The Old and The Dead

Rome stood panting over the battle field. Blood dripped from his arm and blade, staining the green grass that was once so innocent and welcoming. In the distance Corinth was set ablaze with the cleansing fire of hell.

Mama Greece died at Corinth, died by Roma Antiqua's own hand, died leaving behind a new born son to pick up the pieces.

It was funny how that in the aftermath of battle, even though you are mentally and physically exhausted, you are forced to feel and see and relive every aspect of the battle. No matter how many times you try to blink away the sight, or wash away the blood, or deafen out the screams, you have to see it; confront it. You have to come to terms with the fact you have taken life.

The memories won't leave you alone. They build and build and build until you are pushed over the edge and scream from the very depths of your soul-or you freeze the emotions, turn them to stone, and let them haunt you.

Roma Antiqua could do neither. He stood there, staring, helpless as one of his greatest loves burned. "Sileo in pacis" He wished his lover. "May vos excito in lux lucis." [1]

"And I'm sure she will" Germania spoke softly from behind the Roman. It was a common theme between the two; stay close, but stay quite. Germania hated noise; his alone time was his happy time, and Roma could respect this. Especially now that Germania was so heavy with child. Fit to burst, his armor had long since ceased to fit and now had to wear plain peasant clothes. They itched and rubbed him the wrong way making the Germanic Nation all the more irritable.

Roma gathered himself together and turned "It is always hard to remember we must be nations first and lovers second."

Germania's eye twitched. Did Roma actually think he cared that Mama Greece was dead? Rome cheated on him with her, she birthed his child-how could Germania expected to feel sympathy? "Yes…I suppose it must be hard on you…what of the boy?" Still, a little compassion he was capable of, even if it was forced.

"He will be fine. His mother's gods will see to his survival, she left him with land, and a rich culture."  

Germania nodded. He allowed the air to fall silent and heavy on their shoulders. If he focused hard enough, he could almost feel the heat of the flames. "…how did this start?" The pregnant nation inquired. "This battle?"

"The Greeks taunted me." Roma Antiqua said with a smirk. "They mocked my people, aroused their spirit, and brought about their downfall. I had no desire to do this to her...but..."

"We are nations first, lovers second." Germania finished for him. The Roman nodded, wiping away his bitter tears. So sympathy was out, but empathy wasn't. Germania placed a hand on the taut skin of his stomach, feeling the tiny life turn circles from within.

Roma saw the look of discomfort and instantly snapped back to attention. "You should be resting those ankles of yours." He fawned. "My little girl needs to be treated like a goddess."

"It's going to be a boy." Germania grunted, glaring down and away from the Roman that was now so lovingly rubbing the swollen belly. How can you love it? It's going to kill me; I'm going to kill you for killing me. I hate it. I hate you.

"Then a god." Roma chuckled, kissing the belly button that had been pushed out in strain.

"…you're bleeding on me." The blond pointed out, taking a step back from Roma Antiqua. "Come on home, I'll take care of that-god knows you can't do it yourself." And with that, Germania took hold of Roma's hair curl, and led him home; fully expecting to have a night of passion and love after the nation's wounds were treated.

     ********

No sex. That was the hardest thing Roma Antiqua had to live through. After Germania washed and bandaged Rome's heavily scared body, the blond had changed his mind about the night of love making and headed straight for bed.

Rome was left to tend to the bleeding in his heart. He was like a love sick puppy, pining for its master to come home. He leaned against the windowsill, looking out over the plains. Somewhere, a patch of wild thyme bloomed, filling the night air with its scent. He waited for the moon to rise; to cast the world into is ghostly splendor.

Damnation.

Roma lifted his hand to be level with his eyes. Blood stained. Phantom stains. Stains only he could see. Devil hell hounds prowled around the grasslands, waiting to feast on the few shreds of his soul that remained intact. They must have caught whiff of Roma's sorrow and crept closer. The more moonlight, the more freedom they had.

Curses.

They would never go away. The scars on his body wouldn't fade. His heart would be forever bleeding. The tears finally started to fall. The hounds lifted their muzzles and howled to the moon, as if thanking it for the feast they were about to receive.

Isolation.

Everyone around him was going to die. Roma was going to leave his children and grandchildren alone. This thought made his heart ache even more. He brought his hand down to clutch over his heart. The hounds snarled their jaws ready to clamp down on the soul and feast.

"Rome!" Germania hollered from the bedroom. "Rome, get in here! I need you!"
Roma Antiqua yanked himself from the jaws of hell just before the bite.

"Wh-what?" he stuttered, scrambling to get his bearings. "G-Germania?"

"…I need you" The blond admitted when the rustic brunette stood in the door way. "C-come and sleep with me tonight…"

"Vos penuriosus carus… nimirum." [2] And the two nations spent the night protecting each other from the devil hounds.