La'Keera: Thanks, sis. You won't get to see how well America and Russia know each other until I write the winter storm one. I'm not sure whether to try and work on it now or just wait until I finish this…
Mighty Agamemnon: Wow, thanks so much. Yeah, I didn't think about it being too hot for them. I guess because it isn't really hot in the East at the moment, I didn't think about it affecting the northerners. But it would because it isn't snowy and really cold. Thanks for pointing that out, I'll have to go back and fix up a few things.
The days started to pass by quickly with work and preparations for their next battle. Romano rarely had any time from his endless chores to spend a moment with Spain and the northerner was always grumpy when he saw him. Spain leaned back against the stack of hay and closed his eyes. All he could think of was how Romano looked when he returned from the east. It was that smile he always had when he was little and would run through the southern city. It was memories like that Spain always held close to him. It made him smile when he remembered the two brother's together and happy. But then that horrible memory always followed. Romano being carried away from all he knew. Spain was unable to stop it, despite his pleas; they still sent the northern elf away.
Spain always hated that one. The sad face of Romano and the tear-soaked face of Italy always left his heart aching. He would have loved to see the southern side of Romano, what the joyful and civilized lifestyle would have shaped the young man into. A respectable young man who would never be caught dead stealing or cursing. But would that be what Romano would turn into if he had not been taken? The northern blood that he embraced so much may have never been tamed. So Romano being sent away was probably for the best. But Spain didn't think the northern lifestyle was fair.
The people roamed the streets with no care. Not one ounce of happiness or respect. To be a southern walking with them was to be a rabbit among wolves. They all glared and snarled at him when he dared to leave the safety of the stables. Even when he tried to be proper to a young woman, he got insulted. They must have indeed hated the south. He could not help where he was born or what miserable fates they had to endure. Though pity did fill his heart, he was powerless to help them. They were all driven to savagery and poor living. Romano's fate and destiny always weighed heavy on his mind. The northerner didn't, out of anyone, deserve to suffer the trouble times.
Spain wished he could convince Romano to go down south with him. Show him that it was only fear that made the southerners keep northerners away. If shown kindness, then Spain's people would return the gesture. He was sure of it. But whether Northerners could actually perform an act of kindness was the real question. They all believed that it was survival of the fittest. Kill or be killed seemed to be their way of things. Spain looked out of the entrance to the stables. Romano was out in the streets, carrying pails of frozen water into a building. He supposed being engaged to the northerner was not as bad as he led on. As long as he would be free when he found Italy.
Though with every passing day, he started to fear for his dear Italy. He could not leave the village to find him and the chances of survival by himself were slim. If his betrothed died in the cold to find him, he'd never forgive himself. He wished he had awaken Italy and told him not to look for him if he never came back, to stay and know that he would return to him when he could. He should have told him the truth and how dearly he meant to him. There was no sun without his Italy and now he had to walk alone, following the dim light of the moon. Hoping for the sun to rise again.
"Happy thoughts?" Romano walked into the stables and sat down next to him. His new company shivered slightly and huddled up under his fur vest. Spain watched him for a moment, trying to read the northerner. Then, in defeat, he flopped back and tossed some straw to the side.
"No. Just about my poor Italy and his fate."
Romano growled and tossed a piece of coal across the stables and into the stall on the other side of them. His brown eyes were narrowed into a cold glare and the corners of his mouth curved down slightly. The thought of Italy's possible death must have been on Romano's mind as well. The northerner had been quiet about it and seemed to try and change the subject when it was brought up. He never seemed to look for Italy or ask people if they had seen. But surely Romano would wish his brother to be found.
"Of course you are, you always think about Italy. It is no shock that you are always depressed looking." Romano threw another rock and huffed up. His collar poking up against his cheek while his arms were crossed tightly and his whole body seemed to stiffen.
"Should I not be worried? He is my betrothed and I will find him. I know he isn't dead." Spain narrowed his eyes slightly at the northerner and crossed his arms tightly. "Do you even still love your brother? He is out there and you don't seem to even try to find him. What if he is in this village and has been claimed? What then, huh?"
Romano turned away from him before he stood and glared at the entrance of the stables. The wind gusted through and Romano's red hair danced in the breeze. Was the north elf as cold as the frozen snow? Every bit of sorrow and tears seemed to vanish not long after he discovered his brother was missing. But surely Romano still felt love for his dear brother, he may have just been too proud to admit it. Love seemed to be an emotion all northerners deemed 'pointless'.
"What a stupid thing to ask, of course I love my brother. He is my only family left. But maybe if you weren't so caught up in thinking about him than you'd see that no matter his fate we can't do anything. I am tired of being reminded every day. Every minute I try to find something else to think about, but everything in my damn life is terrible." Romano glared toward the people out in the streets and a small growl could be heard from him. Spain pulled himself up and watched the northerner with slight surprise. His brows furrowed and his body stood stiff against the cold snow that carried along gracefully. Everything seemed to be calm and quiet, as if the world had stop in a single moment. Romano looked back at him with fiery brown eyes and frowned at him.
"You cannot blame me for asking. You haven't even tried to find him."
Romano glared at him and walked back over before he grabbed a basket of coal and lifted it up against his hip. "You haven't been following me, so how do you know I haven't looked? I can't work while in doubt of my brother's life. I have just accepted the fact I'll probably never see him again and pray he is alive and safe. I'm sorry if I don't have time to cry, but there is a war going on." The northerner lugged the basket out and disappeared into the crowd of people. Stubborn elf.
Spain blew out his breath before he stood and wrapped the black fur coat around himself. The stalls and the stable itself were messy and smelled of horse manure. The blizzard started to die down and he could see the snow-covered land through the frost covered windows. Italy was out there and he had to find him. No matter what Romano had said, no matter the doubt that followed. He'd hold his Italy once again. The day past with storms and heavy snow. People in the streets became dark figures that walked in the powdered mist. It soon became dark and the wind that blew in the stables was colder and felt like it bit at his bare ears. Spain huddled up in the hay against Shadow and pet the large beast. Romano came in later, covered in snow and glaring at the wall. Spain felt like he'd jump out of his skin when the northerner sat down next to him and snuggled his cold nose against his bare neck.
"Ahh," Spain said before he moved away a little at the sudden cold that pressed against his side. Romano, despite Spain's protests, pulled him back and held on tightly. He wanted to push the northerner away but stopped when he remembered all the times Romano had helped him keep warm. Spain held his companion close and rubbed his side as he shivered and huddled up in the fur. His dirty face nested against his shirt while his eyes were closed. Spain looked his company over before he reached up and stroked the smudged cheek. Romano was a strong-minded young man, but despite his pride, tears still slipped down the side of his face. Spain's heart started to ache at the sight of the crying elf. Perhaps he had been too hard on him before. Every time he thought about the north, their coldness and savage-like behavior seemed to vanish when he looked at the young man. It wasn't the south in him that made him civil. It was just who he was.
"Romano, I'm sorry. I never meant to doubt your love for Italy. Forgive me?" Spain whispered and looked down in the northerner's brown eyes. He felt a small smile spread across his face at the annoyed face that stared up at him. He started to doubt he'd get forgiveness.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just let me sleep and stop staring at me." Romano laid his head on his shoulder with his face turned down and covered by the coat. Spain wrapped the young man up and tucked the cover around his back and held him close. Every warm breath blown on his neck reminded him of the summer days in his home. The feel of the sun on his back and the touch of his love's hand on his own as they walked through the palace garden. He'd bring both brothers to the peaceful land, as he promised their grandfather before his passing. Romano gripped tighter to him and pressed his face against his neck while small mumbles followed. He was cute when he didn't complain and glare.
Spain tried to drift off and think of all the things that could bore him. But everything led to his bedmate, who slept soundly against his left side. He had to fight the north. But every time he thought to slip away, the sight of Romano dead in the snow stopped him. He couldn't stand to be the death of the young elf, no matter what side they each stood on. The northerner had to be protected, though that meant facing his own kind in battle. Was it worth the risk? To be banished as a traitor and forever forbidden to see Italy.
All that had to be done was end the war and prevent innocent people's horrible deaths. He would think about his fate afterward. Loud crashing and metal pounding metal echoed through the quiet town and the whistle of the wind surrounded them inside the open building. The cracked windows rattled and some doors to empty stalls hit the wood posts. Horses neighed and Shadow jumped slightly and looked toward the doorway. Footsteps were heard in the stables as the horses whined and stomped on the rock floor. Spain held the northerner close when a tall westerner stood in front of their stall. The darkness hid his face and he remained a dark figure. His long cloak whipped in the hard breeze and the black hood covered his face where only the tip of his nose could be seen against the moon light. The man continued walking and soon rode out on a black northern horse.
Spain shook his head and finally fell asleep. The crashes of morning work always woke him up, but he didn't feel like moving. Cursing and loud rattles filled up the long building. Spain groaned and peeked out from under his covers and squinted at the light. Romano tried to drag a large crate to the entrance but seemed to making little progress. He grunted and groaned as he tried to push or pull it forward. Spain smiled slightly and forced himself up out of the warm hay bed and to the northerner. "Do you need help?"
"I'm perfectly fine on my own," he said between grunts and pushed the crate with all he had. Pride always seemed to be a bad quality. Spain gently pushed the younger man away and pushed the box. It was a lot larger than the others and probably weighted more than a hundred pounds. He groaned at the lack of movement and felt the urge to kick it, but a broken toe was not worth it. The northerner grabbed the edge of the crate and tugged on it with a look of determination on his face.
"Why don't you just move them into smaller crates?" Spain picked up a piece of coal and glanced around the stalls and paused at the tall black horse in a stall next to a giant north horse. Perhaps he just imagined the person last night or perhaps they just took a short ride out in the wild blizzard. He shrugged it off and turned back to the northerner who managed to get the box three feet from its original spot. He walked to help the stubborn elf and managed to slowly get it out of the stables.
-X-
The snow fell down like pouring rain. Italy stared out at it as Itzo stood on his hind legs behind him while his head rested on his shoulder. Everything seemed quiet and unwelcoming as the battle against the south drew near. Germany rarely left the house and when he did it was to bring food or when some solider called him. He seemed to be of high rank around the village. He looked back over at the tall blonde, who sat at the table and wrote on some paper. His cheek was still red from where Italy slapped him when he woke up with the northerner in his bed. Perhaps he had over reacted, since both were dressed. But every time the northerner stood near him, his heart beat started to quicken. The man was stronger and larger than him, he could easily win against him.
Ever since the burning, Germany had seemed to be more gentle and only spoke when spoken too. Italy carefully shoved the wolf off his shoulder and walked to the table. The northerner's pale blue eyes stare down at the paper and not once glanced at him coming. Italy watched him carefully and put his hand over his companion's work. Germany looked up at him with slight surprise, his eyebrows lifted upward. "Germany. Why are you so nice to me? Is it because Spain is…Spain is…missing?"
The northerner watched him curiously before he rested his hands on his knees under the table and looked down at the papers. "I treat you how I think you should be treated. Whether Spain is alive or dead, this is how I'd treat you." He pulled the papers out from under his hand. His eyes searched for where he left off with a frown upon his stained face. "You are an elf like I and therefore should be treated like one, no matter where you are from."
"So I guess we are still engaged than?" Italy turned back to the bed and watched as the wolf jumped on it and made himself comfortable in the middle of the bed. The cold draft sent chills down his spine as he wrapped his arms around himself to keep warm.
"No. I believe that ended when you refused. You hang on to the memory of your betrothed. It would be disrespectful to claim you when your heart belongs to another. Even if he is dead."
Italy closed his tear-filled eyes and tried to block out the memory of that day, the body in the flames that stared at him. He wished to erase the image of that person, to put a new face on him. But it had to Spain. Though he fought it, he could not take it anymore. He was trapped in a land he did not wish to be in with people who would violate him if they could. The long days that he had been there he wished to be back in his home, back in the arms of his beloved Spain. Italy knew in his heart Spain would want him to move on, but he couldn't. Not after the love they shared, the kisses he still felt against his lips. Every inch of his body still carried the feel of his beloved. He didn't wish anyone to overwrite it, to replace it.
"Italy?" Germany's hand was soon placed on his shoulder and Italy realized he was on his knees next to the broken table. The hard rock floor under him was uncomfortable and his knees felt as if he fell down on them without realizing. The northerner picked him up with his legs over one arm and his head rested against his shoulder. Tears filled Italy's eyes and his vision blurred, but he could still see the concerned face of his company. Germany shifted him in his arms and held him like a child might be carried, his weight resting mostly on the man's hip. Italy bit his lip as the northerner lifted his dirty hand up and wiped away the tears on his cheek. "Do not cry."
"Spain is not dead," Italy spoke shakily and gripped onto Germany's fur vest. He felt his body tremble as the hand slide down the side of his face to his neck. The thumb stroking his jaw and chin softly. Italy felt his heart stop as the blue eyes stared at him with some compassion.
"He is a lucky man to have such a loyal and dedicated lover." The northerner carried him to the bed before he gently set him down and kneeled by the bed. Ever since Germany had saved him that one day, Italy had always mixed him in with the other northerners but he had since then proven to be better than any of the elves in the frozen village. He had always showed him kindness and Italy knew he had been rude to him. He put his hands on either side of the man's large head and pulled him closer to press a kiss against his dirty forehead. He closed his eyes and wished he would vanish from the cold house and see Spain again. Just to tell him that he would always love him.
"Thank you, Germany." Italy pulled back to see the elf's face and paused when he stared up at him, completely stunned looking. Almost speechless. "Why do you wish to marry me? Is it just to protect me from your people?"
"Well, we did just meet only a few weeks ago…" Germany looked off to the side and rested his hands on either side of Italy's legs as he slowly started to stand.
Italy quickly placed his hands on the northerner's shoulders to hold him down and stared at his face with worry. He felt his heart sink into his chest when he looked at the man's face, but anymore he couldn't tell if it was just pain or something else. Something more powerful. Something that gave him hope. "That is not an answer."
"I don't know. I have a feeling you'll be trouble for me later, I constantly worry that you'll try to escape and someone hurts you. But despite that, I find myself drawn to you. Probably your warm atmosphere. I haven't had any since my parents died. It makes me feel like an elf instead of a monster."
Italy watched him and slowly slid his hands down to his own knees and watched him go back to the table. Everything felt like the world stopped just for him to decide what to do. Let go of the man he had loved his whole life forever and give himself to a man who needed him, who saw him as something he needed to be good. Or hold out for his beloved Spain and wait forever until he finally found him and use the northerner's generosity to keep himself self and sound. Itzo stared at him and wagged his tail happily as if to tell him to choose Germany. When he looked over at the northerner he continued his work and read whatever was written on the paper. Could he really just forget his love for Spain and chance a marriage of unhappiness? He knew he could not, but he didn't wish to waste his life away, it wasn't what Spain would have wanted. A decision had to be made.
"Germany. If Spain turned out to be alive and he wanted me back, would you let me go?" Italy slowly made his way to Germany, his gut felt like it was twisted in a thousand knots and the heart he once thought to be shattered beat quickly and felt as if it'd fly out of his chest. Germany laughed quietly and told him he would. Italy was scared to go by words and promises, but he had little left to lose. If Spain really was dead, than he'd never see him again. If he lived…He'd just run away with him and know Spain would defeat Germany in a fight for him. "Then…you can marry me. But, you have to promise not to treat me differently or you'll never see me again. So don't try to take any advantages because we are married."
The northerner looked up at him then back at his work. He didn't seem as excited as Italy thought he would be. After he set the quill down and stood, Germany looked down at him and put his hands on his upper arms. Italy wondered if he should be scared. Germany looked his face over before he leaned down toward him. Italy quickly closed his eyes and put his hands on the northerner's chest to push him away but paused when he felt his lips press against Italy's forehead and then pull away. "Then you will stay here?"
"Yes," Italy whispered and looked down at the black rock floor. Everything started to spin a bit. He was terrified of what he was about to get into and feared that once he was tied down to the north elf, he'd show a different side, his real northern side. Germany left shortly after and didn't come back until night fall. Italy nestled deep into the straw bed and snuggled against Itzo. The wolf had seemed to bond with him and slept on his side of the bed instead of Germany's. It got a remark from the northerner and it seemed his now new betrothed did not like it. Germany sat down at the desk and rested his head on the table. Italy gripped the covers with some fear and glanced down at the sleeping wolf. "Germany? You…you can sleep here."
"You won't slap me again?" Italy heard Germany ask with some sarcasm, but he seemed serious for the most part. Italy wanted to laugh a bit, but bit back his tongue and nodded. He stiffened slightly when he felt the north elf enter the bed and wrap his arms around his waist to hold him close. It was nice once he got use to it and trusted the northerner. He hoped that if his beloved Spain was truly dead, that he may find peace with the northerner.
-X-
Morning painted the sky with orange as the sun started to come up. Austria stared down at his grand city and prayed it'd fare better the east one, though he doubted it. The north ruler was not like any other or so he was told. His soldiers all cried out for war and to kill the ruler Russia. While his fiancée pleaded him to spare him. That was why they agreed for marriage after all. But it seemed that the freedom of his people wasn't the only reason Russia wished to kill them. Austria looked back into his room at the letter that lay on his desk. He didn't want to open it, since it was from someone in the northlands, but he had to see what they wished. He took it and headed down to the throne room where his confidants would be. Spain had vanished again, no doubt to find Italy and Norway never returned from the trip. China was found by the east and was now resting from a terrible sickness and frostbite.
Ukraine sat in the chair next to the throne, her face was blank and her eyes wandered off toward the far left wall. It was going to be a dull marriage. He walked to his throne and sat down before he ripped open the letter. It seemed that someone wished to betray the north and wanted to aid Austria in killing Russia. But the mystery person could not until they knew for certain that Russia would die from the battle. Austria glanced at his fiancée and frowned. He could not seek help from her. The letter was unsigned and did not have much written on it. Out of anyone, he would have guessed it to be one of the pervious ruler's sons. Seeking their right to be crowned, no doubt.
"Do you plan to attack my brother?" Ukraine looked up at him and gripped the arm of her chair. She looked desperate and would probably do anything to save her brother, but Austria had to think of his people. The death of Russia was best for all, though it pained him to hurt Ukraine after agreeing to spare her brother. He had to go back on his word.
"No. I will wait until he comes here. If he wishes for war, than he will have to face the warm weather here. He may regret it after discovering just how hot it is compared to his mountain."
"Hmm, yes. It is rather hot here." Ukraine rubbed the back of her neck and tried to cool off with her hand fan. "My brother is not a bad man."
"Say that to my dead men in the eastern lands and the grand glass castle. I guess since you didn't see what he did, you can still say he is not a 'bad man'," America said from across the room. He sat in a chair next to his general France and his little brother, Canada. America rubbed his healed forehead. Austria had heard that the castle was frozen over. It was impossible, but no one seemed to wish to explain how it happened. He looked back down at the letter and stuck it in his jacket pocket. He'd just keep it to himself until Ukraine had left. He did not wish to distress her more than necessary.
He watched as Ukraine tried to defend her brother against the angry easterners. Someone had suggested marrying Ukraine before defeating Russia to keep her there, but Austria was not sure if he wanted to be married to Ukraine. Let alone marry her even though he planned to break his promise. He started to wonder if he should have even agreed to something he was not sure he could keep. He'd kill Russia for his people in a heartbeat and he could tell that Ukraine loved her brother very much, that she would kill Austria in a heartbeat if she felt it could save her brother.
Austria watched America as he sat quietly in the corner and listened to France and Ukraine fight about Russia. It seemed whenever the name was mentioned, the east ruler flinched slightly and rubbed his jaw. But his eyes seemed to hide something. A dark secret.
I'm the queen of Clift-hangers! Anyway, I hope this is good. I haven't been feeling well, so that is why it is kinda taken me a while to post this.