"Ve… so tired…"

Feliciano Vargas trudged into his bedroom. It had been a long, hard day of military training, and his delicate frame wasn't accustomed to all the exercise Ludwig put him through. He just wasn't as strong as his German ally, and it depressed him sometimes. He had inherited many traits from Grandpa Rome, like his aesthetic sense and his charm. But only if I had his strength, the tired Italian thought, I wouldn't be so tired all the time.

The smooth aftertaste of an Italian dinner filled his dry, empty mouth. For a few moments, the brunette stared emptily at the ceiling, eyelids drooping over his golden irises. Please, God, please let me have a peaceful, dreamless night of sleep.

Wrapped in the warm comfort of his bed sheets, Feliciano could feel himself drifting off. The heat was seeping into his warm body, a powerful lullaby of no melody, carrying him
away as he fell into a deep slumber.

"Italy…."

Feliciano felt a soft, warm light caress him awake. Squinting at the sudden change in light, he forced his eyes open. Taking in his surroundings, he concluded he was in a field.

He was in a field of long grass bending in the wind, dotted with yellow and white flowers. It dawned upon him that these were the same flowers he used to pick as a child. A breeze blew through, and Feliciano could feel the flutter of a skirt. Looking down, he recognized the green dress and white apron he used to wear. As a child.

"What… what is going on? Where am I?" Feliciano wondered out loud, looking about the vastness. It was utterly quiet, except for the rustle of the grass swaying in the wind… and a single name. A single name, being whispered over and over. It was as gentle as the warm wind, but loud in the silence.

"Italy…"

Curious, Feliciano turned to the source of this soft, angelic voice. Standing in the glorious rays of the sun was a man. He was tall, blond and muscular. He was cloaked in black. A large dark cap sat upon his neatly combed hair. The figure was looking straight at Feliciano, an affectionate smile on his face.

"It's me, Italy…"

Feliciano's eyes grew wide as he recognized the owner of the voice.

"H..H… Holy Rome?"

Feliciano ran faster than he ever did before, right into Holy Rome. Holy Rome wrapped his arms around Feliciano, lovingly holding him as the Italian shaked and sobbed into his cloak, his memories flowing out as uncontrollable tears.

"Shh… don't cry, my Feliciano…" Holy Rome whispered into his lover's rich, brown hair. "Don't cry, please… you look so beautiful when you smile."

"I… I miss you so much…. You said you'd come back…. You promised…" Feliciano whimpered,
tears still running down his cheeks. "Why did you have to go?"

The former empire kissed Feliciano's forehead. "I had to fight; I had to defend my home. I was fighting for you, my Feli, and I had every intention of returning to you so we could spend the rest of our time together." He stroked his tear-stained cheek. "But all the fighting, it made me weak. I'm sorry… I'm sorry I couldn't defend you longer…"

"No." The brunette looked up with glistening eyes. "It's not your fault. But… but I just wanted to be with you again… I waited for you, and I went to bed every night, praying you were safe. I waited for so long… and I never knew you… you…" He buried his head into Holy Rome, unable to force out the unbearable words, the words he refused to accept.

Holy Rome hugged Feliciano tightly.

"Let me tell you something," he said quietly. "I am not really dead."

The Italian looked up hopefully at Holy Rome. "Really?"

"Of course, my dear. I'll always be with you, no matter what. Maybe not as Holy Rome, but I'm still here with you today." Holy Rome pulled Feliciano in, and the two shared a tender kiss. After they pulled away, Feliciano grinned.

"That makes me happy… very happy." he whispered.

"I'm glad you are."

They gazed at each other for a moment, then Holy Rome finally let go of his childhood crush. He turned and began to walk away.

"Wait, don't leave yet!" Feliciano grabbed the black cloak before he could walk any further. "Don't leave me again… who are you now?"

The empire turned to Feliciano one last time, his bright blue eyes shining with mist. "You will find out soon enough…" he started to walk away. This time, he wasn't
stopped.

"…Italia."

The black cloak fluttered in the wind, growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

"Italia…"

Feliciano gazed nostalgically at his first love, long after he was gone.

"ITALIA!"

A loud, angry voice brought Feliciano back to reality. He was no longer in a field, but in his bed. His dress was gone, and in its place was a tank top and shorts. And the Italian was feeling dizzier and more feverish than he had yesterday.

"Wake up, Italy! What are you doing? It is 8:30; you're going to be late for training today!" Ludwig yelled at the doorway. He was already dressed, and growing more impatient.

Feliciano only remained in bed, too tired to move a muscle. "B…but Ludwig… I don't feel so good…" His face was flushed.

Ludwig sighed, and walked over to him. Upon placing his hand on his forehead, the German realized that the Italian's temperature was abnormally high.

"Hmm… You seem to have come down with a cold," Ludwig muttered, half to himself. "Maybe you should just rest for today, Feliciano. I will be back with some hot water." Ludwig began to leave the room.

He was stopped by a soft hand that gripped his, tightly.

"Don't… please. Please keep me company. Stay by me." Feliciano whispered sleepily.
Stay by me… Holy Roman Empire.

Ludwig blushed slightly, but a soft "Okay," escaped his lips, and he remained by his ally, who smiled contently and drifted off to sleep.

~Fine~