Ok so this story happened when one of my friends pointed out during our World History class that because I am half Mexican and half Spanish, I raped and rampaged over my own people. Well that was a great inspiration right? Well I found a way to channel it into a Hetalia story.

So basically, this is told from Romano's perspective and he is reminiscing so everything is in past tense because it's in his memories. Also I warn that he is out of character, I tried to give him his personality while he was talking, but this is all his thoughts, and who really knows how he thinks? This is also trying to give an explanation as to why he is so bitter, it's not supposed to be historically accurate, but it was fun to write.

Oh and before you get confused, everything in italics are direct memories, so they include the dialogue and exactly what happened at the time instead of Romano recalling it from familiarity.

Hetalia doesn't belong to me, and if it did I'd probably fuck it up because I fall asleep during most of the period of my history class

I remember when Spain first brought her; she was a small bundle wrapped in his bloodied white shirt. She was screaming. Spain smiled cruelly and announced, "Lovi, say hello to your new sister."

She was younger than I, which I took pride in, for I was always looked down as a child compared to other countries. But she was even smaller, so tiny; sometimes I feared, whenever I dragged her throughout Spain's mansion, I'd accidentally rip off her dainty arm. Back then she went by Aztec Empire.

When Spain first brought her, I also noticed a drastic change in his personality. His usual awkward goofiness disappeared and was replaced with stern irritation, his bright smile was a dark smirk and his emerald eyes were closer to black. Instead of coming home to me, the bastard spent more time drinking with his stupid friends. I blamed her.

I knew I shouldn't have, but she seemed like the only explanation at the time. She had

been quickly adopted into Spain's tradition and language and I felt nothing but jealousy. In the beginning I always argued with the toddler, yelling at her for every little mistake she didn't know she made. Sometimes she'd argue back, but mostly she was just too exhausted, from what I didn't know at the time, and took my verbal abuse.

"Dumbass, can't you do anything right!" I screeched at the little Aztecan. She looked at me confused, glancing back at Spain's bed, it must've been the fourth time I was making her re-do it.

"What did I do wrong now?" She sighed heavily, I felt guilty. Nothing was wrong with it; I was simply trying to elicit a response from her, being she hadn't argued with my impossible demands for a week now.

"You Chile-Dumbfuck, what didn't you do wrong?" She shook at my words, she was so petite.

Her eyes held tears but she refused to let them fall, "S-Sorry Romano" she then proceeded to take off the large satin comforter again.

I wasn't until Spain took another one of his 'special trips' that I understood what was happening. The second night he was gone I heard her screaming, I hadn't heard her so agonized since the first day he brought her home. I ran to her designated room to find her small form contorting itself in ways I didn't realize was possible. I ran to her bed and cradled her in my lap; I didn't know what else to do.

She was just too little, I hadn't seen how starved her body was despite how often I cooked for her. Her limbs were so light I believed it was merely skin stretched across rough bone and nothing else. After a period of time she calmed down and remained in my lap, panting in pain. She was clutching my night shirt while sobbing in it quietly; I pulled my hand to her cheek to find her chubby infant face was stained. She winced and I brought my hand full of the thick liquid closer to my face. In such darkness I couldn't recognize what it was at first, but in at close proximity I could smell the metallic scent enter me like a drug.

After that, I allowed her to sleep in my bed, if only to provide comfort. Each morning while Spain was gone on his 'trips' I'd find new wounds on her body, whether they be gashes, bruises, or burns, I'd treat them obediently. It wasn't long until I was naturally calling her Sorella and she was calling me Hermano. I was easier on her, but she didn't like it, she wanted to be treated without pity. What do you know, even little girls could equal in a man's pride.

From then, we both knew it was something we had to live around. Spain came and left, I didn't bother any attention toward him anymore, his presence alone disgusted me. My mind was spent on taking care of my little sister and acting like a servant for Spain, an actual one. I no longer cursed toward him or acted like his spoiled kid, rather I waited on him like I was supposed to with an unbiased opinion. He had called me out on my mannerisms a few times, but I simply ignored him, I no longer desired any personal association with him.

We were all content in our exchange for a few habitual years, but then it had become worse. One night at random while Spain was 'out' she began clawing at my back and screaming my name. It was strange, for she usually waited until morning to address to me of her new injuries. I was weary and simply tried to ignore her; as a new adolescent preteen, growing pains left me fatigued. Finally, fed up with the new gnawing pain in my back from her nails, I turned around to face her.

I bolted upright off of our bed to light a candle after seeing her face. Fumbling with the candle holder, I sat back down to get a better look. There was now a gash along her face, stretching across her cheek and over the bridge of her nose, it looked scary, it was black in color, almost as if she'd took ashes and swiped it across her face, except this wasn't charcoal paint, it was split open skin and bleeding violently. I was panicked and grabbed for the emergency kit I kept for her, gently patting away the blood in clots, she whimpered.

"…He-Hermano…" she moaned in pain, while I slowly pressed the tape over cotton onto her face.

"Sì Sorella"

"T-The pain…"

"I know, but let me patch it first."

"No!" she shook he head violently, stopping me from bandaging her face, "The…pain, isn't there" she spoke hesitantly.

"Then where?" I was confused, looking over her figure. I began pulling the sheets, realizing she had entangled her entire body in a web of blankets. The sheets began to slowly retreat from her figure, I blushed slightly. She had grown just like me, still younger though obviously; there was just the minor detail that her night dress clung to her new forming waist, giving her a bit of a soft curve, but it was mostly due to her lean starving body. Only having to pull a bit farther I found the destination she meant and I gasped in horror.

On her white gown were her legs met underneath, there was a stain of splattered blood. I raced every crevice in my mind for an explanation, and found only two. And I knew her body was still too young to have menstrual cycle, though I prayed to God in my mind she was an early starter.

Checking, I gently placed both of my hands on either side of her soft face and stared into her dark almond eyes. "H-How did it hurt?" I wished I hadn't sounded so shaken the moment the words left me.

She merely tilted her head and gave me a confused look, her appearance was so soft and innocent I wanted to sob, I wanted her to still be pure.

"W-what kind of….feeling was it" I tried again.

Her eyebrows furrowed and she bit onto her lip, I could feel her body quiver, "It…it felt like something," she started crying lightly, "i-it felt like so-something was in me! It h-hurt Hermano, I feel torn…down there" she wept, glancing down at the blood stain.

I had held onto her all night, refusing to let go. I cried into her hair, while she sobbed into my shirt. There was neither cure nor bandage for that kind of damage. Once her erratic breath had shallowed and I calmed as well, I whispered a string of prayers in her ear; prayers all for her well-being and one cursing Antonio for steeling such a virtue from her. After that night she took an interest in my Catholic church.

I wish it was a one-time pain for her, but almost every night she'd wither in the same agony of the invisible force. All I could do was comfort her, wishing I could take away all her suffering, even if it meant that I'd have to take it ten-fold. This continued for three months until Spain returned.

I looked in the mirror in the long hallway to get to the kitchen. I noted the dark bags under my eyes, but I didn't mind, I was allowing my sister the day off by letting her sleep in. It was the extent of what I could do, and my insides clenched in self-hatred that I couldn't do more.

I quickly made it to the kitchen, pulling out many ingredients including a fresh basket of chilies. I always preferred tomatoes, but yesterday while Aztec was cleaning the great room, I finished my cleaning fast to go through Spain's garden and pick a bunch of ripe chilies, knowing they were her favorite. I thought I'd surprise her with a nice breakfast in bed and then doing her work for the day. I was eager to see her happy face, it has seemed to have vanished and I longed to witness it again even if it would only be for a brief time.

As I was pulling out a bowl, I heard heavy clad boots echo down the hallway. My eyes widened and I dropped the bowl; the shatter of the glass was barely audible in my ears. Shaking, I placed my hands on the counter and shifted my weight on it as well.

"Oh Lovi, your so clumsy" I heard a voice tease.

Rotating my head slightly, I turned to look at Spain, but my gaze couldn't reach his face; I stopped upon studying his outfit. He conquistador outfit was adorned with dirt and blood which made me uneasy. I wanted so badly to run to my room and wake Aztec, to punch Antonio in the stomach to provide a distraction, to do something! Instead I stood there, any confidence I'd ever had in my short life left, draining out of my pores.

I heard his footsteps draw nearer to me, but I couldn't focus my eyes enough to really see the action. I felt his strong hands grab either side of my waist and hoist me up. I scrunched me eyes tightly in fear of whatever he was planning, but soon relief washed over me in a soothing wave as he sat me down on the tile countertop to be eye level with him.

"Lovi, you're so strange! I can never read what you're thinking, it's so cute!" I slowly peeled my eyes open upon hearing the giggle in his voice. I saw Spain's eyes shining a light green and his wonderful goofy smile displayed on his face. I was soon sobbing in his chest.

It had been strange and harmful, like knife aimed at my spine; I couldn't muster complete hatred toward Antonio, as much as I wanted to. I wanted so much to hate him for what he was doing to my Sorella, but at the same time I wanted him to hold me like his child again, to spoil me, to love me like he did before he decided to conquer the Aztec Empire.

Spain stayed home for a long time once he returned after that, I was grateful because I noticed Sorella's scars begin their healing process. I was happy because Spain was acting like his old self; stupidly ridiculous. What I hadn't favored was how Sorella was anxious around him, while he acted like he had done nothing wrong. As though he was blind to the red intricate scars painting her arms and legs, as well as the still healing gash along her face that was slowly dissipating into a thin scar line.

While Aztec and I were cleaning the formal living room, Spain pounced in with his big idiotic grin plastered on his face. I watched as he swooped Aztec into his arms for a big hug like the ones he gave me. I saw her face cringe and her body tense; I debated whether it was due to the healing black bruise she had on her chest or the close proximity she was to the one who caused it.

"İOh mi pequeño bebé! You're so sweet, and cuddly! I love you so much Nueva España!" he sang to her scared form.

"Hey Tomato-Basterd, we have work to do!" I growled. It was the first time I cursed at Antonio in years and the old nickname sounded foreign on my tongue. I ignored the feeling; I had to get Aztec out of his arms. The way he chanted the given nickname 'New Spain' sent chills down my back.

"Oh Lovi, you're so clingy to your sister, can't Papá España spend time with his little colony?" Spain cooed.

"Get the fuck out, we have to clean" I snarled. I wanted him to put her down; I was ready to kick his shin if only to guarantee her welfare.

He pouted but fulfilled my request and gently let her slide down his chest, I let out the breath I was holding once I heard the soft clack of her shoes tap against the floor. He left in a sulky mood, I didn't care. I ran to her and held her trembling body close to mine.

"Sorella, you're safe" I murmured in her ear softly.

It was then that I realized how dependent we had become to each other.

So this is the first chapter and I hoped you liked it, considering while typing I was switching between listening to Rammstein and Lady Gaga. I was as bipolar as Spain while listening to it.

So it's rated M because of the next two chapters. I know this one was kind of censored, but I wanted to emphasis their innocence as young nations. But if you really couldn't keep up with it, basically Spain is conquering and raping Aztec/Mexico's lands and it is affecting Aztec's body as a newborn nation.

I started chapter 2 and was going to let it be part of chapter 1, but decided against it because it plays around with different couples. So I'll just hold off for a little bit.

Reviews would be nice and motivational, I don't mind criticism, and if you flame or hate comment then that just shows what kind of person you are. *rant over*

Translations

Because I know I get frustrated not knowing different languages and having to use Google translate

Hermano-(Spanish) Brother

Sorella-(Italian) Sister

İOh mi pequeño bebé!-(Spanish) Oh my little baby!

Nueva España-(Spanish) New Spain

Papá España-(Spanish) Daddy Spain