Notes: I'm revising this to correct anything that was written wrong. English isn't my 1st language so I ask forgiveness if I misplaced something. It's the 1st work I've written, not used to write but do hope you find it nice.

I was inspired to write this after reading Sailorgreywolf' Stockholm Syndrome Trilogy (go take a look, it's awesome, be aware of the rating!). No, they are not linked, but I felt the urge to write about a strong storm of feelings going inside Germany. I use the 5 phases of acceptance of bad news on it (5 stages of loss and grief, the Kübler-Ross model). I didn't attach to any historical information, just wanted to talk about grief. I sought strong emotions and try to play with words so this can be the most innocent text you've ever read or M-rated stuff, so, as I like to play safe rather to be sorry, it's M-rated. It does have lots of curses, swearing and alike, blood and violence.

Also, as you can see, I use - and " to talks and thoughts, respectively. This is to let my writing less messy, hope it helps. I also put some google translated words inside, small thing to not get wrong. Here nations only let those who are intimate to them call their human names, keep that in mind. Last thing: even if its URSS time, I still call it Russia because I can and like the name better and Ivan is Ivan. I think it's not needed to say this but I don't own Hetalia nor its characters, this is purely the work of of a mind in need to take a rest.

Chapter 1 – Prelude

"It's- it's all my fault...". He thought. "I... I let it happen-".

And his knees touched the earth while the rain lightly caress his face – the perfect contrast to his tumultuous feelings.

He, who always seemed so composed, who valued strength and order, was hidden between the trees of a park.

This way no one would hear... Nor see...

The shame, tears and regret covering the nation's face and, even as broken as he was, he had to held on, for his people, for himself and – he thought as a new wave of despair washed him – his brother.

When he first found out that the allied plan, as a punishment and a kind of a payback, was to split the country in two letting him and his brother away from each other, he got mad. Mad as pure anger overcame his soul, not even fighting the WW II made him feel like that, not even once.

His pulse was strong and fast as adrenaline ran through his body, this mirrored his eyes that looked like a blood lust rush that was to be released. The eyes showed such pure rage that the American who had spoken the absurd nonsense (about the split), was asking himself if the pair of chains restraining the German's body would hold.

He had to do something. He wouldn't let his precious, beloved and noisy brother fall in the hands of that 'fucking communist bastard'. Thinking, his self control was shattered to pieces, he got up and yelled:

- NEIN! I won't agree with that!

The veins on his neck visible to any who paid attention to the outburst.

The American made an annoyed face "how does he dares to interrupt the hero and yell?", but before he could say anything a calm voice – as cold as ice – said:

- If you engaged war without measuring the weight of a complete defeat, you should go back and use diapers. And also...

Now his voice seemed lower, focused on the German and hell, it could pierce:

- ... You should be more careful while choosing who to betray.

Said that the Russian raised his voice tone so everyone could clearly hear him:

- Germany WILL be split and I'll take – good – care of my side, making sure that there won't be anymore Nazis on history.

As he finished, a cold and scary smirk crossed his face.

Germany found himself petrified with the thought: "Russia is openly reveling a torture plan and God-knows-what-more!", but the only reaction from the allied force was a cough from England, flipping pages from France (who seemed to like the idea – even if it came from the Russian) and a burning glare from America directed to Russia (who certainly felt it but couldn't care less).

The anger faded to a deep and chilling despair. Prussia put his hands on his brother's shoulder, feeling his muscles tremble and contract with the light touch.

- If Germany is going to get broken in the middle...

"There was no other word if not broken to describe what this shit is" he thought.

- ... Wouldn't it be better if East was made Russian territory?

Germany eyes went wide, surely no one was INSANE enough to WANT to be controlled by that... that... "Oh God", his brother was sacrificing himself for him.

- I cannot allow that bruder.

His face was white, his resolution was weak but he knew he couldn't let it happen.

- I made this war, it was my fault that you all had to fall...

He said that first looking to his allies and after to his former enemies – or maybe still enemies.

- ... As it is, nothing is more right than making me go through this.

There was an unnerving whisper outbreak from the allied side.

Italy had been crying all the time in soft sobs, too scared to face anyone – even Germany, for the final betrayal was his, and he didn't know if the German still called him friend; but when he heard that, it was as if a ghost had played with his insides – he put his hand on the mouth, trying to hold on. Even if he was always called the scared cat he knew that Russia was bad news, totally bad news, even for Germany – who was strong, resolute and... His thoughts were broken when he hear Japan whisper to him:

- Italy-kun?

The Italian then weakly waved his hand, turning his looks to the brothers.

- West, I'm a fallen nation! I don't have anything, ANYTHING to lose, except you. You are the light to our people, I'm just...

Correcting himself so his brother wouldn't get too much concerned:

- ... As awesome as I AM, I'm not what they need to get over this bull-crap and rebuild.

He patted his brothers head, what made the blonde look at him, his mind full off old memories between the thoughts of "he must be right... He always were...".

As the whispers stopped one could see, no, not see but feel, the evil smile – or maybe grin – on the Russian's face, delighting on the brother's agony.

"This will be so much fun~" he tilted his head softly to the side "Now I just need to show everyone that they need to – become one – with Russia".

As the thought crossed his mind, as the scene played before his eyes, as the weak were squirming under his gaze, he KNEW no one would go against him and he would make the Germans pay, oh that he would.

France started to watch the allied bench with worry – he knew that if it wasn't for the Soviet help he was dammed to probably disappear, and the idea of the idiotic brothers broken was tempting, but he had chills on his spine.

- Oui oui, now that the touchy-feeling-brotherly moment is over, what about you telling them what will happen?

The French then turned to the American.

Broken from his not so heroic murder gaze against Russia, America read out loud – looking now at the brothers which seemed to have, somehow, remade the facade of control.

- To atone for your sins – thousands of murders, torture...

He stopped to read, what made England rise an eyebrow and scoff:

- Be over with it, you idiot.

Ignoring the Englishman and trowing all his papers away, he resumed:

- ... You damn know the fuck you have done and you will be fucking split in the middle. As a hero I would take care of both of you, make a man out of you...

"Wow" Germany thought "I wanna kill this idiot. Now I know why England gets freaky all the time when he's around".

- ... BUT as it is, it won't happen and, as Prussia made such an heroic stand...

You could hear jealousy mixed in his voice.

- ... I'll let Russia take him.

- NO, WHAT?

That broke Germany.

- Are you fucking insane? Narr! Do you even...

But he was interrupted as a pipe was threw inches of his face, making a hole on the floor where it stabbed.

- It's not nice to be all worked up like that Ludwig.

The bastard dared to use his human name! As he realized that his brother would be as good as dead if the Russian touched him, he tried to get up just to be meet by his brother's shaking hands.

- Bruder remember, I'm awesome, nothing can crush me, nothing will make me break.

As it was said, the Russian watched the fear on the albino's eye and his weak controlled quiver and thought "It will be ~oh ~so ~much ~fun".

So it was set. West Germany would be under the USA wing (meaning western allied force), while East had the Soviet on his back.

Germany took a last look to his brothers as the allied came to them. Refusing to let go he then hugged as hard as he could his brother, leaving the slightly smaller German without air. They were tore apart by strong hands – their 'protectors'. All composure lost, no one saw Germany so broken as while he was screaming:

- BRUDER! BRUDER! GILBERT!

Trying to get near his brother. All in vain because the Russian was already leaving with him, but not without first whispering something that Germany heard by chance:

- Let's go home, my little bunny, the fun time begins now~.

Shaking, Germany feel on all four. A pitiful view, even for his former enemies.

Meanwhile Japan, strangely as it seemed to him, hugged the Italian brothers, trying to soothe them.

It was over, for now, and he had just entered Hell.