It's always the last person you'd suspect

"Ah, Ita-chan wrote to me again!" the gleeful Holy Roman Empire cheered. This was something he'd really needed, for years he's been fighting stressful battles.

The note was short but sentimental. It put a smile on the scarred face of his.

Dear Holy Rome,

Ciao, how are you? You are alive right? If you are dead, I will die to. Survive.

Love, Italia

P.S. Write back soon~!

He smiled as he picked up his quill and dipped to soft, snow-white feather into the pitch black ink. As he began to write the door slammed open. In surprise he yelped and dropped the ink bottle on the floor. The shadowy substance from inside the bottle flowed on the floor like blood.

"What is it?!" he yelled, turning around to see his elder brother, Prussia.

"West, France is invading!" he said frantically, ignoring the anger in his young brother's voice.

Holy Rome tucked the parchment he was writing his letter on, in his coat, and began to walk out of the room. He grabbed a sword, sitting on his little wooden desk on his way out. Then, to Prussia, he turned and said,"Prepare the army."

He arrived outside of his old worn out mansion where the rays of the beating sun invaded his eyes. He shielded his wide eyes from the sun to peer into the horizon where he saw the silhouettes of the group of people that obviously are the French army.

"Pray for me, Italy!" he whispered to himself as his men backed him up. He turned to his troops.

"On my count, we charge, one, two, three, go!"

All hell broke lose as the heavily-armored men started running towards the enemy. Soon, the two armies clashed, and blood was shed, turning green grass, to crimson. The rich, auburn soil was soaked with the essential thick substance that runs through every woman's and man's veins and arteries. Holy Rome caught the caped figure with the flowing, shiny, golden locks in the corner of his eyes. He saw that France was looking at him, and began to get a sick feeling. Suddenly, he saw he was coming closer, slashing a few of his men out of the way.

Fuck...I have to run, he thought. Before he had a chance to take off, he felt himself being hit in the back by a sword, knocking him to the ground. And coughed and looked up. France was directly over him, reaching a hand out to grab him and run.

"Listen Holy Rome, I will kill you, and if you scream I'll hunt down all the people you love and kill them. I am not going to lose," France hissed into the little boys ear.

Italy...

Tears swelled into his eyes. He was afraid to die. He was frightened at the thought of leaving this gorgeous world. Though it is cruel, there are so many things he'd miss. Worst of all, he knew he'd never be able to see Italy again.

"Ja...if I cooperate, you will not hurt Italy...not Hungary...not Austria...and not Prussia," he confirmed with France.

His collar pressed into his neck as he was being dangled and ran with, away from where anyone could see. As soon as the coast was clear he threw the tiny kid's body down to the ground.

"Now, I can't be stopped by meddlers," France said in a hushed voice as he pointed his blade at Holy Rome's chest. Trembling, Holy Rome started breathing heavily, being at another man's mercy...except in this case, there is no mercy.

The nation braced himself as the sword began to slice him down to the stomach. He knew if he made a sound he'd be putting his loved ones in danger, and put in his greatest effort to not scream. The sword practically traveled on his body, sinking into his chest, his stomach, his muscles. But he hadn't died. Not yet.

"You're a hardy boy, but you need to die," said France.

He then buried the sword into his sides, and stepped on his chest. Coughing up blood, he lied there as France began to stomp on him, breaking his bones, possibly even giving him internal bleeding. As he did this, he reached into his coat and pulled out his parchment paper with one shaking, weak hand. He dipped his finger in his own blood and began to write: "IT WAS FRANCE".

When his pulse fell, and it seemed obvious he was going to die, he hauled him over his shoulders and carried him back to the battle field. As he passed all the men they slowly stopped fighting. The Frenchman made his way to the center of the field and raised his hand.

"The Holy Roman Empire now is no longer existing. He is dead! Surrender now!"

With that being said he threw the body to the ground. The Holy Roman Empire's army called a retreat. Prussia shoved his way to get to where France dumped the body of his kid brother.

"OUT OF MY WAY, DAMN IT!"

He kneeled by Holy Rome's limp body.

"West, wake up!" he screamed. Prussia put two fingers to the artery in the right side of his neck. One beat...nothing...another beat...nothing...another beat...he's still alive. Suddenly, the young, dying nation opened his eyes a crack.

"Brother...give this to Italy...tell her what...happened to me!" he cried weakly, handing his brother his blood drenched letter.

"No, you'll be alright!" Prussia assured.

His heart is beating, he's still alive, France can't know, he thought, picking up Holy Rome's body, and sprinting to the mansion. When he got a healer, he was even closer to death than before.

I've known him since I was born, why would he try to kill me.

Selfish bastard.

Hours later, Holy Rome woke. He tried to stretch his arms out, but winced in pain. Staring at the door, he watched it open, welcoming in Prussia.

"You're awake! I was so worried!"

"Oh sir...what do you mean? Would you mind telling me what's going on?" the recovering nation asked politely.

"Brother, what are you talking about?"

"Uhn...brother...what?"

He has...amnesia, Prussia thought in shock.

"Who am I, who are you, and what's going on?!" Holy Rome cried.

I can't call him the Holy Roman Empire...what...I've got it, Prussia thought again.

"You...are...Germany. Your nickname is West. I am your brother, Prussia. You just got beaten in battle, but this will make you stronger."

Years later

"Ve...France! What are you doing here it's nice to see you!" Italy exclaimed happily.

"Ah, Italy...there is something...I need to tell you..." France replied grimly.

"Hah?"

"You remember...The Holy Roman Empire...right?" he asked.

Italy's heart skipped a beat at the name. His first love. The person he's been waiting for...for years.

"S-Si..?"

"Well...the Holy Roman Empire is no more...he's been gone for a long time, actually. But I think it's best you forget about the boy. You've already suffered enough, haven't you?"

"No...you're...lying..."

"I am not lying. He's dead."