Chapter Four: Shattered Bonds
All the remaining Nations withdrew from the snug living area, now contaminated with the Estonian's death. Latvia stuck by Russia's side, now alone without Lithuania and Estonia, he felt small and powerless around the stronger country.
Romano and Italy held one another close as to protect each other, so they didn't become torn apart like America and Canada had. Their hands were laced in one another's, the younger now sombre and quiet, frightening his older brother and the blond German; as they were so used to Veneziano being so chirpy despite being in difficult circumstances. To see him so run down was strange to witness.
Everyone walked in silence, out of respect for those they had lost, but also because no one knew what to say. Commiserations were in order; however, it did not seem like the right time to say anything, in case anyone else was caught in the spectre's spat.
Soon, they stumbled upon another door; entering with caution, England checked that the coast was clear of the two. Once he was sure that the two deathly figments were not in the room; he signalled for the others to go in.
It was a bedroom with a rich cream and red colour scheme. A grand four poster bed stood against the centre of the right-hand wall with plush cushions. Of course, just as they had done in the living room, the two Italians hopped onto the bed and relaxed into the comfy duvet, small sighs of content escaping them.
"Ve~ This is so nice." Italy sighed happily, snuggling into the covers of the bed. Romano nodded in agreement, a soft smile on his face for a change.
Then, a gunshot fired.
"Sacré bleu! They're back!" France yelped, ducking on the floor; his blue eyes wide in fear.
"Don't be stupid, Frenchman. It was me." Switzerland spoke, slipping his handgun back into its holster. "Italians. Get off the bed. Liechtenstein needs to rest." The Swiss male looked to the girl, her green eyes seemed dull with tiredness and upset. Her normal bubbly attitude had gone astray as she had witnessed the other's murders.
"Aww. The little bambino needs a rest? Okay, Switzerland." Italy grinned, and got up with Romano.
"Danke schön." Switzerland gently led Liechtenstein over; as soon as she touched the plush duvet and pillows, her eyes shut, falling asleep in an instant. The elder male sat beside her, brushing her hair out of her face tenderly, the stern look remained on his face, despite a soft blush.
The others settled down in separate parts of the room, Germany and Prussia on the lookout should the spectres return. Everyone was tired, panicked, and grieving. None of them wanted anyone else to die in the brutal ways that the others had. England was muttering soft prayers to himself, as were the Italians; their hands clasped in front of them tightly in worship and penance.
A few minutes later, the group heard a clash from outside the room. All of them glanced toward the door; everyone knocked out of their prayers and thoughts, as they expected the worst. The large door then splintered as the two ghosts burst through into the room.
"Shit! They're back; get out of here now!" England yelled, taking control, escorting the others out of the room, alongside America.
"Liechtenstein, wake up!" Switzerland harshly whispered to her. The young girl woke with a start and jumped up from the bed; only to stumble as the ghost of Pirate Spain flew past her and collided with the window in the room, shattering the glass allowing a biting wind to flow through the room.
Switzerland took her hand and began to run to the doorway; unfortunately Pirate England, who seemed to disregard their existence, crashed into them, pushing Liechtenstein away from the Swiss male.
The girl squeaked as she was forced back; gasping as her back met the window-ledge. Spectres England and Spain dashed past her with enough intensity to cause her to fall backwards out the window. Liechtenstein's delicate hands gripped the serrated stone; small trails of blood trickling down her fingertips, staining the pure white cuffs of her dress.
"Liechtenstein, take my hand!" Switzerland called as he leant out the window and reached out to her. The girl looked up with tear-filled eyes, pushing herself up and taking his hand; he held onto her tightly and attempted to pull her up. "I know I prefer to be neutral… but help me. For Liechtenstein!" The Swiss male called to the others over his shoulders, desperation evident in his voice. Hungary dashed over and grasped Liechtenstein's arm to pull her up.
The next sound would haunt Switzerland for the rest of his life; Liechtenstein's usually quiet voice let out a loud screech as the two felt a pop in the girl's arm. They hurriedly pulled her up; Switzerland took her into his arms and set her down on the floor against the wall. Vash cringed at the sight… Liechtenstein's left arm had been dislocated; her shoulder clearly not where it should normally be.
"Switzerland, Hungary! Look out!" America yelled to them as he saw Pirate England throw a small blade at the Spaniard's ghost, only for him to dodge it and the dagger was now flying in their direction. The two looked up, Hungary made a leap for it…but Switzerland didn't.
However, a few moments later…
"N-No… NO!" A voice called. The Nations glanced up, eyes widening in shock, cries escaping a few of them as they realised what had just happened.
"S-Switzy…" Liechtenstein's tiny voice quivered in pain and fright. "I-I'm sorry…" Her emerald eyes gleamed with tears. "I didn't mean to be so much trouble…"
"You weren't any trouble Lili…" Switzerland wept; his olive-green eyes bloodshot from crying. No one had ever seen the Swiss male cry before… this was the first time.
"Vash…" Liechtenstein smiled weakly at Switzerland, a tiny blood droplet running down her chin, staining her snow-white face. The young girl had been hit in the stomach by the dagger; it pierced her skin and buried itself in her flesh.
Switzerland gritted his teeth and then pressed his lips to her forehead, pulling her close to his chest. "I can't lose you… I just can't…" He cried; Liechtenstein reached up, and wrapped her arms around him.
"I'll always be here… in spirit…look inside your heart Vash… I'll be there…" Liechtenstein's grip loosened and her voice lost its volume. "I… promise you… Ich… Ich liebe dich…" With her final words, her life dissipated and fled her physical body. Switzerland laid the girl back against the wall and pulled his jacket off; he placed it over the girl's upper body and got up.
Vash's face had stiffened into his usual scowl; he pushed past the group. "Let's go."
Everyone followed him; they all knew he was distressed… but due to his neutrality he wished to hide it.
The group kept walking through the castle; still trying to find the way out but they only went deeper into the looming darkness of the old building. Switzerland stayed toward the front of the remaining Nations; he was hiding his bloodshot, red, puffy eyes from the others as to further dignify his neutrality. However, the others knew that the Swiss male was in distress, from the way his shoulders shook.
Austria, as Switzerland's past friend, took it upon himself to walk up to Vash, and speak to him.
"You know… there's no point in hiding your emotions all the time Switzerland. We've all suffered grief today. You can let it out." Austria spoke, his words comforting yet seemingly dark as if he were scolding the Swiss boy.
"There's no point to grieving at a time like this. All we need to focus on is getting out of this place so no more lives, like Liechtenstein and the others, are lost. Of course, Liechtenstein was special to me and I don't want to forget her… but I'll grieve later if I survive this ordeal." Vash looked to Roderich. "What do you care anyway? You hated me for a while…I became neutral because of you… so…just don't talk to me Austria." The Swiss faced away from the Austrian and continued to walk; his teeth gritted as he held back more tears; he wished to stay neutral without the depending on others.
Austria's face remained emotionless, his lips forming its usual line. Hungary took the Austrian's hand, who peered down at it, before looking to the Hungarian in confusion. "Hungary?"
"I can tell you're hurting Mr Austria. There's always a faint glow of emotion in your eyes despite the rest of your face staying the same. Switzerland is still young…he'll learn soon enough that losing someone is difficult and it's important to not hold in your grief. Because what I learnt is that you are not a man if you cannot face your emotions head first. Vash…is thinking that by hiding his emotions he seems stronger… but it will only bring him more heart ache in the future. Lili's birthday… the day of her death; each year his grief will grow stronger and it will earn him more pain. Don't give up. You need to bring him out of his shell. Let him cry on your shoulder; be his friend as you used to be." Hungary finished, her face gleaming with a passive smile, a sense of gentleness emanating from her as she spoke. Austria was taken back and gave Hungary a small peck on her cheek and held her hand tight as they continued to walk.
"Thank you, Hungary…That helps me in a great number of ways." Austria hummed happily, his lips curling into a small smile. The Hungarian blushed and placed her other hand on the Austrian's arm.
"I'm glad I could help."
"Is this the door where we came through?" Italy squeaked as they all stopped and looked up at the grand, yet familiar door.
"It's got to be…Why else would it be the same door?" Spain spoke.
England squinted, "Somehow…I doubt that this is the door we're looking for."
"You're an English bastard, so keep your mouth shut!" Romano growled, his teeth bared and clenched tightly together.
"Romano! C'mon man! Give Iggy a break! What's he done to you anyway?" America cried out in annoyance that a fight was starting for no reason.
The Italian was annoyed and pissed off, as usual, "He hasn't done anything in particular but I just hate him…he's a bastard."
England crossed his arms and sighed, used to the older Italian's abuse. "It's fine America; don't waste your time on such a pathetic little nation."
"Pathetic?! Who the hell do you think you're talking to? I'm a descendant of Ancient Rome! What about you England?"
"I was once the British Empire! I controlled a lot of the world at one point if you must know!"
"Well, look how that ended! You fell apart not very long after!" Romano smirked, clearly proud of himself.
"Neither did your grandfather! At least when my Empire fell I didn't die along with it, it proves that ALL Italians are weak and useless!"
"You BASTARD!" Romano lunged at the Brit, but was grabbed by Spain. "Let me go! I want to smash this bastard's brains in!"
"No way! That's so cruel amigo!" Spain yelped, trying to keep a grip on the furious Italian.
"Italy?" Germany spoke soothingly, but with concern. Everyone looked around to find the younger Italian sitting on the floor, his head in his knees.
"…Grandpa died in a war. He came back covered in scars…I remember that time, the day he died…" Italy whispered; his bubbly tone now sombre and afraid. "Don't think that anyone is weaker than you because each nation has their own strengths. Even if it isn't in warfare like Germany or Britain." Tears flowed from his amber irises; "Grandpa Rome…" Italy stopped talking and clutched to the body of heat that had knelt in front of him, opening their arms to hug him.
"Sorry…I'm sorry fratellino… Veneziano, look at me." Romano had pulled away and gazed at his younger brother crying, wiping his tears away with his fingertip. "I didn't mean to hurt you… Shit…I really am a horrible brother." The elder Italian looked as if he was about to cry as well.
"You aren't Romano…you're the best grande fratello I've ever had!" The two Italians held one another tightly, Italy; calm and sombre, Romano; quiet and gentle.
Germany and Prussia stood together; they were siblings as well so they understood the Italians' issues.
"G-Grazie…" Romano gave his little brother a watery smile as a few final tears drifted down his cheeks. The elder Italian got up and offered his hand to his little brother; helping him up and taking him to Germany. "Listen Germany…If I don't make it through this… promise me you'll look after Veneziano."
"Romano? Don't say that!" Italy shook, gripping his older brother.
"We have to face the truth right now, Feli. So, what do you say potato-eater?"
The German nodded, ignoring the insult for now. "I promise you."
"I'll help out too~ I adore our little Ita-chan~!" Prussia grinned and ruffled the younger Italian's hair. Italy smiled and snuggled into the Prussian.
"As much as this is a heart-warming scene can we please go through this door and see where it leads please?" Austria spoke.
"I agree. We need to make sure that we can escape these ghosts of our friends." Russia spoke, smiling sadistically as per usual.
Romano nodded and grinned once more at his little brother before he went to open the door…only to…
"Romano!" Italy cried.
Everyone's faces went deathly pale as they witnessed the sight. They saw Pirate Spain cackling, as Pirate England growled back at him, while holding a sword which went through Romano's stomach; the elder Italian was looking down at the razor-sharp blade that was piercing his lower abdomen.
"S-Shit… This is crazy… As soon as I ask someone to protect Veneziano…ugh…I d-die…" Romano coughed violently, crimson liquid splattering on the floor. The Italian then began to scream as the ghost began to drag the blade up his stomach, the gash expanding as it went further up the male's stomach and chest. Romano fell back when Pirate England retracted the blade from his stomach.
The little Italian ran to Romano's side and knelt beside him, cupping his cheeks. "N-No... Romano… Please don't die!" Italy began to cry; his face becoming tear-stained once again.
"Veneziano…don't worry about me. I-I'm just joining the others. Stay safe please, Feliciano…" Romano whispered as his life faded away, his olive eyes dulling. Italy nodded and rested his head on Romano's shoulder, continuing to weep. "Veneziano…you know that you may feel run down when I die...?"
"Si…I know." Italy sniffled sadly, sitting up. Romano and Italy leant close to one another, their hands tightly entwined together.
Romano coughed again, "By doing this…you'll get the rest of my energy…I'll pass faster but it will keep you going until you get home to rest. You'll need to take siestas more often now so you can recharge…" Excessive red fluid flowed from his wounds onto the icy stone.
"Rest well Lovino…I'll miss you grande fratello."
"I'll miss you too fratellino." Romano gave a shaky smile.
Spain knelt beside Romano as well, and grazed his fingers over the Italian's sun-kissed skin of his cheek. "B-Buenas noches mi amigo," the Spaniard spoke; tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
The elder Italian looked up at him, smiling weakly as a breathy chuckle escaped him, "Y'know…despite you being a tomato bastard…I'm gonna' miss ya. Ti amo Antonio~"
The Spaniard's face flushed a light pink at Romano having said his human name; the Italian had never called him that before. Antonio leant in and pressed his lips to Romano's, who kissed him back gently. Romano and Spain bid each other their final goodbyes, before the Italian closed his eyes and his head fell to the side.
The younger Italian continued to weep having lost his big brother; he held the now lifeless body in his arms and gritted his teeth. Spain did the same; resting his head on Romano's shoulder, he sobbed as well.
Germany then walked over to his small Italian and picked him up into his arms; Feliciano clung to Ludwig for dear life as he stained the German's forest green jacket with his tears. The blonde, usually so caring about his appearance, did not mind how he looked, he just wanted to console and protect Italy…that was all he cared about.
Spain got up and went over to France and Prussia; the Trio held one another tightly, trying to cheer Spain up yet allow him to grieve.
England knelt by Romano's body, "Spain. May I have your uniform jacket?"
The Spaniard complied silently, by handing the tan jacket to the Brit; who then laid it over the still Italian.
"We need to find the way out...Now." England spoke sternly. His emerald irises hidden as he marched past the body down the hallway; the others followed along.
"Britain. Do you think we'll ever get outta' here?" America asked, dashing to England's side as he walked away, walking beside him.
"Despite us becoming engulfed in the castle walls…I think that we'll escape. I certainly hope so…as to allow the fallen Nations' deaths to not be in vain. We must escape no matter who dies…" England opened his eyes; his emerald irises burning with revenge and determination. America swallowed anxiously and tried to take England's hand, only for the Briton to swipe it away.
Romano had been lost…due to the exact same reason that Liechtenstein, Estonia, Canada and Lithuania had been lost as well.
Author's note:
First chapter of the night! The second chapter will hopefully be up within the next hour to make up for my screw up last week.
I remember when I first wrote this, it actually killed me writing Romano's death; he's one of my favourite characters, besides England and Canada.
Anyway, hopefully this chapter has made up for my mistake; enjoy reading!