Worth-価値-

Disclaimer: The AWESOME Hetalia belongs to Himaruya!

Romano sighed. He broke it again.

The sharp pieces of porcelain and expensive china lay scattered upon the ground like solid, cruelly angled snow. He had, as usual, not meant to break anything during his cleaning but the sudden spasm of pain had rocked his carefully poised duster and as a result smashed the vase that he had been dusting. The older Italian brother carefully knelt down before the mess. Spain was going to scold him for sure.

His small hand wavered over the bits and pieces, wanting to dispose of them. And suddenly, the thought of being so weak vexed him so.

Why was he, the OLDER half of the Italy trembling from some flesh wounds? They were nothing!

In blind rage, he tightly grasped a few shards, feeling vehement pride and satisfaction as the sharp edges cut into his skin, leaking out fresh blood. His fist tensed, his racing heart calming at the sound of the earthen pieces crunch in his grip.

"Romano, what are you doing?!"

The sudden shriek snapped the young country out of his stupor and his fingers uncurled. Honey coloured eyes merely stared at the gruesome vision of his palm, bloody red dotted with white stars embedded in flesh. The sting of pain numbed his feelings, but this pain was nothing, compared to the pain that made him shudder just now.

But Romano defiantly thought that the other pain was also nothing. He was the eldest grandson of the strongest nation, Roman Empire! How could a little pain disturb him?

Spain had been a little annoyed when he heard the tell-tale crashing sound. That could only be Romano's work, and no one else's. All his other maids were dainty girls who watched their movements. Romano on the other hand, was as rough as they came. He was often breaking things after all, especially when he was doing so-called cleaning.

The country of passion did not expect to see blood steadily trickling to the floor from the hand of his sullen subordinate, who stared listlessly at the red life slowly spreading over the tiled floor.

Any lectures Spain planned flew out of his head, his overprotective worry consuming his whole being as he flew to the side of his subordinate, the child who would have usually made protests about how it wasn't his fault the things broke. The shock of an injury must have got to him. So it surprised Spain when Romano's usually boisterous voice came out softly, gentle and in a low hum, said, "I got careless and knocked it down with the duster...Sorry, bastard."

"S-S-Something must be wrong!! You're losing too much blood until you're saying things!! Help!!"

Spain disregarded the unusual behaviour as delusion due to blood loss, and for that Romano was glad. The larger country scooped him into his arms and rushed off to see the doctor, screaming at the top of his lungs that Romano should 'hang in there', that he 'couldn't die and leave such a cute boss alone' and so many other unnecessary things that Romano deigned him a curt (and reduced-power) headbutt.

Just to shut him up about the inauspicious matters.

As if he, L'Italia Romano would die from petty cuts!

The warmth of Spain's body comforted him, but Romano did not let it touch his heart. If only he could remain emotionally numb like this forever!! He could not afford to show weakness, he could not afford to show fear...He had Roman Empire's blood in his veins! No...He had the blood of the mighty Greeks as well, he could not fall! He had already shamed himself when he cried for Spain's help the moment he nearly got taken by Turkey.

He humiliated the name, the blood and the legacy he carried! Because he had become dependent on Spain, that he had become so weak!

He would not be needy anymore. He would stop being a child. He could not let Spain convince him that it was safe to let his guard down. Look at what happened when he did; he garnered the unwanted attention of Turkey. Spain was again, surprised when Romano deftly leapt out of his arms, landing perfectly like a cat on the ground. "Don't be so cracked up about it. It's just a hand cut. You're busy with managing the finances because of the war, right? Go and continue your job in case your boss comes scolding again. I'll go to the doctor's myself," Romano muttered.

His voice was clear and calm, but his eyes never met Spain's own.

Usually Spain would override Romano's protests, but for the first time he felt a cold resolution from Romano.

He looked like a child, and acted like one most of the time. Today however, there was an unseen icy fire burning around the Southern Italy. The sense of danger actually made Spain reconsider approaching Romano. The boy didn't wait for an answer, but went on to the doctor who knew the Spain household well. He was the only one who knew of Romano's secret. Romano was no fool, he fumed even as he walked away from Spain.

There was no way he could keep such a secret by himself, and it was a fool's errand to try to do everything alone. Gaining allies in strategic positions is an important military strategy, after all. Without noticing what he himself was doing, Romano's footsteps dissolved from the usually noisy thumps he used into noiseless grace and the child slipped away into the protection of the shadows. Having returned to his office, Spain never saw the impressive skill of stealth.

The doctor who received Romano's visit was a rather old man. He did not question the country's abrupt arrival in his office, but immediately set about nursing the small hand. Romano gritted his teeth tightly, bearing the sting without as much as a sound escaping him. After the bandage was set, the doctor gestured lightly at his chest. Grumbling, Romano pulled off his shirt. Nothing escaped the doctor's eyes.

The child's chest was pearl-like, smooth and white. Standing up, the doctor collected a pail and filled it with water from a larger urn that was set aside in a corner of the had moved off the chair and took a dry cloth. He dipped it into the pail of water brought before him and carefully wiped the chest. The beautiful skin disappeared, black and purple ugly bruises sprouting like weed instead.

After he had finished, the small country handed the cloth to the doctor, who started to clean Romano's back. Similar signs of physical injuries appeared, his back numbered with long scabbed cuts and peppered with scratches. Even his legs, after cleaning, displayed numerous bruises. The doctor carefully examined the wrecked body.

"Romano...Perhaps it would be better to tell the truth to Sir Spain? You need complete rest to fully heal. I'm sure that he will allow you the leeway if you explain..."

Romano's head turned sharply at the suggestion, eyes narrowed down to mere slits at the suggestion. The doctor voiced it not, his opinion, but Romano's expression did not look like anything a child's face would at all. It was...Truly, like the Roman soldiers of the olden days. Strong, proud and fierce. Romano looked like a demon willing to take on anyone.

"Did I not confide in you in the first place in order to hide it from that idiot? I told you this because you are the doctor. Should Spain suspect anything, you are to lie to him about my condition. I did not show you this pathetic body so that you could tell me to confess to the fool. Besides...A little bit longer and it will heal. Then there will be nothing I need to tell him," Romano's speech was scornful and his voice full of disdain, but in his luscious honey-coloured eyes, there was a shimmer of sorrow.

The doctor quietly nodded. He understood that Romano actually deep inside appreciated the fact that Spain protected his country, and that the boy did not want to add further burden to his conqueror. Still, if Romano was not careful, even the oblivious Spain would find out. Having applied the medicine, Romano prepared to mask his injuries once more.

X X X

Lately, Turkey's attacks intensified. It didn't help that more than half the battles were fought for the control Romano's homeland, which would affect Romano himself. Spain frowned at the thought. He hoped Romano wouldn't be harmed too much from those battles, but there was not even a sign of illness in said child. He really prayed that it was only mere aches for the boy. Veneciano, he had heard that the young child held up very well against Turkey on his side of the country.

On the other hand, Romano did absolutely nothing nowadays, just generally lazing around. He had scolded the boy a few times, but the words never seemed to settle into Romano's mind. Spain sighed, wondering why Romano and Veneciano were so different from each other, especially now so when they were on one of their visits to Austria's home.

Both Romano and Veneciano were similar in looks, but they were as different as the sun and the moon. Veneciano of course, was the bubbly and bright sun, bringing light into everyone who met him, his optimism ever encouraging. Romano was the moon in comparison, although there was nothing much tranquil about his personality.

"If only he'd keep his silence for most of the time like this, he would be so proper and elegant."

Austria's unexpected comment left Spain hanging. "Huh, what are you talking about?"

The bespectacled man nodded towards the direction of the Italian brothers. Veneciano was chattering happily, whereas Romano...Spain had never seen such an expression on his charge before. The usually sullen and snappish country was wearing a face of thoughtful contemplation, eyes softened and hands folded demurely on his knees as he listened to his brother talk.

Spain saw it now, the elegance Romano possessed when he was calm, and the light in his eyes...It spoke volumes of loneliness only the moon would know as she lit the night sky in solitude.

Veneciano was adorable, but Romano was...dare he say, beautiful?

"Mr. Austria, may I show mio fratello my room?" Veneciano chirped, smiling so graciously to his conqueror.

Austria curtly nodded, allowing the Italian brothers to leave. He had private business to speak about with Spain and he did not need the Italian brothers to be listening. Both brothers held hands as they left, prompting a smile from Spain. No matter what Romano said, it seems that the brothers shared a strong bond. It looked like a sight to smile at, had it been simple hand-holding.

As he was leading Romano to his room, Veneciano glanced worriedly at his fratello once in a while. Romano had a vice-like grip on his hand, and he understood that if he was not there to hold it, his fratello might have collapsed. Once safely ensconced in the room, Veneciano allowed Romano to lie in his bed. "Are you alright, fratello?" Romano grunted, beads of sweat forming. Veneciano often fretted over Romano's condition, but Romano would never allow his fratello to be concerned for him.

"Fratello...Why couldn't you have come with us? We could've avoided this," Veneciano sniffled, hurting at the sight of his suffering brother. Romano looked at Veneciano, his brother who once had only known him by name, but not sight. During then, Veneciano was protected by their grandfather Roman Empire. Though Veneciano had not known Romano then, Romano had always observed Veneciano from the shadows.

He was his brother, the one that Romano was brought up and trained to protect.

"Stop asking stupid questions, fratello. It was obvious that grandfather didn't want me."

Romano's answer was cruel for someone like Veneciano who loved and respected Roman Empire, but Romano knew at heart his grandfather never abandoned him. In Roman Empire's day, he had been so impressed with Sparta that he made the decision to bring up Romano in a difficult and lonely environment in hopes that Romano would grow strong from harshness. Romano was his eldest grandchild after all, and all firstborns should be strong.

Romano was left behind to face all sorts of challenges alone, being injured and abused by neighbouring countries and keeping up the relentless battle with loneliness, but Romano never regretted. He had grown up fast, not physically but mentally, thanks to that. Romano had learnt to expect no pity, to allow his conquerors no ease while he was around, and he learnt most of all, that the world was unfair.

He would not expect any easy ways to come to him. Roman Empire had made him grow up to protect his weaker sibling, and Romano would die to do so. His caro fratello was the only one he would deign to trust. He was grateful to his grandfather for training him to endure hardships, and endure Romano shall until he gathered enough strength to fight for their independence.

By the time they went home, Romano had recovered enough to act normal. None except Austria ever noticed the fog of depression in the eyes of the observing Veneciano.

X X X

Spain was gone again, and Romano knew all too well that he was going to fight Turkey. After all, his brother Veneciano had actually offered to co-ordinate the naval forces of the Venetian army with Spain's armada. Of course, he sent many of his own people to assist the battle in his name, though he himself decided to remain.

Romano had slacked off, letting Spain's lectures slide off him like it was nothing. Feeling a bit better than most days, Romano decided to do something for him and without a word, set off to the farms, a basket in hand.

He would be gracious and harvest some deliciously sweet tomatoes for Spain to eat when he returned. That was the least he could do for the country who was unknowingly providing him with the opportunity to recuperate. He hardly knew the reason Veneciano was allowed to use his army, never stopping to consider that Austria was far more strict as a conqueror than Spain.

Veneciano secured the quiver of arrows slung across his back, making sure the string of his bow was taut and in fine condition. "You will go, won't you? To help your brother," Austria mused. The small child nodded firmly.

He was always protected by his brother, he knew. Romano never said anything, but Veneciano could tell that his fratello secretly cared and looked after him in any ways he could. That day, Austria had cornered him and forced him to speak. Thus Veneciano had no choice but to confess the truth about Romano.

Austria had then told Veneciano that he had suspected Romano's condition, and was glad that the decision to allow Spain to be in charge of the elder Italian nation seemed correct. This was also another of the reason that Austria allowed Veneciano to go out to war. Veneciano did not want Romano to suffer more, and as a result he was going to join Spain to defend the lands of Italy in the place of his incapitated fratello.

He may be weak, but when it came to precious things, Veneciano could summon the strength in himself to fight and shed blood. This time, it was his turn to protect Romano.

As he stepped out of the household, Veneciano murmured a small prayer.

"For mio fratello."

X X X

A small sting of pain told Romano that the battle had begun. The doctor had advised Romano against sending troops in his current condition, but Romano refused to stay aside and do nothing. His people too, would not just sit down and allow others to fight their battle. His hands continued methodically plucking the ripe red fruits off their stalks, his mind ignoring the dull ache settling in his body as more of his men fell in battle.

Perhaps today...If wishful thoughts were heard by God, perhaps today would be the last battle with Turkey.

Suddenly, a harsh gasp escaped Romano, who fell to the ground in pain. He cursed himself, hoping that it was only one of the less serious seizures he experienced every once in a while. He would have laughed in gladness that he did not have the seizure while cleaning the house if not for the excruciating pain that tightened its control on his body. His vision swayed, darkness began ebbing into his sight. Romano struggled, but he was fighting a losing battle against his consciousness.

'Damn it...'

Spain let out a sigh of relief. He was a bit beaten up, but he had won. Finally, Turkey could learn to keep his hands off Romano. Grinning to himself, he couldn't wait to tell Romano the good news. Being battered and made poor was worth it, to keep his precious subordinate safe with him.

"Romano, where are you? I've got great news!"

Only oppressive silence greeted the conquistador. By now, Romano should have come running out to headbutt him as he always did. But there was no sight of the small energetic country. Curious, Spain ventured further into his home, stopping a passing maid to ask where was his charge. The reply he got was, "The last we saw was him heading to the tomato fields. He must be waiting for you to come home to fresh tomatoes."

The only place Romano seemed to like apart from Spain's house was Spain's tomato farm. Spain planned to surprise the small child by sneaking up on him, but what he saw made his blood run cold. Beside a basket filled with the bright coloured fruits lay a body lying motionless on the ground. "Romano!!" Spain did not hear how terrified he sounded, but rushed over to scoop the child into his arms.

Romano did not struggle, did not come up with his usual retorts. The boy was seemingly lifeless, despite the steady breathing. Without wasting any more time, Spain rushed Romano to the doctor, the blood rushing in his ears. He was blind and deaf to the world save the petite body in his arms. The doctor was startled to have Spain knock down his door in his haste but understood immediately when he saw Romano.

"Place him on the bed," the doctor ordered, preparing to examine the Italian. Spain paced about restlessly like a caged animal, being unable to do anything to help the doctor.

After what seemed like an eternity, the doctor stood up. "What's wrong? Is he going to be alright?" Spain asked, almost mad with worry. "With rest, he will be fine...Only, sir Spain...you must insist to know the truth from him. Romano has been hiding something, and I have sworn my silence to him, but you may find out if you ask him," the doctor advised.

Spain sat beside the bed, wondering sadly what it was that Romano would hide from him. Was he that untrustworthy to the southern half of Italy?

The Spaniard spent long hours without leaving Romano once, staring at the unresponsive body, just praying to have Romano wake up, even if it was to headbutt him. It was so uncharacteristic for Romano to be so quiet and motionless, but when Spain thought about it, it was in Romano's nature to be quiet. He was always quietly listening to Veneciano after a few half-hearted grumbles.

Whereas Veneciano chirped happily like the morning sparrow, Romano remained silent at a distance, only watching his brother. But it wasn't that kind of Romano Spain dealt with on a daily basis, the conquistador lamented. His Romano was always lazing about, with a mouthful of sharp remarks reserved just for the Spaniard and would headbutt him when the child was embarrassed.

The resting child looked so serene Spain could hardly believe it was the same grumpy Romano. Now that he had a chance to properly see, Romano was a beautiful child. Both Vargas siblings could easily pass off as girls had they longer hair, but Veneciano was very adorable while Romano seemed to be the cold beauty. The more he actually thought about it, the more he wondered about the circumstances.

Why wasn't Veneciano allowed to see his brother when they were younger? Why would that grandchild loving crazy Roman Empire leave Romano behind while he took Veneciano away? Spain realized for the first time, all the while when Romano was living alone amongst them he must have been so lonely, without family or friends. Facing the cruel world alone when he was still so small...What was Roman Empire thinking, allowing something as painful as that happen to his grandson?!

Calloused fingers ran lightly across soft lips.

"Wake up, Romano...I'll do anything for you. I'll even have the whole world for you if you want to."

"...I don't fucking need a whole world, idiot. What the hell are you doing here?"

To Spain's surprise, Romano's adorable honey-coloured eyes were open, and they were staring at him in its familiar annoyed fashion. "Romano!! You woke up!!" He swept the child in a tight hug, relieved from the suspense of awaiting his charge's awakening. Romano let out a 'Chigi!' and struggled in Spain's grip, who let go when he saw Romano wince in pain. "I'm sorry, Romano! Where are you hurt?!"

"I-I'm not hurt!" Romano retorted hastily, but his stutter gave him away.

Spain gave him a hurt look, his hand still gently gripping his wrist. "Romano...The doctor said there was something I needed to know...Something that I must ask you. Now mi querido, please tell me if there is something wrong. I want to help you."

There it was again. Romano refused to meet his eyes, and it was a sure signal of his stubborn defiance. There was a certain air that told the conquistador that Romano was internally struggling with himself, the poor child never much too honest with things he liked, apart from the tomato.

"You know, Romano, it's alright for a child to depend on another," Spain tried to gently advise him.

At those words, Romano's head snapped up, his eyes growing dangerously bright, his expression composed and eerily deadly. "I'm not a child. I'm a soldier." Spain was completely baffled at the answer that he was given.

He had thought that Romano was merely a child who was careless and not good at expressing his own feelings, but this...what had happened to Romano that he would say this?

"R-Romano, what do you mean?!"

Romano rolled his eyes, as if in disdain at the older nation. "Don't be innocent, Spain. You know what it means to be a soldier." He knew, alright, that Spain could be downright brutal when he was lost in the heat of battle. He did not see it himself, but he had his own ways of finding out. The more innocent part of him almost cried in fear, but the logic in him approved.

If Spain wasn't strong enough, he would not be able to shelter Romano for the long period he needed.

The Italian sat up, gesturing to a bucket. Confused, and still shaken by the direct manner Romano retorted, Spain got up and brought the water-filled bucket to him. Romano smiled bitterly. "Watch, Spain. This is what you wanted to know." With each stroke of a wet cloth, his wounds and injuries bloomed like tattoos on his skin.

The speechless Spainard could only watch in morbid fascination until the metamorphosis was complete.

"Ever since I was born, countless battles are fought for the domination of me. What the idiots don't realise is that I also get hurt from these moronic conflicts. I am conquered by different nations often, unfortunately...Often enough that my wounds from previous battles have yet to heal. Slowly...they all piled up. Now...I am nothing more than a beaten, miserable country. If this time...I stay long enough, my wounds will have a chance to finally heal."

And all this, Romano spoke without blinking, his expression unchanged.

With a jolt Spain realized the reasons Romano lazed around. He had been trying to lessen the burden on himself discreetly. As if he read Spain's mind, Romano added, "I'm lazy because I just want to be, not because I need the extra rest."

"Why did you hide it, Romano? If you told me querido, I could've..."

"What, protect me without expecting anything in return? You're a conquistador, bastard. Like the others before you, you simply want what I have; my lands. I can never surrender myself willingly to someone I know...I know that I cannot trust," Romano struggled to finish his lie, this dishonest nature of his that crippled him from being genuine with the person he loved. If he admitted that he trusted Spain, that he actually came to love him, it would shame the name of his blood. He would grow weak, and that he feared above all else.

Being weak meant he would not be able to protect his caro fratello.

To his surprise, Spain leant down to the bed and embraced him, careful not to press to hard on his injuries.

"You're being silly, mi querido. I am a conquistador...But you I never conquered. Romano, you are a gift to me. I'm your boss, I'm supposed to look after you. Who will you trust if not me, querido?"

The pain was overwhelming, but it was not the pain of his wounds. His heart was crying, crying as the day it did when he woke up one day to realise that he was truly alone; when his grandfather had whisked Veneciano away from greedy hands. Fat droplets of tears rolled off his plump cheeks, himself struggling to control the crack in his voice.

"Shut up, idiot...Fuck you...I hate you, bastard..."

Spain simply accepted Romano's half-hearted insults with a smile. Here was a nation that carried something so heavy that he would not allow anyone else to share the burden, but it only proved to Spain that he became Romano's boss had a purpose. It was the Spaniard's duty to protect the little one, to nurse the child back to his health and provide for his well-being.

"Te quiero, Romano."

Spain never saw the small lips moving to mouth the voiceless word,

"Bugiardo."

Kufufu~My first APH fic!! SpainRoma, of course~

It says here in this fic that Romano has the blood of Greeks as well.　This is my own fan-idea, as Romano's ehem, vital region Naples is founded by Greeks. So in my fanmind, Romano may very well be the half brother of Greece. But that's just me.

Just a bit of translations ( I confess, I use an online translator and dictionaries) :

Spanish
Mi querido: My dear / Querido: Dear /Te quiero: I love you (Used in general that can also apply to friends and family; Te amo is used especially for lovers only...And some people wonder why Romano gets angry at just a Te quiero XD)

Italian
Mio fratello: My brother / Caro fratello: Dear brother / Bugiardo: Liar

Enjoy~