This is a short story set when the Germans were invading the Soviet Union in WWII.

Hetalia and all these characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Germany's boots crunched softly in the snow as he crept along. Thick flakes fell densely, making it nearly impossible to see more than a foot ahead of him. Verdammt! Ludwig thought to himself. How did this happen? One minute he was marching with his men, and the next, a blizzard came down unnaturally strong, as if the weather knew who they were and wanted them out. The group quickly became separated, losing sight of Gilbert first. His brother's white hair and pale skin made him disappear easily into the snow.

Germany shivered, only partially from the cold. He had an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was well aware of the fact that he couldn't freeze to death, being immortal and all, but he still felt on edge. I can't wait to be out of this frozen wasteland of a country.

"Bruder, wo bist du?" Germany groaned. Prussia always knew what to do when Germany needed him.

Ludwig's eyes widened, and he spun around, stabbing the air with his gun. There was nothing there. I could've sworn I heard something…

Taking a deep breath, the blonde nation ran a gloved hand through his hair. I need to focus on finding the others. Germany continued trudging through the snow that was now almost two feet deep. He didn't get far before he heard a noise again, as if something was walking nearby.

"Bruder?" Germany called out. A giggle came from somewhere behind him. A child?

"Who's out there?" Germany asked. There was no answer, so he continued, "I'm warning you, I'm armed and won't hesitate to shoot." The giggle came again. While Ludwig was slowly spinning around and searching for the owner of the laughter, the blizzard intensified.

Arctic wind cut right through his uniform. Germany clenched his eyes shut to protect them from the snow whipping into his face at painful speeds. Every flake was like a needle pricking his skin.

Too late, he sensed a presence behind him. His gun was twisted out of his frozen grip and disappeared into the sea of white. Before Germany could move to grab the knife at his belt, an old-fashioned sword was pressed against his neck, forcing him to raise his head.

"Privyet, Germaniya," A condescending voice whispered into his ear.

Germany spat, "Russia." How could I have forgotten that unnatural giggle?

"It's been awhile, da?" Russia said. "I've been waiting to… talk to you for awhile."

"I won't tell you anything," Germany growled. While he spoke, he snuck his hand down to his side and grasped the hilt of his knife.

"Ah, ah, ah," Russia admonished, pressing his sword hard enough to create a thin rivulet of blood flowing down into the collar of his shirt. Icy fingers covered his own and pulled his knife away. Ivan tucked it into one of the many pockets in his coat and snaked his arm around Ludwig's waist.

Germany looked at Russia out of the corner of his eyes and snarled, "Get your filthy hands off me."

Russia chuckled lightly and rested his chin on Germany's shoulder, saying, "You and Prussia are always demanding things. It will be fun breaking you. I'll bet your screams will sound wonderful."

"I'm stronger than those wimps you call servants. I don't scream," Germany replied. As he spoke the last word, he slammed his elbow into Russia's stomach. Ivan grunted and fell backwards slightly, just enough to allow the German to break free. He immediately snatched the spare gun hidden on his back. A shot rang out, followed by searing pain in his arm. A second shot shattered his foot, and he fell to his knees among the red splattered snow.

The point of a sword forced Germany's chin up again, his teeth clenched in agony as he glared at Russia. Bastard.

"I never cared much for guns," Ivan admitted, pressing a still warm muzzle against Germany's slicked back hair.

"Nevertheless," Russia said as he cocked the pistol. "I can't have you escaping before I catch your freak brother."

"Just wait," Germany promised in a voice laden with a combination of discomfort and anger. "Bruder will find me, and when he does, we'll destroy you. Ein Hoch der deutschen Revolution."

Russia gave him a wide smile and replied, "Dobroy nochi, Ludwig."

And then he pulled the trigger.

German translations:

Verdammt- damn it

Bruder, wo bist du? - Brother, where are you?

Ein hoch der deutschen Revolution - Long live the German Revolution (it's from a Nazi song)

Russian translations:

Privyet, Germaniya - Hello, Germany

Dobroy nochi - good night