497 BC – The start of the Persian wars (Involved the area now known as Turkey)
It had been about a hundred years since Greece and his mother had moved in officially with the Athenian Royal Family, being offered quarters in their palace. Although his mother had been reluctant, she'd told him that it was what all the Nations were doing now, and that it made sense to be a closer sphere of influence.
Having already felt rather restricted when living with his mother in their own palace, Greece found these new arrangements suffocating. He couldn't go anywhere without being questioned or watched and leaving the palace unaccompanied was absolutely impossible.
Normally the palace was a busy swell of activity, diplomats, philosophers and political advisers dashing all over the place, paper trails billowing out behind them. But today there was only silence, the air lying think and stagnant, tense, and waiting.
Something was happening. His mother had been in meetings for the last week, he had barely seen her at all, and when he did she was too tired or stressed to really speak with him properly.
There was another reason he didn't like the palace, and why he felt the chains of it so acutely as they entwined their way around his body. This had been his home many, many centuries ago, and the testament to that still stood here, carved in stone for all the world to see.
A statue dedicated to Helen of Troy: 'The face that launched a thousand ships', had been erected many years ago in the flower garden, and in her arms, immortalised in the marble was a baby, a mess of hair on its head, topped with a familiar singular curl.
Greece fingered the curl in his own hair as he looked up at it.
Those memories, it had all been so long ago. Another life time, one that now felt separate and alien from his own.
He'd been found, so he'd been told, on the dusty broken road on the way back from the siege of Troy, a battle of such epic proportions that tales of it had become legendary, with embellishments and exaggerations, so that even Greece himself had difficulty remembering what had been true, and what wasn't.
War.
It wasn't that battles didn't happen, in fact they happened fairly frequently between the Greek Kingdoms, but something about it all felt different now. The battles in the Greek Kingdoms neither empowered or weakened him and his mother, they were simply a way of life and their culture.
But in the last few months that word had been used with a different tone, as people moved grim faced through the palace halls.
They didn't speak of the valour and heroism, instead they spoke of invasion, violence and slaughter.
In the last hundred years, Greece had gone through rather a growth spirt, and he figured his determination had reached its breaking point once the Persian Empire had begun growing so rapidly. He was determined that Turkey would not leave him behind, and so he had managed to force himself to age a few more years, until he sat comfortably at the age of ten.
Suddenly the door nearest to him was thrown open, and a man hurried out, a heavy set of scrolls bundled under one arm.
"What's happening?" Greece knew if he didn't ask someone then he'd probably never know. His mother told him nothing, and he was considered too young to attend the meetings, despite the fact he'd been alive for well over half a millennium now. Turkey, Rome and Germania probably weren't told they were too young. He didn't know about Egypt, but he hoped the other young-looking Nation was suffering as much as him.
The man paused, glancing quickly at Greece with uncertainty.
"We're at war" he sighed, evidently deciding that this was not a secret that would be kept from the young Nation much longer.
There was that word again, spoken in that way that everyone had been saying it recently.
"With Persia" the diplomat added, "They've invaded Ionia."
Greece blinked, dumbfounded and silent, his mind only just processing the diplomat's departure as he ran on down the steps and through the garden.
Turkey had attacked them? Why would he do that?
Even though it had been a great many years ago, Greece still remembered their conversation about the inevitability of war. But Turkey had spoken of it like it was something he wished for Greece to avoid, or certainly remain safe from, and yet, here he was, pulling land away from him.
Although the young Nation's mouth didn't move, his eyes widened. That wasn't all that Turkey had told him that day. Nations, they could be killed, and the way to do it, was to take their land from them, weaken them until a simple human sword would be enough splinter their bodies.
Was that what Turkey intended to do to him? To his mother?
He shook his head, this couldn't be right.
The diplomat had said that 'Persia' had attacked them. The exact land that Turkey himself controlled, and the influence he had over it was uncertain, so perhaps he didn't have anything to do with this.
It was a hopeful thought, but not one that Greece himself completely believed.
The doors opened again, and this time a whole crowd of people burst through them, all talking loudly and angrily, completely oblivious to the young boy's presence. Greece had to jump to the side to avoid being trampled by all of them, trying to catch what little pieces he could out of the conversations.
Then, finally his mother and their head statesman left the room. They were not speaking, but both looked very angry and defiant.
"What do they mean Persia's invaded Ionia?" His mother would have a better understanding, she always seemed to know what was happening in their lands, certainly if another Nation set foot within it.
Her green-eyed gaze flickered towards him. His mother's face was hard, and her beautiful face was marred with a deep frown.
"It means that Persia has marched an army into one of our Regions and claimed it as their own, appointing their own rulers and subjugating our people," she turned sharply on her heel, pointing in the direction of their wing of the palace. "I should have dealt with that boy when I had the chance," this last part was muttered so low that Greece wasn't sure he was supposed to have heard it.
So, Turkey was involved… his mother surely wouldn't say that if he wasn't.
While his mother had disappeared down the hall, the head Statesman remained, shaking his head slowly.
"We never imagined that Persia would do such a thing" he explained with a sigh, "We believed that they would respect our borders just as we respected theirs. But with their Empire pushing westwards, we have no choice but to face them with all our strength." He motioned out to the garden where many of the other men had passed by, "I have sent out all my diplomats to the other Greek rulers to form an alliance, we must stand as one if we are to save our beautiful lands from invasion."
His gaze turned to Greece with a deeper intensity. "It would be inappropriate to ask your mother to fight, she is a woman after all, and we are not savages. However, we must assume that Persia's own Nation will be on the battlefield, so I must ask of you something I would never normally ask of a child."
Greece straightened up, trying to look as tall and important as he could manage.
If he was needed, then he would act. Finally, he had the chance to prove he wasn't the child he appeared to be. His people were relying on him, because finally there was something he could do that his mother could not.
"I have spoken with your mother about the idea, and she does not like it, but I made the case that you should be the one to make that decision." A hand rested on Greece's shoulder, as the man looked him in the eye like an equal, "Will you fight alongside us?"
This was the question Greece had assumed would be coming, and he already had his answer, nodding firmly in response.
He wasn't afraid. Even if he were to face Turkey on the battlefield, a part of him still felt confident that his old friend would not harm him. He needed answers though, he had to understand what was happening, and know where Turkey stood with it all.
While he knew it had been a very long time since he'd last seen his friend, he couldn't believe that he'd changed that much over the last few centuries, particularly considering his opinion on Rome when they'd last met.
"Good man" the Statesman smiled, squeezing Greece's shoulder one final time before returning through the doors of the room the others had left by, closing them behind him.
The promise had been made. Greece knew that his mother would be disappointed in him, particularly as the Statesman had told him that she did not approve of the idea. But there was one thing that Turkey had always been right about. The stronger his mother's grip on him was, the harder it would be for him to grow. If he didn't step out into the light by himself, then her grandeur and height would overshadow him forever.
He wasn't his mother and he wasn't a part of her. He loved her and owed so much to her, but he had to be the Nation he was supposed to become.
Greece remembered that weird theory Turkey had told him about the tree and the fields, where the two of them had played with Rome, Germania and Egypt, long before any of them had even understood what a Nation was. 'Destined for great things', could that really be true? Was there something that made the Nations that visited that tree special? Could that really be true?
Once more he felt his gaze drift up to the face of Helen and the baby in her arms.
Seven-hundred-and-fifty years ago, he'd been found as a baby on a dirty, dust covered road, that just so happened to coincide with the route the Athenian army and their Queen chose to take back home, following the destruction of Troy.
Helen had told him stories of how she had heard two babies crying out that night, and how they had both fallen silent before her husband's army had attacked. At the time he hadn't even considered that he may have been one of those children, but as time had gone by and he'd matured, long since Helen's death, he realised that was what she'd believed.
He had then wondered as to the identity of the second child, debating with himself as to whether the other cry had just been that of a normal child, or if perhaps Helen had been mistaken when she thought she'd heard two.
But then, after meeting Turkey it occurred to him that the identity of the other child could only have been him. He'd never mentioned this to the other Nation, and he'd never told him the stories Helen had relayed to him about his origins, although Turkey had talked in abundance about his family and how they'd found him amongst the ruins of the fallen city.
It was as if the two of them were some how tied together, a bond forged by the gods themselves, that neither of them could ever be free of.
If there was any truth to Turkey's belief in faith and destiny, then Greece was certain of one thing. The two of them had been born together, and for that reason they would die together as well. One could not slay the other, while they continued to live. The gods rarely made plans, and if they did there was always a tragic sense of irony to them.
"One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom." That was something he'd read, the words of Socrates, immortalised on the page by his student Plato. Words that truly stayed with Greece when he approached the unknown. There was no shame in admitting you did not know something, because that was the first step towards mastering it.
"You gave your answer I presume?"
Greece turned away from the statue, to see his mother standing a short distance off, she must have turned back.
Suddenly nervous, Greece nodded. "I said I'd fight with them."
She wouldn't be happy, but as worried as he was about her reaction, he knew that this was something he had to do.
Nodding, his mother pursed her lips.
"One day a wise man will speak the words I want to say to you" she told him softly, "But I myself do not know them." She took an unsteady step forward and crouched down beside him.
As Greece looked up at her face, he noticed a few blemishes here and there, small lines around her eyes, and perhaps the smallest streak of silver in her hair.
"You are my son, and one day I will no longer be here to guide you," she pressed her lips to his forehead, "Make good decisions, make fair decisions, but most importantly make wise decisions."
She pulled back, allowing Greece to hold her gaze uncertainly. "But how will I know what the right decision is?"
"Through experience and reason," she did not hesitate in her reply. "I have taught you how to reason, but I have held you back from experiencing life… perhaps I wished to protect you from it a little while longer…" She shook her head carefully, "But I fear the time has come to allow you to make your own decisions." Standing up straight, his mother dipped her head to him, "You have and always will be my son, and I will always be your mother. Whatever may come, please remember that."
Perhaps he had imagined those lines on her face, because Greece suddenly found himself wanting to believe that he had been mistaken.
The truth of what life would be without her suddenly became all too clear to him. He would be alone, just like Turkey and Germania were. He'd understand why it was that Rome craved the bond he had with his grandson so dearly, because the reality he now understood was that Nations were fated to be alone. These few brief centuries they were able to share with another, were just small blips on the timeline.
Times that he would miss when they were gone.