Chapter Text
Nobody knows why Romulus and Aldrich had a fallout. The two empires used to be close friends. At one point, Aldrich was a protector, a defender of the other’s house, and it seemed like they were inseparable best friends. After many years, they changed as they conquered territories, raised nations, and built an empire. Soon enough, Aldrich's emperor, Odoacer, invaded Rome, the capital of the Western Roman Empire.
The first time he took someone’s life, he promised he would never do it again. He didn’t expect to grow used to killing or combat. It wasn’t only because he was an empire, but he was a nation. He had so much to learn in so little time. To the Germanic, violence had become the new normal for society, and losing them wasn’t all that bad. “It’s okay. I’m sure you will win next time!” That’s what they said to him. That's what his best friend said to him. Now, this time, it really mattered.
Romulus expected to live longer, be able to pay for his mistakes in time. He realized today, that wasn’t the case anymore. He can’t just brush it off like nothing ever happened. If he didn’t make it out, how was he supposed to tell his grandkids that he loves them? How was he supposed to tell twelve of his grandchildren that he was sorry for focusing on only one? He made them feel like nothing. He regretted neglecting his poor young ones. To him, the others were uncomparable to his favorite. Just because of his genetics, and love for the same hobbies as his grandfather, he was the ideal grandson. He was the one who would fulfill and reach his grandfather’s standards and expectations. It was what Romulus was planning all along, he tried to set him up for success, but now, he felt that he might have done it all wrong. Maybe he should've chosen someone else. Perhaps, the other two Italians, the French boy, the Spaniard, the four brothers up North, the Portuguese, the Greek, or maybe the far away Romanian. They noticed the scars quickly appearing on their grandfather’s back and arms. It was pitiful to watch the nation gradually age. The Roman’s neglect and ignorance of his descendants bit back at him unexpectedly.
Romulus tightened his fist, his home, his heart was on fire, as the sun went down. Among the dust, rubble, blood, and ruin, sweat fell from his face as he squinted his eyes.
The long, blond-haired nation, tightly grasped his sword. Never in a million years would Aldrich be standing in front of a fallen empire. What made him think he could beat the majestic Rome?
The Roman looked back angrily as the Germanic's eyes stared back aggressively. Other than the Vargas household (which was in flames), his nation, his capital, was his home. He ruined his life, and at that moment, it was now or never. If not now, then when? If not him, then who? Who would carry in the crown? Would the Western Roman Empire exist after today?
He shouldn't worry. After all, he was the greatest nation ever created.
Before long, he drew his sword, held his shield to his chest, and ran at full speed as other did the same, their recently sharpened weapons, making rough contact. Each attack was blocked. They knew each other too well. It was only a matter of time until one messes up, and it was clear who would do it first. As the capital burst into flames, the outline of soldiers from both sides was fighting. Romulus took one look, his heart dropping, and barely having a split second to dodge Aldrich's attack. He retaliated, the other accidentally dropping his shield.
Romulus smirked as he wiped the blood from his cheek. That was a close call. He laughed as Aldrich spoke, “What are you going to do now? Your capital is on fire. At this rate, your heart must be in flames.”
“You have a sense of humor? I never would’ve guessed!”
“Even here you’d joke about ladies and wine. You never take anything seriously!” Aldrich charged, taking Romulus by surprise. How had he learned to fight like that? Wait. He learned from the best. As they huffed, their swords clanged, and their feet dragged across the dirty, ashy terrain. Luckily, Romulus was able to push the other back.
“I have a whole lifetime to spend fighting you!”
“We’ve spent these past hundreds of years doing so!” Romulus held up his shield, Aldrich’s sword scratching it. Moments after, the Germanic felt a sharp blade along his stomach and fell to the ground. The Roman smiled, dropping his shield onto the soggy ground from the drizzle.
“I find it funny you strive to beat me. I find it all the more amusing than usual. No matter what, you are always my underdog.”
“No, no Germanic will ever be under a Roman or any of your descent. Ever. Not for the rest of my life, or as long as my descendants rule.” Romulus laughed, his eyes closed as he prayed for the rain to quicken so the fires would cease. He was winning yet another battle with his rival, so why were the fires still burning?
"Don't you see? You are standing in the land of a great empire! You have no chance. We will always prevail because I am the best out of all of us. The strongest survive, Aldrich. The weakened fall!"
"Well, looks to me your nation is falling." Romulus stayed silent, the realization there. Aldrich took this moment to shuffle, his wound slowly feeling less painful.
The Roman scoffed as the Germanic stood up and tried to attack from behind. The brown-haired man turned around, swiftly pulling his sword out, his shield long forgotten. The duo continued to fight, pulling new tricks to try and fill the other. The rain continued to pour, making it harder to see as thoughts clouded Romulus' mind, the guilt still plaguing him, and the inflammation his scars growing. It was too much. Why couldn't he admit to himself this was the end. He was expecting this moment anyway.
On the other hand, Aldrich focused on taking the other down. Sure, he could be a little power-hungry at times, but he never wished to kill the other. How could he win without inflicting a harsh, fatal wound? Murder was a sin, but what if it was the only way to save the other from a painful death? It was the only way. As the other's movements slowed, getting tired, Aldrich swung his sword, making Romulus drop his. The Germanic closed his eyes, hearing a low gasp from the other as he drove his sword through the other's chest, and removing it.
Romulus stood, his hand reaching to grasp his heart, falling to the ground. Aldrich threw his sword down, falling to his knees, shocked. The two breathed heavily, one's steady, and the other's slowing. What has the world made them do?
"Are you happy?"
"No."
"Neither am I. I never knew my worst fear would come true. Memento mori*. Aldrich didn’t say a word, and rubbing his first victory against Romulus wasn't fitting. "My capital was destroyed right in front of my eyes, my life being ripped apart from the world. It must’ve felt like that for the others. Now, I finally realize what horrible humans we are! Aldrich?” Said nation looked over, still silent, and before their eyes, Rome ceased to ashes and broken buildings. “I beg of you. Promise me! Please take my children to safety. Oh God, please, I’m sorry, remember me."
"They will. I did it to help you. That's all I ever did," Aldrich sighed, taking his best friend's hand, giving him comfort. The two made small, pitiful remarks to each other.
Aldrich stared at the fire. He soon looked down, placing his hand on the other's chest, no heartbeat, no movement as he shook the man lightly, his eyes moving to watch the empty ones. He moved his wet hair from the rain that had started to douse the fire hours ago. Numb. Numb as he used two fingers, closing the eyelids.
Aldrich stood up and wiped his face from what he thought were raindrops. He took one last look at the body before he put his long robe over the other. Aldrich covered his eyes as he kneeled beside the lifeless body of his best friend. There was no point in burying him if he was just going to turn into dust. People like them had a job to do. Whether they were willing to or not, it was an obligation. The least they could get was a moment in time. Thunder roared, and Aldrich knew. He was next.
Two children entered the huge broken down building. The two leaped across the rubble of the once happy and welcoming Vargas household. From across the room, they could hear soft cries from an infant.
“I-I think he’s over here!” The older boy tugged on the other’s garments, “Under those!” The two ran over to the pile of broken, dirty pieces of stone, lifting each, the cries getting louder.
“How was he able to survive?!”
“Remember, we’re different from the others!”
“Now, we need to find the other two!"
A few minutes after searching, the older screamed, HELLO? BROTHER, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!” The older boy held his hand out, picking the little kid up and ran the other direction to try and find the other. "Where is the rascal?”
“I’m not sure, but I heard footsteps earlier! God, he’s fast!” They turned the corner, seeing a small child cowering in the corner.
“Hello, it’s Francis. I'm your big brother. Remember? Don't you remember before Grandpa took you away? Come here, come to your big brother!" The Italian cried louder, waking up his older brother, who also started crying. The infant was sound asleep.
“Where's Nonno Roma?” The child questioned.
“H-He is fine. He must be!" The oldest replied.
Completing the task, Francis and Antonio made their way out of the house. They ran to the outskirts of the capital, for Aldrich to help them. After all, he owed it to his mentor.
The nation thought as he sat in his room. Why did the information feel so familiar? He was sure that he just picked up the book that evening. It was quite odd.
“Long ago, there was a man who took control of the whole Mediterranean and obtained the wealth of the whole world. His name was the Roman Empire. This man wielded the world’s wealth, servants, fame. One day, the man who obtained all of these things just disappeared. Nobody knows how the powerful ancient disappeared, but many have spoken about the sightings of this man. Similarly, there have been sightings of other old deceased nations. They are known as the ancients. It is said that the final sighting of Romulus Vargas alive was in a gruesome battle with his ally, friend, enemy, Aldrich Beilschmidt.”
“Are you looking at boring history books again?"
"Why do we have this? We're nations. Shouldn't we already know everything that's happened."
"Exactly, we don't."
The teen felt like a ghost or spirit was watching him from behind. He shook his head. Those types of superstitions were those of a child or people who wanted to scare. There was no way.