Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Inspiration: Stay Alive - Jose Gonzalez
Prompt: Ancient Rome, Myth and Snowflake - pre-empire Rome
Summary: So there really was such thing as snow. Rome never would have believed it.
Title: White World Myths
The world had gone crazy. Rome - the name he'd recently been given by the nice man who built his new home - was sure of it. After all, what other explanation could there be for awakening to his city turned suddenly so pure white and cool?
He remembered falling asleep after the evening meal and dreaming of grandiose things - conquering worlds, building cities, an age of glory that was exclusively his - and waking at the crack of dawn feeling silly. He was just a poor farm boy; conquering a city may as well have been conquering Olympus for how likely it seemed.
Silly and cold, as it were, when he finally recognized the unfamiliar feeling.
Luckily, it seemed that the other inhabitants of the walled city were having the same reaction. He watched from where he stood in the town center as they emerged cautiously from their squat, simple houses, looking surprised and somewhat frightened. And why shouldn't they be? Either there were evil forces at work, or Jupiter was playing the largest mass prank on them in the history of time.
He felt something icy - icy? Where had that word come from? Very well, he'd call this icy from now on - land in his perpetually scruffy brown hair, and immediately scrambled to brush it off, shrieking a little. He stared in wonderment as he drew his hands away, at the little crystalline flakes now clinging to his stubby, childlike fingers.
Snow, said something from deep inside him. This is something they call snow. He could distinctly remember his nice friend - the one who'd built this place - mentioning it once. But he'd always assumed it was some sort of myth, because of how ridiculous it had sounded, even to his young ears.
He felt the chill in the air amplify, and from the heavens spewed more magical white fluff. It settled lightly in his soft brown curls, his slim arms, the folds of his boyish face; sent a soft, tingling sensation shooting through his entire being. Inwardly he laughed a little. To think that he was now dancing in the middle of something so impossible... It somehow appealed to him.
After all, if this much was possible - if the gods could really could create such miracles - perhaps his own dreams weren't so incredible unlikely; perhaps he had more of a chance of winning in this world than he'd thought.
Of one thing he was certain: if this was truly Jupiter's doing, it was most certainly a gift. A sign.
"Snow!" He cried, spinning around and laughing with careless abandon. "This is snow!"
But really, it was so much more.
Who knows who the nice man I was referencing was? That's right, Romulus, the legendary son of Rhea Silvia and the Roman God of War, Mars, and twin brother of Remus, who survived to see Rome begin to prosper. (Incidentally, he also accidentally killed his brother. How fitting of Roman history.)