Well, not what I had planned. Oh well, I hope you will enjoy anyway. I'm planning to do a lot of one-shots that have to deal with war and things of that nature, because history is full of it. So I got to thinking that Italy, may not be the loveable ditz we all know and love, he does have a lot of pain. While the italian empire was never truly weak it wasn't that strong, so perhaps Italy is shown to be weak because he has a reason to be.
DISCLAIMER I DO NOT OWN HETALIA OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS
Another war, another battle, its all the same when one thinks about it. Its a never ending cycle. Taking lives, winning, losing, loved ones lost, land gained, land lost. What makes them different is the names and who your fighting with or against.
The horrors of war had never been lost on Italy, he was a country that had many wars in his lifetime. At first, perhaps, he hadn't realized what was happening, what went on in and around his borders. He would sit with Grandpa Rome drawing and laughing without a care in the world.
It wasn't until he showed up in the picture. They had fun together and he never realized that he loved him until that day. Perhaps it was nativity and innocence that made him believe that he would return to him unscathed, yet another war come and gone. He hadn't witnessed a war but he had heard about them. In fact a lot of them went on, not around him he didn't think but further away. Maybe it was half a century, when his voice cracked and he began to look like a boy that he realized that this yearning that he had for that boy wasn't going to bring him back any sooner. He was never told that the war had ended years ago. His two parental figures hadn't wanted him to cause the pain ruin the child. Perhaps, that was the reason he clung on for so long.
It wasn't until he heard of the germanic union forming that with crushing awareness that this false hope, that whatever he clung onto now was going to get him no where. That it was too long and though wars hadn't been a big thought on his mind he figured that no war could go on for that long. That he wasn't coming back to him to eat sweets, that their happy lives that they could've had were nothing but childish whims.
He grew up and lead a rebellion against the man who raised and nurtured him along with his brother. They won, and then he knew what war was, that it was nothing glorious or valorous. It was unfair that his brother was able to return to his care taker and visit on a friendly term.
A phobia is what some call it, others call it self preservation, some of the crueler ones call it cowardice. He had long since forgotten the boy whom he was infatuated with, except he didn't. He knew that in his dreams he longed for the blonde hair blue eyed boy to return and linger in his embrace.
War was not what he thought it was, nor did he still understand it. He couldn't force himself to fight, others were doing it. Two nations in particular were at war with each other, constantly it seemed. France and Britain. They seemed strong and ruthless, Italy was scared of them. Not because they were slowly becoming empires that could surpass him, no doubt that the empire his grandfather had built would remain the greatest, no it was because the fought, without much care, maybe it was because they fought they thought themselves untouchable, he had once thought that, and look were that got him. Italy was worried because France and Britain could easily lose themselves in their fights, they could die before their reign began.
War changes people, he had seen what it had done to his beloved. He knew that his heart was a fragile thing, the metaphorical version at least. He vowed that he would never love again. Love was somewhere you had to meet in the middle on at times, and as a nation, sometime no matter how much you want to you can't.
Old wounds never reopen. It was something he had heard along time ago. Whoever said it was a liar, because right now, a large one just reopened and he felt himself bleeding out, but it was a slow bleed, not one that would kill him now, but later, he would die. Those eyes were his that hair color belonged to him that stern expression it was his not the stranger, who was never really a stranger Italy thought, with the funny accent and the intimidating air.
Italy tried to beg and plead his way out of the situation but when he was asked something, what he does not recall, it was something about his grandfather, he felt something he hadn't in a long time, he felt his heart clench in the good way.
He vowed to see if he really knew the man before him or if it was fleeting moment that was brought on by him finally going insane.
Being his friend was never in the plan, being a real friend, his only friend, was certainly not! He grew to like the man. Italy played the fool and nobody assumed anything. Except for maybe him. It shocked Italy when he realized that when he thought of him it was not longer its original meaning. War must've changed that as well since he could never do that it his beloved.
World War I came and went. It wasn't a long battle, it was short, like most others. He was pleasantly intrigued when the former British Empire and the Ex-british colony had fought on the same side. Italy was sure that the englishman would've finally learnt the cost of war when he lost the now American Empire.
Twenty years or so of silent suffering Italy had to watch him suffer. He worried about one man in particular, his ideals strange and new, but they gave the people hope and he needed that. He didn't want that man to become the leader, something of off putting about him. Italy had to agree.
By now it didn't care that he never thought of the original him he grew to accept it like many other things war changed. This war was different however, even though it was the same, power and land struggles. The difference was that the personification of the nation wasn't in agreement with his boss. Italy had never witnessed it. Maybe then that's when he finally stopped thinking about the original and looked at what was in front of him for the first time and actually saw him not a shadow.
He stayed at the beginning because he knew that there was a high possibility that this war would be easily won by him. The fear was back that if he closed his eyes for a moment or two he would vanish. That's why he was so attached, he told himself.
For maybe the first year he was like himself. Something in him slowly changed. At first Italy ignored it thinking it was his paranoia again. The change became more noticeable however.
He, before World War II began would sometimes smile at his antics, albeit a small one, that was gone a second after it was placed on his face. He would also care for himself, it was nice, Italy hadn't had this type of attention since the original. Soon both of them became rarer and then not even there. Italy panicked, growing more attached then what he had intended. Which ended badly for him because there is a fine line between loving some one who's a friend and loving a friend.
It scared Italy at the beginning because he knew that he would abandon him and never speak to him again, because in the mind of his boss, what Italy wanted was wrong, and even though he was a nation he would still get sent to one of those camps.
Italy ignored it for the longest time. He noticed it. He could do nothing about it. So Italy panicked. The war was going badly, he could lose a friend, and he was done fighting. He was destroying himself, it was obvious. Italy couldn't watch so he didn't. He left him Italy regretted it. It was wrong, it felt like what he went through when he lost the original again.
The war was over soon. He lost. Italy watched as he was punished yet again. But he seemed like he was glad it was over. When the terms were read, and the punishment dealt. He looked at Italy and something in his eyes made Italy want to sob. Italy wanted to punish himself because of what had happened so many hundreds of years ago. It was the repeat cycle. Once again something changed, and Italy could believe his eyes. There was something that was different and he couldn't figure out what it was.
Italy waited. The wall fell, everyone was happy, well except for the Russian, but that was not the point.
Standing there he waited. Where he promised. Italy didn't know if this was stupid he was about to leave when he showed up. Italy swallowed, he was caught.
Things were whispered, and actions done once they got home. Italy couldn't contain himself any longer, even if he wouldn't understand it.
"I was wrong in the beginning. You aren't him." Italy whispered.
He gave Italy a confused look.
Italy only smiled and said. "He wasn't you. You're you. War really does cause change, but not all of its bad."
He was still confused. Italy could tell. He smiled and he knew that you would explain in time.
Yes war has changes. Italy knew war was never a good thing. He hated it, feared it even. Feared the nations who relished in it. Knew what loss was, knew what love was. He knew everything but himself. He no longer polluted his thoughts. He was dead. But him on the other hand was certainly not, and promised not to be for a long time. Italy believed this.
Woo~ Its done. I know its kind of weird how I wrote it, but I like it. I assume you guys can figure out who the two he are, but here they are anyway.
Original - Holy Roman Empire
Second - Germany.
Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think. I may do a spinoff of this one. I don't know yet. Later! ~IF