(Author's Note: So I actually started writing this one before any of my other hetalia fanfics but gave up on it for about a year. However...I found it not too long ago and decided to give it another try so I shall. My goal is to eventually get all of my hetalia stories that are on my computer up here so that readers can see just how many I am working on at a time and hopefully have a variety of different genres.
Anyways that was my rant now...enjoy! Edit: I'm going to try and pick this one up again so I went through and edited what I had so far. I now give you the edited prologue.)
Prologue: Forgotten Promise
Cold and lifeless. That's what the Italian's hand felt like in his. How long had they been lying like this? Since he had succumbed to the weariness and blood loss from the wounds Belarus had inflicted upon him. The war had not been going well lately at all. Already France, Spain, and England had been put out of commission, China and America had been captured along with some of the lesser nations like Lithuania, Latvia, Estonia, Poland, and Finland, and no one had heard from his Bruder in months. Who could have known that Russia was that strong? Strong enough to take on the entire world with only the help from his sisters. Strong enough to make such high demands and actually fight to see them through. He himself had failed at that in the last world war, but it seemed like Russia was well on his way to victory. Become one with Russia? Never!
...That's what Italy had said to the stronger nation's face, only in a stammered and quiet voice, but...
He gritted his teeth and looked over at the smaller nation lying beside him. Italy had made no movement since Germany had carried him to the cave and lay him down on his coat. With no bandages available, he had used his shirt to try and wrap the worst of the wounds that accursed pipe had inflicted. Gashes and immense bruises littered the nation's body, the worst of which was directly on the side of the skull where the final blow had landed before Italy was knocked unconscious, and half dead, to the floor. The only sign that the nation was still alive now, was the slight rise and fall of his chest and the occasional pained hiss of breath that escaped his lips.
Germany rubbed his thumb over the chilled flesh of Italy's hand for probably the fiftieth time, trying to get some form of reaction from his friend.
Friend? That was the understatement of the century and he could no longer deny that. A friend was someone you had a close relationship with yes, but you did not get overly close, did not have a desire to. That was how he felt around Japan. They had a mutual understanding that they were indeed friends, as they had spent a good deal of time together through the years. But...
It was different with Italy. The small, nearly helpless and hopeless, often times aggravating, refused to sleep alone...wearing not much, picky eater, loud, far too cheerful, cried too easily, always taking things one step too far...
Germany stopped his train of thought. Really it shouldn't be that easy to list off the young man's less desirable qualities. Still, Germany gave a slight smile and ran his thumb over the boy's hand again, it's easy to contradict those qualities too.
His helplessness meant that he often relied on those around him, which gave the German man a feeling of being needed, a strange comfort to cling to when he wondered if anyone would really care if he was simply to disappear. The fact that Italy needed him, meant that likewise the emotional Italian would certainly notice if he disappeared.
Aggravating? To the point that Germany snapped at him and caused the smaller nation to recoil and hide. But often times, having a temporary shock from his normal stoic attitude, is exactly what the German nation needed at the time. After he broke his cool on Italy, he felt less tense, more relaxed and likewise more open. Of course he would never admit this fact to anyone.
Italy constantly crawled into his bed wearing only boxers or a loose night shirt...if that...and proceeded to cling to him in his sleep and vee~ lightly. The first several times he had done this, Germany had found it difficult...in fact on occasion...nearly impossible...to sleep. Gradually though...so gradually in fact that he had at first been unaware of it...Germany had begun to notice that the soft breathing beside him helped to prevent his mind from wandering onto troubling subjects. Likewise, the extra warmth had become more of a comfort and he felt strangely chilled on those rare occasions when Italy was confined to his own house by his older brother Romano. He had even gotten used to the smaller nation clinging to him on particularly cold nights, or when he suffered from a particularly distressing dream. Germany was forced to admit that the only thing he still had a bit of an issue with was the boy's attire at night and the fact that they were both men that were not related.
The nation was a picky eater...constantly making a face when offered wurst or other foods that Germany and Japan found very appetizing. But...you couldn't deny the fact that what the Italian did eat and constantly make, was rather delicious, and he was quite skilled at making it. There was just something about the pasta that the young man made which could perk up even the most depressed and lethargic group.
Loud. Oh yeah. Well at least he could easily get anyone's attention.
Far too cheerful? Actually it was his overly cheery disposition that could make the German nation smile and...on rare occasion...laugh. The enthusiastic boy could brighten up a room simply by smiling.
Cried too easily? Especially when he was being yelled at. But actually, the fact that he showed even this most embarrassing of emotions outright, just furthered his sweet innocent openness. Italy was not afraid to show his emotions to anyone and...well Germany admired him a bit for that quality.
And it was the final issue, of pushing the envelope too far, that made Germany experience several different emotions. Pure irritation, shock, embarrassment, frustration, and...hope. Because the way in which Italy pushed the envelope...had to do with their relationship. Constantly it seemed like he was giving away signs and signals that he wanted to be more. Those posters a long time back were a perfect example. Back then Germany had of course been out-rightly furious with the smaller nation for putting something like that up where anyone could see it and get the wrong idea...but...now he looked over that incident...that action of his friend...as a possibility that...maybe...just maybe...the boy harbored feelings for him, beyond those of friendship.
Like he did...
It had taken him a very long time to recognize and come to terms with his feelings. And while it still confused and disoriented him he couldn't deny it anymore...
He loved Italy. With everything he had to give.
That was the reason he couldn't stay mad at the young man for long. That was the reason why he wanted to protect him and be needed. That was the reason why he comforted the small nation whenever required. That was the reason he no longer minded the boy sleeping in his bed and clinging to him. That was the reason why he found himself longing for his warmth on those rare occasions. The reason he sometimes gave in and wrapped his arms around the nation when he suffered from night terrors.
And that was the reason why he couldn't force back the tears that came to his eyes now as he wondered if his beloved Italy lying beside him...was going to die.
He struggled against the heaviness weighing down his body as unconsciousness threatened to overtake him, and moved himself closer to the boy, reaching out a trembling hand to stroke his frozen cheek. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to gasp in anguish as the boy let out a light moan and a hiss as he shivered in pain and curled further in on himself. Germany couldn't bear it any longer. He gathered the boy into his arms and lay his mouth against his ear.
"Please Italia...don't die."
His voice choked and he took a shaking breath through the tears pouring down his face.
"Italia I love you. Ich liebe dich. You can't die...please."
It was as his eyes were slipping closed that the voice came.
It's time Ludwig. Remember your promises.
~Promise~
Two boys lay side by side. Both blond, both blue eyed, though only one pair was open at the moment. Michael Beilschmidt looked through the blood that seeped from the slash on his forehead at Ludwig. He was certain that the boy had become a child again simply because he came to this world. Though why, he couldn't figure out and, as his time was slipping away, he didn't much care anymore. He knew now that once again he would have to entrust his precious Feli to his clone. But this time, he would make him earn his...er...her love...(how could he have forgotten that Feli was a girl in this world!)...unless time called for memories to be returned. He lay a shaking and bloody hand on the boy's forehead and whispered another promise.
"Ludwig Beilschmidt. I once more entrust Feli Vargas to your care. And though I now remove all your previous memories, I hope that your desire to care for and protect her, will remain as it always has. I now leave you with this promise, that I shall return your memories when the time is right and the need is great. Until then, you will not remember your previous relationships, your other promises, nor your true name. As of this moment, you are my replacement in this world. The nation...of Germany."
His final act complete, Michael Beilschmidt, known most recently as the Holy Roman Empire, closed his eyes yet again. The wind carrying away the dust left by his body as a red eyed Prussian arrived on the scene.
