A/N This has been stuck in my head for some time now, and I'm so glad to get it down...What do I have an obsession with hurting Feli? I cosplay as him, so this is just weird...anyway...I'm not liable for anyone who cries...
Feliciano whimpered as he felt a cold, gloved hand grab the back of his hair. It was instantly shoved down into the cold, wet ground. A foot was slammed onto his back and the same hand pulled his head back.
"Gotcha." The American smiled, and tied Feliciano's hands together with a stretch of rope that he had in his free hand, and gagged him using the spare handkerchief in his pocket.
"Alfred. You don't have to be that harsh. He's only weak."
Arthur placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder, sympathising towards the Italian slightly. Alfred turned around to face the Brit.
"I can do whatever the fuck I want. Without me, you would have had your ass kicked by that German bastard." Staring into his eyes, he snarled, pulling on the rope that the Italian was bound by, forcing him to his feet. Alfred pushed Feliciano harshly, causing him to trip slightly.
"Move, pasta freak, or I'll make sure you never see your little boyfriend again." He gave him another push and began walking behind him like the abusive owner of a defenceless dog.
"Feli?" Ludwig called out his name. The number of Italian troops had yet again dropped harshly, and the trench walls had been broken in several places. The rain fell harder each minute that he spent looking for Feliciano.
"Feli?!" Ludwig had begun to get worried. Feliciano was usually glued to Ludwig, or in the back of the trenches, hiding from the action. But at this moment in time, Ludwig couldn't find him at all.
"S-Sir! A message from the entente!" Henreich, the second in command for the German army ran up to Ludwig, a letter in hand.
"It's addressed to you. Personally." Ludwig paused. To him? Surely if it was anything important, it should be addressed to the axis, or the German army. Hesitantly, he took the letter and opened it slowly.
Ludwig.
We have Feliciano, and if you want to see him again, you better come to the west side of the trenches.
Alone.
Yours sincerely,
Your worst nightmare.
The letter fell to the floor, landing at his feet. They had him. They had Feli. And it wasn't looking good for him.
"Did you send the letter, froggy?"
"Oui, I did. And who put you in charge?" Francis crossed his arms and pouted, catching sight of his Feliciano as his head turned away from Alfred. They had walked for two days; right to the edge of the trenches where no soldier went. The entente alliance had used horses to get there, and Alfred had made Feliciano walk with no breaks, only at night. And even then, he had roughly three hours of rest, with little food and no water. He was currently tied up to a pole with the long end of the rope. He was sat at the foot of the pole, head down and gag removed.
"And how's our little friend doing?" Alfred turned to Feliciano, who didn't move.
"I said, Hows our fucking little friend doing?" Bringing his leg back, the American planted a square kick in Feliciano's chest, causing him to fall onto the floor, coughing up blood. He whimpered, still not saying anything.
"Alfred! Calm down! What are you doing? The letter was sent, so He'll be here soon" Francis grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back in effort to cut Feliciano some slack. Alfred spat at him before turning and sitting next to the camp-fire. He had purposefully built the fire too far out of Feliciano's heat range, so the little Italian was left in the dark and cold...all alone.
Ludwig had arranged for Gilbert to take command and had taken the fastest horse west through the trench roads. All he could think about was the horrible things that the entente could be doing to him right now.
"Mein gott, Feli. Please be okay,"
He rode through the night, until he saw the small glow of the camp-fire in the distance. Three figures sat around the flames, yet Feliciano was no-where to be seen.
"Oh, look. Potato bastard is here." Alfred got up and untied the end of feliciano's restraints, pulling him to his feet and dragging him over to the others. Ludwig dismounted and walked over to the alliance.
"Alfred. Give him back. I came here, what more do you want?"
The American chuckled.
"This is a war...I want your surrender, of course. This is costing me billions of dollars a year. Not to mention the angry citizens." He shoved Feliciano to his knees, pointing a pistol at his head.
"You wouldn't dare." Ludwigs teeth clenched and he took a cautious step closer. Alfred pushed Feliciano into a headlock and pushed the gun closer into his hair. He whimpered and clenched his eyes shut.
"Step closer and I pull the trigger." he flexed his finger on the piece of metal that was separating the bullet from the inside of Feliciano's skull.
"Alfred, bon homme, you don't have to do this." He put his hand on the elbow of the hand clutching the gun. He elbowed him in the face and pushed him back.
"I'll do whatever the fuck it takes to end this fucking war! I'm doing this for you too, Frenchy! All three of us! Aren't you fucking sick of this shit?! Risking people's lives out here when you could be...doing something to help your country!" He breathed heavily and his arm slacked slightly. Ludwig took advantage of this, and stepped closer.
"Doesn't mean I will let him go!" the gun found Feliciano's temple again.
"America...Alfred...You don't have to do this. We can call it a deuce. Both sides surrender." He held out his hand, raising his eyebrows. Alfred didn't budge.
"But, no. You just want to be the hero, don't you? Everything you do. You won't surrender with us because you'll be regarded as a looser to the other countries...Just think how I feel." He sighed. "If this was you...And I had Arthur."
Arthur flinched at the sound of his name, and blushed hard. He knew that Alfred react in the same way that Ludwig was reacting. He stepped over to the American and placed a hand calmly on his shoulder.
"Come on, Alfred. You know you would be the same if it were me...deep down." Alfred turned to Arthur for a split second, looking at him over his shoulder. Ludwig, being the militant that he was, took this opportunity and lunged at the American, grabbing the arm that was around Feliciano's neck. He shoved it up and over his head, and grabbed the Italian beneath by the waist.
But it was too late. The trigger had been pulled when Alfred had swing around to stop Ludwig. Feliciano's limp body fell lifelessly to the ground. The bullet had made a clean shot. He had been dead before he hit the ground. Ludwig stopped and looked at the dead Italian lying on the floor.
"you...you killed him" He dropped to his knees next to the body. It almost looked as if he was sleeping; slacking off in a training session. But the blood smashed that façade for Ludwig. He picked up his lifeless face and propped it onto his knees. His hand stroked Feliciano's cheek and a single tear rolled onto his skin. The allies stepped away from him. Alfred had done it. There was no reversing this.
"Feli? Feli! Come on. Wake up! We...we can get that pasta you wanted. At your favourite restaurant." He shook his head, and a single hair fell off his face. Ludwig reached up and wiped the dried blood off his chin.
"You Bastards!" He turned to the allies, talking specifically to Alfred. "This is your fault! I had just bought the ring...I was going to ask him when this was all over..."
-One month later-
The coffin made its way down the isle. Four men carried the coffin. One was Italian, one spanish and the other two were German. They all wore matching suits, and had tears running down their face. Setting down the coffin, they all walked away...all but one. Ludwig opened the coffin lid and looked at the Italian body inside. He picked up one of his hands and a tear dripped down his cheek. He looked so peaceful...as if the moment of his sleep had been captured in his death. Ludwig put a rose between his soft, manicured hands and smiled between his tears.
"We were going to get married. But I never asked you. I suppose I'm the coward in some ways."
He stood up and walked back to his seat. When the Priest went to look at what Ludwig had left for the Italian, he noticed that it wasn't just a rose he had given him, but a beautiful silver ring with three words ingraved into it.
Ich Libe Dich