Ahhh, a prompt fic courtesy of Tumblr, I present my final piece! Enjoy and read on!

"Italy, please come out. You haven't eaten anything today, you need to"

"Go awaaaay…" the muffled answer was filled to the brim with sorrow. Romano gave an exasperated sigh and slammed his palms down on the door. He was tired with this already, done with his brother's shut-in attitude. His brother needed to eat, and see sunlight, but it had to be that day. It had to be the single most depressing day for Italy. The unofficial date of death for the Holy Roman Empire. The day in which Italy always locked himself away from the world and painfully relived the memories he had with Holy Roma. Romano felt bad for his brother. He hated to see him so depressed and nostalgic. Nations should never be this ensnared by the past to the point of complete failure to even leaving their home.

"Please, fratello let me in. Can I talk to you?"

Four heartbeats passed, Romano counted, before the door finally creaked and Italy peeked through the crack, the redness of his sunken eyes broadcasting the amount of tears shed.

"What do you want to talk about Lovi?" Feli said in a hoarse whisper, opening the door a smidgen more. Romano gave a large sigh, unsure suddenly of his next steps. The information he had, the weight in held and carried could crush or build up his brother. He had the ability to change everything. He could fix his shit-ass attempts of keeping them apart. He could finally face his fears about this budding romance his brother had begun so long ago.

"I want to talk about something….that you should know. Please let me in so we can talk Feli"

The door shut, and Romano remained locked out of Feliciano's depressive cave. He knew it was pointless to press the issue and turned to walked downstairs when the door open and Feliciano's hand shot out to grab Romano's closet body part, his wrist being the thing caught in his grip. Romano let Italy lead him into the dimmed room. The room was close to being in complete rubble, bed sheets, pillows and comforters all thrown into a large castle-like structure near the large wall-length window in the room. Candles lit the darkness of the gloom, illuminating pictures browned with age, stained by water, and wrinkled from semi-poor storage. Drawers were now opened and contained items of visible connection to the Holy Roman Empire, items that held personal value to Italy, and papers with Holy Roma's name. The one thing above it all, illuminated by its surrounding candle entourage was the Iron Cross Germany had given to Italy in World War 2. Never once had Romano seen his brother take it off from around his neck. It sent a fearful shiver down his spine.

"What was it that you wanted to talk about fratello?" Italy asked, sitting down on his bare bed, curling up with one of the few blankets not yet in use for his weird fort. Romano joined him, jumping on and scooting around until they were face to face. Romano's eyes gazed over to the Iron Cross briefly, then back to his brother's emptied, dimmed eyes.

"Feli….This is something I found out a long time ago, and I've been hiding it from you for reasons I now realize are outright selfish and rude"

Feliciano stayed silent, tilting his head to one side before sniffling and wiping unwanted tears suddenly falling off their requested perches. Romano brushed his fingers under his brother's eyes, stopping the attempts to wash the tears away.

"Brother….what I'm going to tell you will hurt, but I hope with everything I have that it will make you happy to know. The truth is the Holy Roman Empire never died. He never was killed when he left you"

Feli's self-control broke into shards, the sobbing coming on loud and proud, the tears falling in babbling brooks of pain. He started to curl up, but before he could, Romano brought him to up face him. Romano's eyes shimmered with his tears, the escape artist among them falling down his cheeks.

"I know that you've spent over a thousand years mourning and crying and waiting for him. I'm sorry that I never told you this"

"H-how is that true?!" Italy sputtered, wisps of anger taking hold of his features. "You could just be lying to me to make me feel better!"

"I am not lying fratello. I'm not lying to you, I promise. I was given this information a long time ago, and….

"And I hoarded it. I was afraid of what would happen. I was scared that history would repeat itself cruelly for you, and I never wanted to see you hurt again. I now see that my fear was wrong. It's time to tell you the truth"

Italy's anger faded, and anxiousness filled his vision, "W-what is it?"

"The Holy Roman Empire never died. He reincarnated after his unofficial death date, and came back the day of the Empire's official dissolution in August. He would not be fully recognized as a nation until October years late, however. As you should know, when the Holy Roman Empire broke up, the nations within it scattered and soon formed a new united country. I think it was called the 'Rhine' or something along those lines"

Italy remembered the name well; the nation was in the upper north alongside Prussia after the fall of Holy Roma. The collection of nations did not last long, as it began with Napoleon's rule, but after that, the memories fade and blur at the seams.

"After that, Prussia helped formed what would become the reincarnation of your first love; the actual living body of him. Prussia found him in that same black cloak and hat he always wore, buried in a stone tomb in one of the underground dungeons of a castle. When he finally got the tomb open, the boy was alive, asking what year it was…

"…and who he was. He had no memory of himself, of you, of the wars. He was a blank book"

Down came the tears in great streams, strings of rapid but cipher able Italian falling from Italy's lips. Romano collected his brother up in a hug, finding no resistance from his sobbing sibling. The sobbing country took a while of uninterrupted silence to relax back into coherent thoughts and able composure. He sat back down on his knees in front of his patient, silent brother again.

"Are you sure you want me to continue Italy?" Romano asked softly. Italy nodded as he wiped a few stubborn tears away.

"Alright then. After Prussia's discovery, he slowly raised him up again until he could stand on his own as a country. It was a long process, and through it all, the little boy dreamed of the memories he had forgotten. Prussia would have to wake him up as he screamed in his sleep, muttering your name. He seemed only to find them in his sleep, where they tormented him with your image, but blurred out, unable to recognize who you were. It was agony for him. Even to this day, he still doesn't seem to recognize you in the memory-dreams he's plagued with"

Italy stayed silent during the pause Romano allowed in his explanation. Nothing clinked in his head about the information given to him. Nothing seemed to match the missing gears in his memory. He rarely had contact with any Germanics for a while, at least face to face. Sure, his brother had things to do with them sometimes, but nothing came for him. He studied Romano's frown for a moment, trying to understand why his brother was somehow disappointed.

"Well…this small country Prussia had risen…um…"

"Come on fratello, tell me please" Italy begged.

"The Holy Roman Empire became Germany, Feliciano. Germany is the true, adult reincarnation of Holy Roma"

Simultaneously, in another country in Europe, two were in celebration. Well, at least one was excited, the other rather anxious to get it over with. It was October 3rd again, meaning Germany aged once more and Prussia had decided to make it a private, and somehow more serious. Now huddled face to face on the living room floor, with the news broadcasting the Nation celebration for the German's birthday, Prussia gave his brother a quick once-over look and smiled with content.

"Bruder, why are you doing this again?" Germany asked, continuing his string of questions as to why Prussia drew this celebration out. Prussia finally gave way to the questions, and set a box in-between them. The box upon further inspection was old, water-damaged, and poorly kept together. The old box must have been centuries old at least, and how it survived belittled Germany. It was tied delicately with a black and gold ribbon, giving the old box a weird regal look Germany could not place. He looked up at Prussia for confirmation that this was the reason for the seriousness. Prussia nodded, understanding the silent question, and pushed it closer to Germany.

"Open it. This has been sitting in my possession for a long time, waiting for this day so it can be revealed"

Confused by the words Prussia spoke, Ludwig hesitantly moved to open the old box package, plucking at the ribbons enough for them to unravel on their own, surrounding the old cardboard like a cloak. Germany slowly opened the lid, spreading them apart as far as they could go, and stared at the contents of the box.

At first, all he could see was a pile of black fabric and barely a peek of what he assumed was gold or metallic thread. He pulled at the black rippling fabric until it all came out, and suddenly it made sense.

In his hands were a cloak, a cloak that seemed hauntingly familiar, and a torn up hat that as well sent familiar shivers up and down his spine. He couldn't place the familiarity, the truth just out of reach until he saw truly looked at the hat and cloak closely, staring into the still reflective golden trims and saw into infinity.

No, not infinity. His past. His past was coming alive right in front of his eyes.

Long stretches of memories hit and stabbed at his consciousness, revealing a much forgotten time for Germany. Times of peace and love, times of war and bloodshed. Times with Austria and ruling the many countries apparently under his thumb. Then there was….t-there was…

Was that…Italy?

He stepped out of reality and retreated into the flooding memories, relaxing into one of great importance as it swallowed him whole and let him see the events as if he were living it real time. His eyes followed a person retreating from him, the green dress she wore galloping with her. His vision blurred and another memory was thrown at him. The girl…

No, it's not a girl. It never was. It was Italy. Italy in a dress. Young and perfect Italy in a dress looking forlorn and saddened.

"Goodbye Italy"

He turned from Italy, and shouted to turn back around. He was stuck however seeing through what he truly saw. As he walked alongside the soldiers of his home, the high, pre-puberty (read: no-balls-dropped) voice of Italy cut through the air clean, shocking him.

"Please don't leave me, NO!"

He stopped in his tracks, turning to Italy as she clutched a small broom, and white frilly thing tied near the base. Italy stepped closer as he neared her, extending out the broom to him.

"Please, take this, so you can remember me"

"A pushbroom?" he reached for it cautiously, questioning the importance of the broom as he held it until another flash back came to him, a time when he saw Italy pushing the push broom around and cleaning, each time looking like the angel had come to know later.

"Yes. I'll take your pushbroom. A-and…what's this?" His fingers ran over the white frilly thing tied to it, and Italy blushed cutely, peering down at his feet.

"M-my bloomers"

He instantly blushed out of control, stuttering out incomprehensible words as Italy tried to explain why, and another memory gave yet another wave of inception to Germany as he watched himself pull the skirt of Italy's dress up to reveal the stark white bloomers and a mouse hiding at his ankles. He calmed and the older memory faded. The pushbroom was tucked to his shoulder like a rifle, proudly awaiting its next movement.

" I..think I should give you something back. What do your people give when-a you like someone"

"Hm? Kiss I think" the innocence in the response made him want to jump out the memory and hung the small Italy with all he had.

"Kiss? I see…" he was moving again, reaching out to Italy just as he did the same, nearing each other with the cutest form of love he had ever seen. They said something as they grew closer, but Germany could not make it out. It seemed to be washed away by the sound of a heart beating in his ears.

There, as his memory went blank and the distance between them closed, he knew he had done it; kissed Italy. Germany suddenly was shoved out of the memory and back into reality, where his brother was shaking him out of the trance.

"Ludwig? Yo, bro wake u- HEY! Where are you going?" Prussia shouted, losing his grip on his brother as he lurched out his grip and ran.

Germany bolted. He dropped his old garments and ran as fast as he could out of the house and onto the street. He needed to go there. He needed to go there. He knew where he had to go; he knew whom he had to go to. He ran as fast as his body could handle, desperate in his steps and swerves. He needed to get there now.

And like fate had pushed them there, Italy was running down the same street as him, unbeknownst to them both, desperate in his steps as well. The shocking, and rather heartbreaking, news of Germany's true origins left Italy's heart begging to see him, to see if his brother's words were true and straight. He ran from his home as fast as possible, not bothering with looking back or listening to the world around him. He focused only on the moments in his past, seeing the similarities of Holy Rome in Germany. Nearly everything they did was a perfect match, the needed puzzle piece in Italy's life. He could be just steps away from finally fixing his broken heart.

As they both looked up from their mental battles, they locked eyes, even as the distance hit near a mile. They could see each other as if they had been a few feet apart. Their feet moved even more swiftly, their heart hitting fever pitch beats. It was happening again….

The moment they got close enough to barrel into each other, they slowed with quick slams of their heels, skidding enough to slow themselves from completely slamming into each other but giving them enough speed to perfect run into each other's arms. The collided and fell into a heap of intertwined limps on the ground, trying not to break into tears. Their grips never weakened and neither did they loosen. They sat together on the abandoned sidewalk, wrapped up in each other's embrace, and smiled like the love-struck idiots they were.

And at last, at the same time, in perfect harmony, they finally said, "I've loved you since the 900's".