A/N: hey people!

This is another idea I've been thinking about. What if Germany isn't Holy Roman Empire? What if he was actually the son of Holy Roman Empire?

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

"Do you remember when you were young?" Italy asks hopefully.

Germany looks up from the book he had been trying to read. "Of course I do, Prussia raised me."

Italy shook his head. "No silly! Before that."

"Before that?"

Italy nods. "When you lived with Austria."

Germany sighs. "Italy, I never lived with Austria."

Italy smiles as well, a secret sort of smile.

"Yes. You did."

Prussia shakes his head as he downs the rest of the beer in his cup. "Poor bastard."

Germany looks up from his own beer. "Who?"

"Italy of course."

Germany sighs as he looks into his cup. "What should I do?"

"Is there something you can do?"

"Maybe…tell him the truth?"

Prussia shakes his head. "The truth might break him."

"So what will you have me do?" Germany asks aggravated. "Keep pretending to keep him happy?"

"No let him figure it out on his own."

Germany slumps in his seat. "That's the thing. I don't think he ever will."

Italy giggles as his fingers go through Germany's hair.

"I wonder…do you still have that little cap you used to wear?" he asks.

"What cap?"

"You know that little black cap you used to wear. You also used to wear long black robes as well. I could remake it for you if you want me to."

"That's not necessary, thank you Italy."

Germany walks slowly through his attic. Like every other room of his house it is carefully kept, clean room, and everything is labeled in its correct box.

Everything is labeled except for one box; it is completely in the back and nearly falling apart.

Germany kneels down in front of the box and glides his hand over the top, wiping away all the dust.

He carefully opens it and extracts some of the materials in there.

A long black robe comes out, smelling of old age and of being kept away for so many years. The fabric itself was as soft as he remembered. He knew that if he pulled it on at the moment he would fit him perfectly.

His hand goes back into the box and this time pulls out a hat in perfect coloring with the robe. Also in the box were letters, an old sword, a painting of a small maid sleeping in a chair, and a deck brush.

The last possessions that remained of the Holy Roman Empire.

Of his father.

They looked completely alike. The same characteristics, the same coloring, the same everything.

The Holy Roman Empire himself only had the appearance of a teenager so the two were most of the time mistaken to be brothers rather than father and son.

However they paid no attention to the others. They were not important.

Germany sighed as he put the objects back carefully into the box. He pushed the box back into the farthest corner of the attic before leaving it once more.

"Father?"

Holy Roman Empire looked up from his notes and smiled at Ludwig.

"Yes?"

Ludwig walked up to him with one of his books in hand. He then gave to his father and followed with his best puppy dog eyes that his uncle Gilbert had taught him. "Read to me?"

Holy Roman Empire laughed before picking up both his son and the book.

"You can stop with those dog eyes, though I should kill Gilbert for teaching those to you, you know I'll read to you if you want me to."

Ludwig smiled and snuggled closer to his father. "Thank you father."

"It is my pleasure."

"Do you want me to wear that maid outfit again?" Italy asked.

Germany froze for a moment wondering if Italy had found the box hidden under the floorboards under his bed filled with the toys that Prussia had given him again.

"What maid outfit?" he asked carefully.

Italy laughed. "You know which one silly. The one I wore when we were younger and I worked for Austria, remember?"

Oh that again. Germany felt himself relax; Italy hadn't found that box again. Then he inwardly groaned. This again.

"Italy I don't know what that dress looks like for starters. And for second thing, you are a man."

Italy nodded not really paying attention. "But you do know Germany. You liked it too. And that doesn't matter; both Romano and I wore dresses when we were younger."

Germany sighed. "Whatever you want Italy."

Ludwig was sitting on his fathers lap. He reached up and took the hat his father loved and placed it on his own head. He grinned when it covered his eyes obviously too big for him.

Holy Roman Empire chuckled as he pulled the hat back slightly and allowed Ludwig to see.

"There's something I want to tell you Ludwig so please listen to me." he said softly.

Ludwig immediately looked up at his father.

"If something should happen to me I want you to go to Gilbert alright? You are to live with him from then on."

"Why? Is something going to happen." worry started to coil in his heart.

Holy Roman Empire smiled. "No, nothings going to happen. But just incase I want to know that you are being taken care of, understand?"

"I understand."

"Promise me that you'll go to Gilbert if something shall happen to me?"

"I promise father."

"Italy…we need to talk." Germany finally said.

Italy looked up from the pasta he was making. "About what?"

"About what you think I am."

Italy smiled and turned back to the pasta. "There's no need, I know who you are."

"No, you don't."

The harshness in his voice was enough for Italy to turn off the stove and look back at Germany.

"Then what is it?"

Germany sighed. "First things first. Italy. Who am I?"

"You're Germany." he said. "But you weren't always Germany. You were once the Holy Roman Empire."

Germany shook his head. "Italy…I can't be the Holy Roman Empire."

Italy's smile started to fade slightly. "I know you are though, you look exactly like him."

Germany nodded. "I know I do, that's because I am his son."

Italy's arms fell to the side as shock spread along his face.

"…What?"

Germany swallowed the lump in his throat. "I am… the Holy Roman Empires…son."

Father once told me about Italy. The personification, not the land. He told me that she was someone he loved entirely. When I first heard that I was kinda jealous. I was a kid and most of all an only child. I didn't want anything to take away my fathers attention from me. So I had asked him who he loved more, me or Italy.

He had laughed and said the love he felt for Italy and the love he felt for me were two different things entirely. He loved me as a son but he loved Italy as his soul mate.

I didn't really understand but I allowed him to continue.

He told me that when the war was over he would ask Italy once more to join them. He was so hopeful that she would say yes.

The war did end. My father fell right in front of my eyes, taken down by France who ran a sword through him. I had done exactly as he had told me. I had run to Prussia.

He never got the chance to see Italy again.

When I met Italy for the first time I remember the first thought that had run through my head.

'Father was wrong, Italy wasn't a girl but a guy.'

And then something horrible happened.

I fell in love with Italy.

Germany sighed watching the place where Italy had been mere moments before. After telling the truth Italy had run off out of the house.

Germany walked to the stove and checked on the pasta he had been cooking. Seeing that it was ready he drained the water and tipped the pasta itself into a separate bowl before pouring the sauce Italy had made beforehand on top of it.

He remembered something suddenly. Something he had read a long time ago in a book. In the bible of all places actually. The entire thing he couldn't remember. He could only remember one sentence.

"Sins of the father suffer the child."

I think that ending is rather weak but I also think its fits. Oh well.

I hope you guys enjoyed this story.

Questions? Comments? Leave them in a review.

Until next time.

This is Phoenix-Fire Power over and out.