Chapter Three

"Italy!" Ludwig roared, "Get your head back into the car now!" His eyes were fixed on the road, but they slid over occasionally to Feliciano just to make sure he was behaving. Currently, a vein had popped out on his forehead from his annoyance.

"But I like having the wind on my face," Feliciano pouted, but he complied anyway, sitting back down properly. Only when he had his seatbelt back on did the German relax a little bit. "You should try it too, it's fun!"

"I'm not a dog." Ludwig grumbled, easing up on the pedal to make a turn. "And neither are you." He added as an afterthought. Relief coursed through his veins as the Kubelwagen pulled into a familiar driveway and finally stopped. Taking Feliciano out in a car was one of the most terrifying, heart stopping and traumatic experiences ever. It was as if the man had no clue just how dangerous it was to fool around on a moving car. Honestly, Ludwig thought that if he had to do it every day, he would go stark raving mad. "We're here." He announced, throwing open his car door and swinging both feet out.

Feliciano cheered and clambered out of the Kubelwagen, only tripping once, and ran up excitedly to the main door. "Austria! Hungary!"The Italian called loudly, waving an arm even though no one had opened the door yet. Ludwig sighed and followed at a more reasonable pace, shoving both hands into his pockets. He didn't really have a particular reason to visit Elizaveta and Roderich, but Ludwig thought that seeing them might cheer Feliciano up a bit. After the nightmare the other day, he didn't quite seem to be his usual self. At that moment, the door was opened to reveal a brown haired woman with a frying pan in hand. Upon seeing them, she smiled cheerfully and said,

"My, my, it's Italy and Germany."She opened the door wider and ushered them inside. "What brings you two here today?"

"Germany brought me to visit," Feliciano chattered happily, making his way through the opulent mansion like he'd never left, "But I think I left some of my pastels and canvasses here from the other time, so I want to go and find them."

"Oh, those," Elizaveta smiled knowingly, gesturing towards the staircase, "I kept them in your old room, and they should still be there."

"Really?" The Italian beamed, "Then I'll go get them now!" and then he was gone in a flash, scampering downstairs. The moment he was out of sight. The cheerful smile fell from Elizaveta's lips, and she turned to Ludwig with a worried frown. Caught off guard by her sudden change in mood, Ludwig almost took a step back.

"What is it?" He asked, keeping most of the anxiety out of his voice.

"Roderichneeds to talk to you," She said and took him by the arm. "He's upstairs now."

"What about Italy?"

Elizaveta smiled reassuring, "He's lived here for most of his childhood. I think he'll be fine." As they got closer to Roderich's room, Ludwig could hear a faint melody growing louder with every stop. It stopped, however, only when Elizaveta knocked on the door. "Germany is here," She announced softly, and a black haired head peeked up from the score in front of him.

"Oh," He murmured, setting aside the sheets of paper and his pen. "Good. Thank you, Elizaveta." There was a soft click that indicated her departure, and Ludwig turned to face him quizzically. Roderich waved a hand at the couch at the side of the room and took a seat there himself, rubbing his temples with his hands. "I take it that you haven't heard?"

"About what?" Ludwig questioned, sitting down to face the man. He had no idea where this was going, but the more than solemn way that Roderich was treating this was giving him some unease. The German liked to be well informed of things, on top of the news, but apparently he had missed out on something.

Roderich leaned in slightly, his silence creating a tension far greater than any playwright could pull off. And when he spoke, his voice was low, "They say that Russia is on the verge of declaring war."

"Impossible," Ludwig jerked backwards in surprise, "no one's declared all-out war in years!" Roderich merely shook his head, keeping silent. Apparently that was all there was to this little bit of news, and there was nothing more that he could add. "Against the Axis? What about the Allies?"

"Rumour is that even the Allies aren't sure of what he's doing." Roderich continued, "It looks like he's working alone." A grim silence befell the two. It wouldn't be as bad as World War II, when the Allies were all against them, but Ivan alone was a truly formidable force. And if he really did declare war, he would be called upon to take part in it, Ludwig knew that. Against his better instincts, he thought of Feliciano. The poor man would not stand a chance against Ivan. Would it be safer to leave him behind then? But then again, Feliciano somehow managed to put himself in danger on a normal day, how would he fare without Ludwig? "You're thinking of Italy aren't you? You've got that look on your face." Ludwig looked away, the tips of his ears colouring pink.

"He's my friend, it's normal for me to worry about him." Ludwig rebuffed Roderich gruffly.

"He's not that weak, you know?" Roderich said, much to Ludwig's surprise. "When he was much younger, before he was at my house, Italyonce defeated Turkey, back when he called himself the Ottoman Empire." Ludwig's blue eyes widened, and his mouth actually slipped open a little. In his mind, he tried to match up a picture of the cowering, carefree Feliciano as a child who'd actually managed to fend off Sadik. "He just doesn't like to fight, ever since Rome di- disappeared." Roderich's lips tightened at the slip, unwilling to actually mention that word. As nations, it was much harder for them to die, but it wasn't an uncommon thing. Still, it was a tragedy whenever it happened, and would most likely be remembered for a long, long time. "I'm sure if he needs to, he can defend himself."

"Or surrender," Ludwig interjected darkly, remembering all those times that Feliciano had raised the white flag whenever he wasn't around to help.

"That's his way of not fighting." Roderich corrected, "Give him some credit." But before Ludwig could reply, they were interrupted by the slamming of the door against the wall. Feliciano burst in happily, completely unaware of the tension-strung atmosphere. In his arms he carried a large stack of canvasses, some empty and some filled. On top of those he balanced a box of oil paints and a bundle of brushes.

"Germany! Look what I left behind!" The Italian said happily, raising the teetering stack.

"I'm always telling you to be more careful of your own things," Ludwig groaned, getting up from the couch. "Come on, we're going back. I'll drop you off at your place." Ignoring Elizaveta's curious stare, he relieved Feliciano of half his canvasses and carried them back to the Kubelwagen. The drive back was silent because Ludwig couldn't stop thinking about what Roderich had said. The words swam around in his heads like puzzle pieces that simply refused to fit together, and that alone annoyed him. His brows furrowed deeper and deeper as he drove, and the frustrated scowl grew so big that even Feliciano dared not to say a word. He simply didn't get it. What did Roderich mean? How in the world was Feliciano not a coward? He just couldn't understand. All his life, strength equalled to bravery, and those with the power to step up and take charge simply had to, because everyone else couldn't. There was no other alternative in his mind, and that was why the German struggled to comprehend what Roderich was trying to convey.

"Ve~ Thank you for the lift home, Germany!" Feliciano said as he clambered out of the Kubelwagen.

"You're welcome, Italy." Ludwig replied as he collected the Italian's things from the back and brought them up to the front door. "Training tomorrow starts at 8am sharp, don't be late." Actually, training started at nine, but he had learnt a long time ago that if he wanted Feliciano to show up the same time Kiku did, he would have to give him an earlier timing. Ludwig felt uncomfortable lying to Feliciano, but it had to be done.

"I won't!" Feliciano vowed, unlocking the door and retrieving his things from the German's arms. "I'll be there on time, don't worry Germany!"

"Well then, I'll be going now." Ludwig stepped back to close the door, but he was stopped by a small body flying out of the doorway and wrapping its arms around his torso in a tight hug. He sighed and draped his arms around Feliciano's body for a moment before stepping away from their usual goodbye hug. "Sleep soon." Then he made the long drive home.

In the end, Ludwig showed up at the training field at eight, despite knowing that he would have to wait at least an hour for his allies to arrive. Perhaps it was atonement for deceiving Feliciano, or maybe he just wanted some quiet time to himself. With his brother making a racket in his house, Ludwig couldn't concentrate enough to put two thoughts together in his head. Out here, where no one else was, he could finally concentrate on the matter that had kept him up half the night. Why would Ivan declare war? It was true that the man could be scary and slightly… cracked, he had been his usual self during the last few meetings and showed no signs of discontent. Had any of them inadvertently offended him? Or had something happened that finally pushed him over the edge? Either way, motives aside, if war really did break out, Ludwig was sure that he would be involved in it. What about Feliciano? What would he do? Ludwig wouldn't even entertain the notion of letting the Italian surrender to Ivan, and that was what would happen if Ludwig allowed him on the battlefield. He hated to think of it like this, but Feliciano was like the weak link in his chain- a chink in his armour. But was that truly a bad thing? Feliciano was more than just his ally, he was Ludwig's closest friend. And heavens help him, Ludwig would protect him till the very end. It didn't matter that Feliciano could only seem to drag him down, or that he was so incapable of taking care of himself, but there was something about the man that numbed the logical bit of him that knew Feliciano was nothing but a deadweight. Besides, he was a really, really, good cook.

"Germany-san."

The voice broke his train of thoughts, and Ludwig looked at the one who had spoken, then at his watch. "Japan,"Ludwig said, slightly surprised, "you're early. It's only 8.30."

"The roads were less congested than I thought they would be," Kiku explained, "and I'd like to properly apologise for missing the training exercise the other day."

"It's fine," Ludwig waved a hand dismissively, "you can't help being sick."

"No," Kiku insisted, "I should have taken better care of my health, knowing that we had a training exercise on that day." Ludwig shrugged and relented, knowing that they could keep this up all morning until Feliciano came, if they wanted to. "Have you heard about Russia-san?"

Ludwig nodded, "I have, Austriainformed me of it."

"When the time comes, I will fight by your side if need be." Kiku pledged, and the quiet determination that he said it with eased some of the turmoil within Ludwig. It would be nice to have back up on the battlefield, because even though he had faith in his own abilities, Kiku's skills were a force to be reckoned with as well. "But what of Italy-kun?"

"I'm thinking about that." He sighed, rubbing his crinkled brow with a hand. "I don't know what to do with him."

"I'm sure Prussia-san would look after Italy-kun if you asked." The Japanese man said benignly, "He seems rather fond of him."

"Please," Ludwig scoffed derisively, "as if I'd trust mein bruder with him. I'd be more worried than if I'd left Italy alone."

Kiku seemed to have a different point of view, "Prussia-san may be reckless, but he cares for Italy-kun and wouldn't knowingly put him into real danger." Ludwig frowned, seeing his friend's point, but that didn't ease his worry one bit. Perhaps, it would be fine to trust them for a change, but how could he ever be completely at ease? Yet, if he were to sit out of this war and Ivan (God help them) won, then it would be worse for Feliciano. Fighting alongside the others would give them a better chance of putting down the Russian than fighting alone. His mind was made; For Feliciano, he would fight, even if it meant leaving him behind for who knows how long.

Their training commenced promptly at 9.17am when Feliciano finally arrived, hastily spilling apologies as he tripped over his loose shoelaces. After Ludwig managed to calm him down and sort out those untied menaces, he immediately put them into unforgiving drills and exercises, more so than usual. Kiku remained stoic, taking whatever the German threw at him and throwing it back deftly, but it was a completely different story when it came to Feliciano.

"Germany! Can I take a sies-"

"Nein."

"Ve, Germany I'm really tired. Can I-"

"Nein."

"Germany! There's a pizzeria just down th-"

"Nein."

And finally, at 1.15, when the bright sun beat down unforgivingly on their sweat covered shoulders, Ludwig relented. "Fine! We can go inside for a short break, but we have to start again at 3, okay?"

"Thank you Germany!" Feliciano cheered, immediately perking up and running for Ludwig's house at an amazing speed. He was at the door in a matter of a minute, with an exasperated Ludwig and a secretly amused Kiku in his wake. When they caught up with him inside, they found Feliciano sprawled over the cool kitchen tiles, seemingly asleep.

"Italy¸ what the hell are you doing?" Ludwig demanded.

"I didn't want to get your couch sweaty, so I decided to take a siesta on the floor." Feliciano explained vapidly, not bothering to open his eyes or get up. "Besides, it's cold." The German sighed at his words and bent downwards to grasp him by the forearms, tugging him into a sitting position.

"And you'll get sweat on the floor at this rate." He said, straightening.

At this, Feliciano shot upwards and apologised, "I'm sorry, Germany."

Following that little incident, the three allies sat down at Ludwig's table, each with a cup of cold water and an empty plate. The German, knowing that Feliciano would have begged for a snack eventually, had the foresight to prepare some sandwiches and wurst that morning, and he laid them out on the table. The first few were quickly snatched up by Feliciano, while Kiku took his time and went through his usual routine of thanks. Once their bellies were all full, Ludwig sat up and cleared his throat. "Italy, I need to tell you something."

"What is it, Germany?" Italy asked, oblivious to the mood that had befallen on their little part of three.

Ludwig glanced down at his hands, then back at Feliciano's clueless face. This would be harder than he thought it would be, especially knowing what he did now. "I'm sure Romano's told you about the new problem with Russia." The sound of a small gasp forced the German to look at his friend, and he was shocked to see that tears were already pooling in those warm brown eyes. "Veneziano-"

"Y… You're leaving?" Feliciano stammered, "But I didn't think that you'd- I never thought that you would- Leaving?" His hands were trembling even though he had them clasped firmly on the table. The Italian's eyes were fixed onto Ludwig's, but as compelling that stare was, Ludwig knew that Feliciano was not seeing this for what it was. No, the smaller nation's mind had brought him back into the past. "No way…"

"Veneziano, listen to me." The German man pleaded, hoping that the more intimate use of his name would snap him out of it. The intent backfired in his face as the use of that name seemed to push Feliciano deeper into his memories. "It's only for a while, Italy. I'll be back before you can even blink."

"Don't go, Germany!" To his surprise, Feliciano flung himself from his chair and clung to Ludwig's shirt, burying his face in it. "Please, please don't go! Stay with me!"

"Veneziano, I have to go." The German murmured sadly, "Russia has to be stopped. Once he is, I'll come back."

The hands that gripped his clothes only tightened as Feliciano turned his pleading eyes towards Ludwig's, who couldn't help but feel guilty when he saw the streaks that the tears had left behind on his cheeks. It was for his own good, Ludwig thought, strengthening his resolve, he was doing this for Feliciano. "The last time," Feliciano choked out, "the last time someone said that to me, he never came back."