Rating: T, because of the death theme and implied shonen-ai-ness
A/N: This is a very short drabble...whatever. I needed to write this out.
Dear Holy Roman Empire
I remember the days that I used to spend, sweeping and sweeping and sweeping. I remember how those memories of hard work are all laced with the memory of you and me. Memories of you holding my hand, memories of you trying to feed me good food, even if it would never be as good as what I was used to. I remember the way you'd let me come into your room and curl up in your bed when I was having a nightmare, the way that you'd hold me and sing old songs until I felt better and could sleep again.
It only takes a few moments for me to bring up the memories of painting for you, sharing the great culture that I inherited from Grandpa Rome. The memories of playing tag, of you trying and trying and trying to get me to agree to join you and become the new Roman Empire.
I recall perfectly the day that I broke down and told you about the scars on Grandpa Rome, and the hurt of war. I remember the pain that my heart felt, that you might also one day bear those scars. I would never want that for you, I don't think I could handle it. You meant the world to me, even then, even before I had admitted to myself that you were the most important person in my entire world.
The day that you came to me and said goodbye, and the pain in my chest at that time, was completely intolerable. Even as young and naïve as I was, I knew that I was saying goodbye to someone who was very important to me. And part of me, I think, knew that you were never going to be coming back. Part of me kept whispering that these wars would eat you alive, that the friend I knew would never be coming back to me and my push broom and my promise of sweets and candy. I remember the days after you left. I remember crying and crying and crying. I remember wishing that I could pull on that red string and bring you back to me that way.
I used to lay in your bed night after night and push my nose into the pillows. Part of me knew your scent had long faded. Part of me understood that the sheets were no longer permeated with your being. But another part of me hoped beyond hope that, if I just lay long enough, if I just wished hard enough, the war will give you back and I wouldn't be alone...
But it never happened. I waited for you. Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to years and years brought me my freedom. Your house was torn apart, and we all went our separate ways. I wanted nothing more than to see you again, but with every passing year I knew it was less and less likely.
I remember when France told me that you had fallen. I remember not wanting to believe it. I remember being told time and time again by the other nations that Holy Roman Empire had fallen. That Holy Roman Empire was dead. But something in my spirit couldn't take that for truth. Didn't want to. Simply couldn't stomach it.
It's been a long time since then, Holy Roman Empire. I've waited and wished. I've suffered in silence as my first and only love became more and more separated from my memory with years. You may wonder why I've bothered to write you all these letters. Why all of them start from the beginning. But the truth of the matter is: I do it to remind myself. I do it to assure I will never forget you. Sometimes I wonder if a day will come when they won't even remember who Holy Roman Empire was, who you were. Who you are. Will I ever forget? Will you ever fade to the back of my memory? Or will I fall first, replaced by some young, upstart nation who will fix things? In truth, I may never know. I may never know if you're actually gone, or if you never existed at all, or if I'll fade before you do, or if I'll forget you lived. But none of that is important right now, because none of that is the purpose of this letter.
This letter is to let you know that I'm okay. You always told me you just wanted me to be happy, and for the first time since you've left, I think I finally found it. I finally have a friend like I used to have in you, Holy Roman Empire. He's kind and strong and he takes good care of me, even when I mess up. And even thought I'll always love you first and foremost, he most definitely has an important place in my heart.
And that important place is called Germany.