Quick A/N: I will be calling Southern Italy Romano in this story, because I like it better than Lovino. Everyone else will keep their human names, except Holy Rome. I'll prolly just call him "that boy" because I can't decide whether to come up with a new human name for him or call him Ludwig. Oh, and this is AU, by the way, which is why Feli gets into his position so early. () This was a rabid plotbunny that gnawed on my brain all throughout Europe, bla. So enjoy!
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Romano cracked an eye open, wary. The little room he stayed in with 19 other orphans was dark, and, apart from the children and bunks, empty. Impossibly silent, he lifted one leg over the banister surrounding his bed, then the other. One foot before the other, left, right… he crept down the ladder, and landed a little louder than he wanted to on the floor.

"Roma…?" his younger brother, Feliciano asked drowsily. "Sssh…" he whispered, panicked, "go back to sleep, Feli." The auburn-haired boy yawned and rolled over in his bunk, nestling further into the thin blanket covering him.

Romano promptly tucked himself into a corner, absolutely silent, until there was no doubt his younger brother was sound asleep. He pulled himself, winced at the noise of his knees popping, and reached under the bunk, pulling out a sack that held all of his meager possessions, along with a cracked sheet of parchment he had practically sold his soul to the devil to attain. He smoothed it out against his knee and laid it out on the floor, pulling a quill out of his pocket. Then, reaching into the burlap sack, he grabbed a half-emptied ((pessimist!)) bottle of crimson ink from its depths and popped the cork from its neck.

Feliciano,

I know you won't understand, but-

Romano realized that he had written in Italian. Who knew if his brother would still speak the language their father had always spoken to them in by the time he could read? The church that ran their orphanage taught them to read, write, and speak in Latin. Feliciano was 5 years old now. He probably would never write or read in their mother tongue. So sighing, Romano crossed out the Italian words and began anew in shaky, somewhat grammatically incorrect Latin.

Feli,

I know you believe in what the Fathers and Sisters and everyone else tell you, that you believe it with everything you have, and I respect that. You should be proud, little brother, to have such pure belief. But, I don't believe in what they tell me, no matter how many times I tell myself that what they say is true. I've lived almost all 8 years of my life with Papa telling me to only trust in what I truly believe, speaking in Italian, and doing whatever I please whenever. I'm bad with the Latin, I can't memorize all the prayers and scriptures like I'm supposed to, and I know I'll never be good at what they want us to do.

So, tonight, I'm running away. I want to tell you where, but someone besides you might find this, so I can't. I'm so sorry. Mi dispiace. You'll probably never see me again, but I'll try to write to write you. Thinking again, though, the Sisters probably won't let you see them.

One last thing, Feli. I love you, little brother. Ti amo, fratellino. And don't let anyone (including me) tell you differently.

Romano

A drop of water fell onto the paper, slowly spreading, blooming. Romano's eyes burned, and as he lifted a slightly trembling hand to his cheek, he realized that he was crying. He balled the hand and wiped the hot liquid off, rather angrily. He snatched up the paper, shook the tears off it as best he could, and folded it in three, writing "do not show this to anyone else" in a sort of pictograph that he hoped his brother would be able to understand. He then tucked it into Feliciano's fingers and slipped out of the orphanage forever.

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Some time, almost fifteen years later, the younger of the Vargas brothers watched with sleepy, half-lidded eyes as the last of the congregation filed out of his modest church settled in the Vatican. At this point in his life, he had all but forgotten about his elder brother. The first morning had been horrible, finding that letter he couldn't quite read, but never dared to ask what it said. Realizing that Romano wasn't in his bed, or even in the building. Figuring out that he would never be there again.

Forget him, the various nuns told him. He was always such a problem child, who cursed entirely too often and slacked off whenever possible. Forget he ever existed.

Feliciano complied. That little slip of paper was never unfolded.

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him to awareness. Turning, his eyes met kind but somehow fierce green ones. "Oh, hello, Elizaveta. You scared me!" he greeted cheerfully. The nun (though sometimes was a bit confused as to how she became a nun. She could be quite a pervert and was overly fond of using her black cast-iron skillet to solve her problems.) smiled at him. "Hey, Feli. That was quite a nice sermon you gave there, for someone so young! How old are you now, 20?"

The Italian nodded. "Yes, in about a month. March 17 is my birthday. And thank for the compliment, Sister, it's very kind of you."

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, looked like she was about to burst into laughter. "No twenty-year-old boy should speak like that! You seriously need to get out more, Feli."

He blinked and cocked his head to the side, quite obviously confused. "Get… out? Exactly where is this 'out'? And what is what is wrong with the manner in which I speak?"

She dropped her face into her hands and sat down in a nearby pew. "Oh good Lord, it's worse than I thought!" Thoroughly bewildered, the boy sat down next her and patted her shoulder rather hesitantly. "Ah… It is okay, Sister. I am sorry about whatever had caused you to become upset." ((Oh Jesus, Italy, you sound like Japan!))

Elizaveta lifted her face and sat up, cheerful again. "Feliciano, I have decided that you're getting an entire week off!" she proclaimed gleefully, grinning at the boy.

"But, what am I to do with this week, Sister? I have hardly ever been into the city, save for a couple of times to run errands for the orphanage, and know no one out there."

"Well, if I were you, I would just go around and talk to the people, you know? See if you can find a non-church friend and maybe someone to bunk with for a couple of days. I mean, make sure they're not a criminals, but other than that, become one with the cityfolk."

Feliciano still looked unsure. "But-"

"No buts, Mister! I am still your elder, and I'm ORDERING you to go out and have some fun!" Elizaveta insisted, pulling herself and the frazzled young cardinal ((not like the bird, like the religious status, lol)) off of the pew.

"We need to get you some civilian clothes. All these robes and funny hats and collars ain't gonna cut it, sweetie. You stay right here and read the bible or something, while I go shopping for some new clothes for you. You're the lucky one here, I can't take off this damn habit, and everyone knows what I am! Enjoy the world while you're still young and able!"

And with that, she skipped out of the white stone church, leaving a thoroughly confused Italian cardinal in her wake.

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"Eh! Boy!" a ragged, middle-aged man slurred angrily, glaring down at a young man kneeling on the oak deck of their ship, Append, head bowed down. His dark brown hair was tangled and covered up his face, or at least from the man's current perspective.

The "boy", who was named Romano and was in fact almost 23 years old, looked up, sneering. "Yes?" he replied, voice dripping with fake sincerity and scorn.

The man, however, as he was dead drunk, did not catch the tone of Romano's voice, and took another swig of his liquor, though most of the substance missed his open mouth, falling instead on his already stained shirt. Romano's lip jerked up in disgust. As a general rule, he despised drunkards, as it was a known fact that all Germans are drunkards, and he was fairly sure a German had killed his father. (Also, that little boy Feli had a crush on when he was younger- before they told him homosexuality was a sin- was a German, too, and he hadn't liked that boy one bit)

"Ah-" the man slurred, wobbling around slightly. "I'm waiting" Romano said venomously, hazel eyes narrowing dangerously as he pulled himself up from the deck.

"Um~ oh, yeah. We got a new cap'n, an' he wan's ta talk ta us all" The Italian rolled his eyes and shoved past the man, heading up towards the masts of the ship, where they held large meetings.

It was good that they were getting a new captain, truth be told. The previous one had softened with age. Their ship and her crew wasn't feared any longer. And as pirates, you wanted to be feared by everyone.

The majority of Append's crew was gathered around the masts, where Romano assumed the new captain stood. However, as he was considerably younger (and therefore, shorter) than the rest of the crew, he could see nothing but a bunch of revolting unwashed hair and bandanas, as well as the occasional stained hat. Growling, he shoved his way through the crowd, along the way picking up valuable information about their new leader. Apparently, his name was Antonio something or other, he was a 25 year old Spaniard, and had been on a ship nearly all of his life. To Romano, he sounded a bit young, but other than that, seemed fine.

After being cursed at and shoved back many times, the young pirate found his way to the front of the crowd, from where he could see their new leader. He was fairly tall, with messy, dark brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and excited green eyes, which were slowly but surely making their way over the crowd, observing them all. And as soon as the Spaniard's eyes fell on him, Romano hated him.

The previously mellow green pools darkened abruptly, and filled with a deep, burning sort of desire that made the Italian tingle everywhere. He had spent enough time in the seedy underbelly of Rome before joining the crew, and knew that look meant that nothing good.

And then the captain moved on, perfectly normal, if somewhat overly cheerful, over the remainder of the throng of people. Romano found himself somewhat frozen to the spot, staring blankly ahead and sweating profusely. W-what the hell? He thought, flustered, before allowing the crowd to swallow him up.

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So… yep. I'm planning lots of twists and turns and whatnot for this story, and it will be quite long (somewhere between ten and twenty chapters) compared to my usual one, two, and three-shots. You should review and favorite/subscribe, especially if you know anything about the Catholic Church! /shot for writing a story about the Catholic Church and knowing SQUAT about it! It's just so confusing! *le sob. So if you wanna PM me or you know, Beta this story, just go right ahead!

Character Guide For the Severely Confused:

N. Italy/ Feliciano: 19 years old, lives in the Vatican/Holy See. Is the pastor of a church and cardinal in the big Catholic variety.

Germany/Ludwig: 20 years old, lives in the Vatican, To be revealed! :P

S. Italy/ Romano: 22 years old, (don't question the fact that he's older than Germany, okay?) lives on the ship Append, Pirate underling, haha.

Spain/Antonio: 25 years old, lives on the ship Append, Pirate captain

Hungary/Elizaveta: 27 years old, lives in the Vatican, a nun, and everyone's perverted mother-figure XD

Oh, and Belgium/Bella is a chef on Append. She and a couple others will appear later!

Ciao~!

~Max-chan