Chapter 3- Sogni e Fuoco

Unfortunately, Romano's dreams were full of worries, worries concerning his life. Like Finland he spent all his life- up to the nineteenth century as an underling. First there was Austria, who took in both him and his younger brother and made their lifes a living hell; forcing both of them to maintain his big house and dress suspiciously like women. Eventually Austria became bored with him and passed him to Spain like and old toy.

Spain was even worse. Just as unappreciative as Austria, always chasing after Veniziano and never around to watch him clean... he always came home after the mess was made.

Gradually the dream shifted to his complete life with Spain, from his first day all the way to his freedom in 1861. Twelve hours of horrible memories. By the time he woke up, he understood what Finland had said. "Wrong answer."

As usual, Venizino was right next to him. It was hard to tell, but he was sure that his brother was at least half awake. "Veniziano... Do you still like Austria all these years later?", he asked his brother quietly.

"What?", responded Veniziano drowsily, "Of corse I do. His music is so cool..."

"Even after all the mistreatment?"

"Si."

Romano couldn't believe what he was hearing! His stupid brother still likes that asshole! It was understandable though... Veniziano likes everyone except for Britain, and of corse creepy Russia.

"Okay... I'm going downstairs to start breakfast now."

"That's good, Romano.", said Italy as he fell back into sleep.

But Romano did not head for the kitchen as said. Instead he dressed himself, taking care to put on a jacket, and headed for the living room. He went to the side table, opened the drawer and began furiously rummaging through the contents. He found what he wanted quickly. His dagger, left over from his days in the mafia.

Dagger in hand he headed for the Aeroporto Fiumicino, Rome's largest airport. Upon arrival he hid the weapon in his coat. The lazy security personnel didn't even bother checking for anything; Romano being a diplomat after all. He bought a two way ticket to Madrid and headed for the terminal. After sitting throgh a twenty-minute wait, his plane finally came. Upon boarding the plane he found his seat and spend the ensuing forty minutes in a quiet meditation.

While in his meditative state he fought his rationality. This self to-self battle was over his decision to kill Spain. One part of him wanted to do it so badly, but the other part of him was worried about the repercussions. What if all of Europe turns against him and his brother?! He didn't want to be cause of his brothers destruction. But there was still a constant homicidal nagging inside his mind, telling him that Spain must be punished for what he did. All the poking, stalking, and yelling must be revenged! Eventually the plane took off and Romano, being Italian, fell asleep.

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The promenade was dark, and all was quiet. He was running, running as fast as his small legs could carry him. The arches and gardens rushed by as he sped down the path. He knew not where he was running, but he knew he had to get there before it was too late.

Suddenly the pathe became a hallway lined with identical wooden doors. Nothing seemed strange about them, except that the agonizing screams of what seemed like and entire city could be heard radiating from the other side.

Running, running ever faster down this hallway of nightmares, Romano began to cry. Some unknown force compelled him to slow, then eventually stop. He was standing in front of a door stained with wet, crimson blood. Fighting his fears, he opened the door and was mortified by what he saw.

It was Spain's bedroom. Everything was burning. The walls, floorboards, and even the furniture was aflame. The scene had a certain smell of scorching flesh. This odor was being caused by the one thing over all that shook Romano to his very core. Spain was lying on the burning bed; his clothes drenched in blood and his skin burning in a gruesome manner. There was a dagger buried deep in his forehead, a dagger that carried distinct markings from the mafia rings of Southern Italy.

The small and helpless Romano could only look on in horror as his former boss and only true friend burned...

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He was awoken by a flight attendant. "Disculpe señor, but the flight is over. It's time to leave the plane."

"Oh!", said Romno with a start, "Grazie, miss." He jumped out of his seat and practically sprinted across the loading bridge to the terminal building. Navigating the Madrid-Torrejon Airport was difficult, but eventually he found the taxi station. He hailed a cab and gave the man directions to Spain's house.

After what seemed like an hour- but was only 20 minutes -of winding through the crowded streets of Old Madrid the taxi arrived outside a massive palace of a distinctly Moorish style; with turreted towers, red stone walls, lattice windows, and a jumble of tiled borderings, the building was a tribute to his abused past. That's why he hated every bit of stone and glass in it.

It took Romano some time to find the front door, which seemed lost in a maze of arches and windows. "Dio! If only my memory of this place was better, then I could find the stupid door.", Romano snapped under his breath. Eventually he found the entrance; a monolithic wooden slab covered in golden reliefs of Spain's history. Romano was even pictured there, poised on one tiny little knee, handing a basket of grapes and other fruits to a triumphant Spain. This image only made him angrier. Now he was absolutely sure that Spain had to die for his crimes against the Southern Italians. He huffed up the landing and forced open the door, trying to ignore the horrid feeling he got from touching it.

He was immediately stopped by a short, pudgy man with a big bristly mustache. His face was red, and he did not look happy to see the door flung open in such a rude manner, "Excuse me, sir! You can't just barge in here! You need to make an appointment with señor Spain.", the man said.

With a hint of rage in his voice Romano replied, "It's okay. I'm an old friend."

"I don't care if you're a friend or his father! You need an appointment!"

"Look you little piece of-"

"Who is it Arnesto?", asked Spain as he came down the grand curving staircase in front of Romano and Arnesto. Both Spain and Romano caught each others eye. Spain was obviously overjoyed to see his old underling. Romano gave Spain his typical look of resentment. "Romano! What a surprise! Why have you come all this way?", asked Spain excitedly, "It's been so long! I thought that you were mad at me for some reason. I'm glad you came today though. There's something I wanted to talk to you about. I want to exp-"

Romano stopped him there and said, "There's something I wanted to talk to you about also. It's very important. Can we continue our talk in the drawing room... please?"

"Oh... Uh, sure.", replied Spain, confused by Romano's sad sound and appearance. The two walked along an elaborate, decorated Moorish hallway that ended at a large oaken double door. Spain opened one side and held it for Romano. Arnesto had been following a few paces behind, but when he reached the entrance to the drawing room Spain motioned for him to turn back and stay in the foyer. With Arnesto gone, Spain closed the door and joined Roamno, who had found a place on one of the many ornate sofas that were contained within the space. Spain noticed that something was wrong with his friend. Instead of glaring at Spain, Romano had his head down and was looking away from him.

"So... Do you want to give your news first?", asked Romano.

"Okay. I was talking to my senior advisors, and they're disappointed with the working space of our correspondents in Naples. They want to expand the Spanish Consulate in your area. Of corse this would all have to be paid for by Rome... And the property taxes in Naples would go way up." Romano took this all in silently, still not looking at Spain. Inside, he was outraged. Not even his boss anymore and Spain somehow still manages to make his people miserable! The taxes in Naples were already high, now Spain wants them to go even higher! Spain continued, "There's even more good news around this proposal. Germany's boss heard about our plans and wants to move the German Embassy to Naples; he even wants to build it right next to mine! Isn't that funny?", asked Spain happily.

Romano exploded inside with this news. "That's it!", he yelled. His head snapped around and he looked Spain directly in the eyes with a mask of murderous rage on his face. "No! That's not good news! That's terrible news! I can't believe that even now you're trying to make me miserable!"

"Ro-Romano, I don't see what's wrong!", Spain said, obviously surprised by Romano's freak-out.

"You don't see what's wrong?! you're trying to make my life harder by expanding that stupid consulate of yours, and what's even worse is your actions are bringing that bastard Germany even closer to me!"

"It's not that bad... It's only a small extension on the east wing! So what if it'll cost 769,708 Euros."

"It's not just the cost! It's the fact that you're bringing my enemies closer to me! Do you think that I like Germany?! Cause' I don't!", Romano yelled, "That's it, I was unsure at first but now I know that this is what I have to do to get you back!"

"W-What are you going to do?", Spain asked, frightened by Romano's sudden change from sad to furious.

Romano, who had taken a stand at the beginning of his angry rant, pulled the knife out of his coat. Spain, who was still seated, saw the weapon; for a second he stared at it as if he wasn't really sure it was there. "Romano, why do you have a knife with you?", he asked.

"Because... I'm going to kill you!", Romano said in a sadistically calm voice.

Romano lunged at Spain. Seeing Romano move, Spain rolled of the sofa and stood up a pace away from his attacker. "Don't do this mi hijo.", Spain said in a serious voice.

"Don't you call me that!", Romano yelled. He ran at Spain ready to attack again. When Spain was in cutting distance Romano took a swipe at Spains stomach. This time Spain could only raise a defensive hand, which was promptly cut by Romano's dagger. Blood began to seep from the deep gash in Spain's hand. Both Spain and Romano stopped and stared unbelievingly at this wound. Spain was the first to snap out of the trance. He quickly darted across the room, past a still spacey Romano, and into an open door that led down an older hallway. Romano snapped out of it as soon as Spain passed through the entrance to the hall. He ran to catch up with his prey. "Vamos España!", he yelled down the long path. It may be Spain's house, but Romano still remembered the layout of the old building, the one he spent his childhood in. Romano was sure that he knew where Spain was heading, just like in his dream... Romano ran down the hall, came to a T-intersection and tuned left, found a staircase that would take him to the third floor and used it, and found himself in the same hallway as his dream. At this point he slowed to a walking pace. He walked down the hall careful to be quiet. Eventually he came to a certain door, a door with a long swipe of fresh blood on it. Romano pushed the door open slowly and looked in. What he saw made him smile. Sure enough, Spain was in his room, but he was unarmed and sitting on the bed, legs curled up, head down. Spain was weeping lightly, and seemed shivery. Romano walked over to Spain and stood in front of him. He pried the dagger underneath Spains chin and levered his head up to look at Romano. Spain's eyes had reddened and his face was damp with tears.

"My, my... How the mighty have fallen...", Romano said, clearly enjoying the scene.

"Why Romano?", Spain asked quietly.

"I think you know why.", Romano replied sternly.

Spain tuned his head away from Romano. "Was I really that bad?"

"You made life very hard. You took no time to try and yet to know me as a person... You were never around."

"Romano, I had no idea..."

"Well you're only a stupid Spainiard."

"Can we talk about this?", Spain asked. Thier was a glint of hope in his eyes that plucked at Romano's heart. For a second Romano actually began to feel compasion for this man. Yes he was a terrible boss who still makes his life difficlut, but he's still Spain... Romano began to retract the knife, which was still under Spain's chin, but then his moment of weakness passed and all the horrible memories came flooding back, drowning his sense of compassion in 400 years of hate. It was as if Romano temporarily lost all fellings for his old master, and no little beg of forgiveness was going to bring them back.

"Go ahead, Romano.", said Spain in a comforting voice, "Kill me."

"W-What?", asked Romano, caught off guard.

"Yes... If it will give you peace, do it. I'll do anything to make you happ-" Romano's dagger drove itself through Spains skull with a sickening crack. Spain only had a second to look up at the weapon before the life left his eyes and he died. Romano withdrew the blade. His face was serious, with a look of unmoving determination, Hot , sticky blood began to pour from the wound, drenching Spain's face and shirt. Romano stood still and took in all the death. He had done it, he killed the one he hated, but... why did he feel regretful? This man had been the bane of his existence, now he was gone forever. Up to this moment Spain had been sitting up, but now his dead body fell back on the bed. Romano turned and began to walk to the door, but not before taking one final look at his former master. Tracing his steps backwards he eventually found the drawing room. Before he left the space, Romano took out his hankerchief and wiped the blood spots off the tile where he had first cut Spain's hand. One finished he returned both the cloth and his dagger to his coat pocket.

Upon returning to the foyer, Romano was again stopped by the footman Arnesto. Romano was expecting another dickish scolding but was instead greeted with a warm smile on the man's fat face. He was holding a small gift basket. "Aquí tiene señor.", he said, "This is complements of my boss." Romano took the small parcel and looked inside. It contained a box of churros, a bottle of tequila that carried a logo with a suspiciously Arnesto looking man on it, and- for some reason -French chocolate. "Dio! Can't he get anything right?", Romano thought to himself when he saw the French sweets. Romano returned his gaze to Arnesto who, for some reason, was still there..

"Uuhhh... Is there anything I can help you with?", Romano asked, trying hard not to give Arnesto a weird look.

"No.", Arnesto replied, "May I show you to the door now?"

"Yes."

The short man guided Romano to the gilded portal at the front of the room. Romano stepped out into the warm Spanish sun and looked around. Nothing seemed different, not yet at least. As Romano headed down the stairs to the street he heard Arnesto's voice behind him. "Adios! I hope you enjoyed your visit with España." Romano ignored this farewell and once again hailed a cab that would take him to the Madrid-Torrejon airport. He wanted to get out of the country before everyone realized what happened to their precious Spain. "Driver. Hurry it up!", he told the man behind the wheel. The taxi sped up slightly and tuned onto the freeway.

So that's my third chapter... There's some things that I wanted to put in there but couldn't because of the story line. The Arnesto brand tequila is for my friend Hetahearts, she thinks that man is hilarious!

Please review!