Hey look, another chapter...and it's slightly longer~ Sorry for the delay in posting it. While I was editing, I noticed that chapters 2 and 3 had this awkward gap in-between and made the pacing and overall transition feel really rushed. So, I decided to write another chapter to clear it up. Hope you guys like it :)

Also, I'd like to give a HUGE thanks to Mighty Agamemnon for giving me some much needed history lessons, which in turn helped a great deal with this chapter! So thank you very much :D And thank you to those who reviewed, favorited, and/or alerted my story! It makes for one happy fanfic writer ^^

Life just wasn't fair.

That was literally all Romano could think of as the carriage rambled on the dusty trail leading into Austria. Scattered about within the cushioned interior were a few bags holding some of his things—the rest were tied together in the back. Being grasped tightly in his hands was the chunk of silver that Spain had given him; the Italian was holding the rock so firmly that his knuckles were turning white from the lack of proper blood flow.

He tried not to think of Spain, he tried not to think of how his caretaker…former caretaker looked so utterly defeated, guilty, and weak as he helped Romano with his bags. Lovino hadn't wanted to go, but he had no choice. Spain's people wanted that French Bourbon Philip of Anjou as heir to the Spanish throne, yet in order for it to be so, Spain had to give up many of his colonies to appease bastard countries like Austria, Prussia (some friend…), Portugal (family comes first, my ass), and Britain since they wanted Archduke Charles instead. Romano couldn't understand why they didn't just mind their own damn business and didn't particularly give a damn if the root of this whole stupid thing was just about a petty power struggle.

So basically, if Philip of Anjou was in, then Romano was out.

The Italian absolutely loathed the idea of going to Austria's place and actually preferred the idea of staying with Spain for the rest of his life.

Not that he wants to, of course, it's just that if he had to choose…he'd rather deal with Spain's stupidity than Austria's. Hell, at least he was used to Spain. Besides, Austria sounded like a dick from Veneziano's letters.

Seeing his younger brother again was a bitter-sweet concept that Romano had yet to wrap his mind around, too busy trying to comprehend that he was most likely never going to live with Spain again; he lamented…uh, he means celebrated the thought.

Hours earlier, Romano and Spain had said their good-byes, and the Spaniard had promised that he would do whatever it takes to get him back. Things were looking fairly bleak for the other country so Lovino doubted it. Nevertheless, it hurt when Antonio had given him a long-lasting final hug, and the Italian swore he saw tears glistening behind his eyes.

Romano didn't bother crying as the carriage hustled him away. He was a young teenager just barely entering the stages of puberty; essentially, he was a man, and men didn't cry like a bunch of pansies, they sucked it up. Besides, why would he need to cry anyways? Crying meant that he was sad and that he was already missing the tomato bastard…which he wasn't! Jeez, the only reason he got choked up as he left was because some dirt had gotten into his eyes! Damn that dusty road!

The Southern portion of Italy was jarred from his musings when the carriage stopped and pulled up at a rather impressive-looking mansion, no doubt belonging to Austria. Almost immediately, a couple of servants rushed up to start collecting his bags and two opened the carriage doors for him to exit. Romano raised an eyebrow as he got out, shoved the piece of silver into his pocket, and surveyed the property.

First and foremost, the place was huge, just about as big as Spain's even (not thinking about that jerk…). From what Romano could tell, there were about four floors and a front yard and back yard. The walls were painted a pearl-white, the roof was sturdy with burgundy shingles, and the doors were made from polished rosewood. The nice curtains hanging at the windows indicated that the interior was just as extravagant as the exterior.

As far as Romano was concerned, Austria had a damn nice house, so why did he want even more power and wealth?

Greedy son of a bitch…

"Fratello~!" Romano barely had enough time to turn at the sound of that high-pitched, cheerful shout, and he yelped when he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug, his arms being pinned and his back being crushed by a pair of thin yet surprisingly strong arms.

Lovino emitted a strangled noise when the air was gasped out of him. As he tried to regain himself, Feliciano was happily babbling out a greeting; the older twin barely caught his brother saying something about how he missed him so much and how thrilled he was that his beloved fratello was going to stay with him.

Before North Italy could fully lose himself in listing out the things that he wanted to show him, Romano managed to pry the younger teen off of him and snarled, "Get off me, jerk! I don't need some damn welcoming committee!"

Italy's smile fell and his expression grew dismal. "But fratello, I really, really, really wanted to welcome you because it's been so long since I've seen you and even though the letters we send to each other are nice, they're not as nice as hugging you in person and oh Romano, I've missed you so much!" And just like that, his smile was back even brighter than before. "Ve~ I can't wait to give you a tour! You're going to love it here!" With that being said, Veneziano grabbed onto his older brother's sleeve and started dragging him towards the mansion.

Romano grumbled unintelligibly before deciding to just go with it, assuming that it would be easier. Sometime while Feliciano was pointing out random rooms and objects (all of which Lovino could care less for and said as much), Hungary made an appearance and greeted the new arrival. "Hello there, Romano! Welcome! It's so good to see you! You've grown up into such a handsome young man! It's unbelievable!"

The older Italian couldn't help but give her a gruff yet otherwise cordial smile. "Yeah, uh, thanks Miss Hungary."

The woman's smile brightened, and she eagerly clasped his hands. "Oh, you're such a gentleman, but there's no need for any of that 'Miss' stuff; you can just call me Hungary or Elizabeta~" Her cheerful, friendly beam managed to put Romano more at ease, and he found himself grateful for her presence.

As if sensing this, Hungary gently placed a hand on his back and nudged him ahead. "Now come, let's go find Austria so he can say hello as well!" She then glanced over at Italy. "Do you happen to know where he is, dear?"

Feliciano zealously bobbed his head. "Ve~ I think I saw him playing the piano! You should hear him play, fratello! Austria's really good!"

Lovino snorted doubtfully, scowled, and muttered, "We'll see about that." Regardless, he let Italy and Hungary lead him down a few hallways before he began to hear the melodious, serene sound of a piano.

Soon, the three stopped at a room and peeked in through the open door as silently as they could. Inside was a rather large, spacious room with nothing more than two couches, a small table, two large windows, a bookcase pressed against the wall, and a sleek, ebony grand piano, Playing on the instrument was Austria who had an expression of deep reverence and solemn passion while his eyes were closed and his fingers were gracefully travelling across the piano keys.

Italy and Hungary automatically became hushed with awe as they watched him play. Romano regarded him with an annoyed frown. Dammit, he was actually pretty good; the Italian wanted to hate Austria for essentially removing him from Spain's place (no, he's not pissed that he left—he's pissed that he's here instead…), yet hearing Roderich play so magnificently gave him one less thing to hate the other man for. At least if the Austrian played horribly, then Romano could mock and insult him for it.

They all listened for a while until the song was over. Then Austria exhaled and turned to the other nations, indicating that he had known they were there the entire time. He allowed Hungary and Italy to shower him with applause (teenaged Romano stubbornly kept his arms folded) before saying, "Thank you for not interrupting. Now, is there something you all need?"

"Ve~ Austria! My fratello is here!" Italy jubilantly exclaimed as he grabbed Romano's arm and enthusiastically shook him. "He finally came and I'm just so happy that he did so I started showing him around and then Miss Hungary joined and then we decided to go looking for you and then we found you playing the piano so beautifully and now that you're done, you can say 'hi' to my brother!"

"Cut that out, jerk!" Lovino snapped as he wrenched his arm away. "And calm down before you have a seizure or something! Dio!"

Austria raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Ah yes, I can clearly see that Romano has arrived. About time too, we've been waiting all day. Spain probably had you lolly-gagging to purposely spite me. He should know that I earned you fair and square."

Romano instantly bristled with anger and snarled, "Okay, let's get one thing straight, bastard: you don't own me! I'm not some prize that you and the other jackasses can just try and win to prove whose balls are bigger! I'm a nation too, goddammit, and I sure as hell am not your property!"

Roderich wasn't the least bit deterred by his temper and calmly responded, "Actually, you essentially are since I did gain custody of you." Lovino let out a warning growl that was promptly ignored. "Also, you and I should get some things straight as well: one, while you're here, you are under my command so you are to follow any orders I issue out; two, you are to watch your mouth around here, I simply refuse to hear any vulgarities in my house; three, you're not really a nation, you're a colony; and lastly, don't forget that Spain gave you up so that that unfit French Bourbon Philip of Anjou could have the throne. He knew what was at stake and yet he chose power over you."

…Well now that stung. With each and every word the Austrian spoke, Lovino grew angrier and hated the man just a little bit more. Though the last two things were true (begrudgingly so), the way Austria said them with such contempt and superiority made Romano want to punch him in the face. And the nerve of him to make demands of him and to treat him like an object! That bastard!

The southern portion of Italy did his best to let his anger consume any hurt he felt and tried even harder to ignore the electrifying jolt of betrayal and anguish he experienced as he realized that Spain basically did choose that Philip guy over him, knowing fully well that he would lose his colony regardless. That stupid tomato bastard probably wanted to get rid of me…

Romano forced himself back to reality when Hungary spoke up, "Austria! How could you say such things?!" She frowned at the bespectacled country as her eyes swirled with displeasure, disappointment, and disapproval. "That's not very kind of you to say! There's no need for you to be disrespectful like that!"

Roderich kept a blank face as he remarked, "And yet, are any of them any less true?" Elizabeta stiffened while a look of shock crossed her face, and then she flushed. The Austrian shook his head. "Hungary, you and I both know that Romano needs to know exactly why he's here and I need to establish the rules around here. I don't know what Spain had him do, but I doubt they taught the boy any discipline. Besides, he needs a stern talking to."

A distressed, fretful Italy looked anxiously between the three nations. "B-but Austria-"

"But nothing, Italy." He then glanced back at Romano and continued adding fuel to the fire. "You might as well get used to it because the way I see it, you'll be my colony for an innumerable amount of time, possibly even forever. During that time, I expect you to behave yourself. Even before Spain had tried to trade you for your brother, I was and still am fully aware of how…incompetent and negligent you tend to be." He completely disregarded how red with fury Romano was turning. "Although I hope that you have grown out of it, I shouldn't hold my breath. Just to warn you, if you break something or if you neglect to do as you're told, there will be consequences. Understood?"

Lovino was clenching his fists so hard that he was surprised his nails haven't pierced his skin yet. He felt his face burning a bright crimson, and he distantly thought that Spain would've commented on how cute it was and how it made him look like a tomato. It physically hurt to think that he wouldn't be hearing that anymore (uh…it hurt with how much of a relief it was not to hear Spain coo at him for looking like a tomato anymore…that made sense, right?). "Fuck you, you insensitive bastard." His voice was unnervingly calm and steady regardless of the boiling rage he was feeling.

Roderich wrinkled his nose with distaste. "What did I just say about vulgarities? I specifically-"

"Yeah well, I don't particularly give a damn about you or your opinions, bastard! Just because I have to stay with stupid you doesn't mean I have to listen!"

"Actually-"

"Shut up! I don't need to hear any more of your bullshit! You should just take that crap and spew it to someone who cares!"

Austria gave a longsuffering sigh, exasperated. "You ought to really take after your brother. He's been working for me for centuries now and knows exactly how to behave. There's a reason Spain wanted to trade you two and why he gave you up now."

Silence—Romano and Austria stared each other down while Hungary and Italy looked nervously between the two, the Italian becoming hysterical to a point of tears brimming in his eyes.

What pissed Lovino off the most was how off-handedly the piano-playing bastard had said that without the slightest hint of remorse, like if he were as easily as stating the day's forecast. He wanted to say something, do something that would surely hurt or offend Austria to a point of eradicating that cold, subtly smug expression off the prick's face. However, any curse or thoughts of breaking one of the fancy vases he saw in the hallway dissipated as the memory of Spain begging Austria to trade him for Italy crashed into him and he felt hollow.

Eventually, he settled on turning around and leaving the room without a word. He ignored his brother's cries of protest and Hungary's coaxes to return and stormed down the halls. With no particular destination in mind, Romano merely roamed the mansion, if anything to try and lose any possible pursuers. After a while, he found himself flinging open a door that led outside to the backyard and was stalking through it.

The weather outside was fair and the sun was shining gloriously upon the beautiful garden, surrounded by a fairly high stone wall, that Romano had stumbled upon. All around him were bushes coated with vivid pink lilies, celestial-white daisies, passionate crimson roses, sunset-orange marigolds, cheerful yellow sunflowers, shy amethyst violets, and so many other flowers with all sorts of names and colors. The grass spread around the area was soft to the touch and cool on a pair of bare feet. Numerous trees of all sizes were scattered about, and there was even a small, stone bridge hovering over a small, cerulean-golden pond settled in the middle of this magnificent garden.

All of this, however, was lost on the infuriated Italian who saw nothing but red as he stomped through the dirt path making its way through the foliage of vibrant green. He didn't stop until he reached a huge oak tree where he irritably plopped down next to it. The young teen took in several deep breaths and released countless hot, angry bouts of air and tried to calm down. The cool shade of the tree helped significantly, and Romano soon found himself able to think clearly.

Austria was a douchebag, that much was certain, yet there wasn't much the Italian could do about it; as far as he was concerned, he had to stay with the bastard for quite possibly the rest of his life. He could either run away or deal with it. Though the idea of ditching this place was tempting, Lovino knew it wasn't such a great idea simply because Austria would most likely send troops after him; besides, he had nowhere else to go. He doubted that that stupid tomato jerk was even an option for him anymore.

Being reminded of Spain brought a sharp wrench of pain in his chest and Romano growled as if to will the pain away. Alright, so he has no choice but to deal with the piano-playing bastard…fucking great. Austria was an annoying prick who tended to be a douchy jackass and this recent conversation was an excellent example. The jerk's words resounded in his mind, and Lovino knew that they wouldn't be going away for a while.

You ought to really take after your brother…There's a reason Spain wanted to trade you two and why he gave you up now.

Goddamn…that hurt the worst. Yet, Romano couldn't fathom why and eventually presumed that maybe because it was true—he wasn't special, he was useless.

On impulse, probably brought on by the subconscious thought of Spain, the Italian reached into his pocket and brought out the chunk of silver and clutched it to his chest, curling a bit into himself. He felt a burning sensation prickle at the back of his eyes, and he squeezed his orbs shut as something wet formed at the corner of them. The young teen hurriedly wiped it away (denying them to be tears) and unconsciously straightened up, getting ahold of himself.

This wasn't the time to be bitching like, well, a bitch. If someone were to see him…

The thought got Romano to fully sit up and put on the strongest, most impenetrable scowl he could muster. Gripping onto the silver rather tightly, the Italian willed himself completely calm and emotionally stable before getting up, stowing away his keepsake, and walking back into the mansion. After wandering the halls for a while, Romano was ultimately tackled to the ground by a teary-eyed, hysterical Veneziano who blubbered on about being worried about him and how Austria didn't mean to be such a 'meany-pants' (more like an inconsiderate asshole) and to say such 'hurtful things'.

Once Lovino got Feliciano to stop crying (by yelling at him), the older sibling (begrudgingly) allowed him to finish his tour, if anything to get the younger teen to shut up. And no, he didn't do it to make his brother happy. What a stupid thought…

At some point, they were found by Hungary who insisted that she take them (i.e. Romano) to Austria since he 'has something to say'. They found the bastard reading a book in the mansion's library, looking like if he didn't have a care in the world (jerk…).

As it turns out, Hungary had given him a good scolding and demanded that he apologize. The result was Austria claiming that he 'may have' said things that were 'possibly out of line'—essentially, it wasn't exactly an apology and he hadn't even looked particularly guilty or sorry in any way. Regardless, Romano reluctantly had to accept this 'apology' if not for Hungary and Italy's sake; he had to grip the silver in his pocket though while he said it for the support.

The rest of the day proceeded without further incident; Italy and Hungary did their best to make him feel comfortable and get settled in while servants brought in his stuff. Nevertheless, to Austria, that wasn't an excuse for 'dilly-dallying' and sent him to work right away. The music bastard acted naturally as if nothing happened and actually impassively commented that he scrubbed the kitchen floor 'rather decently'. Lovino guessed that in his own way, Roderich was making up for the things he had said and was trying to praise him.

All in all, the Italian figured that that meant that they were supposed to be cool.

For good measure though, when the Austrian asked for tea, Romano made sure to spit in it.

{~/~/~}

Life just wasn't fair—in fact, it just plain sucked at times.

Spain glared intently at the target a few meters ahead of him and threw a battle axe at it with all his might—a direct hit…a direct hit that managed to split the stuffed doll-thing in half. Antonio snorted, walked over, and wrenched his weapon free. A servant immediately rushed over to clean it up, hurriedly babbling some nonsense about making the perfect shot. The nation ignored him and turned his attention on another target doll, this one stationary for more 'up-close' training. Brandishing his axe, Spain lashed out at the dummy and made quick work of it, letting out an angry, frustrated, vented-up grunt with each strike.

Even after the doll was shredded until it was nothing but cloth and sawdust, Spain didn't stop hacking at it until he felt his fury dissipate ever so slightly; nonetheless, his guilt and frustration still remained, and he knew that nothing had changed. Looking down at the remains of his inanimate 'enemy', Antonio suddenly felt tired and drained and dismissed himself from his workout, dropping his axe on the way out.

A week ago today, his tomate was taken from him. Well, more specifically, Spain was forced to let him go; upon his boss's orders as well as from the pressure of his fellow nations, the brunette had no choice but to relinquish many of his colonies, including Romano, to the other European countries.

He didn't want to agree to this. Though he much preferred Philip of Anjou as heir to the throne, he would've gladly let that Archduke Charles guy take the crown if that meant he got to keep Romano. Nevertheless, most of people wanted Philip, regardless if that meant losing Romano, and Spain was forced to listen to the demands of his people. It was with a heavy heart that he broke the news to his precious colony and it remained in the days to come before the Italian was sent off to Austria.

Ever since then, his home didn't feel so comfortable and familiar; instead of feeling relief and relaxation, he felt empty and purposelessness as he walked through the hallways. The mansion he grew up in just wasn't the same anymore, as if the color and life within it had been sucked out without his knowing. Without Romano stomping and strutting around, being angry about something or another or just breaking something, Spain's home had lost a huge chunk of its soul.

The exhaustion start seeping in deeper and Antonio found himself pushing open the door to a room that wasn't his; all he knew was that it had a bed and that was good enough for him. Nevertheless, the weariness in his eyes wasn't enough to blind him from the fact that he had stumbled into Romano's room (old room, he mentally corrected himself with a grimace).

Spain glanced around with wonder at the familiarity of it all, half-expecting the sheets to be wet with 'squirrel' pee and the place to be messy with dirt, pizza stains, and other unidentifiable grime. Be as that may, the room was spotless from when Romano cleaned it out when packing his things to leave, a sight that was permanently seared in Spain's mind like the mark of a branding iron. There were a few objects and clothes still left behind, however, and the Spaniard wasn't sure to be happy about seeing reminders of Lovino or saddened.

Trudging further into the room, Spain threw himself onto Romano's bed and caught a whiff of his former charge's scent: he smelled of pine needles resting in a pile of fresh, crisp snow—completely new and refreshing. Antonio groaned and turned over to lie on his back, glancing up at the ceiling. He had to fix this, he had to make things right. He promised himself and Lovino that he would do everything he could to bring the young Italian back and he intended to keep it.

But it was so hard. He had to take care of so many things and appease so many people. Moreover, to his boss and people's lament, the country was starting to lose power in Europe. It didn't matter much to Spain anymore, yet it was just one of those times when his opinion was disregarded for the sake of making others happy. Ah, the joys of being a country.

Wanting the suffocating depression to go away, Spain absentmindedly reached into his coat and pulled out a piece of parchment—more specifically, he brought out Romano's picture. He gazed at it for a long while before the tiniest of smiles broke out on his face. Lovino truly had talent. He had been lucky to have the young Italian as his colony…even if he broke some things and never got things cleaned and woke him up practically every morning with a head-butt and cursed him often…

You know what, let's think of the good things.

Antonio wryly chuckled to himself. Romano may have been a handful, but I adore him nonetheless. Dios mío, I miss him. The Spaniard sighed and held up the picture so that it was hovering over him. A smile ghosted over his lips as he recalled when Lovino had given it to him, how his face was all red and how embarrassed he was. So cute~

He had to get Romano back, he promised; besides, life was dull and meaningless without him. Emitting another sigh, Spain mentally ran through ways he could retrieve his tomate. It wasn't going to be easy since his country was in disarray, but he had to try—there had to be some way he could do this.

Urgh! This is so hard! If I had more power, then I'd be strong enough to recover Romano. Maybe if I had places like Sicily or Sardinia again, I'd have the sovereignty to do anything.

Spain raised up his head. Hold on a minute… If he had control of Sicily, then he could get Romano back! Yes, that's it! Spain got so excited that he shot up from the bed. All he had to do was win back Sicily (and other Italian territory wouldn't hurt either) and then things will go back to normal; his house will have life again!

Antonio jumped to his feet, exited the room, and started jogging down the hallways. He had to speak to the king and queen and convince that they had to get back Romano! He figured it'd be synch since their royal highnesses had been complaining about losing their 'possessions' (a word that infuriated Spain and made him sick to his stomach at the thought of Romano being considered an 'object').

Yes, he could do this! He's going to get his grumpy tomate back! He was going to take Sicily!

Ah, Spain's enthusiasm just rocks~

I apologize for any OOC-ness in this chapter. I hardly ever write out Italy, Austria, or Hungary for an extended period of time; I often just have them say a couple of lines of dialogue in my Hetalia one-shots or have them mentioned in passing. With that said, I had to rewatch episodes with them~ It was the one time where I didn't mind doing 'research' ;3

Anyways, thanks for reading! More to come as soon as possible! :D

P.S Hopefully this chapter wasn't too confusing. Basically, if Spain wanted Philip of Anjou as heir to the Spanish throne, then he had to give up some of his European colonies to keep some European countries satisfied. This is known as the "War of the Spanish Succession". You can look it up if you're still confused. Just know that Romano was taken away from Spain to go live with Austria instead. More on that later...

Translations:

Italian

Fratello-brother

Dio!-God!

Spanish

tomate-tomato

Dios mío-My god