A/N: First of all, the imminent disclaimer. I own neither Hetalia or the nations themselves.

A couple of notes before I begin this, in this fanfiction, nations will live alongside humans under different identities (a human name and a side-line profession) but will live much longer than a normal human. The nation names are simply seen as titles amongst the personifications, hence why the personifications will refer to fellow nations by their human name.

Along with this, while nations will expect dissolved or 'dead' nations to disappear suddenly, but that isn't the case for the sake of this story.


"Ladies and gentlemen, today we have come together in this occasion of tragedy, but let us not mourn the passing of a close friend but to celebrate a life."

Sure, it was as simple as that for somebody whom gave these speeches on a weekly basis as employment, but it was much more complicated than that. I honestly don't feel any comfort in this false compassion. One shouldn't make such claims at this sort of morbid occasion. They exist to mourn loss, not to make light of his absence. The attendance was higher than I had anticipated, for somebody with quite the number of enemies, those clothed in the traditional black attire filled well over half of the hall.

"A man of great confidence and inner-strength, those who knew him would always be met with a warm greeting and a contagious smile. He always gave his best effort to all tasks he set himself, for something small like folding laundry or something much more ambitious."

It appears somebody would have assisted the funeral celebrant in writing their speech after all. I suppose she had been dressed in oddly fitting clothing, white with a red rose clipped beneath a name tag reading 'Marianne'. White and red, two colours which quite harshly reminded me of him. White was rather obvious, the moment somebody had laid eyes upon him, they would take notice of his pale hair colour. The next came red… One would say his eyes, but I would disagree. It was much too simple, along with the fact that there was more than simply the hue of his eyes that had to do with the colour red.

Red was said to be colour of passion, correct? He had plenty of that within him, arguably a little too much for certain other's personal liking. His eyes, his passion and one other event… The formal dissolution. Red bathed the man, along with the overpowering scent of blood and those screams.

"He was a passionate man, anybody would agree. Whether in work, or in friendly competition, he strived to achieve he set his mind onto. He was also a gentle man, taking in an orphaned child and raised him as a younger brother, whom I am sure you all know rather well."

In the corner of my eye, I noticed the slight nod of his head that Ludwig gave as silent acknowledgement to her words. His face considerably more solemn than any of the other's I had noticed, he had quite possibly been the most shaken by these events. Despite his usual stern face, I knew what would occur after the ceremony and he departed back home. Ludwig would sit in his backyard with Blackie by his side, only after then would he let his tears run. He was a strong man, taught by another strong man, but there was only so much one could take after all. We may not be human as such, but it wasn't just as simple to break the spirit of a nation. I think this could be the breaking point for Ludwig. I know he isn't aware of this, but I have seen him cry twice before. The first time had been when he had been a child, in fact, before anybody had called him by the title 'Germany'. He wept after realising he would have to leave Feliciano alone to grow up without him.

The second time had been after the time most of us had expected his brother's disappearance. When Ludwig and I had found him lying in an alley, the scent of copper still floods my mind at the thought. Neither of us ever expected to see him in such a weakened, distressed state. This would be the third time. Nobody had realized this would happen without any prior warning, in fact, he should have disappeared after the formal dissolution. This was when we had at least been prepared for the worst, his imminent fading, but he still remained alive. Not as strong as a standing nation, naturally, but alive nonetheless. So why would it happen now?

"Is there anybody whom would like to say a few words of their own?"

Marianne's voice rang out along the halls, a few quiet murmurs were heard afterwards, but nobody had stood up. I turned towards Ludwig, curious if he had prepared anything but his expression read anything less of desire to give a speech. It was understandable afterwards. Elizaveta gave his hands a comforting squeeze and an empty, but warm smile. I glanced around the crowd, as nobody had offered themselves, I stood and took a deep breath, my eyes flickering closed for a moment until I took to making my way to the front of the stand. I cleared my breath then began to speak.

"For somebody who knew Gilbert for many years, some might say I knew him for all of his qualities. Those commendable and those which aren't as desirable. Now is not the time for personal grudges though, feuds should end with death, if not before. Although I do regret one action, or rather not taking the time to do one action."

My throat felt dry, although now I was a little too preoccupied from keeping myself from breaking down in front of everybody. What would Gilbert say if I lost my composure during a speech? He would never let me live it down.

"I never apologised for past arguments, as I expected him to be making the effort as ignorance left me to believe that I was correct. I never gave a spare moment to think of why he may say something, even if he was trying to help me, in his own way of jest. I never… I…"

If the dryness hadn't been enough, it felt as if a stone had now caught within my throat. The crowd had also steadily become more blurred as I felt a warm tear slide down the side of my left cheek. No wonder these glasses had been fogging up. I took a second deep breath to recollect myself, looking down towards my feet then clearing my throat, my eyes returning back to the funeral-goers.

"And… I never told him one last important thing. That… Ich liebe dich, Gilbert."

The looks on the crowd's faces said enough. Why would Roderich, rather the nation of Austria, fall for one of his lifelong enemies? Nonetheless, there wasn't a way that I could hold in this confession. Waiting dozens of years was terrible enough, let alone confessing to a man whom laid within a casket behind of me. The warm trickles continued flowing, I was beyond caring at this point. There was no use hiding pain behind a smile, look at what it had already caused?

Nobody knew what had been happening to him, Gilbert kept everything locked behind a smiling façade. Probably the only one to know of the truth was the ink in his diaries.

"Wait…" I muttered to myself softly. His diaries could have the answer within them. I lifted the glasses off of my face and gently slid them into my breast pocket, they were only going to get in the way regardless since they were fogged as anything.

I simply left the front of the crowd, making my way down the isle of the church swiftly. Gilbert had possessed strong religious beliefs in the past, it was only a natural decision to what form of funeral Ludwig and I would organise for him. I ignored the surprised stares and un-approving looks of the other attendants, there were more pressing issues at hand, and social matters and such could wait. I needed to know what had caused his disappearance and quite frankly, I will find out whether it costs me the remainder of my life or sanity.