A/N: This is a new project I'm excited about, I hope I've done well with the start!

On to the story!

Edit: As of 12/14/15, this fic is being edited for quality, clarity, and change of characterization. Looking back on it now, my views on Feliciano and Ivan's characterization have changed, so I'm trying my best to make it reflect that new set of headcanons.

The children jeered at the smallest child as they flew about, taunting the little one to come up and join them.

Feliciano faltered and weakly tried to fly up to meet them, but he clumsily teetered and ended up crashing right back into the earth.

The children laughed, and Feliciano sat up shakily, his fluffy wings shamefully tucking back in close to him, where no one could see how useless they were.

"Haha, nice try, fluffy! But you're supposed to go up, you know?" one laughed. Feliciano colored red in shame and hid slightly beneath his wings.

"Don't bother talking to him, Will, he's a dumb fluffwing anyway. It's not like he'll ever be able to fly with wings like that," another child said, before the group flew off a farther distance to where Feliciano could only barely make out their moving figures.

Feliciano flinched and faltered at the insult. He sighed and enviously watched as the others flew about, darting quickly and others gracefully moving in arcs and loops.

"Feliciano~! Get back to the house, dear, Roderich is calling for you," Elizabeta said, flying over to the child and alighting beside him, helping him up. "It's almost suppertime, and it's getting dark. You're too young to be out flying at night," she chided lightly, dusting off the child. "Still getting the hang of it, I see."

"Si, Miss Hungary…" he said, blushing as he was dusted off. "I-I just need more practice, I think."

Elizabeta laughed softly and patted him on the head. "Don't worry, Feliciano. Everyone learns at different paces."

Feliciano blushed and stared at the ground, where he was pretty sure he'd stay his whole life, and followed Elizabeta home.

He sighed and absently preened his fluffy, downy wings, knowing he'd never be able to use them to fly.

"Vargas! We've got soldiers coming in from the battle up north!" A nurse called to him, as the hospital wing of the camps began to get busy. "The number of wounded is high, judging by what the messengers sent! It's not looking good!"

Feliciano instantly was at attention, quickly getting prepared and organizing all the other medics to get ready for a long night.

He quickly washed his hands and got into his scrubs, rushing over to help patients into the beds.

"Claude, I need you to stem the bleeding of this one- Maria, could you run over and get the bin of antidotes, I think some of them were hit with poison darts! Giorgio, please hurry and begin healing anyone with deeper wounds, and Sandra, please hurry and start triage and screening everyone to see who needs care the fastest!" Feliciano called out, quickly moving about and working, organizing the many medics in the hospital wing.

He himself rushed over to a soldier whose abdomen had been pierced by some weapon or other, but by the looks of it, it must have been a sword. Feliciano bit his lip and instantly removed the bloodied cloth from around the wound, and exposed it, before placing his hands over it and focusing hard, hands beginning to glow green with healing energy. He had to work quickly and precisely, and with artists' hands, he found that it wasn't too difficult to gently work the healing energy through the torn tissue.

He moved, from patient to patient, working with his many aides to heal the most they could, using their magic on the more severely injured patients and using traditional procedures on those with lesser injuries, and before Feliciano knew it, it was early morning.

They'd worked through the night… and the sun was rising.

Feliciano sighed tiredly, and began his rounds without a moment's rest.

His name was Feliciano Vargas, the embodiment of North Italy, and he was currently serving as the Freedom Force's head medic- of the 9th Corps, headed by Ivan Braginsky. ("Freedom Forces" had been Alfred's idea, of course. Being somewhat fitting, the name stuck.)

He had decided a few centuries ago that he'd wanted to be a healer rather than a fighter in times of war, and that's exactly what he became. While he was a highly ranked and qualified combat medic, he often preferred to avoid battles and stay in the hospital wings on the grounded camps, where it was safer.

A few of the other Nations had posts throughout this corps as well, and it was always hectic, to say the least. Feliciano was always curiously checking in on other nearby divisions and brigades to see how some of the other Nations in other areas were doing, but for the most part, he was too busy trying to keep order in the hospital wing to keep too much of an eye on things. Being new to this corps (he'd been transferred last month), the only Nation he knew of that was at this camp was Russia.

In a corps of thirty thousand, it was… very easy to find himself losing touch with people even within the same corps as him. He still didn't know the majority of the men stationed here, and he still had yet to find a human that outright accepted his… state. (The other Nations, to his relief, at least accepted it outwardly, whenever he'd run into one at the other camps.)

After a long day of working in the hospital wing, all he really wanted was a nice dinner to fill him up before he went to his makeshift nest in the woods east of the encampment. (He wondered if there would be pasta today.) But of course, just before he began to trot towards the mess hall to eat, someone grabbed him by the back of his collar.

"Vargas!" A Lieutenant barked out, and Feliciano instantly tensed and cursed softly under his breath at his luck. "You've skipped flight training, again! If you keep this up, we'll have to follow up with disciplinary action! Honestly, you're our head medic. Shouldn't you take this more seriously?" they scolded him, and Feliciano could only smile sheepishly.

"Ahah... Si, about that..."

"No excuses, Vargas, just go."

Feliciano sighed and nodded, before he darted away from the lieutenant in the direction of the training rings. Once he was out of sight, he desperately attempted to fly to his hidden makeshift nest instead, where he could hide for a while. Anything to avoid humiliating himself in front of the humans again.

He spread his large, white wings- wings that would be impressive if they were, well, useful- and beat them down with powerful movements, until he was airborne. The skies around the camps were usually busy, but luckily no one seemed to be in the air at the time. It was most likely that everyone was already having dinner- Like I should be, Feliciano pouted- and getting ready to end their day.

Once in the air, though, he began his usual struggle to maintain control and stay airborne, which he could never really succeed at: those useless, fluffy wings of his were not built for controlled flight. He could barely stay up in the air properly. He already realized he was on a crash course and headed towards the ground at a quick pace.

"Oh, dio, oh dio, l-look out! Look out!" Feliciano called out as his clumsy plummet brought him closer and closer to someone on the ground below him, who unfortunately had their guard down and hadn't heard the flapping of his wings.

Just a split second before Feliciano actually crashed into the man, he caught sight of wide, violet eyes.

Violet…?

And then there was a hard impact and Feliciano felt himself land in a crumpled heap on the ground with the poor guy he'd had the misfortune of crashing into.

"I'm so sorry!" Feliciano blurted out, repeating it over and over. "I'm really, really sorry, Dio, I didn't mean to crash into you, I mean, I even tried to warn you, but you must've really been zoning out there, huh-" Feliciano was scrambling off the other man and trying to dust him off, before his hands brushed over medals over the heart of his uniform.

Feliciano paused and examined the medals on the uniform he was dusting off, before his eyes widened. Had he just crashed into…

Feliciano slowly looked up, to find himself meeting the gaze of one Ivan Braginsky.

The Italian audibly squeaked and jumped back, apologizing even more profusely than he had before. Oh no, he'd crashed into the Lieutenant General? The one in charge of their entire corps?

The Russian man slowly stood up, straightening his uniform, before running an analytical gaze over Feliciano, violet eyes landing on Feliciano's fluffy white wings. Feliciano instantly tried tucking his wings as close to his body as possible, in a futile attempt to hide their uselessness from sight. They were too easy to see nonetheless, especially with the amount of downy and plumed feathers on him. Feliciano watched as Ivan's lips quirked into a curve of slight amusement, before his gaze settled onto his face, as if finally acknowledging his presence there.

"Ah… so it is you," Ivan said simply, raising an eyebrow at Feliciano. The man was easily a foot taller than Feliciano, and the small Italian felt easily intimidated by Ivan, especially under his focused gaze. To his surprise, though, Russia's gaze wasn't as icy or harsh as he'd expected it to be. (The other soldiers and Nations were always spreading rumors about Russia…)

The gaze was thoughtful, the curve of his lips slightly amused still. Feliciano still felt himself tense with apprehension, though, and continued to apologize.

"D-Dispiace! I really am sorry! I, ah, I was just trying to get away from the training course and I lost my balance and then I fell and..." Feliciano trailed off, cutting himself off before he began rambling, as he was apt to do. "But you aren't hurt, are you? I could heal anything, if you need me to! I'm good at that!" he suddenly offered next, lifting a glowing hand towards Ivan.

Ivan only seemed to find this even more amusing, and he laughed softly, a low chuckle that startled Feliciano and only unsettled him more. He turned red in slight embarrassment, wondering if he'd said something wrong.

"Did I say something wrong...? Or funny? I wasn't trying to be, but, okay!I guess you're alright then..." Feliciano rambled on next, blushing and trailing off once more, lowering his hand and cutting off energy flow to it, its glow ceasing. Ivan's chuckles died down and he gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Da, it is fine," Ivan said simply. He smirked slightly. "After all, I very much doubt that someone as small as you could cause me much harm like this, Italiya." Feliciano turned a deep red and pouted at that, huffing slightly.

"I'm not that small!" Feliciano protested softly under his breath, not having the courage to speak out against his commanding officer, especially since Ivan Braginsky was his commanding officer.

Feliciano often wondered if he was just born unlucky.

But seeing that Ivan did not seem too upset at all, Feliciano perked up slightly. "So you're… not angry?" he asked hopefully.

Ivan shook his head. "нет. Just be more careful next time. Unless of course, you were aiming for the ground..." he replied, another small smirk settling on his lips, eyes still unnervingly cold. Feliciano turned scarlet again, and stared down at the ground.

"Well, I was intending to land eventually, just… not… there," Feliciano said in a mumble, before straightening up into a slightly clumsy salute. "But I'll really do my best to be more careful! I really am sorry about crashing into you!" he said, feeling himself relax slightly.

Besides the slightly mean teases from him, Ivan didn't give any indication that he was too upset, so Feliciano decided that it'd be for the best if he just stayed on this good side of his.

"It is alright," Ivan said simply, seeming unperturbed. "Simply… do not be making a habit of it, understand?" Feliciano shivered slightly at that, perceiving it as a threat, and nodded.

"Dispiace! I'll do my best, sir!" Feliciano replied. Ivan looked him over for a moment, raising an eyebrow, and Feliciano only felt himself coloring a deeper shade of red and feeling even more intimidated under the sharp gaze.

"Do you always do so much apologizing?" Ivan finally asked, the slightest tinge of amusement still in his voice.

"Ah, I'm sorry- I mean, well... I never realized how much I do it, aha. I suppose I do that a lot, huh? Dispiace!" Feliciano blurted out nervously.

There was another beat of silence.

"…Oh wait, I did it again, didn't I?"

Ivan gave him an unreadable look and simply nodded.

Feliciano blushed darkly and looked down at the ground. "Quieting down now, signore."

Ivan raised his eyebrow at him again, before simply shaking his head slightly, not seeming too bothered. "Well. This has certainly been… interesting, but I must get going," Ivan said simply, before turning to take his leave. However, to his surprise, the fluffwinged medic was trotting along at his side, curiously.

"Oh, where are you going? Did you have work to do? Dispiace, I must have made you late for something, oh, I really didn't mean to! But is your job fun? It must be, to be able to tell everyone what to do and relax- or is it not relaxing?" Feliciano asked all at once, finding that he often had to take two or three strides to match a single of Ivan's. His ensuing trot was rather funny to watch, and Ivan was slightly distracted by how someone so small could have wings so large.

Ivan blinked slightly at the onslaught of questions, and wasn't quite sure if he was glad for the company or irritated by it. Feliciano could be very taxing on the nerves, so he'd heard, but at the same time, it wasn't often that anyone (besides his own sisters, of course) willingly talked to him or stayed near him longer than necessary, and it was almost pleasant to have someone friendly to speak to.

He begrudgingly let the fluffwing follow him along, for the time being.

"I was heading towards a meeting in the camps to discuss the situation on the battle front," Ivan replied. "I would not call my job 'fun', but I do not mind it... although, it is not as relaxing as you seem to think." After a few moments, he added, "Ah, do you not have somewhere to be being as well, Italiya?"

Feliciano smiled at him brightly. "Nope! I already escaped-" He caught himself and quickly continued, "I mean, er, finished my flight training for the day, and my rounds in the hospital wing were done earlier! So I'm free!" Feliciano replied.

Ivan looked him over out of the corner of his eye, giving a soft hum. "I see… so you are the one who has been constantly skipping his flight training?" he asked, not seeming surprised by this new information.

Feliciano turned scarlet. "Y-You've heard?"

"Of course I have heard. I am your commanding officer," Ivan replied, sounding almost amused. "I, ah, get reports about all the… troublemakers. Especially when they are as crucial as the medics."

Feliciano instantly seemed a bit panicked and flailed about. "I'm really not a troublemaker, signore! I just really don't like going to flight training because the humans aren't so kind, you see, because I'm the fluffwing, everyone enjoys knocking me out of the sky! I really don't like going. It's humiliating, to have humans belittling you," he blurted out. "Besides, my flight can't really be saved, so...!"

Ivan was startled by this outburst, and simply regarded Feliciano quietly for a few moments as they walked along. Feliciano only faltered and shrunk back slightly, not sure if Ivan's gaze heralded good or bad news.

Ivan couldn't help but feel slight pity for the fluffwinged male- it was never easy being born with wings like that, so downy and useless for flying. And it certainly must not be easy to try and maintain some level of respectability in the military of all places with wings like those- especially when one was supposed to be a Nation, the strange immortals who were meant to be more powerful and skilled than many humans combined.

It was no wonder Italy had always been bullied and harassed, even as a child.

"I will look into it," Ivan finally said, noncommittally. Feliciano seemed relieved, and continued to follow the general through the forest, feeling a little seed of hope planted in his heart.

Feliciano followed quietly for a few moments, which surprised Ivan, but neither of them did anything to break the silence. Feliciano spent the time walking admiring Ivan's wings and curiously looking them over. While Ivan could sense that Feliciano's gaze was on his wings, he didn't say anything; after all, it was quite normal for new acquaintances to assess each other's wings like this- a person's wings were unique and people could often tell each other apart by looking at wings alone.

Ivan's wings were huge, but considering how tall Ivan was, it wasn't a surprise. They were currently tucked close to his back, but the dusky violet-grey color was still easily visible. The feathers were strong-quilled and well preened, and it was obvious that they were very powerful. Ivan must be a strong flier, Feliciano mused to himself. From the looks of it, Feliciano thought, Ivan seemed to have eagle-type wings.

Feliciano's own wings were still ever so fluffy and downy-feathered, with mostly semiplume and down covering them. He had some flight feathers, but not many, and that was how he got labeled as a fluffwing. His lack of flight feathers kept him from being able to fly properly- a huge disadvantage during a war, and in life in general. But his large white wings were powerful as well- he simply had little control over them. His own wings resembled those of a peregrine falcon- or at least, they would, if he had proper flight feathers.

After musing over Ivan's wings for a few minutes, Feliciano sped up his trotting and once again ended up near Ivan's side. He followed along quietly, before beginning to chatter again. Ivan was surprised once more that Feliciano was being so open and friendly to him- he wasn't used to such friendly interaction- but nonetheless let Feliciano carry on. He was only half-listening at this point, but he figured that no harm could come of letting the fluffwing keep him company for a while.

Feliciano's wings fluttered slightly as he began to relax, and happily followed the taller man along. Ivan didn't seem so bad- at least he wasn't looking down on him about his wings like half the other soldiers did. He was still a little scary, though. (But then again, so was Ludwig, so Feliciano decided it would be counterproductive to just judge a book by its cover. He remembered Ivan being pleasant sometimes, during peacetime.)

Of course, the moment the two set foot into the camps once more, they were getting stares from anyone they passed, the area around them becoming noticeably silent. Feliciano shrunk back and tucked his wings as close to his body as he could, and tried to hide behind Ivan as they walked along- he didn't want any more tricks or pranks played on him today. And he definitely didn't want to be hit by a mean-spirited spell, especially not a fire-based one. It filled him with both shame and anger, to know he'd fallen to this level. Having to hide their identities as Nations during wartime made it so that Feliciano had to humble himself and not send flying all those who'd taunt him for his "birth" defect.

He knew all this unwanted attention, at least at the moment, was because he was with the General- they probably thought he'd gotten in trouble or something.

He trembled slightly under all the stares (and even some piercing glares), stressed, but straightened up proudly, almost defiantly, and followed Ivan along.

Ivan glanced back when he felt someone getting too close to his back, and only found Feliciano attempting to stand tall and march in line with him, although it caused the medic to stay a little too close. His gaze returned to the camps around them, and he straightened up, before ordering in a no-nonsense tone, "If you are having the time to stand around and stare, then you are having the time to work, da? Resume your work." The others in the area instantly scrambled back to where they should be, or where they were headed, and Feliciano felt the gazes finally leave him.

Feeling his heart swell slightly with admiration for Ivan, he continued to follow the other man along, wondering if he had done that to help him out. But Feliciano's heart quickly sank again when it occurred to him that Ivan probably simply didn't like anyone being lazy- it probably had nothing to do with his discomfort at all.

Noticing that Ivan was still just letting him follow along, Feliciano asked, "Signore… you really don't mind me being with you? You must realize how humans would perceive you associating with me, after all…?"

Ivan simply hummed. "As long as you do not get in the way of my work, I do not mind. And besides, I am very much aware of what you are. I, ah… would have to be blind not to," he replied, gesturing to Feliciano's fluffy wings.

Feliciano blushed in embarrassment. "I see… but I'm glad you don't mind!" he chirped in response, perking up. It wasn't often that anyone in the camps wasn't upset about having to be seen with him. Of course, another Nation would not care so much about human opinion. "Aha... You know, you're really nice, grazie mille!" Feliciano said brightly, his wings fluttering slightly in delight. Despite the stress he seemed to be under, his candid nature still shone through, blunt and simple and friendly. It surprised Ivan.

Ivan paused and looked at Feliciano, blinking for a moment. Usually, such a compliment was meant to be replied with a "thank you," but Feliciano had worded it as if his kindness had been a gift to him, instead requiring a "welcome." He found it interesting.

"You are welcome," he eventually murmured in response, before continuing on his way.

Feliciano spoke up again soon after. "Oh! Russia, have you had dinner yet?"

Ivan shook his head. "No, I have not."

"Then, do you think we could sit near each other and get dinner together?" Feliciano asked next, hopefully. He was often left to eat alone, simply because it wasn't very popular to be around him. (Humans were shallow things, he noted.) The loneliness was taking its toll on the usually very social Italian, especially after so much time being stuck in the camps during this war (which, officially, had lasted a year and three months already) where he was avoided for his little wing flaw.

Ivan nodded a bit, mostly just to appease the Italian. "I do not see why not."

"Won't your tablemates mind?"

Ivan gave Feliciano an amused look.

"Italiya, you were only transferred to this camp last month, correct?" Ivan asked. "Although, that should have given you plenty of time to realize that other Nations beside myself are here. I doubt the others will mind your presence."

Feliciano only felt even more embarrassed at that- he probably should have known that other Nations were around… He'd simply been so busy. Unless they came into the hospital wing, it was unlikely that he'd ever run into them, especially with so many people around to take care of!

"Oh… I see. Who else is here, then?" Feliciano asked curiously.

"We are joined by Greece, a messenger; Estonia, one of our strategists; England; head mage of the corps; and… ah, Poland, who has decided he would rather be a private to 'keep an eye' on the other soldiers from the inside…" Russia said, shaking his head slightly at the last part. "He mostly spends his time socializing, as opposed to gathering any useful information or ideas…"

Feliciano perked up in delight when he heard that Greece and Poland were here- they were both good friends of his, and he was glad that he had some friendly faces to look forward to at dinner. "Oh! I'm so glad some of the others are here!" Feliciano said brightly, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "At least they don't mind my wings… It'll be nice to be among familiar faces again."

Ivan only nodded in reply, giving Feliciano an amused look at the bright and cheery behavior.

"Ah! I have to go back to the hospital wing for evening rounds!" Feliciano said, suddenly remembering. "I'll meet up with you all for dinner- what time do you guys usually get it?"

"Around 20:00- a bit late, but we all have our duties to attend to," Ivan replied. "I will see you then."

Feliciano nodded brightly, glad that Ivan didn't seem opposed to having him join the little group. "Alright! I'll see you at eight!" he said, before beginning to trot off. A few paces away, though, he paused and turned around once more. "Ah, and I really am sorry about crashing into you! So if you ever need anything, come find me in the hospital wing!" Feliciano called out, giving a wave, before finally taking off, trying hard to avoid others, and keeping his wings tucked close to his body.

Ivan only chuckled slightly at the umpteenth apology the small Italian had given him, and went on his way, continuing through the camps towards the meeting tent.

At least, with Feliciano around, Feliks will have someone else to pester, he thought to himself, dryly. He mulled over this new situation, and mused over Feliciano himself.

Feliciano certainly was an interesting one…

A/N: And thus ends the first chapter of this new project of mine! Details such as the nature of the war and things will be covered as the story moves along.

Thanks for reading!

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