AN: I felt like writing a darker fic. Oh well.

I hope I at least did a decent job on this.

(If you don't get the title, just look up what it means.)

Italy leaned against the window frame, watching as the night sky across the Channel lit up with the bombs from the Luftwaffes. He smirked, tossing his dagger between his hands as he began to sing.

London Bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.

London Bridge is falling down, my poor England.

He giggled as he tossed the dagger high in the air, watching the deadly glint of metal as it flipped before coming back down. He deftly caught it, continuing his song.

Take a plane and bomb it all, bomb it all, bomb it all.

Take a plane and bomb it all, my dear Ludwig.

"I thought I already was?"

He spun around, arm pulled back and ready to toss the weapon. His hand fell back to his side when he realized it was Ludwig. He was leaning against the desk, arms crossed and smirking as he watched Italy calm himself.

"Don't startle me like that," he chastised. "I could have hurt you."

Ludwig pushed off of the desk, moving so he was within an arm's reach of Italy. "Is that so?"

"Very," Feliciano answered. "I could have thrown this, and it would have gone straight for the heart." He pressed the blade against his lover's chest. "You know I never miss."

Ludwig chuckled darkly as he moved forward, the knife pressing harder against his chest as he pinned his willing captive to the frame. "You should have; I would have relished the challenge."

"If you wanted a challenge, you only had to ask." He twisted the knife, neither flinching as it easily sliced through cloth and nicked Ludwig's skin. A swell of blood stained his uniform, but neither of them paid it any mind.

"I could have, but that would have taken away the fun, no?" He hand shot out from his side, and Italy gasped as he felt the cold sting of metal against his side. Ludwig's knife was impaled on the wall, a large tear in the material of Feliciano's uniform revealing a long cut oozing blood.

He smirked up at Ludwig and giggled. "I do so love a man who keeps a sharp knife." He pressed his hand to his side, watching as his blood spilled over his fingers. He brought his bloodied digits up to his lips, licking them clean. Ludwig watched him with half-lidded eyes.

Still sucking his fingers, he brought his other hand up to Ludwig's chest. He coated his fingers in his lover's blood before bringing them up to the blond's face, leaving crimson marks as he ran them across his cheek.

"You look beautiful in red, love. It's a shame you can't wear this shade more often," he said, his hands leaving a red trail down Ludwig's neck. He leaned forward and licked his neck, loving the shiver he felt as copper and salt left a heady taste in his mouth.

Ludwig yanked him forward, leading him toward the bed. "I'll be wearing it soon enough. I've been assigned field duty for the next three months, at the least. And thanks to some persuasion, I'll be able to see you in it as well, as you have been assigned to my regiment."

They reached the bed, and Feliciano threw himself back onto the white sheets. He left dark hand prints across the white field as he pushed himself further up the bed, beckoning to Ludwig as he spread his legs.

"These sheets are too clean and white, Ludwig. They need to be stained."

"Red?"

"Of course."

Laughter rang through the air as they literally danced across the bloodstained field. An arm around a waist, and another thrown over a shoulder as they kicked up dirt and blood with their boots. They nimbly leapt over the bodies of the fallen, looking as if they were in the world's finest ballroom instead of a battlefield.

"A good day, don't you think?" Italy asked as he was twirled.

"Beautiful. The enemy suffered much heavier losses than us, we gained strategic ground, and we still have time for a dance before dinner."

Feliciano hummed, then spun out of Ludwig's arms. He pulled up his gun, letting loose a flurry of bullets into the still struggling body of an English soldier. The man stilled, the last of his blood running into the soaked earth around him.

Feliciano immediately returned to Ludwig's arms, and they continued dancing to some unheard beat. "Those Englishmen don't know when to quit, do they?"

"Evidently not," Ludwig scoffed. "The English are nothing if not stubborn. They remind me of cockroaches at times; you could bomb them and more will come crawling out of the places you missed."

Italy giggled as they waltzed their way back to camp.

The officer led them through the camp, making sure to stop by all the necessary facilities. Germany and Italy watched with only mild interest as the barracks, execution range, gas rooms and crematorium were all pronounced up to standards.

"We're not here as inspectors, Lieutenant. We're here to find out why you haven't met your weekly quota for the past month."

"Ah, well you see, sir, the prisoners haven't been reacting in a favorable manner toward our program of making them acceptable to low society. We haven't been able to find many excuses to –"

Ludwig cut him off. "You don't need excuses. If they cannot be deemed acceptable for the lowest dregs of our society, then they are useless."

He pulled out his gun and aimed at a skeleton of a woman leaning over her laundry bucket. She didn't even have time to flinch before a bullet was buried in her head. Her body collapsed into the bucket with a splash that rang out in the sudden silence of the camp.

"I expect to see you reach your quota next week."

With that Ludwig and Feliciano turned and left the camp, leaving behind two now motherless children and a bucket of swirling crimson water.

The wind was fierce, cold, and biting. Snow fell around them as they tried to make camp in the unforgiving elements of winter. Men seemed to be dropping left and right, and Ludwig made sure to keep a close eye on Italy. Losing sight of someone in this weather would likely mean losing them forever.

"L-Ludwig, I'm c-cold."

He pulled Italy closer, trying to shield him as much as he could as they leaned against the temporary wall of the cooking shack. The barracks had yet to be put up, and it was highly doubtful they would get done tonight. Near the kitchen was the next best place to be.

"I know, Feli. I'm s-sorry."

"D-Don't be. It's our bosses' fault we're here. They d-didn't want to listen when we told them this was a very b-bad idea. We've s-seen this idea fail many times before," he stuttered. Ludwig didn't try to say anything to that.

"I hate the snow," Feliciano said after a few silent minutes between them. "It's too white. And c-cold."

"I hate it too," Ludwig replied. Visions of virgin snow colored with the blood of his men and churned with their footsteps danced across his vision. "But – just this once – I think I prefer it white."

Feliciano collapsed onto his hands and knees as pain rocketed through him. His limbs shivered and felt weak as he began coughing up blood. Ludwig flew to Italy's side, supporting and comforting him as blood spewed from his mouth.

It only lasted minutes, but seemed to go on for hours. Italy's coughs eventually died down, then stopped. Ludwig helped him to his feet, and Feliciano could immediately tell something was missing. Something that was a part of him.

A mere moment later he realized he could no longer feel Italy, his people, or his brother. The only heart beating in his chest was his own. "They're gone," he whispered, lost.

"What?"

"They're gone. My people, my fratello, my country. I'm... I'm no longer Italy." He fell back to his knees, Ludwig kneeling next to him and taking him into his arms. "I'm not my country anymore. I'm not here anymore. I'm not me anymore. They're gone, all gone. Oh Dio, they've taken my country from me. I can't feel them..."

Ludwig could do nothing but hold and comfort him as he broke down. His sobs echoed in the office, sounding so much worse than the horrible hacking of only a few minutes before. It wasn't until much later that the sobs died down, only their echo remaining in their ears.

Ludwig gently pulled him to his feet again, keeping an arm around his waist as they turned toward the door. Carefully maneuvering them, he asked, "Would you like some pasta? Good food is always a big help."

"Sì, pasta would be very good right now."

Both of them ignored the red splatter across the carpet.

Ludwig arched off the bed, pain shooting through him as he turned and retched over the side of the bed. Feliciano immediately woke up, rubbing soothing circles on his back as blood poured from his mouth in a horrifying repeat of Feliciano's pain. Eventually his retching turned to coughs, and the coughs to sobs as he realized he could no longer feel the heartbeat of his people within him. Feliciano could only hold him, whispering sweet nothings in Italian as he sobbed into his shoulder.

"Gone, all gone. I can't feel them..."

"Shh, Ludwig, I know. But you must be strong. There's still one more thing we need to do."

Ludwig pulled back, wiping tears from his eyes as he glanced out of the window. Berlin was lighting up with the bombs of the Allies, much the same way as London had only a few years ago. Back when they'd felt so assured of their victory.

"You're right. Just one more thing."

They both rolled out of bed, closing all of the curtains before turning on the lights. They went downstairs and grabbed the cleaning supplies, working their way through every nook and cranny of the house and making sure the place was absolutely spotless. When that was done they went to Ludwig's study, and burned every single piece of paper that had to do with the war that had cost them everything but each other.

They wrapped their arms around each other as they watched the papers blacken and turn to ash. Ludwig carefully scooped up every grain of ash into an urn he had on the fireplace, going to the window Feliciano had opened and overturning it. The ashes spilled out and were caught by the wind, scattering in every direction.

Ludwig headed for the bedroom, but Feliciano caught his hand and shook his head, pulling him to the bathroom. They showered together, gently washing each other as they reveled in the innocent comfort of skin-on-skin contact. They clung to each other as the water seemed to wash away everything but themselves.

The water turned cold, and they quickly got out. They dried themselves and pulled on a pair of pants, silently agreeing to forgo shirts. Ludwig shut off the last of the lights and crawled into bed, pulling Feliciano close to him as they buried their faces in each other's neck. He took a deep breath and reached under his pillow, pulling out his favorite gun.

"Is it strong enough for just one shot?" Feliciano asked, slightly muffled.

"Yes."

"Good." Feliciano shifted even closer, tangling his legs with Ludwig's as he wrapped his arms around his chest. "Ich liebe dich, Ludwig."

"Ti amo, Feliciano."

A single shot rang out in the still night air.

When the Allies finally forced open the door, all that met them were two smiling corpses.

AN: Hope you liked it! Any reviews make me very happy. :D