Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers or any of its characters
Italy picked up her push broom and began to sweep the cobblestones surrounding Mr. Austria's house. Her stomach growled at her and she forced herself to keep working, knowing that once she finished she could have some pasta. Fighting hunger, she finished the section she was on and moved on to the next section, her sadness growing. Italy had eventually come to realize that Mr. Austria was thriftier than ever, and her portion sizes were only shrinking. What was the use? She set down her broom and began to cry, sitting down with her dress fanned around her, her eyes downcast.
The quick clicking of boots on the cobblestones made her look up, wide-eyed. An angry looking Holy Rome was storming towards her, eyebrows furrowed, eyes smoldering. Italy yelped, terrified. She stood up hastily, her broom and bucket forgotten on the stone path. She began to run away, not even bothering to look back. She knew that if she did, all she would see was Holy Rome, chasing after her, furious with her for some reason.
"Italy! Italy wait!" but she would not turn. She knew that if she did the older teen would only catch up sooner. That was the last thing she needed. Still, she was not prepared for a missing stone in the walkway and suddenly she was in free fall. She panicked, tears coming to her eyes as she prepared herself for a skull injury. All at once, she felt a strong pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist and lift her up, and she gasped, grasping Holy Roman Empire's shoulders for support. He lifted her into his arms, and she whimpered quietly, her ankle throbbing from her near fall.
Holy Rome's frustration only increased, and his grip on Italy's injured form tightened slightly. He looked down at the beautiful teenage girl in his arms. She was whimpering and tears glimmered in her wide brown eyes. Ohh, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She was dressed in a simple full-sleeved white dress, her tiny feet in brown heels. At the age of 16, she looked so innocent, right down to the flush on her cheeks. She was so delicate in comparison to him, he worried he would break her if held onto her too hard. Yet he could not help the fluttering in his cheeks when he saw her, he couldn't deny his feelings for her. His only hope was that she felt the same way about him.
As Holy Rome walked towards his chambers in Austria's lavish house, Italy rested her face in the crook of his neck, relishing in the warmth and safety his arms provided. She felt lonely and hungry and for now she would let Holy Rome be her anchor, even though she knew he would never love her the way she loved him. He was her knight in black robes. He was the only one who cared for her and left her bowls of potatoes when she was feeling hungry. He was the one who gave her an opportunity to paint bunnies again. He would never love her, but for now she was content to fall asleep, dreaming that he did.
Holy Rome paced around his bedroom, feeling the strain of the day's events catch up to him. It seemed like his day had begun with a constant onslaught of questions and accusations from his boss. Apparently, he wasn't "man enough" to stand up to his enemies and so his leaders were giving him three months to make the descision to rush in to battle on his own before they forced him to go. On top of that, Italy was upset with him for some reason.
Honestly! Just when he had felt that he was making progress with her, she had to flee like a scared rabbit. Why was it that whenever he thought of his beloved Italy, he always thought of little rodents, like squirrells and rabbits.
He looked back to the sleeping Italian girl on his bed, wishing that he could know what she was thinking. At some point, while he was coming to his rooms, Italy had fallen asleep in his arms. He felt a sudden rush of annoyance towards Mr. Austria. Had he not invaded Italy, she would have been more pliant to joining the Holy Roman Empire.
Right now, she looked positively angelic, he luscious brown hair slayed out onto his pillows. He felt a pang in his heart as he realized that small teardrops clung to her long eyelashes. His fists clenched. HE had been the cause of her sadness. Turning on his heel, Holy Rome strode purposefully from the room, following the piano melody, hoping to find Austria.