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The Holy Roman Empire. One of the greatest empires of all time, built on intelligence and creativity, warfare and beauty. Everything that a nation should be. And Germany could hardly say the name without a sour taste filling his mouth.
Every night for a month, Italy had climbed into his bed (as usual) and dreamed aloud. That isn't exactly a problem, for Germany had long since gotten used to the invasion of personal space (and let's not forget the breaking and entering) and it was not unusual that Italy spoke in his sleep. Germany at some times stayed up to hear Italy's ramblings with artists and scientist from the Renaissance. The talks were usually cheerful, filled with arguments about oil paints versus watercolor or good-natured debates about the position of the Earth (whether it was at the center of the universe or not). Most of the time Germany stay in bed confused about the topics of the conversation and marveled at how serious and knowledgeable Italy was in the arts. Maybe when Japan and Germany talked during battle meetings, about warfare and such, Italy felt the same way Germany did on those clear and starry nights, dazed and out of his element.
The problems began when Italy began not to speak to Galileo or Dante in his happy smooth language, slightly slurred with exhaustion, but instead frantically in clipped Italian, words sharp and clear as if it was orchestrated to make Germany hear every mournful word. The small Italian was never a sound sleeper (he wasn't still doing anything) but lately Italy was stone still in bed, only his lips moving in an anguished chant. Germany tried to wake up Italy during the night but that only resulted in him waking briefly, then going back to the same tortured delirium. He tried giving him medicine that would help Italy sleep dreamless. Although it worked, the next day Italy's hand would be shaking so bad he couldn't hold a paintbrush or cook pasta. Trick after trick and nothing worked.
Germany had made the mistake of telling France about his sleeping problem, to which the blonde man grinned lewdly and answered "I 'eard reaching an orgasm 'elps with any sleep issue." Germany found he couldn't argue with that. France of all people would know. But the issue was not the desperate. And who would he find (other that France) to voluntarily sleep with Italy?
"Holy Rome, Holy Rome, Holy Rome, Holy Rome, Holy Rome, Holy Rome…." Italy groaned into the pillow, eyes shut tightly, forehead lined with creases made from countless nights whimpering the lost nation's name. Germany was getting tired of it. Not of Italy of course, he was to smart and to cheerful to every get seriously mad at, but Germany was angry that such an old nation, (one MUCH older himself) was getting to Italy so bad. Was it some past war? As far was Germany knew Italy had been in a few wars (many, given by Italy's age) but he never fought the Holy Roman Empire. Italy was a part of it for while until he got abducted by Austria. Did Italy know what happened to Holy Rome?
When Germany was smaller he asked about the Holy Roman Empire to his older brother, Prussia, who first turned very pale (if such a thing is possible)than very red. "Nobody knows. But you are not to ask anyone about this unless it's me. No. Never speak of the Holy Roman Empire after this". Germany remembered nodding and shaking off the feeling of uncertainty. Germans took orders and never went back if their commandeered said no. So Germany never questioned it again, up until Italy began having these night terrors.
Germany began reading about night terrors and how to get rid of them. He found that if a victim of theses reoccurring nightmares was able to explain one whole dream to a close friend or partner, it would be the first step to stopping the plague of images.
One morning while Italy stumbled downstairs, having had limited sleep the night before, Germany decided to test the speaking theory out. Italy sat down and glanced at the cup of black coffee sitting on the wooden table before grabbing a spoon and began heaping outrageous amounts of sugar into the black liquid. Germany sat across from the brunette looking at him intently. Italy noticed Germany staring at him and gave an amused half smile. "When did Su-san teach you how to glare?"
Germany smiled back and for the next few minutes they talked aimlessly about whether Sweden and Finland were a couple or whom was to blame for Prussia's behavior: Spain or France. Germany waited until Italy looked totally relaxed, leaning back into the chair and nursing his cooling coffee.
"Italy what do you dream about?"
There was a sharp snap as the front legs of the chair slammed onto the tiled floor, and the clatter of the previously in-tact mug making contact with the cold ground. Italy didn't stick around to clean the mess. He mentioned something about having to meet with his little brother for the next World Meeting and mumbled a short apology to Germany about the cup.
Germany decided he wouldn't ask Italy about his dreams again.
Note- I do not portray Italy as some stupid pasta loving idiot. He was the producer of some of the smartest people in history and made many of the world's most important discoveries. Italy is skilled in Math, Science, Language Arts, and EARLY Social Studies. He just chooses not to involve himself with war because of reason I will reveal soon.
PLEASE R&R SO I KNOW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE!