Gift for my sister.

The beauty of the outdoors seemed to mock the Holy Roman Empire as he sat by the window and sighed and wondered why life was so cruel.

The grass was stirred by the summer breeze and moved in gentle waves like an ocean, and sunlight danced upon this ocean, creating fantastic patterns with the shadows of tree branches here and there. The gentle rays also fell upon a small figure in the distance - Italy, her hair gleaming red in the light as she sang a silly song and tended to the garden. She was what made the whole scene so beautiful, so much more lovely than even the nature around her. Holy Rome sighed yet again, leaning his head on his fist as he watched her.

No, not watched. He certainly wasn't watching her. She just happened to be in his view, that was all.

He jumped violently when a shadow fell across him, and he spun around to find Hungary behind him, a knowing smile on her face. Holy Rome blushed and scrambled to come up with an excuse for his being there. "M-Miss Hungary!" he exclaimed. "I-I was just admiring this beautiful day! Quite good weather we're having, wouldn't you agree?" The words came out too fast; he laughed nervously and attempted to covertly shift his position, so that Hungary's view of Italy would be blocked. But alas - Hungary was taller than him.

"Yes, very good weather," Hungary agreed, and her playful tone made him despair. She knew, she had to. "Tell me, Holy Rome... are you all right?"

Holy Rome blinked, taken aback. Well... he certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Um, y-yes. I'm fine. Perfectly fine! Why do you ask?" he stammered out.

"You've seemed a little troubled lately," said Hungary, and she appeared to be genuinely concerned. Holy Rome relaxed a little, letting out a quiet breath. Perhaps she hadn't noticed who he was definitely not watching.

"No, I'm..." he began, but his voice trailed off, and he frowned. Hungary was always kind to him, and she was a woman. Perhaps she could help. "Could... could I ask you something, Miss Hungary?" he said hesitantly.

"Anything," she said warmly.

"What do you do... when you want to... impress someone?"

Hungary smiled. "Is there 'someone' in particular?"

"No!" Holy Rome said hastily. "I just... want to know. For... future reference... and, well, just in case. You know."

"I think I do," Hungary said with a twinkling in her eyes, and Holy Rome could tell that she knew exactly what and whom he was talking about. He blushed again, but to his relief, the female nation didn't push the issue. Instead, she grew thoughtful and seemed to put some real consideration into his question.

"Well," she said, "why not just try to be yourself? There's no better way to win someone than to trust them enough to be yourself around them."

Holy Rome started to panic. Himself? But 'himself' was clumsy and quiet and couldn't talk straight around Italy, and he was sure she would only grow bored of him eventually. "Isn't there any other way to do it?" he asked desperately.

Hungary chuckled to herself. "I thought you wouldn't like that suggestion," she murmured. "You need to have more confidence! Tell me some of your talents."

Holy Rome was startled by this sudden question. "M-my talents?"

"Yes, your talents! What are you good at?"

"Um..." Holy Rome thought about this and came up blank. He rather liked reading, and he was good at remembering things, but those didn't count, did they? "I don't know," he said, rather hopelessly.

Hungary sighed. "Come now! You're the Holy Roman Empire! You must be able to think of something."

Holy Rome scrambled for an idea. "Uh, well, I'm a fair hand at the sword," he blurted out.

Hungary frowned thoughtfully. "The sword, hmm... I suppose we could arrange a small demonstration. I'm sure Mr. Austria would be happy to oblige."

"A d-demonstration?" Holy Rome stammered. "Why?"

"To impress your 'someone', of course!" Hungary said with a wink.

Holy Rome could feel his face heating up at the thought. Let Italy watch him at swordplay? Why would she care about that? And how would he ever be able to focus like he needed to? He tried to protest, but Hungary would have none of it.

"No, this is a wonderful idea!" she said. "I'll go and get Mr. Austria. Why don't you get weapons you'll need? I think there are some practice swords in storage somewhere."

And because Hungary could be quite an intimidating woman when she wanted to be, Holy Rome found himself being shooed away to find practice swords for himself and Austria, and he was so panicked that he found it quite impossible to argue.

When Hungary pitched the suggestion, Austria frowned down at his desk. "I don't have time for that," he said, scowling. "No."

Hungary folded her arms. She'd been expecting this, but Austria was a challenge she could easily handle, and she wasn't worried. "Come on, Mr. Austria," she said. "Don't be like that."

"You can handle a sword perfectly well, Hungary," Austria said evenly, not looking up from his work. "Do it yourself."

"And fluster Holy Rome even more? I think not." Hungary shook her head at the thought. "He'll be nervous enough as it is. You need to do this. Do it for him and Italy."

"Like I said, I'm busy."

However, he heard a thump and found Hungary's hands on his desk. She was bending down to give him one of those looks of hers. "Mr. Austria," she said sweetly. "You're partial to your original sheet music collection, aren't you?"

"Yes, I a-" Austria suddenly hesitated in mid-sentence, giving her a suspicious glance. The gleam in her eyes warned him. "You wouldn't."

"I had to move it for cleaning this morning, and you don't know where it is."

"Hungary, this is absolutely uncalled for..."

"I mean it. Do this, and it'll be back in its usual place tomorrow morning."

This was ridiculous. Austria intended to glare Hungary out of it, but it soon became clear that the stubborn woman wasn't going to budge an inch. He should have known.

"Fine," he said, setting his pen down. "I'll do it. But if even one thing is out of place..."

"It will all be where it's supposed to be," Hungary said and suddenly became cheerful, all sunshine and butterflies again. "Thank you, Mr. Austria. I appreciate it!"

Austria sighed as Hungary turned to go. "Be sure to be in the courtyard in a few minutes!" the female nation called over her shoulder as she left. Austria gave a noncommittal grunt and began to collect his work to file for now, but hesitated when he heard Hungary stop at the door.

"Trust me, Austria," she said, pausing under the doorframe. "This will mean a lot more, coming from you." Then she was gone, and Austria sighed again, not as irritated as he should have been.

Hungary had seated herself on the grass underneath one of the courtyard's trees, and Italy was on her lap, and the Holy Roman Empire couldn't believe he was actually doing this.

He had a blunt practice sword held at the ready, and Austria faced him. The stern nation seemed a little exasperated at the situation, but he went along willingly enough, and he gave Holy Rome an unsmiling look. "Are you ready?"

Holy Rome swallowed with some difficulty and nodded.

"Try not to hurt each other!" Italy called anxiously from her seat on Hungary's lap. "Don't get wounded!"

She meant well, but she wasn't helping, because her voice only made Holy Rome even more nervous. He heard Hungary laugh and assure Italy that everything would be fine, and then her voice dropped to a whisper, and Holy Rome thought she may have been saying something about him. But he couldn't tell, and he was struggling to control his nervousness, and oh, he wished that he'd never even mentioned swordplay. It wasn't that he was bad at it - he was actually quite good - but how was he supposed to do his best with Italy watching?

Don't think about her, don't think about her, he thought, mentally steeling himself. He focused only on the sword in his hand and on Austria facing him, and he let himself remember all the practice routines he'd learned when training in swordplay.

"Let's begin," Austria said.

Then they were at it, and for a little while, Holy Rome did not think about Italy. He and Austria moved through some basic routines, combinations of lunges and parries and uppercuts and undercuts that even boys knew how to do, and Holy Rome began to relax. The familiar rhythm of the blade came back to him, and he even began to smile.

That is, until Italy apparently got over her fear that they would hurt each other and started cheering.

Her voice jarred Holy Rome from his comfortable pattern, and his eyes went wide. He miscounted on his next parry, and only Austria's skill and control saved him from some bruising on his ribs. Austria withdrew for a moment, frowning at Holy Rome. "Concentrate," he said.

Holy Rome flushed. "I know," he said and went on the attack, determined to regain his earlier composure and impress Italy with his skill. But now he was thinking about Italy, and he couldn't stop, and his timing wasn't anything like it had been before. He could tell Austria was trying to go easy on him because of it, but that only embarrassed him even more and threw him too far off.

Holy Rome didn't know how it happened, how he managed to screw up so badly. Somehow, he lost control of one of his own strokes, and his practice blade wobbled in his hand, bouncing back to strike the arm opposite the one holding it. There was a sharp, stinging pain, and Holy Rome dropped his sword out of reflex. "Ow!" he said, and he stared, aghast, at the small wound on his left arm.

It was bleeding, actually bleeding. He'd cut himself with a blunt sword, his own sword! His face was already burning. He could see Austria step back and lower his own sword, shaking his head, but worst of all was Italy. She was running to him, face full of concern. "Holy Rome!" she cried. "You're hurt! Let me see!"

Holy Rome wanted to sink into the earth right then and there. "N-no, Italy," he stammered. "It's nothing. Just a stupid mistake. Don't look!"

But Italy would have none of it and grabbed his arm, examining the tiny wound. "Oh, you're bleeding!" she said in distress.

Hungary, who had come up behind Italy, smiled slightly as she patted Holy Rome's shoulder. "I'll get water and a bandage," she said. "And Mr. Austria will come with me. Italy, will you take care of Holy Rome until we get back?"

"I will!" Italy said firmly, and Hungary winked at Holy Rome.

He was sure his face was brighter than the sun by now. As Hungary left, towing a bemused Austria behind her, Holy Rome tried to apologize to Italy.

"I'm s-sorry," he said, looking intently at the ground. "I messed up! I'm really not that bad at swordplay, I promise."

"But you were wonderful!" Italy insisted, smiling brightly. She reached for the ribbon around her waist and undid it, and before Holy Rome could protest, she wrapped it around his arm, neatly covering the wound.

"But your ribbon!" Holy Rome spluttered. "It will get bloody."

"It's just a ribbon," Italy said. "And look! Now you'll have a battle scar!"

Holy Rome hadn't thought his face could get any warmer and was promptly proven wrong. It was a tiny cut that would heal over soon enough without leaving a mark, and it was hardly from a battle. He'd cut himself! But he found that he didn't want to argue with Italy, because he suddenly realized that she was far closer to him than he was used to, and she was actually taking care of him. The realization made him feel weak in the knees, and Italy noticed how he wobbled.

"Are you feeling faint?" she asked worriedly. "Here, you should sit!"

And he still couldn't protest. Italy made him sit down on the cobblestone, and she sat down next to him, chattering away about the mock battle in excitement. It was mostly a one-sided conversation, because Holy Rome was flustered to the point that he couldn't talk, but that was okay. Italy didn't seem to mind, and Holy Rome was glad just to live in that one moment, even though it made him dizzy with nerves.

Hungary and Austria hesitated in the inner entrance to the courtyard, Hungary carrying a bowl of water and some bandages and Austria just following even though he absolutely was not curious, as he'd firmly told Hungary. They watched the two in the courtyard, who sat together and talked - or rather, Italy talked.

Austria was shaking his head. "Why do I get the feeling that you orchestrated this to happen?" he asked.

Hungary smiled at him. "I didn't think he'd hurt himself," she said. "But it all worked out in the end, didn't it?" She turned her eyes back to Italy and Holy Rome, and her expression softened. "It's a hard world, Mr. Austria. They should at least have each other."

Austria couldn't argue with that. They watched in silence for a few moments longer, then Austria fidgeted. "What about my sheet music?" he asked in concern.

The worry in his voice was unmistakable. Hungary burst into laughter. "It will be perfectly fine," she reassured him. "I wouldn't have really done anything to it. I know how much you love your music."

Austria wasn't so sure, but as Hungary entered the courtyard and brought the water and bandages to Holy Rome, he could only sigh and follow.