A Deal Worth a 1,000 Years: By Paperz Mate
"…Draw a circle, that's the earth!" Chubby, little hands scribbled on a piece of paper, creating various lines with multiple colors. It was the year 1806, a time of hard ship in master Austria's house. Along with living with his young wife, Hungary, a couple of maids, a few butlers and plenty of servants; and among those servants was the infamous, pasta loving, cheerful, naïve, and artistic, funny little boy (or girl according to some people) we all knew as Italy. He's one of the great roman descendants, being the grandson of a deceased Empire that ruled almost all of the Mediterranean land.
Italy was currently sitting on a small hill top, overlooking the small town that he stayed with his Master, and drawing away with many of his favorite crayons. Lately he has been coming up on top of this very hill, resting his back against the bark of the shady tree, after he was done doing his daily chores Austria orders him to do, and sketched away. He wouldn't let anyone know, but he was feeling quite lonely these past few days. His best friend, or roommate some would say, has been gone for quite a while. Periodically, Holy Roman Empire would travel back home to meet Italy again before going off to battle a couple days later, but he hasn't made face in weeks. The last time HRE (Holy Roman Empire) came, the young boy adorned various cuts and abrasions, and one so deep that it made Italy sick to see him that way, but despite all that, HRE continued to laugh and smile with him. His strength reminded Italy so much of his late grandfather…that it hurt.
Italy glanced back up at the sunny, clear blue skies, watching a couple of birds fly above the clouds going west. The sunflower patch bloomed largely, as he could see in the distance. When HRE was here, he would take a trip with him to the Nursery and just bask in the sunflowers, often ending up playing a small game of hide and go-seek with the little Empire. But Italy sighed; those days didn't seem to exist anymore. Now all everyone seemed to have time for was war and Italy hated fighting…
England watched the battle rage onward from his magical glass bulb. This didn't look too good, as his older brother France wasn't faring to well in the battle against HRE. He watched him struggle as he tried to avoid getting his torso slit in half. Instead of puncturing a wound, HRE sent France flying into a boulder that was dangerously close the edge of the cliff. "That little boy is just too strong. Any longer, and that Frog wouldn't last… I have to stop this!"
"And just how are you going to manage that? The fight has nothing to do with you and I suggest you stay put!" His King ordered. England shook his head, "No, It does have something to do with me, and the whole world actually. If I don't stop HRE in his tracks, the whole world will be in ciaos! I, Prussia, Spain, Austria, Hungary, the new world, everything will be gone if this boy wins! My lord, do you understand?" England pleaded; his emerald green eyes glazed with grief and worry, a look that King George III hadn't witnessed in this spunky country.
"Are you certain of this?" He asked suspiciously. He, himself, was starting to worry about his place in the world. Was that git really something to be feared? England nodded, "If HRE wins that battle, the Roman era would begin a new, then it will be the end of the world, our new world." The thought of the George III's Kingdom crashing down before his very eyes disturbed him greatly. If that little boy is as bad as England says, then imagine when he's older.
"I can't imagine what would drive this young boy wild to release his tensions out on unnecessary war, but if he is truly evil, England, I therefore grant you permission to go over there and put an end to this." The king waved his stick out in front of the teenaged nation, intrusting him that he has all rights to go. Without a moment's hesitation, the Englishman bowed his respects to the royal blood and vanished into thin air.
France stumbled over, gasping for air as his side has been slit open by the little nation. Holy Roman Empire landed gracefully on the broken concrete and pulled his silver sword back into his pouch. By looking at his state, he guessed he wouldn't need it. Instead he casually sat down on the piece of slavered stone and mocked him, spitting obnoxious raspberries at the teenage Frenchman. France rolled his eyes, "You know if you weren't so cute, I would've killed you by now. "He growled. The little boy smirked, "Oh yea, then what are you waiting for, frog face?"
France took a moment to stand up, taking his time so he won't bleed so much and tear his skin, oops too late…
"Holy Fuck!" he panted, clutching his side. HRE seemed to take pleasure in his pain and didn't bother to cover up his laugh. France on the other hand, felt delighted, "You demon…What did you try to do, cut out my kidney's?"
The Holy Roman Empire shrugged, "I don't know, but it didn't take a lot of effort. You sure are a pathetic country though. Tell me, is it the girls that soften you up, or it is the boys?"
France glared back at the vindictive child, "Oh, Why don't you come over here and find out?" A murderous looked was casted over his features that it sent slight chills down the little empire. "STOP!" a voice interjected. Before either could make a move, a cloud of smoke appeared, dusting the battle field with glittery tiny particles, almost like…pixie dust?
The two nations near the cliff side glanced upwards to see a small, about the size of a large carrot, man with minty green fairy wings and dressed in simple clothing made of leaves and random weeds. The little guy had twigs stuck in his hair and he adorned a thick pair of brown caterpillars…eyebrows, which nearly took over his entire forehead. He scowled at both of them below, mainly at HRE, glaring at them with his emerald green eyes.
"What is that?" they chorused in unison. The Mythical flying creature lowered himself from mid air to ground level, landing on a dried up and damaged olive branch.
"I'm your adviser, call me Iggy. "he replied. France, despite the unbearable pain on his side, couldn't pass up the moment to realize something… "Angleterre?"
HRE quirked his brow, "Now that you mention it, you do look familiar?" The little Empire squinted, his little nose scrunched up.
The fairy rolled his emerald green eyes, "Never mind that, but listen up you poor saps!" He scolded. "Under the Order of King George III, you are to surrender your army, Holy Rome." The young nation looked astonished, " Why shoud I?" he retorted, drawing his sword to slash at the fairy. Iggy easily evaded the attack, and landed on the body of the sword, staring right back at him.
"If you really value this world I suggest you stop where you are. You're about to create a big mistake Holy Rome, and I will not allow a child to mess the whole planet up, with your selfish ways." The fairies words stabbed Holy Rome's being, cutting deeper into his heart. He felt like he couldn't take it anymore.
"EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" he huffed. He will not be treated like this, by a stupid fairy of all things!
Iggy, "I can say the same to you. Tell me young Lord, what ails you so to go out and fight to the death?"
"It's…This is embarrassing." He muttered. The Fairy face-palmed himself, "Oh c'mon!" he pressed, urging for the Empire to cough up whatever he has to say in his defense.
The boy blushed a fuchsia pink, suddenly feeling light headed at the thought of his sweet little maiden waiting at home, for him to return. "It's because I am in Love." He declared softly. Both Iggy and France stood back, stunned. France whistled, "Is that so? Little Holy Rome got himself into L'amor? Ohohohohn~ this is invigorating!" he snickered. The Fairy was in the least a bit baffled. "Oh really?"
The Boy nodded, "Yes, Ever since the 900's, I've loved this person, and I'll do almost anything to protect her!"
Iggy was understanding, going along with his reasoning. "So you mean to tell me that you'll do anything to protect her?"
"Yes, I'll even sacrifice myself for her is that's what It takes. I just want her to be happy and not live under the Austrian bastard!" he declared once more. France remained silent, knowing full well who he was referring to. Iggy smirked, "Well, this proposition won't go as bad as I thought."
"What do you mean?"
It was becoming late in the day and Italy needed to arrive home before dusk. Picking up his things, the little nation skipped all the way back to the house in the country side, passing through the towns shopping district to pick up a few apples before going home. After paying a single copper coin for a basket full of apples, Italy began his small trek home, and that's when he noticed something slightly off with the towns people. They all seemed more relaxed than usual…and happier?
"Hello Mr. Knut!" He greeted his favorite candy shop owner. The old man smiled down warmly at him, "Good evening to you too, Feli, how are you?" The Italian brought his little fingers up, connecting his thumb and forefinger together, forming an 'O' for ok. "Buono!" he grinned. The old man chuckled, "Ah, so you are in high spirits too? Hmm, I guess the war being over is really having effect on people these days."
What? The war was over? Since when did this happen? "Huh?" The old man scrutinized the young lad, "Oh, I haven't you heard? The townsmen were boasting about it all afternoon. Then the soldiers just marched back home." Little Italy was utterly confused…yet delighted to hear.
"Well, that's just fantastic! I better get home now, my friend must be coming back and I said I'd wait for his return! Good bye!" and with that in mind, the little Italian ran off into the distance with a cloud of dust covering up his path. Mr. Knut sat back and watched the youngster take off like forest Gump. But there was one important detail that the old man had neglected to tell the child…not that it should matter, he thought.
Italy raced up the cobble stone steps and basically broke in through the back door and stumbled into the kitchen. He hastily sat the apples down on the kitchen floor and ran out into the living room area, where his master would usually play his authentic, ivory keys and make the maids swoon. But as he entered the living room, Italy did not hear the harmonic chords of the piano, nor did he see the presence of his master and his wife.
Instead he heard dead silence, much quieter than it usually is on a daily basis. "Hello? Anyone home?" he called. He looked down both hallways, no one answered. But he heard murmuring at one end of the hall. He cautiously took silent steps towards the left, the heels of his shoes clacking against the tile. As he gotten closer to the door that was left slightly ajar, he peeped in and saw Austria and Hungary hugging each other. It wasn't like those warm hugs they would give each other when you want to show affection of love, but one of those hug where one person leaned on the other's to cry on, and Italy never seen Hungary so sad, not even Austria. But there was one thing on his mind…if the old man had said that the soldiers had marched home…where was Holy Rome?
The thought of his best friend never returning to him made Italy want to break down and cry, right there, on the floor, like a little toddler who gotten their candy stolen from them by a mean ol' bully. Before he could silently leave the two alone to look for his friend, The Hungarian nation had already spotted Italy peeping at them from the corner of her eye. "Italy?" she sniffed, her eyes glazed and rimmed with red. The Austrian looked up and turned to see his little curl poking out from between the cracks of the doorway. He didn't want to give up his hiding place yet!
"Italy, come out from there." He ordered, but his voice was a little choked. Italy shyly pushed his way inside the room, with his hands folded in front of him, fingering the fabric of his stained up apron. He didn't want to budge any further, as he didn't like this cold atmosphere.
The Hungarian girl stooped down to pick him up and gently rocks him in her arms to try and calm him down. Austria sits there on the bed, not bothering to look up at them.
"Hungary?"
"Yes Sweet heart?"
"Why are you so sad?"
That one, simple question just made the strongest woman Italy knew, break down into a racking sob, as he felt her fat tear drops rain on his little head nuzzled on the of her neck. He looked up at his sister-figure, trying to pat the wetness on her cheeks dry. Italy failed miserably, only making her cry more. He started getting scared, "Why are you acting like this? Austria?" He asked, trying to get his master to speak up. The Austrian seemed colder than ever as he only glared back at them. Italy didn't like this feeling. What made his family become this way? The Hungarian girl cuddled Italy with her until she stopped her crying frenzy long enough to answer his question directly.
"Hungary?" he asked, once again, wearily. This time she nodded, wiping her eyes dry and cleaning her nose of the discharge with a hanky. "Yes Italy?"
Italy then chose his words more carefully, "Where…where is he?"
"Where is who?"
"Uh…Holy Rome?"
The sound of his name leaving his mouth never felt so bitter.
Hungary swallowed the large lump in her throat before answering,
"He's…Holy Rome…disappeared…"
That day, On Tuesay of October 3rd, 1806, The Holy Roman Empire was Formally dissolved from the face of the earth, never to see young Italy again...But it also marked a beginning for a new Era, as a little boy in place of the Holy Roman Empire was born.
"What should we name him?" The prussian held the little nation, wrapped in a white sheet of his cape. The albino held the little guy close to his chest, admiring those clear blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through his soul.
"He looks like he's going to be a rather strong one." One of his soldiers remarked. Prussia smiled softly, indeed.
"Little one, you will be known as Germany...my awesome little brother."