A blonde child was sitting amongst the blood and flesh on the unsightly green grass. A short man had a sword to his throat, a grin of evil displayed on his face. "The Holy Roman Empire has fallen at the hands of France!" The man shouts, and cheers are heard from all the men, except the nation the man was referring to. France had a solemn look on his face, but in his mind he was fighting a war. One side of his cheered with joy and wanted to behead the young nation, while the other knew that if he did such a thing he nor Italie will ever forgive him. That side of him fought the hardest. If he saved the child now, his people would hate him. But was it worth it if for a century, maybe two, his people hated and despised him or for the rest of eternity his best friend, and his younger brother hated him with all their hearts. He had to make a quick decision for Napoleon was raising his sword to behead the small child. In a quick instant France stopped the short man before he had made up his mind.
"What are you doing?" Napoleon asked, a threat in his voice and a glare on his face. France simply looked down at the small man who could do nothing to hurt him. France remained silent as he stared at the man. The sword was ripped from the blonde's hand and replaced at his throat (Napoleon had a long sword apparently). The nation did a sharp intake of breath as the metal was pushed into his windpipe. "Do you dare commit treason to save an enemy?" The man asked, and the nation could've laughed. Is it even possible for a nation to commit treason against itself?
"Do you dare try and kill your country?" Is the Frenchman's response. The stare-er glaredown continued for a few minutes before France had gotten tired and tried to push the sword away from his throat only for Napoleon to slash his hand and replace the sword by his major artery. The gash on his hand was only a minor cut, in his eyes. In the soldiers eyes however, the blondes hand was gushing blood onto the already bloodstained ground. "Will you behead me? What do you think happens when you kill you're own country? Here's a hint; think of Rome." France states, slightly annoyed with the small man's antics.
"So you will give up everything to save an enemy? You will destroy all we have done for one Empire? For a barbarian country?!" Napoleon asks, digging the metal into France's throat, but the blonde paid it no heed. He simply looked down at the man.
"Yes. I find it is better to have people hate you, than have nations want to murder you." France states, and walks away from the man and picks up the small child. Napoleon was not happy with his Nation's ideals. He sliced at the young boy in France's arm, but thankfully the Frenchman was quick enough to protect his head, but impact of the slash caused France to hit Holy Rome's head. While insignificant at the time, it would have a great impact in the future. "Go home or move forward. Do not follow me." France instructs and swiftly struts to his old friend's home. Who will probably try and murder him when he gets there.
"What am i thinking!?" France asks himself as he walks through the forest. Out of anyone's earshot. "I'm going to jail when i get back. Ugh, that's going to be so annoying. And l'Angleterre will just make fun of me for being imprisoned in my own country too! He'll probably think that it was because I was nude or because I was being perverted!" France complains and starts to ramble as he walks on the path to his friend's cabin.
"What. Are. You. Doing. Here." Prussia orders as the Frenchman enters the clearing his home is in.
"I come in peace without an army. " The Frenchman states, putting one hand up since the other was holding HRE.
"Why?" Is all the Prussian asks.
"Because I have someone you want and I need to ask you something before I get hauled off to prison in my own country." France replies, looking serious.
This only proceeded to confuse the Albino nation, but he nevertheless let his old friend in. "So, who do you have? And why are you going to be arrested?" Prussia asks as the Frenchman sits on the couch. The Prussian takes a seat in the chair opposite to the horrid green thing. France lays the child down on the couch so his head is resting on the armrest.
"Napoleon was going to behead him." France states, figuring Prussia could guess who this is. "I stopped him. I figure that once I return I'll be arrested for Treason." France explains, looking at the small breathing form instead of the man across from him.
"Don't people pay for treason by being hanged? Or having the head's chopped off?" Prussia asks, remembering the one time he was lucky enough to sneak into a French town and witnessed someone being beheaded by a machine built solely to do so. He shakes his head and turns his attention back to the current situation and the Frenchman in front of him.
"Oui, but they do not know what will happen if they kill me. So they'll probably settle for imprisonment. You know, part of me wanted this child to die, but that was just my citizens. My own self was stronger, my subconscious was stronger. I had saved him before I even made up my mind. The only reason I could convince myself to allow me to commit such a treason would be that you and Italie would not hate me. And that I would not hate me as much as I knew I would if I had let him do away with the child. " France states, looking down at the child sadly.
The child starts to stir and raises his head. The first thing he sees is the Albino. "Who're you?' He asks, his voice weak. "Who-Who am I?" He asks, confusion spread across all three nation's faces.
At first no one knew how to reply, but Prussia slowly got up, walked over and crouched by the child. "I'm your big bruder Prussia, but you can call me Gilbert, or just Gil." Prussia states with a small smile. And France realizes something. The child does not remember anything.
"Do you remember anything other than waking up here?" France asks in a soft tone. The young boy shook his head then winced in pain.
"When I try to remember, it hurts." The child states then is silent.
A silent wave of thoughts passed between the two countries. France got up and left, and as he did he realized that the only people who would not hate him after this would be Gilbert and himself, fore HRE can't remember Italie. France knows what Prussia will do, and knows what he must do as well. A silent tear streaks down his face as he imagines the Italian's sorrow.
"Um, you're- you're name is Germany" Vati would be happy, right? "You're mein younger bruder. You- you also go by the name Ludwig." I might as well give him Vati's human name as well. Prussia states, smiling down at the child.
" Germany. It- it sounds familiar. So-so does Ludwig." The young blonde says, and the albino nods, trying his best not to cry. Any childhood memories or tortures were wiped from the child's mind.
...oooOO A few decades later OOooo...
"Fratello France!" Italy shouts when the older nation opens the door.
"Hello Italie." The Frenchman states, his joyous attitude has yet to return for he only got out of his cell a few months prior. "Is there a reason you're here?" The blonde asks, kinda hoping to drown out his sorrows and pains with any alcohol he had.
"Well I was wondering if you knew what happened to Holy Rome. He- He never came back." Italy states, tears threatening to break through.
"He's underground. 6 feet to be precise. He may or may not have a head though. Didn't bother asking Napoleon what he did with it." France answers coldly. It hurt him to do so, but he refused to cry or break down and tell him what really happened.
"No. No! You're lying! You're a bugiardo!" Italy shouts, tears now flowing freely from his eyes.
"Call me what you will. I couldn't care. If you really don't believe me, ask Prussia. Or better yet, I can show you the grave." France states, reaching to get his jacket while the Italian stares wide-eyed at his elder brother.
For a second he was frozen in place, but he soon bolted from the Frenchman's doorstep. Running away with tears in his eyes. He was running faster than he thought he had ever run before, until he bumped into someone. Italy fell to the ground after he ran into someone he hadn't seen. "Scusate." He mumbles, getting up. A white gloved hand appears before his face and he looked up at the concern Albino nation. He doesn't take the hand, he just stares at the man above him. "Is-Is it true?" Italy's voice cracked. The Prussian simply tilted his head in confusion. "What France told me. Is it true? Is Holy Rome really-"
"Yes." That one word sliced through Italy's mind, stopping every other thought process. "Napoleon removed his head. I saw it myself." The Prussian states, straightening up. The Italian just sat there shaking his head. "You should just forget about him anyway. The Holy Roman Empire was doomed from the start. It was weak. He's gone. There's nothing that could bring him back. So stop waiting. Grow a backbone, and grow up. Life doesn't have happily ever after, it never ends happy for us. You're life will be misery if you let everything affect you like this. So either learn not to care, and find something to distract yourself or become a happy idiot with nothing that disturbs you. Like Russia except be a less scarier version." Prussia states, then walks away without giving the crying nation a second glance, fore he himself was trying desperately not to burst into tears.
"Why aren't i allowed to go outside?" Germany asks as soon as Prussia enters the house.
"You can, you just can't leave it without me or leave the clearing." Prussia states, taking off his boots.
"But why? You leave the clearing all the time." Germany states from the doorway leading to the kitchen.
"Well I'm older than you. And I just remember why I originally left. Sorry I have to leave again." Prussia states and puts his boots back on. Before the blond could speak more the albino leaves.
Prussia sighs as he enters a clearing that was once home to his bruder's troops and his bruder himself. France had asked as his last wish that this camp go untouched and people had abided by his words. The Prussian walked through the tents, heading straight for the largest one. He entered and found it to be simple yet desirable. Even after all these years, it was not a bad place to live. He walked into the tent more and heard crying. He looked behind a trunk and found the Italian bawling his eyes out. "What're you doing here?" The Prussian asks and Italy's head shot up.
"I-I-I-I can't. I can't forget about him. He-he was- he is my first love, my first kiss! I-I can't forget him!" Italy shouts voice cracking every now and then. "Why-Why are you here?" Italy asks, wiping the tears pouring from his eyes. The Prussian looked at the trunk beside him and silently opened it. "What're you looking for?" The Italian asks, moving beside the albino.
"This." Prussia states as he pulls out a small deck brush. The same deck brush Italy gave to Holy Rome before he left. "I wanted to put it on his grave. " The albino states, forcing a small blush. The Italian smiled brightly and kissed the Prussian cheeks before engulfing him in a hug, which just lead to confusion. "What was that for?" The older Nation asked, shocked but the Italian simply smiled, grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the camp. "Not that I don't love the enthusiasm, but his grave is over here." Prussia states and pulls the Italian along much more solemnly than the Italian had down earlier. The reach a small stone and a patch of fresh dirt and flower buds. "I planted them hear earlier. I thought that his grave should have a sign in case the stone disappears." The Albino states and the Italian nods and sinks to his knees. Prussia sets the deck brush down over the dirt, but stays standing.
Italy starts bawling his eyes out again. "Fr-France was- He was so uncaring! He- He didn't seem to care!" Italy shouts, Prussia simply nods. Prussia starts to leave but is stopped by the Italians shouts. "I don't want to see France! Ever! He's a bastardo that's worse than the barbarians whose murdered Nonno!" The brunet shouts, the Albino simply nods and walks away crying silently.
I feel so horrible for writing this but it was on my mind so yeah. you get to read if I have to think it! Anyone Bugiardo means Liar if not obvious. Nonno means Grandpa if not obvious from the context and if i used any other words you don't know comment and I'll tell ya.