HETALIA BELONGS TO HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA
ALL PEOPLE REFERENCED TO HERE WERE REAL HISTORICAL FIGURES.
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 both turned around to leave.
But France stopped, when the breeze blew, taking some of the dust away and making something buried under it cry.
Napoleon frowned in confusion. France returned to crouch in front of Holy Roman Empire's remains.
A baby!
He removed the clothes she (it was obviously a girl) was tangled up in, shook off some of the dust staining her.
Nation and emperor shared a shocked look, and then France resumed walking, leaving Napoleon behind.
He wasn't entirely sure about this and couldn't believe that France was actually thinking of keeping that child, but France understood his reasons. He didn't need his approval for everything.
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.
Sighing through his nose, 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.
It was then when he noticed those bloody clothes were not completely empty.
A child, a boy, was under them, like hidden or abandoned. No surprise he hadn't seen him before: he was fast asleep, not moving, not making a sound. Even after he awoke when Prussia picked him up, all he did was yawn and move his tiny hands like he was grabbing the air.
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.
1815
Vengeance was sweet, though Austria was a gentleman and didn't give France the humiliation he made him go through and he probably deserved. He just took everything he could from him.
The child wasn't initially in his plans. He was even surprised to find her. She looked nervously at all the soldiers, her hands joined, her lips sealed. She was obviously not France's daughter or sibling—Austria thought he had heard he had found her after killing Holy Roman.
The girl kept her composure when Austria placed his hand on her chin and made her look at him, and then examined her face for long. Though she was scared, she was not going to make a scene. He liked that.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"...Liechtenstein, sir." She replied in a church mouse's voice, with a Germanic accent.
Austria replied nothing. All he did was offer her his hand. Liechtenstein, understanding, took her.
"I'll take you to your new home." He said in their common language.
The first time the two children saw each other was in one of those fatuous balls at the Confederation. Austria insisted in making them these way—too much for someone like Prussia, who thought that etiquette was some kind of French dog breed.
"Him and Germany will come looking like they just came from plowing the fields, I am seeing it..." Austria sighed, walking in circles around Liechtenstein. She believed she was ready, but apparently not: he removed a fluff from her shoulder, readjusted one of the hairpins which kept her hairdo in its place, made her correct her posture.
"Germany's Prussia little brother, isn't he?" Liechteinstein asked.
"Yes, that's what he claims he is."
Liechtenstein looked at Austria and was a little sad to think that she had never heard him introduce her as her little sister.
"He is around your age, so you can play if you want, as long as you don't make a scene." Austria severely told her.
Though, like always, it was Prussia who didn't know how to behave at these kind of events. Since the very moment he walked into the palace, he was making hurtful remarks and stealing all the snacks. On the other hand, his little brother stayed in a corner, his arms behind his back, not making a sound, just speaking when he was spoken to. He seemed well groomed for the occasion, much to Austria's relief.
While he was dealing with Prussia making comments about his latest battles, the two children, in opposite sides of the room, exchanged a look.
How curious...
However, they never actually approach to exchange a word. Liechtenstein felt too shy to do that, and Germany didn't seem much more comfortable with the idea, either.
They did nothing but stare at one another for the whole evening, just thinking...
1866
There came a moment when Austria and Prussia couldn't be in the same room anymore. Liechtenstein stopped seeing the boy because he was the enemy now. Well, Austria's enemy. She had declared herself independent and neutral on this matter, but still maintained relations with Austria. And because of these relations, she took her 80-men army and went off to defend the Tyrol from Italy, who, in Austria's words, was 'a dirty traitor'.
She was nervous, that's the gospel truth. She knew her army was tiny (she had 20 more people back at home and that was it, that was her whole military power), and she wasn't very strong..., but she wouldn't let that horrible Italy lay a hand on any German!
However, she was glad that all she had to do was stand in there and keep her eyes open. It seemed it was others who did the fighting. She got a messenger warning her about the end of the war one day, with Prussia's victory, and she guessed it was time to go home and forget about all of this.
"Adults are very complicated...I don't like fights...War is a very bad thing...Now that I am independent, I think I'm in my right to declare myself permanently neutral. Yes, I don't want to fight, ever, for anyone! Nor Mr. Austria nor Prussia!" She told herself. She would soon send all soldiers back home and never draft anyone.
She was on her way back home when a storm surprised them. They ran to a near forest to shelter from the rain, though that didn't seem like a solution at all.
A carriage passing by stopped and its driver looked at them with great curiosity, just as much as Liechtenstein looked at him, at the funny curl in his hair.
"Ciao! Are you having a picnic?" He asked.
She was so distracted by it she almost forgot to reply.
"Uh, no, we were caught in the storm..." Liechtenstein said.
"You shouldn't be here. I think I've seen thunder, and this is the last place you want to be in if there's thunder. And look at you, you are walking soups! I know of a place which isn't too far away, where you can dry yourselves and eat something. I think there might be room for all of you." The stranger told her.
"If you could tell us where it is, we will be so thankful."
"Tell you? I'm taking you!"
He helped her get into the carriage and drove, her army following.
"Thank you so much, sir." Liechtenstein said.
"No problem, miss. I hate to see a bambina so wet and cold."
Yes, the cold breeze was making her tremble. Noticing this, Italy removed his cape and place it on her shoulders.
"Thank you."
"My name is Italy." He smiled.
Italy...
A small frown appeared in the child's face. Something that Italy didn't miss.
"...Miss?"
"Hm?" The girl turned her eyes at him.
"Are you alright?"
"...Yes..."
Her heart had just done a very weird thing...It probably was the carriage clattering...
"I'm Liechtenstein." She introduced herself.
"Liech...ten...stein..." Italy repeated slowly, in order to make sure he pronounced it right. "It's a pretty name!"
"D-Do you think so?" She blushed.
There it was again, that feeling inside of her chest...
The place wasn't really that far, they got there after a small trip. It was a large tavern, and indeed they could host all of them. Liechtenstein sat by the fire and ate the food Italy ordered for both of them. So what are you doing here?, Italy wanted to know. Liechtenstein didn't want to spoil things by telling him the truth, but she didn't have the heart to lie. She wasn't a good liar, anyway. So she said war, and it turned out Italy found war scary but fascinating, and asked her if she had killed many enemies. She said no, not even one, and Italy was glad she didn't stain her pretty hands with blood. This and some more comments made Liechtenstein giggle, the clock move faster. Is there a word for a friend you have just met but feels like you have been together for all of your lives? When she noticed, the storm had given way to a bright sun, the fire was consumed and she was more than dry and ready to go.
But she didn't want to leave again...
(again?)
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Liechtenstein." Italy smiled at her, when they were about to leave. "Have a good trip! I hope you can come visit some time in much better circumstances!"
Liechtenstein bit her under lip.
"...Uhm...I was wondering, Mr. Italy...Could you...? I mean...Would you...like to come with me?" She said, feeling how she had trouble breathing and her cheeks burnt. "You have been so nice...I would love you to see my house and stay for a few days...If you're alright with it..."
Italy smiled widely at her proposal, making Liechtenstein feel like the skies had really opened.
"I'd love to come!" He replied, and it sounded like the angels had descended from Heaven to her.
So her prince was left with a mathematical riddle. How can someone leave with 80 men and return with 81?
1871
Romano and Veneziano had just undergone unification, meaning they had moved together. Germany was old enough to start diplomatic relations on his own, without Prussia tutoring him. 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. Though his military and economical expansion had made a man out of him and had made him serious (though everyone had always said that he was born an old coot), he was still 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."
The name that had been on his mind for a very long time. He had been ruminating on it for long and he was back at it.
Italy.
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.
Veneziano's heart skipped a beat.
That face...Those eyes...
Last time he had seen those, were in a portrait. The portrait that someone very dear to him had sent him to let him know how he had grown, so next time they saw each other he would recognize him...
"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 man. 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 person 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.
1940
Liechtenstein, without an army of her own, in her tiny space and modest economy, always guided by others—now Switzerland, someone she could finally call 'Big Brother'—, remained small, childish. On the other hand, Germany kept growing, even after some believed they had stolen his chances. He had grown and he planned to grow even more. Even at the expense of his neighbors.
"Switzerland is disgusting. Everything he represents is wrong. He can only be your enemy." Hitler told him.
And he agreed.
"Once we get rid of all those people bothering you, you can invade him and steal all that precious land wasted on him." His boss continued.
Him and Italy. He had insisted quite a bit on this point: Ticino, Valais, and Graubünden for him.
...And he couldn't say no to Italy, as much as he protested.
"And that little sister of his, Liechtenstein..."
Germany rose his eyes at Hitler.
"She's mostly useless, I suppose she can disappear and nobody will care." The man said.
"The child will be for me." Germany suddenly, decisively said.
Hitler seemed a little surprised. "What do you intend to do with her?"
Yes, what?
"...She can be my maiden." Germany replied the first thing popping into his mind.
He just couldn't hurt her...She was surely very scared already, seeing all those war planes flying over her house, the accidental bombings she and her brother suffered...
Liechtenstein's prince sent congratulatory letters to him every time his operations succeeded. He really wanted them to win..., or maybe just protect his nation. Either way, he didn't lay a hand on Liechtenstein, ever.
They saw each other again in one of these diplomatic visits, and the difference between them was overwhelming now. An adult and a child. A man and a girl...Cruelty and innocence...
She was scared of him, like everyone else. He didn't want her to be.
"Why are you doing this?" She wanted to know.
"...I want to be respected..." He replied. "...You don't understand..."
Respected, so nobody made a fool of him. Respected, so his beloved had nothing to fear. Respected, so he was worthy of...
Liechtenstein fixed her green eyes on him, and for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he was shown a smile.
"I think I do."
He couldn't hurt her...
Nowadays
Although those Confederation get-togethers were a thing of the past (thank heavens, because nobody could stand Austria as a host), the Germanic nations still saw each other during the summits. Liechtenstein was trying to strengthen her diplomatic relations with the countries, and so Switzerland allowed her to come with him and sometimes let her fly alone, so she gained confidence.
Perhaps one day she will get big and strong too, Germany thinks, looking at her...
She holds his gaze. For a long while, all they do is gaze at one another. The one who was always there, in their lives..., in their thoughts...Like something inherent to themselves.
Their eyes turn to the man who starts shouting.
Italy has tangled up his curl in the ficus decorating one corner of the room and they have no idea how.
Germany rolls his eyes and runs to help him. He always comes in his aid the very second he sees him in a predicament. Liechtenstein observes as he carefully untangles him, though that doesn't save Italy pain and protests a lot, to which Germany asks him to shut up. However, as soon as he is free, Italy is all smiles again and thanks Germany almost as if he saved his life. Germany is a bit overwhelmed by his effusiveness, but doesn't complain. He is obviously glad he helped.
Liechtenstein feels a strange pressure inside her chest seeing them, seeing that, with the years, they not only haven't lost touch but seemed closer and closer, in a way she can't even dream about...
There is time to be informal. Portugal plays music on his phone and Italy likes it enough to dance.
Liechtenstein is close and he grabs her into a dance. Of course, she doesn't refuse.
And Germany looks at them both, feeling a little envy. Children get away with everything...He treats her with such sweetness and care, like she is made of glass...
Italy keeps on dancing alone while Liechtenstein sits back, giggling. Both her and Germany look at him and smile in a way they don't normally.
They look at one another once again, and their smile widens.
THE END