HETALIA BELONGS TO HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA
Italy pressed his lips.
"A-And don't get hurt, o-or sick, all right?"
The lips that had just been kissed for the first time...Tears were falling from his eyes, seeing the responsible for that go away.
Holy Roman Empire swallowed, but didn't stop walking towards the exit.
"We'll see each other again! We will! We really will!" Italy exclaimed.
This was what finally made Holy Roman Empire turn around to look at Italy one last time. His eyes became watery, not able to hold back the tears any longer.
"No matter how many hundreds of years go by, I'll always love you more than anyone in the world!" He shouted, raising an arm towards his beloved.
1806
There was little left to do here. Holy Roman Empire was done for. Lying on his stomach, he tried to reach for his musket and failed. Blood was oozing from his parted lips. A pitiful sight France wasn't completely indifferent to—after all, though they had never been friends in the strict sense of the words, they had known each other for many centuries.
He turned his gaze towards Napoleon. He gave him a nod. That helped him make up his mind.
"I'm sorry, Holy Roman. But you're in my way."
He stood above the fallen boy, held his musket vertically. The bayonet shone when a ray of sun hit it.
Holy Roman Empire trembled, whimpered. France didn't like it when they lost their courage in their last moments, it insulted his high sense of dignity. Come on, Holy Roman, be a man in the face of death.
But Holy Roman Empire was finally able to mutter loud enough for him to understand what he was mumbling:
"Italy...!"
France stopped. That almost made him change his plans. But again Napoleon fixed his eyes on him, encouraging him to finish what he had started. Why showing mercy now? He was surely dying. All he could do at this point was end the suffering.
He had promised himself that no one would ever stand in his way ever again...No one at all...
Even though he tried not to think, he thought of Italy when he stabbed Holy Roman Empire between the shoulders, right in the heart.
Holy Roman Empire didn't even whine. He just went limp. And, in front of France and his emperor, dissolved into dust.
One more reassuring nod from Napoleon, who placed a hand on his shoulder and walked away with him.
Prussia showed up about half an hour later, when he was sure that France and his army had already left the scene.
"Holy Roman!" He called among the piles of Germanic corpses his men were dragging away to give them proper burial.
And he found him—his clothes, among a pile of dust, a pool of blood fading under the sun.
The usually jester Prussia got very serious. Solemnly, he removed his hat. Seeing him, his king and his men did the same.
"...France has really gotten strong..." William III said, after some minutes of silence.
Prussia nodded. And dangerous, he thought.
He couldn't waste time in here. There was nothing he could do for Holy Roman Empire. Only use what he was seeing as fuel to fight harder, not to end up like him.
Sighing through his nose, Prussia put the hat back on and turned around to leave.
But he stopped, when the breeze blew, taking some of the dust away and making something buried under it cry.
William III frowned in confusion. Prussia returned to crouch in front of Holy Roman Empire's remains.
A baby!
He removed the clothes he (it was obviously a boy) was tangled up in, shook off some of the dust staining him.
Nation and king shared a shocked look, and then Prussia let out a chuckle.
"Well! Will you look at that! It seems someone has already replaced you, Holy Roman!"
He had no idea of how to hold babies, his king had to correct him.
"It seems I found myself a little brother..." He smirked.
Poor boy, William III thought, smirking. But who knew? Prussia seemed to have grown fond of the child already. Perhaps he would make the effort to be a good big brother and all!
"Nursemaid Anna is pregnant again. She's got good milk. Yeah, she could do. The best titties, just for you. Perhaps she won't mind sharing, would you mind sharing them with me?" He was hearing him talk to the baby, rocking him in his arms to get him to stop crying.
Not that he trusted him one hundred percent, but Prussia would sure try...
France had conquered Italy. Romano hated having to fight for him from then on. Veneziano, on the other hand, had mixed feelings. Sure he didn't like being anyone's underling, but it was Big Brother France, and he treated him reasonably well. Instead of just feeding him on scraps, he was invited to eat with him at his table.
"Back when the four of us were your grandfather's provinces, and you and Romano were babies..." France was remembering, a glass of wine on his hand. "Ah! Good times, those! Now look at us..."
Yes, look at them. Spain's and Portugal's empires were crumbling, England was a dangerous rival, France was close to achieving what Grandpa Rome had built...
Veneziano's eyes turned to the soaked bandages all over him. Yes, he was fighting hard for it.
Was it worth it? His own instincts told him it was, and he should have been fighting to obtain it. His memory, however, brought him the image of Grandpa's scarred back, the pain he hid from everyone and only he witnessed...
"I don't want that to happen to you..."
Holy Roman...
It had been so long...
Veneziano rose his eyes at France.
"...Do you know what became of Holy Roman?"
France stared at him for one second, swallowed the wine inside his mouth, placed the cup on the table then looked away.
"I haven't seen him in centuries. But you did see him, right?"
France didn't reply in very long.
"Ah...Sorry, the Holy Roman Empire is no more..." He finally said in low voice.
Eh...?
"You should forget about him. You've already suffered enough, haven't you?"
France wanted to keep on eating in peace. Italy didn't let him. He didn't touch his food. Just kept looking at him.
"...How?"
France still refused to look at him.
"...A long sickness..." He replied.
And that was the last thing he said about the matter, and in the whole night.
1871
Italy had just undergone unification. Germany was old enough to start diplomatic relations on his own. Being so close on the map, it was just natural and advisable to get to know each other and get along as well as they could.
Germany looked through the window of the carriage transporting him and his chancellor von Bismarck to Italy's house, mesmerized by the Mediterranean land, so different to his in some aspects.
"They can get a little...enthusiastic. Don't worry, it's just their personality." Von Bismarck was telling him.
Germany nodded.
"Romano and...Milano?" He tried to remember.
"Veneziano."
"Right. North and South..."
"Italy."
A small frown appeared in the child's face. Something that the chancellor didn't miss.
"...Germany?"
"Hm?" The boy turned his eyes at him.
"Are you alright?"
"...Yeah..."
His heart had just done a very weird thing...It probably was the carriage clattering...
The carriage stopped in front of the palace, where King Victor Emmanuel II was awaiting the Germans along with their nations.
"Welcome, welcome." He said, opening his arms.
Otto von Bismarck was the first to hop off. The next was the nation, who he helped get out.
Veneziano's heart skipped a beat.
That face...Those eyes...
"Veneziano."
He blinked, noticing that his king was bringing him back from his daydream, because the guests were standing right in front of him, offering their hands to shake, and he had his head somewhere else.
"This is North Italy, though we call him Veneziano." Emmanuel II introduced him, since he was saying nothing.
Italy...
I would have sworn you were a girl...Didn't Mr. Otto tell me you were?
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Veneziano." Germany said, offering him a hand.
A lump in his throat prevented Veneziano from replying. He bit his under lip—the lip he had kissed so, so long before.
"The pleasure is mine, Germany." He drew a smile. A bright, sincere smile.
He didn't shake his hand. He kissed his cheeks instead.
A brief moment in which he tried to find him in this child. He wasn't sure if he did, or if it was just that he desired to see him.
...Yes...That was probably it. He was gone, and this little boy was not him.
So this was probably what his boss had warned him about, Germany guessed, but it didn't make it any less embarrassing.
It made his heart bounce again.
THE END