Feliciano and Ludwig, owners of a rather strange and rocky friendship, are in the midst of WWII. Soon enough, their countries call them both to war, and in an effort to maintain their friendship, Feliciano suggest writing letters to each other. These letters not only contain their current status, but their emotions on the war as well as the worries for each other. I will be writing for Feliciano ( N. Italy) and my friend Flavored_band_aids will write for Ludwig (Germany). This will make the letters a bit interesting and hopefully make them more realistic for you, the reader.

The letters will be a progression throughout the war and maybe some time after if we decide to continue; we are not sure yet. We hope you all enjoy!

Flavored-band-aids: P.s. We embrace your criticism. This helps makes us better writers. If you would like to contribute ideas, scenes you'd like to see, etc. don't hesitate to tell us!

Flavored-band-aids: P.s.s. I'm sorry if the two are a bit out of character, but then again we're doing a serious fan-fic…..so we've already thrown everything into an OOC situation. I mean come on Hetalia? Serious? BWAHAHAHAHAH! YEAH RIGHT!


Letters To:

Ludwig

Dear Ludwig,

I am sitting in a trench writing this letter to you, I am supposed to be sleeping, but I don't see how when it's so loud and cold. It's funny that I cannot sleep when I have the time, when all I want to do is sleep when I am patrolling the trench. Maybe because when I am moving around I am not so cold and it doesn't feel so damp. I can do nothing but write letters and pray sleep finds me in my down time otherwise what use will I be?

I think I feel worst though when I am standing guard… just waiting to be attacked. I can feel the mud seep into my boots as I stand guard for hours at a time wishing, day dreaming that I could feel the warmth of the sun on my face that has been so selfishly taken from me. I wish I was back in my vineyard sipping wine and riding my horse. I want these things… I can almost feel and taste them as I reminisce about them ... and then a gun will fire and shatter my dreams. A harsh reality sets in and I am taken back to reality where I no longer feel anything but cold and miserable.

It does not help that my comrades' morale is weakening. They no longer see what the point of all this war is. I find sometimes that I feel very much the same, that this is all pointless and silly. I feel terrible after theses thoughts, I feel as if I am betraying you by saying such things when I remember the person you are, brave and strong.

How do you do it Ludwig? How can you be so brave and strong, see an end and a goal? When, I myself cannot. I wish I was more like you… that I could go on and know that this is what I want… that this is what is best. But, I cannot say that I know in my heart this is what will be best in the end. I see so much pain and heartache, I can't see how this will end well, I cannot see how this could ever have a happy ending when I see my friends die before my eyes.

But then… I think of you… you are the light at the end of the tunnel. When I think of your bravery and strength I know I can get through this. I know I can overcome the homesickness and loneliness I feel. If not for myself then for you, to prove to you that I can be something more than just the little Italian runt you used to tease me I was. You are what propels me through these endless days and nights as I try to cling to this reality and not one that is now my past.

But there is one dream I will always cling to my dear Ludwig, and that is of a day when we will be able to sit on the porch outside my home and drink wine and beer. We will look back on these days as a distant memory of things that once were but never again have to be. We will laugh and tell jokes and stories of the days long before this happened when I was still a pasta filled runt fueled by sunshine and wine; and you were the headstrong young man, fueled by beer and wurst, raised to be a great and heroic man. Of course, when we look back you will still be that man, heroic…

I miss you Ludwig. I await your letter with shaking hands and maybe even a small smile.

Sincerely,

Feliciano Vargas