Warning: Blood, gore, language, general...
Please go easy on me, people. First story up on here, and I'm so lost. eue
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except the plot. If I did, the world would probably blow up.
EDIT:: Okay, I edited it a little better, just to clarify some things. Hope it really does clarify things, if not, tell me and I'll make it better. I won't be mad, just don't be disrespectful, please!
EDIT2:: Thank you so much to Amethyst Asheryn for all the help with editing this story (and writing gore! 8D). You have no idea what it means to me. ;u;
A magnificent ballroom with tall columns protruding from the skies, decorated bright, shiny gold and sharply contrasting with the dark red walls enclosed the room. All across the glossy wooden floor feet moved about, moving in majestic patterns and occasionally stopping to travel elsewhere. Like directly from a classical children's book such as Cinderella-if Cinderella's men had all been dressed in SS uniforms.
Sharp, icy blue eyes scanned the room, holding neutrality in their depths. The German had never been one for parties, even small ones where you just sit around and discuss political and personal matters in a friendly way whilst drinking wine and other expensive drinks. The blue orbs narrowed when he saw another man, one with dark red eyes and silver hair, swiftly and agilely waltz around in a small corner with a young, wavy blonde haired woman, who was smiling and laughing at something the man had said.
Eventually red locked onto blue, then the albino stopped in his tracks, whispering something to the woman, smiled, and started to shove his way past the dense population of people, black and red SS uniform standing out against the other mostly-gray uniforms. But, the scarlet-eyed man scooted in next to Germany, not taking his eyes off the man's face.
"Hey, West, I haven't seen you dance at all." he stated with a smirk, "What's wrong? Don't like women? The almighty and pure Aryan boy doesn't like girls-oh how rich!"
"Knock it off, Prussia, I'm not in the mood to deal with your..." the blonde started, his face beet red, then sighed. "Please, bruder, I need time to think."
"All work and no play... You have your whole life to think. C'mon, West, have a little fun. It won't kill you, I promise!" The Prussian's smirk widened, and he leaned against the table behind him, grabbing a glass of wine from a server's tray when it passed by.
"If I didn't have so much work-"
"Typical West..." Prussia scoffed and took a sip of his wine, then made a disgusted face, glancing down at the red drink.
"Ew, this stuff must be Austrian. Waiter-chauffeur-...whatever the hell you are! Come here! This wine tastes like mule's ass. Get me something awesome-Prussian wine, maybe?" the server obediently walked over to the Prussian and took his glass, bowing his head a bit, then stalked off to get a new glass of wine.
Germany smoothed out a wrinkle in the arm of his black and red uniform, which was similar to Prussia's, waiting patiently for his brother to stop being so childish.
"Anyways, you need to learn how to live your life the fun way. Like I said before, it's not going to kill you. Now, ask a girl to dance. I bet she'll say yes because you inherited some of my awesomely good looks."
Now it was Germany's turn to scoff.
"What? I'm beautiful!"
"Ja, of course you are." Blue eyes scanned the room once more. Maybe he could stand one dance... It wouldn't be so bad, right? It's just a dance, not warfare. Warfare had to be a lot harder than dancing.
"Yeah, so, go get a girl when the next song plays and dance with her. Trust me, dancing is fun if you know how to do it." Prussia's man-servant then came back with a new wine. Taking it eagerly, he stole a sip and thought for a moment, smacking his lips softly, deciding whether it was true Prussian wine. Nodding and smirking, the Prussian shooed the man off.
It was only then that the German noticed the band back against the wall, playing classical music that the men and women on the floor could dance to.
Prussia scanned the room as well, eyes locking onto a beautiful young brown haired woman, nudging his brother's arm with his elbow. Germany looked over to where the Prussian had pointed and saw the girl. She couldn't have been a day over 20, and her hand was loosely hanging onto an SS officer's arm. The officer looked down and smiled at her, and she smiled back up at him.
"She's taken, bruder." Germany sighed and looked around the room for a free girl to dance with.
"What? By who?" Prussia glanced at Germany, then stared at the woman.
Germany moved his attention back to the girl, then glanced at the officer.
"The officer. She's clinging onto him-"
"West, that's her father, not a potential lover or dance partner. Although it wouldn't be that uncommon if they did dance together. Father-daughter bonding and all that shit." Prussia took another sip of his wine and stared at the blonde male.
The taller blonde blushed a bit at misinterpreting the relationship between them, but coughed softly and regained his composure.
"Go for it, West. I'm gonna stay here and drink my wine. Call me if you need anything." With that, the Prussian gently shoved his brother forward, called a friend over and proceeded to chat with him. Germany clearly wasn't going to be able to argue with Prussia, so instead straightened out his uniform top, readjusted some medals and his iron cross, and walked gracefully and proudly over to the young woman and her father.
"Eh-ehm... Um, excuse me, sir?" Lightly tapping the officer's shoulder, Germany blushed a bit, and waited nervously for the father and daughter to turn around. Once they did, the Aryan's heart dropped to his stomach and he froze. What did he say now? Just that he wanted to dance? The nation's mind went into overdrive trying to think of what to say to the man.
"Oh, Deutschland! Hello!" A warm smile found itself on the officer's mouth, his daughter gazing into Germany's still icy-but-nervous blue eyes, a gorgeous smile gracing her full lips, lighting up her face and making her prettier-if possible.
"Ja, hallo... Uh, I-I was just wondering..." What was he doing? He had to pull himself together if he really wanted to dance with this girl!
"Hmm? What is it? Is something wrong?" The smile turned into a slight frown.
"No! No, not at all... I was just wondering-" Germany paused, then blurted out. "If I could dance with your daughter!"
"Mmm? But of course! Why didn't you just say so?" The smile was back now.
"Uh, but only if Miss would like to..." The blonde looked over to the young, light brown haired girl, and there was a spark of happiness in her dark blue eyes due to actually getting a say in things.
"My name is Katarina, and I...would love to." Came the reply, and Ludwig smiled with relief. Just in time, too-the next song was about to start. The German took the girl's hand, kissed it (she giggled lightly at this), then led her to the center of the crowded floor, getting into the waltzing position.
As they danced, Prussia looked on with approval, a small smile on his face. Maybe his dork of a brother did have a slight chance at living a fun lifestyle. Just maybe.
When the dance ended and the people were clapping, the room exploded into a dazzling white light and a deafening, thunderous noise resounded, echoing against the walls. People were screaming for their loved ones, grabbing onto each other for at least a little comfort, pulling each other down when one collapsed and wouldn't lose the vice-like grip.
One woman's skin was half-melted and you could clearly see muscle, bones, and organs under the skin that was practically falling off of her body, but she was still clinging onto a man who was suffering the same fate as she, but trying to fight her grip.
At this point, nobody was safe brom the blast. Germany realized then instinctively shut his eyes and got down within a couple seconds and buried his face in the crook of his arm. The white light was almost gone, but instead replaced with a monstrous blazing flame which engulfing the former officers and captains. His body was burning and intestines were floating over toward him via a river system of blood, and he prayed his own insides didn't come out of his body anytime soon, but he quickly found the strength to bring his hand out in front of his face. The skin, like most other people's, was peeling off rather quickly, revealing muscle and bits of bone, and it hurt like hell.
'No,' Germany thought, remembering all the people's screams and injuries, the white light and the sound of exploding matter, 'this is hell.' And it wasn't far from the truth at all. The heat was unbearable, like being thrown into hell's deepest pit and chained to a wall so you couldn't escape it. Like the devil himself stepped in the room, and refused to leave until he had a nice glass of wine and a pretty girl to dance with.
Suddenly wondering if he was just alive because he was a nation, Germany remembered Prussia was with him. But where could the albino be? Through a hazy fog, the Aryan turned his head slowly, wincing when his uniform collar rubbed against his burnt and scarred neck.
Wait, how the hell was someone able to get a bomb into a secure party in the first place? Germany coughed heavily and forgot about his bomb question for a moment, then resumed looking for Prussia.
Through his squinted eyes and fading eyesight, he saw his brother laying in front of him through a cloud of dark gray smoke, back facing the German. Noting that the man wasn't moving at all, Germany fought the urge to just pronounce his brother officially dead and try to get out by himself. Slowly turning the Prussian's body over, Germany gagged, and tried not to throw up everything he had eaten that day.
Intestines spilled out through a gash in Prussia's stomach, already partially turning to mush in a pile in between the German and the corpse. His uniform was ripped and seared, blood seemingly gushing out of every pore. The body's arm was just hanging onto the rest of his body by a string of burnt muscle tissue and flesh, his face was red, charred, and seeping blood through wounds, his left eye hanging loosely down near his ear. Silver hair was stained red, still semi-wet blood matting the locks which shined an orange-like color because of the fire raging in the room, which was now starting to lick at the albino's face.
Germany's heart broke, and he pulled back his hand slowly, finding it to be completely stained with a mix of his brother's and his own blood. A lone tear rolling down his face, entering his burn wounds and starting to sting like alcohol.
"Bruder..."
'This thing isn't my brother.'
A dull red eye was staring at him.
Germany's vision went black.
"...an... Ger...many... German... Germany!"
The blonde snapped his eyes open and screamed, already in a cold sweat, shaking rapidly, eyes darting everywhere possible, finding himself sitting up against an abandoned building somewhere in Berlin.
"Mr. Germany! Please calm down! You were screaming-I think you had a nightmare." Someone was shaking him now.
The German calmed down a bit and tried to focus his vision. The man shaking him was Japan, Italy standing next to him sobbing quietly.
"Did...did I die?"
"No, Germany! You're alive!" Italy whined pathetically, fiddling with one of his uniform's buttons.
Japan was now looking at him worriedly.
"Where's bruder...? Where's Prussia?"
"Germany... Prussia died about a year ago... Back in 1943 at the ballroom dance in-"
"...The explosion..." Germany finished and his eyes went wide.
"Yes... He said it would be fun, and a little fun wouldn't kill anyone... You claimed you had work to do, so he went alone..."
Leaping to his feet, the German bolted through the city over to where the ballroom was located.
It seemed like the accident had happened way more than a year ago to Germany, but, in truth, it hadn't been that long at all. Prussia had insisted for both of them to go, but Germany lied to him and said he had work to do. Prussia had frowned and called the German 'unawesome', but went anyway. It was only later that night that Germany had found out that someone had bombed the ballroom, hoping to eliminate the blonde nation-they hadn't heard Germany wasn't there, apparently. Prussia had died next to a girl he had been dancing with; a young wavy haired blonde that had a good sense of humor. Germany's eyes teared up at the thought (which he stubbornly pushed away), and ran faster, pushing past people and eventually arriving at a mansion that was in utter ruins. Once the ballroom had blown up and blood had covered the walls, the place had been shut down, now only housing mice and tragic memories.
Germany gathered all of his strength into his right foot, and kicked the doors down. Something inside of him snapped at that moment. The normal abandoned and dull room morphed into a grotesque scene with fire blazing throughout it, and the Aryan found himself looking down at his once-army-green-uniform, which had somehow changed into the same SS uniform he had on in his nightmare. Then he looked around the room, a horrified expression on his face. Bodies-hundreds of bodies- were scattered everywhere, the fire licking at their mangled clothes and faces, the ballroom lit up only by the flames, and there Prussia's body was-over by the table, lying in dried blood, already almost turned into but a pile of bones, along with every other corpse.
He gagged and looked down, seeing something on the ground.
A rotting red eye was staring at him.
Germany fell to his knees and screamed until his lungs were raw, not being able to hold onto his sanity any longer, then clutched at his chest, spluttering out incoherent sentences, silently pleading for his brother to hold him and tell him it was all okay.
Japan and Italy found the body of their comrade lying motionlessly right inside the front doors, clutching his chest, his dull blue eyes wide open. They had called the police and waited with the body until they heard the sirens blaring, slowly getting up and going to talk with the authorities. The coroner had determined Germany had died of a heart attack. The police, coroner, and medics, along with Italy and Japan searched around the room to see if someone or something had scared the Germanic nation, but there was nothing in the room except dusty furniture and what remained of a drum set and what was once beautiful golden pillars and dark red wallpaper, along with a heavy wooden table in the middle of the room with a rusty and broken iron cross with a chain attached laying next to it.
"A little fun never killed anyone, West..."
A.N. Holy shet, okay, first one. What do you guys think? o3o