Germany/North Italy (Hetalia) Holy Roman Empire/North Italy (Hetalia) Lithuania/Poland (Hetalia) Denmark/Norway (Hetalia) Prussia (Hetalia) Germany (Hetalia). Adventures on the high seas and priceless treasures await for any nation brave enough to try for the title of the Most Infamous Pirate Captain. Language: English Words: 7,693 Chapters. This item: Ribelle - The Brave (2 Blu-Ray) Italian Edition Blu-ray $18.72. Ships from and sold by DVDCineShop USA. FROZEN 2 Blu-ray by Kristen Bell Blu-ray $22.99. Ships from and sold by Amazon.com. FREE Shipping on orders over $25.00. y/n is a brave apprentice of the famous knight, Alfred Jones. The world they're living in is no ordinary world. Monsters and villains everywhere, esspecially when a demon get summoned to destroy the valley and village, and of course, it's up to them to bring back peace.

Another fluffy Hetalia oneshot yay! This one was inspired by many sad GerIta's and listening to Angel With a Shotgun on repeat.

If you asked any of the countries to describe Italy they would tell you how sweet and naive he is, how lovable and caring, how he's obsessed with pasta and how he's an excellent cook. But nowhere in their descriptions would be the words 'fierce, courageous, brave' or anything of that sort. Except for one,

Ludwig Beilscmidt, aka Germany, when you asked him to describe his little Italy would sit you down and tell you, very solemnly, the story of when he first fell in love with the Italian, the story of how Feliciano Vargas saved his life.

It had all started at the height of World War Two, he would say, in fact the very battle where the Axis Powers admitted defeat. It had been raining heavily, in fact the rain was so heavy that you could barely see the front lines of the Alliance where the other nations capitals were waiting guns, knives, and other various weapons at the ready. Cardiff, with his windswept blonde hair had traded his usual dagger for a pistol and was humming under his breath standing close to London who had a protective stance in front of him. London also had a gun, two actually that were already cocked and, if you were close enough, you could see her hands twitching, aching to pull the trigger. Germany had noticed all this with a sharp eye, little Cardiff would be an easy target he was sure, but first he'd have to get past London who saw Cardiff as a younger brother and was fiercely protective of him. She was also an extremely skilled fighter and would not go down easily.

'In fact' Germany had mused to himself, 'Their relationship reminds me of Italy and I.'

Germany glanced at the small country next to him who was soaked and shaking, clutching the grip on the pistol Germany had given him like a lifeline. The German's heart gave a jolt as he realized his little Italy was terrified.

Placing a hand on the Italian's shoulder Germany silently tried to comfort the man. (Which didn't do much seeing as German's aren't really known for their people skills.) Giving up, Germany looked at their own soldiers, Japan had his Katana at the ready and Tokyo hefted his Ono (a japanese axe) onto his shoulder. They all looked nervous but determined and Ludwig was proud of them.

Then the first shots rang and Feliciano cowered behind Germany, whimpering a bit.

'It vill be all right Italy.' Germany mumbled cocking his shot gun, with a sinking feeling that this would end badly. 'I vill protect you.' The German promised.

Italy tugged at his sleeves nervously and looked up at Germany with tears in his amber eyes. Unable to help himself Ludwig placed a kiss on Feliciano's forehead before rushing off to aid in the battle.

'Yes, but who will protect-a you?' Italy whispered at his retreating figure. The Italian tugged as his sleeves once again, checking to make sure the throwing knives he had shoved in them were still in place, he ducked as shots were fired his way and cried out in fear. His hand inched toward the multiple white flags he had shoved in one of his uniforms pockets, but he stopped himself.

'Germany needs-a me.' Italy whispered to himself. 'Germany needs-a me, Germany needs-a me, Germany needs-a me. ' He kept chanting to himself as he stared at the shotgun in his shaking hands.

Quite close to him a german soldier was shot down, Feliciano gasped as he saw the man's eyes, blue, as blue as his favorite fair-haired country's were. Horrified by the idea that HIS Germany's eyes could become as dull and lifeless looking as the soldier's Italy got to his feet, a feeling welled up inside him that he didn't know how to describe, if he were any other country he would of known it was something called determination.

'GERMANY NEEDS-A ME!' The little Italian man yelled as he cocked the gun in his hands. Then he raced through the battlefield faster than he had ever ran in training, faster than he had ever ran in his life, even in retreat.

The battlefield was heavy with the smell of blood and sweat and rang with the sounds of guns, cannons, and clashing steel. Feliciano, who had never shot a gun in his life, emptied an entire round each bullet hitting it's target. Then he found Ludwig.

Italy had been right, Germany had needed him. The fair-haired country had been fighting admirably wielding two pistols but had long since ran out of ammunition and was relying on the Katana Japan had given him. As good a weapon as a Katana was it could not stop the bullets that were flying at the German man. Nor could it compare with the battle axe that London had somehow concealed on her person and was now swinging violently at him. He was backed into a corner with no escape, London on his right and Cardiff, who he had horribly misjudged on his left. Cardiff had ran out of Ammunition too but had pulled twin daggers out of his belt and now, his eyes red with bloodlust, was advancing towards him grinning as if he knew he had already won.

Which he had, with his gun empty and his Katana riddled with bullet-holes Germany's fate was looking bleak until,

'STAY AWAY FROM MY-A DOITSU!' A highpitched voice called and all three people turned.

There was Italy, blood stained and battered, a dirty white flag dangling precariously from a ripped pocket on his uniform. He held the shotgun that Germany had given him, a fire in his eye that Ludwig had never seen before.

'I said. STAY. AWAY. FROM. MY. DOITSU.' Italy repeated.

The red eyed Cardiff, that Germany was starting to doubt of being Cardiff (mainly because normal Cardiff hated conflict) smirked a bit. 'And if I don't? What would YOU do? In fact I don't think you'd be able to do anything even if I did THIS. ' The capital pulled a shotgun that obviously was NOT out of ammunition out of it's holster and, before Germany was able to react fired it at him. Ludwig fell to the ground gasping for breath.

'NO!' Feliciano screamed. He pointed his own gun at Cardiff and pulled the trigger.

The gun was empty and kept clicking uselessly as Italy pulled the trigger. Soon he threw it aside and pulled the knives out of his sleeves.

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'Y-you hurt-a G-germany!' He cried, tears streaming down his face.

Red-eyed Cardiff smirked.

Italy's amber eyes usually sparkling with joy, darkened with rage and with out another word he threw one of his knives straight into Cardiff's heart.

The little capital looked confused as he fell as if he couldn't fathom why the sharp little knife was THERE of all places, Cardiff's eyes changed back to blue and he finally lay still.

London at the moment was thankfully preoccupied with other soldiers and didn't see her fallen 'brother' so Italy had time to run over to Germany.

'Germany! I did it! I didn't even-a surrender ve!'

Germany blinked to focus in on Italy, his Italy.

'Yes I'm ve-ry proud of y-ou.' He said.

'Oh! Let me-a see! How bad is-a it?' The Italian chirped worriedly, tears still flowing.

Feliciano started peeling off Ludwig's uniform top, it was bad, if he didn't get medical attention soon Germany would die. Italy cried harder at the sight of it.

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'I-m not go-ing to ma-ke it.' Germany moaned.

'I di-dn't-a get t-to say I love y-you.' Italy sobbed 'I-ve a-always be-en too sa-sa-sa-scared.'

'V-hat?' Germany gasped.

'I-I love-a you Doitsu.'

And that was the moment Germany realized he truely did love Feliciano Vargas. He loved everything about the little Italian, how he always smiled at every little thing, how he always smelled of pasta sauce and exotic spices, how he would climb into Germany's bed every night. Everything.

'I Lo-ve you t-oo.' He choked out, groaning in pain. Italy took one last look at the wound and got that firey look in his eye once again.

'You need medical attention, but you won't get it with the war-a going on right?'

'..Ja..?'

Italy nodded once and sped off. Soon the Italian was on top of the largest hill he could find waving the biggest white flag any country had ever seen.

'WE SURRENDER!' He screamed at the top of his lungs. 'AXIS SURRENDERS! MAKE-A PASTA NOT WAR! MAKE-A PASTA NOT WAR!' And he kept shouting until every weapon was dropped and his voice had gone hoarse.

After that Italy dashed back to Germany and with the help of Japan, who wasn't severely injured, hefted him onto a gurnie and wheeled the half-dead country to the battlefield hospital.

It was four or five days before Germany awoke again. Italy was asleep in a chair by him holding his hand and he could see Japan through the window talking to Greece who, after the country had apperantly finished speaking, threw his arms around the asian man and kissed him.

Ludwig flushed, feeling as though he had just intruded on a very private event. Feeling embarressed he turned and instead tried to awaken the sleeping Italian man beside him.

'Italy? Italy?' He said very timidly prodding the country's shoulder. 'VAKE UP!' he finally yelled.

Feliciano awoke with a start and very quickly started rambling,

'I'm-a sorry Doitsu, I didn't mean to oversleep, I'm-a so sorry! Don't be mad!'

'Shh. Calm down Italy. It's okay.' Germany blushed and timidly reached up a hand to ruffle the man's hair.

Italy giggled a bit at that and peered at their surroundings, suddenly it all seemed to come back to him.

'DOITSU YOU'RE OKAY!' He yelled, so excited that he leaned over and planted a big kiss on Germany's lips.

The German man flushed scarlet and when the Italian went to pull away he didn't let him, he deepened the kiss propping himself up on one elbow and letting the other hand cup the back of Italy's neck pulling him closer to him.

'I-a love you Doitsu.' Italy mumbled.

'Ich liebe dich.' Germany said back. 'Italy? Danke. You saved my life, I vill never be able to thank you enough.'

Italy blushed scarlet and was unable to utter a coherent sentance after that.

And that is why brave, fierce, and courageous are exactly the words Ludwig would use to describe his little amber eyed Feliciano Vargas.

I killed off my favorite OC. Why'd I do that? I'll probably make a story explaining Cardiff in the future. Bye guys!

A/N: Just a little thing I wrote for feels friday when I should have been working on DYSRM. Oops.

Veneziano shut the door behind him, trying to make as little sound as possible. The room was dark as the thick shades had been drawn over the window, blocking out the bright afternoon light. His eyes fell on the cold bowl of pasta that stood on the bedside table, untouched. A flicker of disapproving worry clouded his normally sunny features for a moment, but the Italian forced himself to smile as he walked over to the bed. 'You should eat, fratellone. You'll fall sick if you don't.'

The man in the bed was the exact spitting image of him, though his hair was a shade darker, and his pallor a shade paler. When he shifted and opened his eyes, he revealed another disparity. Dull olive green eyes stared unseeingly at Veneziano before Romano turned away. 'Stupido fratellino,' he muttered, his voice quivering with the effort of speaking. 'I'm already sick.' Veneziano's frowned, but he didn't saying anything about it.

'You'll get better,' He assured, trying to keep his voice from shaking too much. 'Are you comfortable? Do you want anything?' Veneziano was fussing about, adjusting the sheets and setting things straight, trying to give himself something to do. The feather-light touches and rustling began to annoy Romano, rousing him every time he was about to drift off into sleep. He was feeling dizzy, slightly disoriented, and the elder Italian wanted nothing but to escape into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

Finally he snapped, 'Just get in!' Veneziano froze where he was, staring incomprehensively at his brother. Sighing, Romano held up a corner of the blanket and gestured impatiently, 'It's almost time for your siesta, right? Get in and sleep.' Veneziano grinned and slid quickly onto the mattress, tugging the sheet up so that it reached his chin. 'Don't expect me to be this nice all the time, got that? It's just for today!'

'Ve, okay!' Veneziano yawned, 'Grazie, fratello.' It didn't take long for his eyes to flutter shut, and his breaths to deepen. Romano watched him sleep, fighting the urge to dose off. Even in the darkness, he could see the shadows under his eyes and the crease on his brows. The last few years had been hard on them both, with his struggling economy and the acqua alto over in Venice. Veneziano had done his best, covering up what he couldn't handle and supporting him with his smiles. Back then, Romano hadn't wanted to acknowledge him, but now he couldn't imagine being Italy without his brother.

Oh, Italy.

When he was gone, Veneziano would be fine. Even if he couldn't handle everything at once, there would be that potato loving bastard to help him. Most of them already called him Italy anyway, never just Veneziano. It was always Italy, Italy, Italy. What about him? It seemed that they only knew him as Romano. 'I'm Italy too!' He thought belligerently. As a sudden spasm rocked his body, all the indignance drained out of him. Not anymore, the ache in his chest reminded him, he wouldn't be Italy for much longer. His eyes drifted over to his brother yet again. Veneziano hadn't let it show, but the acqua alto was getting worse every year. He hid it so well that not even those Axis allies of his knew. But Romano could tell, he could feel the echoes of the liquid that pooled in his lungs, of waking up in the middle of the night, gasping for breath but finding none. There would always be that connection between them which Veneziano couldn't hide. He was brave, and also too selfless for his own good. At least their unification would do him some good- the younger Italian's suffering would be alleviated.

Everything was set. All the loose ends had been tied up, and even though he was going to die, Italy would survive. With that thought in mind, Romano reached for his brother's hand and fell asleep.

Hours later, Italy woke up alone, one hand outstretched over an empty space, with his palm still tingling from a lingering warmth.