Italy sat stock-still. He listened carefully, a slight sweat starting to break out on his brow. That's when he heard it, the screams. Explosions. Thumping of boots. Gunfire.

Yanking the army-issue blankets off, he ran down the wooden steps, crying out, "Germany? Germany? Ludwig where are you?" He ran down the corridor, turning into the study. He then saw him, standing in his military uniform next to his brother, Gilbert. He spoke softly, "Don't fret precious, I'm here."

Italy's face scrunched in confusion and fear, "Germany, what's going on? What's happening outside?" He started to shake, his bare feet lightly thumping against the old wooden floor.

He felt a chill run up his spine when Gilbert spoke, "A war." Prussia laughed as he said it, as if he enjoyed the thought. Germany looked at his brother and joined in the laughter.

"War…?" He uttered softly. Prussia nodded, motioning to the window.

Tentatively, Italy stepped towards it, reaching out, and grabbing the soft fabric curtain. He pulled it aside, and gasped in utter horror.

Men, by the hundreds, marched in uniformed lines down the street, carrying pistols and machine guns. They shot at the people, those who were running in fear. Italy looked into the sky; the black of the night nearly concealed the war planes that had been dropping bombs onto the streets below.

Screams rang throughout the night as the familiar sound of a gun would go off. Red and orange illuminated the darkness. Fires, bombs, death, it was all so close.

Italy sucked a breath in, as if remembering how to breathe, when a tear rolled down his cheek, followed by more.

He felt a strong, firm hand on his shoulder, "Step away from the window, go back to sleep." Italy turned to look up at him, his stoic face slightly clouded as he, too, watched the scene outside.

Steering him back upstairs, Germany followed Italy into the room. His black issue combat boots causing the boards to creak under his heavy frame.

Italy numbly sat on the bed, he was beyond confused. "Ludwig, did you do this? What's going on?" He asked, fear creeping into his voice once more.

"Lay your head down, child." He said almost coldly. "I won't let the boogeyman come." He smirked dreamily.

Italy obeyed, though even more frightened from his odd behavior. "But Ludwig what's that sound?" He asked, meaning the rhythmic thumping.

Germany looked down at him, straight into his eyes, "War Drums."

The younger boy's eyes visibly widened.

Germany, noticing this, stroked his hair comfortingly. "Don't worry; I won't let them hurt you."

Italy nodded, though, hadn't expected the next words to leave Ludwig's mouth.

"You're safe from pain, and truth, and choice. And other poison devils. Just stay with me. Go back to sleep."

He stood, walking from the room, and lingered in the doorway. Flicking off the light, he repeated softly, "Go back to sleep."

And walked out.

-Back in the study—

Germany paced the length of the room, returning to the window to look out, and went back to walking. Gilbert looked at him, concerned, "Bruder," He began, "Was stört Sie?" Germany looked at him, wiping his face with his hand.

"Wir können ihn nicht töten Bruder, kann er unser Gefangener sein, aber wir können ihn nicht töten."

Prussia eyed him carefully, observing his body language.

"Sie lieben ihn, nicht wahr Westen?"


***German translations:

"Bruder," He began, "What bothers you?" Germany looked at him, wiping his face with his hand. "We cannot kill him, Brother. He may be our war prisoner, but we cannot kill him."

Prussia eyed him carefully, observing his body language.

"You love him, don't you, West?"


Fin. Thank you all, I've had this idea for a little while, after watching a Dark!Hetalia vid with nazism of Prussia and Germany.

If you want the video link, message me and I'll send it to you(:

The song is: "Rhythm of the War Drums".