Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Holy Roman Empire's Story
The small kid stumbled across the battlefield, his eyes dead to the world. He could feel it within himself the death of a nation, the death of all that he had once known. Even as he walked he could feel Napoleon advancing, destroying all that made him the Holy Roman Empire. If he laid down right here would he simply fade away? What happened to a country that died?
He breathed faintly and laid down to rest. He thought death would come for him, the day when Francis the Second abdicated. But it didn't. Yet that day was a cold one nonetheless, but nothing compared to what happened afterward. Thirty years of more pain and devastation. In the beginning he had hoped, hoped that maybe the empire could come back together. United on a single goal. But as each year came by and the situation only grew worse, he finally decided that it would be better for his people, if they stopped fighting.
Holy Roman Empire reached out a hand, dragging it through the grass, reaching for something that wasn't there. Putting thoughts of the war away from his mind, he thought of the one thing that would always cheer him up. For a moment, he could almost see a flyaway red lock of hair, smell a fresh scent of tomatoes and herbs, but then it was gone. He would never forget the look on Italy's face when he rode off to war, the promise buried deep within his soul. It was certain now that he wouldn't be able to keep that promise. But at least he got to spend some time with her. He prayed silently, his lips breathing out the words.
God, if you are out there, please let the Italy live. Let her become a strong nation like her Grandpa Rome, but not too strong, so that she breaks under the pressure.
After that, he was at a lost what to do. Too weak to move and to exhausted to care, he simply stayed where he was until the last glimmers of the sun faded over the horizon. Holy Roman Empire blinked, the darkness in his eyelids matching that of the world around him. His breathing slowed, and he had difficultly remembering what he had just been thinking about. Clear, brown eyes came into focus in his mind. But whose? The harder he strained, the more they faded.
A terrible pain was in his chest and he felt as if he was being ripped apart. Why did it hurt so much? Why couldn't it just end? The boy grimaced, his mouth opening slightly to let out a quiet whimper. Trying to collect his thoughts, he opened one eye. He was lying in a field. But he couldn't fathom why. His name was... lost. His breathing grew slower and slower until it finally just stopped altogether. His eyes had long since shut and his mind stilled. Thus came the end of the boy named Holy Roman Empire.