((First off, this is more of a short chapter.

Second, is it bad that I enjoy making poems at the beginning of these chapters? SO DEEP AND MEANINGFUL YES. I sorta wanna know what everyone thinks of the little poems. Do they seem like they mean something? I know it's too much to ask, asking people to comment on them XD but I'm just curious about what people think they represent, and things like that… anyway... carry on!))

Chapter Eight: The Plans of War

It's his duty.

But it's her truth…

But if it's his destiny,

Is it his proof?

"So do you have any plans?"

"Well, I think we should intercept them through the eastern area, but only if you are willing to sacrifice a few men in the process."

"Sacrifice? I do not think he is willing to sacrifice any men at all!"

"That motive is too risky, Sir. We have to try another route."

"And you have anything better, Austria?"

The older man paused, fixing his glasses and looking away for a moment towards the door of the office. It was creaked open only slightly, and he immediately noticed the set of eyes gazing inside of the room. Young Italia's hazel eyes… He'd rather not discuss their plans in front of the innocents, and yet, there she was… watching.

Hungary was sitting calmly in a chair, looking down at her hands that had been folded in her lap. She wasn't saying much of anything; most of the discussion was between Austria and the Holy Roman Empire at the moment, who was at his usual post… behind his desk.

"Well? Austria?" HRE repeated with a small glare. Sometimes it was hard to take a child seriously, and yet, with this blonde, his blue gaze was intense. The hour was close at hand, and they couldn't afford any mistakes on planning their actions… his actions. The boy swallowed, waiting for an answer from the other male. Besides the two of them, there was a General that was underneath HRE, but Hungary was the only woman in the room.

"I… have none." Austria finally admitted, and HRE gave a dark grin. "It is settled then." The boy breathed out, nodding to the general who bowed gracefully before turning on his heel and marching to the door. Austria quickly glanced as the man exited, hearing nothing from the General, he turned his attention back to HRE "Do you really think that this sneak attack will work?"

"It has to…" The blonde boy mumbled with a light frown.

Italia had hidden around the corner as the General exited the office, and he watched the man walk the opposite way down the quiet hall. The entire home had been submitted into silence, due to Holy Roman Empire calling people back and forth to meet with him. Some entering and having yet to exit. He was planning, plotting, and from what Italia had witnessed, it was for war.

Italia knew why he hadn't been called in, because Holy Roman Empire did not want him to get involved...

"Oh, Empire…" Italia sighed sadly, feeling his eyes fill up with tears.

He hurried into the kitchen, looking for some things here and there to make. Perhaps if he made a meal for him, he would feel better? Perhaps even decide not to go to such a great war? He was worried about him, he couldn't help it… he loved him.

Into the pot went vegetables and water, light hissing noises erupted due to the heated metal greeting cold water fresh from the pump. Italia chopped and diced, tossed and tried his best to make a great soup. He wanted a big pot full so that maybe everyone could partake in a bowl of their own? He would sip and test, and he would approve, then he would pour a finished bowl and walk right over to the office. A heart-warming bowl of vegetable soup.

Italia stood there though, at the door, worried… confused, but still worried. Would everything be alright?

He knocked lightly "I-It is I-Italia…"

"Italia?" The familiar voice spoke, and he smiled before slowly peeking through the door with his head "Nhn." He scooted in, looking at Hungary and Austria for a moment, before holding up the bowl "I-I made—"

"Italia, I do not have time for this right now." Holy Roman Empire said this quickly, giving Italia a smile, but waving him away nonetheless. Italia frowned "But, have you eaten today?"

"Yes, yes, I am fine." He waved him off again, but Italia insisted "E-Empire… You have to eat something."

"You do look starved, sir." Hungary admitted, looking at the bowl of soup in Italia's hands. Italia nodded quickly "Y-Yes… it is really good, all the vegetables are fresh. Especially the tomatoes—"

"I said I AM FINE!" The blonde suddenly yelled, startling the young brunette as he dropped the bowl and it shattered onto the floor. There was a long silence, but Hungary hurried to her feet "I will clean it up…!" The woman rushed over with a handy napkin, and started to scrub and wipe the floor with a frown.

"Italia…" HRE muttered gently, the blue eyed male was looking away sadly "I-I am sorry—"

"No, I understand." Italia mumbled back, his eyes welling with sorrow now. He had failed… "I know, I should not have bothered you. It is my own fault…" He turned quickly and hurried out the door "H-Have fun!"


The young boy ran out of the office, and down to the hall, and immediately to the room filled with clay and pottery wheels. He sobbed, squeaky noises erupting from him each moment he took a deep breath. He felt foolish, a little silly for thinking that soup or food could bring anyone happiness. He was different, it couldn't be helped. Italia was the only boy he knew that needed to eat when he was sad, or needed something to munch on when he was sick… every moment he felt down, he needed something to feed on. He was the only one then? No one else ever wanted or liked his food, and when Empire said he liked it… he never ate in front of him…

Holy Roman Empire didn't like him anymore.

Italia cried, sitting on a stool in front of a lump of red clay. He covered his face with his apron, crying deeply into its comforting cloth. It had been dirtied with food stains, but food was all he knew. It was all he had now.

He sniffled some, rubbing his eyes and holding his breath. But hiccups came, and he slowly lowered the apron and looked at the clay before him. He wiped a few stray tears from his cheeks, before whispering nervously "N-Not… not all I have."

He worked with what he got, that was what he always remembered. Work with what you have, never worry about the rest of the world. Be happy, you're doing fine… as long as you have one, you can worry about the other later.

"Not… just food…" Italia whispered as his tiny hands shifted and fixed the lump of clay before him. His creamy white hands were slowly becoming stained. He wasn't even supposed to be in such an area. He was the house maid, like Hungary, he was there to just clean and cook… not create the plates or build pots…


When Italia was finished, he left it to dry on a small table, smiling proudly at the work of art. Later in the evening, while everyone was finally asleep, he would return as quietly as possible… and pick up what he had made and go to HRE's closet.

"I do not just have food, Holy Roman Empire…" The boy mumbled sweetly as he cradled the object he had made. He closed the closet door behind him, going to a small box and kneeling before it. "I have a heart too."

A hardened clay heart rested in his arms, and he smiled down at it before kissing its dry and smooth surface with his small and gentle lips. He opened the box, biting his bottom lip as he looked down into it and immediately spotted the frame of himself. "Oh… Empire…" He whispered, kissing the heart shaped gift again and placing it inside "I hope my heart is good enough for you…"

"I hope… my heart can save you."

He was peeking into the old closet now, not sure what to say, or how to feel. He was confused, upset, slightly angry.

It made no sense that Germany was reciting this dream aloud… as if he knew, as if he understood. But he didn't, he shouldn't…

"Doitsu…" Italy grumbled, staring into the closet and watching the blonde stand there holding the clay creation. It had cracked, chipped some, but it was still in mint condition. Germany remembered the heart, he said… Germany remembered when Italia placed it in the box, he said…

Why was Germany behaving so rudely? Why was he such a liar…?

Italy held his breath, his eyes watered, but he didn't try to wipe them away. He had just woken up from a dream… the same dream that Germany said he remembered… except… apparently, his was in the eyes of HRE.

"No… I can't…" Italy couldn't fall in love... he couldn't. He made a promise, and he would do whatever it takes to keep it.

"I may not have all my memories… but Romano has the rest." Italy said quickly, it seemed to startle Germany as he looked to the doorway, but Italy quickly evaded his gaze by hurrying down the hall and to his own bedroom.

"Romano will understand… Germany, you are not, and will never be, my Holy Roman Empire…"

I hope…

My heart can save you.

Authors Note:

Some people may notice that I switch Italia from being a HER to a HE every now and then. It's because this depends on the perspective. If I'm writing from HRE or Austria's perspective, of course they see Italia as a young girl. Hungary, however, would see Italia as a young boy, since she was the one who gave him the dress and dressed him in the beginning. Does that make sense? I just wanted to clear that up. This was a small dream sequence chapter. This time Italy is starting to dream… and it's affecting him too.

Next chapter: Oh Brother, My Brother

Germany and Italy return to their brothers in order to gain advice on how they should feel in this confusing love and hate situation. Both receive the same advice; and yet both just can't move on from how they feel…

But both of them are talking about two different people…?