Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and probably never will. Sad day.

Eroberer

"Ludwig, Ludwig!"

Ludwig's left eye pulses for the fraction of a second before he represses the annoyance of distraction, and with the sigh of a wearied man, he brings his eyes up from battle plans and the enemy's casualty counts and all that will make this new Germany great.

Feliciano is twirling in the shadows of sunlight, lips parted wide; his laugh rings out like silver, cool and pure.

Ludwig regards his ally for a long moment, unable to tear his attention away from such childish beauty.

One day, Ludwig will conquer all of the world. He will rise and his name will live forever, spelled out in the stars; his name will be etched into the books of history and it will span the entirety of the map.

This is what his boss tells him.

Ludwig does not doubt.

He is not supposed to doubt; he is trained to believe, trained to kill, trained to conquer.

But he knows, and this is just as bad as doubting, for he knows it will never happen. He will rise and rise, but he cannot take the entire world.

Ludwig is a soldier, from the blood on his hands to the macabre satisfaction of a kill, from the polished roughness that resonates in his voice to the stiffness of his posture.

Feliciano is not a soldier.

Feliciano is a lover, from the warmth in his timbre to the lazy delight in his steps, from the blatant disregard for war to his fear of death.

Feliciano is the flawed rebel, full of mirth and dancing and song.

Ludwig is the perfect Aryan, full of determination and blood and silence.

With his determination, Ludwig conquers nations.

With his mirth, Feliciano conquers hearts.

And for that, Feliciano is the greatest conqueror of them all.

Author's Note: I wrote this a long time ago and just had it sitting in a folder. It was lacking something, so I never published it, but it still feels like it's lacking something. Please review and tell me what you think! Some input would be helpful.