Lovino sat slumped in a chair, contemplating his miserable life with surprising clarity. He viewed the problem as one that belonged to someone else, and didn't let his own personal feelings for his brother get in the way. He was overshadowed by his brother in basically every way; people loved being with Feliciano more, thought he was cute, loved his art and his buildings and how adorable he was.

Lovino thought he might vomit. His brother, the 'cute' one, the 'nice' one, the one that didn't have every sentence that came out of his mouth interspersed with profanities, was more than the other idiotic nations thought. He could be a cruel, scheming bastard when he wanted to. Lovino gently pressed an old bullet wound on his shoulder, and traced his other hand across a long scar on his stomach. Both wounds left by darling Feli when he had tried to get the land that was 'rightfully his.' Now that Lovino was no longer under Antonio's protection, he was as good as dead. It was only a matter of time before Feliciano decided once and for all that there should only be one Italy, and got rid of the man standing in the way.

Oh, sure, Lovino controlled the mafia, but Feliciano was as good as an assassin in his own right. What was he supposed to do? Go crying to Antonio yet again? No. He was free now, and he had to deal with things by himself. The only question was; how would he be able to live forever with the imminent threat of the Northern half of Italy looming over him.

The answer was simple, really. Almost frightening in its simplicity. He would have to kill his brother before he was killed himself. Lovino chuckled to himself as he was getting ready, he knew this encounter would end in one of two ways. Either he died, or his brother did. There could be no peace; a house divided could not stand.

He grabbed his favorite pistol and stuck it in his back pocket, slipped on a brace of knives, and slid a thin wire that could easily be used to strangle someone into his other free pocket. Thus armed, and with a few other surprises on his person, he set out to kill his brother, with a mind set in stone and an ice-cold heart.

Lovino arrived at Feliciano's house right as the sun was lowering in the sky, staining it a deep red. He considered this an omen, though of which impending death, he could not say. He didn't knock; he had stolen a key the last time he'd visited. Doubtless Feliciano had one of his keys as well, what better place to kill someone than in the safety of their own home?

Lovino walked though the spacious hallways, pulling his gun out of his pocket and cocking it. He had to be ready to fire in a split second, because his brother was fast. Luckily, the element of surprise was on Lovino's side. Feliciano was standing with Ludwig, the potato bastard he had managed to fool.

In all honesty, Lovino did not hate Ludwig. In fact, he respected him. He insulted him, and tried to get him to leave his brother alone, because he couldn't stand to have another nation drawn in by Feliciano's charms. The façade he put up that sucked others in, of a weak, helpless nation. They were drawn to him, felt the need to protect him. Fools. They never tried to pull the mask away; never thought that there might be a mask in the first place.

But that didn't matter now, because Lovino was going to be rid of him. He took a deep breath, and raised his gun-

"Lovi!" Feliciano chirped, twirling around. Lovino hated him for that; hated him for using the nickname Antonio had given him. Feliciano had no right. "Lovi, you're just in time- wait, Lovi, why are you holding a gun?" Ludwig whirled around at that while drawing his own weapon, deceived by the false innocence in Feli's voice.

"I'm holding a gun because I'm going to kill you, Feli." Lovino let the words fall off his tongue with a feel of finality. They were said; there was no going back. A tight knot of hatred coiled in his stomach, only strengthening his iron will to do what he had to and murder his brother.

"Oh, put your gun away, Ludwig! Brother Lovi's just kidding, right?" Feliciano smiled, and clung to Ludwig. But Lovino wasn't stupid. He could see the careful manipulation, the fake act that his brother was putting on. Feliciano was an expert at exploiting other's feelings and actions. Ludwig would think Feli was being an airhead as usual, and that Lovino had finally snapped.

"You're a dead man, Feliciano." Lovino pulled his finger on the trigger, but before he could complete the shot, Ludwig instinctively fired to protect Feliciano, the one he loved, the one that was using him.

As Lovino fell backwards, his pierced heart trying and failing to beat, the last thing he saw was his brother's smiling face, lightly splattered with Lovino's blood, grinning like all of his wishes had come true.

And, Lovino supposed, they had. Feli had the land that was 'rightfully his,' and no one would question Lovino going insane. Everyone thought he had issues anyway. His last thought before slipping into the darkness was that, maybe, Antonio would miss him.

Maybe.

Authoress' Random Ramble

So, in every fic where South Italy dies because of North Italy, it's almost always suicide. I decided to make it different, because I think that Feli does have the opportunity to be one of those 'innocent' people that you don't suspect until it's too late. So, read/love/review?

Less than three. less than three