A/N: I don't own Hetalia.
This is set in the Cardverse. If you don't know what that is, you should probably look that up before reading this.
This story features an insane Italy.
WARNINGS: Insanity, Blood/Gore, Character Death
"H-Help! Guards! A-Alfred!"
Arthur's screams went unheard, stifled by thick stone walls and drowned out by thunder. He staggered down the hall, clutching his side and desperately trying to stem the flow of blood. Behind him, he could hear the calm, even footsteps of his attacker.
He shuddered. When Feliciano Vargas, the Jack of Hearts, had asked to speak with him, he had thought nothing of it. It was quite important for the nobility of the four kingdoms to keep each other informed about various subjects.
By the time he realized the Jack's murderous intent, it was too late to do anything but run, to run from the Jack and his shining silver knife.
He turned the corner. If he could only find someone to help…
But then his assailant was upon him, pushing him against the wall and whispering to him.
"Have you ever watched someone bleed? It's-a beautiful. The most beautiful red." Cut. "It gushes." Nick. "Or drips." Carve. "A glorious crimson waterfall." Slice. "It's the most wonderful thing I have ever seen. It entrances me. I could watch it forever, but a question burned in my brain."
He paused. "It makes-a perfect sense for a Heart to bleed red. It is our color, after all. But do the other suits bleed red? Do the Clubs? Or the Diamonds? Or the Spades?"
His victim struggled to speak.
"This shall be seen as an act of war against Spades," he choked out.
"Oh, but it isn't anything-a personal, your Highness," the Heart assured him. "I just needed a Spade, and who is a Spade more than the King or Queen?"
He laughed as the blonde finally went limp. Green eyes stared ahead, unseeing.
Arthur Kirkland, Queen of Spades, would never take another breath.
The blood that pooled on the cold stone floor was a deep, deep red.
The former Jack of Hearts was caught as he attempted to murder the Jack of Clubs, Roderick Edelstein.
He simply smiled as they bound his hands.
He said not a word as his case was tried.
He said nothing as he was sentenced to death by hanging.
He remained silent as they locked him away.
When the guards came the next morning to bring him to his place of execution, they found a gruesome sight: a smiling corpse and a shattered dinner plate.
Feliciano had slit his wrists and used the blood to write a single word, his last word, on the wall.
"Beautiful."
The blood was a deep, deep red.
A/N: Wow. This was really difficult to write.
I was really nervous about posting this, so please tell me what you think.
If anyone is wondering, I don't hate Italy, England, or Austria. In fact, England and Austria are my favorites. I am of the opinion, however, that it is never good to always be kind to your favorites. :)