Author's Notes:

I found myself craving some cheap Germany/Italy, so I made some. It… didn't turn out too bad, I think. Even though the first and second parts seem like pasted-together sections of completely different fics. Also, I'm worried I may have made certain characters more or less serious than they really are… well, the fic itself kind of arbitrarily swings from moody to fluffy. I also had trouble figuring out how to end some segments, and you'll probably be able to tell, since they drag on a bit. Well, I'll let you be the judge regarding how good it really is. But be warned: there's some goofy anachronisms in this fic that I didn't catch till it was too late. I mean, they might fit with the right justification, but... well, this is a plot/character-centric fic, not a history-centric one. Still doesn't excuse the lapses, though...

As usual, comments and criticism are very much appreciated.

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I'm standing on a battlefield.

The first thing I'm aware of is the chaos around me. Soldiers- presumably ones that should have been under my control- are running amok, shouting and shooting seemingly at random. The second thing I notice is the snow. It seems that my troops are already standing on a good few inches, and more is coming down by the second. It's not quite a blizzard, but it's definitely not just flurries, either. The flakes sting me as they land on me; it is bitterly cold out. The colors of everything seem washed out. There's only the white and gray of the snow and the deep green of soldier's uniforms. It's a very stark and inexplicably disturbing palette.

Needless to say, something hasn't gone according to orders. I immediately feel a pang of worry as I always do in these situations. These men are showing an astounding lack of discipline. If they don't stop this foolishness and follow the plans to the letter precisely as they were given, the problem will only get worse. I start giving orders: Resume formation! Cease fire! But they won't listen to me. Anxiety is beginning to pull at every part of me.

Suddenly, my mind is invaded by a terrible thought: Italy is in grave danger. No one has told me anything- I just know. Well, Italy landing himself in all kinds of trouble is nothing new, but this time, the feeling is distinctly different.

I take off in an undefined direction. The shouting of the mad soldiers is getting louder. I'm being shot at, but nothing is hitting me. Explosives go off, launching massive clusters of snow into the air. After a few minutes of just running, running, running... I finally find him.

He's collapsed onto his side. He's not even this still when he's sleeping. He rolls over to face me, showing me that he has stained quite a bit of snow with his blood. The deep, rich red contrasts sharply with all the drab colors I had seen up to this point. Normally, something like this is nothing to me, but this time I feel a little ill. His voice comes out sluggishly, as though he has to drag it out of his throat. It is feeble and languid- very much unlike the voice of the Italy I know.

"Germany... I..."

I am unable to say anything to him. I wait for him to continue, but I am met with only a protracted silence. I look down at him, then up into the sky and the snow. Something- a primal scream, a roar, something- wells up inside of me, a rage unlike anything I've ever felt before. I have failed my mission. Worse yet, I get a feeling that there was nothing I could do about it. I didn't even say goodbye to him. Before I even come close to fully processing what just happened, I feel an impact on the back of my head, and everything fades to darkness...

...Or not. It's more like everything fades to my ceiling. One of my dogs has jammed a foot into my side. I guess I should be thankful. Some dreams just shouldn't come to their "logical" conclusion. It must be very early in the morning, since the sun is nowhere to be found. I try to go to sleep, but that image won't stop following me: Italy lying dead in front of me, his blood on the snow...

Ugh. It's definitely not something I can sleep off. Tomorrow's going to be a rough day.