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Where had the time gone? It seemed like not to long ago that Antonio spent his days cooking, cleaning, taking care of Romano, harvesting tomatoes, the usual. Those were the days, it was peaceful, calming, the Kingdom of Spain was prosperous, he hadn't a worry in the world.

Until something in his economy caused that to change.

Now, his people were suffering, and there wasn't much Antonio could do. He talked to his rulers, the higher ups, they always gave him instructions, and telling him to stay healthy. Of course, Antonio followed, he spend more time in his villa in Madrid, Romano often yelled at him for spending too much time in there. Soon, Lovi stopped visiting, Antonio spent his days laying around the house with nothing to do, except cook, and maybe harvest tomatoes.

As much as spending quality time with himself, he missed company. Soon, he found himself picking up the phone and anxiously hearing it ring, patiently waiting for that 'click' from the other side, and the familiar French accent.

He found himself doing this often, they would enjoy a evening like friends would, sharing recipes (seeing as both were the leading countries in cuisine at the time), and just sipping wine while talking about life.

Of course, seeing as both had it in their nature, their nights would end with steamy proclamations of love that would be forgotten the next day. Both continued this sort of relationship, they didn't mind, they enjoyed it.

Though, the economy became worse, which meant Antonio had to take drastic measures. Antonio was to become an assassin.

That also meant that careless nights with Francis wasn't an option anymore.

Still, they continued without another thought, they acted as if nothing happened, they were simply good friends spending quality time together.

That is, until night fell, which was when sharps knives and guns came out from both parties, and it never ended without a fight for dominance and a blood bath.

Still, like those passionate nights, this would all be forgotten by morning, a little game they played, and were more than happy to do so over and over again . . .

Antonio had been taking a bottle of wine from the cellar when he heard his door open. Glancing at the clock hung in the room, he noticed it was about that time when Francis arrive. Quickly looking at the label of the wine bottle in hand, nodding when he confirmed that this would appeal to France's tastes. As he climbed the stairs, he looked from the corner of his eye at the small box hidden in the corner. That was where he usually kept all of his weapons, all waiting to be used for their next victim. Aside from grabbing wine, Antonio picked up a small shotgun, it would be necessary for future plans . .

After all, Francis was coming over. Grabbing a knife wouldn't be needed, there were plenty in the kitchen, all perfectly disguised. Making sure he remembered to clean them all off the remains of its past victim, Antonio made a mental note to stop using those for future tasks.

"Ah, mi amigo! Glad you could join me today." Antonio greeted once he closed the door to the cellar, making sure it was locked before turning back. He gave Francis his usual, cheerful smile, there wasn't a hit of guilt, remorse, horror that he experienced after taking the life of an innocent human he didn't know.
Antonio clearly remembered promising himself after the most recent war that he would never take another human's life. Sure, he would take stand if a war erupted, but aside from that, Antonio wanted his hands to remain clean. This wasn't the path he had seen himself leading, the only red liquid he imagined staining his hands and clothes was tomato juice. As he remembered, the first night he completed a task, he looked at himself in the mirror, horrified by what stared back. Those green eyes . . They held the same murderous glare that hadn't been present in hundreds of years, Antonio turned back into the monster he vowed never to allow control him again.
Still, he couldn't turn back, he wasn't just Antonio. No, he was the Kingdom of Spain, it was his duty to do whatever it took to keep his Nation intact and prosperous.
"I have some wine for us." he said cheerfully, using his hand to beckon him towards the kitchen. "I have some crackers that would go great with it."

The kitchen wasn't small, but it wasn't too big either. At the entrance leading from the living room, something that resembled a table, though not quite, acted as a type of fence from the entrance of the actual kitchen. There were chairs set out from the side pointing out, the type that were very high off the ground. The kitchen has appliances that any other kitchen couldn't do without, a refrigerator, a sink, stove and oven, and of course extra counters for preparing meals. Of course, there was a small container that held several tomatoes perched on the stands that acted as tables.
Antonio grabbed the bottle opener from the drawer and two glasses, followed by the little box of cracker he had indicated before. After taking the cork of the wine bottle out, he set it on the table, next to the crackers, before he headed to the fridge to take out a small glass jar of jam, and another of Spanish grown olives. Snatching a few toothpicks from the small container on one of the counters, he walked back, then set the stuff on the counter-like table.

"So, how's life been treatin' ya, hm?"

With a chuckle at the compliment, he opened the jar of olives, grabbing one of the toothpicks to pick one out. He looked up from the jar to look at those blue eyes, he nodded, the words were true.

"Ah, yes. It would be nice, to live like humans. There aren't many worries, all they have to do is work, eat, sleep, live. Although that sounds similar to our way of life . . " Antonio stopped for a moment to glance back down at the jar. Quickly setting it down with one quick motion, he stared at the tiled table, he winced as he remembered that life wasn't as easy as he was making it sound. After recovering from his moment emotional unbalance, something that seemed to occur frequently now a days, he looked up with that sunny smile.

"Guess it isn't that simply, right?" Sadly, the smile on his face could not cover the pain in his voice, the anger he felt as he saw himself becoming the man he use to be, the man he feared the most. With a soft sigh, he cleaned his fingers, wet with the olive juice, on the apron he had wrapped around his waist while grabbing the other supplies. Leaning away from the counter, he opened the drawer in front of him to grab a butter knife. As the light from the lamps above reflected on the knife, Antonio lidded his eyes, staring at the dulled, but still sharp object with admiration, interest. An eerie smirk took over the previous sunny smile, he twiddled the handle of the knife between his fingers, it almost frightened him how confident he felt with it. Once noticing his actions, almost completely forgetting his company, he snapped out of his seemingly hypnotized state, he set the object down next to the crackers and smiling at his companion.

"Jam? It's made from strawberries grown in Andorra, she gave me this jar at her recent visit." He happily explained, grabbing the jar and sliding the lid off, grabbing the butter knife and sticking it in. Although she might not be coming to visit me as often anymore . . . a hidden smirk replaced his smile for a mere second as he remembered the night little Andorra came to visit . . . After a knife through the chest and a bullet through her head, Antonio remained certain that her memory would be lost for a while, God save her people. Once again, the smirk left Antonio's face faster than it has appeared, he grabbed the butter knife and spread its contents on a cracker, before taking a olive and setting it on top. With a tiny smile at his accomplishment, he popped it in his mouth and happily ate it.

The same color as blood . . he though to himself as he closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy his little snack. Yet he taste is far too sweet. As blood had a bittersweet affect, it was something Antonio took pride in licking off the knife after he finished a 'task'.

"How's the wine?" Snapping out of his previous though, he picked up his wine glass. Swishing it around slowly, he brought it close and deeply inhaled the sweet scent. It has a fragrance that was close to that of blood, but it was still too. . . Sweet. The distant smell of grapes that must have been in a vineyard not too long ago, the gentle smell of the country.

Content with the smell, he brought it to his lips and took a sip. Yes, the taste of grapes and alcohol were by his standards, though nothing could replace the bittersweet aftertaste of his victim's blood . . .

One quick glance at the clock, he noticed it was slowly slipping into night time. He frowned slightly, then turned to look back at Francis, his eyes gave him a puppy dog look as Antonio hoped he would get the message. Minutes from now, one of them would eventually pull out their weapon, and the games would begin.

Of course, it was always very entertaining to begin these games while they were occupied being 'friendly' to one another, it added more tension, more excitement. Either way, it wasn't common that Antonio made the first move. He liked to act like he had no idea what was going on until the last minute, that was when his attention truly needed it.

Shocked would be an overestimation to his reaction, breath taken, yes. He closed his eyes as he felt them for himself, there was that sweet taste of wine . .

As much as he was use to feeling those soft lips against his, Antonio couldn't help but become completely memorized, the power of a Frenchman's passion. Still, Antonio wouldn't give in so lightly when it came to dominance, he was going to fight for a chance to be take control.

Of course, the way this fight for dominance came wasn't as simple as others, more or so often, this involved blood. He still couldn't make it too obvious though, it was nice to play with your prey before finally going for the kill. Antonio wrapped his arms around Francis' neck, curling the golden locks in his thin fingers. As he tilted his head to the side, he pass his tongue along Francis' lips, permission for entrance.

In the mean while, with one quick movement, he took out the blade hidden in his sleeve, and holding it in between his fingers as he stayed in place for a few more seconds, just a little while longer . .

Antonio pulled away, eyes half lidded as he stared into those blue eyes, those that have seem death, murder, pain, war. Truly, there was nothing pure about the nations, all which have been tainted by these deadly traits, all which have blood staining their hands. There truly must have been something wrong with them to want that, the blood, the taste, the glory . .

"Wine does not compare to blood though." as he though aloud, Antonio moved the blade so that the tip was not touching the back of Francis' neck, he pushed it in slightly to make a small, memorable wound. As his smile turned into a frightening sadistic smirk, Antonio tilted his head to the side to add to the sight. A purr escaped his lips, quite uncommon from him, yet this wasn't the usual happy go lucky Spain. Oh no, this was the time Antonio welcomed and embraced the person in him that craved a fight, that longed for the taste of blood--

The person he hated the most, yet treasured at the same time.

"If only we could die, and be born again. Reincarnation, was it? These humans have such strange theories. Still, the though it interesting, wouldn't it be nice? To die, then come back as different people? Without the burden of a Nation, without the need to see bloodshed, wars, all that bullshit we have to put up with." Antonio's expression darkened, his smirked pursed into an angry line, the blade pushed in deeper.

"As much as I love God, I despise him for making me this . . monster." the blade came around, it pierced skin, leaving a trail of broken skin along Francis' neck, stopping at his collar bone, where Antonio leaned in and licked the red liquid.
That bittersweet taste, it had been far too long since he tasted French blood, a day was more than a lifetime for Antonio now a days.

Antonio pulled the knife back, his face momentarily blank as he brought his hand over and placed the knife to his lips. He allowed his tongue to lick some of the blood off carefully, foolishly allowed it to pierce his tongue.

"At least I haven't turned into some old man." He cooed, before using his knees to push Francis to the ground, satisfied as they both tumbled down. He hovered over the other man, the smirk still plastered on his face. He still held the knife in his hands, careful not to have caused any damage as they fell. As he swayed his hips from side to side in his foolish attempts to seduce the other first, Antonio leaned down and ran his tongue over the wound he made previously on France's neck. Of course, because he made a cut on his tongue, Antonio watched as their blood fused together.

The image was so pretty, amusing, he could imagine them 'dancing' the night away. .

"Of course not, I stopped dreaming a long time ago. Because I know they were lies. Are lies." His murderous expression flickered for a moment, switching back to the usual calm expression, with a tiny sad smile.
"I can't keep avoiding things by just napping outside by my tomato trees." Leaning down, he gently kissed Francis, before backing away and hovering over him again.

"Monster. . " His expression remained blank, he merely nodded and began to unbutton the hem of Francis' shirt with his mouth. Now, he let his guard down, waiting to be dominated by the other, for he didn't have the confidence at the moment to do much.

He knew he was a monster, he found that out years ago. The times when he looked down at the people he sliced down with his halberd. Instead of dropping down to his knees and beg forgiveness, he laughed, with a childish look on his face. There was a point in time when he actually enjoyed seeing people in pain, seeing the blood shed, and taint his beloved halberd. . .

The monster he never thought he would become. It still lived, it strives, with only Antonio's self control to keep it in check. Of course, there were times when he couldn't.

"Our own . . ." He continued to repeat Francis' words, thinking he could find some reassurance.
"People."