Author's Notes: From here, the writing becomes more disorganized than the previous chapters. It is intentional, but I still apologize if it bothers you. Also, Switzerland is no longer neutral.


The fall of Remuzzia was inevitable. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. Lovino only wished that he hadn't been the one to cause it.

He had been clumsy and it had cost him dearly. He had thought that he had ensured that the Helvetians wouldn't be able to follow his trail when he had set Emilie's body afloat in the stream where the currents would mask his trail; he had even made sure to take the most confusing path he could manage back to Remuzzia just to be certain. Still, they had managed to know that it had been him who had killed their princess.

They had found the dagger he had neglected to take back still clutched in her hands when they finally found her far from the place where he had murdered her. It was just a dagger with so many others of its kind in Tysk and it shouldn't have given him away. However, Ludwig, the source of all his current troubles, had managed to identify the craftsmanship of the handle and recognize it as the gift he had given to a Remuzzian prince so many Christmases ago.

Almost overnight, the banners of the Houses of Helvetia were raised and gathered against Remuzzia. The banners of the Houses of Tysk were also raised in aid of Helvetia, which had almost been their ally united through marriage. Still thirsty for the blood of those who had slain their king and slaughtered so many of their kinsmen, the Kingdom of Norden offered their arms to the Helvetians and marched with them, united in the common desire to bring about the fall of the House of Vargas of Remuzzia. Even the Provinces of Olanda, Fortaleza, Soufflure and Elysia now stood against them when they had once fought in the name of the Remuzzian Empire. It was only now that Lovino realized how truly small and fragile Remuzzia was without its vassal provinces. They were alone now, utterly friendless in the face of a revolution.

Heading their advance was Prince Basch, yearning to avenge his sister's death, cutting down all who stood in his path. Lovino could claim that he understood what the Helvetian prince felt; he knew that Emilie had been somebody's little sister when he killed her. If Feliciana had been the one who had been killed, he would certainly do the same and see that his sister's murderers suffer a fate much worse. "A sister for a sister, right?" Matthias's voice continued to echo in his mind.

Although Ludwig had said that he had given the dagger to the prince, they cried for the death of the queen, who they had believed had ordered the death of their beloved princess. They marched into Remuzzia, killing all who stood in their path and remained loyal to the House of Vargas. Lovino cursed himself for endangering Feliciana, but it did no good; no matter how much he berated himself, he could not take back the crime he had committed.

Confused and distressed, Feliciana tried to explain that Remuzzia had nothing to do with the murder of Princess Emilie, but they only took it as a feeble attempt to escape retribution. Lovino wanted to shield her from the world so she could remain pure and untouched, but he could not keep his own deeds from her, in the end. She learned from the whispers of the servants of the uprisings that he had tried so desperately to suppress, of the rebels and detractors who had met their ends through his axe and of the witnesses who had to be silenced to keep her safe. All too quickly, her eyes were opened to the happenings that had taken place without her knowledge.

The knowledge had been almost too much for her to bear and she watched, dull-eyed and with a broken smile adorning her lips. She watched as the kingdom her ancestors had worked so hard to build and she had tried so long to keep standing crumbled from within and without simultaneously. She watched as, one by one, the people who had once been loyal to her left to save their own lives or to join those who cried for her death. It was only the two of them now, without anybody to stand with them.

Feliciana had told him, over and over, that she did not hate him; she could never hate her older brother. He didn't understand how she couldn't hate him; even he hated himself. She was far too forgiving, her heart untouched by violence and deceit, even though the world around them was steeped in it.

The voices of those long dead echoed in his ears, their accusations filling the silence of the deserted palace. He heard the laughter of Feliciana's enemies who he had killed and the screams of the innocents whose only crimes had been being at the wrong place at the wrong time to witness his dark deeds. The final words of those who met their ends at the executioner's block continued to ring through his thoughts, Tiina's voice joining them and telling him he can't be saved. Even the voices of Mamma, Papa, Nonno and Zio Lars haunted him, disappointed of how he had turned out. The voices refused to leave him alone, accusing him of all his past misdeeds, and he thought that he may go mad, knowing that every word they said was true.

He knew that he couldn't look himself in the mirror, after all he had done, but when he did, he saw a face so much like a child's he knew so long ago. Years of famine had left him slim and lean despite the training he had undergone and his face remained childish, almost girlish, in appearance. Reaching out to touch his reflection, he began to see the similarities once more. They had the same brown hair, the same brown eyes, the same hair curls and the same soft faces; only those who knew them well would ever notice how much they differed. They were twins, imperfect mirrors of each other. He knew what had to be done.

Feliciana had looked at him without comprehension. "I do not understand," she said, as he buttoned his coat on her.

"I want you to wear my clothes and slip out of the palace," he explained, his voice soft. "Remember when we were young and you used to skip circles around me when we ran?"

Feliciana nodded, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

He enfolded her in his arms, memorizing how it felt to hold her before he had to let her go forever. "I want you to run," he said. "Run to the nearest dock and board a ship to Avalon. Look for Zia Françoise. She'll protect you. Avalon is powerful; not even this coalition could hope to stand against it."

"I do not understand," Feliciana repeated, pushing away from him, her eyes begging him for an answer.

"I want you to run," Lovino said, taking her back into his arms. "You need to get to Avalon. You'll be safe there."

Once more, Feliciana broke free of his embrace and looked up at him with questioning eyes. He couldn't help but notice that he must have looked the same when, years ago, Papa had told him that his place was to protect his sister at all costs. He would have smiled if his heart did not feel so heavy in his chest.

"I understand that part," Feliciana asked. "But what of you? What would you do?"

"I want you to run," he said once more, keeping his voice as steady as he could. "Don't stop until you board the ship and don't talk to anyone unless it's completely necessary."

"Why do you keep saying that?" Feliciana was now on the verge of tears as she grabbed her brother's shoulders. "What are you keeping from me?"

Lovino forced a smile on his face despite the tears that rolled down his cheeks. "They want you to die, sorellina," he said his voice cracking. "I can take your place. They would never notice. We're twins."

"But why?" Feliciana asked, her own tears falling profusely. "I won't let you! I won't let you die! You promised you will never leave me! Why are you leaving me now? I won't let you die! Not for me! I won't let you die!"

"Listen to me, sorellina," he said a little too harshly. "You have to understand that this is my place. I was born to protect you. I made a promise that I would give anything to keep you safe, even if it costs me my life." He no longer knew what to say, so he found himself mimicking the words of those who had died long ago. He forced himself to sound stern and angry, like a man who had made him afraid and obey using only words back when he had been young. "So just do as I tell you and run."

Feliciana shook her head repeatedly, just like he had done when Papa had told him to run and like Emil had done when he saw his father killed before his eyes. "You don't have to die," she sobbed. "You don't have to sacrifice anything for me. Both of us could run together."

Lovino sighed, the anger suddenly leaving his face. "They're outside right now. I can't fight them all off alone," he said. "And they'll close down all ports if they realize that you're gone. I can buy you time. As long as they think that you're here, you can escape."

"But why do you have to die for me?" Feliciana continued to protest.

Lovino cupped her face in his hands and she stopped talking.

"Remember when I told you everything would be alright, when we were hiding under the stairs?" he asked. "I failed you, then, because I was afraid." He looked away momentarily before turning back to gaze into her eyes. "I don't think that I could still promise you that everything would be alright, but I won't fail you again. I'm never going to fail you again." He stopped, the voices in his head getting too loud for him to remember what he was supposed to say next. "Just remember that I want you to smile always," he said, unable to recall what he had wanted to say. "I've become the villain and killed so many just so you could keep smiling. Don't let all of that go to waste. Just always keep smiling."

"I understand," Feliciana sobbed.

"Then, go," he told her, much harsher than he had intended, as he shoved her out the door towards the garden.

With a final look towards him, she ran as fast as she could, stumbling as she did. He yearned to run with her, just like they had done when they were children, but he knew they could never return to those days when the world had been beautiful and right. It had been so long ago when they were simply twins, not a queen and her loyal protector, that he had almost forgotten how it had been to simply be Lovino, the little boy who would do anything for his sister. He pushed aside all of his thoughts and went inside to await his fate.

His disguise was perfect. Nobody would have suspected that the ruffles and voluminous skirt of his gown hid an angular frame made tough from years of training and fighting, that the fine powder covered the scars that crisscrossed his body, that the silk gloves disguised the callused hands of the man who had killed so many, and that the ornate fan obscured the triumphant smirk that refused to leave his face. To anybody would have looked, he was the fragile queen whose blood they wished to see.

"So I find you all alone," Prince Basch had said when his men had stormed the palace. "And I thought that you'd at least have your brother."

"Let go of me!" Lovino screamed in a high-pitched voice, mimicking Feliciana's, when Basch grabbed his arm and he pretended to attempt to run away. "It's your fault he's dead. You and your men killed him."

"Then, we're even," Basch said, his voice low and his grip loosening. "But, you know the price you must pay. I cannot forgive you for what you've done to Lili."

Anger flaring up at the thought that it might have been Feliciana in his place, Lovino slapped the Helvetian prince much harder than his sister should have been capable of. He turned to run, like he knew Feliciana would have done, but tripped not even a few feet away. Biting back the curses he knew would never leave Feliciana's lips, he slapped away the hand that Basch held out to him.

"You killed my brother…" he said, making his voice sound strained. "But we didn't do anything. I had nothing to do with your sister's death."

Basch merely looked down at him and turned. "Why do you keep lying to yourself even when everyone can see through you?" he asked and Lovino feared that he may have been discovered. "Take her to her room and lock the door," he told his soldiers. "The execution will be tomorrow at sunrise."

Nobody had noticed that he was not Feliciana except for Ludwig. "So she did escape," the Tyskian prince said when he had come into the room.

"What's it to you, potato-eater?" Lovino snarled at him, his hand reaching for the axe he had hidden under the bed.

"I'm not going to tell them," Ludwig answered, perfectly calm despite Lovino's threatening tone. "I won't tell them she got away. You only want to keep her safe, I know."

"Then we understand each other," Lovino said and pulled out the axe from underneath the bed. "But how am I sure that you really won't tell?"

He held the weapon out, ready to swing at any moment. If he had to, he would kill Ludwig now; surely, it won't give him away if he made it seem as if he had done it in a moment of pure terror and had no idea how to actually fight. Ludwig simply stood and met his gaze.

"Because I love her too much to let her die," he replied.

Lovino grinned. "She was right to like you," he said. "But if you do anything to hurt her, my corpse will find you and I swear that I will kill you; it won't matter what you do to me."

"I see," Ludwig said, turning to leave. "I'll be sure to remember that."

"You're alright for a potato-lover," Lovino said with a grin.

Ludwig merely nodded and exited the room.

The moment the doors closed and the silence resumed, Lovino feared that the voices might return, but he was all alone. Not needing to fend off the accusing voices of the long dead, his thoughts immediately went to Feliciana. She was probably already at the nearest port, seeking passage on one of the ships set to sail for Avalon. He wished that he could be with her to protect her always, but he needed to die tomorrow if she was to live. She was safe and that was all that mattered to him.


More Author's Notes: In this chapter, Romano is basically saying altered versions of the lines of deceased characters in the story. My sister said he seemed to favour Norway among the Nordics when it came to mimicking their lines. Also, saying that he will always protect Italy and nothing else mattering had become sort of Romano's mantra to keep him going.