Disclaimer: You know, I'm really feeling lazy about this right now. No own APH.
Clip, clop, clip, clop.
England groaned, rubbing his back as he stretched as best he could on top of his horse. Then he slumped, before attempting to stretch again. There was a loud popping sound, and England slumped again into his seat, giving up. He would have to subject himself to a very, very sore back.
Don't get him wrong; England loved horse-back riding as much as he loved horses, but right now he was nursing a sore back and sore ego. Right now horse-back riding wasn't so appealing. Now he really wished he'd brought the car. Oh, that's right. England griped to himself. You did. Cars just can't travel the unpaved paths of this forest!
So why was England riding on a very uncomfortable horse down a bumpy forest path in the first place? Well, let's think… it all started with the rumor about a lost grandson of Rome's…
"Geez, those Southern Italians are always so grumpy!" America complained, watching the Italians hiss and spit at him.
England rolled his eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken you here in the first place!"
The boy groaned, flinching when he caught the glare of a small, angry Italian. "Why didn't you take us to Northern Italy? They're so much nicer!"
While England started arguing with America, on the inside he was thinking. Why were the Northern Italian's so different from the Southern Italians? Romano was the same as the Southern Italians; rude, lazy and cowardly. However the Northern Italian's were infinitely nicer; they were honorable and fiercely loyal, a bit cowardly and laid back. England couldn't help wondering why they were so drastically different. He figured he'd asked Romano later.
"What do you mean?" Romano asked, glaring angrily at England.
"You're not stupid, Romano, you know what I said. Why are Northern Italians so different from Southern Italians?" England sighed impatiently and tapped his foot, waiting for Romano to respond.
Romano stared at England, looking as though he were trying to read exactly what England was thinking. The examination continued for several minutes, making England feel extremely uncomfortable under Romano's scrutinizing gaze. Finally, Romano dropped his eyes and sighed, gesturing for England to sit down. As England got comfortable, Romano shut his eyes and took a deep breath.
"When I was younger…I had a little brother."
England's mouth dropped. "Wha…what?"
Romano snarled angrily at England. "I hate repeating myself! I just said I had a little brother!"
England rose up his arms in an 'I surrender' position. "Sorry, continue."
Romano took a few breaths to calm himself before continuing. "My grandfather loved my little brother—he was…sweet, and loved to paint. Grandfather took my little brother called Veneziano with him somewhere—I'm not exactly sure where…but when grandfather disappeared…so did my little brother. I'm certain that where ever my little brother is, he's Northern Italy."
England stared at Romano, whose hands were folded in front of his mouth, and his eyes, usually so spiteful, were full of sadness. "I looked for him for years…so long…but I could never find him."
England was so touched by the story…who knew Romano, the spiteful, spitfire, Italian would go looking for his younger brother…England stood up, a fire burning in his eyes. "I'll find your brother, Romano." The Italian looked up in shock, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. "I promise."
England had looked everywhere, until by chance he'd glanced through some old records from an English traveler who'd gone to Italy. He'd read, "As I stayed in the little village, I heard rumors of an immortal monster who lived deep in the forest. I did not look for the monster, so as not to tempt fate." It was one of the biggest leads he'd gotten, and he wasn't about to let it go. Now he wished he hadn't promised to find that elusive little Italian.
That's when he spotted it.
A little town that wasn't on the map, which was hidden deep in the woods where no town should ever be. What on earth…?
As he approached the gate, he spotted a young man with coppery brown hair sitting in the chair, his eyes closed and seemingly oblivious to the world. As England approached, the teen's head whipped toward him and a smile brightened his face. "Hello!" He called, waving England over. "What're your intentions in the village?"
England frowned, a little confused by the question. Why…? Oh, this person was probably here to guard the village. "I'm here for knowledge, and to satisfy curiosity."
The Italian stared at him, finally opening his eyes (reddish amber) and staring at England in a disturbingly familiar stare. Now where have I felt a stare like this before…? England wondered, squirming under the searching gaze.
"Alright, you can go in! If I catch you doing something you weren't here to do…" The Italian closed his eyes and gave a rather creepy smile. England nodded, his mouth twitching, before entering.
He was greeted with cheerful waves and curious stares; obviously this village didn't get many visitors. As he searched for an inn, he heard someone call to him. Turning around, he saw it was the same strange boy at the gate. "Hello, stranger! Do you need someplace to put your horse and stay for the night?" He asked, tilting his head pleasantly. "I have a room!"
As soon as the teen had acknowledged England, the rest of the villagers converged on him. "Where are you from?" "What's your name?" "Who are you?" "What do you do for a living?" "What's the outside world like?"
England stared at them with wide eyes, and then looked at the young man who had started it all. "Who exactly are you?" He wondered out loud.
"I'm this village's protector!" The man said, placing a hand to his chest. "If I trust you, then everyone else trusts you!"
England vowed to stay very close to this man.
As England dug into the delicious Italian food, he glanced up at his host. The man had his eyes closed in pleasure, and was devouring his pasta as quickly as America devoured his hamburgers. He gulped down another forkful of pasta, and then noticed that England was staring at him. He shifted slightly, and offered, "My name is Feliciano! Who're you?"
England grasped at the conversation starter. "My name is En—Arthur Kirkland. I research mysteries and legends."
Feliciano smiled. "Really? What are you looking for here?"
England swallowed down another mouthful, wishing he'd gotten Romano's brother's name, before continuing. "Well, I heard tale of an immortal beast living here, and decided to come looking." Feliciano paused for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes. "Immortal…beast?"
England was quick to reassure him. "Honestly I don't think it's a beast—I think that people were frightened and exaggerated."
The Italian calmed himself, though he looked a little pale. England was relieved; the last thing he needed was people thinking that the person who was Northern Italy was evil!
"I'll tell you something; I've actually been researching these 'immortal beasts'" England made finger quotes and 'immortal beasts' "For quite some time; I get the impression that they represent a country, as a country. And as long as the country survives…so does the person." England shrugged, looking into Feliciano's wide, disbelieving eyes. "Anything's possible."
England had been staying for two days, pouring over old records in the villages and hearing talk and gossip, when it happened.
He and Feliciano had been at the front gate, 'guarding' (England wasn't really sure there was much to guard) the little village, when several men on foot showed their faces. The walked tall and proud, but had a mean look to them. England and Feliciano were instantly on guard. As the men approached, Feliciano rose up from his chair and called to them, "What business do you have in this village?"
The leader smirked. "Just bandits, no need to worry."
Feliciano narrowed his eyes. "Then I'm afraid I can't let you through."
England rose to support Feliciano, but was pushed back down by a surprisingly strong tanned hand. "Not unless I need help." He murmured.
"Oh, does the little guard think he can protect his measly little village? We're big, strong bandits! You're outnumbered!"
Feliciano drew a silver staff from under the chair, and England blinked in surprise; he hadn't seen it at all during his stay.
"You guys stay back; I'll take care of this trash."
Feliciano watched coldly as the man came at him, brandishing a large dagger. The dagger was extremely sharp, and actually seemed to be good quality. England knew that if it hit Feliciano, he'd be cut up like butter. That's when the Italian shot England a friendly, reassuring smile, leaving England stunned.
Feliciano knocked aside the clumsy stab, leaving his enemy wide open. He flipped the staff, and it slammed right into the man's groin. As the man fell to the ground, Feliciano flipped his staff again, and it slammed onto the bandit's head and knocked him out cold. This happened all in less than 10 seconds. The audience gaped.
"Get him!" Roared one of the bandits, and they converged on Feliciano, only to be knocked aside. In only seconds, the bandits were beaten down, and incapacitated.
England stared, before sitting down hard, not even remembering when he'd first stood up. "I…I think I'm going to need a drink.
And suddenly England realized where he'd seen that stare before.
"How…how did you do that?"
Feliciano shifted uncomfortably, folding his hands against his lemonade, watching as England downed another glass of brandy.
"You know…I…trained a lot…"
"Oh, you sure trained a lot. You trained for over 500 years!" England slurred, brandishing his glass like a weapon into Feliciano's shocked face. "You're Rome's lost grandson, I'll bet! I been looking all over for you, you look just like your brother!" He'd really hoped to keep it a secret longer, but his stupid, influenced brain was not thinking about the consequences at all.
"How did you know?" The Italian squeaked, not bothering to hide it.
"I'm England!" He shouted loudly. "You look just like your brother, yeah? He's worried sick about you, we all are! You need to come…and…visit!" England finished the rest of his brandy and passed out.
Romano sighed, staring at the paperwork he was supposed to be working on. All he was thinking about—and could think about— was his little brother, whom he hadn't thought about in a long time. He hadn't had to think about his little brother, since he'd buried the faded memories and feelings deep into the back of his mind. The memories were too painful, since he'd never been very nice to his little brother, and he was still extremely guilty about that. Sighing again, he picked up his pen and attempted to get back to work.
And was promptly interrupted by a knock and the door.
"Who's there, goddammit?" Romano howled, throwing the pen at the desk.
"V-Veh! I'm sorry, should I come back later?" A timid voice squeaked back.
"No, you're already here! Just come in!" Romano put his head in his hands, not looking up as the person sunk into the chair in front of him. "Who are you and what do you want?" He asked blandly.
"Um…This is where Mr. Arthur told me I could find you—ah, I mean…England."
Romano's head shot up, and he found himself staring into two vaguely familiar, quizzical reddish-amber eyes. Feeling his own greenish eyes narrow, Romano let out a growl. "Who the hell are you?"
The little Italian blinked and blushed, looking down at the floor with a shy expression on his face. "Um…Mr. England told me…that I…had a brother…and that I was North Italy?" North Italy—Veneziano—looked up at Romano with hesitant, questioning eyes.
Romano's mouth opened slightly, and it only took a minute for his eyes to fill with tears. "'Eziano…?" He whispered, tears slowly beginning trickle down his face.
Feliciano began to panic. "Mi Dispiace! Mi Dispiace! Eeeee!" He leapt from his seat, beginning to back away, waving his hands and spewing out apologies. Just as he was about to leave, he found himself caught in a warm, wet hug. He was shocked to find that his older brother was crying, and laughing, at the same time. He spoke no words, but Feliciano could feel everything; the worry, the happiness, the years of hurting, wondering when he'd be found…
So this was what it felt like to have a brother.
Laughing and just beginning to cry, Feliciano hugged his brother back and pulled him close. "I'm home! Sorry to keep you waiting!"
Aw, *wipes tear away* brotherly fluff.
Okay, so the reason the Feli is so brave when he's protecting the village is one reason and one reason alone: before Rome left, he left Feli close to a village; namely, our little village. The villagers accepted Feli, as long as he protected them from danger. To keep his promise to the villagers, Feliciano had to get brave and actually protect the village. Feliciano, as you can tell, is still much a coward dealing with other people and their feelings. His fears also cripple worse than fears would other people.
Nothing else, I think…
Grazie!
IceEckos12