Disclaimer- I wish I owned Hetalia... But I don't.
Note-Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I REALLY REALLY appreciate it :D. As usual, historical notes will be at the bottom. Battles will take place. Instead of going through exact military strategies, the fights are more figurative for now so some historical inaccuracy may be present.
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Germany had spend the first part of the night squirming in bed. Even though the night was pleasant in temperature, the country quiet, the air dry, he felt uncomfortable in his skin. He tossed the covers aside, then grew too cold, under them he began to sweat. He peeled some layers of clothing off, but still he was hot and irritated. Burying his face in his hands he pleaded with himself to sleep. An ache was in his chest, a yearning. Germany slid from the bed, laying down wasn't helping so perhaps a cool drink would. He began down the hall when his feet stopped at Leos' room.
Peeking through the crack in the door he saw the boy was still up. Clinging to the stuffed lamb, he buried his face in it when he caught a glimpse of Germany. The door creaked as he slipped in and sat on his son's bed. The moon light illuminated Leos' platinum blonde hair, creating a hue of white around his head.
"What is wrong, why are you not asleep?" Germany asked,
"You're leaving tomorrow, aren't you?" He whimpered,
"I am," Germany answered. There was a pause between them, Leos peeked up from the lamb and stared at Germany's large hands.
"You have to go... right?" He asked, Germany nodded. Leos' eyes began to swell with tears. He wiped them off on his lamb and curled back up. Germany pulled the boy closer to him.
"Shhhhh, it's okay... I will be fine," He soothed, Leos shook his head.
"Papa shouldn't leave! Papa needs to be here!" He cried.
"I have to do whatever my boss orders... I am needed on the battlefield," Germany answered.
"No," Leos said, "Why? Why do you need to fight?"
"Don't fret over it, Leos..." Germany said, "Come on, I'll let you sleep with me tonight." He added as he picked the boy up under the armpits. He propped Leos against his shoulder and headed back down the hallway. Italy had rolled over and claimed more than his share of the bed. Casually shoving the Italian over, Germany took his spot back and held Leos against him. The boy still wept unto his father's chest.
"Shhhhhhhh, Leos, be calm. I will return," He said,
"B-but what if you don't?" He asked,
"I will, shhhhh, be strong," Germany whispered. After some minutes Leos had become calmer, clenching and unclenched Germany's shirt with his small hands. The discomfort and irritation that plagued Germany before, dissolved when his child was near. When he was sure Leos had fallen asleep he looked over to Italy. The gentle soul was sound asleep.
I wish he could teach me to be so at peace...
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Italy was already crying yet he hadn't spoken his farewell. Germany stood before him, his uniform in order, gun on his back, belt armed with all the essentials. Leos stood next to Italy, biting his lower lip to try and hold back his own tears.
"Germany, b-be careful, I pack your white flag and your brown boxers and-"
"Italy," Germany said, his hand came to his friend's cheek. His pale lips pressed a kiss on the side of his face and he patted Italy's shoulder.
"I'm counting on you..." He said, Italy's cries were nothing but gibberish. His emotions overpowering, Germany shoved them into the pit of his stomach before looking at his son.
"Be good," He said softly as he hugged him.
"I'll be strong Papa," He said. Germany looked around the foyer once last time. Taking in the little details of his home. The rings in the wood of the floors, the pale walls that met the simple arch molding at the top, the way the light from the kitchen pooled into the hall and tinted it yellow. Outside, the roar of one of the military cars growled in the road. Taking a deep breath he savored the scent of his home for a moment before turning and opening the door. The mild day rushed into the stuffy home and bathed him in light as he left.
When the car could no longer be heard Italy shut the door. Leaning against it, he hesitated to bring his hand from the knob. Blinking the last tears from his eyes, he straightened himself out.
"I should set up... It won't take him too long to get to the Rhineland..." Italy said. He walked past Leos who was frozen in place, staring at the door.
Italy looked into Germany's office. Set out for him was a map with small triangles on it. Blue representing his Italian back up, while the Green was German troops. Red circles pin pointed areas where the French army was mobilized. White X's showed the target area's for explosives. From the radio each troop called in their progression and Italy was ordered to move their pieces along and rely information to his own people. Flicking on the radio he tuned it to the proper wave and waited for someone to contact him.
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Germany sat across from his brother, who's vivid eyes stared at him from between his gloved fingers. To his left was Austria, who hadn't said a word nor showed any hint of contributing. Prussia pointed to a spot on the map on the table and nodded.
"From here we will head north, and take the city," He said,
"Agreed," Germany sighed. He glanced at Austria, who gave him a dirty look. To access some of the areas they needed to go south into Germany or, in older terms, into Austria. He had no choice, of course, but Austria didn't have to be pleasant about it. In fact, being so disgruntled was his only defense. Germany didn't hold it against him and instead focus back on his brother who had fastened his sword to his side.
"East, I don't think that sword will do you much good these days." He said,
"Oh, West... The greatest battles in history were won when the flesh of a man was sliced by the sword."
"And even more killed with a bead of lead. Take a gun," Germany order,
"I don't need one, I am so awesome I will kill with my looks." Prussia said with a smirk. Germany sighed. He hadn't been killed in the last battle, so he must have done something right. Prussia rested his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Do you know how long I seethed hatred and waited for this battle? We will not loose," He punctuated his last words and looked his brother in the eye.
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Germany stood out in front of his troops. The fields before them were peeking with flowers and young saplings. A storm was moving from the west, while to the east the sun was ducking behind the trees. There was no clear boundary at this point, but with a few steps forward Germany felt the aura change. He crossed in France. His gut told him to retreat, this was no place to be, but after a few steps into enemy territory he stood firm. He waved to the army to follow, the tanks roared forward, the men marching. This steady beat of machines and men is what Austria referred to as the death symphony.
There was a shot, shocking Germany back into reality. He had no clue where it had come from, his side or theirs. He crouched and his men immediately took cover and began firing. The tank's hatched sealed a the metal beast growled as their cannons too aim to the west. The missile fired and plunged itself into the forest. The cry of men followed the explosion, the forest burned.
"Take cover and move into the forest!" Germany ordered. The danger of his men in the open would cost him. The fell on their belly and moved through the grass. The tanks rolled ahead, continuing their assault. The booms vibrated Germany's chest and heart. He wondered briefly if his heart would stop from being battered around his chest so. He waited until the tanks were a good distance before squeezing the radio again.
"Advance behind the tanks," He said. The men obeyed, jogging stealthy behind the steal soldiers. Germany thought a moment.
Tanks can not navigate a forest like this... But beyond that is farms and then the city... They sent these troops to their death, confronting us like this. They knew we had tanks, planes, machines... Why are they starting like this? We have to clear a way for the tanks, these trees are too large to run over. That will take some time.
A pop and intense heat shot past Germany's head, shocking him from his thoughts. From the north stormed troops, an attempt to corner his army. Ducking down behind a vehicle, Germany brought his radio to his head again. The wail of bullets hitting the steel skin of his shield overpowered his shouts.
"Reserves, move in West! We are being attacked from the north! Advancing army turn your last squads around to pincher the enemy!" Germany clicked off and cocked his gun. Aiming over the front of the truck he fired.
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Italy sat at the radio, his fingers tapping out rushed messages. The influx of voices keep his other hand busy tuning the instrument. Occasionally his hand would leave the knob and push one of the triangles or circles.
French army from the North has been obliterated. Western troops retreating into the forest for cover. Move West, ground troops, Move north troops in route with vehicles, Move Southwest tanks. Italy pushed the pieces.
Italian troops move west in wake of the Germany army He sent. Another high pitched squeal of bullets and fire came through the radio.
German tanks clear of Southwest forest. Reinforcement from the French army has meet their advance. German transported troops are penetrating the North western front and gaining.
This is the Northwestern Advancing army, contact with the French army and deploying all troops. Request for aerial back u- The message cut off. Italy quickly tapped out another order.
Italian troops change direction to Northwest and back up German troops. All available air planes fly Northwestern and prepare to bomb any enemy tanks and fortification.
This is Northwestern Advancing, enemy tanks firing! Three platoons killed, one tank crippled. Send the tanks ahead!
The Southern front has broken through fortification and advancing on enemy territory.
This is Northwest Front! Enemy planes sp-aaaah- Italy froze in his seat. Static crackled from the radio. He tried to re tune it, but it hiss back. Italy flipped on his other one.
"This is Feliciano, relay station one please respond," He trembled,
"This is relay one,"
"Relay information on the status of the Northwestern advancing troops," He said. Pushing back in his chair Italy held his face.
"Germany, Germany please be okay..." He cried.
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Germany blinked, his vision blurred, the world around him bleed into a grey smear. There was a buzzing, dull and annoying. Only his own heart could be heard beating against his rib cage, all else was silent. He was on his back, the dirt powdering his pallid face. There was a wetness that his his forehead and ran down his temple and to his jaw. Another one, on the eye. Then again on his lips. He parted them and tasted the liquid. Water. The little droplets began to patter against the earth. Forcing his eyes to roll forward he struggled to focus. The grey blur became clear. It was the storm sky. Slowly his senses returned, he remembered he was on the western front. His hearing began to clear. In the distance there was gun fire. Snapping of trees echoed with the shrills of death. He breathed and wondered how long it had been since his last breath. Slowly, he shifted his weight over so he laid on his side and curled up. He felt not pain, yet, but he waited. He saw red on him, his uniform was torn but the pain never came. He heard a vibration in the ground, four steady beats.
"Wessstt!" The cry was faint, but gaining on him. He pulled himself up with a moan "Weessttttt!" It cried again. He looked over his shoulder to see a fast approaching object. The beat getting louder.
"Pa... Prussia?" His breathed. The objects skidded to a halt and Prussia jumped off, running to his brother.
"West, west, are you okay? Say something!" He grabbed hold of his brother' face.
"I... I think I'm fine," Germany answered. Prussia held up his hand,
"How many fingers?"
"Four," He answered,
"Where are you injured?" He asked looking over his brother, Germany ran a hand over his body, searching.
"I'm not... I think I was just knocked out for a bit," Germany said. Prussia helped him stand. The large man wobbled at first but quickly gained his balance. With a deep breath he looked around him.
The field and forest was leveled, nothing but ash, earth and blood. The storm mixed this into a slurry that drained into the thousands of foot prints heading to the west. Prussia folded his arms.
"What happened?" Germany asked,
"Your aerial forces met theirs and you where right under their dual. We won, of course, but the ground troops under them took extensive damage." Prussia explained. Germany was only now noticing the steel skeletons of plains rising from the ground. He turned to his brother,
"How are we doing now?"
"We made a lot of progress... Almost to Paris," Prussia smirked, "Unfortunately, our relay and communication stations are all down. Only radio is working but it will not reach beyond the battlefield. One of the stations was hit. It should be back up soon but because of that the Italian troops have held their position and refuse to advance." Prussia said. Germany cracked a smile,
"They did not flee?"
"No... You've trained that Italian pet of yours well," Prussia prodded. Germany shrugged and looked to the front. The fighting was barely visible.
"Oh, and our cars were destroyed. Riddled with bullet holes. Which is why is stole this from one of the neighboring farms." He pointed at a draughty built horse who was still harnessed with a yolk. "I've been scouting for enemies and trying to find your sorry ass. If you ever scare me like that again I will bring old fritz back from the grave and have him whoop you so hard!" Prussia scolded.
"When will replacement trucks come?"
"As soon as we can relay information I'll send the word out... Do you think you can fight? Or do you want to go back to the medic camp?" He asked. Germany felt for his gun on his back and then searched around for his helmet. He fastened the leather strap under his chin.
"If my people fight so do I," Germany said. Prussia mounted and pulled his brother up.
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Prussia laughed to himself. Surely being from proper stock, the art of being in the bitch seat of a horse would not be a difficult task. Bump on the head or not. His brother struggled to keep himself on the animal. The carnage was getting worse the deeper they went into France. Bodies not yet attended too were sprawled out in the mud. Some twitched while others were silent. Prussia turned away from the sight and focused on the mane of the horse instead.
"You okay brother?" Germany huffed as he clung to his lither sibling,
"You still don't see it? do you..." Prussia trailed.
"See what?" He asked,
"Nothing," Prussia's boots slammed against the barrel of the beast. The draught horse would not be much for speed, but its power would jolt Germany so that he needed to be silent.
The cries and gunfire grew louder. Germany prepared himself to dismounted, hoping he would do so gracefully enough to land on his feet. Prussia sat deep and nearly pulled the mouth out of the horse, it grinded to a halt flinging Germany off the side. His face hit the mud and encased it in its wet grasp. Prussia smirked,
"Though you would have better reflexes than that," He mocked, Germany wiped the mud from his face and glared at his brother. The smile had faded as the albino's eyes were glued to the battle field. His stare intensified, his mouth agape in horror.
"East?" Germany questioned, he looked to the front. It was no more bloody or cruel than any other. Men being sliced open and shot, fire spreading and consuming all life, horrible but not unusual for battle.
"Brother!" Germany snapped him back into reality.
"You don't see it do you?" Prussia asked, Germany cocked an eye brow. Narrowing his eyes the older sibling yanked the horse angrily around and beat his hind with his gloved hand. The horse took off and Germany was left without a parting word.
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Leos waited in the yard, watching the little dirt road. The helmet on his head obstructed his eyes so he had to raise his neck up to see down the road. The day was fair, not too warm or cold. The sun sneaked from cloud to cloud, the wind ruffling the fresh grass peeking from the brown flesh of the earth. Occasionally a woodland critter would jump into the open and scamper across the front yard. Leos sighed, taking his suspenders from his shoulders. It was warm enough to wear his shorts, but the suspenders did little but annoy his soft shoulders.
From inside he heard the heavy walking of boots, then the turn of the knob. Italy hovered over him, his brown eyes down cast and refused to look the boy in the face.
"Mr. Italy, whats wrong?" He asked,
"I lost contact with the troops," Ital whimpered, "The relay said the equipment on the field is too far damaged... The army has taken some severe hits... I can't get a hold of Germany," He said.
"But he's alright, right? Papa's fine," Leos insisted,
"Leos," Italy whimpered, "I don't know... And I can't help him... I promised him I would, I promised to be there and I'm not... I failed," Italy began to cry, "T-the one time he asked and I-I could do that o-one thing!" Italy let himself fall to his rump on the steps. Leos grabbed Italy's sleeve and shook him gently.
"Don't cry Mr. Italy, d-don't cry," Leos began to tear up. "There is no one else to help?" Leos asked.
"Japan is too busy with China... Russia is no ally... The other countries already lent support in the form of men... To replace that equipment would take days..." Italy explained.
"Papa can fix things! He must know that you can't contact him, he won't be mad. He'll be okay Mr. Italy," Leos declared though his sniffles. Italy pulled Leos into his lap.
"So determined... I wonder where you get that from..."
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Germany followed the tank tracks right into the heart of the battlefield. His vision tunneled unto targets for cover. His gun had the bayonet attached, glistening with the rain water. His bangs pricked against his eyes, his hot core ached against the cold nip of the rain on his skin. His feet pounded the earth until he came to the first shield. It was a broken truck, flipped over. Other men were firing from behind it, while others reloaded. He joined them, positioning himself so his gun hovered above the driver side. He took aim at the first man he saw in a foreign color. He shot again at yet another behind him. The recoil of the gun slammed against his shoulder like a hammer. From behind was a whistle that shot over head and plunged far unto enemy soil. An explosion rattled the ground and shook Germany to the earth. Composing himself, he repositioned only to notice that no enemy was in front.
Darting from the side he gained ground, running low and fast until the next 'shield'. He gauged his distance from the enemy who ran to meet the German army. He reached down for his radio and frantically patted himself. It was gone.
"Fuck," He spat as he looked around. He gave up and reloaded his gun. Taking aim over the twisted piece of metal and fired into the smoke. Others slowly came to his side, firing and working to clear the enemy before them. Quickly his eyes swept the area. He pulled a grenade from his belt and pulled the pin.
"Take cover!" He ordered as he threw the bomb. The little orb splattered against the mud, the French attempted to flee but before they could move it exploded.
"Move! Move!" He ordered. The men obeyed, pushing further into France. Some fell suddenly while other disappeared into the smoke. Germany waited, scoping out his next move. The gunfire was a ways away, but the entire field was open. No cover. He readied his gun and took off. His long legs carrying him as fast as they could. Halfway to the front, something grabbed his boot. Plummeting to the earth, he panicked and kicked it away.
"Long li... Live... Deu.. Du..." A mumble came from the mud. Germany crawled over and notice a mess of hair. He pulled the man from the soil. In the back ground a heavy four beat gait thundered toward him. The man opened his eyes and stared up at Germany. They were metallic, his hair pale, face of a child.
"L...Le... Leos?" Germany stammered,
"La... Long... Live... Fu.. Fuhr..." He whimpered and grabbed unto Germany, revealing his injury. His belly sliced opened and entrails had spilled out unto the land.
"Leos! Leos don't worry!" Germany shouted as he cupped the man's face. The beat grew louder in the background. Mud splattered against Germany and he was blinded. A gun went off in his ear. Jumping, Germany instinctively tried to flee. He stumbled to his feet and got hold of his gun.
Prussia sat on the horse, a hand gun pointed down. It's style that of a french army. Beneath it lay a body, bleeding from the head. Prussia's hand trembled and his breathed,
"That is what a gun is like?" He dismounted and tossed the weapon aside in the mud. He muttered something barely audible but Germany made out, "Deliver us from evil," Germany sunk to his knees and picked the man up. His face was no longer that of his son's but of the individual he was. A fair haired man with half open dark eyes, his youth evident form the lack of wear on his soft skin. He laid the corpse back down.
"So... You do see it... Don't you?" Prussia said,
"Wa... What is this? Am I crazy?" Germany asked,
"No... This is nor-" A blast cut Prussia off. The horse squealed and fell over on his side, thrashing. Prussia grabbed his brother and pulled him back. The rhythmic clang of bullets following them. Prussia shoved his brother behind a downed plane and ducked. Germany held his face, his memory flashing before him his son curled in his arms with his belly slit. Prussia shook him, but couldn't disturb him from his thoughts. He molested his brothers waist for a grenade and once finding one pulled the pin and flung it blindly unto the front. The explosion brought Germany back into reality.
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Leos rubbed his stomach and curled against Italy. His color had changed to a sickly green. Italy made him some tea to try and settle the boy's digestive upset but getting him to drink it was a small battle. Normally, Italy would sweeten it with some sugar and milk, but none had been left. Leos' face twisted as he tried to obey Italy and drink. He had no luck as he swallowed hard and pushed the little cup aside.
"Papa," Leos said, Italy moved from the couch and went to the radio in the corner. Flicking the knobs he tried to get a regular public station to deliver some news. A fuzzy voice crackled through and slowly became clear.
"Today, the father land successfully invaded it's long time enemy, France. The troops marched into Paris today, taking France. The country's north and west sides will be German occupied while the south and rump state shall fall under Italian control. Tens of thousands were wounded or killed in the battlefield. Their sacrifice shall not not be in vein for our Fuhre-" Italy clicked off the radio.
"We won?" Leos asked. Italy was silent, his mouth slightly parted.
"...We did," He said,
"Then Papa's okay!" Leos asked,
"...I don't know," Italy said covering his face. Please, Ludwig, be alive!
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Germany called his troops to attention. Their steps in perfect unison as they clicked and stood for orders. Germany paced the lines, but not with his usual vigor. His eyes were tired, flesh pale. A car rolled up and was instantly surrounded by others. Two men exited and were escorted to look the view of Paris. The Eiffel tower standing proudly against a grey sky, its sharp tip almost piercing the scaly. Though the soldier's bodies were straight, their eyes gravitated to the two men over looking the city. Hitler gazed over monuments, Italy's boss by his side. His feet tapped out a jig and he smiled to his friend who returned the gesture. Germany turned his back on the Fuhrer and marched away. Prussia had watched this and pursued his brother.
"Wait," He hissed under his breath, afraid to disturb the perpetual silence that plagued the area.
"How... How could you see him and shoot him in the head?" Germany growled,
"It wasn't Leos, it was your mind. You have to be willing to except the fact that the people are reflected in him. Sending your people to die is the same as sending him!" Prussia barked,
"The fuck it is," Germany spat, his shoulders stiffened as he increased his pace away.
"You'll get use to it brother..." Prussia said mournfully.
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Bitch Seat- a term for the back seat of a motorcycle.
Draught Horse (Draft horse)- Both German and French armies used draught horses in battle and on farms. Germans however had fewer draught horses in comparassion to their riding horses. France has a very large selection of Draught horses.
Italy was not originally involved in the fighting of France until June I believe.
R&R please :D, it helps me write ^^. The next chapter will be happier with Italy fluff cause he needs the love.