Angst, angst, and more angst. Post WWII, GerIta, Hetalia universe.
After the Nuremberg Trials, Ludwig was very quiet. He walked with his shoulders slumped in defeat, lacking his usual military pride. When he spoke with people, he refused to look them in the eye; rather, he stared steadfastly at the ground.
It broke my heart to see this shattered ruin of what had been my ally, captain, and friend. Yet I could do nothing. I had joined the Allies and was therefore forbidden to speak with him.
Alfred had jumped in right after the last battles had been found. He helped Kiku recover after the atomic bombs, and Ludwig after his final defeat. He stood tall and proud next to the humbled Germanic who suddenly looked very small and insignificant in comparison. Alfred never let me help with their rebuilding. I could see the caution and mistrust in his otherwise cheerful blue eyes, their shade so like Ludwig's, and it tore at my heart. My friends, my former allies, had always aided me in times of need, and now I couldn't even return the favor.
One day, I happened to pass my blonde ex-partner on the street, his hands stuffed into his pockets in a posture he despised. I stopped, frozen in my tracks as he brushed past.
"Excuse me." His voice was polite, but raw and full of pain. My heart sank into my feet.
"G-Germany? Germany, it's me…" I rested a hand on his arm, forcing him to stop. Slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his eyes to meet mine. There were dark bags beneath his eyes, even more severe that before, and those soulful blue depths were flawed and bloodshot.
"I can't talk to you, Italy." His tone was muted and apologetic, but full of self loathing. "You know that."
"I can say hello, can't I?"
"Ah…" Ludwig's face softened for a moment, eyes brimming with hesitation.
"Come on!" I snatched up his hand, glancing quickly from left to right to make sure that the Allies were nowhere to be found. "I'll make us some pasta!"
Either he was too tired or polite to refuse, but he followed me, allowing me to pull him behind me. Already, my heart was beating eagerly; it was just like before. Within ten minutes, the German nation was seated at my kitchen counter, staring absently at the steaming dish of pasta in front of him.
"Aren't you hungry?" I swallowed nervously, searching his blank expression for some sort of response.
"Yes. Thank you, Italy." There were traces of relief in his voice as he spoke my name, sending a shiver of excitement down my spine.
"Well then, dig it!"
We ate in silence, the room filled with the clanking of silverware and the slurping of noodles. I smiled, relishing the sight of the pale strands disappearing between his thin lips.
"So, how's the rebuilding coming?" Ludwig was quiet for a very long time, his fork frozen halfway to his mouth.
"Alfred is a good man… nation." He said finally, "I'm glad that he's willing to help. The destruction from the Great War gave Hitler his rise." There was only scorn in his late boss' mention. I flinched.
"I'm sorry."
"For what?" His blue eyes rose up to meet mine, question in their depths.
"For not helping. You all always helped me, but now…" My lips trembled and tears threatened my cheeks. "I c-can't even…"
"Italy." A knowing smile flickered across his features. "I'll be fine."
I hated that. Every time I tried to comfort him, Ludwig always ended up comforting me instead. For once, I wanted to pat his head as he cried into my chest. I wanted to return the favor.
"No, you won't!"
"What?"
"Y-you're hurt, right? And your people-"
"Italy, I-"
"No!" I had stepped closer to him with each outburst, and now I threw my arms around him. "You're not okay, Germany! You're people are hurt and starving, and Prussia, your brother…"
A gentle sob echoed across the room, stunning me. From within my embrace, I could feel my blonde friend shudder.
"Italy…" His voice held a slight hitch as the lump in his throat blocked out his airway. Suddenly, I decided that I would rather be comforted by him for all eternity than see him lose his cool.
"Germany?"
"It's been awful." There was a haunted quality hanging about him as he spoke, his entire body shaking violently. "Hitler was…"
I remembered my Axis boss, how much he'd torn apart the world for his own ends. Ludwig's boss had been just as bad, if not worse.
"If I were human, I would be dragged to hell for what I've done." He continued, eyes closed and streaming. "What Alfred's doing for me is… is…"
"Germany, I-"
"I've raped, pillaged, and murdered. I don't deserve to live, let alone, be with you, Italy."
Suddenly, I understood. Ludwig had kept away not only because of the Allies (they hadn't stopped him before), but because he was punishing himself. But if being away from me was his punishment, that meant…
"Italy, I shouldn't be allowed to love you after what I've done to so many homosexuals. I shouldn't be allowed to be so happy right now…"
A fresh wave of sobs broke free of the taller nation, deep, gut-wrenching sobs. I could sense his anger, sorrow, self-frustration, and weakness in those wracking cries as they issued from his throat. That day, Ludwig cried as though his heart was breaking, and because I could do nothing, mine broke, too.
"It's okay, Germany," I whispered finally, my lips pressed against his shoulder, "sometimes it's good to cry. How else would you get rid of your boss' poison?"
"You don't understand." He gasped, looking at me with tortured eyes, "I allowed so many to be murdered, and for what end?"
"Um…"
"There is no excuse." Now, standing in my arms, he looked so fragile and small. Like a child. Like the Holy Roman-
"I will live with the title 'Nazi' forever. My children will be hated by all others, and for what? For a madman who abandoned us when we needed him most?" His hands balled into fists in my shirt, resting against the small of my back. "For a murder of men, women, and children?"
"You fought for what you thought was right, Germany, and that's all we can do."
"But the Gypsies and Jews, I slaughtered them in the worst ways possible. Oh, it hurt every time they were killed, I could feel my entire body burning. It was terrible. And what I did to France and Poland…"
"Germany, you followed your orders, and that's all we can do."
"But-"
"Ludwig," I spoke his name slowly and softly, "If you're feeling regret, then clearly you aren't evil. I would only hate and fear you if you felt no shame for your actions."
"Ita… Feliciano." Warmth crept into my chest as my heart swelled with love for this broken nation. "I'm sorry for doing this."
He straightened up, releasing his death grip on my shirt, and composed himself. The only signs of his grief were his red eyes, but nothing more suggested an outburst.
"Danke." He kissed me gently on both cheeks, then left, his ears the bright red that they always turned when he was embarrassed.
I assured myself that I was happy, having comforted Ludwig. Truthfully, I knew that I never wanted to see him like that again. When someone as strong and proud as he is bent with tears and sorrow, one cannot help but tremble.
I didn't see him again for a few years until he raised the issue of rearming. He argued that he needed to be able to defend his children and I agreed. Years after that, we were able to see each other again, but I'm sure that the tears I saw then were of joy.
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