My Songbird: 2P!Italy x Captive!Reader (3)

Italy stood beside the window overlooking his garden. The day was bright and cheerful. Flowers bloomed and birds sang in the trees. Puffy white clouds dotted the sky. Everything was bright and green and full of light.

Italy threw the curtain back in disgust, casting the room into darkness once again. Light and peace, that was the moral of so many that he had destroyed. He had bathed that moral countless times in blood. Darkness and Chaos, Blood and Evil. Those were his morals. He had never hesitated to hurt anyone who disobeyed him.

So why did he stop when you flinched away from him? He was perfectly used to it by now. He shouldn't even be surprised that you were terrified of him. Yet for a split second before his hand reach out, he felt something strange. It wasn't anger or frustration. It was a type of sadness.

Remorse.

Italy gripped his hair in frustration. Remorse?! Guilt?!? Why should he, of all people, experience such emotions? He was a prince of darkness, bathed in the blood of his enemies. Yet when you stared at him with those wide, terrified eyes, he felt something stab at his heart.

"Lutz!" he snapped, eyes blazing.

From some obscure corner or hidden doorway, his right hand man appeared. His hair was slicked back roughly as usual, jacket hanging from his shoulders. He stared at the Italian silently from the brim of his cap, arms crossed.

Italy paced furiously in front of him, hands tangled in his hair. Lutz raised a curious eyebrow but remained silent. It was better to keep silent when his comrade was angry.

A series of disconnected mumbles came from Italy's mouth. "I can't...she wont-but.....I...ARGH!" The knife in his hand flew across the room, to stick in the wall with a solid 'Thunk!' 

A few moments passed. A heavy silence hung in the room as Lutz waited patiently for the Italian to compose himself.

Italy let out a heavy sigh, then turned to Lutz with his cheerful smile. "Mi dispiacare." he apologized. "If you need me, I shall be in the Master Suite."

Lutz gave an almost imperceptible nod. 

"I want ________ in the library at noon, on the dot. Have my lunch delivered there."

He casually walked over to the wall, plucking the knife out of the tiny cinch in the wall made deep by hundreds of throwing efforts.

As Lutz watched his leader saunter away, twirling the blade in his hand, he couldn't help but overhear him humming a familiar song.

Your song.