1
"Just give it up, Holy Rome!" France shouted hoarsely from the other side of the filthy battlefield. Holy Rome stood, weakened, breathing heavily, his long sword still gripped tightly in one hand. Dark scratches and fresh blood wounds covered his pale face. His clothes were soaked with mud. "We both know it's hopeless! You're outnumbered. You're weak!" Holy Rome glanced behind him. Austria, Spain and Poland lay injured on the ground, smeared with dirt and blood. Other soldiers were strewn over the plain. Turning back to face his enemy, a dark sensation churned in his stomach. France was right: he was outnumbered. Still, he couldn't let himself be defeated. Not only for his sake, nor that of his wounded allies, but for the little Italy who waited eagerly for his return. The child's innocent smile flashed across Holy Rome's mind. The thought of 'her' made him stronger.
"Do your worst, France!" he cried, brandishing his sword high into the dark sky above. Austria raised his head in horror.
"Holy Rome, no!"
"What is he doing?!" Spain joined in. "He'll be killed!" The men watched helplessly as Holy Rome charged straight for the unflinching wall of soldiers on the other side of the battle field, his sword catching in the light and his cape flying furiously behind him.
"You've got guts!" France remarked, blocking the attack of Holy Rome's sword with his own blade. "But at what cost!" The man quickly swung his sword upwards, knocking Holy Rome's out of his hand. Holy Rome gasped as his weapon spun away, along the wet ground. Before France could attack, the boy sprinted under him and dived to the ground. He skidded freely along the muddy ground and snatched the sword back. France swung violently at the boy as he got to his feet. Holy Rome barely managed to dodge the attack, the blade grazing his shoulder. With the sword back in his hand, the boy prepared for the next blow, fixing his stare upon the man's chest. France hesitated for a moment before catching on to his train of thought. Holy Rome leapt into the air, the sword held over his head and made to strike France. The man moved back, so the sword only brushed against France's shoulder and, taken by surprise, Holy Rome landed badly on his feet. The boy felt the ground slip beneath him and he suddenly fell to the ground. France smiled wryly. Holy Rome watched as France approached, towering over him, cast in shadow.
"Not so strong now, are you, Holy Rome?" The boy remained silent and stole a glance at his sword which lay caked in mud, a little way off. France noticed and stamped a heavy boot over the blade.
"Ah-ah-ah. Not so fast." Both locked gazes. "This has gone on long enough, Holy Rome. You and Spain won't threaten me and my country's borders any more!"
Austria, Spain and Poland watched silently as, in the distance, France raised his sword slowly above the small boy. As the blade was plunged down, Austria let out a harrowing cry and raised a trembling arm towards the scene.
"HOLY ROME!" His desperate sound echoed around the dead battle field. Austria's head flopped forward into the mud, his body trembling. Spain still looked ahead, his eyes wet with tears. The black clouds above them, gave way and it began to rain.
2
"Miss Hungary!" Italy squealed happily, skipping into the kitchen. Hungary turned around and put down the cloth and dish in her hands.
"What is it?"
"Look what I've done! Look what I've done!" He ran up and tugged at the fringe of her dress.
"OK, OK! I'm coming!" she chuckled, as the little boy grabbed her hand and led her swiftly out of the kitchen.
Italy jumped up and pulled the door handle, revealing the room behind it. Holy Rome's room was sparkling with cleanliness; everything was perfectly arranged, not a thing out of place.
"I tidied up Holy Rome's room so it's nice for when he come's back!" Hungary smiled.
"Oh Italy, it looks wonderful!" Italy giggled with delight.
"Yay! That's happy! Come and see what else I did!" Italy clasped Hungary's hand again and took her inside the room. All the books were neatly stacked on the shelves on the wall. Hungary noticed a gap on the bottom shelf; an unnatural wide space between two books.
"Hey Italy, did you mean for there to be a big gap there?" She pointed to the space. Italy blinked and nodded. He ran over and splayed his tiny arms towards the gap.
"I'm saving this space for all the books Holy Rome will buy when he gets back! He said he would get lots of new stories and read them to me every night!"
"Oh! That sounds wonderful-"
"I made him this as well!" Italy bounded over to the bedside cabinet where a small pot stood, a big lid placed over the top.
"What's in there?" Italy proudly lifted the lid. Some tepid pasta sat inside.
"I made some pasta for Holy Rome, in case he was hungry when he comes back!"
"Um...maybe that's not-"
"Look at this too!" Italy pulled Hungary over to Holy Rome's bed. A row of floppy soft toys sat, tightly tucked up under the bed covers. "These are all my toys. They're here to keep his bed nice and warm for him." Hungary smiled sympathetically at the child as he rushed to the window. More toys lined the window-sill, overlooking the patio below. These ones were visibly older and still had some dust marks on them. "I found some of Holy Rome's old toys and made them all clean. They're keeping look out for when he comes back! Come here Miss Hungary, look, you can see for miles-so they'll be able to tell us when they see him coming!" Italy craned his neck and looked to Hungary, waiting for approval. "Do you think Holy Rome will like what I've done?" Hungary smiled warmly and knelt down before the child.
"I think he's going to love it, Italy." As she stood up again, Hungary suddenly noticed a few soldiers marching quickly towards the house. Oh no, she thought. A dark feeling crawled up her spine. She quickly turned to Italy. "Hey Italy, I have an idea. Why don't you make Holy Rome a special present?" Italy stared absently at the girl.
"But I did. I made him some pasta."
"I know, I know, but what about a present he can keep for a long time, like a hat? Or a scarf, or-"
"Ve~ I'll make him a hat! And he can wear it everywhere! And it will remind him of me!"
"Wonderful! Why don't you make a start?"
"Ci! Ci! I will! I'll start right away!" Italy tottered excitedly out of the room. Hungary watched him leave before heading for the door.
"Holy Rome is dead." The two soldiers bowed their heads deeply. Hungary froze for a moment before dropping to her knees, a sharp cry leaving her throat. She clapped a hand to her mouth, tears filling her eyes quickly. She shook her head, long golden locks tumbling from side to side. "Our allies weren't strong enough against France's and his opposition." Silence swept over the courtyard. Hungary continued to sob, doubled over. "But there may be a way to...bring him back." The girl raised her head, her cheeks flushed. "Come with us, Miss Hungary." One of the men extended his hand towards her. She took it and was pulled to her feet. "Is there anyone else in your house?"
"Yes. North Italy."
"Good, bring them along as well."
"No." Hungary piped up. "I couldn't do that. You don't know that child like I know her. She loved Holy Rome more than anything in the world. Seeing him...dead would just break her little heart. I'll go with you, but let me just say goodbye to Italy." The two men nodded in acknowledgement as Hungary rushed back inside the house.
"Italy?" Hungary called, scaling the stairs. She stopped to find the boy quietly sewing in Holy Rome's room, humming to himself. His back facing away from the door but the girl could tell, he was focused on making the hat. She looked around the room and found herself welling up again. The space he left for the books, the toys keeping his bed warm, the other toys keeping watch for his return, the pasta left for when he came back. At the slight sound of sobbing, Italy stopped and turned slowly over his shoulder. He stood up at the sight of Hungary crying and waddled over in distress.
"Oh no! Miss Hungary, what's the matter!" Italy clutched at her dress and looked up at her. She bit her lip, tears still falling down her face. Worried and confused, Italy began to well up. "I don't like it when you're sad! Please tell me what the matter is!" Hungary let out another sharp cry and fell to her knees, wrapping herself tightly around the small boy. "Stop crying..." Italy pleaded.
"I'm fine, Italy. It's just, I have to go for a little bit, OK? I won't be gone for long so just...be good and don't leave the house. Stay here, alright?" Italy nodded.
"Shall I finish my hat for Holy Rome?" Hungary drew herself away. She paused and looked at the sweet innocence and oblivion on the child's face.
"Yes. Finish the hat, Italy. I'm sure he's going to love it." She stopped herself from breaking into floods of tears and made to leave.
"Hey, Miss Hungary!" Italy squeaked. The girl turned back round. "Maybe, while you're gone, you'll see Holy Rome and you'll both come home together!" Hungary forced a smile.
"Hey maybe. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Well, I'd better go. Goodbye Italy."
"Ciao, Miss Hungary!" Italy flung himself around the girl's legs and hugged them tightly.
Italy rushed to the window sill, clutching his half finished hat, and balanced on his tiptoes to peer out over the courtyard. He watched Hungary and the two soldiers disappear off into the distance.
3
Over the brow of the hill, Hungary could see the remains of the battle field. She looked around in horror, as dead soldiers lay scattered across the plain like flowers. In the distance, a large group was huddled.
"Austria?" The man looked up, his reddened face battered with scars and mud.
"Hungary, you came?" he faltered in a broken voice. The girl stepped forward and wrapped herself around the injured man.
"Are you OK?"
"We're fine. I tried to...I tried to stop him but...but..." Austria trailed off and pulled himself away from Hungary. "He ran straight for France and his troops and all we could do was watch." As Austria's face crumpled, Spain turned around and placed a hand on his shoulder. Hungary noticed the bruises and cuts on his face too.
"Mr. Spain! You look awful!" He smiled weakly.
"I am okay. But I am not the one your sympathy should be directed towards." Spain stepped backwards, revealing Holy Rome's small body, lying lifelessly in a puddle of wet mud. A large stab wound had dried on his shirt. His pale face was beaten with fresh wounds and splattered with dirt. Hungary's lip wavered and she found herself crying again. She dropped to her knees beside him and extended a trembling arm towards the boy. Austria came and stood beside her.
"I am sorry it upsets you, Miss Hungary." a voice piped up from the other side of the group. The girl looked up. France stood, his blonde hair floating in front of his sickly pale face. His eyes shimmered with tears. Never had Hungary seen him cry before. "I killed Holy Rome." Hungary's fists clenched but she was too overcome with grief to be angry. "I-I never meant to kill him! I-I it's just...his empire, it was invading my country's borders! I was protecting myself! I don't want to be known as a murderer! I'm so sorry! I honesty didn't mean it to end like this!" Hungary felt the grief subside-anger began to ignite in her body. She suddenly let out a piercing cry and sprung to her feet, in attempt to lash out at France. Austria and Poland grabbed her arms and restrained her.
"Let me go!" she screamed. "He killed Holy Rome!"
"Hungary, stop!" Poland shouted. "You're fighting is useless! Holy Rome is dead, there is nothing we can do!" Hungary let out a heavy sigh and let herself fall forward, all her weight shifting on her arms, held by Austria and Poland. At that moment, Britain stepped forward.
"You're wrong. There is something we can do." Everyone turned to face him. "Why do you think all eight of us nations are gathered together? I have a plan, so you must listen carefully and follow exactly as I tell you. Now, the only way to save Holy Rome is to make him a new country entirely. And the way we do it is like this." Britain bent down and picked up the boy's sword. "He must have new blood. Each of you will cut this blade down your palm and let the blood fall onto the boy. Do I make myself clear? It will not be pleasant, I know, if there was another way, you'd be sure as hell I'd use it. But this is all we have, so we must act." The countries nodded.
"But Britain, you speak as if you will not be taking part yourself?"
"Correct. I'm not. I must use some magic to help the re-birth of the country. As the caster, I cannot be part of the 'spell'. Now here, Netherlands, you go first." Britain passed on the sword. Everyone watched in silence as the Netherlands opened his palm and held the blade above it for a moment before slicing it down the centre of his hand. With a slight twitch of the eye as the only sign of pain, the man stepped forward and opened his fingers out, blood dripping onto Holy Rome's face. Stepping back in place, he handed the sword onto Belgium, who stood on the other side of him. As she prepared herself to cut, Britain approached Hungary.
"Forgive me, Hungary, but do you think you could spare me that apron?" Hungary looked down at the white frilly cloth around her neck.
"Of course." She undid the apron and gave it to Britain. To her surprise, the man ripped the cloth into thin strips and handed one to the Netherlands, who wrapped it around his bleeding hand. Belgium performed her slice and repeated the steps Netherlands had just done. As she was given a strip of cloth, the sword was passed on to Switzerland, to Poland, to Spain, Austria to France. France dropped his blood onto Holy Rome's face-which was now splattered with dark pools. He paused for a moment before finally turning to Hungary, the last one left. France locked her gaze.
"I'm sorry." He smiled weakly and the girl was given the heavy silver blade. Breathing quickly, Hungary held out her palm and held the sword with a shaking hand. She glanced to the pathetic boy on the ground and became more confident. She made the incision and slowly stepped forward.
"Please come back, Holy Rome." she faltered under her breath, her blood falling onto the boy's face, mixing with everyone else's. Britain smiled and handed her the last strip of apron.
"Alright. I think that's everyone. Let it begin." Everyone stepped back as Britain approached the dead child. He bowed his head and began whispering inaudible, cryptic words. A sudden movement of wind began to catch Britain's fringe. A golden light began to surround the lifeless Holy Rome. The nations watched in awe as the boy was raised from the wet ground, his cape dripping with mud. All the donated blood began to absorb into his skin, disappearing from sight. The blinding light grew brighter and swallowed the child inside it. After a few moments, the light began to disappear and Holy Rome was gently placed back on the ground, wrapped only in a white muslin blanket. All his scars were gone. There was no dirt anywhere. Everyone looked on in awe. Britain smiled and raised his head.
"Say hello to Germany." The boy opened his eyes. They were the same as Holy Rome's; a deep blue that glimmered like the ocean, in the light. Hungary cupped a hand to her mouth and shook her head. The girl sprinted over and skidded to her knees, embracing the boy tightly.
"Miss Hungary...we may have brought him back to life but in his re-birth, this child is no longer the Holy Roman Empire. All of his past memories have left him. He will not remember you or anyone else." Hungary drew herself away and looked at the boy.
"But...Italy...she'll be heartbroken."
"What?"
"Italy. She's waiting for Holy Rome to return. She...loves him. If he doesn't remember her, it would just..." Hungary trailed off, not able to speak, for tears. "We can't let Italy know that Holy Rome is Germany. She can't know he died. She can't know he was reborn. It would be too much for her little heart to handle." Britain nodded sympathetically.
"Don't worry." He raised his head and spoke loudly to the rest of the group. "Right everybody, no one is to ever speak of this again. Do I make myself clear? Especially not in-front of Italy. In the case of any inquiries concerning the Holy Roman Empire, his whereabouts and circumstances are unknown, alright?" All the countries nodded. Hungary smiled.
"But Britain, what do we do with him?" Both looked to little Germany, who sat, clutching his white blanket, confused.
"Leave it to me, I'll take care of it. I'll find him a suitable place to stay. Perhaps I'll settle him with Prussia, he may be the right, strong influence for him." Hungary nodded and stood up. She took Britain's hands and locked gazes with him. Britain began to blush.
"Thank you." she smiled sincerely. "Thank you for all you've done." The man bowed his head and smiled.
4
Hungary and Austria approached the house, Austria leaning on the girl for support.
Upon reaching the top of the stairs, they found Italy with his back turned, looking out of the window. From where they stood, they could make out an object, tightly clutched in his little hand. The boy paused for a moment before slowly turning his head to the door. A small frown lined his disappointed face.
"Hello Miss Hungary. Hello Mr. Austria." he muttered quietly.
"Italy, what are you doing?"
"I'm waiting for Holy Rome. I was hoping you might have seen him on your trip." Austria locked his teeth together and glanced away for a moment.
"And what is that in your hand?" he struggled. Italy looked to the little knitted hat in his palm.
"It's a present for Holy Rome-I made him this hat." He smiled and proudly studied the gift. "Do you think he'll like it?"
"Yes." Austria forced a smile. "I'm sure he will."
"Yay, I'm happy." Italy turned round and hesitated, gripping the hat tighter, before looking back to his master. "Mr. Austria sir..."
"Yes, Italy?"
"Do you think it would be OK if I maybe took some time off while I wait for Holy Rome to come back?" Hungary and Austria exchanged glances.
"OK. You can have some time off." Italy's miserable face lit up and he ran over to the man, hugging his legs tightly. "Italy stop, you're creasing my trousers!" The boy stumbled back.
"I'm sorry." The child spun on his heel and skipped over to the window, placing the hat on the ledge beside him. Italy rested his head on his folded arms and sighed. "Holy Rome's pasta will be cold if he doesn't come home soon..."
The end
A/N: I know some of this isn't historically correct (i.e Britain's large contribution and use of magic in HRE's rebirth) but it was an interesting area in Hetalia I wanted to explore more. Hope you enjoyed! Any feedback is much appreciated :3