Pairing: Implied Soldier!Germany x Catholic Priest!North Italy
Warnings: AU
Word Count: 1090
Authors Notes: So... my first piece of writing here on . Yeah, sorry if you find any typos and what not. The setting for this AU Hetalia fic (where the characters are obviously human) is post WWII. Constructive criticism and feedback is welcome greatly.

A dove's nest in the soldier's helmet.

It's raining on the streets of Italy's capital and what is to be a time of celebration is simply quiet. A war that had claimed innocent lives and soldiers on both sides is over and to many it seemed like it had only just begun. The streets are empty though, the echo of familiar gunfire and bombs vacant with only the rubble of homes and lost loved ones reminding the citizens of what had happened only days prior. And, with that silence that situates itself into Rome, it feels as if the city itself is dead.

However, it's not; subtle footsteps tread along the stone paving of the empty streets to a still church amongst the neighborhood. The figure, a male of tall and muscular appearance approaches the building and opens the church's large twin doors to be met with the creaking of age taking its toll on the building. Shutting the doors behind him he glances about to see that no one is here, he is simply alone and to that he isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. None the less, he removes his hat to reveal slicked back blond hair and the bright blue eyes - nervous and dark that glance towards the large statue of the virgin Mary as he walks up to it. A voice stops him though, one of a cheerful tone and lightheartedness that causes the man to look back at the same doors he entered to see a young brunette standing there. The boy himself is wearing white robes and a red sash that hangs loosely around his neck and with a rosary, surely enough, around it as well. "Can I help you?" he asks in a kindly manner, a smile etched onto his lips.

The blonde is unsure how to respond, his own features becoming perplexed as his jaw tightens, like he is quieting himself. "I..." his voice cracks and his lips become tightly knit together, eyes darting to the red carpeted flooring. "I... wanted to come and... confess to my sins."

"Your accent — are you by chance German?" the priest asks, the smile never once leaving his face.

His question holds no malice however as the blonde would have expected, just innocent curiosity. Although the other man hesitates, he still nods his head courteously, an almost whispered "Ja" leaving his chapped lips. "What's your name?" he then asks, taking a few steps towards the taller man.

And, as the young priest closes the distance between this stranger in his church, he clearly sees he is a military man. An all-too familiar green uniform with an iron cross at the necktie making up his attire. "Ludwig."

The young priest nods. "My name is Feliciano," he introduces, a warm glow in his amber eyes. "It's nice to meet you, Ludwig."

The gentle tone in his voice takes Ludwig back slightly; after all, it's not every day that a soldier meets a kindly gaze across — once — enemy lines. It's then that the priest walks past the German to sit on one of the bench's of the church and gestures for Ludwig to sit with him, a light pat on the spot beside him. Hesitantly complying to the invitation, he seats himself on the bench. "So," Feliciano begins, giving Ludwig a reassuring smile. "Where would you like to start?"

The blonde gives a shaky sigh and leans back, gaze held by the statue of Mary. "I... I thought I was fighting for all the right reasons. But... my Country lied to me. All I was really fighting for was greed and lies, and all that was caused from it was death and sorrow."

"It was too late though, when I came to realize my actions and wrong-doings, it was already over." Ludwig buried his head in his hands, a look of anguish now upon his features. "And, finally when I spoke out, my comrades — my friends — they all abandoned me; here in Rome too, the people all look at me with such hate — like I'm a monster. I can't blame them though, I truly was."

"I don't hate you though." Feliciano speaks up, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Everyone deserves forgiveness like our Lord tells us, and you are no different my friend."

"But why!" the German shouts, confusion and anger mixing in the pools of his eyes. "I've killed tons of people, sons, daughters, fathers, cousins. And, all for what? So Germany — a place I once called home — to take over other Countries out of pure greed?"

"We've all made mistakes, what differentiates those with good intentions and those without is the ability to learn from those mistakes. And, I think you've fully realized your wrong doings." the brunette states, a calmness in his tone that soothes the rage in Ludwigs heart. "The Lord I'm sure has forgiven you. The question is, Ludwig, have you forgiven yourself?"

"I..." He chokes on his words, a distressed look now on Ludwig's face. "I... but... all those people..."

"Take your time," Feliciano interrupts, the kindness still aglow in his eyes. "This isn't something that can be done quickly. Time heals all wounds, including the ones in your soul."

Ludwig is now silent, a look of inner struggle and contemplation upon his features. He seems to be taking the young priests words with stride though, and even though this will definitely take time — forgiveness with himself — he has decided that it will happen. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this year, maybe not even in ten years, but this forgiveness will happen one way or another. "You don't have a place to stay, do you?" the priest asks him in a lighter tone.

"Uh..." Ludwig glances to the floor and then to Feliciano, surprise and embarrassment flushed upon his cheeks. "N-no, I don't."

The Italian only smiles at the ex-soldier and stands, that familiar glow flickering in his eyes as he offers a gentle hand towards Ludwig. "Well, you can always stay here. I insist really, the Lord would not like it if I were to turn away someone in need. I'm sure you could use the company as well."

Ludwig bites his tongue as he is about to politely deny the priests offer, but the look in his eyes, one of resolute and warmth quickly silences the words lingering in his throat. Hesitantly he reaches out his hand to Feliciano's in which he grasps it gently, the smile upon the younger man's lips tugging slightly to become larger. "Thank you. I'd... I'd like that."