ALRIGHTY. LET ME EXPLAIN SOMETHING FIRST. I was trawling about this morning, when I discovered that the extent of the Rome and Germania base here on was TWO STORIES. TRUE FACTOID, PEOPLE!

Obviously, these guys need more love.

And so, here is little drabble I typed up then and there in agitation, that may be taken as a RomexGermania pairing, or merely as a friendship between the two. Enjoy, and maybe someday there this is a disclaimer cleverly tucked away in the context of the introduction. Now you know that Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himuraya, not me. will be a greater fanbase for the Ancient!hetalia :D

The wind rustled the long grass on the hill, giving the illusion of a wave running up the rise. At the top, two men stood, their long cloaks -red and green respectively- rippling out behind them in the breeze.

The brunette in the red cloak smiled. Sun flashed off his burnished gold breastplate and the red-plumed helmet tucked under his arm.

Behind him, a tall blonde stood expressionless. Only his incessant fiddling with one of the braids in his long hair betrayed his agitation. "Roma," he said, "Are the ballistae in position?"

The other nodded, bouncing slightly on his sandal-clad feet. "Don't worry. It's all prepared." A gleam was in his eye. He felt invincible; he wanted to fight, to win.

The blonde knew the feeling. But he restrained himself. "Well then, shall we commence? Are we employing the usual tactic?"

"You go with your berserkers around the left flank of my first cavalry charge. The right will be protected by the trebuchets on the rise and the ballistae by the cliffs. We'll be home for dinner."

The blonde scowled and crossed his arms across his chest. "I wish you wouldn't be so flippant, Roma," he said, irked by the carefree man in front of him.

Rome smiled and laid leather wrapped hand casually on his companions shoulder. "And you need to lighten up, Germania," he laughed, "Who can defeat us, anyway? You worry too much!"

Germania shrugged the hand off and pulled his bronze helmet over his intricately braided hair. "Just don't get yourself killed," he growled.

Rome scratched his head and chuckled. "Don't worry, Germania;" he said, also putting on his helmet, "If I died, you'd be all alone in the world! I'd never do that to you."

"Shut up, you fool."

Rome laughed again, shaking his head at his friend's sharp humour. He drew his short sword and hefted the roughly polished shield that bore the Roman coat of arms.

The Army behind him rippled as thousands copied his motions; they worked in sync, a powerful muscle about to flex. About to crush whatever got in its way.

Germania watched, intently.

He felt a twinge of something like regret, or sadness for this man; his friend despite their clashing personalities. The two empires whose fates seemed inexorably twisted together.

And it fell to him to destroy this.

Rome perhaps knew it; he just hadn't realized it yet. He still felt unbeatable, all powerful. He still trusted Germania to watch his back, which was wide open more often than not.

And at this moment, though he hated to admit it, Germania trusted Rome with every fibre of his being, would trust and follow this man to the end of the world and then some.

Which was bad, bad, bad. He had seen what happened to people who trusted others too much. He had seen too many betrayals to have any silly notions about friendship and loyalty.

Those things were only as lasting as convenience. Then it was back to being alone. Always alone, secure, and trust no one but yourself.

He had broken that golden rule.

Tantamount to suicide.

Germania gritted his teeth. He watched Rome crouch to tighten the leather straps running up his calves. That careless smile, those stupid curls that wouldn't lie flat, his overly cheerful voice and bright, bright eyes. That stupid, heart-on-his-sleeve fool was going to get killed one day. He was getting overconfident.

Germania gripped the short blade strapped to his side tightly. One fluid motion; pull it out, reach over, and…

"Germania?" Rome's voice cut through the blonde's dark introspection. "Ready?"

The tall Germanic man blinked, as though to clear his mind. He nodded. "Very well then."

"Good. I'll throw you a banquet when we get home."

Germania smiled thinly. He felt something trickle down his hand and noticed that he had been clenching his fist so tightly his nails had drawn blood from his palm.

Not today. Today they fought side by side. Today they would win side by side by side. Today they were allies. Today they were…friends, even.

But not for very much longer.



old-style weaponry vocab:

Ballistae: plural of ballista, a sort of cross bow on a wooden stand. Fired long iron bolts that could be dipped in oil and set alight!

Trebuchet: pretty much a type of catapult.