[APH] Warmth [ItalyXReader] [Prologue]

Hetalia Reader Insert

Italy x Reader

W a r m t h

Please read the description




A cold, grey day, rain pouring down in eternal rivers, colouring everything in its lifeless, dull inks and filling the world with the noise of continuos dripping.

A deserted town, empty streets, lonely plazas, silent alleys, no living person to be found in the weather that seems to be a punishment straight from heaven, for unbeknownst committed sins.

The community of houses, churches, parks and streets looks like directly from an old painting, beautiful statues and decorations adorning bigger mansions, skilfully forged metal fences, flawless cut wooden benches, unique bridges floating over whatever water was to be found. It is an old city, recognisable when the grand, yet delicate church next to the main street is to come into view. Yet, it seems so dead, grey killing any warmth that may have been there.

Suddenly, hasty steps can be heard, from time to time the sound of leather on stone is interrupted by a splashing noise, accompanied by loud and laboured breathing.  

A dark cloaked figure hurriedly makes its way through the ghostly town, the thick, dark emerald green fabric draped over the persons shoulders trailing behind her, revealing the hem of a leaf green dress gently crumbling and straightening with each step.

When the person crosses the circle of light an old, bronze street lantern throws on the ground, some locks of light hazel brown hair can be seen, funnily peeking out from under the hood the girl is wearing, her green orbs dart from right to left, helping her to skip between the muddles of dirty water that have formed on the ground. She is carrying a rattan basket of her left arm, securely tugged under a bunch of fabric, and a piece of jewellery is holding the cape covering her in place under her neck, marking the girl as royalty or some other rich caste that is living in this town.

But the girl, more of a young woman, seems to be lost, her anxious gaze quickly wandering around while her pace fastens until she is nearly running through the dark evening.

And suddenly, there are people.

The woman had entered a narrow alley, more of a stair of stone, connecting different levels of the city with each other, barely protected from the rain above by a mouldy, old wooden roof, pieces of it that once must have been up there, filling today gaping holes, now in use by the humans living under there.

The Alley of Lost Souls.

It had gained this name from all the crippled, mentally disabled people living here, from the ones once rich and powerful who played and lost everything, from the children kicked out by their parents to save money, from the people who had once fought in wars, defending their everything, just to come back and find their precious moving on or, in the worst case, having been murdered by someone within their own lines, leaving them completely alone. All these helpless souls had gathered into this one place, providing each other with the few they had.

The woman swallows, but never slows her steps as she sprints up the stone steps, flattened from the may feet that have already travel up or down this path. The poor, the homeless, living in between puddles and mud under breaking and insecure wodden huts, they watch her with weary eyes, but none of them makes a move away from the small fires they were able to light under this pouring greeting from heaven. They just sit, and watch, and for the young girl, it is even more  terrifying, leaving her with the fear of imaginary scenarios in which she suddenly and without any warning gets attacked.

But the people living in poverty in this silent alley with their eyes wide open and mouths shut tight -for some or another reason - eventually stay behind her as she continuos to skip up the steps of stone, and a relieved sigh leaves her lips, staying in the air as a little puffy cloud until the rain dissolves it.

A few meters up the stairs, the woman stops, so abruptly the thick wet cloth covering her splashes against the bare skin between her shoes and the hem of her dress, gaining a little surprised yelp from her side. But she moves no more, just staring ahead.

A little girl is sitting there on the stone. Her (h/c) is glued to her forehead and skull in dripping locks, her (s/c) cheeks seem to hold no live, sunken in, and deep dark shadows are sprinkled all over her face. The grey dress she is wearing clings to her alarming slender body in wet crinkles, and even though the girl is sitting, one could tell her skirt was not even near any acceptable length.

Her ghostly thin hands lay in her lab, fingers like dry twigs curled around each other in a helpless attempt to hold any warmth and life in them, and her shoulders are pulled up high, the bones nearly touching her earlobes.

But despite these and other signs of the life she must be leading, her chin is held up high, her back straight, and the way her eyes scan her surroundings could match a queen, knowingly and always catching the important parts of the female standing on the stairs just mere inches away from her, such as the bit of the silky shining dress that is peeking out from the cape, the healthy looking lock of hazel coloured hair, and the seemingly expensive piece of jewellery holding the cloak closed.

But her eyes are not proud and stubborn like other royalties ones the brunette woman has met.

Her eyes are different.

The (e/c) hues seem to be dead.

Though a beautiful, captivating vivid colour, her orbs hold no live, just a utter and eternal sadness the older female may have already seen a few times - but not with a ordinary human such as this girl. She has already seen this a few times, to be exact, but thinking about what it means for the young girl scares the older female to her bones, sending chills over her arms under the warm fabric of the cloak.

It's not the kind of sadness one experiences when losing a dear friend or beloved family, it is the look of loosing one's will to live, and of the pure desperation one gains when loosing everything ever known and even unknown, everyone ever held dear and not so dear, watching everything burn, shatter and drown in a matter of seconds, changing the entire world for the worst ever imaginable.

The green eyed woman swallows.

Although her pity for them and her need to help the people she encountered a few meters before isn't fading, the urge she feels to help this girl, save her from the cruelty she must have seen, to embrace her, hold her close, envelope her in warmth and tell her that everything was going to be fine is nearly overwhelming.

Her fingers twitch, and she feels something like a big balloon swelling up inside her throat, making it nearly impossible to breath. Tears dwell up in her eyes, and the unbelieving look in her eyes matches well with the sad smile on her face.

Carefully, she sets her basket down, next to the girl, and gently places her hand above the child's, causing the young one to blink and make a nearly seamless, but still noticeable jump. Her (e/c) eyes focus on the woman in front of her just now, and suddenly, fear is displayed in them.

"I'm sorry!", she cries, yet surprisingly silent, and tries to tear her fingers away from the brunette woman, an useless attempt as her body, whom she tries to persuade upwards in a bowing position, gives in under her and forces her back on the slippery and cold stairs in a hunched over way, making her yelp in pain when her behind makes impact with the stone.

"I'm so sorry!", she starts again, and this time, instead of standing up, just scoots to the side even more. Her shoulders touch the mouldy wall next to her, but she pays no mind.

"I didn't mean to block your path, Milady. I'm so sorry! Please do not call the guards, Milady! You see, I made space. Please continue your way without any more bother from my side..."

The woman smiles mildly, and shakes her head softly while her grip on the girl's finger tightens, but only a bit, not forceful, yet enough to make the girl understand she should stop moving away.

"Dear, dear, please calm down. I'm not going to call the guards, no way. There's no way I'd want to hurt you... Instead.. I..." She drifts off a bit while slowly stroking the cold fingers between hers, feeling a light twitch as a response, making her smile a tad more. The idea in her head takes a form.

"I want to help you. I can't bear to see you out here, slowly ending your life in such a way. I would have an offer for you... But only if you want, dear."

The girl's back straightens immediately, showing her interest as well as the gleam of curiosity that sparks in her (e/c) orbs that shine from her sidewards tilted face.

"An offer?" She asks quietly, and the woman nods, the smile on her face glowing warm and welcoming.

"I'd love to take you in. I live in a big mansion, with a lot of servants, and I'm pretty sure I could open a job as a maid for you. Dorm and three meals a day included." She grins, and chuckles lightly when she sees how the girl becomes pale and her eyes widen.

"A... A job? With... Payment? A roof over my head? ... Food...?" She stutters, the pauses between her words only showing how hard she tries to comprehend what she is hearing.

And suddenly, the strength is back in her body, shooting the young female upwards, making her throw her arms around the brunette's neck, burrowing her tear-smeared face in the thick, wet cloth that cover the older one. Loud sobs start erupting from the girl, and her whole body is shaking from her sharp inhales.

The woman gently smiles and embraces the girl, slowly running her hand over the dripping (h/c) locks, the other hand lays on the girls shoulders, holding her close. Silence blooms between them, only interrupted by the girl's hiccups, but it is a comfortable silence, filled with an unspoken promise of something good, something better.

The two females remain there a few seconds, the younger one, barely six, clinging on to the older one, who is kneeling on the cold, wet stone, like she is a boulder in stormy sea. The promise for a brighter future.

The rain continues pouring in its endless punishment.

But after a while, the older one pushes the girl away and starts undoing the jewel holding the cape closed while her other hand shoves down the cape that is covering her head. The young one stares at her, unsure of what to do, until a warm, dry cloak lands on her shoulders, the sudden weight making her stumble a bit.

The woman stands up, dusts off her clothes in an useless attempt to make them look decent although now the never ending stream of water from above has already soaked her in a matter of seconds, and holds out the had not holding the basket for the girl to grab. The young one just stares at her, and the female take out the pink flower that had been stuck in her hair, right about her ear until now, and gently places it in the girls hair.

"What about we get going? This weather is rather nasty, and I don't want my future maid to become ill before she can even start working, do I?" She says in a mocking tone, making the girl smile widely, yet unknown to the brunette, now dripping soaked woman, as the big cloak and cape cover the girl completely.


The town is long left behind, its grey walls and endless alleys of cold stone opening to a path through the woods. Although the rain is still pouring, the vivid green of the leaves hanging on their branches and the small yellow, red and purple dots marking flowers that cover the ground are surprisingly colorful, not giving in to the dullness that tries to get a hold of them.

The young girl stares in awe, and her jaw slightly drops when they come to a halt in front of a big, majestic mansion.

At least three levels high, its facade is decorated with big windows, skillfully and delicate roses made of stone, and everything is in perfect symmetry. A big front yard connects the wide path with the entrance in a place where at least five horse carts could wait, and the bushes of different flowers blooming around the way are obviously looked after as no wilted leave is to be found.

The woman approaches the door and gives it a heavy knock with the bronze knocker formed like a lion head hanging there.

Almost immediately the door flies open the revel a man. His dark brown, almost black hair lies on his head in a slightly slicked back way, a few strands of it framing his face. A weird lock is standing nearly upwards, defying every law of gravity, and the purplish-blue eyes behind his glasses are burning with anger and worry. The navy blue jacket and the lacy cravat he is wearing only ensure the girl in her worry that he might be an aristocrat.

"Elizabetha!" He fumes, gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles on his already pale hand are getting white.

"Where have you been? You said you'd be back by four, it's already six! I an beyond furious, and why are you this soaking wet?" He rages on, causing the woman, now known to the girl by the name of Elizabetha, only to smile.

She gently shoves the girl hiding behind her in front of the door, making the young girl shiver in fear of this angry man.

The man stops dead in his track, only watching the small, shivering form in the cloak with interest. He then crouches down, looking the (h/c) girl right in the face.

Her hair has dried a bit, creating soft, fluffy locks around her face, making the young one look even younger. Big, innocent, yet so endless sad and desperate eyes look at him, within them such wisdom he never expected to see with a human.

His gaze wanders up, to Elizabetha, and she shrugs loosely, causing some drops of water from her dress to fly towards the male.

"I just couldn't leave her there, Roderich. She's... She's different. I feel it. There's something about her... I don't know, I can't quite figure it out. But it's there! Can't you sense it?" She asks, her warm voice and the warm feeling the house emits lulling the girl in a deep tiredness.

The man, Roderich, stares at the girl once more before he sighs in defeat and steps out of the doorframe, letting Elizabetha rush in quickly, shoving the girl in front of her in the house.

"Thank you, Roderich! I'd hug you, but I'm soaking wet, so we'll save that for later! I'm going to show her to the maids dorms!" Elizabetha laughs while dragging the young female clinging to her hand with her, towards a group of maids standing nearby, a pitying look in their eyes as they see the thin, muddy girl.

The brunette talks to them quietly for a few seconds before they all nod and Elizabetha lets go of the girls hand, giving her a slight push towards the maids which are waiting with warm smiles.

When the (e/c) orbs of the girl look at the green eyed woman in shock, she gives her a reassuming pat on the head.

"They are going to look after you for a few hours, and than put you to bed, dear, as I am a bit busy... But, wait, I never got your name, did I?"

The girl turns around and looks at Elizabetha for a few seconds, the silence hanging in the air like a heavy smell, before she smiles a little and whispers her name while turning around and following the maids.

"It's (Name). (Name) (Last Name). It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Elizabetha."