Chapter 1
Slowly, he felt himself fade away, like the gradual transparency of a picture faded by time and wear. Breathing labored, each breath a painful intake of stale air, blue eyes stared up at a gray sky. The screams of the soldiers, the piercing crack of bullets being fired, the sickening sound of flesh being hacked cruelly by swords, the vile stench of blood that thickened the air into a putrid fog-all of it became distant echoes, a static that buzzed quietly, surreal. His tiny body felt heavy, like a rock sinking, slowly suspended in the murky water, to its final resting place at the bottom of the ocean that churned thickly and yet did not.
He was dying and he knew it. And, like the dying man, he no longer felt fear of Death's gentle hold. In his heart was instead a deep chasm of regret, something common in the minds of those not long for their final slumber.
Even now, as his senses failed him-hearing, touch, taste, smell, sight-, even as the warped lullaby of war was softly sung to him, even as all came to fail him-his organs, his heart, his mind, his memory-, there was one singular thing still in his feeble grasp.
His fading body, heart, memory and soul still held a single image yet, and it was the only thing that was sharp, that was tangible in this sea of foggy clarity and murky certainty. Vivid was his recollection of the warmth of his beloved, her gentility, her laugh, her smile. The cute way she ran from him when chased, and yet chased him when he, in turn, fled. That sweet little blush, that odd little curl, the endearing nervousness. The endless depths of caring brown eyes.
The love he held for her that could never by him be forgotten.
And he would forever regret the unintentional lie in the form of a promise. He would regret the tears he knew would be shed, the sadness, the useless waiting and bittersweet hope of his beloved until he came back for her as promised, until she was finally told that he could never come back.
Because it is the fate of all nations, big or small, mighty or weak, known or unknown, to one day disappear. To one day be forgotten.
And he'll always regret never saying it, regret never having the courage to.
"Ich liebe dich, Italien..."
And all was darkness.
A/N: Mein Gott...I feel evil ;A;