"I killed you once, you know."
Germany looks over at his partner, who had been reading in the bed beside him just a few moments ago. It had become something of a nighttime routine between the two of them to read in bed before they actually went to sleep. That is, if they weren't occupied by more carnal activities...
"Vas?" the taller blonde asked, unsure of what France was referring to.
"When you were a child," the Frenchman states again. "I killed you. I have wanted to tell you for some time. I had always hated you and it felt good in the moment, but I was filled with regret afterwards. I told little Italie myself out of guilt. I was sure that he would never forgive me. He loved you quite a bit at that time."
Ludwig had had his suspicions for some time about this topic. He knew the history of his people well, though he could not remember it himself. They had been part of the Holy Roman Empire before they were his, after all, but he himself could only remember waking up from a coma as the German Confederation. His brother had been shocked at his lack of memories at the time and had filled the gaps with whatever had been convenient to Prussia. He loved his brother, but he had always known that he did not know the whole truth.
"Your eyes have not changed one bit, mon cher," Francis went on. "They are the same eyes that looked up at me as watched the light go out of them. Sometimes... Sometimes when you look at me... I forget who I am and I am holding a sword over your body. I have nightmares."
That surprised Germany. He knew that his lover did not sleep well, but what nation did? He had often heard his western neighbor crying in his sleep because of old hurts from England and Spain, losing Canada and his colonies, or even because of flashbacks to Ludwig's own actions during World War II. He had never known this part, though.
"What kind of nightmares?" he asked, finally commenting.
"I used to dream about Italie hating me for killing you," he admitted. "But after we were together, I would dream that you would learn this and leave me for Italie again... I know it was another life, but still..."
"Italien is my oldest friend, Frankreich," Germany responded, putting his arm around France's shoulders. "But I could not feel those things for him. You have nothing to worry about. It was in another lifetime. I am not that person and I have never known you as anything but what you are today."
"Merci," France said softly, resting his head on his partner's shoulder.
"Sleep," the more eastern country suggested. "You'll feel better and I will be here when you wake up. I promise."
Francis nodded.
"J'taime," he said with a soft yawn, settling in to sleep.
"Ich liebe dich."