It was like a massacre the way he laid the world bare to bathe in the blood of whom he conquered.

He slaughtered the innocent for fun and popularity, smearing the word "barbarian" over the corpses over his rival's people. Taking great pride in the strewn bodies of mother's sons.

He was nothing more than a show of strength and masculinity.

A pitiful being.

At one point there must have been a thought somewhat like "enough is enough" in his rival's mind; because the toleration came to an end. The pity for this heartless man became anger.

The sight of the heart-clenching grim he wore like it was all "okay" was enraging. The care-free wind-chime laugh and the childish bantering form of speech was maddening.

There was a point when it ceased to be "okay".

When the thought of anything daring to be "okay" was absolutely unacceptable.

His rival could not recall when that point had come – but it had and it was and that was all he needed.

The fall of the Roman Empire.

It was not as climactic as people would have thought.

It had been a long time before the fragile thread of tolerance had snapped and since then he had his tries at defeating the Roman.

Trial and error as it were.

The Roman would pass of these tries as if they were nothing but a child out of line who would soon learn his place.

He began to laze about like nothing was interesting anymore, like the world he owned was a useless toy he would just toss aside so he could wait for something more exciting. He held the world in his palm like a stress ball he could squeeze at anytime and watch as it collapsed and slowly rose back up again.

The part that he did not own was infuriating, like a piece of the ball had been ripped out and dangled in front of him like the carrot-and-stick to his horse. Yet he made no real move to do anything as the days passed by and by and he lazed and lazed about.

And that land of his rival grew angrier and angrier and plotted and plotted until the day that the Empire was just too carefree to notice his own fall.

And then the ball grew and grew until the thought of the crushing hold the Empire once had was lost in time.


This is my first Hetalia fanfiction. I don't know why I had such a great urge to write something that I went so far as to do it in the middle of class, but I did.

This is definitely not the greatest or most accurate fanfiction, but I wanted to write something about Rome's… uhm… less pleasant side? Because he would have one, and that cannot be denied.

"He slaughtered the innocent for fun and popularity, smearing the word "barbarian" over the corpses over his rival's people."

I believe that in the Roman Empire, if you killed a Germanic, you were seen as a celebrity. Which I think is slightly insulting {not that I am Germanic-based-anything in any way} but who am I to say anything?

I hope you enjoyed my historic and Hetalia based inaccuracies.