Hetaverse. Germany-centric.

The River Lethe (River of Forgetfulness) is a concept borrowed from Greek mythology.

This was written for the 100 themes challenge for the prompt "Questioning".

Ludwig wandered aimlessly through the gloom, carefully observing the soft crunch of reeds beneath his boots and the low gurgle of the dark river to his left. The moon was visible and full as it set the Earth aglow with its pale radiance, providing just enough light to allow for convenient travel but not enough for him to determine his location. Somewhere in the distance, a train sounded its whistle and put the man at ease. Many a night he had fallen asleep with the familiar tone resounding in his chest. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he could taste his surroundings: the slightly fish-flavored water of the stream, the freshness of the plant life, the powdery dampness of the pebbles along the bank. It was a beautiful night, ripe with possibility.

With a start, he realized that he almost hadn't seen the boy at the water's edge, pale feet dangling into the slow-moving river. He stopped short.

"Excuse me," Ludwig addressed the silent figure, "but shouldn't you be at home? It's late, and I'm fairly certain that tonight is a school night."

"I haven't got a home." The young voice answered, still sweet with childhood. Ignoring the other comment entirely, he continued. "But what about Herr Deutschland? Haven't you a home?"

Ludwig hesitated. "How do you know me?"

Upon closer inspection, the nation realized that the boy's dark cloak was tattered and stained with ominous, rust-colored splotches that could barely be distinguished in the faint moonlight. A shiver of apprehension crept down his spine as ageless sapphire eyes caught his and held him prisoner.

"Do you know yourself, Herr Deutschland? Perhaps I should ask how you know yourself, first."

"What?"

Tilting his pale-locked head back, he hummed. "Who are you, Herr Deutschland?"

"I'm as you say: Deutschland, but I'm also called Ludwig."

"What sort of person are you?"

Ludwig eyed him suspiciously. "I'm a nation, not a human. Are you asking that?"

"No." The boy returned his gaze to a distant point beyond the river's opposite bank. "I'm asking about your personality, your identity. Yes, you are greatly influenced by your children, but I do know that nations are not so shallow as to contain only whatever 'national character' has been bestowed upon them by their peoples. Tell me, Herr Deutschland, what sort of person are you?"

"I…" He struggled. Never before had be been asked to separate himself from his children in such a way; he overlapped them, and they, him. Finally, he sighed. "I'm German."

"Very true." A shadow danced across the other's youthful visage. "You are also loyal, protective, and disillusioned. You are capable of great cruelty, have committed great crimes, and have suffered for all of it. You still suffer for the sins of your children, don't you, Herr Deutschland?

"And you are cautious, afraid to get close to anyone. Your heart is locked and your emotions are hidden, but your hold is starting to slip. Why is that?"

Ears ablaze with shame and rising anger, Ludwig dropped his stare to his shined black boots. "If you know all this, why are you asking me?"

"Because I don't know if you know the answers. You don't often think about yourself."

"Why would I?"

"To face the fear and anguish of the past, to remember a time when you were young and the world seemed so perfectly endless, to consider yourself as an individual being separate from your title… any of these are correct.

He hissed in his breath, teeth clenched harshly in a grimace. "It would be a waste of time."

"I wonder, Herr Deutschland, if you ever grow weary… Do you grow weary of packing everything you feel into a tiny labeled box for storage? I wonder if Herr Deutschland has ever loved."

Once. He admits silently, too ashamed to utter the single condemning syllable. I have loved once and never again.

"That's right." A knowing grin had curled the boy's colorless lips. "You have loved only once, but it was a strong love, was it not? A love to outlast the centuries."

"It was only love, nothing more."

"There is no such thing as 'only love', Herr Deutschland. Love is constant and everywhere at once."

Tongue dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth, Ludwig forced out a wheeze. "Where was it during the Second World War?"

"Love for one's country, love for one's family and friends, love for the comrades of battle, love for life, love for chaos, love for…" He shuddered. "Death."

"Then love is destructive." Ludwig decided. "If it confuses us and makes us act irrationally, then perhaps it is better that we avoid it."

"But there is no life without love."

Growing impatient, the nation bellowed, "You're worthless! Your arguments are leading you in circles and testing my patience! Why do you care if I have emotions or anything at all when I couldn't care less myself?"

He breathed heavily, impressively, for a moment, glaring missiles at the motionless child before him.

"Do you truly not care, Herr Deutschland?" His voice was bitter with disappointment, like a parent who's just been informed of his child's hatred. "Have you truly grown so angry and hollow that you can no longer muster the ability to feel?"

Ludwig couldn't answer, and so the child added, "I'm sorry to see what I am to become."

"What you…?"

Rising to his feet, he stood tall before the stunned nation. "Do you know which river this is?"

"I…"

"This is Lethe, the River of Forgetfulness." The childish tone took on a mournful quality. "The souls of the dead may drink from it to be reborn, but only in exchange for the memories of their life. However, I had one memory too powerful to be stolen from me, and it is this: I have loved once, only once, but with a love to outlast eternities, and do you know how I know this?"

The German was speechless.

"Because you still love now that which I did then."

Ludwig awoke with tears in his eyes and Feliciano at his side, murmuring gentle, sleep talk nonsense into his ear. On an impulse, he drew the smaller male closer to him, fitting the other's slender body comfortably against his own.

"You're being nice tonight, Germany…" he murmured, only half conscious.

Breath echoing strangely through his ears, the other man whispered, "Do you know that I love you, Italy?"

"It makes me happy to hear…" The statement was cut short by a breathy yawn. Smacking his lips, Feliciano buried his face into the German's chest.

"Do you know that I've always loved you?"

Perhaps he was sleep talking again, perhaps he was giving an honest answer, either way, Ludwig's heart froze in place because the answer given was "Yes."