Germany groaned, reaching up and rubbing his pounding head gingerly. Son of a bitch, he thought hazily, what the hell happened? It feels like I fell asleep on the ground. He rolled onto his back, flinching slightly as pain shot through his spine. He felt someone prodding his face. "Prussia, I don't want any beer…" he mumbled weakly, swatting at the air. "Go away…"

'Prussia' made an annoyed squeaking noise and tapped an acorn against Germany's forehead.

Germany stiffened and opened his eyes, staring at the squirrel sitting on his face. He blinked. Then he started swearing and leapt to his feet, swatting wildly at his face. The squirrel jumped away and made a few more indignant squeaks before he ran off.

Germany swore again and looked around. He was standing in the middle of the woods, with the leaves overhead causing the dappled light on the ground to shift with the wind. Germany stared down at them blankly, wondering vaguely how he ended up asleep in a forest.

Then he noticed England lying sprawled unconscious across the ground nearby. And then he remembered.

Germany swore and walked over. "England, wake the hell up," he growled, bending down and roughly pulling England to his feet by the hair.

England yelped and stumbled forward, grabbing tightly onto Germany's arm. "B-Bloody hell," he stammered, "why is everyone spinning?"

Germany pushed him off and he fell back onto the ground with a loud thud. "Oww," he moaned. "What the hell was that for?" He looked around dizzily for a second. "Has my shirt always been blue…?" He mumbled. Then he rubbed his head. "Why are we in the woods?"

Germany glared at him. "You tell me," he hissed furiously. "What the hell did you do?"

England frowned and looked around. "Well, I'm not entirely sure," he replied weakly. "I might have drawn the circle wrong, and we teleported us somewhere." He struggled to his feet. "Give me a second, my phone has a GPS in it," he murmured, pulling his cell phone from his pocket.

Germany sighed unhappily. Great. No closer to learning anything important, they were lost in the woods, and England managed to prove him wrong. The only thing that would make it worse would be if Italy had teleported with them—

"G-Germany! Help me!"

Germany froze. He looked up, seeing a familiar Italian flailing helplessly from a tree, his shirt caught in a large twisting branch directly above Germany. "G-Germany!" He wailed weakly, looking close to tears.

Germany took a deep breath. "Best day ever…" he mumbled sarcastically, climbing up into the tree next to Italy. "How the hell did you even get in a tree?" He asked darkly.

"Ve~ I don't know," Italy mumbled as Germany untangled Italy's shirt from the tree. "I just woke up and I was up here…" he trailed off, looking down and blanching slightly. "W-We're really high up…" he stammered nervously.

Germany sighed and grabbed Italy's arm and started half carrying him out of the tree. "Come on," he muttered.

Italy smiled shyly at him. Then a thought crossed his mind. "Oh, Germany, I bought you some—" He froze. He looked down at his arms, realizing that there wasn't a bouquet in them anymore. He stood there for a second, not even noticing he was back on the ground. Then he laughed nervously. "U-Um one second…" he mumbled, walking away and looking frantically though the bushes.

Germany rolled his eyes. "Sure thing," he replied. He turned back toward England, who was angrily tapping the screen of his Smart-Phone. "So where are we?" Germany asked.

"Bloody phone doesn't have any service," England muttered unhappily, shaking the phone. "I can't get this damn GPS thing working. What the hell is the point of all these new phones and satellites if they can't bloody do anything?" He shoved the phone unhappily in his pocket. "Well, we can't have gone too far or else I would be close to passing out—" He fell forward and landed face first on the ground. "Bloody hell, stop spinning!"

Germany sighed. "Great…"

Italy walked back over from the bushes he'd been searching though. "Germany, can you help me? I-I dropped—"

"Italy now is not the time for any more of your harebrained schemes!" Germany snapped.

Italy flinched. "…I…s-sorry," he mumbled, slinking away miserably.

Germany sighed. "I'm sorry Italy," he said. "I just…" he trailed off as Italy disappeared in the bushes. He sighed and turned back toward England, grabbing his arm and helping him up. "Alright, get us back home as soon as you feel better."

England nodded weakly. "Right. Just give me a minute or two," he replied sleepily. He sat down against a tree and took a deep breath. "Oh, and by the way, you now owe me fifty Euros."

"…G…Germany…"

"Not now Italy," Germany muttered, turning back toward England. "And no I don't. The terms of the deal were that you helped me get more information using magic. So far, all you've accomplished is getting us lost and me attacked by a squirrel. I don't think either event constitutes as—"

"…Germany…!"

"Italy, not now," Germany snapped, starting to get annoyed.

England sighed. "Right. Well anyway, give me a minute, I need to redraw the circle and figure out what I drew wrong and figure out our coordinates and—"

"Germany!"

Germany sighed. "Italy, I'm busy! What do you—?" He turned and froze, noticing the scared look on Italy's face. "Italy, is something wrong?"

Italy nodded slightly, grabbing Germany's arm and tugging him toward the bushes. Germany hesitantly followed after him, glancing nervously toward England, who was walking after them with a slightly amused look. Finally Germany said, "Italy, just explain to me what the hell—"

Italy stopped walking, standing behind a clump of trees. He turned toward Germany. "Look," he whispered.

Germany frowned and peaked around the trees. His jaw dropped.

They'd come to a cleared area, a dirt road stretching past. And walking down the road was what appeared to be an entire army, stretching on in either direction. All of the soldiers were dressed in chain mail and shining armor, and were carrying large swords in sheathes around their waists.

Germany gaped at them. "M-Mein Gott…what on earth…?" He murmured.

England blinked a few times. "Uh…maybe there's a medieval fair somewhere nearby?" He suggested nervously.

Germany glared at him, then froze. He turned toward the army, then back toward England. Then he grabbed the front of England's shirt. "What…the…hell…did…you…do…" he growled.

England yelped. "W-What the hell are you talking—?" He stiffened, glancing over at the soldiers walking several hundred meters away. "Oh god…" England murmured, his eyes getting wide, "y-you don't think…that we're…" he trailed off.

"Ve~ that we're what?" Italy asked nervously, looking back and forth from Germany to England.

Germany turned toward him. "England was trying to find a way to let me see something that happened in the past."

Italy looked blankly at him. "Huh…?"

Germany sighed. "Come on, Italy, think hard."

Italy pursed his lips, thinking. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh I get it!" He turned and strode out of the woods and over to the soldiers. "Excuse me!" He called. "Do you know what day it is today?"

The soldiers passing by slowed down to stare at him. "Um, what?" One of the soldiers asked, looking slightly confused.

Germany and England both grabbed his throat and pulled him back. "You wanker! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?" England growled. "Haven't you ever seen any of those obnoxious movies America made? If you so much as kill a single butterfly we could end up being ruled by demon apes or some other ridiculous scenario!"

"Ve~ there aren't any butterflies…"

"It's a metaphor you bloody moron!" England hissed. "Messing with even a butterfly could create a time paradox and change the future. And guess what. That is a more than a f***ing butterfly."

Italy looked down. "Oh."

The soldiers watched them as they argued. Some looked bemused but most looked uncomfortable. One of the soldiers asked, "Why the hell are you dressed so weird?"

Italy looked up, then down at the outfit he was wearing. "It's not that weird of an outfit!" Italy protested.

Germany glared at him. "We're sorry to disturb you," he murmured. "Come on, let's get out of here." He tugged Italy's arm and started pulling him away.

Italy waved at the soldiers. "Ciao!" He called. Then he asked, "Wait, where are you guys going?"

Another soldier grinned. "We're the Army of the Holy Roman Empire!" He answered. "We're heading off to war!"

Germany felt Italy stiffen. "You're…" Italy trailed off, staring blankly at the soldier. "W…What…?"

Next to him Germany cringed. "Oh Gott…" he murmured. He turned and looked at Italy. "Italy, listen, we should head back—"

Italy pulled his arm away from Germany. Then he sprinted away, past all of the confused looking soldiers walking toward them, and down the dirt road.

Germany and England froze. Then they ran after him. "Italy!" They shouted. "Italy, stop! We need to leave! This is a bad idea! We need to get out of here! Italy!" Italy was starting to get farther away. Germany clenched his jaw and sprinted harder. He'd never seen Italy run this fast, not when they trained, not when he was getting pasta, not even when he was running away. No, he only ran this fast when he was running toward the Holy Roman Empire…

They ran for what must've been ten miles. Germany was starting to feel tired. England had collapsed several miles back, so now it was just Germany and Italy. Germany couldn't even tell if Italy was getting tired yet. Usually Italy would've stopped after a minute. He'd get tired after a second and start complaining about how tired he was, then lay down and start begging Germany to get him pasta.

Germany snapped out of his thoughts when Italy turned a bend in the road and skidded to a stop. Germany sprinted up next to him and doubled over, panting. "I-Italy, w-what the hell…do you think you're…doing?" He gasped. He looked up, then froze.

There was a large house in front of them. It was surrounded by a large stone wall, but Germany could see the roof of the house over the top. The last few soldiers were all streaming out from the large gate in the wall. Germany stared at it for a moment. Then he saw Italy run forward again. "Italy, wait!" He called. "Italy, you can't just—"

Italy ignored him and jumped at the wall. He grabbed the stones and started scaling the wall. Germany stared at him for a moment, stunned, then sighed. "Why the hell can't you be this motivated during training?" He asked, and started climbing up after him.

Italy reached the top and looked over the edge, staring at the people walking below. Germany reached the top only a little after Italy. Germany looked over at him for a second. He seemed tired, but for once hadn't made a single complaint. Germany shut his eyes. Germany would always do the same for Italy in a heartbeat. I guess that's what love is all about, he thought.

Germany turned and looked down at the ground. He looked closely at the people. They weren't too high up; he could still see all the people below them. He frowned, scanning the soldiers still walking around. Which one was Holy Roman Empire? Was he that person in the dented armor? Was he that guy twirling his spear like a baton? Was he the guy leaving? Was he—?

Then Germany saw him. A small boy, who looked like he couldn't be more than seven, walking toward them and talking with one of the soldiers. He was wearing a large dark colored hat, with blond sideburns and bright blue eyes. He was holding what looked like a painting in his arms. He looked like he was only three feet tall.

Germany stared at him. He had to admit, the resemblance was uncanny. If he didn't know any better, he would've thought he was a younger version of himself. Germany watched as a soldier looked over at the painting, and Holy Roman Empire started blushing and held it away, making some sort of protest that Germany could only guess at.

Germany rubbed his head. Holy Roman Empire was just a child. Germany hadn't really thought about that too much. He'd always imagined him closer to his age. Almost like a dark reflection of himself, one only there to prevent him from being with Italy. But he was just a little kid that died long before his time. For the first time since learning about the Holy Roman Empire, he looked at the kid with pity.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Italy staring stiffly at the boy he hadn't seen in several hundred years. It really wasn't fair. Not to any of them…

"Holy Rome!"

Germany looked up to see another kid running across the grass, a little girl carrying a broom that seemed almost bigger than she was. She was wearing a long green dress, a white apron, a white head scarf, and a big smile.

And there was a small hair curl protruding awkwardly from the side of her head.

Germany blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he turned toward Italy. "H-Hey Italy…" he said slowly.

Italy jumped slightly, like he'd forgotten that Germany had followed him. He looked over. "Oh, Germany…what's wrong?" He asked quietly, looking back toward Holy Roman Empire.

Germany gave a nervous cough. "J-Ja, well, I-I um…" he looked back over at the two children talking below them, staring at the dress. "I-Is that you?" He asked.

Italy nodded. "Yeah," he answered softly, without so much as looking over.

"You…you are a…a guy, right?" Germany managed to ask after a moment, his eyes still fixed blankly on the dress. "You…were…were…always a…guy…r…right…?"

Italy glanced over at him and giggled slightly. "Uh huh!" He answered. "That's Hungary's dress! She let me wear it when I was younger because she thought I looked adorable in it!" He smiled at Germany.

Germany rolled his eyes. "Of course she did," he answered dryly.

Italy looked slightly crestfallen. "You don't like it…?" He asked, looking upset.

"O-Oh, n-nein you look, uh, cute—" he stammered, then cringed. "I-I mean you look…err…you…" he mumbled incoherently and glanced away, feeling his face turning red again.

"Ve~ Germany is so nice!" Italy said, leaning against Germany, wrapping an arm around his. Germany stiffened and muttered a weak, "You're welcome," before turning away to hide his face.

"No, no don't worry about me, you bloody arseholes!" England sputtered angrily as he clambered up the wall next to the other two. His hair was dirty and his clothes were torn and muddy. "I'm perfectly fine! Just go ahead and bloody leave me on the side of the road! I don't mind in the least bit!"

Germany scowled at him. "England, now is really not the time for whatever—"

Italy stiffened, clenching his hands tightly around Germany's arm. Germany looked over. Italy was staring down at the people below them. Germany followed his field of vision, then froze.

Holy Roman Empire had taken Italy's broom. He said something softly. Germany squinted, trying to make out what he was saying. Then Holy Rome nervously leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Italy's.

Germany felt his stomach clenching. He swallowed and abruptly turned away. He could see Italy out of the corner of his eye staring at the two of them, his lower lip trembling ever so slightly. Next to him, he heard England murmur, "What the hell are we looking at?"

Holy Roman Empire turned and started walking away, smiling sadly, his face tinted a slight red. Germany could hear the younger Italy yelling goodbye, saying something about making chocolate for him when he got back. Germany couldn't help but look away again. Because Holy Rome wasn't coming back…

They watched as Holy Rome and the last several soldiers pass beneath them and begin heading off to a war most of them would never return from. Germany stared at them. Was this the war that Holy Rome was killed in?

He saw Italy start climbing down. Germany turned toward him, feeling confused for a moment. Then he understood. "W-Wait, Italy, don't!" He hissed, swiftly descending next to him. He landed on the ground and grabbed Italy's shoulder as he began walking toward the Holy Roman Empire.

Italy stood there, staring at the boy walking away from that spot forever. "Germany, I never see him again," he whispered. "I'll…"

Germany nodded slowly. "I know…" He trailed off, wishing desperately that he knew a way to comfort his friend. Instead, he turned toward England. "We probably should go home now," he said gruffly. "Uh, thank you for your help. Danke. I'll get your money to you when we get back."

England smirked. "Ha. Told you," he bragged, flipping open his book and bending down to begin redrawing the circle. "…well then, I can make it simpler now that we've already…" he mumbled a little to himself as he drew.

Germany sighed. Fifty Euros down the drain… He looked over at Italy, who was still staring down the path. The army was out of sight now. "Italy…" Germany said softly, grabbing Italy's shoulder, "…we're leaving now."

Italy stood there for a second. Then he turned, forcing a pained-looking smile. "I-I know…" he replied weakly. "Ve…"

Germany sighed. Even his 've'ing sounded strained. "Listen, Italy…"

"Finished!" England exclaimed. He turned toward the others. "Now be sure to step into the circle." Germany sighed and did as he was told, pulling Italy next to him. "Good!" England said. Then he turned back toward his book and started chanting.

Germany shut his eyes as the circle beneath him began glowing ominously yet again. It might exist, but he still really did not like magic at all. He quickly glanced at Italy again, to make sure he was alright.

Italy was still staring down the road, tears welling up in his eyes. Germany flinched and quickly turned away. There was another bright flash of light, and as they disappeared, Germany swore he heard "I'll always love you, Holy Rome…"


Sorry that took so long. And I know you all missed me...

Danke ~ thanks.

Italy was such a cute (cough cough feminine cough) child, wasn't he? Just adorable...

Btw that squirrel is named Steven. He's throughout many of my stories...just because...

See you guys soon!

And everyone, thanks for all the help with the different languages. I speak English and a little Spanish, so every helpful comment with about my botched up (insert language here) is greatly appreciated.