A/N: So, just to tell you all who have read my other works…this is quite different than anything I've written so far (if the title didn't give you enough of a hint). First off, it's historically accurate—at least for the most part—I have taken some liberties with a few things just for the story's sake, but for the most part it's history-based. Secondly, this will definitely be much darker than anything I've written on here before so it might not be everyone's cup of tea.

Saying that, I'm rather happy with it, at least. And I hope that others may enjoy it.

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"Grandpa Rome?"

Anywhere else, the sound of a child calling for someone named 'grandpa Rome' would probably have earned some curiousity. At the very least, someone would have turned to see who in the world was talking.

However, at this point, the few humans that were darting down the streets had more important things to worry about than a pair of children wandering aimlessly through the chaos.

"Grandpa Rome?" the slightly smaller child called again, his chubby fingers reaching out to wrap around his brother's hand, squeezing tightly as he gazed around the unfamiliar part of town.

The older brother was scowling, attempting to keep his own fear from showing on his face. "Keep quiet, idiot. We don't want to attract attention."

"But, fratello, where's Grandpa Rome? What if he's hurt?" He sniffled loudly, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

Romano didn't answer for a moment, feeling his stomach twist at the idea. Was that why everyone was running around in a blind panic? Had Rome finally fallen?

"I said not to call me that. That language doesn't even exist yet," he scolded instead, using their entwined hands to draw his brother closer to his side. "Keep up or we'll get separated."

His brother sniffed again, but obeyed, forcing himself to keep moving forward.

Romano wasn't even sure where he was leading his brother. All he knew was that he had to keep him away from any others of their kind… He could tell that there were others around. Grasping at the collapsing Roman Empire with greedy hands.

He just had to keep Veneciano—Italy—safe. That was all that mattered.

"Keep up. Keep up. We need to get out of here." They could go down south, maybe. Hide there until some other emperor came to power who could push all of these invaders away.

He was startled suddenly, as the tight grip on his hand disappeared with a scream of "Grandpa!"

"Idiot!" Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't lose him. "Damn it, get back here!"

But Veneciano wasn't listening. He was instead stumbling every few steps as he wove through the humans' legs.

Romano followed as quickly as he could, pushing at the people who got in his way. "Move it, bastards!"

He managed to force his way through the bodies and then froze in horror as he saw what had caught Veneciano's attention.

Their grandfather was lying on the road, his eyes closed and the front of his toga entirely covered in blood. Veneciano had dropped beside him and was sobbing, covering Rome's chest with his tiny fists as if it could press the leaking blood back into his body.

No.

No, damn it!!

"Grandpa Rome! Veneciano!"

He started to take another step forward and then froze, feeling an indescribable feeling of dread pass through his entire body. An unexplainable, unknowable emotion of utter terror…

Veneciano. Veneciano was in danger…

He whirled around, his instincts immediately alerting him to the origin of the threat. His small hands clenched instantly into fists. There was no way that anyone was going to hurt his brother.

He wanted to run when he saw who it was… Germania. Standing with that usual stoic, emotionless expression behind him. A bloody dagger clutched in his fingers.

Romano automatically moved to stand between the man and his little brother, his gaze captured by the dripping dagger. He knew that Grandpa should have never trusted him. He knew it!

"You are the Roman Empire's grandsons…"

Romano felt his stomach twist in terror at the icy words, his feet instantly taking a step backwards toward his brother, who was ignoring the man in favour of attempting to resurrect their grandfather.

"You are the Roman Empire's legacy…" The voice was still so empty. His expression never changed as he took a step closer, his fingers tightening around the dagger.

And that was when Romano saw his eyes.

They were filled with unshed tears.

"Rome is doomed," he murmured, his eyes still set on the child standing in front of him. "The Roman Empire will not be able to recover from the wound I gave him. Within the next decade, he will fall."

Romano could do nothing but stare at Germania, part of his mind vaguely aware of the sound of his little brother sobbing.

He was going to be killed. It was the only thought that managed to make its way through the tangled mess that was his mind. He was going to be killed so that this bastard could steal Grandpa Rome's inheritance.

Somehow, the thought didn't terrify him as much as it should.

Except that Veneciano shouldn't be here. Veneciano had to live so he could make Italy strong again.

"Bastard!" he suddenly exclaimed, his hands fisting in the cloth at his sides. Germania's expression flickered with a touch of surprise at the sudden exclamation before returning to its usual immobility. "Fucking bastard. I thought that you were friends! Why did you kill him?" He took a step closer, forcing himself to cover his terror with anger. He could only protect Veneciano if he kept himself from giving in to fear.

"He was growing too powerful," Germania answered after a moment. "Even an empire should know that there is danger when we overstep our boundaries." He shifted his knife to his opposite hand and took another step toward the child. Romano forced himself to keep standing tall and not flinch.

"You're brave for a little one."

"And you're a bastard."

It probably wasn't the best idea to taunt someone with a knife, but since he was about to die anyway, he figured it didn't really matter.

"Fratello!"

He'd been expecting the word for a while now, but he still winced and glanced back toward Veneciano, who was now standing and staring at him and Germania in horror. His front was almost entirely soaked in blood, his hands coated in red gore… It horrified Romano to see him like this, even if he knew it wasn't his blood…

He hurriedly shook his head furiously as Veneciano took a step towards them. "Veneciano, get out of here."

Of course, he ignored him—Romano hadn't even considered the fact that his brother would actually obey him—and ran forward, throwing his arms around his older brother and burying his tear and blood-drenched face in his chest. "No, fratello. No. Don't."

Germania hesitated, a little startled by the sudden motion. Then he just remained standing there, eyeing the two children in front of him before glancing over at his enemy's barely-breathing body. These children were the last remnants of his best friend…worst enemy's… culture. If he killed them, he would entirely destroy the Roman Empire… Destroy everything that Rome was and could someday be…

He made the decision. In his own mind, he knew that there was no other choice he could make. After a moment of silently gazing at them, he slid his knife back into its sheathe and then spoke softly. "I won't hurt you."

The remark was sudden. Both of the younger nations immediately turned their faces toward him, Veneciano's grip on his brother slackening slightly as Romano's hold only tightened.

"What?"

It was the last thing he could do for Rome. It was the last thing he could do for his once best friend. "I promise that you won't be hurt if you come with me. I'll help you protect your grandfather's legacy. It's the least I can do for him."

Part of Romano's brain automatically shrunk back from the idea. The part of his brain that was decidedly nation. To have to depend on another power…and this power? The barbarians that had slowly been pushing into Grandpa Rome's empire with their weird clothing and disgusting food and horrible smell? But the other part of him—the human part—was desperate. If it meant that he and Veneciano would be safe…

It really was no question. Veneciano was more important than his pride. Although he'd never admit it. "Fine." His grip loosened slightly on his brother. "Fine, bastard. But only if you promise that nothing will happen to us and you won't make us eat any of your nasty food or wear any of your weird clothes or anything like that."

Germania was already feeling like he was going to regret this, but he nodded in agreement. "I promise."

Romano hesitated a moment more, then slipped his arms from around Veneciano and instead held his hand, gently leading him forward. "You'll bring Grandpa Rome with us. I don't care if you say he's doomed. Grandpa Rome won't die this easily."

Germania nodded once, watching the child as he led his brother forward, distracting him from his tears by complaining that he was hungry and Veneciano had better make sure that he doesn't forget how to cook because there's no way he's eating anything the barbarians gave them.

Then he walked over to his enemy's side and knelt down, eyeing the wound with an impassive stare. He knew that it wouldn't be the killing stroke. It would take more than this to kill the great Roman Empire. But it was the beginning of the end. He could never recover after this. And he knew himself that this wound would bring down more than just Rome. He could already feel his own strength starting to drain away with Rome's lifeblood; it wouldn't be long before he would pass his own power on to his child and hope for the best.

..And then Rome suddenly opened his eyes, the motion accompanied by a grunt of pain and a faint grin that attempted to stretch over his face as he saw his old friend kneeling beside him. "You finally did it, then."

Germania refused to answer, forcing himself to keep his gaze away from his mortal foe's eyes…

"Thank you."

But that broke his self-control. He looked up, startled, to see that Rome's expression was oddly serene. As if he was finally at peace… Finally at peace after so many battles and so many wars and so many unnecessary deaths.

"Thank you for protecting them. And thank you for everything…" He attempted to laugh, but it came as more of a choking wheeze. "Germania, if I had to die, I'm glad you were the one to kill me."

And then his eyes slowly slid closed as Germania gazed at his friend…

And a tear finally slid down his cheek. "I'll protect them. I promise."

A/N: Ummm, yes. So, yeah. There it is… Not sure how I feel about it, really. I think I like it, lol. Anyways, so for the most part that was historically accurate + some of my interpretations. I also have a rather complex view of what happens when countries die, etc. and why there are two Italies and a lot of other stuff. (I like to overthink stories, lol, and come up with theories of how stuff happens) So yeah. Historical notes in an incredibly simplified form…

The Roman Empire didn't really fall as most people would think of a nation falling. It kind of more disintegrated slowly and rather painfully. The traditional view of the fall would attribute it to the Germanic tribes, the people of which had been slowly integrating into Roman society for a long time. They were mistreated, treaties were broken, and eventually the Germanic king sacked Rome and declared himself king. Basically, however, nobody can really agree on when the true fall of the Roman Empire is…It just kind of slowly disintegrated as it became more Germanic…

However, the Germanic people did attempt to keep a lot of Roman culture still around. They synthesized it with a lot of their own beliefs and culture (as can be seen by various artifacts in the British Museum, British Library, and V&A Museum… Guess what I was studying this week?)

Hmm, and I think that's it. Anymore questions and you can ask me. It's about as historically accurate as I could get when nobody really can agree on what really happened.

And now to write my paper about the synthesis of Germanic, Greco-Roman, and Judeo-Christian cultures. Woohoo ;P