Russia was standing on the balcony of his house in Leningrad. He had a lazy smile on his face. His thoughts were focused on how well things were going between himself and Prussia. The invasion of Poland had been perfect, there had even been a moment when they had been so close that Russia could almost taste the porcelain skin. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips remembering it. Then he had seen glorious retribution exacted upon France at the albino's hand; it had been beautiful and only reinforced the cruelty Russia had seen behind those eyes when offering the nonaggression pact.

Below him he could see people milling about, doing tasks that would help the war. It wasn't entirely necessary, considering how handily the army had dealt with every challenge yet. He took a step closer to the edge of the balcony, feeling the rare warmth of the sun wash across his face. His smile spread all the way across his face.

There was the soft thump of boot steps sounded behind him, but it wasn't worrying. No one who meant him harm could get in here, his guards would make sure of that. He barely turned as he said, "Who is there?" On some level, he understood that the person behind him had too much weight in his step to be either of his sisters.
The voice that responded was male and very familiar, "You already know, Ivan."

Prussia's voice, so very unique, was a welcome surprise. Russia had sensed that there was chemistry between them, but he hadn't expected the other to act on it so quickly. He spoke, without turning to face Prussia; "You're seeking me out by yourself, Gilbert?" He couldn't stop his smile, knowing where this was going to go. He turned slowly, for dramatic effect and to prolong the joy of seeing Prussia submissive. He spoke as he did so, "It's almost as though you're fond of-"

Before he could finish his sentence, a jolt of pain shot through his chest. The force of whatever had hit him knocked him back. The pain overwhelming his senses, he didn't make the choice to fall to one knee. He put one hand to the center of the burning pain and felt wetness and a distinct hole. His mind finally caught up with what his body was telling him. He had been shot.

Russia looked up at the man standing on the other side of the room, his eyes starting to burn with unbidden tears. The white hair and skin was obvious against the black uniform. The white hands were wrapped around a sleek black handgun with a silencer attached. Prussia's face was completely expressionless until he noticed that Russia was glaring at him. Then he smiled and took a couple even steps forward, "Does that hurt, communist pig?"

A click, which was seemingly deafening in the silent room, signaled that Prussia had cocked the gun again. He walked still closer, while Russia contemplated if he had enough strength to push himself up and tackle the albino. But, something other than his pain was freezing him. The moisture that had been stinging his eyes slowly ran down his cheeks. He refused to voice this weakness though. He looked up and said between his gritted teeth, "We had a pact!"

Once he got closer, the light fell across Prussia's face, revealing that his eyes were completely void of emotion. Even the smile painted across the pale lips didn't seem to reach into the endless ruby. The German responded, "We did, while you were useful. But there was one factor: Your ideology is a disease that should be wiped from the Earth." He took the final step that closed the space between them. The barrel of the gun filled the Russian's vision, long and twisting, the black depth promising a quick death.

Russia spoke the only words that could come to his mind, "How can someone like you become that madman's lapdog?" He spat the words with utter venom, hoping to get some response.
Prussia finally truly reacted, growling in the back of his throat. He spoke, "If you want to waste your last breaths insulting me, that's your choice. It only shortens the time before I put a bullet in your head." Russia could see the single white finger move to the trigger.

But, a minute passed and then another. There was no sound but the silence and drops of blood rolling off of Russia's hand and hitting the floor with an irritating kind of regularity. Then, Prussia's face slipped into a grimace for a split second before returning to completely emotionless and his finger slipped off the trigger. With a dull thud, the hammer of the gun slipped back into place with no shot exploding out of the end of the muzzle. Without a single word, the albino turned sharply on his heel and walked out.

Russia finally forced himself to his feel and yelled after the other, "You better kill me now, or I will make you pay tenfold for this!" Prussia turned one more time. His face was completely pale, a white mask. His jaw was clearly set and clenched. He raised the gun one more time and fired again. This time the bullet smashed through the shoulder, knocking Russia again to his knees. As the door closed behind Prussia, Russia let out a long groan born of a mix of frustration and pain. He had been naïve, even absurdly trusting and now he was paying for it. But, a single spark of rage ignited. He vowed to wage a war of total destruction, to bring Prussia down.

A/N: I've finally decided to rewrite Break Me, since it does desperately need to be done. It was the first RusPru story I wrote and it was not, honestly, my best writing. But, the plot is central to everything else I've written about them so I couldn't simply delete it. Therefor, I am updating it to fit with the rest of the trilogy.
I've kept the betrayal as the prologue, but I've decided to make it more accurate to the history.
Anyway, please review and tell me what you think!