"As long as I'm with you I get fed and nobody picks on me! I like being here~"
-Italy, Hetalia: Axis Powers

This was what he liked about life.
Warm summer days sitting on a hill, the sweet aroma of flowers as they gently swayed. The cool breeze gently kissing the bruised skin of his arms. On days like this, he could almost forget all about how life really was. In fact, anyone that saw this boy would have believed him to be the happiest child ever to have walked the Earth.
"Francis!"
The boy sat up, picking a few pieces of grass out of his long, golden hair. He looked around to find the source of the noise. His eyes finally rested on a head of messy blonde hair running up the hill towards him. The other boy plopped to the ground next to him and gasped for breath.
"There... There you are..." He breathed. "I waited... by the rocks for you... Wh..." He breathed in slowly. "Where were you?"
"Sorry, Arthur." The golden haired boy said, his accent not one that would be expected normally in the british countryside. "I had chores to do."
"Ah..." Arthur's eyes rested on the dark bruises that stood out against the french boy's pale skin. "Your father... did he...?"
Francis covered the bruises with his other hand. "N-No! I fell on my way here!" He smiled. "No need to worry."
Arthur didn't seem to believe his words. Everyone in that area knew that the head of the Bonnefoy house was a drunkard, and was known to be very violent in such a state. In fact, unknown to his friend, Francis had actually received these bruises for spilling a glass of water the night before. But he was a proud boy, and was not about to tell his friend how he earned the beating.
"Arthur!" A woman's voice called out from the valley.
"I'll make it up to you." Francis said, helping his friend up. "After supper, meet me at ze rocks, alright?"
"Alright." The boy smiled. "Bye, Frog!"
"Au revoir, Artie." He smirked as his friend left. This was what he liked most about his life: His one and only friend, Arthur Kirkland."

I suppose I should explain something. See, long ago when countries were just beginning, the leaders alone could not support the weight of the people. So something happened to help them. No one knows how or when it first started, or even why it happened, but it did.
Sometimes, when a child would die, they would come back to life as a personification of their country, to keep order and to help control their people. Yes, it's sad, but they are granted eternal youth and immortality in exchange for their labors.
Such was the case of a little boy named Feliciano- one in a pair of twins accidentally killed in a war between Austria and a few other countries. When he and his brother woke up as countries, his brother was dragged away and he was left at the mercy of Austria.
"Italy! Get out here!"
The boy groaned and stood up, feeling pain shoot through his tiny back. He had just finished scrubbing the entire entryway floor, and it shone like a mirror.
"Italy!"
"C-Coming!" He ran towards the door, accidentally slipping on the wet tile. He fell to the ground painfully. "Ow!"
He felt a hand grab his and pull him back up. "Ve~ Thank-a you so very much-"
Two sky blue eyes stared at him, almost burning a hole into him. "Aaa!" He leapt back. "S-Sorry sir! Sorry!" He rushed past, running into the piano room without glancing back.
The blonde boy just stood there, shocked, then slowly walked towards where Feliciano had disappeared.
"Italy!" Austria glared at the boy. "What took you so long?"
"Sorry Mr. Austria. I slipped and-"
"Be quiet." He pointed at the window. "What is that?"
The boy timidly walked over to where the stronger country pointed. There, on the window, was a handprint smudged onto the glass. "Uh.. A hand?"
"Ja. Und why is there a handprint on my window?"
"I... I don't know." He shrugged. "Someone was leaning on the glass?"
Austria folded his arms. "Well, it wasn't Hungary or I."
"Maybe it was H- Holy-"
"He would know better than to do that." The stronger country glared at him again.
"But it wasn't me!"
"You're obviously lying. No supper for you and you can go spend the rest of the day scrubbing the kitchen floor, after you clean my window."
"Y-Yes sir..."
He heard Austria leave the room, and started wiping off the glass with his apron. He cried softly, hating his life so much. "It's not-a fair..." He whimpered. "It's not my fault the glass was dirty... Austria just doesn't underst-"
He jumped, hearing the door open and close. "Aaa! Sorry sir!" He wiped the tears away and got back to cleaning the glass. "I wasn't crying, I swear! Don't-a hurt me..."
A hand was placed on his back, and he felt someone pull him away from the glass and hold him tightly. He let his sobbing go, not caring who his comforter was at this moment. All he really knew was that someone cared enough to hold him.
The hands left him, and he heard the sound of someone cleaning off the glass. He curled up in a ball, afraid to open his eyes and see no one there, and that he had been hallucinating.
"It's alright. Don't be frightened. I cleaned the glass for you." A gentle voice said. There was a soft kiss placed on his forehead, then he heard footsteps. Sitting up, he opened his eyes and called out: "Wait!"
With the door slightly opened, the cloaked figure stopped, and then turned to face him, his blue eyes sparkling kindly.
"Hol... Holy Rome...?" Italy breathed in surprise.
The other boy blushed and turned away, running out of the room and leaving the poor Italian boy alone again.