Chapter 1: Take Me Home
Chapter Text
Gilbert Beilschmidt- Prussia
Ludwig Beilschmidt- Germany
Feliciano Vargas- North Italy
Lovino Vargas- South Italy/ Romano
“Move, Move, Move!” Says Gilbert, with a rifle in his hand, backing up the poor Italian family in the corner of their already ruined, run-down shed.
“It’ll all be fine boys, I promise.” Grandpa Rome says as he attempts to comfort his loved one’s left, considering his kids are dead— already taken by the German party.”I promise we’ll make it out. I know we will-“ He says, before getting brutally shoved to the ground by Sergeant Ludwig.
They proceeded to attach handcuffs to the poor Jewish family, causing more trauma for the bunch than they realized.
They get shoved outside their house, looking down at it knowing it’ll probably be the last time they see the only place they knew as home.
Lieutenant Gilbert kicks the youngest of the bunch in the leg with a steel-toe boot. “START MOVING! " he yells, not knowing the intensity of the situation, considering this is something he’s been doing daily.
“I-I don’t wanna die…” Whimpers Feliciano while looking down, realizing his fate is the same as his parents’; death.
“Good for nothing Jews, shut your mouth! Wie kannst du erwarten, dass ich mich schlecht fühle, wenn du dich so verhältst?!”( How can you expect me to feel bad if you act like this?!) Says Ludwig in a brute tone.
Lovino stays quiet, Trembling, Knowing that ONE small move could get him killed— I mean they do have weapons, and in this case, He’s the minority.
They proceed to walk for around an hour, before they are put in a crowd, being led into a train. Dozens, Hell maybe even hundreds and thousands of poor Jewish families going into transit.
After what feels like an eternity, they finally get onto the long, seemingly never ending train. Several panicked family’s yelled, and tried to find a way after they shut and locked the door.
“Fossoli di carpi!” One of the nazi soldiers yell, As several people in the train gasp, and even more panic starts to erupt as if it wasn't bad enough before. Lovino's heart drops as he grabs Feliciano's shoulders. “It’s a transit camp. They’re gonna kill us.” He whispers as his eyes begin to get foggy. He’s known as the tougher sibling, but how could you not break down knowing something as tragic as this…?
“EVERYONE SETTLE DOWN.” Yells Sergeant Ludwig, trying to keep everyone in order.” You will be in here for the next 5 hours, traveling to a transit camp.” He says as everyone quiets down.
“You’ll arrive soon. The calmer, the faster.”
Chapter Text
Hours later, after arriving at the transit, the doors slam open with dozens of German soldiers rushing them out the doors.
“Single file line!” Yells one soldier standing at the sidelines.
The Vargas’s are all lined up one behind the other, to go see some man in a…chair?
“Lovino…? Whats happening…?” The Italian boy whispers to his brother. “Well how do you expect me to know? Clearly, they’re up to no good.” He says with a snarky tone, but you can still hear the worry creeping up on him.
“Oh my god…” mutters grandpa Rome. The two boys look at him in confusion— almost as if they’re being captured or something…?
“They’re… They’re marking us…” he says in a frantic manner. “Well what is that supposed to mean!” Says Feliciano, clearly confused on how to react to such sudden events.
The other two stay silent. Clearly, they know what’s going, but don’t feel the need to share. “Answer me for once, dammit!” He says, clearly trembling. “NEXT.” A German soldier exclaims before pushing Feliciano into the chair.
A soldier sits next to him, but no hate is found in his face…? Maybe even sympathy? “This may sting a bit… Please give me your arm.” He says, as the boy reads his name tag. ‘Ludwig Beilschmidt’ reads the tag.
“Arm.” He demands a little more brute. The boy snaps out of daydreaming, and follows his orders, terrified of what could happen if he’d done the opposite.
His body suddenly jolts, feeling a strong pain— a series of numbers being tattooed into his arm. His eyes well up with tears, His mind wanting to have a say, but his mouth not moving. He sits there, and at this point blood is seeping out of the little stab wounds due to how deep the guy was going (clearly not on purpose). Lovino and grandpa Rome stare in disbelief. How could you do such a thing to your own species— let alone just because they could’ve done better in life then he did. It’s not like it’s their fault he couldn’t get into some dumb art school anyways.
After a few more unbearable minutes, the soldier puts some pressure on the open wounds with a clearly already used, brown ,blood filled rag. “Sincerest apologies…” mutters Ludwig. ‘Maybe he’s not as bad as he seems..?’ Feliciano thinks, as his brother gets pushed in the chair by some different soldier.
‘Nevermind.. I stand corrected…’
His brother gets treated with slightly less remorse by that very same soldier. I mean it’s super hot outside, and he’s probably been out here for hours, so even if he is a Nazi… everyone gets annoyed.
Feliciano and Lovino are chaotically whispering to each other after being cooped up behind another fence.
As grandpa Rome gets his 5 digits down on his arm. He yells out suddenly, causing Lovino and Feliciano to whip their heads around, to see Ludwig Beilschmidt sitting there with a panicked expression, calling some other soldiers to come help him. He’s frantically trying to tie that same bloody rag onto the poor man’s arm, clearly feeling remorse for him. A couple soldiers rush over to check out the commotion, yet they seem disappointed when they see it’s just a hurt Jew. “Eh, just put a bandage on it, we don’t wanna spend money on those rats.” Mutters a fellow member of the German party, another one snickering as if the life of an elderly man wasn’t in their hands.
At this point, he’s in excruciating pain, but there’s nothing Ludwig can do. “I’m so sorry, it’s not like I want to do this or anything…” he whispers, not wanting his ‘friends’ to hear. He gently wraps a bandage around the old man, although as soon as he stands up, he drops to the floor. The two boys rush over, shaking him. “W-wake up!” Yells Feliciano, although one of the other guards nudges his body to the side.
“If you’re gonna mourn and yell, do it on the sidelines where no one can see you.”
They wanna argue but they simply do exactly that. His pulse is weak, but again, blood is still draining through that thin bandage. Soldiers begin to rush the already tattooed ‘prisoners’ into different run down cabins. “Papa, wake up…” whispers Lovino, trying to wake up the presumably passed out man.
“Let’s go.” Yelled out some other random soldier, as the two boys look back at their grandfather one last time before running off into a tiny little run down home, filled with nothing but beds.