Feliciano's eyes seemed to fall and darken to the long lost sight of the big red book.
The teen's feet were crunching over tatter rags and black and burned wood that once stood as his master's house. The great Holy Roman Empire's leader once lived in those steaming sticks and under the ragged remains of the bedroom. Once, that is.
He couldn't believe that he'd kept that silly book all those years. He was sure that his master tossed it because of the shocked look on his face and how red he'd gotten. Like he would explode in a rage. Little did the small leader know that his master wasn't enraged, but embarrassed.
That his harsh master loved him very much.
Feliciano sat down on the smoldering bed where it wasn't still burning out and let out a deep sigh. How did it get this bad?
"Silly me. Crying in a place like this," he rubbed his eyes with regret. He'd never wanted it to end that way. In smoldering flames and charred memories.
After some time staring into the dirtied book he grew the courage to pull the leather cover back. He nearly dropped it out of the pangs of pain that filled his chest. Pictures of him as a young boy and his master were in those slightly baked pages. "Ngh," he choked, tears spilling over his hazel eyes. "Why did it get so bad? Why?"
Page after page showed him in the green dress that his master had him wear doing various tasks. He never argued wearing the silly outfit or the odd requests that his master had ordered him to do, but now those commands were more precious. They were delicate glass dolls in the baking heat of a heart.
On the eighth page of that charred book was one particular item that caused a gush of tears to spatter down on the pages.
The picture of him when he was accepted into the church in his white uniform with his older brother and his master. They were all about the same age except for the leader of the Holy Roman Empire. He was about three years older than the little leader of Northern Italy.
It wasn't really the picture that caused Feliciano so much pain, but his master's expression. It was sour like he was losing his favorite toy to the enemy. Sour, bitter, and sad was the expression that, somehow, Feliciano never saw. He was that dense as a child that he never understood that he was upset that he would be leaving.
Then, like a wave a water crashing over him, Feliciano recalled a specific memory from his past.
"Italy. Come here," his master had called one day.
"Yes?"
"I'm... leaving for battle tomorrow," he nodded as he faced the setting sun. "I won't be back for a long while."
Feliciano jolted, eyes widening. He knew that being gone more often was hard on his master since he'd been accepted into the church, but to leave him as well? It was just cruel.
"B-but that's..." He began, biting the inside of his cheek to stop him from speaking out of turn. That's the last thing he wanted to be reprimanded for. Having the mind of a one-track girl.
"That's what?" He turned, blue eyes meeting his hazel ones. It was like a punishment to be asked what he was holding in. Some sort of scare tactic that he'd perfect over his years of life.
"That's just... unfair," he breathed out, the leader of the great Holy Roman Empire's eyes narrowing to this comment. Then Feliciano covering his mouth. What was he thinking? Giving him reason to hate him? But it wouldn't stop there. "It's just not f-fair. Ju-just because I left with my brother doesn't me-mean that you can leave me. It's not fair because I did everything you asked and... and... y-you're leaving me," he snivveled, eyes watering and spilling over his rosy cheeks.
Feliciano's master sighed, approaching him silently and looking down on the sobbing boy.
"It's unfair? So it is," he nodded as he pressed his hand to his small servant's cheek.
The little servant boy's eyes widened as his master leaned down and grabbed his cheeks tenderly with both and hands pulled upward until their lips met. Feliciano's eyes ceased the faucet of tears of his face burned hotter than any fire. It was a gentle kiss on the lips that was only for a moment.
After that heated moment Feliciano was let go and his master's face seemed more red than his own. This red-faced leader then whisked around and headed for the door. "I'll be leaving before dawn. Meet me at the gates if that meant anything at all," he nodded, leaving Feliciano in a heated state.
The boy fell to his knees, eyes wide and watering.
Dawn. That seemed so far away from that moment.
Nevertheless, that morning as his master was just giving up hope that he would arrive Feliciano stood in the middle of the cobblestone yard his hands at his sides.
"Master!" He called, face red hot.
The young leader of the Holy Roman Empire halted, eyes wide as he saw Feliciano standing with tears in his eyes back on the massive yard. His heart was racing as he saw his servant take in a deep breath and open his mouth.
"Come back safely, okay? I'll make a bunch of sweets and do anything you want, okay? Promise me, okay?" He screamed.
The morning fog seemed to divide between the two as Feliciano's master nodded.
"I promise! I'll bring the world back to you some day!" He waved his hand high above his head. "I promise you that!"
No matter what ocean I cross, no matter what land I tred, no matter what cuisine I tasted, Feliciano's will always be my love. I won't even waver. I love this boy too much, was the young leader's last sane thought before he mysteriously disappeared.
Feliciano's eyes were spilling over as he hugged the tattered leather book to his chest. That one memory burned the hottest in his chest. The way he spoke that day was like he was going to come home. But they both knew that was a lie.
Just as the young Italian was about to leave in a flustered way a sobbing his ally and lover Ludwig Doitsu stepped over the charred remains of the great home. His head fell as well when he saw the tears spilling over his lover's cheeks. He could understand how painful it was for him considering that he'd never once seen Feliciano shed a single tear in all the years they'd been fighting in the never-ending wars.
"D-Doitsu," Feliciano looked up at the blonde man. "Ngh... uwaaaa," he fell into his chest, eyes releasing all the pent up sadness from his childhood into the broad chest of his lover.
The German soildier sighed, picking up the book and setting it in Feliciano's arms as he carried him like a young bride. The smoldering memories were just smears and gashes on his usual happy demeanor and so he chose to leave. Anything to make him smile again. Anything.
"Wh-why... why did he... l-lie," Feliciano asked, eyes staring deep into his chest as Ludwig kept his head up.
"Sometimes people lie to protect zhe v'ones zhey love und sometimes zhey have to lie to do zhat," he nodded as he squeezed the boy a little tighter in his arms.
"Promise me..."
"Mm?"
"Pro-promise me that you'll never lie to me," he sniffled, wrapping his arms around Ludwig's back and tugging on his jacket as tight as he could.
All was silent sans Ludwig's boots crunching against the seared wood scraps beneath his feet as he moved away from the once beautiful home. He couldn't deny that he wanted to say the truth, but it was the irony of the situation that would get a hold of him.
"I promise," he lied, swallowing his pride as he walked on into the dawn.
If only he could stop lying. If only he could tell him the truth. If only...
he could say that the great Holy Roman Empire had never disappeared.