Screams.

The gunshots sounded so close...

Gilbert hugged his baby brother closer. The baby, whom they had decided to call Ludwig, was crying, scared by the chaos outside. "Shh, West," Gilbert whispered. "They'll hear us. We can't let them hear us." Ludwig let a few more tears fall before burrowing his face into Gilbert's jacket.

They were in the darkest corner, farthest away from the door and the windows, in an old abandoned church (it's always churches, isn't it?). They spent a lot of time at church, so that was where their father had them hide.

"Stay here and be very quiet," he had told them. "If anyone hears you, they won't hesitate to kill you and Ludwig."

But what about you, father? Will they kill you?

The whole church shook as something was smashed into the door of the church. Ludwig's head popped up and they both stared at the old, creaky doors. Bits of dust and wood chips flew off as the door was rammed again. Ludwig began to scream, but Gilbert stuffed a piece of his jacket in Ludwig's mouth. "Quiet. They won't get in." Ludwig gave him a look. You can't lie well, bruder. Gilbert sighed, then gave his brother a small smile. "And if they do, they won't get to you. I won't allow it."

Why was this happening? Was it really all that bad? People didn't like what the king did. Their father never really liked it, either. But the people hated it more.

And that was why their mother had sent them to their father. At least, that was what he heard. It was no secret that the king was a little off, a little weird, a little crazy. So when he finally snapped, no one was very surprised. They had been ready for this day, ready for this revolution. And so, remembering where they came from, their father hid them away in the church, 7-year-old Gilbert and 2-year-old Ludwig, to wait out the storm.

Their father didn't believe either of them would survive, considering where they came from. He wasn't their real father, anyways, so it wasn't like he cared, right?

Gilbert didn't care. The only thing he cared about was Ludwig.

More crying. Mein gott... Poor West.

"Don't cry, no, shh! They're going to hear you!"

Gilbert snatched a sliver of wood from the floor and scratched a symbol into the cupboard- a cross. He pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around Ludwig, hugging him and rocking back and forth.

"You can't cry now, ok? Be quiet- very quiet- and I promise, Father will find you. I promise. You'll be safe, West-And tell them- Tell them I said I'm sorry." He pulled off his necklace, an iron cross that his mother had given to him before they were given to the man now called their father. He slipped the necklace around Ludwig's neck and placed the charm into his tiny hand, closing his fingers around it. "Remember me, kay? I-" He swallowed, and smiled the smallest of smiles. "I love you..."

He sat Ludwig, wrapped in the jacket, inside of the cupboard. He closed it and jumped back as the door broke open. Soldiers- no, men- came in and glared at Gilbert. "It's the boy!" One of them shouted, and that was all it took. Gilbert dashed towards the door, dodging the blows that came. One of them managed to grab his shirt, but Gilbert quickly ripped it out of the man's hand and sped away. The revolutionaries split up. Some told others about where they had seen him, and which way he had run. Some gathered more forces to surround him. Some just went home, happy that most of the fighting was over, and sort of happy the poor child got away. His life was ruined as it was.

-o-

The broken door couldn't be a good sign.

No, Gilbert and Ludwig's 'father' expected them both to be inside, dead- if he was lucky. More likely they had been taken away to be tortured for information they didn't have. He had tried so hard to make sure they didn't know where they came from, but he had a hunch that Gilbert knew, or was close to knowing.

He wasn't going to let himself cry over them. He wasn't their father, after all, he just felt that way. But when he saw the empty room he almost wanted to cry over them. He had become kind of attached to the children, which he knew was wrong. He kept telling himself he didn't need to feel any love for them, that he was only doing his duty to the crown, but it was more than that. He wasn't married, and now, probably never would be married (not for love, at least), but he still felt like these were his children.

Please... Let one of them be alive, if only one... I can't bear losing them both...

But he knew it had to be both, since the room was empty, the door busted down, tables flipped and half-spent candles strewn all over the floor.

Then he saw the cross.

The cross, scratched hastily into the cupboard door, and somehow he understood. Gilbert- the strange child, the one that kept to himself- had done something to let his brother stay safe while he had likely been captured. Poor child... He loved Gilbert, he did. But although he kne wit was horribly, horribly wrong, he felt that if he had to choose one child- he would choose Ludwig over Gilbert. It was wrong of him to do this, to be able to choose one child over the other, but still.

And it was this kind of action that made it so he could never understand Gilbert. The child normally acted like he didn't care what happened, and here he had gone and thrown himself into danger so his brother might have a chance.

He threw open the cupboard doors and scooped up Ludwig, Gilbert's coat falling to the floor, their father hugging his 'only child' tight to his chest, mumbling endearments to him. Ludwig reaching to the coat on the floor with one hand, clutching the cross on his brother's necklace with the other, a single tear still shining on his cheek.

-o-

Gilbert ran back into the church. His face was bruised and bloodied, his clothes soaked with blood- most of it his own- and torn in many places. This had been the most terrible night of his life.

"No..." He picked his jacket up off the floor, careful not to get his blood on it. The cupboard was open, empty. Ludwig was gone. He closed the cupboard and blinked away the tears, refusing to let himself cry.

These people, these monsters had stolen his brother, just because of who his parents were he would be killed, unless by some miracle their 'father' was able to save him. But even the leader of the revolution would not have enough power to save tiny Ludwig. No, the boy was too dangerous- as was he.

Voices outside. Soldiers, returning to their homeland, perhaps. If they were soldiers from Germany, his own country, he was as good as dead. Not all of their soldiers were happy with the revolution, and they all knew who he was and how dangerous it was for him to be left alive.

They walked past the church... Then doubled back and came in.

"He looks like..." One of the soldiers muttered something to the other, who nodded, stepped forward and grabbed Gilbert's arm.

Gilbert showed no emotion. These soldiers- they didn't look much like soldiers, more like ordinary men, such as the revolutionaries did. But they couldn't be revolutionaries... They weren't battered and bruised like the revolutionaries were. They were strange- almost diplomatic.

The man in front of him relaxed his grip, and sank to one knee, taking Gilbert's hand. "My name's Arthur, and he's Alfred." The other man waved and smiled, earning him a glare from the one called Arthur. "We're going to take you to the castle, ok?"

"What castle?"

The one called Alfred grinned. "Well, the Prussian castle, of course!"

-o-

Gilbert swallowed. This was the worst possible thing that could happen.

He was kneeling before the king of Prussia and of course, the question had come.

"What's your name, boy?"

He knew what the question was really asking. Are you the eldest son of the former king of Germany?

...Cause you sure as hell look like him.

"My name is- Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt."

-o-

The king had wanted him killed at first.

But the men from before protested. They stood up for him, and he wondered why. It would have been easier to let him die. They said how he was "just a boy" and "surely we could protect him from becoming what his father did!"

Eventually, the king nodded. He put the men in charge of Gilbert, but the king himself would be the one to formally adopt him. And of course, the whole thing had to stay a secret. The king, in the few moments that he talked with Gilbert, had taken a liking to him, and wanted to save him from what was going on in Gilbert's home country.

And so Gilbert gained a new home- and with it, a title.

Prince Gilbert, heir to the kingdom of Prussia.

-o-

Totally awesome author's note!

Hihi, it's me, Maura-chan, da?

In case you don't understand what's going on here..

SPOILER ALERT:

This stuff appears later on, and might be a bit of a spoiler for ya- but if you don't understand, read it. It's not very spoiler-y.. But it might be.

Prussia and Germany are neighboring kingdoms, kay?

Gilbert and Ludwig are the sons of the former king of Germany.

Their mother gave them to a man (their 'father', or the man they reference as their father) to take care of, because she knew their actual father (the king) was power-mad and there was going to be a revolution soon.

Their 'father' actually helped lead the revolution.

But most revolutionaries want the two children dead, as they have ties to the old ruler, blah blah, evil runs in the family.

SPOILER OVER

So yeah! Hope you like it!

I appreciate reviews and suggestions and stuff, kays?

I love reviews :3

Goodness, this stuff would never happen in real life. But whatevs, it's a FF. Deal with it, yo.

Peace, awesome, and tea~

Maura-chan