Supreme PROTALIAN Austrian Knock out Alliance

[venecianovargas]

Victor Emmanuel II of Savoy was crowned King of Italy on March 17, 1861 and that was when things began to spiral forward. Italy wouldn’t lie about being tired. Two failed attempt at becoming independent takes a toll on a nation but officially having a King filled the Italian with energy he didn’t know he had. Perhaps, if they played there cards right, they could finally find independence. Unity was all Italy really wanted. It was all he ever wanted especially after the Congress of Vienna even if it meant hurting Austria to achieve it. He really wished that there had been another way but a nation would have to be crazy to willingly lose control of so much land only because it wanted to be considered a nation as well.

Austria was angry and he had shown it in clearly in his actions. Even after the Austrian had won both wars for Italian independence he still held a grudge. There was no more nice guy and Italy was getting scared that because of his actions the relationship between Austria and he had been severed beyond repair. This was probably one of the reasons why Italy had planned to meet with Prussia, another Germanic nation...Austria’s rival. The small Italian hadn’t heard much on the Prussian except that he was a fierce fighter and that he knew both his brother France and his brother Spain.

Italy’s knew king even pushed him into meeting this Prussian. The tensions between Austria and Prussia were palpable and a war was about to break out between the two and this was the only person Italy could think of finding help. France had been useless compared to Austria and his army. It was as if he had gone to war without an ally or maybe that would have been better? His big brother France had not been doing very well especially with the end of Napoleon. It just hadn’t been the same for him.

Italy made his way through the streets of Berlin unsure of exactly the location he was supposed to meet Prussia. His King had been the one who had arranged this rendez-vous much to the Italian’s protest. He had heard many scary war stories about the Prussian that Italy’s image of the man was a little warped. Like did Prussia have fangs? Or was he insanely huge, big enough to take on five people at a time? The Italian wrapped his jacket tightly around him as he passed by a few more streets.

He glanced down at the slip of paper his King had personally handed to him. This place couldn’t be too much further. It would have been nice if King Victor had sent someone to go with him. Italy let out a sigh. Then again, he understood why he was sent alone. If Austria were to know something else was up his ‘little’ rebellion would be squashed before it even got off its feet. So this was the only means of avoiding that well as long as he had been sneaky enough.

Italy stopped in front of a fairly tall building and swallowed his fear, that had been building up for a while, before entering. His eyes widened in surprise at the place he had been asked to meet the Prussian. It was a bar! The Italian started shaking, everyone was so tall and, his eyes darted from one corner to the other, drunk. But at least they all looked happy. Some were singing, others were chatting enthusiastically about something or other and some where even playing games like cards. It was actually a very comfortable atmosphere besides the fact that they were all speaking German...then again being under Austrian rule Italy had picked up quite of bit the language so his understanding wasn’t too bad.

When Italy had finally come to his senses he realized that he wasn’t quite sure who he was looking for. There were so many people here and they all looked very German. Anyone could have been Prussia for all he knew. What was one of the characteristics that his King had told him to look out for in the Prussian? Did he say white hair or was it blond? Oh no! He couldn’t remember. Nearly being trampled over by a group of merry drunk men Italy had scooted over to a corner lost and a little scared. Maybe Prussia would spot him?

[Prussia]

"Anyone who has ever looked into the
glazed eyes of a soldier dying on the battlefield
will think hard before starting a war."
Otto von Bismarck

1866

Prussia roared with jovial laughter and the whole table went into an absolute uproar from hearing of one of the men's disastrous romantic conquests involving a particularly pretty girl and an attempted wooing by singing drunkenly at her window. The drink and food had been freely passed around for the better part of two hours that evening in celebration of one of the officer's newborn baby. The whole bar was filled with veteran soldiers seeking to share in on the spoils, with a rowdy group of happy Prussians filled to the brim with good cheer and in the presence of good company.

General Field-Marshal Roon patted his nation on the back, chastising albeit kindly for the noise, and stood from the table after only a handful of minutes of gracing the men with his famous presence. Nearly two years after the hugely victorious Second Schleswig War, Roon continued to be desired company. Prussia could barely remember hating the man, but the dislike was still vaguely present. Roon pushed the policy for three years of required military service by every young man and, although Prussia recognized the merits of it, felt it might be a little too much, even with the backing of the Iron Chancellor.

"You haven't heard the best part yet!" Prussia crowed, leaning across the table to the brown-haired soldier with a stubble-covered face. "You haven't told him about the bucket, Lukas!" But Roon had had enough and, with a bemused look, said his departing words to the table. He squeezed Prussia's shoulder, cutting off any last remarks about just what the bucket was full of, and departed with his nation still calling for him to come back and celebrate just a bit longer before the mother's of all the future three-year conscription babies found him. That was when Prussia's eyes caught site of the nervous young man at the entrance not too far away. A head of auburn hair and wide eyes looked about, the boy obviously shaking and seeming to shrink as a few men walked about in a merry yet drunken stupor.

Humming in interest as he recognized the face slightly, a sly grin spreading across his face, Prussia stood from the table. He looked away from the boy for a moment to wave down and tell the soldiers in an affectionate way to shut up, that he wasn't like Roon and that a new future proposition had just walked in. Grabbing his jacket from the chair and a fresh mug from the table, he meandered over to where the young man had been pushed, willingly or not, into a corner.

That won't do,[/i] Prussia thought, not at all. He approached the young man, his jacket tucked under one bent arm, and set a strong hand on the thin shoulder, offering his mug with a grin. "No need to be scared, we're having a celebration!" Prussia rose the mug to his mouth and a took a gulp down before Italy could take it, but offered it once more, the grin widening to show a row of bright teeth but the eyes inquisitive. "Italien, right?" Barely waiting for a response, Prussia turned his head towards the bar and yelled at the top of his voice: "Jörg! I didn't know you were famous in Italy!" The blond-haired man, who looked to have never lost some of the baby fat from his cheeks, turned a bright red and shouted back something about having never been further south than Saxony, but then he was swiftly cut off by having a fresh plate of fried dumplings pushed upon him by the busty tavern woman.

__________

A/N: Albrecht von Roon, Otto von Bismarck, and Helmuth von Moltke the Elder were the head guys in Prussia during this time. X3 King Wilhelm I had basically handed the reigns over to Bismarck as well.

<333[/color]

[venecianovargas]

Italy glanced over at the table that just burst out into uproarious laughter. They looked like they were having so much fun. He smiled. The Prussians knew how to live there life right. It wasn’t often that people in Italy sat down for a few drinks just too casually talk...nowadays it was all planning. Not everyone, of course, but the people who would usually enjoy small moments are losing sight of the true meaning of life. Italy always loved walking down rural streets were he could see small families coming together and actually enjoying their time and being semi-normal by not allowing the Risorgimento to take a toll on their personal life. He knew for a fact that when everything was done and he was united, people could be like this....could be like the people of Prussia.

The Italian had given up on looking for Prussia. The faces were just becoming a blur of strange people that didn’t speak his native tongue. That was when someone began to approach him. The man was quite tall, silver-like hair and the reddest eyes he had ever seen on a person but he didn’t look intimidating. On the contraire, he looked laid-back and...Welcoming. Italy’s fear immediately subsided but who knew maybe this man was actually hiding fangs.

The large hand that fell upon his shoulder nearly gave him a heart attack. He hadn’t been expecting that at all and it took him some time to recover as he tried to relax his tense muscles. Wide hazelnut eyes stared in awe as the other took a good swig from the mug in his hand. Italy was used to wine and he knew for a fact that this was definitely not wine. This was the infamous drink that he had seen many nations drink but had never really tried for himself.

The Prussian grinned once again this time revealing two rows of white pearly teeth and no fangs. He relaxed. This whole time he had been over thinking things, making them seem much worse than they actually were. Italy grinned back, gratefully taking hold of the huge mug and clumsily bringing it too his lips were he tried to mimic the Prussians actions but only succeeded in spilling some down his front. “S-s-si...” Italy managed to squeak in an answer before the Prussian’s attention was drawn to the bartender.

Italy had held back from cringing as the bitter liquid burned his throat going down. This, he held the mug away from him, was some interesting alcohol. He had seen Austria drink some when the empire had been really stressed out. It was quite obvious at this point that the man before him was Prussia without a doubt.

Italy was so overwhelmed with the contagious ambience of the room and the beer was making him feel weird too. Not knowing anyone and finally finding the person he had been looking for Italy stuck to the Prussians side like glue. This was probably the furthest north he had ever been unless you counted France and England but even that wasn’t nearly as fun as being over here. Italy gave Prussia’s sleeve a good tug trying to catch his attention. He was still a little shaky but he was doing a million times better then when he first arrived. The Italian was curious to why everyone was celebrating and didn’t want to go into business just yet. “Signor...Prussia...” Italy glanced around the room a little embarrassed. “What are you celebrating? I mean if you don't mind me asking.” His face flushed at his almost inconsideration towards the others privacy.

[Prussia]

The kid had to be given credit for standing his ground, despite how obviously frightened he seemed, although Prussia was surprised at how the fear in Italy's eyes seemed to vanish at Prussia’s approach. Really, did the Italian know who he was dealing with? But that was probably the point of it all: Prussia had no aggressive qualms with the smaller nation and he had done nothing to cause Italy to want to call him out for a dual. The thought of Italy pointing a gun at him amused him greatly, but although he was not intimidated in the slightest by Italy, he knew the Italian to be a passionate nation who could probably manage it if he really needed to.

Feeling the shoulder tense under his hand, Prussia gave it a light and idle squeeze to show some semblance of support. He would have given Italy a little shake, like he would do with his soldiers to get them to relax, if he wasn't afraid of breaking him. Although living off in the north-east, even Prussia had heard of what was happening to his southern neighbors and knew Italy had been struggling for a long time. Italy continuing to preserve only made Prussia feel a faint tenderness for him, especially when he watched as the beer was taken with a grin and drunk sloppily, soiling the nice jacket the other wore. For lack of a better word, Prussia just about considered it cute. Well, Italy wasn't exactly the most coordinated nation and Prussia was in very buoyant mood, so what was a little lost beer between friendly nations?

Plus there was the fact that the struggle was against Austria, which already prepared Prussia to consider, if not indulge in, whatever the nation had come for. Prussia had never had to fight for his independence but he knew it was a very bloody, violent, and painful business. As it were, Italy looked to be holding up quite well, if still soft around the edges.

The tug on his sleeve--he could have laughed at the childishness of it but this was Italy he was dealing with and knew the nation to be fairly innocent--drew his attention back. "That guy," Prussia said, gesturing with a hand towards the chubby-faced blond sitting at the bar, "had a baby boy born this afternoon." Seeing how Italy was holding the beer away, Prussia slipped his fingers inside the handle and worked the mug back into his own ownership so that he could take another drink. "Babys Vater is proud to share his good news with us, they're"—he gestured wide to the room —"happy to drink and eat to any good news, and I get to celebrate a new Prussian added to my ranks. Plenty to celebrate!"

Just as Italy had done, Prussia looked casually around before lowering his head in close, his mouth near to Italy's ear and his voice in a hush, words heavy with confidence and barely containing his eagerness, he whispered, "Such as your fast-approaching freedom from that pompous ass Austria." His grin had turned feral as he spoke but if Italy saw it, Prussia was not bothered. Nonetheless, he masked it quickly behind the cocky look of a nation that did not fear war.

"Now!" Prussia exclaimed happily, his voice loud enough to compete with the room once more. He patted Italy on the shoulder once, twice, and started maneuvering them towards the bar, stepping ahead of Italy to push a path through. "What would you have to drink? We have the finest beer, imported and home brewed, and then for some reason this lady here," with the tavern girl shooting him a peturbed look but smiled all the same at his arrival, "insists on importing those fruity drinks you Mediterraneans insist on having. Just tell her it's a blessing on the baby and she'll give it half-priced." Accidentally he jostled Italy in his good cheer, laughing at the perturbed look he was given by the woman who didn't object or deny the offer.

[venecianovargas]

Italy did not protest or even resist when Prussia eased the mug back into his hand. He was almost thankful, maybe it was wise just to stick with wine. His gaze turned to the man Prussia had gestured towards. The man looked really friendly and chubby cheeks gave him a fatherly air. He looked as if he had been waiting for a moment like this his entire life. Italy also noticed the utterly happy look that came upon the German man’s face when he thought no one was looking. This caused his grin to widen. It must be such a wonderful feeling...a baby, wow.

Italy glanced back up at Prussia, who also looked just as happy. It may not be his biological child but when one of a nation’s people gives birth it’s just as magical for the nation as it is for the parent. This was a perfect reason for a celebration and the Italian was finally becoming more comfortable. He couldn’t even remember why he had been scared. Everyone here was just like the people of Italy but Prussian.

The Italian side glanced at Prussia as the other lowered his head to whisper something or other into his ear. He was still smiling. He really did like it here and he had been here, what, an hour at most. A shiver was sent down his spin at the Prussian’s next words. He made it sounds so definite regardless of the fact that the last two had failed. Maybe that was the way he should look at things, with confidence. Was that the key to winning a war?

Italy had missed the feral look that had crossed Prussia’s face but he did manage to catch the others cockiness. He felt so elated right now.

“Now!”

Italy’s attention immediately turned back to Prussia, who gave him two strong pats to the shoulder. He flinched each time not quite used to such friendly actions but was quick to follow as the crowd seemed to part for the two nations. The Italian listened to the options that were presented to him. Beer....maybe he’d give it a second try another time or a fruity Mediterranean drink. Italy guessed Prussia was referring to the wine that was found in almost every region of southern Europe.

The brunette also let out a cherry laugh at the women’s perturbed look. He didn’t even take note of being jostle as he continued to laugh. “Could I have a glass of your finest red wine?” Italy asked the woman in a heavily accented Italian-German. The woman smiled before rushing off to retrieve his order. At this point Italy’s attention was completely and utterly on Prussia. He was so amazed by this nation’s passion for life that it really touched home. If anything, he wanted to be just like the Prussian when he became a more defined nation.

“This is amazing.” The Italian breathed out. “Everyone is so happy....I really like it here.” Hazelnut eyes were twinkling in admiration. “You have something really special here Prussia.”

The woman had come back with his wine and gently handed it to him. Italy took the glass smiling. “Che Dio benedica il bambino!” He blessed taking what Prussia had said seriously and in Italy it was customary for people to bless and give good fortune to the child and its parents. The woman smiled and thanked him before returning to her work.

“Is this what it’s like being an independent nation?” Italy asked curiously. He really hoped it was...everyone treated each other like family.

[Prussia]

The request for wine was expected but the strangeness of Italy’s German was not. In addition to Italy's obvious rapt attention on Prussia’s every move, Prussia struggled to drink from his beer between chuckles. The other nation’s eyes spoke volumes and, although Prussia was a confident nation, he was not used to receiving praise from other nations, a penalty in exchange for keeping oneself empowered by stepping on the toes of his neighbors. And then stepping on their feet, kicking their shins, and ramming a sword through their chest to get them to yield to his strength and back away from his borders. Oh, how his borders had expanded in the past few years!

Prussia looked away from Italy to look around the bar again; this time his chest puffed out in pride and a faint glow flushed across his face. "Never less than amazing here." He nodded his head in agreement. "Of course they’re happy! They’re Prussian!" Patting himself on the chest, holding a hand close over his heart, he turned in time to watch Italy take the wine glass. He laughed just as jovially as before, although not nearly as loud, upon hearing the blessing, and lowered his hand to hoist his slung jacket higher beneath his arm. "See, even the Italians love us!"

The tavern girl took the mug Prussia held out and topped it off. "If you like it then stay as long as you like," he continued, "but you’re going to need to get used to the beer before I try to make you into an official German." There was no aggression or threat, his expression playful, enjoying himself. There had been no plans or even considerations to take over Italy, past, present, or future. Being between France and Austria could not be an enjoyable place to be. Even Prussia's position in Central Europe was enough work, Prussia constantly growing his army for the sake of staying alive. Trying to expand southward was out of the question.

His expression went thoughtful at Italy’s question. "Jein…" Then he grinned and nodded more strongly. "I don’t have to listen to anyone but my bosses and me. And my bosses and people just love me," he said with a delicious relish, "so I don’t need to even have to worry about anything. Only a nation can keep its own best interest at heart."

Red eyes idly looked off to the side for a moment, Prussia considering that not even allies could be trusted. He would know best, after all. The plan to cut down his most current ally, his fellow German, as soon as possible was still high in the air, waiting for just the right moment.

He laughed, full attention on Italy and looking just as intensively and with just as much interest on the young man as Italy was showing him. "You think France or Austria would have let me get this way if I was dependent on them?" Gesturing out with the beer in his hand, the golden drink swishing about and the foam rising to the lip of the glass, he went on, "France would probably kill to stomp this out and replace it with that." That being the wine glass in Italy’s hand. "What kind of country would I be, if I couldn’t protect this precious drink for my baby Prussians to have in the future?" He was half caught between amusement and honesty.

__________

A/N: Jein = Yes and no.[/color]

[venecianovargas]

Italy took a sip of his wine, swished it around in his mouth a bit before swallowing it. Not bad, but then again not great. He wouldn’t complain though he was just grateful for something sweeter. If the two become closer friends (which he hoped they would) Italy would make sure to send Prussia some Tuscan wine. Maybe if lucky, Prussia would actually come to enjoy the softer taste and if not well at least he had something to fall back on when he came to visit. So in the end it was a win-win situation.

The Italian perked up at the mention of being made an official German. There was no threat laced with those words it was just pure genuine friendly banter. Something he had never experienced, especially with all the wars that had been fought to claim ownership of him. Italy had always either been bullied or been forced to do servant work. Even his big brother had bullied him the few times they had come together. Those times had been scarce and very far apart.

He wondered what being an official German entailed besides drinking beer of course. What did Germans eat or do in their spare time? Well, there was always one way to find out. Italy quickly downed the glass of wine, cringing at the fact that it was too much at once. He placed the glass down on the bar and before Prussia could continue on, ordered a mug of what everyone else was having. Apparently he was giving beer its second chance.

The beer was immediately brought to him and feeling a little tired of standing Italy pulled up a bar stool and took a seat as he listened to Prussia speak. The auburn-haired teen absorbed the information like a sponge as he sat there bathing in the others' knowledge. If anyone else was there who knew him well, they would be surprised with how well he can listen. Italy had a tendency of dazing off when things were being explained to him. Although, sometimes he couldn’t be blamed since half the stuff being said was really boring and there were much more interesting things that captured his attention.

There was one question on his mind, though. What if a nation’s boss and his nation didn’t see eye to eye? Or if a nation’s boss and the nation’s people didn’t see eye to eye? What would happen to the nation? Would they disappear? Would they feel like they were tearing in two, ripping in half? Would it be really painful? Or would they just be overwhelmed by a deep sorrow? All of these thoughts made him shiver. None of them were appealing at all and he hoped he was wrong.

Italy took a sip of his drink. He made a face but shook it off by taking an even bigger sip. Maybe beer was an acquired taste and the only solution was to drink more to like it. That seemed reasonable and plausible. Could someone actually like this substance without having to drink a lot of it? Well if that were possible then they must be really really German. Yeah, that had to be it!

Prussia’s laughter pulled the Italian out of his thoughts. He quickly shook his head vigorously at the Prussian’s statement. Of course not! France and Austria were really strict when it came to their culture. They wanted everyone to be like them and to do things in the same fashion as they. There was no room for individuality because everyone had to conform to the French or Austrian way. Italy took another sip slowly beginning to feel the effects of the wine and now the beer. He felt lightheaded oddly enough.

The way the foam swished when Prussia gestured towards his beer made him giggle as he downed more of his golden drink. The Italian gasped, quite loudly, at the thought of France wanting to get rid of this wonderfully Germanic drink. He was aghast! Italy nodded in agreement with the Prussian. What kind of nation would he be if he couldn’t protect this drink for future Prussians?! The thought was completely appalling! The small Italian threw back his head in synch with the mug as he managed to down more than half of the drink. He should have taken his time because he was starting to feel giddy and his head was spinning.

Where these drinks suppose to make him feel this way? Austria never let him drink more than a glass of wine and only during supper and mostly on special occasions. “I want to be just like you.” Italy exclaimed with a slight slur. “I want to protect something for my baby Italians to have in the future too...just like you and this beer.”

Italy guzzled down the rest of his drink before slamming it down on the table next to him. His cheeks were flushed and he was smiling like a fool. The Italian tried to get up off his chair but, he was having difficulty standing. He managed to take a few steps forward before stopping, straightening his posture, and looking contemplatively. “I...” Italy glanced around the room and found it odd that there were now doubles of everyone. “...don’t think I feel so well...” With that the poor Italian passed out having absolutely no alcohol tolerance what so ever.

[Prussia]

Prussia paused for just a moment when Italy downed the wine but continued on, a bit surprised at the Italian's gusto, thinking perhaps that watching everyone drink beer around them had finally gone to the Italian's head. When Italy ordered a beer of his own, Prussia beamed. Guess it should be 'When in Berlin,'[/i] he thought with amusement, far too pleased with himself in how successful Italy's visit was going. It was Berlin, after all: the heart of Europe upon which Prussia's kingdom and, soon, his new empire would revolve. Italy's silent attentiveness only made Prussia speak more loudly, made him gesture more grandiosely.

"Hey now, take it easy!" Prussia raised a hand as though to ease Italy’s beer mug back down from the sudden guzzling but did not quite bring himself to exert the effort. It was beer. Why the hell would Gilbert ever stop someone from drinking it? Everyone should drink it and enjoy it! Prussia certainly did, as his militaristic habits often kept him out of the bars and on the training field, so it was well worth indulging on whenever he could.

A blush raced across Prussia's cheeks at Italy's initial words, and he grinned wildly at the last part. "You can! Like hell you should have to follow Austria and France's lead! You're your own country, Italy. Show them." Red eyes glowed like hot embers. An old fire burning continuously inside him. Italy would show them, would show all of them. And Prussia would be right there, showing everyone that even the weakest of nations could be strong with the mighty Kingdom of Prussia standing by his side.

Italy may have looked young but Prussia knew him to be a fairly old nation, at least as old as Prussia was, if not older. The Vatican sat right inside Italy’s house and although Prussia had not visited the mini-nation, he had heard enough about what went on in the region. Certainly a nation such as Italy knew how to take care of himself, knew to keep his best interests in mind and make sure he didn’t fall prey to other nations, especially when Italy was already preyed upon by his stronger neighbors. Or at least knew how to not get drunk so soon.

As it turned out, Prussia didn’t know Italy very well. The remaining beer in his mug spilled out when Prussia hastily caught Italy mid-slump from the chair, the beer dripping off of the Italian’s seat and onto the floor, the hum and noise of the bar muting his surprised exclamation at having an unconscious Italian in his arms and, when he raised to check it, an empty mug in his hands.

"Well, shit…" Roon had delivered the good wine just for Italy too. Who else here would bother with the stuff? Waste not, want not, as it were. Prussia threw his jacket over Italy’s shoulders, hiding the beer-soaked clothes, and hefted the Italian onto his back. The bottle of wine was gripped tightly in Prussia's hand as he walked out of the bar with Italy’s auburn hair rubbing up against the his upper jaw and the soft breath on his neck.

"Should have expected it," Gilbert said pleasantly to himself, walking along the path of bright yellow street lamps on his way home. A carriage would have made it easier but the cool air cooled his head and helped him think. It would have been a more pleasant walk if he had actually finished at least one mug of beer. "Such a kid. Guess being in my awesome presence was too much for you." Well, some things were more important than beer sometimes.

Used to tending to wounds of his injured, Prussia tried his best to set Italy on the bed gently without making the sickness worse. He stripped Italy down and fitted him into an extra set of nightclothes that were noticeably too large, making idle observations about the other country as he did so. Italy was not muscular. His skin lacked any defining marks or scars. Despite how often Italy had been involved in wars, he was soft to the touch.

Right then and there, Prussia almost reconsidered his plans to usher Italy into yet another confrontation. If that were an option, he would have. Why use such a nation when Prussia himself was so strong? But Prussia’s hate for Austria wouldn’t let him. Italy would just have to forgive him for whatever happened after they won. When he tucked Italy into the large bed and pulled the blankets up to the Italian's chin, there was a soft smile on his face despite his less than gentle thoughts.

[venecianovargas]

There was screaming, lots and lots of screaming and it was frightening. The sharp cries of pain, sorrow and dread pierced him to the core. He could feel it all and it hurt. It really really hurt! No matter how many times he had felt physical pain and even emotional pain this was beyond anything he could ever imagine. It was as if someone was trying to rip out of his chest cavity and press down on his temples until the fingers pierced through. Tears. There were tears streaming down his face as he gazed out at the darkly lit battlefield.

He could see no sign of Prussia or Austria. Clutching at his chest Italy moved on and took a few steps forward accidently stepping on bodies littered around him. Was this what was going to happen? Was this what happened when the government ( and the most part) and it’s people refused to see eye to eye? Italy was shaking and they were violent shakes. No! He didn’t want this. This wasn’t what he had had in mind when striving, for a third time, for his independence.

As he continued walking forward Italy came upon a bloody body on the ground yet this body seemed so familiar. There was a sense of comfort with it but gazing down at its broken state cause his heart to twist in his chest. The Italian knelt down beside the body and with a shaky hand turned them over and to his complete horror he had uncovered Prussia. A loud gasp and then a choked sob emitted from him. No! No! NO! This couldn’t be right! When he had gone to Prussia he had not been expecting such consequences!

Italy gathered the broken Prussian into his arms and held onto the man as tightly as possible as he continued to cry. Tears stained his cheeks and everything seemed to freeze or rather fall silent except for the sound of his anguish. He hadn’t known Prussia for very long but what he gotten to know he had really come to like the other man. This was what Nonno Roma had warned him about and he should have taken heed to his guardians’ words.

“Dio perche....” The Italian whispered as he began to rock back and forth the Prussian’s body clutched securely to his chest. “Dio perche?!” He repeated. Next thing that happened caused the Italian to scream out as Prussia was pried away from him and he was pulled back roughly by black covered hands.

Italy let out a piercing scream as he shot up from the bed, the blankets pooling around his legs and his head pounding like an angered drummer. That was when he noticed the complete change of scenery. He was not on a battlefield but in a quaint looking room and there was no blood but instead white walls. Such a contrast! The Italian wiped away at his tears as he tried to recall what had happened the night before. Oh right! He had been talking to Prussia in the bar and had had one too many drinks. His cheeks flushed at this....how embarrassing. What did Prussia think of him now?

Not knowing quite what to do, Italy curled back into the blanket and clutched his pillow against his face as if it were his lifeline. The dream had really unsettled him and he was scared that maybe what he had woken up from wasn’t actually the dream but reality.

[Prussia]

Blue skies and green grass, the rocky ledge leading down the coast to the water a bit threatening but all too familiar to provide Prussia with any sense of fear. A calmness filled him. A sense of comfort like being in a warm embrace filled his bones even though only a small hand was held tightly in his, Prussia's thumb and two forefingers easily covering the fingers of the child that stood beside him. The wind ruffled the blond locks of hair and, no matter how many times Prussia had had this dream, whenever he looked down, despite his hawk eye view, he could not make out the child's face. Blond hair and a small body, the little hand gripping his harder than necessary as the two of them stood by the coast off of Königsberg, which made little sense as all of this was Prussia, through and through. His dreams of an Empire would be rooted in something else, even if his sleeping dreams seemed to say otherwise.

Prussia squeezed the little hand and the child squeezed back but, to his surprise, the small head turned upwards to look at him, a small nose and vibrant eyes the color of-- A piercing scream cut straight through his dream and jerked him violently awake, a light blue ceiling and a silver chandelier replacing the northern coastline. In an instant he was sitting up with a pistol already in hand, pulled out from under his pillow, and pointed at the door, waiting on high alert for the sounds of a break-in.

Like someone would dare break into my house, he thought, a grin spreading across his face, but still he did not relax or give into the comfort just yet. His thoughts turned to his newest house guest and immediately his long legs were sliding out from underneath the blankets, his feet touching down upon the cold wood floor while he pushed aside the blankets. His toes wiggled to gather some feeling when he rose up and he head straight out across the floor and out of the room, pistol in hand.

All was silence out in the hall and he walked briskly to the room two doors down and across the hall. Prussia knocked once with the point of the pistol. "Italy?" His house, his rules. "I'm coming in." The door was already opening before he heard a response. And in he went, keeping the pistol turned down to the ground and kept close to his side. Red eyes swept the room lit by the faint sunlight shining behind the curtains, taking in Italy curled up in bed, the light decorations, and the heavy wooden furniture meant to last decades. Nothing was amiss, besides the way Italy clung to his pillow for dear life.

"Are you all right? I heard a scream." Within two seconds, his legs had carried him to the window by Italy's bedside. He brushed aside the curtains to peer out at the street. A few people were already milling about but all was calm. Prussia sighed and relaxed, but he could not hold in a light chuckle, his hand tightening its grip on the holster, at the thought of someone like Austria, dignified and high-and-mighty Austria, trying to scale the high iron fence in order to break into Prussia's quaint Berlin residence.

[venecianovargas]

Italy continued to lie silently in the bed, the pillow pressed firmly against him as he stared at his surroundings. He was still shaking from his dream but the initial shock had all but disappeared. There was just the lingering thought of why he had dreamt such a morbid scenario. Was he really not prepared for independence or was this a sign from God that if he were to proceed with his actions the people close to him were going to suffer. He didn’t want that to happen. If anything he should be the one to suffer but again if this was a message from God, the man had thought of everything, he would suffer more seeing the ones he love suffering. What a smart man that God was.

It was too long after he had screamed that he heard a knock then the familiar voice of the Prussian and then the door swing up. Prussia was quick to enter and the first thing Italy noticed was the gun at his side and the look of immense concentration. The way Prussia had entered the room had frightened him a little bit but also relieved him. He didn’t like being alone after a nightmare and the others presence soothed his uneasiness even with the gun held firmly in pale hands.

When the Prussian looked more at ease now that he noticed that there really wasn’t any danger. Italy scrambled out of the bed clutching onto his pants so they didn’t fall off and threw himself at Prussia wrapping his arms around the taller man and burying his face into the others chest. He stood there like that in silence for a very long time before pulling his head away to look up at the German. “I had a horrible nightmare....” He murmured quietly almost shamefully. “I don’t want to go to war if you’re going to get hurt!”

Italy tightened his hold around Prussia. “Let’s just forget it...I don’t need my independence...it won’t be worth it if...if...if...” His lip was quivering and his voice faltering. “Per piacere....Prussia...it won’t be worth it...” He sniffled. For some reason he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth. It was as if he were to say it that it could become a reality and right now he didn’t want to think about reality. Italy wanted to push reality to the back of his mind and leave in a dream world where everything was going to alright and no one ever got hurt or died. But the truth of it all was that escaping reality is impossible and if Italy wanted to become stronger like he had promised himself at the death of the Holy Roman Empire. He would have to take this risks and Prussia probably knew this best of all since being caught in central Europe meant that other nations wouldn’t think twice before invading you.

[Prussia]

The scuffling and movement of fabric drew Prussia's attention from the window, the early morning light pouring in from the gap he had created by splitting the curtains, and towards the Italian rushing towards him with a strange, almost desperate expression. The pants, which Prussia had known were too large about Italy's waist, caused the smaller nation surprisingly little trouble to make it off the bed and then the few steps forward, bare feet just about invisible beneath the pant leg and the long-sleeved shirt ballooning out over such thin shoulders. Prussia raised his hands, barely managing to keep the gun pointed in a safe direction in time for thin arms to wrap about him and a face to plant firmly against his chest, making him release a small grunt from the light impact.

Not sure what to do at first, Prussia nervously looked around the room and then out through the small gap in the curtain as though someone was watching this unexpected moment between them, but soon he had one hand--the gun gripped tight and angled away--on Italy's back and another on the slight shoulder. Now this... was a surprise, to say the least. Certainly Italy was more of an adult now, than a child, but being at a loss of what else to do, Prussia let the moment last and held him there. Whatever thoughts that ran through those wide eyes that finally looked up at him made him wonder just what he was getting himself into. Never before had he dealt with such a weaker nation, but somehow the weakness added to Italy's charm in Prussia's presence. He could not have harmed the young man there, so defenseless, even if he had wanted to.

"We all have nightmares," he said, looking back at the earnest face. "Best not to let it get to you. They aren't real." This was easy enough for him to say in comfort, even if his own nightmares, as far and few between as they were, would have him waking up in a cold sweat.

Italy's next question made his eyebrows rise, wondering just what kind of nightmare the other had seen. Nonetheless, he was unfazed by the suddenness of the question, for he had been thinking about the same topic all night. "That's what happens in war." His voice was calm, his soft words cutting through the silence. "You get hurt but then you get something even better in return."

But as the hold around him tightened, Prussia's own grip firmed on Italy's shoulder and a small frown graced his lips. "You do need it," he insisted, then chuckled. "You must still be drunk, to be saying those kind of things." Despite the gun, he placed the other hand as best he could on Italy's other shoulder to ease the other nation away, yet holding him still within Prussia's meager form of comfort, more like a comrade than a child, so that he could see the Italian better.

"Of course you need independence." This was important for the both of them--for the three of them--but he wasn't sure of the right words to use. He had never been an eloquent speaker before so he simply put as much feeling and weight as he could into his words, like a true Feldmarschall before battle. "It will be worth it."

[venecianovargas]

Italy had not been completely sure on how the Prussian would react to his unexpected hug but when an arm hesitantly wrapped itself around him he couldn't help but be relieved. That was definitely another difference Prussia had from Austria. The small Italian couldn't remember a time when Austria had either gone out of his way to comfort him or even accepted the Italian's embrace. Although he had heard stories about Prussia's ruthlessness the man did know when to be compassionate. Or at least, that's what he got from the taller nation's actions. It instilled a strange sort of confidence. A confidence that Italy had never felt before, sure, his country had been the birth of many wondrous things like the Renaissance but certain discoveries or rather important figures were always linked with a certain area, duchy rather than the entire nation.

Prussia's words snapped him back to reality. The thought of everyone especially Prussia having nightmares seemed farfetched because of the Prussian always gave off a fearless demeanor. Then again, Italy knew that even his Nonno had had nightmares and so why would Prussia be an exception. Prussia was right though, in war people were going to get hurt but the outcome was so much greater, right? If that was the case, why was it that every time he had gone to war all he got out of it was more sorrow and nothing but the Habsburgs ruling over him again and with more of an iron fist than before. However, Prussia had a way with his words even if what he was saying was much for comfort.

Prussia's next words caused the Italian to make an undignified noise as protestation to being drunk. His headache had made itself known again but he was far from drunk! Italy shook his head vigorously as protestation but quickly ceased the action because it was making his head throb even worse than before. "I'm not drunk!" He spoke up, offended. That was quickly forgotten as he felt a second hand fall on his shoulder to ease him away. At first he strengthened his hold but quickly thought better of it and let the Prussian pull him away. Italy stared into Prussia's eye almost asking 'why?' but erased that question from his mind at the Prussian's last words.

"It will be worth it."

These words hung in the room heavily. Would it be worth it? Would it be worth it to watch this man before him die? His lips curved downward at this thought. The Habsburgs were technically his government and so what happened if, hypothetically speaking, he did gain his independence but his people was once again unsatisfied with their government. Would this lead to another war? What if each time his government just wasn't capable of pleasing all the people in his country? Would they revolt? Would his nation be in constant violence? Did independence mean peace or was it a trap to lure a nation into an unstable and unhappy existence? Take France for example, the French revolution was anything but clean. Blood filled the streets of Paris and the guillotine! It was invented to execute people against the new movement. However, France has been its own independent state for longer than Italy could remember and this made the Italian wonder. If France had been under the rule of another nation would the French Revolution have happened? Would all that blood still stain their streets?

Italy had grown eerily quiet after Prussia's words. Would it really be worth it? This question kept coming up but...why was he thinking so negatively all of a sudden. Of course it had to be worth it! It just had too. Right? Italy glanced back up into piercing red eyes and he stared into them. "And what if my people and government never see eye to eye? Will I be like France...will my people cause so much bloodshed that even horses refuse to walk the streets of my city?" Italy finally piped up. This was probably what scared him the most, well, after losing the people closest to him.

Italy knew for a fact that Prussia had once been really good friends with France. So, he knew exactly what he was talking about...then again, who could really forget about Napoleon and all the havoc he had caused in Europe. This caused him to involuntarily shiver. What if someone like Napoleon came into power in Italy? And then he was forced to go to war and take other nations independence!? This thought caused his heart to ache. He remembered how hated France had been during that time. No one liked him and Italy couldn't imagine being hated by everyone, having these nations conspire against him. That thought was even worse than him dying. The Italian took hold of Prussia's sleeve and held it firmly in his grasp. "Will I have to watch my people kill each other every time something doesn't work out? ...is that independence?"

[Prussia]

Prussia wasn't exactly ignoring Italy's look of confusion when space was created between them, but Prussia knew the tricks and strategies for handling people, for handling troops. Physical contact was needed, whether a hand resting on the shoulder or upper arm; eye contact was important to show honesty; and the voice, ever serious and determined. If the commander could not feel it, the troops would not either. To Prussia's embarrassment, it had taken him several centuries before he had finally realized his own leaders had been playing him like that all along. At least now that he knew it, he could make it work to his advantage as well, especially since he was indeed telling the truth and trying to convey his own confidence to the nervous Italian.

The room was silent for so long after Prussia spoke that he almost thought Italy hadn't heard him say it, that somehow the words that came from the Prussian's mouth were words Italy had never heard before. It will be worth it sounded like a good phrase to him. He couldn't remember the whole list exactly, but many people had said it to him plenty of times over his lifetime.

Why should I have to fight France? Let the others clean up their own mess[/i], he had said indignantly, still frustrated at Austria's embarrassing loss and unnerved by France's ever-confident expression. His King had said so much in response that Prussia was dizzy from listening to an argument that chased its tail, but the final words had been blunt and inistant: Trust me, Prussia. It will be worth it. But it hadn't then, of course, for Prussia had been soundly beaten. And then it had been worth it, for Prussia had discovered his own weakness and rose again, his perspective of himself and on warfare completely altered. At the onset of yet another war to come, he could feel it himself. This time especially, the war would be worth it and it would end with their names glorified.

Not exactly a topic worth smiling about, Prussia grinned, his chin tilting up while silently impressed at when Italy seemed to match their thoughts by bringing France up. Yet the grin dissipated as the Italian continued and Prussia dropped a hand to his side and ran a hand through his hair in sudden thought.

"That's... France was a..." He began, a little unsure, then shook his head, grinning again. "That's different. France had been building up to that, ah, situation for years but his boss just tried to hide all of the signs. No boss can make you love him by trashing books you've read a dozen times or theatre shows you've already seen." Prussia laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "No wonder you were having nightmares, off dreaming of France! You know you can still punch him even if whatever he did to you was only in a dream."

Italy's earnest question did, however, seek out an honest answer and Prussia was not on such a high-horse that he was unable to reply. If this was what was truly making Italy afraid, it was best to ease those worries now. If this was the worst of Italy's inhibitions for this war, then it was the smallest of bumps in the road.

"Let’s see…" Prussia dropped the grin and the jokes and walked around Italy so that he could perch on the edge of the bed, taking a pause of his own to recollect his thoughts and try to think of something worth telling. It wasn't difficult. "You remember all of those revolutions a few years back, don't you? They were kind of sweeping the continent like wildfire, everyone was having mental breakdowns. I won't say any names, but I saw a few guys break into tears." The corner of his lip twitched up momentarily in morbid amusement. Leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he idly played with the gun between his hands. "What do you remember about it? Any, say…"–the pause added for effect—"guillotine action? It happened in, ah... mostly '48 and '49, but it was happening everywhere it seemed. A big mess. Awful stuff."

__________

A/N: '48/'49 would be 1848, which would be the Revolutions of 1848[/size]

[venecianovargas]

Italy waited for an answer. Was that the fate of an independent state? He knew that it was a negative way of looking at things but how could it be any different when he had seen a lot of bad. Or rather, he had tried so hard but all of his attempts ended in failure. He didn’t want to give up though. That was why he had come to Prussia. He had noticed the tension rise between the two nations and especially over all the independent German states. He knew exactly what was about to happen and yet this moment of hesitation could not be helped. The thought of losing was frightening and most people...nations could understand that. Take the declining state of the Ottoman Empire. Feliciano, when trading with Sadiq, had noticed the horrible state he was in. There wasn’t as much vigour in the man as there used to be. He had lost so much and Feliciano had a feeling that that wasn’t going to be the end for the Turk.

But, looking at it in that point of view made Feliciano wonder if perhaps Roderich would end up looking like that if he gained independence. It was an interesting thought. Technically, Austria’s empire would also be declining and the man had quite a hold on Italian soil. However, Feliciano could not look at it in that perspective. Austria did not have any mercy for him the first two times and he wouldn’t this time either.

Italy stared at Prussia when the man began to speak. He let out a small chuckle at the Prussian’s joking manner but what he was saying did make sense. Sometimes it wasn’t the fact that a nation was independent but that their boss just didn’t know how to manage the country very well. Feliciano was starting to see the different factors that could lead a nation into chaos. He had been too general in his thought. Independence wasn’t easy, yes, that was right, but if managed right it shouldn’t be ridiculously hard either. France’s boss had made many mistakes and his people had been in a sense oppressed because of the class differences. Although, King Victor could be placed in the same category, it was a hierarchy and yet...Italy knew that his king was nothing like King Louis XIV. His King knew how to rule, his King knew what the people wanted and needed and his King would not let his people down. That was, again, why he was in Prussia asking for help.

Italy needed more reassurance and so he’s eyes zoned in on Prussia once again. He watched as the older looking nation took a seat idly playing with the gun in his hand. Feliciano wasn’t really fond of this topic but it was he who had brought it up. The good thing though, was that his drunkenness had been forgotten. It even seemed as if his headache had disappeared. Strange since he was doing so much thinking. The small Italian hiked up his pants as they began slipping his hold as he listened attentively to what Prussia was saying.

He did remember those revolutions. Many had occurred in Italy but they had obviously been crushed by Austria’s army. Although, those revolutions had kindled a spark in his people that made them realize that they would no longer take foreign rule anymore. What did Austria really know of the needs of the Italian people? Nothing! And yes, he had also heard of the revolutions that had swept France, Denmark, Belgium, the loose German states and many others. He did remember and he would not forget.

Feliciano nods almost unsure of what to do with himself. He felt a little odd standing over the Prussian; it made him feel a lot bigger than he really was. But, on top of that, he was unsure where Prussia was going with this. Yes, there were revolutions and it had affected more than one country and a lot of them were independent but....was this really an event that would ease his worries?

“I remember it being a frightening time...” He comments quietly. “There was a lot of fighting and blood but...I don't see how this is suppose to makes me feel better.”