Alliance or Friendship?
Ludwig sighed. He started believing that war was already lost. He simply had the wrong allies. Japan was too busy in saving his own nation to worry about them too. And Italy... He let a yell slipped. That guy didn't need an ally, he needed a baby-sitter.
The day before he had been caught from England, the one before France caught him. And he was always there, ready to save him. He wondered a lot of times what made him doing it. And he had to admit that he didn't make it because he was an ally. It was because he cared for him.
He got some plans. He knew his aims, he got clear ideas of what was right to do. But, behind those ideals, there was some fear. He was afraid to lose, afraid to be defeated.
Afraid to be left alone.
The telephone rang. He answered, with a sigh.
"Hello?" he said.
"Doitsu, doitsu! I'm with America, and he just don't want to let me go!" Germany groaned. He was in a fix again. For a moment, he was touched on by the idea of leaving him there, at the mercy of America, of forsaking him.
Then his eyes fell on the picture he had on his desk. Veneziano and him. He smiled, thing quite rare. He sighed again.
"Okay, Italy. I'm coming soon" he said, then he went helping not an ally, but a friend.