France hated war.

It wasn't because he was a coward and afraid to fight, because he wasn't. France was always more than willing to fight for a cause he believed in. Even if that cause was sometimes just 'I can't let that other guy win'. France had fought in many battles, some that he won, and others that he lost. Usually France was fighting for the right cause, other times...Let's just say that France believed he had been right at the time and leave it at that.

No matter how many wars France had been a part of though, no matter how many different battles he had fought, there was one thing that remained constant throughout all of them.

France simply hated war.

France liked to think of himself as a lover, not a fighter. The only reason he joined these pointless battles in the first place was to defend what he cared about...and occasionally because the other side was comprised of stupid jerks, or had something that he wanted and weren't willing to share. But that was besides the point!

Alright, so maybe France wasn't exactly as against war as he liked to think that he was, but this...this situation was what France hated, more than anything else.

The battle had been going on for days now, and it showed. Not a single country involved hadn't been affected by it. And that was just this one battle, which was to say nothing about the rest of the war, which was getting far too out of hand. All of the countries, whether they were directly involved in the battles or not, were wounded. Their cities were being destroyed, and their people were dying.

This had to stop.

It was only because of sheer luck that France had stumbled upon an opportunity to do just that. He had broken away from the rest of the allies, just for a moment so he could clear his head and just get away from the battle for a bit. He hadn't meant to go far, but everywhere France turned there were signs of destruction and chaos. He could barely take a step without almost tripping over someone who was wounded or dead.

Not wanting to be around so much death France ran until he wasn't near it all anymore. He barely realized that he had gone too far and crossed over enemy lines. Still, the place was basically deserted and France thought it would be a nice place to just calm down and gather his thoughts before heading back into the chaos. France barely even noticed that somebody else was there.

...Until that somebody turned and France realized just who it was.

Germany.

France froze when he saw Germany, their biggest enemy, just standing there right out in the open. Germany hadn't noticed him, because France just happened to be hidden out of view because of some convenient rocks. But not only could France see Germany, he also had the perfect shot of him.

Just one bullet. That was all it would take for this war and all of the nonsense and suffering that came with it to end. Germany would fall, and Japan and Italy, as well as all of their other allies, wouldn't be far behind.

The war would be theirs.

Everything would go back to being the way that it should be.

France lifted his rifle and carefully took aim. He had a clear shot and his hand was steady. He was ready. France didn't exactly want to do this, because it was always a shame when any of the countries were destroyed completely, but he had to do this for the greater good. Everybody would be better off with Germany gone.

Everybody…

'No', France reminded himself. 'Not quite everybody would be better off'. He could think of one person, one naive, cowardly, stupid person who would be very upset if anything were to happen to Germany.

For reasons that France didn't quite understand his younger brother Italy had become very fond of Germany who, in return, had grown to be quite protective of Italy. Nobody had expected the two of them to become such close friends, and yet they had. Italy would be devastated to learn of Germany's death.

France frowned and tightened his grip on his rifle. He couldn't worry about Italy right now. He had a responsibility to end this war, no matter the price. If Germany had to be killed, than so be it. Italy would get over it someday. After all, it wasn't like Italy hadn't gone through this before.

France froze as a sharp feeling of guilt and regret came over him. France's previously steady hands began to shake. France shook his head and tried to force the feelings away. He clutched tightly at the rifle and tried to keep it as steady as he could. France took a deep breath and began to pull back on the trigger.

...and then he stopped.

France took in a shuddering breath and lowered his rifle. The sorrow and regret built up within him causing tears to come to his eyes. France couldn't kill Germany. If the circumstances were different, he would be able to go through with it. But France couldn't bring himself to kill Italy's lover...not again.

Italy, who was never one to hold grudges, or even get angry in the first place, had immediately forgiven France for what had happened to Holy Roman Empire, but that didn't mean that France forgave himself.

Holy Roman Empire had just been a kid. He had been Italy's first love. How could France forgive himself for causing such pain to come to his younger brother? France could barely handle the guilt of having done it once, he couldn't do it all over again.

Granted, Germany and Italy weren't exactly lovers, but France believed that it was just a matter of time. He considered himself an expert on love, and there was definitely something more between the two of them.

France could see it in the way that Italy continuously returned to Germany's side, no matter how many times he had been yelled at. He could see it whenever Germany saved Italy from whatever trouble he had gotten himself into that day.

France knew that they had to have deeper feelings for each other. Why else would Germany, who was a dedicated soldier, allow Italy, who was nothing even close to a soldier, to be his ally during such a world changing war? And if Italy didn't care for Germany, then why did he want to be right by his side, no matter how many battles they faced?

The two of them may not even realize how they felt, but they would someday. France couldn't bring himself to destroy such a love before it even had a chance to get anywhere. He couldn't do that to his little brother...not again.

France sighed and ever so quietly began the trek back to where his own allies were. He would continue to fight, because this nonsense war had to end. He and the rest of the allied forces would eventually win this war and defeat Germany.

Defeat...but not destroy.

There was no reason why this war had to ultimately end in death. In fact, France promised to himself right then that he would personally see to it that both Italy and Germany would make it out of this war alive. They deserved the chance to be with each other. That is, once they realized that they wanted to be together.

Knowing that the two of them could be a little dense sometimes, whether about feelings of the heart (Germany) or just dense in general (Italy), that would probably take awhile if they were left to their own devices…

So, it was decided! After this war was over France was going to make sure that the two of them got together. Because heaven knows that it might never happen if he didn't interfere.

"Ah, where would the two of them be without me?" France smiled slightly to himself and looked up at the sky.

"Italie et Allemagne, je vous souhaite le meilleur."

A/N: That last line that France says translates to "Italy and Germany, I wish you the best." If I'm wrong about the translation, I sincerely apologize. My French isn't very good yet, so I had to look up some of the words. It looks right though.