Separate Leave of Absence Leading to a Dead End
The young nation looked up solemnly at the azure sky. He had been contemplating his preparations for the upcoming warfare that was bound to erupt on the designated front lines. He knew he needed to supply ammunition and supplies to sustain his troops but more importantly, the young nation was considering when and how he would break the news to his unrequited love.
He stood there gazing at the aloof clouds as if he expected them to give him reputable suggestions. Oh, how he wished to be the sky instead. With its enormous form stretching out into the endless horizons and hovering over the living beings inhabiting the earth. If wishes could be granted, he'd have the power to conduct relentless storms and blizzards out of rage towards those who brought unhappiness to his love, but also to create never ending days of sunshine and spring for his beloved to frolic on happily. Indeed if wishes could be granted, he would have the power to constantly watch and protect her.
The clouds continued floating aimlessly into the distance as the sun pushed them away. The sky was mocking him and he knew it. The boy narrowed his cerulean eyes and swore at the heavens. A sudden gust of wind blew his hat away and now the breeze was teasing his great blond hair. Gritting his teeth, he kicked a patch of grass with disgust and reached for his cap.
A small voice called from faraway for him. A tiny figure with a small curl sticking out from its auburn hair was slowly approaching, waving its hand and carrying a small bucket in another.
The young boy turned back to face her welcoming smile and sported an empty smile himself. The little boy gestured his naïve companion to sit right beside him on the grass. It was finally time to tell his love about his departure.
That night, an unbearable silence filled the air. It was so thick that it almost suffocated the inhabitants of the manor. It hung around every room and tiny cracks of the house that were occupied or not. Silent sobs could be perceived from a chamber. Most were muffled and short, but they were definitely present. A miserable toddler tried her best to keep quiet by biting her lip but a few sobs would slip out occasionally. She was trying her very best to be strong for him.
On the opposite side of the chamber, a little boy was sitting down on a chair beside the window. He was clutching his favorite portrait of her. The moon beheld the boy's glistening tears from out the window pane as they carelessly fell down from his cheeks. He grasped the precious painting tighter and tried resigning himself to sleep.
Dawn arrived inevitably commending the day of the fateful departure. The two micro-nations were out by the pathways delaying their farewells to one another. Not a single tear fell from neither side's faces as they silently said their last goodbyes. The toddler with the curl tried to smile cheerfully.
"You will come back, won't you Holy Roman Empire?" the child began. She said this in such a cheery and believable way that one wouldn't have known that she was helplessly breaking inside.
The blonde boy admired her for this and, still clutching the portrait, he replied, "Yes, of course I will Italy! Even if it's the last thing I do."
And with those last words, Holy Roman Empire turned back and marched onto his doomed fate. Unbeknownst to him, Italy had already broken down and released all of his restrained emotions.
Months of relentless fighting steadily wore down the Holy Roman Empire. Throughout those months, all he had perceived was insanity and bloodshed. Everywhere he turned, bodies littered the ground he stood on. Most were of his troops. Triumph and success were well beyond him now and only defeat lay ahead.
The boy knew it was futile to hope for victory, but there was no turning back now. He had to try and fight to the end for his idealistic empire. The very same empire, in fact, that he promised to himself Italy would be proud to become part of. With him…
Holy Roman Empire continued wiping the blood off of his sword subconsciously. He raised his head and looked back at the portrait of Italy lying up by the ammunition chests. It was considerably worn out but he kept it close by him and never lets it out of his sight.
He would not be coming back...
Things in Austria's household were never the same after the young nation left. He and Hungary would always find Italy sweeping outside by where they had last seen the Holy Roman Empire. Poor Italy kept a blank and distant look as he swept. Austria and Hungary knew very well what Italy was thinking about during those times, for they too, had missed the prudent young boy.
Italy had missed the nice quiet, old times when he and the Holy Roman Empire would just calmly sit by the field and talk about the pleasures of life or the Holy Roman's plans of what his empire was going to be like. Once in a while, one of them would blush out of line and there would be this awkward, but comfortable peace between them.
Oh, how I wish to relive those days once more with you...
The raindrops seemed to rattle as it collided with the ground continuously. Rain, blood and mud appeared to blend and become one dyeing the ground into a sickly red color. A young boy was lying face down on the dirty ground, sword still at hand. His uniformed hat had been blown to bits days ago as well as most of his comrades. Bodies upon bodies littered the battleground as the last of his troops had subsided. He was the only one left in that terrifying playground of war.
Holy Roman Empire weakly lifted his head. His once bright blue eyes were glazed and hazy. He closed his eyes tiredly and a vivid image of his Italy appeared. She was smiling up at him as usual, encouraging him to lift his chin up smile. He tried to remember the last time they had seen each other. Suddenly, a reiteration of his vow to her echoed in his mind.
"…I will Italy! Even if it's the last thing I do…"
His eyes shot up and he tried gathering up what little energy he had to stand up. Yes, he remembered now. He, the Holy Roman Empire, had promised to come back to his beloved Italy. He had promised her that he would definitely come back. And this time, this time, he will show her how much he loved her without anything holding back.
This time…he won't hold anything back…
He gave his last battle cry and darted on to the enormous armies before him.
In the distance, a silent prayer was being uttered by an uneasy Italy. Tears threatened to fall, his hands tightly clasped together as he continued his mournful chant.
Barrages of arrows were launched by hundreds of archers. They whizzed down like the pouring rain on the young boy. An unmerciful arrow penetrated the boy's torso from behind. Tears plummeted shamelessly from his eyes as they closed. He collapsed lifelessly with a sickening thump...
I'm sorry my love...
Snow glided onto Italy's hat as he stood petrified outside. His gut was pulling up into tight knots. His palms and forehead were warm and sweaty. Italy was shaking not from the cold, but it was as if his body willed it to. At that moment, he knew something had happened. A single snowflake rested on the tip of his nose. He stood frozen at that very spot looking up at the moon.
Without even his consent, the child crumpled up into a ball wailing.
His body had completely taken over and his mind couldn't even process what he was howling about. All he felt was his heart tightening as if it was being squeezed by a painful force. Everything else, save for the enormous pain in his chest, was numb.
He thought he saw Hungary come and cradle him into his arms and perhaps he saw Austria running out of the house with a blanket. Everything he knew and felt from then on was based on supposes.
A young man solemnly trudged along the dirt path.
Grief and fatigue weighed down on his very being, his senses were still in a state of pained shock. In his feeble arms, he carried a child; a mere child that had suffered through a lot more tragedies than any normal adult alone could bear. The boy's eyes were peacefully closed. He wore an almost pleasant expression on his face despite the fact that his clothes were torn and filthy with mud from the battlefield. A delicate strand of gold rested on the child's forehead and the man gently brushed it away from the youth's pale face.
The man placed a cloth over the child's face and continued walking.
Just a little farther and we'll be there…
He sauntered step by step until he reached a manor gate. There, just outside, was a toddler innocently sweeping the leaves off the front. She, or possibly he, looked up to meet his eyes with confusion at first. Then the toddler smiled and greeted didn't seem to the boy in his arms. The man grimly nodded his head in return.
A lady came out peeking from the door into the front yard. She stared at the man uneasily biting her lip.
"By any chance, could this be the estate of Mister Austria?"
The toddler with the broom was opened his mouth to reply, however the lady in the patio interrupted.
"Why yes, this is Mister Austria's estate…," she paused nervously fidgeting with her apron.
The woman took a deep breath and continued, "Is anything the matter?"
In less than a second, their eyes interlocked ominously. An understand silence passed on between the two before the young woman finally broke down crying. Austria came out from behind the looking at the man before him, Austria pulled the lady into a tight embrace and stroke her back, muttering gentle words.
The auburn haired child was puzzled. Miss Hungary was usually a very strong woman and he had hardly ever seen her fall to pieces like that. What could have had possibly happened to make her so upset?
"…Hey… what's the matter...what is wrong with you Miss Hungary?" he asked innocently.
This only made the young woman cry harder.
Italy turned to the stranger. The man looked sympathetically back at him and got down on one knee.
The gnawing feeling instantly returned, this time closer to his chest. Italy's blood ran cold as the stranger unmasked his luggage.
A boy, about his age, was resting serenely on the stranger's arms.
His hands were neatly folded together. His complexion was grave yet light. His eyelashes extended out from his closed eyes. A burst of light blond hair covered the boy's head. Finally, solemn smile was engraved onto his tight lips.
Italy's eyes widened in recognition…
Without a moment's thought, he ran up to boy. His fragile heart wrenching inside of him, Italy clasped his dear friend's cold hands. With an evident denying grin he talked to the boy nonchalantly.
"You're back Holy Roman Empire! Hahaha, I knew you'd come back for me! I've missed you a lot did you know that? It was a little bit lonely being here by myself, but Mr. Austria bought me a cute little cat. I haven't named it though…I was waiting for you so we can name it together. It's pretty clumsy but it's really cute. I can't wait for us to play together again!" His words came out a bit fast and slurred.
He nestled the lifeless boy's hands onto his face, expecting a familiar warmth to rush in immediately.
The hand was as cold as stone and nothing but despair seeped in its place.
Italy's hands were trembling as Austria walked over to the miserable scene. The man observed the heart breaking duo before him.
"…I see…," Austria started. He gently placed a hand on the poor toddler's shaking frame.
"…he's already…"
"No!" burst Italy.
He slapped Austria's hand from his shoulder and buried his face on Holy Roman Empire's garments.
"He's not! He's not! He's not!" he cried.
Italy shook the lifeless body of his friend.
"Come on Holy Roman Empire! Show them! Show them that their lying! Wake up and play with me! Come on!"
The two men sat in silence.
"Come on, please wake up! Wake up Holy Roman Empire! Please…wake up…"
The dreary toddler persisted shaking the unmoving corpse. Not a single response could be received from the limp body.
"That is enough, Italy…please just stop…"
"He is not coming back…" Austria separated the child away and held him back.
Italy fiercely fought back but was unable to break free. He shook his head as his the hateful tears came down stinging his eyes.
"He can't…Holy Roman Empire…he can't be…," the child muttered monotonously.
The Holy Roman Empire no longer exists.
The concept was so blunt, yet he found it hard to believe. He found it hard to believe how all of this was ending. In his mind, Italy simply could not accept the truth.
He derides and banished the idea away. Far, far away and hoping to forget about the cold lie the others were forcing down his throat.
No, it was all unreal. In his world, the Holy Roman Empire remained sitting down on those god forsaken fields. He would run up to the boy as always and they'd watch the sunset change colors throughout the seasons.
"I've been waiting for you!" is what he would say and together, they would laugh.
However, somewhere also far, far away, an agonizing voice called and urged him to remember. It urged him to remember something important, however, the young boy, tired and defeated, submerged instead into a deep pool of unconsciousness and considered emptiness. The little voice in the back of his mind kept reprimanding his thoughts and would always admit.
Yesterday, I understood that we can't meet each other again. Yes, I tried and understood all of that. By knowing separation, it seems that we can become strong, yet feel so helplessly weak. But it's fine even if we can't become stronger than this.
Fin
Thank You for reading my...weird story. ^_^" I wasn't sure how it was going to turn out but oh well, I tried. Writing Tragedies is hard. This story is actually based on a MAD of Hetalia about HRE and Chibitalia. I encourage you guys to watch. It's really good. Search it up on Youtube by typing:
[APH] Kokoni Shika Sakanai Hana [with English Subtitle]
One last thing, I'm not really sure about this whole issue about whether or not Germany and HRE are related but I totally support (I hope I don't get shot by saying this) the idea that HRE just died in battle and that he is no way related to Germany, at all. Now I know, that there are a bunch "evidence" about them being linked somehow, but I believe the whole "separate beings" theory. So...yup. Your thoughts about that?