You might not be able to tell by looking at the her but yes much like every other nation, she has killed someone.
Though her nation is small, she had an army once.
But the battle field was not were it happened.
She has been invaded before.
But that was not when it happened.
If you ask a nation, they would tell you that to kill a human it would take a lot. Not because a human is durable, though they survive much. Because it is a life, and most nations have a deep reverence for life. A shame to snuff it out, to have that blood on your hands. Nations that go onto the battlefield face this challenge and moral crossroads much more often then those like herself. Sometimes though war and death find you. Force you to face them head on. Sometimes a nation will not go to battle but their people do. They deal with the feeling of explosions.
The pain of their people dying. It comes for them. No choices. So much in life is not a choice, so much of their lives is not a choice.
When she killed. She chose it.
...
Her birth was an accident, one that couldn't have been completely predicted upon. The nations know so little on their way of being, of the exact steps needed before one of them is born.
She was born in the castle supply room. Her first memory was peeking over a pile of sacks at the maid that came in.
As such she was sent to live in Austria's house. The family that gave her name and life was especially close to the government and it was decided that it was only proper someone such as Roderich teach her the ways of a nation. To understand that she was scared and confused would be almost beyond the average persons understanding. The tall black haired aloof man was her first beacon of understand and civility in the world. It was imparted to her that someday she would live with other people, she would be expect to act a role in society but if she needed to follow the older nation around like a duckling it was alright. This was her childhood, a nation didn't have much of one, he allowed this indulgence. In those first few months she would sit on the floor or in the corner during his meetings. She needed to keep him in sight.
Eventually she was able to distance herself. Physically more than emotionally. She made friends with the little girl that was made to clean and the older nation that had a pretty flower in her hair. There were more nations but some of them scared her and so she had a small circle of friends but so much would still come back to Austria. She loved him, maybe like a brother or maybe like a father, she hadn't much reference for things but she loved him. His nature made it hard to show such things but still, getting a kind word or a smile would mean the world to her in those days.
It would be in the fourth year of her life that it happened.
Death has a way of winding into your home. A place you thought was safe. She had fallen asleep in the library, knitting. Normally Hungary would have found her and taken her back to her room but Hungary was away in her home country that month. Perhaps it was fate, if Liechtenstein hadn't been in the library that night she wouldn't have heard the strange steps.
Everyone that was allowed in this wing of the mansion had a unique foot pattern. So aware of the routine of these people she was awoken to the sounds of a stranger.
It dragged every fourth step and thudded with a false lightness. Her first instinct was to think it was a new nation that had come to live with them. She didn't want to be rude. The mysterious person started to rattle random doors and then stopped and muttered things under their breath.
When she heard 'stupid freaks' she grasped her needles. There was unrest, she knew that much. Austria had enemies, some knew what Roderich was and some did not. Some only knew he was a very important political individual He was a figure head of the union. She was not good at predicting people, but the person outside in the hall was not here for anything nice.
Fear was squeezing her heart.
She wasn't strong, but she was quiet.
The well oiled door didn't squeak, only the subtle movement of air would have given it away. Her small feet barely touched the floor. In her hand she still held her knitting needles. Ahead of her, about to turn the corner was a tall figure of a man dressed in dark clothing.
The man wasn't well versed in the layout of the wing, he was still looking to each door.
Perhaps his goal wasn't Austria.
Maybe it was more vague. Anyone in the wing then?
She thought of the tiny Italy being subjected to whatever ill intent this looming figure had in mind.
This didn't settle right with her either.
She had come to find so many of these nations precious to her.
She tells herself not to jump to conclusions, not yet.
She almost runs into a table with a vase when she remembers how Austria leaves his door unlocked-should she have a nightmare she was always welcome to talk to him about it.
No
Not that.
She nearly runs. The doors are kept locked for the most part, some from the outside and some from the inside but Roderich was one to check the locks at night. The man isn't able to find a open door, with the exception of Hungary's but she's gone.
Closer and closer the figure approaches Austria's door.
No No not that not him no
The figure is at the door, tests the knob and when it gives a hand reaches inside his coat for a knife. It shines in the light of the moon from the hall window.
Father in heaven
please forgive me.
The next thing she's truly aware of is jumping on the mans legs and the needles go in and out and over and over she's crying.
Someone is shouting and she's being lifted off the floor. She's held in these arms and taken down the hall. There is shouting around her, things banging around.
She still crying and she can't seem to stop.
Hands are on her face and she bites her lip and can't open her eyes.
"Are you alright?" It's Austria's voice. Shouting is going on somewhere in the hall, she doesn't know where she is but he's here.
"Yes."
Hands flutter along her face and rustle her dress but when they try to take the needles away she yells.
"It's alright, please, it's alright you-"
She cries now, for the fact she has probably killed a human.
This twists in her stomach and she takes deep breaths. Gasps.
A hand rubs her back and finally the needles fall.
"Everything will be alright."
She can't say what she's thinking. That now she'll go to Hell, that she's tainted and the horrible thought that if she misunderstood, miss saw something. Right now everything is smashed in her mind and she just takes breaths and tries to disintegrate in Roderich's arms.
...
The would be assassin ended up dying, he had come with the intent to kill one of them. A investigation had been ordered about the whole thing and a thread of conspiracy theorists had been located. Dealt with.
She wasn't so normal after that. A nation can't simply be killed by one man, it would take the ideas of a thousand or a million to finish one of their kind off. But they could suffer. She tried to take comfort in the fact that she saved one of them from such an experience. But it was little solace for the end of a human life. Even one that was twisted.
Roderich spent a few nights rocking her, carrying her around like a baby. She needed to know he was alright. Safe. She was so scared to loose him. When she was with the others she would tag close to them. Little Italy was so confused but talked a lot so she didn't feel so bad, she was able to keep Italy happy with talk. When Hungary came back she was quickly subjected to the same sort of thing, only Hungary would let her be carried around on the older woman's back or on the hip.
She felt so silly. But she had her first taste of death. She wanted to be around life, and her loved ones.
The first time a nation kills, it changes them. Some are born of death, on the battle field. Some are peacefully realized. Death was not in Liechtenstein's design or make. She was ill equipped for it. As the months went on she was calming down.
Coming to terms with it.
The real turn was one day in which she realized that for her actions, if she should spend eternity in damnation, her family would be there. They had killed before as well. It was a flimsy consolation but seemed to be enough.
She could start to do things alone, and when the nights were too bad and she couldn't stop thinking horrid thoughts about it all, she would walk down the door on the end of the hall and crawl into his bed. It was the best they could do, this comfort for something that was unvoicable.