A/N: This is my first entry for my challenge! It's...well, it's different. It was the first idea I'd gotten for a Hetalia fanfiction, and after perusing around the site I learned that I couldn't find very many superamazing dark!Italy fics. (If you know of one, please let me know, I'd love to read it.)

It was also based off of the song "Don't Mess With Me" by Temposhark. It was the only thing I listened to while writing this...which is probably why it has around 200 plays in my iTunes library, and themes from the lyrics.

It's probably not good. But I don't care. :)

Enjoy anyways.

Germany's POV

Something was wrong.

Of course, around Ludwig's place (especially when the childlike auburn-haired man Feliciano or his own arrogant albino older brother Gilbert were around, which was rather often given the fact that they both lived in his house), this was not uncommon.

The first thing that he noticed, tipping him off immediately, was the light amber brown reflecting from Feliciano's eyes. They were open, which was a rare occasion within itself. Ludwig had seen it before, it certainly wasn't the first time; what was the first time though was the lack of luster reflecting back. The warm, happy glow was missing from his eyes, and he felt a sinking feeling deep inside his stomach.

He set the plate of pancakes down from where he had just retrieved them from the microwave next to a bottle of maple syrup (Gilbert had brought them home last week from a friend's that he was visiting, and Feliciano had taken a liking to them). "Good morning, Italy," he nodded nonchalantly yet seriously, as he normally would. Maybe if he pretended that nothing was wrong, nothing would be wrong.

"Ve," Feliciano mused, smiling. "Good morning, Doitsu!" The light never seemed to return to his eyes, but he passed it off as nothing more than just the morning fog that overcame everyone at one time or another. He couldn't help but keep it in the back of his mind, though. "Pancakes for breakfast! Yum~"

Ludwig nodded, and sat down to a rather quiet breakfast. Nothing unusual happened, of course- there was still Feliciano yammering on about who-knows-what and a hungover Gilbert stumbling up the stairs from "his awesome house under bruder's", also known as Ludwig's basement.

"Time to get ready for morning training, Italy," Ludwig nodded, standing up and taking Feliciano's plate as he moved over to the sink. Feliciano grinned, getting up skittering across the kitchen floor.

"I'll be back in just a minute!" Feliciano exclaimed, dashing out of the room. He really should save that energy for training, Ludwig thought to himself.

Feliciano was always late. That was a fact that Ludwig knew by heart, but this? An hour late was just ridiculous by any standards. Given that boy's attention span, he was probably either cooking pasta in the kitchen (and making a huge mess that Ludwig would grudgingly have to clean up later), playing their friend Kiku's kitten, or talking to strangers as they walked past the house.

Annoyed, Ludwig stormed back into the house. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded when he found Feliciano simply sitting lazily on top of the kitchen counter. Not only was it rude to do such a thing, Ludwig tried not to think about how unsanitary it was. Feliciano smiled slyly, and motioned for him to come closer. He sighed, and stood to the side of him. "What is it?"

"You know, Germany, I've been thinking," Feliciano pondered slowly, carefully, before turning to look down at Ludwig. The two open amber eyes were still unsettling, and he shifted slightly. "No. Perhaps, you've been thinking, that I am weak. That I am dependent completely on you, and others around me. That I give in at the blink of an eye. You may also be thinking that I am always happy, the naive little Italian man that only gets sad when his friends are upset or when he is reminded of the Holy Roman Empire. It is time now for me to prove that you've thought wrong."

Ludwig blinked. He had to be kidding.

Of course, as soon as Feliciano jumped down from the counter, a kitchen knife used for chopping potatoes in hand, did he realize that perhaps he wasn't.

"Maybe, though," Feliciano whispered as he shuffled forwards, leaving Ludwig no place to go but the corner where he was at his most vulnerable. "Maybe, I should make it a bit harder for those of you who have always made it hard for me."

What was he talking about? Ludwig- who wasn't going to let his feelings shine through now of all times- had what he assumed to be a vague crush on Feliciano, given how he had always given him a roof over his head, nice food to eat, and things to do. Sure, he might have worked him too hard once or twice, or yelled at him a few times for making the kitchen too dirty or trailing his muddy shoes towards the house, but still. Being an ally had to be better than being controlled by someone, right?

Feliciano set the knife down on the counter next to them, and rested his hands against Ludwig's shoulders. He could feel the warm breath slowly falling against the side of his neck, and Ludwig shivered. He thought that, not only was all of this wildly out of character for his friend, Feliciano's attempt of being what he thought Kiku would call 'seme' was failing. If only Kiku were here to tell him correctly, or, Ludwig corrected himself, even if he was here to help get the Italian man out of his personal bubble and this strange mood. Of course, his Japanese ally would probably end up running out of the room with a gushing nosebleed, as would Elisabeta, the other strong and somewhat reliable nearby force that he knew wouldn't make fun of him too much like his bruder or, gott, Francis would. Francis would try to join in, knowing that man's tendency to lose all rational ability in this sort of a situation. If he even had rational ability to begin with, that is.

Ludwig shook his gelled blonde hair slightly, trying to get his mind back into what was going on. Feliciano was entirely too close to him, and he had to get off.

Of course, the Italian wasn't strong, so all it took was a bit of extra force to shove him off and onto the floor. It was silent for a second as Feliciano pulled himself up to look into Ludwig's light blue eyes.

"I'm not finished with you, Germany, but you'll see," he insisted before skittering out the door.

Ludwig blinked. Had that really just happened? It never fully registered, but before he knew it he was at the door.

Ludwig yanked on the bronze door handle, and was face to face with a pair of angry hazel eyes. He knew who they belonged to- Feliciano's brother Lovino, who was temperamental, swore every sentence, and had the self esteem of a muffin. "Look, potato bastard, you weren't my first choice to come talk to. I've tried everyone else who could have possibly come in contact with mio fratello. I've been trying to call the jackass all morning and he hasn't answered once. Have you seen him?"

"He just left," he paused. "Your brother...he's been acting strange today."

"When is he not acting strange?" Lovino snorted, resting against the door frame.

"No, it's different today. I think he said something about...us thinking he was weak and useless," Ludwig replied, eyebrows wrinkled.

"Serves you right," Lovino shrugged. "He's been gearing up for a breakdown for a while now. And, you know, it's all your fault."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Says the brother who has been in the background his entire life."

Lovino paused. "I should get going. But, before I do..." he pulled a small, black felt mustache out of his pocket and proceeded to laugh at Ludwig for "looking so ridiculous with such a funny 'moostache'". Then, he turned and left, with Ludwig on his trail. They turned separate directions, with Lovino headed back to Spain and Ludwig to anywhere that he could possibly think of to find his Feli.

Along the way, Ludwig managed to run into almost everyone that closely knew Italy.

First, it was Francis, who was silent. His little bird, Pierre, (which Gilbert refused to ever believe was not a knockoff of his own) had stopped flying and just rested quietly on the shoulder of his master.

Feliks, who Ludwig was not entirely fond of due to his lack of seriousness (honestly, he bought a pony for wartime? And what kind of a man painted his house pink?), seemed a little more buzzed, though. He continued to rant, "Ludwig. Luddy. Feli was like, totally crazy. Did you see him? Oh my god, he was insane."

"I realize that, Feliks," grumbled Ludwig, "that's why I'm trying to find him."

"Can I join the search party?" questioned Feliks, swinging his head around so that he was looking Ludwig in the eyes. Ludwig sighed.

"Fine. You can go," he stopped for a second, and then pointed in the opposite direction that he was headed. "As long as you look over there."

"Ooh!" he exclaimed happily. "That's near Russia! I can, like, go visit my dear Liet!"

"Alright, have fun," Ludwig nodded, continuing on with his search.

One of the last places he could think of was at Roderich's place. He had control over Feliciano when he was young, so he might have gone back to there. When he arrived, it appeared as if the snapped version of the lovable man had already blown through, and talking to Roderich and Elisabeta proved that to be true.

"He had mentioned something to us about wanting to win," Elisabeta mentioned. This was the most unnerved that Ludwig had ever seen her, and since she was generally cool headed unless it involved vital regions, Gilbert, or her frying pan, this didn't help anything. "He wanted...to become the king of the world, is what I'm getting from it. He's been overtaken by a bloodlust, a conquering frenzy."

"This is the worst case of it that I've ever seen," Roderich wearied. "Generally, it develops as a lot of marraiges, strength, arrogance, or simple stupidity...I've never seen it snap someone like this."

"Snap?" Ludwig repeated. He didn't like the word snap, not in this setting.

"Yes, snap," Roderich nodded. "This could be potentially irreversible."

"Snapped...like a toothpick. Clean in half," Ludwig breathed, his eyebrows wrinkling.

"Indeed," Roderich raised his eyebrows slightly in mild amusement. "I worry about him, Ludwig."

"I do too," he murmured.

There was a small, crooked crown resting against his messy auburn hair, his small curl still poking up to the side.

As he was leaving Roderich's house, Ludwig managed to come up with one final place to possibly find Feliciano. It took hours of scouring the area, but finally he came across a small castle-looking room. The lights were dimmed, but there was still enough light to see the smile across the Italian's face.

He was sprawled over the throne in the middle, a small black item of some sort resting against his lips. Ludwig instinctively raised his arms, and Feliciano ushered him in with the drawled movement of four fingers. The stones along the walls and floors all blended in and looked the same, giving an even colder setting to it all. There was a small, crooked crown resting against his messy auburn hair, his small curl still poking up to the side.

"What are you doing?" he demanded weakly.

"What does it look like?" Feliciano replied quirkily. "I'm getting ready to rule the world. Everyone is bowing down to me. And to think, you thought I was weak."

Ludwig felt his breath faltering. "Feliciano, please just listen to me. I lo-" he began to plead- but that was more than Feliciano had wanted to hear. He moved his hand on the black object, and Ludwig could now tell that it was a rather powerful gun.

"Don't mess with me," Feliciano warned, his maniac smile growing slightly. He pulled the trigger, and Ludwig swore the bullet was moving as if the air was gelatin. He could even note that there were words that were scraped into the side of the bullet. The only problem was, they were in Italian. He couldn't even read them if he tried. "Ti amo, Doitsu", they mentioned. It had to do with him, that he knew. Was it good, was it bad? Did he even want to know?

He squeezed his eyes shut. Prepare for the pain, he told himself. There was enough time to move, he knew that, but for whatever reason, he didn't want to have to live if he knew that his life was going to end up being controlled by the contorted shell of a man whom he used to love. He had been snapped like a toothpick, that was for sure. Everything he had known, snapped.

Prepare for the pain...

He could feel the metallic edge of the container moving the air around him...

Prepare...

Ludwig's eyes shot open, his breath shallow and heart pounding. He listened in close, the hushed "ve~" coming from his side a sudden relief to him. He never would have expected that having Feliciano sleeping in his bed would be comforting, but in this case it was. He sat up, moving his blonde hair into the state that it usually was from its disheveled current position. After beginning his morning routine- making the bed, tidying the room, getting dressed, feeding the dogs, and so on-, Ludwig looked back to the bed.

"Mein gott," he whispered. Feliciano had sat up, staring at Ludwig with large, cold, shallow looking amber eyes. The same eyes that he had seen in his nightmare were now staring back at him. "Mein gott."

Next week's one shot: Expect something lighter. Some Spamano, perhaps?