Sweden had always told Sealand two things.

The first had been first introduced after Sealand had gotten in a fight with Ladonia. His brother-in-law had smashed every one of Sealand's toy boats after a partly harsh argument over which of them should lead the micronations. The collection had included ones over fifty years old and some that Sweden had uniquely made for him.

"We don't hate people," his father had told him after Sealand came running, telling his father of how much he hated Ladonia. How he never wanted to see the other micronation again. Sealand hadn't actually meant the words, but he still was angry enough to not speak to his sibling for almost a week.

"Hating people only results in rifts," Sweden had continued. "No matter how much they hurt you and upset you, you must always be the bigger person. Learn to move past it. Even if you don't forgive them, you must never hate them." Sweden had been very insistent upon the topic. And Sealand hadn't said a word; not until his father had gotten up to go talk to Ladonia.

"Papa, if we're not suppose to hate people, then why did you and Uncle Denmark hate each other for so long?" Sealand hadn't realized the impact of his words until he saw his father tense up and freeze.

But Sweden had quickly relaxed and turned around to face Sealand again, crouching so that they were eye level. "...You're right. Your uncle and I did hate each other for a long time. And it was this hatred that taught me to stop hating, even when my brother did not. While I learned to let go of my hate, Denmark... did not. I watched as it created a permanent rift between us. And while he has forgotten his hate and now tries to heal the rift, I'm afraid he never will be able to completely do so. This is why I don't want you to hate Ladonia. You are brothers. You must learn from history in order to not repeat it."

After this, Sealand had allowed Sweden to place a small kiss on his forehead before watching his father walk off. The conversation had been repeated a few times as the years went on, but the memory of the first time always stayed the sharpest.

The second thing was to never linger in the past. To move on. This conversation was actually connected to the one about learning not to hate. But for some reason, it was always given separately. As if Sweden never wanted to directly tell Sealand that the two were intertwined.

The instance of its occurrence that Sealand most distinctly remembered was after the death of his founder, Roy Bates. Sealand had been harsh towards Michael, who succeeded his father. He often criticized the younger leader and refused to do anything that he was requested to do. Sweden had begun to notice while visiting Sealand's original home and had pulled the child aside to talk.

"Why do you treat Michael this way?" he had calmly asked. His father didn't seem upset just... curious. As if he couldn't understand why Sealand would act as he did. He lifted Sealand into his lap and met the boy with a soft but serious gaze was gentle blue.

Sealand had felt that the answer should be obvious. "He is trying to replace Roy! I want him to realize that he will never be the same!" he had cried.

"Of course he won't be the same," Sweden had calmly explained. "He is not the same man as his father. Just as you are not the same as England. Or Iceland is not the same as Norway. We are all unique in our very own way. And you can not hold this against him as he is not the one who decides that we are all unique."

"But I want him to be the same..." Sealand didn't see why Michael couldn't be. He didn't see why the son had to be so different.

"You cannot linger on the past. Roy was an important part of your history. But your history is made up of many more leaders than just him. If you focus on the past, you will never be able to enjoy the present. Learn to love what you have now, not what you had. Roy helped you grow to who you are now. And now it's your turn to allow Michael to help you grow even more," Sweden had calmly explained.

His father had gone off to work on political business with England soon after, but his words had lingered in Sealand's mind for much longer. Soon after, Sealand had begun to treat Michael with more kindness. He began working hard to do what his leader instructed and soon Sealand had accepted Michael as his own. Michael was not Roy, but Sealand did not mind anymore. Michael was good in his own way.

Sealand thought about these two rules as he laid in his bed only a few days after the funeral. It was his bed in the home in Helsinki with his Mama; the small and broken family of three having moved to the Finnish capital after Sweden's house had burned down, leaving their original home as a pile of charred wood and ashes.

The house was good enough. It was not as large as Papa's but still fit all three of them and Hana (the family dog) with ease. Sealand had even gotten his own room after having to share one with Ladonia for years. It had been decorated by Finland in the spirit of sailing. The wallpaper made it look like waves were splashing against the hanging fixtures and space had been left for every single boat of Sealand's.

Yet the child had not found joy in the room. As he laid there every night, alone and trapped with only his own thoughts for company, he had begun to miss the company of Ladonia. The company of any living creature besides him, in fact. While he knew he would see them once the sun rose, it was still those long nights that kept him awake. Furthermore, Sealand was stuck on the idea that he was much too old to go to someone in the middle of the night because he was merely scared, no matter how tempting the idea was.

And now it was during one of these long nights that he found himself thinking over the repeated two rules. He knew that even though Sweden was no longer there to enforce them, they should still be followed. But how could he follow the rules set down by the Swedish man, if Sweden himself was the reason he was breaking them.

"Why would you go back for me?" Sealand angrily growled at the sky above. "I am nation! I would've survived that fire! Was that your way of saying you didn't actually think I was a real nation? Well congrats! You lack of belief got you killed!"

"Why would you leave? I hate you for that, you know? Yeah, I'm breaking one of the rules. And I don't care. Because you deserve to be hated. You deserve to not receive my love because you aren't hear to give me some too!" Sealand went quiet and cut off his rant as he heard footsteps pass. But soon those faded into silence and the micro nation was able to continue venting his anger to the skies, though this time in a more quiet voice.

"I know that if I just forgave you and moved on, I wouldn't hate you right now. But I can't. I'm not like you Papa. And now you're not here to make sure I do act like you. I can't just forget about the past and act like you were never part of it. I can't just be happy with the 'now' when you're not here. It's not like Roy and Michael. I don't get a replacement. All I get is emptiness," he whispered to the heavens above.

Once again—as it had been every time he had these one-sided conversations—Sealand only received silence in answer.

His door creaked open and he instantly closed his eyes. He went still, knowing very well that he should be asleep at this hour. It seemed that Finland had come back as he heard footsteps coming closer and closer. Finally Sealand was shifted slightly as a weight was put on the side of his bed. Finland sat next to his son, stroking the boy's hair. He had no idea that the child was still asleep.

"I can't believe you had to experience this kind of grief, lapsi. We had always hoped that the newer nations would not have the same kind of situation. We had hoped that the murdering of nations had died after the incident with France and Holy Rome," Finland sighed.

Sealand had to stop himself from taking in a sharp breath at this. He had heard about the fallen nation from the occasional whispers of nations. But no one had ever mentioned that France had been the one who had dealt the killing blow. He had always assumed that the Holy Roman Empire had merely faded away with his country.

More secrets, he thought to himself.

"But don't worry, I'll protect you. I won't let anything happen to you. Sverige," Finland's voice hitched at the name from the wave of emotion that came with it, "will be the last one. We'll figure out who did this and everything will be good. Life will be good again..."

Sealand wanted to argue as his Mama stood up and the weight of the bed left. He wanted to ask how Finland could even imply that life could be 'good' again with Papa gone. How could Finland just be so willing to forget and move on? Had he never loved Sweden?

Finland's exiting footsteps paused at the doorway. "Oh, and Peter? Learn to get better at faking your sleep. Your breathing was too heavy."

Sealand's shot his eyes open as the door closed, sitting up straight. So Finland had known the entire time that he was awake? Actually, now that he thought about it, the thought of Finland actually falling for his act was harder to believe. The Finnish man always had been able to tell these kind of things, as if he had some kind of sixth sense.

Sealand distinctly remembered a time that he had been trying to sneak some cookies from their container. Finland's voice had called out through the house, stating that he was soon going to be in the kitchen. The action was unusual, but it made it very obvious that his Mama had somehow known that he was up to something.

The micronation looked at the door, thinking about what he had heard. Especially considering that Finland had shared this with him willingly. What was the man thinking? Perhaps he thought he could trust Sealand with this information...

Well if so, then he would prove that he could be trusted. He wouldn't share this information with anybody. Ever. Sailor's honor.

His mouth opened wide as a yawn escaped from deep within him. He rubbed his eyes, the fatigue washing over him. He decided that if he was to be able to function at all tomorrow, he would have to go ahead and go to sleep. He closed his eyes and found himself drifting away into sleep.

Sealand found himself walking on a tightrope made of webbing.

Around him, white webbing made a sort of ground. Nations wiggled in it, wrapped up in the webbing. Some had more webbing than others, the range being from a few strands to only their hair being visible. But as Sealand looked, he found no familiar pair of glasses and blond hair that shadowed dark blue eyes.

He noticed that the Nordics were all near each other in this web. Carefully he ran along the thin lines until he was neck to them, realizing why his father was missing as he noticed a large hole in the webbing. It had been hidden by the other Nordics' bodies but now that he stood there, he wondered how even those could have hid this. The edging of the hole was torn and frayed, as if a knife had cut it out.

He looked down the hole at the endless darkness that spread out below. No sound escaped it, the area acting like a black hole. No one spoke it's name nor was there any sign. Yet as he looked down there, he knew with a sickening twist what that was. It was where nations went to die.

That was where his Papa was.

For a second, a strange calm settled over him. His breath left him and he looked down again to see a small light in the darkness. He considered jumping, trying to find his father. But then he shook his head and the strange feeling disappeared with it. This was not the time to give up. Sweden wouldn't have wanted him to give up.

He turned to look at the other Nordics, inspecting the webbing that was around each of them.

Iceland had the least, almost his entire sleeping body visible as what webbing he had was thin and few. The only thick webbing was around his face, completely hiding the boy's head. He didn't seem to be suffocating on the webbing as he slept, something that Sealand found strange.

Norway had more than his little brother. His webbing grew thickest over his arms and chest, hiding his upper body so that his head and lower body were the only parts visible. Looking at him, Sealand felt that familiar anger grow. The man hadn't been to visit since Sweden's death and Sealand had heard from word of mouth that he had been too busy hiding evidence of Denmark to decrease suspicion of the Dane.

Speaking of the Dane, he had the most. They were thickest over his upper body and head, only his legs and feet visible. Sealand sneered at the man. While he hadn't been suspicious at first of his uncle's involvement, he was frustrated to no end with how the Dane refused to show himself or appear at any events. It made him more of a suspect every moment.

The only Nordic Sealand hadn't looked at was Finland. One glance at his Mama confused him, the micronation not understanding why there would be so much webbing around him. It wasn't as much as Denmark's, but he still had more than Norway or Iceland.

Without knowing what this webbing was, Sealand had no idea on how to interpret everything. He had his suspicions, but there was no way to confirm it. He turned to walk and go look at others before the ground beneath his feet gave away and he was plummeting.

Suddenly he sat up straight, his head smacking hard against an unknown object.

Sealand groaned in pain as he looked at Ladonia, the boy glaring harshly at him as he rubbed his own head. Ladonia was dressed in his pajamas, the outfit a dark blue with different Pokémons decorating it. His hair was a wild mess and sleep was visible in the corners of his eye. He appeared to have just climbed out of bed only a few minutes ago. Sealand also noted the tear stains tracking down his cheeks.

"What was that for? Why did you smack me in the head, dumbom?" the fellow micronation growled.

"Why were you in my room leaning over me?" Sealand snapped back, anger flaring up at him at the other's attitude. He realized how easily angered he was these days, but decided to address the problem later. Now was not the time to contemplate one's self.

"You woke me up," Ladonia huffed, sitting down on the bed. He weight caused Sealand to bounce but didn't shift him like how Finland's presence had done. "You were crying so loud that I heard you in my room."

That wasn't such a big feat. The two boys' bedrooms were side by side and the walls weren't very soundproof. What confused Sealand was that he had been crying. In his dream (he finally realized that must've been what the web incident was; a dream induced by the recent traumatic events), he hadn't cried at all. So why would he have cried in real life? "So you... came to check up on me?"

"Of course not!" Ladonia lifted his nose up and wrinkled it slightly. "I came in here to try and shut you up! But when I got in here you..." he paused, his breath seeming to hitch, "you weren't breathing. You had gone quiet and still. You looked... dead."

This quieted the micronation until something dawned on him. "Is that why you were crying?" he asked, motioning to the tear stains. "Because you thought I had died? Do you actually… care?" he teased.

Ladonia instantly began trying to wipe away the tear marks. "Of course I don't care about you! You're annoying, rude, and a complete pain!"

"And better than you," Sealand interjected with a small smirk.

"No you aren't!" he snapped before huffing. "I was crying because I knew I'd get blamed, and I honestly didn't want to end up in trouble just cause you decided to spontaneously die! Everyone knows the person with the most motive is guilty! Just like how we know Denmark was the one to murder Sweden."

"Don't you dare speak about my uncle like that!" Sealand snapped, pushing the other boy back. "Plus, we don't even know that it was murder! It could have just been a horrible accident that somehow killed Papa! And even if it was murder, my uncle would never kill his brother! Ever!"

Ladonia simply smirked, crossing his arms. He didn't speak, causing Sealand to quick snap, "Why are you smirking like that?"

Ladonia chuckled. "Oh simply enjoying the fact that I know something that you don't," he explained smugly. "It's quite a good feeling in fact."

"What is it? What do you know?" Sealand pried, his stomach suddenly tightening.

"Why should I tell you?" Ladonia mused. "You can't force me to speak. But…" his eyes were drawn around the room, "if you agree to give all your desserts for the neck month, I might consider sharing it."

The fact that the price was so small for nation told Sealand that the boy really wanted to tell him. The biggest price in accepting though was that if he agreed, he would be encouraging the other's hold over him. Sealand would be admitting that sometimes Ladonia had more power than me.

"No, it's not worth it," he growled. "Just take your secrets and get out of here and let me rest."

Ladonia raised an eyebrow before shrugging. "Fine. Guess you'll never know what they found at the crime scene," he casually stated, beginning to walk off. His footsteps were slow and careful, allowing Sealand plenty of time to take in the information and completely process what exactly had just been said.

"Wait!" the sea loving nation cried, his stomach tightening even more. "I changed my mind. I agree. Now what did they find?"

Ladonia smirked victoriously as he turned back around to face Sealand. "Evidence that the death wasn't an accident.

"And your 'innocent' uncle Denmark has his name written all over it."