AN: i was just thinking about how, with all that's happened in history, it would be rare for a hetalia pairing to be truly healthy and pure. like even something as sweet as sufin has some bad history. so i wonder... among other things... what it would be like to know that any romantic partner you could have, would mean, at some point, acknowledging the hurt and wrong done between the two of you...

so i wrote some heavy stuff.


trigger warning: graphic violence, mentions of general wartime unpleasantness


It was the same scene again.

No, no, no.

He wanted to wash the memories away. But what he was seeing was so real.

"Please,"

He tried to shake it all off. He tried to pinch himself. He couldn't move.

"Please, just…"

This was happening. No, this couldn't happen.

"If you're going to shoot me,"

There was a pistol in his hand. Aimed. Ready.

His hands shook.

"Then shoot me."

It would be better if he did shoot, he realized. It would be better. God, he was forgetting why. He couldn't even bring himself to the thought of pulling the trigger.

Do it. He urged himself.

Don't do it. He fought back tears.

He couldn't show weakness. No matter how much he wanted to crumple in on himself. Right then and there. All he was dealing with…

"Traitor." The words felt icy and wrong on his tongue. But if he ever wasn't filled with rage.

Rage. Confusion. Hurt. Betrayal.

The traitor looked up at him. Vulnerable. Not even putting up a fight. Pathetic.

No. Not pathetic. Not him. Not ever him.

He lowered the gun.

He was met with a moment of surprise, of, dare he say it, hope, flashing through their eyes.

"Hey, it's another one of them!" There was a shout, and it was followed by others.

"Good job catching this one, sir!" Someone was patting his back.

"Hold up. This isn't just… ha! Men! Look! It's the country himself!"

No. He wanted to say. Don't. Don't touch him.

He still couldn't move. The gun was still frozen in his hand.

And right before him, Veneziano was being dragged up off the ground by his hair, men in German uniforms gathering around him. Spitting at him. Yelling and cursing.

"It's the traitor." One of the German soldiers snarled.

He didn't know who hit Veneziano first. But there were two men holding Veneziano up with his hands behind his back, and the men were taking turns throwing punches.

The gun. He could… he could call this off. He could end this. Get it over with.

"Hey, did you all know… I heard… these freaks can't die. Not really. What do you say…" The man pulled out his own pistol.

He felt sick to his stomach. No. No, this was not how it was supposed to happen. Was it ever supposed to happen?

"What do you say… we shoot him with as many bullets as the men we lost to the cursed Yankees?"

The man was met with a round of cheers.

Veneziano looked terrified.

It wasn't just how he looked when he knew he lost a battle. This time, he couldn't just surrender. He couldn't run away.

He couldn't run to Germany for help anymore.

Because Germany was doing nothing.

He just stood there.

And watched.

"I'll go first!" Another man stepped forward. "This is for my cousin, you fucking traitor."

This man didn't hesitate. His hands didn't shake. And he knew what he was doing.

The first shot was aimed at Veneziano's leg.

They were all angry. They all felt betrayed. They wanted to make Veneziano suffer.

Someone rushed forward and hit Veneziano's leg. Veneziano fell to the pain, but he was forced back up.

In that moment, Veneziano caught Germany's eye, squinting at him through black eyes.

He pleaded silently. For what, Germany didn't know.

Save him? Shoot him? End it all?

The tears he had been forcing back were threatening to spill over.

And Veneziano was scared.

No.

He wasn't scared for himself that time.

And it was that look of concern, through all the pain, that struck him. Nearly broke him.

Some other man raised his gun.

Germany looked away.

He still heard the shot.


Ludwig awoke with a start, cold sweat prickling his forehead and chest. His heart beat wildly, greeted by overwhelming and unfamiliar silence.

The beginnings of nausea bubbled up deep in his stomach. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes flew over the place he was in.

It took him a moment to process his surroundings, and to realize he was in bed. It wasn't 1944, and there wasn't a war going on outside. He swore he could still hear the echoes of the last shot, but… The room was blanketed in the quiet darkness of night, and the moonlight just filtered in enough for Ludwig to see.

It was about four in the morning.

Feliciano was sleeping beside him, his back to him.

Ludwig's face was wet, and he quickly wiped the tears away. The nausea abated, but his heart still pounded. Internally, he fretted over the sound of it waking up Feliciano.

Feliciano turned over in his sleep. Then scrunched his face slightly. And stirred before opening his eyes a bit. He clearly couldn't see much of Ludwig's expression, but just that his bed mate wasn't sleeping.

"Ludwig?" He asked sleepily, reaching out for him. "What are you doing awake?"

Ludwig hesitated before letting Feliciano curl into his chest. He was certain that he was still sweating and his heart still wouldn't behave. He felt too on edge. In that moment, the arms that usually offered strength and protection felt like weapons. He felt too big. Too dangerous. Too untrustworthy.

Something he couldn't let Feliciano know because Feliciano always held him and kissed him, never understood, because Feliciano was too trusting.

He willed his entire being to calm down because he was not going to disturb Feliciano's rest like that.

"Thinking," he lied.

"Mm, about what?"

He paused. "Work."

Feliciano rubbed Ludwig's back, and Ludwig tried not relax into the touch. Tried to remind himself how much he did not deserve it.

"You should take more breaks."

"You've been making me take too many breaks."

Feliciano looked up at him and smiled mischievously. He kissed Ludwig softly on the lips. "You shouldn't be thinking about work in bed. You should be thinking about other things."

"Like what?" Ludwig answered in a strained voice. His chest had lightened enough that he could breathe somewhat evenly, but his heartbeat jumped again.

Feliciano's hands had gone lower.

"Like… me." Feliciano rolled himself so that he was over Ludwig. He kissed Ludwig again. Part of Ludwig wanted to make up an excuse, so that he didn't have to pretend that everything was okay. Part of him wanted to hold tight and let Feliciano do as he wanted. Another part of him anticipated Feliciano coming to his senses and running away. But no part of him wanted that, even though that's what he deserved.

"What about sleep?" He supplied uncertainly. Because Feliciano's warmth was too tempting. When Feliciano kissed him again, he kissed back.

"You woke me up."

It felt good like this. It felt too good.

Ludwig enjoyed a little too much the soft sighs he could bring out of Feliciano by running his hands down his lover in just the right way. He enjoyed more than he should the way Feliciano held him as if he was everything Feliciano ever wanted.

But he wasn't. He wasn't. He had done such horrible things and he didn't understand…

"Why?"

Feliciano paused, looked at Ludwig, and then went wide eyed.

Ludwig hated it but he was crying. Right in front of Feliciano. He couldn't stay strong. He couldn't keep his fears to himself.

Suddenly Feliciano's hands were fluttering about his face, wiping the tears away, gently caressing him.

"I'm sorry, oh, I'm sorry. I didn't ask, and if you're not okay, we can just sleep. It's alright."

"No, no, I…" He couldn't bring himself to say 'I want you,' and instead choked out. "Why would you… want to be with me?"

And just to be expected, Feliciano's immediate response wasn't to suddenly realize how dangerous it was to hold Ludwig so close. It wasn't to come to his senses. No. Feliciano's first response was to coo and compliment and hold him even closer.

"Everyone's made mistakes," he was saying. "But you're good. You're so good. I know you would never want to hurt someone."

Ludwig choked back another broken sob.

"But I've hurt you. My people and I. Hurt you."

"But your people have learned. And there is so much good." Feliciano held Ludwig's face. "Ludwig, look at me. Look. I love you. I love your people. You and your people. Are so good. So much better. You would never let anything like that happen again. I trust you. I want you."

"I… I want you too. So much."

Feliciano smiled. "Then let me love you."

Ludwig stared. Unsure. He did want Feliciano. So much that it hurt sometimes. So much that when the sky was dark, he didn't even realize the sun wasn't out, because Feliciano was his sun. His perfect, loving, trusting Feliciano.

But he didn't know how it came to be this way. For decades he thought there was no way Feliciano would ever want to be near him again, to touch him. And yet here he was. Holding onto to him like they were the last people on earth.

He knew how Feliciano would react if he said no. Feliciano would be disappointed, worried, for certain. He might even complain a bit. But he would lay back down and whisper sweet words and sing gentle songs until Ludwig went back to sleep.

Such affection Ludwig wasn't sure he could accept.

"Not…" he paused. "Not all the way. Please."

Feliciano nodded, as attentive as ever. "How far?"

"I don't know."

People didn't give Feliciano enough credit. Ludwig didn't before. Barely anyone looked past the ready smile and habitual laziness. But Feliciano cared so much, and he saw so much. He tried. And when he was good at something, he really tried. And damn was he good at making love.

"Tell me when to stop, then."

If he wanted to, Feliciano could get Ludwig excited, face burning red, with just a wink and a flick of his tongue. But this wasn't the time, and Feliciano gently caressed Ludwig's face and placed light, reassuring kisses along his nose, lips, cheeks, neck. He ran his fingers through Ludwig's hair, free of the gel and easy to do so, until Ludwig could feel his heart begin to fall back into a comfortable pace.

Feliciano guided them into a soft, slow, easy kiss. They pressed their lips together gently, not rushing to taste each other, but just to feel. It was the type of kiss that had Ludwig unconsciously wrapping his arms tighter around Feliciano. When Feliciano licked tentatively at Ludwig's lip, they deepened the kiss, but the lazy pace and Feliciano's hands still stroking through Ludwig's hair, Ludwig felt himself settle into the blankets and his lover's touch. The dark, self-loathing thoughts still swam through his head and buried their way into his chest, but being with Feliciano like this made him almost believe that everything was okay.

They didn't break the kiss until Ludwig could feel Feliciano's warmth determinedly chase away the cold dread that clung to his heart.

"Now… why were you really awake?" Feliciano breathed.

"I…" Ludwig tensed, expecting the fears to come rushing back, but Feliciano pressed their bodies closer together and it helped. Just a little. "I… dreamt about it. That day when I… you… when I did nothing…"

He could hear a soft intake of breath as Feliciano understood what Ludwig was referring to.

Ludwig was just waiting for Feliciano to remember the event clearly enough to never want to ever be near Ludwig again. But Feliciano would never run away like that, even though he should. Or worse. For Feliciano to wear a fake smile as he found every excuse to put distance between them.

Because Ludwig still remembered hearing Veneziano's broken cries for help. Ludwig remembered wanting to help, desperately needing to help, but his men cheering and pulling his paralyzed form away.

He still remembered the silence. Not from his men. There were still firecracker shots and shouts. No. The silence from Veneziano. And how he, and he would feel sick at the memory every single time, turned for just a moment to look back.

In the present, Feliciano was whole. His skin had color and there were no scars or evidence of what happened. But sometimes he could see it in Feliciano's eyes. He could see it in those moments that Feliciano was reminded of the war, when there was a sudden crack of thunder or a car door slamming, too close for comfort. There was no way anyone could ever walk away from something like that and not hold something dark in their heart.

So Ludwig waited on baited breath for what Feliciano would say next.

"I remember." Feliciano only replied quietly.

"So… why?" Ludwig asked again.

The responding silence was almost all too much when Feliciano whispered, in a voice so inaudible that Ludwig barely caught what he said, "I asked myself the same question. About you. Why you never left me."

Ludwig's eyes widened. He grabbed Feliciano's face to hold them eye to eye. "You… what? How could you ever think that, I… I don't deserve any of your loyalty. I betrayed you."

"I betrayed you first."

"You did the right thing. God, I couldn't see it at the time because I was so blinded. I should have never treated you like that."

"I'll never forget your face."

Ludwig shook his head. It felt like a knife had pierced him, but he tried to convince himself that this was good. Feliciano was finally understanding. He had to understand.

"Yes, I was out of line. I should have stopped them. You did nothing wrong and I–"

"No. Your face when they… before, you were so mad, and hurt, and I knew it, and I thought you were perfectly justified to shoot me. I was only a burden to you and then I left… but then… in that moment, you were crying for me."

Ludwig had been crying? He couldn't remember that. He only remembered every line on Veneziano's horrified, bloody, tear stricken expression.

Feliciano kept talking. "I remember wondering for so long after that… why you still cared about me. And to this day I have never, ever held what happened against you. Not the occupation, not the massacres, none of that."

Ludwig swallowed and held Feliciano tighter. "How do you… ever doubt yourself? How can you doubt how much… how much I need you?"

"Oh, Ludwig," Feliciano sighed and buried his head in Ludwig's shoulder. "We all did things that we regret. We all got angry at each other. There are so many sins that the world forgot… forgave… why must you torment yourself? You know the world only likes to remind you of what you did just because you were on the losing side."

And in that moment, the dark thoughts still screaming in protest, Ludwig understood what Feliciano meant. His acts of greed and bigotry were not the first, and were not the last. There were so many others slaughtered in other political campaigns, in other wars. So many casualties were swept away and forgotten. So many continued to deny and distort history.

So many others never took responsibility. Never thought to build cold stone structures as permanent reminders of their shameful past. Never endeavored to recreate their home as a refuge for those escaping violence.

So why did Ludwig carry this as if he was the only guilty one?

"Oh." Was all that he could manage.

He felt a damp smile against his shoulder. Suddenly realizing that Feliciano was crying, he picked his lover's head up and brushed away the tears. Feliciano laughed breathlessly and did the same, Ludwig only belatedly noticing his own tears.

They kissed again, Ludwig whispering soft "thank you"s into the kiss. Feliciano responded in kind.

Ludwig broke the kiss, holding Feliciano's face as gently as he could, never wanting to see it broken and battered even again. He placed a kiss on Feliciano's forehead.

"Would you please accept my apology?" He asked, willing his voice not to break.

"Already have. You don't ever seem to stop apologizing." Feliciano smiled a watery smile. "Would you accept my forgiveness?"

"I'll… I'll try."

"And would you accept my apology?"

Ludwig shook his head and laughed. "Would you accept that, for you, there is nothing that needs forgiveness?"

Feliciano's responding smile was ancient, wise, betraying his true age. Ludwig knew that Feliciano would never claim to be guiltless. No one of their kind would ever claim that.

"Can… can we stay like this? Until we fall asleep?" Ludwig asked, keeping his arms wrapped around Feliciano's small, soft frame.

Feliciano glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was getting closer to five. Outside, the sky was just starting to shift to a lighter violet. But they were still cloaked in a comfortable, silent, darkness.

"Only if I get to sleep in." Feliciano grinned playfully.

Ludwig blinked in surprise a little at the sudden shift in Feliciano's smile. He couldn't help the tugging at his own lips in return, feeling comfort radiating off of Feliciano.

"Ten minutes." He decided he could allow.

"Half an hour." Feliciano demanded, quickly.

"Fifteen."

"Twenty-five."

"Fifteen."

"… Twenty."

"… Fine."

"Yay!" Feliciano nuzzled himself back into Ludwig's chest.

And they laid like that, their breathing falling into a shared rhythm, slow and easy.

"I feel safe like this." Feliciano hummed. "You make me feel safe."

Ludwig took in a deep, relaxed breath. "I feel safe with you too."

"Good," Feliciano murmured. "Now go back to sleep. No more nightmares."

Ludwig followed directions. And, happily, he never relived that wretched moment again.