I'M ALIVE. This chapter would have been up two weeks ago, but I tragically lost my internet because of *insert excuse here* and I couldn't update. But it's back now, so enjoy lovely chapter two!

Chapter 2-

June 1942

"You're telling us your plans this time?" Germany asked incredulously- with just the barest hint of sarcasm.

Italy frowned, opting to look at his muddy, scuffed boots than to get involved in the argument brewing. Germany had been like this for a while, now. He yelled at Italy more than he used to, seemed to act harsher to the prisoners of war he took after battles. The battles were horrible- the already stained land seeming to flood in crimson. Italy took longer to pray after those battles and it only made Germany snap at him to put his beads in his pocket and hurry with the rest of the troops.

He didn't like this new, more cruel Germany.

But Japan calmly nodded, careful not to get on Germany's bad side. It seemed he too was exhausted from arguments amongst the Axis. "If Britain had intercepted message, he would have informed America immediately. This time, I attack Midway. If I secure the island, America will lose a valuable naval and air base. I will better prepare myself for another attack on Hawaii soon after. I am sure I will seize it successfully this time."

Germany sighed. "I suppose you're right. I'll head south and attack the Crimea and Sebastopol. Maybe we can get more supplies soon…. Italy, what are your plans?"

The brunette's head snapped up. "Wh… what?"

"Your attack plans. Do you have any?"

Italy's mouth went dry. I don't want to fight I don't want to fight I don't want to fight- "I… I could… try North Africa again. W-with Rommel, maybe we can win it this time. I've learned from my mistakes, Germany, prometto. Besides, we do have Alexandria because of last time, so…."

Germany nodded. "Good, good. Try reaching Tobruk. If we chase away the British, we'll gain a lot more supplies. And Italy? Please don't retreat this time. Oh, but before you go, could you try and quiet down Poland? Someone crazier than him should do the job just fine."

As Germany wearily turned to inform his troops about their newest plans, Japan and Italy saluted, both half-heartedly. Italy wasn't sure why, but ever since Japan had attacked Hawaii, he felt uncomfortable around him. It was crazy to be afraid of Japan- they were good friends!- but the fear had already settled in. "I'll see you later, I guess, Japan. Um, good luck with Midway," Italy said, stepping back in retreat.

"Why did you help Canada?"

That was why Italy felt so strange around Japan. He could practically feel Japan glaring holes into the back of his head. And even worse, he had probably already told Germany- that had to have been why he hired Rommel to fight in the Mediterranean instead of him. But, to his surprise, when Italy turned, Japan's face was honestly curious instead of angry. "I haven't told Germany," he said, answering Italy's unasked question. "I'm merely curious."

Clutching the rosary beads in his pocket, Italy muttered, "I failed Big Brother France. He… took care of me after my wars, and I…. I'm such a terrible brother! And when I saw Canada on the battlefield- he looks so much like France- I had to help him! I-I mean… well…."

"Perhaps I was wrong," Japan murmured to himself, turning to leave with a thoughtful expression on his face. He raised his hand in farewell, leaving Italy alone.

Wrong about what? Joining this war?

Well… at least Romano was supposed to fix pasta for dinner tonight. He gotten it from Spain, bless him, along with a crate of tomatoes. Italy was glad to have something decent to eat before he went to battle again. The last time Italy tried to invade North Africa, Britain had fought back hard. He wasn't very anxious to try again, but Germany was already frustrated enough over his loss against Russia and America joining the war.

Italy readjusted his dull tie and walked away himself, regrets weighing down hard. I never should have joined Germany. I could have been neutral, like Romano and Spain said I should have been, but then I never would have met Japan. I couldn't have saved Canada. But then again, maybe I could have helped France….

But there was no turning back now. Italy either fought or he died. Whether or not he wanted to, he was on the path to becoming like Grandpa Rome. Scarred, battered Grandpa Rome….

Italy swallowed hard.

((((()))))

"America!" Britain called out, stalking through the camp. "America! That lousy- there you are!"

America looked up as Britain marched towards him. "Uh, Britain's coming. I have to go. Bye, love you too, California." He quickly hung up before spinning around with a smile. "Yo, Britain! What's up?"

Britain scowled at America's oblivious happy-go-lucky attitude. Not that he wasn't ecstatic at finally gaining his help (which had already began showing improvement), but frankly Britain care for so much cheer so early in the morning nor after a battle. "Quit using the phone and hurry to the meeting. Russia says one of his spies learned more information on the Axis."

"About them- California just told me she saw Japan's troops starting to hang around Midway. I bet he's going to attack soon," America faithfully reported. He picked up his gun beside the phone and nodded, waving Britain to lead the way. If Japan attacks my Hawaii again, I swear I'm going to shoot off his face. "I have to leave soon to take care of him."

Britain tensed, but only said, "Be safe when you go." Apparently he had more faith in America that he'd come back to help than he himself actually had.

Just a few months and America was already at his wit's end. Germany was ruthless, tearing apart the battle field like it was child's play. Japan and China had been going at it again, and Italy, although on a more milder tone than his allies, had been causing trouble in the south. America had fought in as many battles as he could, already enough to stain his dreams with screaming faces and fire. He hadn't slept in nearly two days- but he wasn't about to let Britain know that.

When America and Britain entered the meeting, they were met with a mighty argument.

"…don't care he your 'little brother', Italy is on the opposing side! I fight Japan!"

"However, unlike Italy, Japan is a bloodthirsty monster who recently tried to attack a child."

Hawaii. France was talking about Hawaii. Almost seeming to sense the bad mood come over America, France and China paused to watch America and Britain sit down. Canada, for whatever reason with that heavy cast on his arm, was also present but ignored. It almost looked like he was… scared.

"Two men called me earlier and said they had found Uncle Canada. They said they were sending him home on one of their planes and not to attack it when it came."

"Who was it?"

"Italy and his brother Romano."

So that was why. "Japan is a jerk. Italy is a wimp. I think we should focus on Germany first and foremost. He's the one pulling all the strings," America said, putting his feet up on the table. Ignoring the dirty look Britain gave him- like heck he cared if these guys thought he was a slob; he was proud to be a slob!- he continued. "Besides, I already told you guys I'd handle Japan. We really don't need to bother with Italy until we take out Germany."

Canada seemed to melt with relief. France looked ready to jump across the table and hug him. But China was less than thrilled. "Italy going to attack North Africa soon! We need to stop him from tapping Britain troops for supplies! Germany tell him to go, and of course he listens!"

America shrugged. "So we'll send in ships through Gibraltar to cut him off straight through the Mediterranean."

"Italy has impressive navy fleet."

"So does Britain, and when you add one of my fleets, we can overpower him before he gets there."

America had proved his point. Smug, he pushed up his glasses and grinned. But of course, since that would have been way too easy, Russia finally spoke up, drawing attention to that annoyingly calm smile of his. "You all seem to be forgetting that Italy defeated Britain last year in capturing Alexandria. Although his brother did most of the work preparing the submarines, Italy used his navy and the sea itself as a way to sink Britain's fleet. Although I do agree that Germany is a formidable foe, Italy can be a force to be reckoned with when desperation calls."

Britain, seated beside America, had gone pale. Canada seemed more frightened and confused than ever, clutching Kumajiro tight. The polar bear looked up in concern but, to America's amazement, didn't bother to ask who Canada was or why he was probably squeezing him to death. Russia noticed Canada's sudden discomfort and turned his acid smile on him, kindly asking, "Do you need a glass of water, Canada?"

With attention now on Canada, he looked like a deer in headlights. "Um… n-no thank you…," he whispered, seeming to shrink down in his seat. America turned his annoyed scowl on Russia, obviously feeling victorious over making him embarrassed.

"Vous sentez bien, Canada?" France asked softly, brotherly concern lacing in his words.

"Oui," he replied, barely audible.

Britain cleared his throat. "Shall we get back to business, gentlemen? Russia, you said your spies had information for us. Could you kindly tell us what that information is?"

He nodded, calling for Lithuania. The brunette instantly popped up at Russia's side, carrying a manila envelope. "H-here sir," he said, handing Russia the envelope. Again, he gave the other allies a fearful glance- his gaze lingering on America and Canada longer than the rest. Canada gulped but America figured he was just comparing the two. It seemed impossible that shy, nearly-invisible Canada and loud, in-your-face America were brothers and people looked at them funny all the time because of it.

"Okay!" he started jovially. "These are Germany, Italy, and Japan's plans! Germany plans to attack the Crimean and Sebastopol peninsulas. Japan hopes to forcibly take America's naval bases at Midway, and Italy, with lack of better plans, has decided to take Tobruk, hoping to procure supplies from British troops to aid Germany. And after Germany left, Japan and Italy talked alone. Japan seemingly has doubts about something, as does Italy." As Russia scanned the next line, his grin seemed to grow wider, like a kid's at Christmas upon finding his presents. He seemed to consider reading it aloud, but shook his head. "And then they left, Italy very sad about something."

"Do you think they're planning to defect to our side?" America asked ecstatically.

Britain moaned into his hands.

"You an idiot," China muttered. "Well, you fight Japan, America. Britain, you and France hit-"

France held up a finger. China narrowed his eyes at being so rudely interrupted. "Ah, actually, I can't do that."

"Why not?" Britain demanded.

"Germany has me on a leash. How he came in and practically massacred my people, you know?" he spat out acid with every word, his knuckles going white. "There's not anything I can do with Germany controlling half my land. If I fight back, he's going to dissolve me."

Britain's glared softened, but just by a fraction. The last person France would want pity from would be Britain. "Then I will go alone, with that frog so useless. Take care of Midway, America, and Russia-"

"I have already found a way to weaken Germany," Russia said slowly. Everyone was shocked to hear the hesitation in his voice. It wasn't like Russia at all to second-guess himself. "I have found a fellow country with grievances against Germany eager to help our cause. However, being captured by Germany, he will be able to help us little."

"Who this?" China asked, genuinely intrigued.

Russia slightly frowned. "Poland."

((((()))))

"Polen, you have a visitor," the harsh German officer barked into the dark recesses of Germany's basement. His boss had recently turned the former storage room into a prison of sorts. The many countries Germany had overpowered were trapped here.

After giving Italy a lonely flashlight, the officer slammed the door behind him. Shaking out of both fear and cold, Italy gingerly walked down the hall to furthest end of the cells aligned together. Poland was the first country Germany took over, making him the first prisoner.

The blonde nation leaned up against the bars of his cell, looking at his dirty nails in disdain. "Um… Poland?" Italy quietly asked.

Poland turned, blinked in surprise, then demanded, "Like, why are you here? Aren't you, like, friends with Germany?"

At his accusation, angry eyes darted on his figure at once, mentally ripping him apart. "I-I…."

Scoffing at his frightened stutter, Poland's attention went back to his nails, pulling his legs up to his chest. In horror, Italy finally saw how emaciated Poland was. The blonde was almost half the size of Italy, a thin person by most standards, and his hand shook when Poland lifted it up. "Ugh, this nail's chipped again…. So, Germany's friend, what're you, like, doing down here? Come to take another piece of my land? 'Cause that's, like, totes uncool."

Italy's voice was almost a whisper. "I don't know why I'm here."

Poland's dull green eyes darted back to him. "W-well," Italy started, scratching the back of his head, "Germany just sent me down here."

"Probably to get you used to it down here," someone called. "That's what he did with me. 'You can join my side; oh, but could you check on the prisoners, first?' Next thing I know, I'm down here starving with everyone else."

Cold fear gripped Italy's heart. But… Germany is my friend. He… he wouldn't take over my land. We're the Axis! Us and Japan! We're… best friends….

"Hey, like, shut up," Poland snapped. "He's not a pawn like you. Someone with actual importance. So, like, who were you again?"

"Italy Veneziano," he answered, thankful that Poland had quieted the others. Doubt was already nestled in his mind, making him have to remind himself that Grandpa Rome had to go through the same things.

But then again… didn't Grandpa Rome's friend strike him down?

Germania. Grandpa's best friend. They got into a fight about something, and Grandpa lost. Germania dissolved him.

What was stopping Germany from doing the same to him? That stupid pinky promise they made at the beginning of the war? The treaties they and Japan signed, swearing the three of them to stick by each other and protect one another?

"Italy?"

That voice was one he recognized. Forgetting all about Poland and Germany for the time being, he nearly dropped his flashlight running to the tired voice, now sparked with hope. In one of the middle cells stood Hungary, one of his former charges.

Every shield he had built up broke down. Italy dropped to his knees, sobbing. "H-Hungry!"

"Shh, shh, Italy," she comforted, reaching her hand through the bars to comb through his hair. "It's alright. I'm alright."

"B-but, Germany l-locked you up!" he cried. "How could h-he? I t-told him to leave you a-alone!"

Hungary pursed her lips, like she used to do with Austria when he suggested she leave the fighting to him. Of course she always ignored him and helped with his wars anyway. "Italy. Look at me, a moment. Austria isn't here, is he?"

Italy shook his head. "He's living with Germany in his house."

"Prussia is with him, isn't he? Austria and Prussia are important people to you, aren't they?"

Italy only cried. "I'm not important like they are. I'm not useful enough to be allowed out. Germany is too afraid that I'll fight against him if I'm released. Which I would," she mused dryly, entertaining herself with the interesting thought of her smashing Germany's face in with a frying pan. "But I am useful enough not to dissolve. So even if I'm locked down here, I won't fade away."

"P-please don't leave," Italy whispered, his sobs dying down.

Hungary flinched, realized what she just said. She took Italy's shoulders, peering at him through strands of dirty, matted hair. "Italy. If you think that Germany is like-"

"I don't!" he burst, finally looking up to show her his tearing eyes. "Germany isn't a thing like Holy Roman Empire! Holy Roman Empire wouldn't have killed all these people! Holy Roman Empire wasn't a monster!"

"But you're still on Germany's side?"

Italy lowered his head once more. Every prisoner was listening intently now, their silence weighing down on Italy's shoulders. Their incredulous, pitying stares bore into his back, making him feel like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. In a sense, he was. Germany, Japan, and Italy, the Axis Powers, were seeking to take over the world.

Italy had come up with the Axis. "Let's have a name that everyone will fear!" I said. I was joking, of course. I hadn't known we'd get so carried away with ourselves. What started out as simple revenge escalated into full-blown world domination.

What did I get us into?

Hungary exhaled through her nose irritably. "Italy, you know Germany better than any of one of us in this room. Is that really the Germany you know?"

"No," he found himself saying. And the worst part was, he knew it was true.

Germany was strict and harsh, but on the inside warm and kind. He relied on manuals for anything he did. He liked building things, making things stronger. And, though he would never admit it, Germany liked to bake cakes. He had made Italy one for Christmas between the world wars. Italy could tell it was baked by a big ole softy with a soft spot for sugar.

This Germany was different. A completely different person. He put up with Italy all the same, but it was forced, like he had to keep reminding himself of the treaty they signed. He was cruel to those on the opposing side, cruel to Italy and Japan, and he didn't care.

What had made him this way? He wasn't nearly as vicious and commanding during the first world war, nor the period of depression that had followed. Italy remembered the days he and Germany would have to scavenge for food together, always sharing, always looking out for each other. Italy knew Germany was his best friend despite how Italy was nothing but trouble for him. At first Italy had assumed he was only using him to try and rebuild the mighty Roman Empire like Holy Rome had tried to do.

It made him wonder, all of a sudden, if Holy Rome had been using him all along. After all, even though they were the absolute best of friends for centuries, before Holy Roman Empire left he still asked Italy that fateful question: "Will you come with me and become the Roman Empire again?"

Italy had told him no, remembering the terrible scars Grandpa Rome had had, and Holy Rome had left him. He even planned to leave before Italy awoke. It was only thanks to Austria that Italy caught him before he left. I was fooling myself into thinking Holy Rome didn't want to hurt me. He didn't care about me!

That was the lie. Italy's chest also weighed down as new tears fell. Holy Rome did care. He always cared. Always, always, always. With every letter until the accursed day France came to tell Italy he was gone, Italy knew Holy Rome cared.

He cared more than Hungary and Austria. More than Romano. More than Grandpa Rome ever had.

Hungary's face softened and she resumed combing her hands through his hair. "You're a strong country, Italy. Maybe not in war, but in there," she said, pointing to his chest. "You know what's right. And I have faith that you'll be the one to win this war. Not Germany, not Japan, not the Allies. You."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Do what you think is best."

Italy had no idea what that was. Part of him wanted to stick with Germany until the end, because they had promised and Germany had saved his life, while another part of him wanted to bring the war to an abrupt halt and rebuild everything.

Which one was right? Which one would make things better?

Once again, Italy instinctively pulled out his rosary beads, shaking as he begged, not prayed. Hungary put her hands over his, closing her eyes in her own prayers.

"And deliver us from evil…."

((((()))))

November 1942

France no longer had control over himself. He was Germany's pawn, his major blow against the Allies' morale.

Sitting stiffly with his legs crossed, nose in the air in defiance, France sat on Germany's couch between Prussia, admiring one of his many swords in an attempt to avoid his former friend's eyes; and Austria, contentedly sipping at his tea.

Japan was ragged, but held up well in the face of Germany and his (albeit forced) allies. He had lost the battle of Midway against America and most of the skirmishes thereafter. Things were looking up for the young country in most of his battles. France knew as well as Britain that America would win their war for them. The spirited country was too stubborn to lose to the likes of the Axis.

The Asian was in the middle of a meeting with France's captor, trying to convince him to boost up their defenses in Africa.

France was torn when it came to Italy: in a brotherly way, he hated to think of the rest of the Allies ripping his land apart, but rationality told him to hope Italy would fall under Britain and America's sheer force and infallible will-power.

Of course, in war, France was forced to believe in rationality. "You know, you two," France started, "Italy is fine on his own. He held up fine with Napoleon, if I remember correctly. He was happy to become my Cisalpine Republic."

Austria shot him the dirtiest look he could while still acting as poised and proper as was possible. "Shut your mouth, France."

"Scared of me, even now?" France teased, cocking an eyebrow. "I may be beaten, but I'm not dissolved yet."

"I can easily change that."

The sound of a gun cocking wiped France's smirk off. He slowly turned to meet Germany. The blonde's unwavering expression told France he was serious about shooting him if he didn't kindly shut his mouth.

"West," Prussia snapped, looking up from his sword with a glare just as fierce.

Germany blinked, as if regaining control over himself, and put his gun away. "In any case, France, I believe it's time we put you to use in the war."

France paled. Germany smirked. "Africa. Against America and Britain. You and Italy will regain control of our territories in the south. After you destroy the British and American fleets, you will help us in our endeavors to take over Britain. Understood?"

Begrudgingly, France nodded. "Yes, sir," he said quietly rising up from his spot. "Shall I prepare the troops right away?"

"Japan," Germany called instead, "tell Italy to quit his praying and get ready for battle."

After Germany turned and walked off, France could have sworn he saw contempt in Japan's eyes. But he merely bowed in farewell to Prussia and Austria and left as he was told, disappearing down into the quiet dungeons below.

"His stupid boss," Prussia muttered under his breath. "Yo, Austria. Done playing tea party?"

The noble, to get on Prussia's impatient nerves, took a long, slow sip of his tea. "You know Germany wouldn't take nicely about you speaking of Adolf that way."

Hitler. His boss. Could that be what has Germany in a twist?

Nations were forced to follow their leader's directions, whether they liked it or not. It had been that way for centuries. But if Germany's boss was turning him into an atrocious, horrifying monster, something had to be done before he ended up that way forever. After all, that was what had happened to Russia. Even as a young country Russia spent his years tossed to and fro between terrible and righteous leaders, every one power hungry and cruel in their own right. If he wasn't so fearful, France would actually pity his former ally.

But he didn't have time to deal with Germany or Russia. He was due in Africa right away.

I'm sorry Britain, America. Even if it means Italy and I losing, I sincerely hope you crush us.

After a final thought, France paused and bowed his head in a quick prayer of his own. Jeanne. Watch over the two of us, please.

((((()))))

"A-America," gasped one of his shoulders, a young man no older than eighteen. The nation dropped to his side, eyes widening at his torn, bloody shirt. Charred skin was slowly covered by gushing blood from the hole in his side. "I… I hope we win."

The soldier, despite everything, gave him a smile. "You're… a great country. My family back home… they're hard at work. They're trying to end the Depression."

So, he was another of the soldiers whose family had sent him to war for America's sake, hoping, wishing, praying that this war would bring them out of the dust. America had seen plenty other soldiers like him, most of them having lied about their age, so very willing to give up their lives for America's sake.

Just like with the other soldiers, America felt tears spring to his bloodshot eyes. "Soldier, what's your name? I'll… I'll make sure you make it back home."

But already, laying still in America's arms, he was gone. Choking, America shut his eyes and gently laid him back on the ground, wincing as another nearby bomb shuddered the earth behind him.

When America turned back to his troops, he found a massacred platoon, their unseeing eyes staring at the darkened sky above them. The dead bodies of his children were scattered among the troops; Hawaii's small, round face splattered with the blood of her brothers and sisters. Britain and France were amongst the fallen as well. Canada and his bear. Russia. Italy. Romano. China and Japan, fallen at each other's side, like the brothers had been fighting on the same team instead of against each other. Prussia and Austria. Poland, Hungary, and the other countries fallen victim to Germany's reign of terror.

He was alone. All alone in this foreign land, surrounded by the dead bodies of his people.

The only other man left in the wake of the massacre was Germany himself, face contorted into something other than himself. The face of his boss, his generals, the terrifying scientists America had only heard of.

And at his feet lay America himself, rifle across his chest.

With a shudder, America awoke, spluttering a shout of mad terror.

But of course, like when he awoke from any other nightmare, America promptly shut his mouth and dropped his face in his shaking hands. That soldier was like so many of the others who had met their deaths while America was awake. Their soldiers dying when he was asleep, too. He felt it in the pit of his stomach every time one fell, making him feel sick and helpless knowing he had no way to help them.

They were his people. America was nothing without his people.

His children… all forty-eight of the states and Hawaii; they were what kept him going, kept him pressing forward with all his might.

His fellow countries were his family. Family that he loved, fought with, and sometimes hated.

"America?" a small, fearful voice called out across from his bunk.

Quickly wiping his stray tears, America silently jumped down and met Canada, his faithful little brother come to check on him. "Sorry," he apologized awkwardly, trying his best to dispel the horrifying image of his brother dead out of his mind.

Canada only sighed. When America thought all was said and done and Canada was assured America wasn't hurt, Canada surprised him with a hug.

Canada had always been smaller, weaker than America. People always forgot about Canada while everyone acknowledged loud and proud America. But America knew that his brother was, in a sense, bigger and stronger; someone that everyone should recognize. Because unlike America, Canada had a heart of gold, untainted by thoughts of expansion and war. Not that he knew how to stand up for himself, of course. Canada was the only country to ever beat America in a war. The War of 1812 had shown America so many things he never knew about his brother. And when Canada had burned down his capitol in 1814, America knew he'd never underestimate him again.

His thin, strong arms were always warm and comforting to America. Not that'd he really know, because America had always shoved Canada away, proclaiming that he didn't need a hug to feel better.

But he didn't push him away this time. "It's alright, America," Canada softly told him, slightly smiling when America returned the hug and buried his face in his shoulder. "It's alright."

And even though they both knew perfectly well that it wasn't, neither brother pushed away from each other.

((((()))))

"Protect the banks!" France shouted, running past his soldiers. "Don't let the Americans step foot on this soil!"

Italy and Romano were also prepping their troops, Romano doing most of the yelling while Italy helped check their equipment. The Italian brothers had kept their distance from France ever since Germany shipped them off to Africa. France didn't blame either of them, despite how it wounded his heart.

They were right not to trust him, because at the first chance he got, France was going to escape back to the Allies.

Suddenly, the first round of bombs hit. American planes flew over hit, spitting bullets into the arid ground.

And so the battle began.

((((()))))

"You lost Africa!" Germany burst. "Italy! You idiot! Do you know how many valuable supplies you cost us? Do you?"

Italy fought hard to keep his tears in check, especially when Germany grabbed his shoulders. "Stop your sniveling! We have to do something about this!"

Romano smacked Germany's hands away from Italy, pulling his brother behind him. "Maybe we wouldn't have lost if you hadn't trusted France! Honestly, you stupid German, what were you thinking, letting him join the battle? You're the one to blame, butthole, not Veneziano!"

"WEST! ROMANO!"

The two countries, poised to punch each other in the mouth, froze at the sound of an angry Prussia. The albino ran up and yanked their arms back down. "What the heck are you idiots doing!" he demanded. "This isn't the time to be fighting like bunch of two-year-olds! You are allies, like it or not. You agreed to this together. You already have five enemies! That's far too many for you two to be making enemies of one another! Look, West," Prussia started hotly, turning on his brother. "I've been in more wars than you are old. You have to lose some battles. That's how war goes. But you're getting too far in over your head! You've gotten your revenge! France is practically at your feet now, even if he did escape back to the Allies! That's what you wanted, isn't it? To make him pay for Versailles? To be recognized?"

"This isn't about that anymore!" Germany shot back. Prussia's glare only darkened.

Behind Romano, Italy was crying harder now.

"Then please tell me why we're still fighting, Germany."

The blonde nation was taken aback by Prussia calling him by name. For as long as he remembered, he had always been "West" to his brother. But Germany recovered quickly. "This is about us cleaning out Europe of pathetic countries like France. This is the war to end every war- don't you see? If we keep fighting, eventually we'll-"

Prussia, despite his earlier speech, reared back and punched him in the face. Germany stumbled back in shock, falling down.

A long while passed before anyone spoke. Germany's nose was bleeding, but he merely wiped it on his sleeve, already bloody from battles. The Italy brothers were deathly silent, holding their breaths, aghast at the scene before him.

Suddenly, with a deep, slow breath, Prussia spoke again, calmly. "Persia. The Roman Empire. Germania. The Byzantine Empire." He reached down his hand and hauled Germany up to his feet. "The Ottoman Empire. The Holy Roman Empire. You know about these guys, right? You know what they did?"

"…They were great. Strong."

"Yes, they were. And you know what all of them thought they were? Infallible. Every single one of them."

Italy flinched, squeezing Romano's hand hard.

Prussia sighed. "But they all fell. Why? Because they got in over their heads. They were too busy basking in how awesome and powerful and big they were that they didn't notice dissent and enemies creeping up on them until it was too late and they vanished. I don't want you to end up like them, West. You've done enough. You've won this war. If you call it quits now, you'll have loads of respect for your military tactics and your victories. But if you don't, you'll end up losing everything you worked hard for."

Germany sighed as well, but stood up straight, eyes narrowed in determination. "Prussia, I can't just stop the war here. I have to continue fighting. You'll see I was right after we win."

Wiping at his nose to try at stop the bleeding once more, Germany turned and left them, not caring a bit if he had just lost his allies. As far as he saw it, he would be better off without Italy's whining and Prussia's stubbornness. They would see. A few more years, a few more influential battles, and they would see how right he was.

He was right. Because, after all, if he wasn't, he wouldn't have made it this far, would he?

Well, seems I decided to continue! This story should be maybe four or five chapters, depending on how much I can cram into a chapter at a time. Most of it will be centered around Italy until the end with the bombing of Japan by America. There will be many parts in history passed up as well as parts screwed up. I won't be writing any of the Holocaust.

Again, I screwed up history to fit the story better. Hungary wasn't taken over by Germany until much later as well as a few more changes here and there that I'm too lazy to try and remember.

On a random note: if you all haven't watched Hetaoni, you seriously need to. SotetAG on Youtube, my friends. It's the greatest thing ever.