Autor note and disclaimer: Axis Power Hetalia and its characters belong to Himaruya Hidekaz and whoever else owns it.
Summary: Italy dies but he cannot find peace in his paradise as long as he knows that Germany suffers.
Genre: Angst/Sci-fi/Romance. WW2-AU ( which means: Not historically accurate to a few exceptions. )
Warning: Characters death, sensitive WW2-related stuffs and Yaoi ( nothing hardcore though, if you can handle innuendos)
Pairings: Eventual Ger/Ita, America/Romano if you squint very hard, some other pairings. I'm still a Spain/Romano fan!
What will not happen: Germany/Prussia. Fluff that could happen between them is only brotherly love.
Il mio paradisio non puo esistere. ( In deine Hölle)
My paradise cannot exist ( In your hell)
The world around him was confusing and incredibly messy.
He was running across the field and all was shattering around him. The ground, the trees, even the sky seemed like they were falling down, breaking into pieces, projecting shards flying through the tick air, sharp like glass, and cutting through his clothes and skin.
the air was suffocating, it smelled foul and was leaving an horrible copper-like taste of blood on the tip of his tongue. He was panting heavily, his mouth was dry, his throat was sore and his lungs were burning, but he couldn't stop. He had to go on, and keep running forward, always forward.
The noise was deafening, a painful cacophony of screams, explosions, shouts, plane engines, bullets whistling next to his ears, shattering grounds, moans of agony, the mix of it all sounded inhuman even though it was the symphony of what humans could do best: War.
He didn't stop to analyze the situation, not once! A single moment of hesitation could very well be his last. His hand that held the gun didn't tremble. He gritted his teeth, aimed but couldn't help closing his eyes every time he had to shot.
He had never wanted to fight in the first place, he had joined that war in hope to bring in peace.
He had believed it could be possible.
But his white flag has been snatched off his hand and replaced by a gun, he didn't want it, but no Nation- not even the most powerful ones- could ever disobey their boss.
And he has never been powerful.
And his boss wanted him to fight.
He swallowed his sobs and kept running, his soldiers falling behind and in front of him, he couldn't stop to grieve, he'd cry for them later.
On his blue uniform, no longer pristine, crimson blossomed in patches, but he ignored the bleeding. For once, he would be brave, he would make his allies proud , he would show them all the true value of the Italian army.
Germany would be so happy and Italy would prove himself worthy of being his friend.
He could no longer hear the stir of the battlefield over the sound of his own breath, which was becoming hoarse, and he could no longer see hell breaking lose around him.
Tears were making everything so blurry.
A burning tree broke and fell, barely missing him as he ran past it.
He wiped the water from his eyes with his dirty sleeve, clenched his teeth and moved on.
A plane crashed only ten yards away, but he couldn't stop to check which army it belonged to, or if the pilot was still alive and could be saved, even though he really wanted to help, he couldn't afford to do so. When the battle would be over, he'd help as much peoples as he could.
Somewhere else, something was happening, something that would drastically change all the plans that had been so meticulously made.
He didn't even feel it. Maybe was it because the feeling of uncertainty wasn't his. He was too focused on his goal, it was going further than the line of his stretched arm or the target in front of his gun. He was aiming for a promise he had made and the hope of a better future for the world.
Of course, he didn't know everything yet, he was too naive.
He still believed that peace could be gained through war, he had yet to realize the situation he had forced himself into.
He had thought they were in control, but they had been manipulated from the start.
It happened, almost in the blink of an eye, the atmosphere around him changed. It was like the branch of a clock suddenly stood still, not even for a second, then moved again but backward.
Someone yelled something. The line of soldiers who have been running before him suddenly stopped.
He didn't see it and kept running and firing at the enemies.
His men turned around in one perfect movement that would have made the German army envious.
Italy was about to encourage them into not giving up the fight. But, with the same synchronized perfection, they lifted their guns and aimed.
At him.
Veneziano stopped and looked at them, confused for a moment, but he quickly understood.
And forgave immediately.
-" Where do I have to sign?"
With a victorious smile, America pointed a dotted line on the paper. " Here"
Without any hesitation, Romano signed his name on the piece of paper that would make his alliance with the allies official.
'I'm sorry, brother!' He thought while adding the national stamp next to his signature on the document. 'Unlike you, I know what is good for my country and peoples, and for now on, I'll be the only one who will represent them. The decision is theirs, not mine.'
No emotion showed on his face when he placed the pen back in his pocket, but Romano was crying inside. The decision to kill his brother was truly not his, but there was nothing else he could have done.
America opened his arms wide. " Congratulation, Italy!"
Veneziano Vargas forced a smile on his dirty features.
His peoples' will was the only thing that mattered. They were the ones that had made his existence possible.
He could only accept his former peoples' decision. If they didn't want him to exist anymore, all he could do was feeling grateful for having been given the opportunity to live such a long and wonderful life.
There was only one sound when all guns fired.
His last thought was for Germany. Veneziano prayed that his friend would make it through this war, even though he had lost an ally and gained a new foe.
TBC