New Beginnings
Holy Rome.
Italy? His ears were ringing from the sound of clashing steel, how could he hear him?
The sword in his grip felt heavy. He was absolutely drenched in blood and mud, mud created from the blood. He was almost sure he was injured physically but he could no longer feel it.
Death. Never before has he felt such a massiveamount of death. His people were dying. He felt himself being torn apart. He couldn't think anymore, he was now in primal survival mode.
So, how is it he could hear little Italy? Hey Holy Rome! How are you?Her face flashed in his mind for a moment.
He heard a noise behind him. He spun, pulling his blood-slicked sword with him, cutting his would-be attacker through the middle. He felt the spray of his lifeblood, but it didn't register.
"Italy." He didn't realize he spoke aloud. "You shouldn't be here. You'll get hurt."
I trust Holy Rome. But you're hurt.
"No I'm not," he lied. To prove his point he slew three more of his enemies.
Holy Rome is so strong, through the red mist and the bodies the young solider thought he saw a small figure in a dress, but even you get tired. Perhaps you should take a break.
The young solider panted and moved towards the figure, "I can't. I must fight for my people. I must protect you."
Holy Rome...
"Well, 'ello zere Holy Rome." He whirled around. A tall blond Frenchman was standing over him, sword already at the younger man's throat.
Holy Rome...
He tried to raise his sword, but the slick metal slipped from his weak fingers. He was panting harder than ever and his knees were trembling violently. As he looked up to meet the eyes of the Frenchman his legs finally failed him. Even as his knees hit the blood drenched earth he kept eye contact with the other man. Blue eyes. Blue eyes much like his own. A brother.
Warm caramel brown eyes. You promised you would be back Holy Rome!
"I'm sorry Italy." He dropped his gaze to the muddy earth. If he was still looking at the French solider he would have noticed a distinct change in expression.
But...I'm waiting for you Holy Rome.
"You don't have to, not anymore." He was on all fours. He waited, anticipating the blow from his foe. He had failed. This was the least he deserved.
Holy Rome you promised!
Unwillingly his mind flashed back to the last time he saw that brown eyed girl. Their kiss, his promise to return. "I know we'll see each other again!"
"I've loved you since at least the 10th century.
"When this war's over I'll come back and see you again."
The broom. His tent had been set afire at the beginning of the battle, the broom was inside. The fire took the only token of love he's ever owned. The frenzy of that was probably the only reason he survived the battle this long.
You lost my broom?
"…Italy..."
Oh, Holy Roma...
The blow came fast and unexpected. Holy Rome has fallen before Italy could finish the sentence.
~X~
France saw the small dark clad body sprawled behind him, a large lump swelling up near the soldier's temple. He'll be dead soon, France consoled himself, his empire was slowly being torn apart and he'd suffered massive casualties, not to mention his own physical wounds. France shuttered, how could he even continue to stand with that gash in his torso, let alone fight? Yes, he'll be dead soon.
~X~
"It's alright there, Ludwig, I've got you." The boy hurt all over and he didn't know why. He felt himself being lifted and he managed to crack his eyes open. He was being picked up by a white haired, red eyed man with a kind face and a worried expression. When he noticed the boy was looking at him, awake, immense relief and a smile graced his noble featured face, "Gott sei Dank! It's alright, Ludwig, big brother's got ya." He held him slightly tighter.
"Who?" The last thing he saw before he slipped back into the darkness was the man's face shift into disbelief before regaining a wry smile and an extremely determined countenance.
This would work, Prussia thought as the boy passed out again. He'll have a new life with a new national name. And I will be there to for him this time.