ItalyxHRE I Always Will

The auburn haired italian looked around the plaza in front of Austria's manor, nostalgia striking him like a tidal wave. He wasn't precisely sure why they were here -- he had fallen asleep during the meeting of the Axis -- but he was glad to be back. It had been too long since he had seen Ms. Hungary and Mr. Austria.

Something about it felt strange though. Germany had stayed home, saying that he had other important buisiness to attend to with Prussia. It was a very rare occasion that it was just Italy and Japan on a trip. It was not only that, though. Japan was being strangely quiet, even for his typicaly solemn nature.

Italy climbed the steps to the door, amazed at how much smaller they felt compaired to when he worked here as a child. He reached and lifted the ornate door knocker. He released it with a thud that could be heard throughout the mantion.

A speaker above the door clicked on. Austria's voice echoed out into the plaza. "Italy and Japan? Ah, it's good that you made it. Please show yourselves in, we're in the piano room."

Before the speaker turned off, Italy thought he heard a faint sob. This filled him with concern, so he hastily pulled the door open and ran inside. He ran down the long hallways, echoing memories chasing him as he went. The painting that he had decorated with a mustache. The closet with the heavy Christmas decorations. Everything came flooding back as he turned the corner to the piano room.

Austria sat in front of the grand piano, his expression pained. For the first time in Italy's memory, the pianist's slender hands were still, the piano silent. Hungary sat on the stool next to him, her head on his shoulder. Her back and shoulders shuddered as quiet sobs filled her body.

"Ve, Ms. Hungary?" Italy said hesitantly as he entered the room.

Hungary turned to look at him. Her face and eyes were red from crying. There was a dark spot on Austria's jacket where her tears soaked into the fabric. "Italy..." she gasped, "Oh, Italy..."

His name escalated into another wave of sobs as the distraught nation stumbled towards Italy and fell into a hug.

"Ms. Hungary!" Italy exclaimed, alarmed, "what's wrong?"

Hungary had to take several shaky breaths before she could form the words she needed to speak.

"Italy... W-we found him. We found the Holy R-Roman Empire."

Italy felt numb. Holy Rome was found? But Hungary is crying. That can't be right, unless... No, no, it couldn't be...

Italy looked around, fear and sorrow filling his chest. Hungary continued to cry into his shirt. Austria stared at the piano keys, clearly fighting to not spill tears of his own. Japan stood by the entrance to the room, staring at his shoes.

"No... No, he can't be... he-he promised me! He promised he'd come back!" Italy yelled, backing away from Hungary. Japan moved to put a hand on Italy's shoulder, but Italy flinched away. He looked one last time around the room before turning and running outside.

Italy scoured his memories for everything that Holy Rome had told him about the war. He ran the direction that his armies would have taken, following long dead battle lines.

For the first time, all of Germany's training began to pay off. Italy soon lost track of how long he'd been running, and though his chest burned he was able to keep going. Clouds formed overhead, and rain began to fall. But still Italy pressed on.

He reached the final battlefield. At one time it might have been awash with blood and bodies, but now it was a simple grassy field, life retaking the death that had marred it centuries ago. He'd heard it so many times, this is where it ended. This is where Holy Rome... This is where he died.

If Italy had continued running for the rest of his life, it would have hurt less than admitting Holy Rome's death to himself.

His feet carried him now, almost out of his control. The wet grass bent and squeaked in the wind, but he didn't notice. He walked and walked, not sure where he was going, not sure what he was looking for.

Then he saw it.

On the edge of the field, the top of a white granite cross poked up over the grass. Italy staggered towards it, shivering violently from the cold and rain. Even after all those years, the stone had hardly worn at all, only the sharp corners being weathered away.

"It could be anybody's, he might have survived," Italy murmured, choking back tears. But when he was close enough to read the engraving, any fleeting hopes he had left were shattered.

I love you, Italy.

Italy let out a stangled cry. He fell to his knees, sobbing. "No! You can't be dead! You promised me! YOU PROMISED!" He wailed, pounding on the ground in front of the cross. Italy felt hot tears mingle with the cold rain on his face. He collapsed, falling to his side at the base of the headstone. He stayed like that, crying, until he gradually drifted to sleep.



"Italy."

When this war finally ends, I promise I'll come see you again.

"Italy."

You'll always be my most favorite in the whole world!

"Italy! Wake up!"

Italy awoke with a jerk. Prussia and Germany stood over him, looking down with concern.

"G-Germany?" Italy whimpered as he sat up.

"Come on, you could be sick from being out in the rain all night. Let's get you home," Germany said, helping Italy to his feet. The German rested his hand on Italy's shoulder, guiding him to the car that was parked a short ways away.

Prussia lingered behind, one hand resting on the arm of the cross. "You were a brave little guy. I'm sorry that I didn't get to pay my respects earlier," he said quietly.

Prussia joined Italy and Germany in the car and they began the drive home.

A pale face and blue eyes emerged from beyond the cross, looking out to where the car was slowly vanishing.

"I...Italy? Don't go, I kept my promise. I'm here Italy!"

But the car was gone. The Holy Roman Empire sighed sadly, the emotions of his youth returning in full. He turned back the way he came, vanishing into the air.

"I've seen you so many times since I left, Italy, but you can never see me. I'm here, I really am, and I still love you. I always have and I always will."