Chapter Text
Romano still remembered the first time he had formally met the nation once called the “Great Kingdom of Prussia”, the same man now known as East Germany. In truth, almost no one used that name, save for his superiors and a handful of officials. Old habits died hard, and to most, he was still simply Prussia.
The meeting had been nothing like Romano expected.
Back then, Prussia carried a reputation that unsettled the other nations; some even feared what might happen if he ever turned against them. He was seen as a rising power, rigid in war and disciplined to a fault. His army was said to be the finest Europe had seen since the Spartans.
Romano had heard enough long before their meeting and still remembered the unease that settled in his chest the first time he laid eyes on the man so often discussed in political circles.
As it turned out, those doubts were not entirely unfounded. The albino had been… unpleasant, to say the least, and Romano had hated him for it at first.
It was the early 18th century, between 1709 and 1712, in the midst of the War of the Spanish Succession. Europe was restless and tangled in politics, wars of conquest, and rulers hungry to expand their territories. It was a grim time, especially for those trapped in the chaos… and unfortunately for the southern nation, he was right in the middle of it.
Back then, he was not simply “Southern Italy,” but the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily… and not an independent kingdom with its own laws and customs, but a possession of Spain. He had been under Spanish rule for centuries. But being part of a larger power came with a price: it made him a target for other rulers, something to claim, trade, or fight over.
At that time, Southern Italy was exactly what others coveted: fertile plains and olive groves, rich mines and forests, strategically placed along key Mediterranean trade routes, and dotted with prosperous towns. It was no wonder he was constantly in the sights of Europe’s powerful leaders. Austrian ambitions had been fixed on him since the early 1700s… and the French weren’t far behind.
He had never liked that kind of attention. Nowadays, he might admit to enjoying the spotlight, even thriving in it, but back then, it was different. The attention he received was far from flattering… it was humiliating. The constant pressures of politics and war wore him down, leaving him drained in both mind and body.
He always had to be cautious, measuring every word, every gesture, every action. Other countries were always watching. Show weakness, and they might see an opening. Seem too confident, and they could take it as a challenge. Even a single misstep could spark a war…
Worse still, to be coveted for what he possessed rather than respected for who he was felt degrading. He longed for the freedom to make his own choices, to exist without being pawed over like a piece of meat in the middle of a den of hungry hyenas. Yet that freedom always seemed just beyond his grasp…
Still, things could have been worse. He might have fallen under a nation that ruled with cruelty, stripping him of even the smallest freedom. Instead, he had ended up under Spain.
And Spain, at least, had treated him with a rare kindness. Unlike many conquerors, the Spaniard did not see him as a source of wealth or a thing to display, but as a nation with its own place and worth. In time, Romano had come to get along with him rather well, even looking to him as a kind of father. He had grown up at the Spanish court by his side, among a handful of other nations who cared for him—those who, like him, had been brought under Spain’s rule.
In truth, his childhood had not been an unhappy one.
Perhaps that was why questions of identity and how others saw him had not troubled him then. As a young nation, he had scarcely understood what it meant to live in the Spanish court rather than his own lands. At the time, the difference had seemed insignificant. But as he grew, he began to understand…
He had lost his autonomy. His lands bore another’s name. His people answered to foreign rulers. And though Spain himself did not treat him as a possession, the same could not be said of others. The Spanish rulers, and those beyond them, did not always see him in that light. It was disheartening, to say the least.
Perhaps that was why the Spaniard had treated him as he did. Though kind by nature, Spain understood loss through the eyes of a nation, the pain of having one’s identity taken away, an identity that, for a nation, was among the most precious of all things. He had endured similar fates during the Umayyad Caliphate and later under local Muslim emirates, when conquests had claimed much of his lands. He could sympathize with Romano.
Not every nation, however, was perceptive enough to see its “possessions” as more than mere objects, or to respect the possessions of others, for that matter. Many treated their colonies as little more than property, denying them freedom or any rights of their own. One could argue that the nations themselves were not entirely to blame: their behavior was shaped by the attitudes of their human leaders, and had those humans acted differently, perhaps these nations would never have turned against their own kind.
One striking example, or at least, what Romano had thought in those years, was a certain white-haired state. Perhaps that was why his first impression of the albino had been so far from favorable…
In early spring, Spain was summoned by his superiors to attend a diplomatic conference in Austrian territory, held at the Hofburg Palace. The Spanish rulers had pressing matters of claims and territories to settle with the Austrian court. It was no secret that the Austrias cast covetous eyes on Spain’s colonies, just as the Spanish envied Austria’s prosperous lands. The situation was delicate, for neither kingdom was willing to part with even a fragment of their domains. At this rate, tensions could easily escalate into a conflict, something unwelcome both to neighboring powers and to the citizens of their own countries.
Rather than rush into confrontation, the two powers agreed to a meeting, set to span several days, to negotiate their competing interests and, if possible, reach an accord… perhaps even dividing certain territories. Yet whether such ambitions could be resolved with civility remained uncertain.
Spain, as the representative of the Spanish lands, had no choice but to go, much to his displeasure. He had never cared for long journeys, especially in those days, when travel meant slow carriage rides or endless hours on horseback. Then came the nights spent at inns and roadside lodgings, which did little to make the journey any easier…
Even less tolerable were the discussions that awaited him at such meetings. Lands and people… parts of his kingdom and those of others… were reduced to matters of negotiation, treated like goods to be exchanged between rulers. It never sat right with him. Still, refusal was not an option. He had to heed the orders of his leaders.
Now, although the journey promised to be tedious… traveling across Europe, knowing all too well the distance between Austria and Spain… and any meeting between the two courts would doubtless be equally frustrating, with Romano certain he would become a favored topic of discussion, debated over his resources and whether Spain should keep him or Austria take him… still, the Italian found himself wishing to travel with the Spanish court to Austria. Not out of any interest in their disputes over land—he cared little for such matters—but for another reason entirely. Austria was where his younger brother now lived, under foreign rule, just as he himself did. If he could obtain permission to go with the Spanish court, he might finally see him again…
You see… it had been so long since the two nations last met that Romano’s memory of him felt outdated. He still pictured Veneziano in the white apron and greenish garments the younger Italian had once worn. Romano had worn an apron too; back then, they had both been meant to “serve” their respective “landowners”… though how they had served, and whether they had truly served at all, was another matter entirely…
With the hope of reuniting with his brother firmly in mind, it was no surprise that the southern Italian pleaded insistently with the Spaniard for permission to accompany him on the journey. Spain, as expected, could not refuse. Yet whether Romano could go did not rest entirely with him… his superiors still had to grant their approval before any final decision could be made.
Cleverly, he framed his request as a matter of strategy: having one of “their colonies” travel to Austria, he argued, would serve as a display of strength. If the Spanish court arrived with a prosperous territory at its side, surely the Austrians would accord them greater respect.
In truth, it was a flimsy excuse. Even now, Romano could scarcely understand how the Spanish rulers had accepted it so readily, as if convinced. Humans and their endless desire to appear powerful, to flaunt dominance before their peers… it was all rather ridiculous.
Nevertheless, permission was granted! And so Romano set off for the Austrian lands, accompanied by Spain and a good portion of the Spanish court.
During the journey, Romano’s thoughts kept drifting to his brother. Would he even be recognisable after all these years? The question lingered in his mind, tinged with a faint sadness. It felt almost cruel to have to wonder at the face of one’s own family, a face that should have been the easiest to recall. Yet so much time had passed since he had last seen the Northern nation that it seemed almost natural for his memory and expectations to have blurred…
From there, his thoughts wandered further, to the other nations now under Austrian rule, and to Austria himself. He could not recall their faces clearly either… only fragments, certain features, faint impressions. As a child, he had thought Austria unbearably prissy, though he had not been the easiest child to handle either. Perhaps that judgment had been shaped more by his own impatience than by Austria’s nature.
The thought of seeing some of those old faces again made him uneasy. Spain and Austria had once stood on neutral ground, but that was centuries ago. Now, under their current rulers, relations had grown strained, each side poised to bare its teeth over the other’s claims. They were no longer merely distant acquaintances… they were, in many ways, enemies.
Romano could only hope that they would not treat him, and Spain, with too much coldness…
Weeks later, the Spanish court arrived on Austrian soil. Within days, they reached the capital, and finally, the palace.
As they entered the grand estate, Romano felt a sudden pang of nostalgia. The place was oddly familiar, though much had changed since the medieval days when Spain would bring him here to see Veneziano, back when rival powers did not clash so often.
The structure had grown larger, more imposing, and far more elaborate than before… grander even than the Spanish palace where he spent most of his time. The Austrians favored elegance and symmetry, shaping the estate into a rich Baroque showpiece, nothing like the simple, austere building he once remembered. Romano had to admit, he liked it. It caught the eye.
The gardens had changed just as much as the palace. They stretched farther than he remembered, fuller, carefully arranged. Sculptures stood between neatly trimmed hedges, and a fountain sat at the center. Every flower was in bloom. Romano found himself wanting to walk among them, to see it all up close. Everything was kept in such order, so pleasing to the eye. Not that the Spanish gardens lacked beauty, they were very lovely, but these Austrian ones were different from anything he knew. They would catch anyone’s interest in his place. If only his superiors allowed it… it would have been nice to wander.
Inside, the changes were even more pronounced. The palace was now divided into more sections, with countless rooms set aside for different purposes. Decorations filled every corner. Gold accents lined the walls, and coats of arms were woven into large tapestries… many details like these spoke of wealth and power. For its time, it felt very modern.
They were received that very day in one of the palace’s grand auditoriums. Like the rest of the palace, the room was richly adorned. Its ceiling was covered in frescoes depicting Habsburg victories, saints, and allegories. Richly woven hangings covered the walls, showing scenes of past triumphs, while carved wooden furnishings and gilded paintings filled the space further.
Romano barely noticed the Austrian representatives when he first entered, his attention caught by the architecture and lavish decorations. His eyes roamed freely, tracing every unfamiliar detail and absorbing the room with wonder. Only when Spain nudged him did he remember to acknowledge the people before him. He stepped forward, offering the proper courtesies, though his gaze still drifted upward to study the rulers.
They were new, appointed only after the death of one of the longest-reigning monarchs in Austrian history. He had heard little about them and had never met them in person… which was unsurprising, given how rarely he had been here… but they were far from inviting. Their expressions were harsh, their posture rigid, and their presence radiated entitlement, making them clearly unwelcoming.
Unsurprisingly, his attention eventually wandered past them, resting on the other figures in the room, whose details he had yet to take in.
There stood a tall, dark-haired man, and Romano immediately recognized him as Austria. Unexpected, considering he had assumed none of his centuries-old acquaintances would be familiar. Yet there was no mistaking him. He had changed little… slightly taller, a bit broader, and with a different hairstyle… but the glasses were the same. And, like his rulers, he carried that same air of entitlement… though less pronounced. Huh… perhaps his earlier impression of him, from when he was younger, had held more truth than he’d realized…
Once he had finished scrutinizing the brown-haired man, South Italy’s gaze shifted to the woman standing beside Austria… and it didn’t take long for him to recognize her, too. Hungary! She looked much as he remembered from years past, her features unchanged, save for subtle differences here and there. Had her hair grown longer?
As he kept his gaze on the two nations, his thoughts drifted, without meaning to, to his brother. He hadn’t seen him since arriving. Perhaps he was in his room, or lingering somewhere nearby. Romano found himself wishing Veneziano stood here as well, if only so they might reunite sooner. But that was not how things were. His brother held no rank, no place in gatherings meant for Spain and Austria as sovereign powers.
Truthfully, Romano himself had little claim to be here. Yet this meeting was little more than a formal introduction between the Spanish and Austrian rulers, nothing important was being discussed. And so, instead of sending him away, the Spanish court had allowed him to remain. Still, he could not help but think it might have been better if they hadn’t. He could have gone elsewhere, done anything, really, and perhaps found his brother sooner…
Letting out a small sigh, Romano chose not to dwell on it. He would see his brother soon enough. Instead, his attention returned to the room, his gaze moving from one figure to the next. Austrian officials. Familiar Spanish delegates who had made the journey with him… and then strangers. His eyes settled on a small group in the far-right corner of the hall, near an ornate sofa. Their attire stood apart… nothing like the Austrian uniforms, nor his own Spanish clothing. Blue, red, and white dominated their garments, edged with gold. The colors stirred something in his memory, faint but persistent, like the emblem of a nation he should know. Yet no name came to him…
On the sofa itself sat two men. One was older, slightly imposing, dressed like the others but far more decorated. Beside him was a younger man, surprisingly youthful for someone in such high circles, and undeniably… unusual. His hair was white, his skin pale, and his eyes a sickly shade of red. At first glance, Romano assumed he must be ill… so strange was his appearance. And yet, he gave no sign of weakness. On the contrary, the young man radiated health, broad-shouldered and well-built as if he trained daily, his confident expression marking him as someone not to be underestimated.
Huh… strange. Who exactly was this? Romano wondered, his eyes lingering on the white-haired stranger.
For the time being, however, his curiosity went unanswered, as formalities continued between the Austrian and Spanish parties. No one dared interrupt or speak out of turn. Though, once those formalities concluded, and the sovereigns turned to other matters, discussing when and where they would negotiate their… “differences,” seemingly ignoring their entourages, Romano edged a little closer to Spain and whispered, “Pssst…”
At first, the Spaniard only cast him a sidelong glance, clearly reluctant to speak. If their leaders noticed unprofessional behavior in the presence of other important figures, especially given the near-war tension between their nations, he would surely be in trouble. In fact, he subtly gestured for the southern Italian to return his attention to the room, silently signaling that it was safer not to speak, lest Romano get into trouble as well.
But Romano pressed on, apparently unconcerned that anyone would notice. Finally, Spain relented, furrowing his brow as he leaned slightly closer and whispered, “What? Is something the matter?”
At that, South Italy turned his head toward the unfamiliar group of strangers, careful that none were watching, and subtly nodded in their direction. In a hushed tone, he asked, “Who are they?”
Spain blinked, following Romano’s gaze to the group, then back at him, his expression one of disbelief. “You… don’t know who these people are… who that is?” he asked, motioning toward the younger man seated on the sofa.
“No,” Romano replied simply. “If I did, I wouldn’t be asking you.”
Upon hearing that, the Spaniard let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by Romano’s confusion. Not so amusing, however, was it for the Italian. What was so funny? Was he supposed to know these people? Were they that famous?
“Those are Prussians, Romano,” the Spaniard murmured, finally gesturing toward the group. “The older man is their king, Frederick the First,” he added with a subtle nod. “And that…” His gaze shifted to the white-haired young man with red eyes. “…is Prussia himself. You know of him… I’ve mentioned him often enough. He’s quite well known these days, so you’ve likely seen his name in reports. Though, of course, you wouldn’t know him by sight, not having met him before.”
“Prussia…?” Romano whispered, surprise threading through his voice as his eyes returned to the white-haired stranger. This was… Prussia?
For a brief moment, his thoughts tangled as he stared, scarcely able to believe the Prussian actually stood here in the flesh. Prussia was no small name, not at all. Spain had been right; Romano did know of Prussia, not personally, but through stories. Spain had spoken of him often, and there were plenty of books and reports as well. Romano had read more than a few over the years. Once, Prussia had been little more than an order, respected for enforcing its beliefs and protecting the loyal and devoted. Now it was a rising power, commanding both fear and admiration with its methods and demeanor.
And truly, he was famous. The Prussian military alone was enough to earn respect: not large, but trained with impeccable precision and a courage that was unmatched. Their discipline surpassed even the Spanish and Austrian forces. Ah… how had Romano not realized sooner that those were Prussians? Red, white, and blue… only Prussians wore that color scheme! That was why it had seemed vaguely familiar…
And yet, for all its fearsome reputation, there was one surprising truth: Prussia was… somehow… Spain’s friend. That had always puzzled Southern Italy. Spain could speak of the albino with warmth, praising him as a loyal companion and recounting their long-standing bond with happiness in his voice. And then, in the very next breath, Spain would tell of Prussia’s past… how he had dealt harshly with those who defied the Catholic faith. Harshly indeed: burning towns, slaughtering nonbelievers. It was… rather grim.
Romano had never quite managed to make sense of it, especially given how differently the world viewed the two. Why would anyone choose to befriend someone like that? Spain and Prussia were as unlike as night and day. And yet Spain did not seem to care. He insisted their bond went back far, that it had endured through time and change… that somehow, against all reason, Prussia remained one of his closest friends.
Blinking, the Italian studied the white-haired nation again, this time with more care… especially his face. Friend of Spain or not, he had to admit… Prussia did not look particularly welcoming. A faint, self-assured smirk rested on his lips, the kind that suggested he was well aware of his reputation… and the effect it had on others. That sort of confidence was rarely reassuring, especially in a nation with political influence. And yet… if Spain counted him among his closest friends, there had to be something more to this… Prussia character than what first met the eye.
Doubts stirred in Romano’s mind. He could admit it; he admired the Prussian’s reputation, the way he presented himself, the things he was known for. It was hard not to find it at least a little intriguing. Impressive, even.
But at the same time, he wasn’t sure what to make of someone like this. A man like that didn’t seem the type to be friendly… and certainly not toward nations like Romano… nations that weren’t always treated as nations at all. Would he be like Spain… or like the others? The ones who looked at “colonies” the same way their human rulers did?
But rather than dwell on those thoughts, Romano pushed them aside for the moment, finally tearing his gaze from the unsettling figure and returning his attention to Spain.
“Prussia, you say…?” he muttered, trying to sound casual, though it didn’t quite come across. “Yeah, I remember you talking about him…” he added, attempting a nonchalant tone that likely fooled no one. After a brief pause, he went on, a bit more honestly, “Though… he’s not what I imagined.”
In truth, Romano had pictured someone entirely different when he’d read about the personification of Prussia. Someone closer to the Ottomans, perhaps. They had always seemed frightening to him… and Prussia had sounded much the same. So he had expected darker features, maybe blond at most… but certainly not this pale man with stark white hair and red eyes.
Spain chuckled softly at his remark. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, mihijo.” (my son) he said, offering him a warm, easy smile.
Romano scoffed under his breath, folding his arms. “Well… it’s a strange cover.”
Spain only shook his head, still faintly smiling, as if that alone was enough to stand by his point.
Romano almost argued. He could think of plenty of counterexamples—how some people’s personalities matched the way they looked, Austria, for instance—but he stopped himself. He knew exactly how that would go. Spain would turn it into one of his long, drawn-out lectures, and Romano had no interest in sitting through that. Not now, at least. So he let it drop.
“…Anyway,” he muttered, shifting his attention away from covers and books back to the Prussian, “why is he here?”
“Hmmm, I’m not entirely sure,” Spain said, his tone thoughtful. “I don’t believe the Prussians’ business overlaps with ours… at least, nothing like it was mentioned in the letters exchanged with the Austrians. I imagine they handle their own negotiations with the Austrian court.” He paused, a faint chuckle escaping him. “I’ll admit, I was a bit surprised to see Prussia here myself. But diplomacy and politics are rarely predictable.”
“Aha…” Romano murmured, his gaze flicking toward the red-eyed man. Only now did he notice that Prussia was watching him, too. The moment their eyes met, Romano stiffened. Prussia blinked, tilting his head slightly, his gaze scanning him from head to toe and back up again, as if studying him carefully. The smirk was gone, replaced by something almost… curious. Oh, this was awkward… very awkward… for Southern Italy.
Flustered, Romano quickly lowered his eyes, pretending the marble floor beneath his boots was utterly fascinating. Still… he couldn’t shake the sensation of Prussia’s gaze lingering on him. Ugh…
The meeting, more a matter of arranging future gatherings than anything of pressing importance, gradually came to an end. As the last formalities were exchanged, the Spanish court offered their respects to the Austrians, who responded in kind.
Once the pleasantries concluded, the Austrian leader instructed that proper accommodations be prepared for the visiting “guests.” Not long after, Romano found himself led through the halls to a guest room richly appointed. Though it did not quite rival the overwhelming grandeur of the auditorium, its elegance was enough to leave a lasting impression.
During their stay, the Spanish officials had informed the southern nation, before he retired to his appointed chambers, that he was free to occupy his time as he wished, provided his actions brought no discredit to the court. Spain himself, however, was bound by a far stricter set of limitations. Romano supposed that, in its own small way, that was the advantage of not being considered a full-fledged nation…
At first, with this unexpected freedom, the Italian thought to seek out his brother, the one thing he had wanted ever since setting foot on Austrian soil. Perhaps they could wander the gardens together; exploring them had been on his to-do list anyway, and it seemed the most sensible way to pass the time.
Yet, for some strange reason, that thought was quickly pushed aside by another, one that had little to do with nature or his dear brother. His mind turned to Prussia. Would he remain in Austria much longer, or had his business already concluded and departure was imminent? And if the opportunity arose, would Spain even see fit to introduce them? Romano admitted he had his doubts about the man, yet he found himself curious… curious enough to want an introduction, despite his misgivings. Well… if the chance presented itself.
He lingered on these thoughts for a while before deciding he would simply wait and see if an opportunity to meet Prussia arose. Until then, he resolved to stick with his original plan: spending time in the Austrian court’s grand gardens with his brother, whose company he could scarcely wait to enjoy.
South Italy stepped out of his room and into the corridor, determined to make his way back to the main entrance. Surely his brother would be nearby… but if not, he could always ask an attendant for directions to Veneziano’s room. Someone must know the way, and the northern nation would almost certainly be there if nowhere else. Finding him shouldn’t be too difficult… or so he thought.
As he rounded a corner, he slowed, realizing he couldn’t quite remember which path the Austrian court had taken him along earlier to reach his guest room. Left? Right? Straight ahead? The corridor stretched silently before him, and of course, there wasn’t a servant in sight to ask... The last thing he wanted was to wander accidentally toward the servant quarters… or, worse, into the private chambers of Austrian royalty.
Romano lingered awkwardly at the start of the hallway, which split into three, listening to the distant echoes of footsteps and the faint rustle of silk against marble. He couldn’t tell which direction the sounds were coming from, or if they offered any clue at all about where he should go…
Finally, he chose left, more out of hope than certainty, when a voice called out, halting him in his tracks.
“Romano!”
He turned to see Spain approaching, a smile already tugging at his lips. “Are you headed somewhere?” he asked.
Romano nodded. “I’m trying to find my brother… emphasis on trying…” he added dryly, gesturing toward the three corridors before him. “Do you know which way leads to the main hall?”
Spain studied the passages, brow furrowed as he searched his memory. He hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other, but no route came to mind. After a long pause, he finally shook his head and let out a small, resigned sigh. “…Nope. I have no idea.”
Romano let his shoulders droop, a mock look of disappointment settling over his features. “…Fine. I’ll just pick a direction and figure it out as I go.” he muttered, nodding toward the left corridor he had first considered. Without waiting for a response, he began down it.
Spain lingered a step behind, frowning. “…That sounds risky…” he said softly, clearly uneasy at the thought of leaving it to chance in a palace this large. He opened his mouth, probably to insist that Romano stay put, but before he could speak, a voice rang out from somewhere ahead, cutting him off.
It was scratchy and rough… and unfamiliar enough to make Romano freeze mid-step.
“I wouldn’t go that way, if I were you!”
Both he and Spain turned toward the sound. And as the Italian’s eyes fell on the figure the voice belonged to, they suddenly widened in surprise. For he realized that this was… the guy from the auditorium. This was… Prussia!
“Prussia!” Spain exclaimed, his face lighting up as he spotted the albino, waving enthusiastically. Almost instantly, the white-haired man returned the gesture with a wide grin.
“That corridor leads to the Dungeons. Not exactly a welcoming place.” Prussia remarked as he approached the two nations. At that, Romano instinctively stepped back from the path he had been about to take, grimacing as he fell behind Spain. But his attention quickly shifted from the looming prison area to the man in front of him… not Spain, but Prussia.
“Phew… thank goodness for you, mi amigo!” Spain said with a relieved sigh, clapping Prussia on the shoulder. “It’s a good thing you know this place. Otherwise, the Spanish court would’ve had some very… uncomfortable introductions to the Austrian dungeons!” he added with a soft chuckle.
Prussia laughed, the sound echoing lightly in the corridor. “Ha! Austria may think his little castle is tricky, but someone like me can memorize even the most convoluted maps. A palace layout? Child’s play.”
“I wish I had a memory like that,” Spain replied with a warm smile, stepping closer to embrace Prussia. Romano watched, surprised, as the Prussian returned the hug with equal warmth.
“It’s so good to see you again, amigo!” Spain said, pulling back, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I didn’t expect to find you here. On business?”
“Yeah, same as you, I suppose,” Prussia admitted with a firm nod. “My old man’s got territorial ambitions, negotiations to push forward… you know, the usual.”
“Ah, he’s looking to expand?” Spain asked.
“Yup. A few colonies of his own. Though, all in due time, I suppose.”
Spain’s smile faltered slightly. “Oh… colonies…” he murmured, a little less enthusiastic this time. Romano noticed the shift immediately.
“But enough about that!” Prussia said, brightening. “How’ve you been? How’s life treated you over the past couple of decades?”
The Spaniard let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Ah… much the same as before. Just new rulers with new ideas… and new demands.”
“Right back at you, then!” Prussia chuckled. “This Frederick is something else. Really chasing glory.”
“Mhm.” Spain murmured, nodding thoughtfully.
Romano lingered a few steps back, watching the two nations with a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Huh… he thought, they really are as close as the Spaniard said. His attention then shifted to Prussia. The albino’s face was bright and cheerful, radiating the same confident energy he had displayed in the auditorium… but it clashed with his voice. Rough, scratchy, yet unexpectedly lively, it didn’t match the image Romano had built in his mind. He had imagined something deeper, more serious, perhaps even cold. In fact, the way he pictured Prussia’s voice was much like how he had pictured his appearance: entirely wrong.
Seeing Prussia interact so naturally and warmly with Spain, Romano couldn’t help but think… he wasn’t so bad… not at all like someone who’d be mean or rude, or the type to burn villages centuries ago. Though perhaps that was not for him to judge; it was clear the Prussian approached matters of war, military, and personal conviction very differently than he did his friendships. With his friends, he seemed genuinely warm and friendly.
Overall, he didn’t seem like the sort of man who’d treat someone of Romano’s status poorly. The doubts Romano had carried about the albino began to fade, replaced by the curiosity he had felt earlier, now more keen, more insistent. Little did he know, however, that his doubts weren’t entirely unfounded. Certain behaviors, ones he would witness soon enough, would reveal that a shred of caution might have been wise. At least, that’s what he believed at the time.
After a few more moments of talking with Spain, the albino’s eyes drifted toward him, and before either of them could look away, they were staring at each other, just like back in the auditorium. Only this time, Romano didn’t flinch. He held the gaze, awkwardly, but intent.
A few seconds passed in silence, then an amused smile tugged at the albino’s lips. Romano felt a jolt of nervousness ripple through him. “Who’s your friend there, Spain? The dungeon explorer?” the albino asked, teasing.
Heat rose to Romano’s cheeks. He tried to hide it, but he knew it was useless. “It’s not my fault I don’t know this stupid palace…” he muttered under his breath, careful that no one else could hear.
Spain turned toward him and gestured for him to come closer. “Ah, yes, this is my…!” His voice started cheerfully, then faltered, as if the words had simply disappeared. “He is my…”
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Spain’s face. Prussia and Romano exchanged confused glances. “My… uhh…” Spain added, biting his lip, searching for the right words that didn’t seem to exist. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat, let out a small, awkward laugh, and nudged Romano forward.
“Actually… why don’t you introduce yourself, mi amigo?” Spain suggested, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
“Uh?” South Italy blinked, suddenly standing face to face with the red-eyed Prussian. Up close, Prussia was more intimidating than he had expected. At first, Romano didn’t understand why Spain had pushed him to speak so suddenly… but then it clicked. Spain hadn’t wanted to call him “his colony” or make the introduction feel possessive. By letting Romano speak for himself, Spain was sparing him that uncomfortable sense of inferiority that often came with meeting a more “established” nation. Thoughtful, really… Spain always was.
That didn’t mean, of course, that the Italian wasn’t awkward introducing himself to Prussia, but Spain’s considerate gesture eased him slightly. Grateful, he gave Spain a small smile, which the Spaniard returned. Clearing his throat, Romano straightened, turned to Prussia, and extended his hand in a polite, introductory gesture.
“Uh… hi, I’m… Romano.” he said, his voice a little strained.
Prussia didn’t seem to notice, or care, about the awkwardness. He shook Romano’s hand with an energetic grin. “Prussia! Nice to meet you!”
But then his expression shifted, curiosity sparking in his red eyes. He tapped his chin and hummed thoughtfully. “Romano… Ro… ma… no…” He sounded out the name slowly, syllable by syllable. “Ah… no offense, but I’ve never heard of you before. Are you a new nation or something?”
Romano blinked, caught off guard. The awkwardness returned, but this time tinged with uncertainty. “Uhm…” He glanced at Spain, who offered a small, encouraging smile. Taking a steadying breath, he faced Prussia again. “Well… that’s actually not my full name. My… official one is a bit different.”
“Oh! That explains why I didn’t recognize it,” the albino laughed lightly. “So, what is your official name, then?”
South Italy hesitated for a moment before giving his formal name. Seeing how friendly Spain’s companion had been up to now, he figured honesty would do no harm. “I’m… the Kingdom of Naples and Sicily.”
Now, a small warning to the reader: the Prussian’s reaction was nothing like what Romano had imagined. In fact, it was so far from what he expected that it would have been impossible to predict, especially given how Romano had convinced himself that Prussia was more of a decent guy. Romano remembered clearly how the thoughtful expression on Prussia’s face, upon hearing his name, had shifted almost instantly into one of realization. The southern Italian had hoped for a civil exchange, yet the reply he received left him more disappointed than any slight from the modern world could ever have.
“The Kingdom of Naples and Sicily… hold on—” Prussia cut himself off mid-thought. His fingers snapped, and he pointed at Romano with a triumphant, satisfied grin. “You’re one of Spain’s colonies!”
Romano felt the color drain from his face the moment he heard those words.
Behind him, Spain let out a startled, “Uh—?!” He clearly hadn’t expected Prussia to be so blunt, either.
Prussia broke into laughter, clapping a hand over his mouth as if that might stop it, though it did little to help. It spilled out anyway, like he’d stumbled onto the greatest joke alive. “That’s why I didn’t recognize the first name you gave me! Ha! That’s rich!”
“Uh… yeah…” Romano muttered, still too shocked to say much, though a sudden irritation strained his voice. “Real funny…”
“Spain, man! Now I get why he seemed so familiar!” the albino went on, grinning. “I kept staring at him back in the auditorium, trying to place it… and now it makes sense, haha! He looks just like my cousin’s northern colony! Oh! So this one’s the southern one, right?” he asked, his enthusiasm hardly contained.
“This… one…?” Romano repeated, the words slipping out through clenched teeth as his irritation intensified.
“Uh… I—yes, I suppose…” Spain said, though his voice wavered. “But, Prussia—”
“They really could be twins, I’m telling you!” Prussia continued, talking straight over him. “Ah, he’s just as cute as his brother! Why do you always end up with the good colonies? I wouldn’t mind having a cute one myself!”
“Uh…” Spain faltered, his gaze shifting uncertainly toward Romano.
Though Romano wasn’t looking at Spain, no, he was too busy glaring at Prussia. I wouldn’t mind having a colony… The words echoed in his mind, that absurd, offhand claim from the albino. Colonies… like they were possessions you could just take and want? Is that really how this guy thinks? This man is… monstrous!
Any hope that Prussia might be at least bearable evaporated completely. What remained was the confirmation of Romano’s first instincts: he had been right to be cautious. So right! Prussia was… insufferable! And a fool. Romano rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and tapped his foot impatiently as Spain shuffled awkwardly, trying, and failing, to intervene.
“Prussia, you should—”
“Anyway,” Prussia cut in, still smiling as if nothing were amiss, “what’s a colony doing along on business? Not exactly usual, is it?”
“Ah… you’re asking me about him, instead of asking him… haha…” The Spaniard chuckled awkwardly, glancing at Romano. The southern nation just scoffed and turned slightly away. What an insensitive jerk! Romano could still remember thinking that at the time.
“Well, duh,” Prussia laughed, as if his friend had just delivered the funniest line in the world. “He’s your colony, isn’t he? Who knows better what’s going on with him than you? Am I right?”
Romano was utterly flabbergasted. Who knows me better than Spain? he thought, incredulous. Uh… probably me! Myself and I, you red-eyed idiot! Rage surged through him. Humans diminishing his worth was one thing… they were pitiable, feeble-minded… but another nation? Nations were supposed to understand each other! Clearly, this idiot had no such quality. Romano wanted nothing more than to leave the presence of this insufferable man immediately.
“Uh… right…” Spain mumbled awkwardly, before adding, “He’s, ehem… here to see his brother.”
“Oh, sweet, sweet. Family reunion.” Prussia said casually.
“Speaking of my brother…” Romano finally found his courage, stepping forward with a glare that made Spain shift uneasily. “I’ll go see him now. Which way leads to the main hall?”
“The main hall?” the albino repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips, enough to make South Italy flush with irritation. “Sure, I can point you that way.” He flicked a finger toward the right corridor. “But if it’s the northern colony you want to see, I can take you straight to his room! The palace is a bit tricky to navigate without having the map engraved in your head.”
Romano bristled. After that condescending attitude, after the way this self-important, “prosperous” nation had practically spat in his soup… he’d never accept! And the way he’d referred to his brother… northern colony… ugh!
“Yeah, right,” Romano said bitterly, waving the albino off. “Funny you think I’d go anywhere with you after that.” He turned toward the right wing of the palace, muttering under his breath, “Jerk…”
He didn’t notice Spain or Prussia’s reactions as he hurried away, but he caught Prussia’s distant voice carrying after him, followed by Spain’s reply. Whatever they said, it was drowned out as he moved further down the corridor.