahaha. He was so doomed.


"Failin means yer a l's playin!" Scotland was shouting at Germany who was getting increasingly frustrated by his inability to conduct a proper defence against the other with the sword.


Wales could be heard screaming across the field at Romano "Keep the heid!" as his temper got the better of him. Again.


"Now just hold on!" Pat shouted at Prussia who had just started to attack again without listening to the other's advice and had instead started to give his own pointers to the Netherlands who was fighting Aneiren beside him. Lars just began shouting his own (equally bad) advice to Gilbert. It took both British Isles dumping the two ass over teakettle to get their attention. "Dinnae teach yer Granny tae suck eggs! There's a reason we're doin' this, ye've gotten soft o'er the years boy! Listen instead of rushing, ye great lummox and ye might actually learn something!"


"Stop thinking! Just react! " Northern Ireland shouted at the hapless Korean.


"Sloppy footwork. You trying to dance?" Hong Kong.


"I'll gie ye a skelpit lug Dane!" Denmark.


"What are you doing?" Egypt.


"Guard UP!" Ukraine.


"EEJITS!" No one was safe. Northern Italy ran off to find a place to hide.


The list went on.

At least all of them were making progress – learning (or remembering as the case may be) how to fight with swords, knives, spears, hand axes and more. Except for North Italy, but in his case Kathleen just made him watch very attentively and try the moves by himself, but he never sparred. When asked why she just turned to them and said "It's no good trying to force him. He's not like you lot who are learning but he's having to meet some past trauma head on as well. It is fear that keeps him from fighting but I think it will take fear for him to move past it." and left the matter at that.

Between their never-ending paperwork and sparring practice, they began learning about magic and the world they'd soon find themselves in. They learned all about as many creatures as the British Isles could remember – from Fishers to Thunderbirds to Furies to Okamis. They even went over basic magic and everyone was pretty impressed when Germany (of all people) managed to light a fire with nothing but a quick word.

December arrived very quickly for them. A little too quickly perhaps


December 21st, across the pond, England felt something snap. Peony, a charming little fairy, who'd been talking to not even a moment before disappeared with a startled yell. It was as if someone had just cut a thread. Looking around his house, he was unable to find any of his supernatural friends, not even Flying Mint Bunny his familiar. Something was wrong.

Something had changed.


In his hotel room America again dreamed. Not his normal dreams though, these past few months he'd been having strange dreams of a land with purple skies and orange sand. He'd been everywhere here, to the top of the mountains to splunking in the caves. It was so much fun. It almost made him sad to wake up sometimes. Tonight was no different, tonight he was flying in a canoe as a voice hauntingly sang around him various tunes. He heard snippets of one slow mournful tune as the voice sang:

Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast,
Let your mountains dark and dreary be.
For when I am far away on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?

Then it slowly changed to a faster tune as the wind picked up so he was barely able to hear the voice belting out something about

...farmers knowing the time at large and stealing wheat and barley and all the other grains...

before transitioning again to a song about

...being gone for a month and I've been drunk since I left.

However the wind again snatched the rest of it away before he could hear the rest. Other snippets of songs flew past his ears as they/he sailed through the wind currents hearing mutterings about jeunesse tu dois ton cul au ministaire and then something else about a criminal mind is all I've ever had and having no sugar tonight in my coffee.

It was only as they slowed and landed in a lake that he heard a full song.

Land of the silver birch
Home of the beaver
Where still the mighty moose
Wanders at will
Blue lake and rocky shore
I will return once more
Boom-diddy-ah-da, Boom-diddy-ah-da, Boom-diddy-ah-da, bo-oo-oom

It was at this point that the front of the boat (canoe his mind corrected) touched down. Alfred found himself looking over the gunnels into the water to see what was in the water. His mind quietly shrieked at what he saw though.

Down in the Forest
Deep in the lowlands
My heart cries out for thee
Hills of the North
Blue lake and rocky shore
I will return once more
Boom-diddy-ah-da, Boom-diddy-ah-da, Boom-diddy-ah-da, bo-oo-oom

That was not his face looking back at him, it looked similar but it was not. This face had purple eyes and his curl hung downwards, though the rest of his hair was short, reaaaally short. Maybe an inch at the most. Though it seemed familiar.

High on a rocky ledge
I'll build my wigwam
Close to the water's edge
Silent and still

Wait a second. He knew that face though it seemed a lot older. What was Matt doing in his dream?

Blue lake and rocky shore
I will return once more
Boom-diddy-ah-da, Boom-diddy-ah-da, Boom-diddy-ah-da,

He reached over to touch his reflection and…

bo-oo-oom.

Alfred woke up drenched in sweat. That had seemed far too real, the wind, the water.

He needed to go visit his brother.

Now.

After all, the hero could not ignore something so bizarre! He hadn't heard from his bro since… that meeting that he was pretty sure Matt was at. It was nearly Christmas, perfect excuse. It wasn't that the dream had scared him. Nope.


*This is not a reference to William Wallace. An ancient tribal group called the Picts by the Roman legionaries (meaning painted/tattooed people) used to do this. Wallace painting his face is a commonly disputed legend and likely did not happen.

Songs referenced are Farewell to Nova Scotia (a Wartime tune), The Last Saskatchewan Pirate by the Arrogant Worms, Home for a Rest by Spirit of the West, Dégénerations by Mes Äieux, A Criminal Mind by Gowan, No Sugar Tonight/New Mother Nature by the Guess Who and then (a classic possibly-Canadian canoeing song) Land of the Silver Birch.


Translations

Was ist los- (German- What is wrong?)

Broer- (Dutch- Brother)

Сестра- (Russian- Sister)

sooks- (Aus slang- domesticated/tamed animal)

Failin means yer a l's playin- (Scot expression- When you fail, at least you're trying)

Keep the heid- (Welsh expression- Keep your wits about you, stay calm.)

Dinnae teach yer Granny tae suck eggs!-– (Irish expression- Don't try to teach someone something they already know)

I'll gie ye a skelpit lug! (Scottish/Irish I'll slap you )