AnotherWriterWhoWrites (firealchemist18) wrote in hetalia,
AnotherWriterWhoWrites
firealchemist18
hetalia

Fic Forgiveness and Love chapter 1

Title: Forgiveness and Love
Author/Artist: Me!
Character(s) or Pairing(s): FemGermany, Italy, Prussia, FemGermanyxItaly
Rating: T
Warnings: Does FemGermany count? And flashbacks to violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: After their last meeting in WWII left on a horrible note Germanys and Italys friendship had ended. Hoping to reconcile with Germany Italy goes to her in hopes of friendship. And maybe love.



“She misses you, you know.”

The words echo in his ear again. She misses him? Germany misses Italy?

Feliciano bit his bottom lip as he stirred the pot of pasta on the stove absentmindedly; Prussias words rang through his head again.

She missed him?

Their last encounter hadn’t been the best one in the world either.

Italy leaned against the wall whimpering, blood, his own blood, was running down his body. His arm was surely broken and he could feel some of his ribs had cracked from when she kicked him.

All of a sudden the boot went flying again and collided with his stomach. He screamed as the cracked ribs broke into themselves and collapsed on the floor.

“Did you honestly think that after betraying me I would let you off easily?” she hissed.

This is not Germany, it was not Germany. It couldn’t be.

It couldn’t be the girl he loved whose eyes now were as hard as ice and just as cold. Those eyes weren’t Germanys. Her eyes were warm as the sunlit sky.


Feliciano pulled out of his memories as he heard the timer go off. He picked up the pot filled with pasta but forgot to put the mitten on to cover from the heat. He let out a cry as it burned his hand. When he let go of the pot it fell back to the stove miraculously not spilling a single drop of water or a single strand of pasta.

He watched his hand as it became red.

Red red red red red red red .

“You disgusting cowardly little traitor!”

Feliciano pulled some ice out of the freezer and put it on his burnt hand. He sighed as he sat down in a chair.

It had been quite a few years since WWII had ended, things were finally back to normal. Prussia and Germany had been reunited as one country. Germany itself had gotten a better government. Japan had finally physically healed from the atomic bombs and seemed to be doing okay.

All in all everything seemed fine.

Except that he hadn’t seen Germany in years and he was really missing her. But he was too scared to go back there.

“How dare you break our pact!”

“Maybe I should show you exactly what we do to traitors.”


Feliciano sighed and slumped in his chair. He wanted to see her again…it was just…he was also kinda afraid of going there.

He missed her, there was no mistaking that, but even though wounds healed memories didn’t.

He rubbed where his ribs were. He still remembered her making contact with her boots there.

He leaned back against the chair; his head tilted back and looked at the ceiling.

He missed her. He missed her so much that it hurt. He had no idea how to go and talk to her. During G8 and World Meetings she would avoid his eyes. The closest he had gotten to her was when he had accidentally bumped into her in the hallway. Before he could stammer anything out Romano had grabbed him and dragged him away from her.

He brought his legs onto the chair and put his arms around them. Something that he realized about halfway through WWII was that he loved her. He loved her in a more deeper and mature way of his love for the Holy Roman Empire.

Holy Roman Empire.

He didn’t think about his first love that often anymore, something he had felt guilty about. But he didn’t need to anymore.

Because Holy Roman Empire was alive.

From the moment he saw Germany he knew that she was the Holy Roman Empire. A lot was the same. Their looks, their personalities in a way, everything.

But they were also different.

Holy Roman Empire enjoyed wearing dresses. Along with her usual robes that she usually wore were small heels. She was somewhat girly but she was also not afraid to get her hands dirty.

Germany hated dresses and skirts with a vengeance. She refused entirely to wear them and when she did they were always floor length and she wore her military boots under them. She was by no means girly and even though she was a neat freak she preferred to get dirty.

She was the Holy Roman Empire but he loved her because of what she made to be Germany.

He bit his lip in thought. Maybe he should go over to her house. Try to talk to her at least. Maybe it would all work out.

Maybe they could be friends again.

And hopefully maybe more than friends.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Germany sighed as she finished mopping the floor in the kitchen.

She rubbed her forehead with her right arm as she leaned on the mop.

Yep it looked clean enough.

She hummed slightly as she pulled the bucket of soap water and the mop to the bathroom. She stopped humming when she realized that she had been humming the Italian nation anthem.

She sighed heavily as she drained the soap water in the bathtub. She turned on the water and began to wash the mop and bucket.

She hasn’t seen Feliciano since that fateful day in WWII. His new boss had aligned themselves with the Allied powers and he had come to her.

She didn’t know why he had come, though inside she had marveled at the size of his idiocy, and didn’t give him a change to tell her.

Instead she had immediately set to beating him.

She winced at the memories. Days prior to that time her mind had started to crack under it all.

Especially the new information of the concentration camps.

Hearing that Italy had changed sides was merely the final crack. She refused to remember that sometimes the personification had no choice but to fall their boss even if their own feelings or wants didn’t agree with it.

She now knew that first hand.

Shaking her head free of those thoughts she focused on what she was washing and wondering what Gilbert was making for dinner.

They had an agreement that on some days she did the cleaning and he would do the cooking and a few days later they switched.

Gilbert was admittedly a good cook, and his cleaning skills were approved by her, so it was a nice cycle.

It was great that he was home again.

She absentmindly allowed the water to rise slightly in the bathtub before draining it and cleaning the tub itself.

She missed him terribly.

She stood up and stretched before rubbing her eyes. She cringed as her still wet hands touched her face. She took a towel and dried her hands and eyes before putting it back on the rack.

She caught her reflection in the mirror. Black circles were under her eyes showing all the sleepless nights. She rubbed them before sighing. It had been days, weeks maybe, since she had been able to get a full night sleep. She had taken to crawling in the bed with Gilbert.

She had gotten too used to sleeping in the same bed as Feliciano to now fall asleep alone. She wasn’t able to fall asleep quickly if at all sometimes.

She walked to the kitchen where Gilbert was pulling out something from the oven. He glanced over his shoulder “Just in time West.”

She nodded and started to take the plates, forks, and knives out the cupboards and drawers. She then went to the refrigerator and pulled out two beers and placed all of it on the table.

“Something wrong?” Gilbert asked putting the food on the table.

Germany shook her head. “No nothings wrong.”

“You look like your about to cry.”

Germany automatically brought her fingers to her eyes. They were indeed watering slightly. She shook her head again. “Nein. I‘m fine.”

Gilbert shrugged. “If you’re sure.”

But he couldn’t help but sneak peeks the entire dinner.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feliciano crept into the house quietly. It was some time in the middle of the night so everyone was asleep.

He glanced at the living room. It had been modernized but besides that it looked the same.

He bit his lip as he went upstairs to Germanys bedroom. He quietly opened the door and entered her room.

There Germany was sleeping soundly. Her hair was spread around her like a halo of some sort. She looked beautiful.

He watched her breathe for a moment before sighing. This was a bad idea, coming in the middle of the night like this. Maybe tomorrow in the afternoon when she was awake.

But would she be happy to see him or would she be angry.

He stood up and started to walk towards the door. His hand was on the doorknob when he heard a familiar sound behind him.

The cocking of a gun.

“I don’t know who you are but you picked the wrong house bastard.” Germany said.
Tags: -germany, -italy north (veneziano), -prussia, fan: fic
Subscribe

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

  • 1 comment