Silent tears forced their way from the corners of Finland's eyes and down his ghostly pale face as the rift faded to black once more. He could no longer face the dark rectangle at the head of the table, and lowered his gaze to his lap. The squeeze from Matthew's hand was grounding, but did not have the comforting effect that was likely intended.
If that had happened to Amelia, then what had happened to Matthew? Had his native family decided that he and the other Nordics could not properly care for the twins, or had something equally horrific happened to him as well?
His babies.
His poor, poor babies.
His baby.
How badly had the fall hurt?
Could they have gotten to her before her native family had taken her back if he had gotten there faster?
Would he have been able to care for her and help her wounds heal like a good parent?
Would he have been able to keep them with him? To remain as a family in the following centuries?
... was she happier without him?
The Nordics began to spiral in the privacy of their thoughts; the image of the bloodied body of the little girl they had loved so much seared into their brains like a brand. Sweden in particular couldn't get her bloodied face out of his head, her blank stare boring into him as bright crimson blended into the rocks and water. Iceland had buried his head in his arms long before Amayeli had finally lost her grip on the roots. His agonized shaking was noticed by Norway, but he could only offer the comforting weight of his hand on Iceland's shoulder, too choked by his own emotions to utter a word.
Matthew had looked away completely when his sister had begun her unwilling descent, not wanting more nightmare fuel of the broken, battered bodies of his siblings to haunt him at night. He kept his eyes trained on the hand Diego rested on his arm. Squeezes kept hands firmly attached to him from both sides, Diego on his right with his hand gently holding his forearm, and Finland on his left with his hand desperately grasping onto Matthew's own as silent sobs racked the smaller man's body.
The others at the table displayed looks of shock, horror, discomfort, and odd blends of the three. England refused to look, as did Spain, but they still jolted at the sickening crack that resonated through the rift when the small girl's body met the rocks. France forced himself to observe the fate of his little girl through squinted eyes as his hands constricted around his mouth, halting any sound from escaping his throat. Prussia's eyes were still stuck on the blackened display of the rift, his face scrunched up in empathy for his best friend while his brother leaned on the edge of the table. Germany had felt nauseous as soon as he saw America's body hit the rocks, and was now leaning his arms on the table while resting his head on the edge. Italy had stopped clinging to him when he had suddenly moved, going instead to clutch at his brother, Romano's, arm. Surprisingly, the grumpy Italian did not shout at his twin, instead he continued to stare at nothing, trying to process what he had just witnessed as he forced measured breaths in and out. China was in a similar state to Romano, but without anyone clinging to him. He had not thought the young nation had gone through any significant hardships, personal or otherwise. America had always appeared so upbeat, still unbroken by the world, but now he had to wonder. There was no motion in the silent room, except for the slight tremors he noticed in Japan. China's head immediately snapped to Russia when the tall nation's shifting broke the photo-like stillness of the meeting room. The arctic nation leaned back in his chair, taking in his surroundings with an intrigued expression and a slight curl to his lips. A fire sparked in China's chest, burning hotter as he watched the Russian.
Did he think this was amusing? That it was some sort of game?
China's mouth twitched. He may not like America very much, but they were watching a child suffer. Children are pure, uncorrupted by the world, how in the world could Russia watch a young child suffer like this and smile about it?
----------
Amelia barely noticed when her emotions became little more than a muted hum in the background of her mind. Cold analysis wrapped around her with the welcome comfort of a weighted blanket. The sensation was almost identical to the calm that she faintly remembered enveloping her when she had hit the rocks all those centuries ago.
She moved for the first time in what felt like ages, stepping back and to the side as she looked up. Amelia noted the lack of water swirling and splashing as she moved, coming to the conclusion that she was still levitating over the water. It was a strange feeling, she would swear that she could feel a smooth floor beneath her. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't felt the dirt or grass from her previous surroundings under her bare feet either, just a smooth, cold floor.
With a shake of her head, Amelia decided to file away that observation for later. For now, she shifted her gaze upwards to the place she had fallen from so many centuries ago. As she looked upwards, the protective apathy loosened. Sweden... Her pappa, was screaming, trying to reach down for her as her farbröder held onto him just as fiercely, keeping him from falling over the edge as well. Amelia felt her emotions tug at the shroud of cold analysis that wrapped around her so protectively. She continued to stare upwards, and felt the frigid shroud fall to her feet in a heap as she caught sight of the tears that dripped down her pappa's face, following his screams down after his daughter. They were just barely visible from where she stood, at least 200 feet away, glistening in the remaining orange light like fiery diamonds as they fell.
Her emotions slammed back into her chest, forcing salty liquid to gather in her eyes. She just continued to stare, refusing to blink and let her tears fall. Amelia knew the other nations were watching, the number was uncertain, but she knew they were there on the other side of an unseen rift, just like she had been nearly eight decades ago. There was no way she was going to allow herself to be seen as weak, and she certainly wasn't going to allow her fa- ... England the pleasure of knowing he had hurt her.
The rift faded to black, but Amelia kept her head tilted back, still staring at the spot in the nonexistent sky where the image of Sweden had leaned over the edge of the cliff. Was it because she wanted to see him again, to call him pappa and allow herself to be enveloped by his warm hug? ... Maybe, she wasn't quite sure. Was it to buy time for her tears to dry before they could fall? Definitely.
As she finally lowered her gaze back to eye-level, her surroundings finally began to fill in with colorful objects and structures once more.
The midday sun trickled in through the mamateek's entrance, falling upon a young girl's face and catching her in the eye as she stirred. She made little noise as she opened her cerulean eyes, brushing curly black hair out of her face while she tiredly searched for the source of the soft humming she could hear. Her mind was cloudy, she didn't remember falling asleep, nor did she remember coming to Beothuk's land. A soft noise crept from her throat when her hand hit something warm and moist on her face. Amayeli furrowed her brows slightly, wincing when that small motion caused a pain to shoot through the right side of her face.
Many quiet sounds surrounded Amayeli: the twitter of birds, the hushed noise of wind passing through trees, and the soft chatter of people outside. All of those sounds were muffled by distance, which made it all the more noticeable when the soft humming from across the mamateek ceased. In its place was sudden shifting as someone moved closer. Amayeli began to turn her head to the source of the movement, but a gentle hand found its way to her chin, effectively stopping her. The small girl opened her mouth a sliver to speak, but was countered again.
"Shhh, Ama, don't move yet," a female voice crooned. There was more shifting before the girl came into view.
"Mi'kmaq?" Amayeli questioned, surprising herself with the poor state of her voice, it might as well have been some old woman who had spoken. She cleared her throat, hoping to clear some of the hoarseness from her voice, wincing once more when a pain shot through her sore throat. The girl felt as if she had gargled gravel, or screamed until her voice gave out, but she didn't remember doing either of those things.
Her older sister shushed her again, the sound low and soothing. She moved her hand to Amayeli's cheek, giving it a caring rub before moving to the thing Amayeli had bumped earlier, guiding her small hand away at the same time. Mi'kmaq carefully lifted what was on Amayeli's face, checking what was underneath with a scrutinizing gaze. Amayeli could tell that the thing was covered in cloth... and squishy--ew.
Mi'kmaq seemed pleased with whatever she saw and fully removed the object from where it had sat over her little sister's right eye. She turned to grab another cloth, which she dabbed into a stone bowl filled with water. Once the cloth was nice and damp, Mi'kmaq leaned over her sister to wipe at the right side of her face.
Now that Amayeli had gotten a good look at the object that had been over her eye, she identified it as a poultice. She frowned in confusion when she noticed the semi-dry blood that stained the underside of the poultice. Amayeli did not remember getting hurt, why had she been bleeding? Her frown contorted into a pained grimace as stabbing, tearing pains attacked her. She could feel the line that had been torn through her skin, starting high up on her forehead and stretching to just below her cheekbone. The rubbing of the damp cloth so close to her wound didn't help, sending lightening strikes of pain branching throughout her face with each dab of the cloth.
"Mik?" Amayeli spoke up, the quiet vibrations of her voice irritating her damaged throat.
"Hmm?" The older girl met her little sister's eye, purposely avoiding the one that was kept half-shut with dried blood.
"Why am I bleeding?" The question was hushed, though not by choice, yet it still made the older girl flinch.
Mi'kmaq looked away from Amayeli, bunching up the cloth in her hands before setting it aside. When she finally turned her gaze back to her little sister, she did not meet her eyes. "How much do you remember?"
Amayeli tilted her head slightly, rising up to lean back on her elbows. She furrowed her brows in concentration, not noticing when a pain shot through her eyebrow. Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly as she stared hard at a point on the ground. When she finally managed to form words, uncertainty coated her sentence. "I... I remember playing with Kanata... we were on the beach, and..." Amayeli's brows were pulled closer together as she wracked her brain, "that's it." She looked back up at her sister, a question in her gaze, "Why?"
The older girl shifted her weight uneasily as she sat next to her little sister. "It, uh... sounds like there's a gap in your memory." Amayeli stared at her sister expectantly, tilting her head in confusion when Mi'kmaq faltered.
Just as Mi'kmaq opened her mouth to speak once more, another -- older -- woman swept into the mamateek, bringing with her the scent of rainwater and oak. "Hello, little one, I heard you were awake. You gave us all a great scare."
A smile stretched across Amayeli's face at the sight of the older woman, who had to duck to enter the mamateek. "Mama!" The exclamation came out just as hoarse as all of her other words had, but this time it held a sense of joy. Amayeli sat up fully, turning to face her mother as she sat down next to Mi'kmaq.
The tall woman gave the little girl a kind smile, "How do you feel, my little fox?"
"My face hurts," Amayeli replied honestly, carelessly shrugging her shoulders. The movement sent a pain through her upper arm, drawing the girl's attention from the two women in front of her. She realized that her shoulder was sore and had been bleeding as well, and now that the blanket was no longer covering most of her body, she could see a number of other places that were red with dried blood as well. "Oh, and some other places too," she added. Now that she could see the full extent of her injuries, she was starting to feel them as well. Amayeli shifted her weight to take pressure off of some of her injuries before the looked back up to her mother's crimson and gold marbled eyes.
"I can see that," Her mother's smile fell slightly. "It is a good thing that Kanata and Beothuk found you when they did."
Amayeli tilted her head again, glancing at Mi'kmaq before looking her mother in the eyes--maybe she would get a better answer from her. "Mama, what happened?"
The girl observed as her mother's eyes widened slightly in surprise. Her mother turned to Mi'kmaq, who spoke as if on cue, "The last thing she remembers is playing on the beach with Kanata."
Her mother's reaction was not one that Amayeli expected. Sadness, worry, those were emotions she would have expected to see on her mama's face, not the anger that was put on full display as she clenched her fists and looked to the ground. A sharp mutter broke free from the woman's mouth before she quickly composed herself and looked back up at her little girl. Amayeli's brows furrowed in confusion, could have sworn she had heard her mama say, "Damn those pale-faces." She had never heard of a pale-face, what was her mother talking about?
"Mama, what is a pale-face?"
That question seemed to shock both of the women, who once again traded looks. Amayeli didn't understand, what was going on? Why did they keep reacting like she was missing something big? The frustration in her chest began to burn like the wounds on her body. "What?" The question came out more aggressively than she had intended, but it prompted her mother to respond.
"There is no need for that tone," Native America scolded her sternly before taking a gentler approach. "They are people with skin like the snow, and they are dangerous people," her voice gained a dark edge before it softened once again, becoming overly sweet like honey. "But you do not have to worry about them, they do not roam this land," she took her youngest daughter's hands in her own as she spoke, keeping a calm smile on her face.
Amayeli did not understand. If she did not have to worry about pale-faces, why did her mother just curse their name? What confused her more than her mother's words, however, was her sister's lack of them. In fact, Mi'kmaq looked more surprised at her mama's words than Amayeli herself was. She managed to catch her elder sister's eye, but she simply looked to their mother and then back to her with a strained smile. Amayeli was sure that her confusion was as obvious as the blood on her face, but she nodded her head regardless, certain that she would receive no more answers on the subject.
"Good girl," Her mother crooned, cupping Amayeli's left cheek with her hand. She tilted her head and focused on her daughter's damaged eye. "Can you see with both of your eyes?"
The young girl blinked a few times, bringing her hand up to gingerly wipe away dried clumps of blood. When she was finished, she could open both eyes fully, revealing that her right eye was no longer a bright cerulean, but a clouded blue-gray. As Amayeli looked around, she realized that her field of vision was slightly smaller, and a blurry boarder dominated the right side of her vision. She felt her heart miss a beat when she realized that she could no longer fully see out of her right eye. Anger and fear joined the frustration twisting in her chest and she shook her head as an answer.
Native America's face fell in disappointment and she removed her hand from Amayeli's face. "Rest, little one," she said, her smooth voice strong, yet wise, like aged oak, "we will speak more later, and hopefully help you retrieve the memories that were shaken loose by your fall out of that tree. For now, I must go talk with your elder siblings." Her mother gave her one last smile before she rose and swept out of the mamateek with all the grace of a seasoned ruler.
----------
"A tree?!" Finland exclaimed, shattering the silence that had reigned over the meeting room. He couldn't believe it, Native America hadn't simply wiped their memories of them, she had lied to her own children, to his children. How could she tell Amayeli that he was dangerous, that he, her mutsi, was someone to be feared.
Sweden simply shook his head, the agonized twist to his features never faltering, "Never liked us."
Finland gave an exasperated sigh, "I-... no, I suppose she didn't." The small man gathered himself, swiping at his eyes with his free hand before taking Matthew's hand in both of his. He turned to face his son, "I promise you," he began, looking straight into Matthew's eyes, surprisingly, Matthew didn't look away, "we will fix this. We can be a family again... that is, if you and Amelia want to."
A small snicker came from the other side of Canada. Diego leaned over the table to look around his brother at Finland. The corners of his mouth were turned upwards, and small creases had formed at the edges of his eyes, "I don't think you realize just how many people come with those two."
Maria's higher pitched chuckle snuck out from the other side of Diego. Finland raised his eyebrows in mild surprise before his mouth made a little o in understanding. That was right, they probably considered a majority of England, France, and Spain's other colonies siblings. He supposed that was quite a large family, but that didn't matter, he would invite all of them into his life without hesitation if it meant he could have his two babies back. The short blonde smiled at the three New World siblings, "That's a minor thing, we would be more than happy to call all of you family."
Matthew grinned wider than Finland had ever seen him smile before and turned to exchange glances with his siblings, not letting go of Finland for a moment. The three of them shared a quiet laugh before Matthew turned back to Tino, "I can't wait," his voice sounded stronger than it had earlier.
Finland gave him a watery grin and went in for a hug before his tears could fall once more. Matthew happily accepted the embrace, wrapping his own arms around the father he hadn't been able to know.
---------
Amayeli watched as her mother left, closing her good eye. To her partial relief, she could still see the colorful shape of her mother move away. That was good, at least her bad eye wasn't completely blind.
Mi'kmaq reached over to take her sister's face into her hands, gently prodding at the areas around Amayeli's right eye. "I'm so sorry Ama," she whispered to her, hushed by the emotions clogging her throat, though Amayeli suspected the damage to her eye wasn't the only thing she was upset about. "Anasazi tried her best to heal you, but she said that, since you aren't a true tribe yet, she might not be able to heal all of the damage. Maybe... maybe it will heal more when you're older." Mi'kmaq's last sentence sounded more like a question than reassurance, but Amayeli decided that she might as well have hope.
She was about to nod her head and agree with her older sister, but then some of her earlier words registered. "Anasazi is here?" Amayeli's damaged voice carried more excitement than it had when her mother had joined them, and she abruptly shifted to a sitting position with her legs underneath her, ready to unfold and run out of the mamateek.
"Oh, uh, yes, she arrived here just yesterday," Mi'kmaq's face un-scrunched from its worried position in favor of a surprised raise of her eyebrows.
Amayeli gasped and immediately sprang up to dart out of the mamateek and search for her elder sister's dwelling.
----------
As the rift faded to black once more Latvia couldn't stop the surprised hum from slipping out of his throat. He immediately shrank down into his chair as pairs of eyes turned to him. Lithuania leaned over to look him in the eyes from his seat beside him. His gaze was gentle and warm, encouraging Latvia to speak with a questioning hum of his own. Latvia opened his mouth, but no sound came, though he was less hesitant to talk than before the Nordics and New World siblings had spoken, he still felt like it wasn't his place to speak.
"What is it, Raivis?" Lithuania's voice was so quiet, it barely pierced the quiet, though it did give Latvia a reason to respond.
"I just- it- er..." Latvia began, stuttering before he lightly cleared his throat and matched Lithuania's slight volume. "It's just kind of weird to know that America's eye is nearly blind, um she always seemed like she had extra eyes on the back of her head... o-or something." By the time Latvia was done speaking, nearly every nation's attention had turned to him. He swallowed thickly, and sank down farther into his chair, wanting to slide under the table and never come out.
West Mexico gave Latvia a considering look, casually resting her head on her hand as she took him in. "I mean, you're not wrong," she drawled.
Prussia released an amused huff as Denmark nodded along. "Damn right he's not wrong," the Prussian said, "it's like she has x-ray vision or something."
"Or just-a really damn good hearing," Romano added. "You can't say a damn thing around her without-a her catching it."
"Unless it's in a language other than English," Austria added. It was clear that his remark didn't have the effect he intended, as while he, England, and Spain snickered lightly, America's friends and family did not share their amusement.
The New World siblings, along with Prussia, Romano, Lithuania, and the Nordics, glared at the three nations while Hungary simply shook her head in disapproval.
"You do realize that we haven't heard a single word of English in a single one of these memories, right? We have all heard her speak Native American languages, Swedish, Norwegian, Finnish, Icelandic, and Danish as a child and you still want to use the language joke?" If looks could kill, Denmark would have murdered Austria by now for his rude ignorance.
"And she definitely speaks German, she has practically since I first met her," Prussia chimed in, his crimson irises joining Denmark in attempting to bore a hole through Austria's core. "I'd be willing to bet that there isn't a single word any of you have said at the meetings that she didn't understand," he added.
That last sentence was enough to plunge the room into silence once more. The other Nordics and Japan felt a pang of guilt ring through their bodies. They had never enjoyed listening to the one-sided verbal war many of their colleagues waged against Amelia, but they had rarely intervened. Each of them had heard various side comments made about the superpower -- nasty remarks spoken in various languages so that the object of their anger and aggression wouldn't know they were being talked about. None of them had thought that Amelia might have been able to understand them, especially since she never so much as batted an eye -- even when the comments were made right in front of her.
Austria and the other nations who had found his comment amusing had a very different train of thought running through their heads. If America truly understood all of their languages, and that was a big if, then why hadn't she ever called them out? More importantly, what would she do when she got back? There was no doubt in any of their minds that England's little stunt had really pissed America off, even more so than anything they had ever seen between America and Russia. Her little tantrum after she woke up in the pocket dimension confirmed that she would most likely attack him when the opportunity arose. That raised the question, however, what would she do to them? She would likely live through some of the more... difficult meetings, but when she was reminded of that, would she take her aggression out on them as well? Her actions from the past two days showed that she was more willing to take violent actions against them than she had been in the past. After all, she had nearly crushed England's wrist and screamed violent threats at him merely an hour or two earlier, where before she rarely touched anybody and made questionable jokes instead of threats.
What would happen when this was all over?