A/N: Wow. Here it is. My very first Hetalia fic. Based off the movie "Ever After". I must say, it's very different writing for another fandom, especially when you're so dedicated to another.
ANYWAYS- this is totally AU. The AU-ness of it... yup. So some relationships [not romantic] (ex. Austria and Italy, + Austria and Romano), will be kind of flipped on their heads. You'll see. And Austria in general... Well, whatever. ^^' Read and enjoy!

*Note: 1st and 3rd sections are in Lovino's point of view. 2nd is ambiguous.*

Ages: Feliciano: around 7. Chibitalia age.
Lovino: around 8 or so. A little older than Feli.
Gilbert: around 11 or 12.
Elizabeta: same age as Gilbert.

Story takes place in Spain.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Except María. But she's in it for like... two sentences. :P I think I'll have to give her a random character a bigger purpose in the story.

Dedicated to: WindStar72, the epitome of all Spamano love. 3

"Ouch!"

Lovino turned around as much as his current situation would allow and glared daggers at his younger brother.

"Ve~ sorry, Lovi! Just-" With a tiny grunt of exertion, Feliciano pulled the sash a notch tighter and tied it off with a flourish. "Finished!" he chirruped happily, taking Lovino by the shoulders and whirling him around to face the mirror.

Lovino gazed at his reflection. In the polished glass, a small boy stood outlined by the simple wooden frame. Dark brown hair bordered a round, rather chubby face, with one long curl defying the others and jutting out from the middle of his scalp. Hazel eyes, more of a green than a russet color, peered back out at him, lit with the normal temper and obstinacy as they always were, as well as the dejection he normally managed to keep so well-hidden. He scowled at it, and the reflection grimaced back. Was this really what he looked like? Was this what people saw when they passed him on the street?

"Well…?" his brother asked, smiling brightly and cocking his head to one side, in what Lovino supposed he thought was an endearing sort of manner.

"Well what?" he grumbled, not really paying attention to the other, and still sizing up himself in the mirror. Feliciano rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and twisted his hands together.

"How do you like your outfit? It's cute, right?"

"Oh, uh…" Lovino took a closer look at what he was dressed in. A pure white tunic hung down past his knees, where the ends of his khaki trousers poked out. A snowy cap sat snugly towards the back of his head, while the ensemble was topped off with a dark, olive-green sash tied firmly around his waist, the same that Feliciano had just finished trussing him with.

"-I…"

"You're almost as pretty as me, fratello!" Feliciano squealed, and he cut Lovino off, his shock of auburn hair springing around as he hugged him forcefully.

Lovino pushed his younger brother off with difficulty, and straightened his tunic, looking back into the mirror. How did these clothes make him appear? Dignified? Childish? Like an artist? An imitation? …"Pretty"? … Ha! As if it mattered. Frustrated, Lovino felt tears pricking his eyes, and the rising anger in his chest that always seemed to accompany them.

"Dammit… I just don't know why we always have to dress up when Grandpa Rome comes home! It's not like he cares anyways." Lovino said bitterly, turning away from the mirror and using the back of his hand to indignantly brush away the salty drops before they dropped onto his cheeks.

His brother seemed puzzled by his sudden outburst, but perked right back up again, his eternally cheerful nature not allowing a change in emotion for very long.

"Of course he cares, Romano!" Feliciano said, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Lovino regarded him with a sense of numb surprise. His brother had used his "other" name, the ones they had made up a long time ago as a kind of secret game before they left Italy. He had been "Romano", while Feliciano had been… (1)

"Ve-Veneziano?" He stumbled a bit over the word, not having used it for so long. "… Do you… really think so?"

Feliciano smiled sunnily at this return of the name.

"I know so! He loves both of us. He always comes back, doesn't he? No matter how long he's gone, he always returns."

Lovino turned away slowly and pulled his hand away from his brother's soft clammy fingers, walking to the open window and out onto the balcony to lean against the railing. How do you know he doesn't just come back to see you, Feli?

He closed his eyes and sighed, letting the early summer breeze blow over his face and ruffle his hair. It was at times like this that he missed their home country.

PING.

Lovino reluctantly cracked open his eyes against the bright early morning sun.

PING. PING.

"Who's ever doing that better stop it, dammit!" Lovino shouted out, irritated now. He peered down over the railing, only to let out a cry of surprise and pain as a fair-sized rock flew up and hit him smack dab in the middle of the forehead. Reeling back, he clutched his head in his hands.

"Did that one finally hit you, Italiener? I know my awesome aim couldn't have missed more than three times."

I know that voice… Lovino thought, bad temper rising just as sure as the bump on his head was going to in a few minutes. He cautiously poked just the top of his head over the balustrade. Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit.

"Gilbert! You bastard, I told you not today!" Lovino shouted at the grinning white-haired boy who stood directly below the balcony. "Grandpa Rome is comi-"

"You look like a girl!" Gilbert cut him off rudely, not paying attention to anything Lovino had just said. "There's no way that I would ever be caught dead in a dress!" Lovino saw him flash his trademark crimson-eyed smirk, arrogance radiating from every inch of his stance and expression.

Lovino let out a long, slow, tension-filled breath. Gilbert Beilschmidt, his only real friend besides Feliciano (who didn't really count, when he thought about it), and his family, had moved to Spain around the same time the Vargases had. While the other was a few years older than himself, through learning the new language together, the two of them had become tentatively close friends, though their amity wasn't without its grievances.

"It's not a dress!" Lovino finally replied. He looked down at himself. Well, it's not… "…It's a tunic," he finished, rather lamely. He suddenly felt Feliciano peek over his shoulder.

"Ah, buon giorno, Gilbert..." Feliciano said, shuffling his feet, and looking somewhat embarrassed. Lovino gave him a skeptical look. Feli? Nervous?

"Hmn?" the albino grunted from beneath them, unaware of the other boy's obvious discomfort.

"I was just… just wondering… ah, how's your brother?"

"Ludwig? He's just fine. Why do you ask?" Gilbert scratched his head, looking puzzled. Feliciano blushed a furious shade of cerise and hid behind Lovino.

"Oh, no reason!" His voice, normally so high that some mistook him as a girl, became even more shrill. Lovino pushed his little brother away. Oh, so it's about that bastard again… He gritted his teeth, fuming. Just leave it, just leave it…

"So anyways," Gilbert went on, apparently unconcerned with anything occurring that didn't involve him. "I've graced you with my awesome presence today, haven't I? The least you could do to show some gratitude would be come outside and see me." He put a hand to his hip and looked meaningfully up at Lovino. Lovino glared at him for a second more before giving him a terse nod.

"Fine, I'll come out for a while." He turned and began to walk out of the room, but Feliciano caught him by the arm.

"What are you doing, Lovi? Grandpa's going to be home any minute now!" he hissed to Lovino, distress showing in his large, amber eyes.

Lovino shrugged the hands off. The last thing he needed was Gilbert hearing his little brother telling him what to do. Giving Feliciano a dirty look, he ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door, where his supercilious young friend stood waiting for him.

†‡†

The large, extravagant carriage made its way down the long and twisted path. Ensconcing foliage on either side put the travelers in relative shade from the now sweltering noontime heat.

As it rounded the corner, the occupants could fully see their destination. A modest estate home stood amongst the trees, seeming to be molded from the very countryside itself. It looked slightly disheveled, as though it had definitely seen better years. The roof tiles needed replacing, the windows could have used a good washing, and there were several farm animals roaming freely about the muddy yard. It had a nearly rustic feel though, and could almost pass for "quaint" or "charming" if you squinted hard enough. Almost.

The carriage came to a halt in front of the chipped wooden front doors. A lineup of laborers and hands, looking worn but smiling, stood in single file against the outside wall of the manor, waiting to greet their arrival. As the coach's door at last began to open, a tiny figure, auburn hair flaming in the sunlight, came dashing around the corner of the house and stopped, panting, at the front of the line.

One by one, the landau let spill its impressive passengers. Tall knee-high travelers' boots pressed firmly into the earth as a dark, handsome man stepped out. Though he wore elegant clothes fit for a noble, they did nothing to take away from laugh lines etched into his face, or his soft, twinkling eyes.

"Grandpa Rome, Grandpa Rome!" the child shrieked, still a tad breathless, but beaming nonetheless, running over and flinging himself into the man's arms. Rome laughed and swung his grandson around in the air before setting him back down again.

"Oh little Feli, how much I've missed you," Rome chuckled, pinching the boy's cheek. Feliciano flushed happily. "But where's my other grandson?" he continued, bringing himself to full height and scanning the yard for a sign of the older Vargas brother. Feliciano became abruptly agitated once more.

"Ve~ oh Grandpa, I looked for him everywhere! He went off… off to…" But he trailed off as the remaining two passengers descended from the carriage. First a man, tall, with a long, thin frame not completely hidden by the tasteful attire that draped over it. His dark brown hair fell around his hair in styled waves, and his eyes shone a cold, violet color through the rectangular glasses perched meticulously on the edge of his nose.

The second was a girl, only a few years older than Feliciano, perhaps eleven or twelve years old, with long locks of brown hair that hung about halfway down her back. Her eyes, green and unreadable, observed the new scenery around her. With a nod of his head, the other man motioned her to stand next to him, which she did mechanically, an apathetic expression on her face.

"Ah, Feli, there's someone I would like you to meet," Rome said, turning to face the two new individuals. "This," he gestured to the man, "is Roderich Edelstein. He's an old family friend, and is going to be living here for a while." Roderich dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. "And this…" Rome paused, and then coughed awkwardly.

Roderich rolled his eyes at the older man's unacquaintedness.

"This is my charge, Elizabeta Héderváry. She was left in my care when her parents died a few years ago," he interjected. His voice was somewhat higher-pitched than Rome's baritone, and carried what seemed to be a permanently lofty tone, which matched his "high-and-mighty" air and bearing.

Roderich looked around at the estate, wrinkling his nose at the stench emitting from a grimy-looking nearby goat, which stood bleating loudly at the post it was tied to. His stare traveled up the worn brick walls, coming to rest momentarily on one of the upstairs windows, which had a large hole yet to be fixed from when it was smashed nearly two months previous; then moving on to take in the sight of the servants, peasant clothing particularly evident when set against such finery as he and Elizabeta wore. Finally his eyes stopped on a small form walking slowly from the direction of the pigpen.

"Hmph," Roderich sniffed, turning his face away from the approaching boy. "Rome, if you must insist on housing urchins off the street, you should at least try and keep them clean."

Rome squinted at the approaching figure, then broke out in a huge grin.

"Lovi!" he cried out delightedly, beckoning his grandson come with a wave of his hand.

†‡†

Lovino stopped dead in his tracks, then backed away from the vast group of people that seemed to be waiting for him at the front door of the house. No. Not now. That was not his grandfather. Not when he was spattered in mud, and the total opposite of the ideal descendant the older man wanted to see. No no no.

He looked down at himself. The beautiful outfit that Feliciano had dressed him in was completely ruined; only a few patches of the vibrant white tunic still shown here and there through the thick muck. He gingerly felt the back of his head, then cursed loudly. Dammit. His hat must have fallen off in the scuffle. He glared accusatorily up at the sky. Mio Dio! Couldn't you have let me at least have the hat? Was it too much to ask?

Grandpa Rome strode forward towards him. As he got closer he finally seemed to catch sight of the state his grandson was in, and stopped a few feet away, staring at Lovino speechlessly.

Lovino froze and looked up at him, mind running around in circles. What would he say? What would he do?

He let out a little 'oh' gasp of surprise as Rome suddenly swept him up in his arms and hugged him tightly to his broad chest. After a moment Lovino relaxed into the embrace, letting the warmth seep in through his soaked clothes. He buried his face into the crook of the man's neck, taking in the scent of sweat, dust, and a hint of that unique smell that just was his grandfather.

After a minute, Rome set him back down again and gently took him by the hand, leading him over to the others. Lovino allowed himself to be pulled along. Grandpa Rome was looking at him! He was paying attention to him! He had hugged him…

Feliciano's face split into a big smile and he ran over as well, obviously planning to hug him too, but drew back quickly as soon as he saw just how filthy Lovino was.

"Lovi," Feliciano rebuked, wagging a finger at him chidingly. "I told you this was a bad idea! See what happened now?" Lovino scowled and slapped his finger away. Brat…

"And what happened to Gilbert?" Feliciano went on, looking around for a sign of the albino. At that, Lovino finally cracked a smile. He had almost forgotten…

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" He turned around and pointed behind them all. Everyone followed his gaze and immediately saw the spectacle.

Gilbert froze comically with one foot in the air, caught in the act of sneaking away from the Vargas estate and back to his own home. He was covered in mud from head to toe. Completely. Only his crimson eyes, burning with humiliation from being pointed out, shown through the grime. Rome gave a great laugh, slapping his knee with each guffaw. The small albino glared spitefully at him.

"I don't see what's so funny, old man," he said, folding his arms indignantly while Rome wiped his eyes, still chuckling.

"Lovi sure whipped you good, didn't he?" Rome struck a pose, muscles surfacing through his tight-fitting shirt. "Looks like someone inherited my strength!" He grinned proudly at Lovino, who felt a surge of delight at the acknowledgement.

"Ha! Well, maybe this time, but next-" Gilbert began to retort conceitedly, but stopped. His mouth fell open in mid-sentence, and crimson gaze was fixed on a point directly behind Lovino. Lovino turned around. Elizabeta?

Gilbert seemed to try to speak, but all that came out was a series of strange gurgling sounds as he stared dumbly at the richly-dressed young girl. She looked startled to be the center of attention, and blushed furiously. As Lovino watched, the blush slowly spread across her face, until it no longer resembled shock, but indignation. She flashed Gilbert an irate glower, which seemed to take him aback, and the spell was broken.

"Hey, you, what's your problem?" Elizabeta said heatedly, in a tone hardly befitting a young lady of her stature. Lovino smiled. I like her.

"Elizabeta!" Roderich snarled under his breath.

"But he-" she began. Roderich's eyes narrowed, and he gave her a dangerous look. Elizabeta flinched as though she'd been struck and turned her face silently to the ground, folding her hands neatly in her lap. Gilbert's eyes also narrowed, but his hard gaze was now fixed upon the tall aristocrat beside the girl. Lovino winced as he saw the flame begin to blaze in his friend's eyes and how his body tensed up in anticipation of a fight. Oh crap. He shot Gilbert a pointed look. Let it go, you stupid bastard. Gilbert glared back at him, but slowly unclenched his muscles.

"Well then!" Rome clapped his hands and rubbed them together favorably, clearly not having sensed any of the tension that had just taken place. "Ah… Roderich? If I may introduce to you my two grandsons, Feliciano and Lovino Vargas." He gestured to each of them in turn. Lovino frowned. His grandfather always introduced his brother first. I'm the oldest, dammit! Why does he make Feli seem so much better than me?

Roderich turned to face the two of them. Lovino felt his knees go weak under the piercing violet-eyed scrutiny as it traveled up his body, taking in the full extent of his filthy clothes and skin. He somehow managed to hold his ground, but was all too aware of his resolve melting like ice under the hot noontime sun. Feliciano seemed to have no such qualms however. He smiled brightly and held out his spotless hand for the man to shake. (2)

"Salve! It's very nice to meet you sir."

Roderich's gaze softened a little, and he shook Feliciano's hand formally.

"The pleasure is all mine. So!" he went on. "Do you play any musical instruments?"

Feliciano's large amber eyes sparkled.

"Oh sì, sì! I'm learning to play all kinds of beautiful music. Grandpa Rome is teaching me. I'm also learning to draw!"

"Really? That's quite impressive." Roderich regarded Feliciano with a new-found interest. "What about you, boy?" Lovino felt his stomach clench as the man turned to him. "What can you do?"

Lovino clenched his fists and opened his mouth, trying to force something out. But the sound choked in his throat before he could form it into words. Face burning, cursing his shyness, he scuffed his foot furiously into the dust. Rome laughed, not unkindly, but Lovino felt his heart wrench a little.

"Oh, our little Lovi! He's more of a 'physical' sort of boy, you know? Always going outside and such…"

"I see." Roderich's violet eyes became cold and indifferent, and he observed Lovino for a few more seconds, just long enough for him to become unbearably uncomfortable. He finally scowled up at Roderich, and his facial change seemed to confirm something to the man, who smirked in a rather self-satisfied way.

"Boy." Roderich addressed him, gesturing to the luggage behind him still in the carriage. "If you wouldn't mind, our things need to be taken inside."

A servant girl stepped forward, but Rome waved her away.

"No need, María! I'm sure Lovi doesn't mind." He looked at Lovino. "Do you?" Lovino felt his head shake itself 'no', even though inside he was kicking himself. Of course he minded! Is this jerk going to keep ordering me around? I hope this doesn't become a regular thing…

Roderich and the others trailed inside, he and Rome making polite conversation while Feliciano chattered incessantly to no one in particular. Elizabeta brought up the rear and she gave one last look behind her, catching the eyes of Gilbert, who had been all but forgotten. They held each other's gaze for a moment before she eventually turned away, continuing on into the house. For a moment all was silent, and then-

"Mein Gott!" Gilbert burst out. "What the hell was all that about, huh?"

Lovino felt his irritation rising once more and barely managed to push it back down again. Ignoring his friend, he grabbed their guests' things, managing with difficulty to lift them in his short arms. Grunting with exertion, he started to lug the heavy baggage towards the front door. Gilbert stood by, gazing keenly up at one of the high windows of the manor.

"What are you doing, you bastard, just standing there? Help me, dammit!" Lovino finally exclaimed after a few successive moments of this. Gilbert shook himself out of his reverie, and looked bemusedly over at Lovino.

"Ah, help. Right. Sure thing." He grabbed one of the bags, and together the two of them hauled their load up into the hallway of the Vargas estate.

What does the future hold now? I can sense change on the horizon, though just how much I can't be sure of. But I have a feeling things will be different from here on out.

A/N: So you see. Austria's a mega-douche. Sorry about that, but yea, he's to be the main "villain", if you can call it that. Hey, I'm 1/8 pure Austrian, so don't say it wasn't a hard decision to go against my origins. Also- *snickers* No AusHun here. If you didn't figure it out by Austria's abusive gestures. PRUHUN FOR TEH WIN. *waves shipping flag*

Germany will also come into play later, as well as... OHMYGOD I FORGOT SPAIN...! ... Heh. Just kidding. He WILL make an appearance. This is Spamano, after all.

(1)- Please take note of these "other names". They WILL come into play later.

(2)- FFFFFFFFFF- Every time I write Italy, I just picture him as Patrick Star, being a weenie. "May I take you hat, sir? May I take your hat, sir?" XD

And yea. Grandpa Rome. You DON'T now how long I toiled with his underdeveloped character. Plus he doesn't have a human name, which made it really hard to write him. :/ Lovino's feelings are all platonic for him, just so you know. I just tried really hard to play out his starving for attention from the man.

...And also Romano's shyness around people. That gets put into use quite a bit, at least in this chappy. Thought it fit, him being younger and all.

In case you don't know, (but I'm sure you do), the human names are:
Lovino Vargas- Romano
Feliciano Vargas- Italy
Gilbert Beilschmidt- Prussia
Roderich Edelstein- Austria
Elizabeta Héderváry- Hungary

Questions? Comments? Concerns? Put 'em in a review! :] Bæ~!