Here's an angst-y piece on what might possibly be an alternative ending on Hetalia—though this ending might take time somewhere far in the future where all of us no longer exist. I don't own Hetalia nor I'm meant to say dreadful things on these countries, since this is just a work of (fan) fiction. This idea came from after I read economy article on how European Union could learn about 'being big' from Holy Roman Empire. It made me wonder on how these nations we all know and adore will eventually perish one day. I imagine they don't die like us human do, but they still have to go in the very end.

This piece was partly inspired by amazing song by Hannah Miller "Promised Land". It's on YouTube (watch?v=_wVRgFU23SU), so if you want to listen to it, I believe it will enhance your reading experience.

Darkness at my door
Knock knock on my door
Left the light burning through the night
Prayin' for the moon

Italy had thought that dying would be so much more painful.

But he felt strangely content with his situation.

Standing on barefoot, the auburn-haired Italian leaned to the window, eyes to empty streets outside. Everything felt like a peculiar dream instead of nightmare that ended his life as a nation. Even though the European Union was so big and powerful, its decline was unmistakable. It was only economy at first. But then the climate changed, the disease came, and everything went bad enough to kill nations.

Dressed in simple but comfortable hospital gown, Italy went back to his bed, sitting on the clean and white room alone. The hall outside was filled with distant chatter. His eyes were slowly filled with tears as he remembered seeing his beloved friends fell one by one—his brother Romano, big brother France, Spain, and England… even the strong Switzerland at the very end must submit to their fate.

Italy wasn't sure where he was at the moment. He knew he was in some kind of a hospital. He knew he was badly damaged. To think that people used to say it was almost impossible to hurt them… but now, it was even hard for Italy to just stand for a couple of minutes. He was so weak, so fragile…

His eyes were once filled with tears again.

He didn't get to see him fell into ruin. Italy knew he was strong. He was the strongest in Europe, after all. A sad smile crept into Italy's lips. But Grandpa Rome was once the strongest in the Europe. Holy Roman Empire was too. Then there were the Mongols and China. The Mongols were so strong in the past. China was deemed as immortal. But the plague didn't only rob the life of those of European Nations. Italy thought about big, strong Russia and unbelievably invincible America. Would they survive? Or had they fall down as well as he sat here?

Heaven hold my hand
Still my trembling hand
Oh my lord must've dropped my sword
Somewhere in the sinking sand

For sometime, Italy had knew that he would meet his end someday. That was why he decided to enjoy his time around as much as he could when it was possible. Thank God Grandpa Rome introduced him to art. He had a lot of fun. He lived enough… didn't he?

Italy slowly opened his eyes to the blinding white of his surrounding. If this were a hospital, where would it be located? The street outside was packed with enough buildings that it was impossible for the hospital to be somewhere so remote, yet everything was so quiet. Maybe he was still on the central of Europe; only that everything outside had died down. Or maybe he wasn't on earth anymore—not that Italy cared too much about it.

He found a conveniently available crutch next to the door. With its help, Italy walked outside his room and ventured the rest of the hospital. He found Japan. Japan couldn't even sit. While Italy sobbed next to him, Japan muttered on how he wasn't strong at all after all this time.

He found Spain. He found England. He found France. He even found his brother. He also found others like Hungary, Austria, and Lithuania. On the next hall, he found India, Australia, Hong Kong, and even New Zealand. Italy didn't know whether he had to feel sad because they were all sent here or happy because he wasn't alone. His legs were almost giving up on him. But Italy didn't want to stop yet. There's one more person he had to found. He had to absolutely find him…

With stomach churned, Italy found Russia slept next to New Zealand's room. America's room was next to his. He looked well enough to stand with his hands on his hips, facing the window on his room. But before Italy stepped in, he could hear him sobbing about his people, in a voice very unlike America he knew…

Italy continued his journey. By now, he was panting and exhausted. There was no nurse, nor doctor. By now, Italy had guessed that perhaps they were left there to rest before they, as nations, die. Italy felt sick. Maybe Holy Roman Empire was here for sometime before he dissolved. Maybe Grandpa Rome did too. Italy could only hope that they felt the peace he enjoyed back on his room.

Weary of this fight
This long and lonesome fight
Every step I take I feel farther away
Can't get it right

If I can't find him on the next room, I will give up, Italy told himself, before making extra effort to walked to the next door.

He couldn't help but to make choking noise as he was exposed to the tall figure. That wide back and golden hair… Germany was turning around by the sound of him and they ran to each other before he knew it.

Italy almost collapsed against Germany. His breathing was ragged, but he was still crying when he saw Germany battered and bruised; torso and arms covered in bandage, one eye hidden underneath more bandage, usually slick hair messy, scars on neck and cheeks…

"Oh Germany…" Italy sobbed, using some of his last strength to embrace the other nation, shaking uncontrollably.

"Ja?" Germany gently placed Italy on his arms, wincing and freezing in pain as he did. Italy said nothing. He could only sobbed in sadness and relief. "It's funny, isn't it, Feliciano? Even I had to go here in the end…" A streak of tear traveled down his cheek from his uninjured eye. Italy looked up and kissed his tears, even though his face was wet with tears as well.

"Oh Germany, Germany… Ludwig…" he hold Germany's face, shaking his head, biting his lip so he wouldn't tremble. "I'm so sorry…"

Germany shook his head as well. "It can't be helped, Italy. Even the Great Roman Empire had came to und end, no?"

Italy nodded, even though he tear up again at the mention of Grandpa Rome.

For a moment, they just hold on to each other, wincing at their pain, tears streaming down their face, body shuddering against each other. Even without saying it, Italy knew that the only thing that awaited them was oblivion.

He was so afraid of death back then—on that tomato crate on the day he met Germany. He was still afraid of death now, but he no longer had any regret. He no longer wanted to be spared by anyone. Nations had to die in the end. Humanity couldn't survive forever. But they all had their moments. And that was enough. That was enough for Italy.

"Ludwig?"

"Hm?"

"Where do you think we're going after this?"

"I have no idea."

"Ve… even though you're so smart."

"Yeah. Funny, isn't it?"

"Hey, Ludwig?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope wherever we go after this, I can still make pasta."

"I'm sure you can, Feliciano. I'm sure you can."

Now I'm stumbling
Towards the promised land
I am stumbling
Towards the promised land