Prologue: The Bet

Normally when one thinks of Heaven, they imagine it to be a calm, peaceful sort of place, one where nothing bad happened, a place where everything was perfect all the time…but that was different if you had two former nations that rivaled each other taking up space there as well. Times were never dull, whether on earth or in Heaven with the Roman Empire and Germania. Even in Heaven the two bickered, Rome was still his happy, overbearing self, while Germania was as quiet as ever, brooded silently as his companion chattered away aimlessly.

One particular day, however, the Roman Empire felt particularly restless as he sat near his friend. "I wish I could go and visit my grandsons," he sighed wistfully. "They are really such good boys."

Germania snorted, but said nothing. He had never been able to understand Rome's desire to keep returning to the land of the living…nor did he understand why God kept letting him go! "Both your grandsons are weak and selfish."

Rome sat up at this, glaring at his companion. "They may not like to fight, but they are not selfish! They are wonderful, precious gifts!"

"Worthless gifts," Germania scowled, crossing his arms. "If it were not for my grandson, both of yours would be dead by now."

It was Rome's turn to scowl now. He wanted so badly to inform the Germanic nation that his grandson and adoptive grandson were nothing to look at when he remembered his brief encounter with Germania's blood grandson, Germany. The boy had been every bit the fighter his grandfather had been and then some, and even the other boy, the one that had been known as Prussia, was also quite the fighter, known for his wicked sense of humor. Rome wanted to inform Germania that his grandsons had lost both the "World Wars" when he could only snap his mouth shut when he recalled that it was because of his own grandchildren that the others had lost.

"W-well, my grandchildren are beautiful and artistic and can cook!" Rome stuck his tongue out childishly. "And they are very great lovers. Not like your unfeeling brood."

Germania raised an eyebrow to this, as though asking if he was supposed to be insulted. "They are strong and have survived through great trials and defeats… unlike your soft grandchildren."

"If your children could learn to love like mine have, I think they would be much better off," Rome said, his mind suddenly turning from defending his grandsons' masculinity. "My grandsons could probably help yours with that…Ha! I bet that had one of us a granddaughter, one of the other's grandsons would fall in love with her."

The blonde scowled. "Don't be ridiculous," Germania growled. "No self-respecting German would fall in love with an Italian…or at least not an Italian nation."

"I bet you that if either my Feliciano- God bless him!- or your Ludwig had been a woman, the other would have fallen deeply in love with the other by now. They are both so close, no?"

Germania was not a man that wore his heart on his sleeve and he did not show much of anything most of the time. He hardly ever smiled and rarely complimented. But that being as it was, deep down, Germania was proud of his grandson, even the adopted Prussian grandson of his. Germany was his shining star, the one that showed the world all of the greatest qualities of the German peoples. And the thought of his grandson throwing away all of his commonsense to run off with an Italian bink really upset him.

"Ludwig would never run off with one of your relations," the blonde growled. "He loves order and logic too much to let his mind be melted with Italian nonsense."

"Oh, you think so?" Rome asked, his eyes twinkling.

"I know so," Germania stated firmly.

"Would you care to make a wager?"

"What?" the blonde turned sharply towards the other, his scowl deepening.

"Care to make a wager?" the brunette's smile turned almost sinister.

"What the hell are you talking about?" the other snapped. "What would we be wagering on?"

"That Ludwig and Feliciano would fall in love, of course!" the empire exclaimed brightly. "I will show you, Mr. Grumpy Storm Cloud, that an Italian is a true lover, and can make anyone, even a German, fall in love!"

Germania stared at his companion for a long moment in concentration, as though trying to figure out if the other was serious or not. When the blonde realized that the other was indeed serious, Germania nearly started screaming. He was not usually the yelling type; however, Rome always seemed to bring that side of him out. "You," the German began, the Italian on the edge of his seat, so to speak, "are an idiot. My grandson is not ever going to fall in love with yours, so just stop right now."

Rome pouted while he turned away from his friend. "It was just a thought," he mumbled.

The German sighed before turning away. "I would say you'd be the death of me, but we're already dead," he said before turned and walking away, mumbling something about needing to find better company. But Rome was not all that discouraged by his companion's dour mood. He was used to it after all! No, the Roman Empire was not at all dissuaded.

With a mischievous gleam twinkling madly in his eye, he went to go ask God a favor…

Author's Note: Behold, my insanity! *facepalm* Dear Lord, this is going to be something twisted and ridiculous, but I can't. Stop. Thinking about it! This is going to get crazy and wild, I'm sure, so please bear with me on this. It's just a slight twist to an already used idea by others, only I feel the need to write my own of this…Please review and let me know what you think. Thanks everyone! :)