Never call Prussia Kaliningrad. It brings back bad memories of his time under Russia, back when the wall was around. I think someone put something in my drink... I'm sleepy... How did it get dark so fast...?
Kaliningrad. Kaliningrad. Someone keeps talking about a Kaliningrad. Why are they talking about Prussia? This is bad. I ve been kidnapped. Worse, by Russia, who wants me to lure his precious Kaliningrad back to him. He will do anything. Russia wants Prussia back, to drag him back into his dark, demonic, Soviet sinkhole for the second time. Last time, it took years to get him to his semi-normal, non-Stockholm self. During that time, he dissolved. The final time. He was brought back to represent East Germany during the Cold War, and after that, he had nothing. No use. He still held onto his body somehow, waiting for the end. We both were. What use is there for two Italies anymore? Naught. Absolutely naught. We are extremely close, and that, I guess, is why Russia took me. Low risk, but would still get him. His Kaliningrad is all that matters. I m expendable. A well-placed blow to the head with that pipe would end it all. I m not going to last long alone, and when Kaliningrad arrives, which he will, he ll need help. I need to get untied. That freaky Russian has his back turned, so if I can get my knife out of my back pocket, I ll be as good as freed. In my left pocket is a scarlet knife with a brilliant edge. Don t worry Kaliningrad, I m almost out, almost free.
If all goes well, the Confederation of Sicily and Prussia will rise, bringing the world to its knees. The other nations would kneel before us, that is, if it could happen. Sadly, it never will. Two Ex-Nations could never rule in any near future. I ll probably die at the hands of the Soviet psycho, Prussia too...
The Russian man before me has no respect. He knows that His Kaliningrad is coming for me, not him. He hates Russia. He knows that the hot-headed Italy of the south is on the mind of the albino Ex-Nation, not becoming one with Russia. I cut the ropes off my wrists, hiding the fact when Russia turned around. "I guess the little one is up now, da?" He said. I glared up at him, not giving him the pleasure of hearing me speak. "Not talking, da? That is very rude." He said. His smile went away for a moment, returning a sadistic, twisted smirk. "Well, I guess I ll have to teach you a lesson." He lifted his pipe up over his head, preparing to strike, when I finally made my move. I jammed my pocket knife into his leg. He let out a startled cry of pain that morphed into one of rage as I ran, only to realize that the door was locked. Russia's pained expression turned to a childish, cruel one. He pulled my knife out of his leg and slowly stood up. He hobbled over to where I was and cornered me, using the pipe to prop himself up. He smirked again. "You didn't think this through, did you? I always get what I want. You don't matter. You never did." He spat. He leaned slightly, putting all of his weight onto his uninjured leg, and raised his pipe once more. "Bye-bye Romano." A beam of light came through a crack in the door, and this light had a voice. A raspy voice with a thick German accent. "Stop Russia. It's me you want. Leave Romano out of this." It said, shadow taking shape. It was too late, though. He hit me. He nearly bashed my head in, but the surprise of Prussia showing up startled him, making him miss by an inch, shattering my shoulder and arm. I let out a strangled cry of pain, and fell over, thankfully, onto my good side; tears running down my cheeks.
Prussia snapped at this. He let out a war cry, so violent and full of rage, hatred, pain, and grief, that it shook the room. He drew his sword; old, beaten, but extremely strong and sharp, and lunged at the Russian, who blocked it. Russia swung his pipe around and hit Prussia square in the chest, and no doubt breaking a few of his ribs.
"Let. Mein. Italien. Go." Prussia hissed at the Russian, who was now standing over him, frowning. "Why, Kaliningrad?" Prussia spaced out for a second, then leapt up at Russia. "MY NAME IS PRUSSIA, NOT KALININGRAD!" He screamed. He screamed it over and over, with every blow he threw. Russia blocked every last one. "Oh no, this simply won t do~ I guess I ll have to break you, my pet~" Russia said in a twisted, singsong voice. He swung his pipe, hitting Prussia. There was a dull, cracking thud as Russia's pipe made contact with the side of Prussia s head. The Russian flung him aside. I screamed, and against the pain, threw myself to my feet and ran over to Prussia s side, crying more than ever.
"Prussia! Wake up! Wake up! Stay with me! Don t go... Don t... Leave... Don t... Die..." I choked out. Russia simply stood there. He made no attempt to stop me. He stayed where he was and watched as I sobbed. We were both surprised when Prussia s hand raised. The dying man cupped my face in his hand. "I don't want to see you cry. America showed me this song, I think it s fitting." He said, grinning. "Gather up your tears, keep them in your pocket, and save them for a time when you're really gonna need them..." He sung. Tears began to well up in his eyes and he said, "ich liebe dich, Romano. Always and forever." My eyes widened. "T-Ti amo, Prussia..." I stuttered. He gave a contented sigh, closing his eyes for the final time.
I bolted upright in bed, screaming bloody murder, when a pair of arms wrapped themselves around my shoulders. His chin rested on top of my head, and he murmured little words of comfort, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. I leaned into it. "I-I thought... You where... D-Dead..." I said, crying. I turned around, clinging to the front of his shirt, and sobbed into his shoulder. "D-Don t go..." I said. "I don't plan to. Ich liebe dich, Romano..." he said, slowly pulling me over onto his lap. "Ti amo..." I said. "C-Can you stay up until I go back to sleep?" I mumbled, blushing fiercely. "Sure. Goodnight, mein liebe..." he said, laying over, pulling me with him.
He really cares... to him, I really do matter... I love you...
Romano then fell asleep under the watchful red eyes of his lover, and the nightmares never came back.