Series: Axis Powers Hetalia
Pairing: GerIta & PruIta, and Frying Pangle if you squint really hard.
Rating: T for violence & Death.
Summary: Ludwig's experiences in the battle of Leningrad in January of 1944. (Not completely accurate, but I'm trying! Please correct me if I'm wrong! :^D) *Also! If you read It's all over, this is what happens to Ludwig. This is like, his story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, and like hell I own the history of WW2.
Cold. It was ridiculously cold. The ink from his ink pot was frozen solid-hard as rocks. Useless. Just like fighting in the cold with a small army. Russian winters where ridiculously cold, no doubt about that. He was just glad pencils required no ink and didn't freeze like half of the crap in this damn wasteland.
He was keeping a little journal as his older brother asked, for his brother could not write. Feliciano, his friend a couple of camps back, also had trouble writing, but merely painted and sketched little scenes when they rested. The last time they'd seen each other, 161 days back in...he honestly didn't rememeber. All he remembered that he left Italy in a building and hoped to God above he was all right. The "ex-Teutonic Knight" (As he called himself) sat beside Ludwig, munching on some rations he'd recieved.
"You writing in that journal like I asked?" Giblert poked his younger brother.
Ludwig merely nodded. "Ja."
No one spoke for a couple of minutes, before Gilbert set down his bowl and re-adjusted his helmet. "You know, if you ever see that Feli kid-"
"Feliciano Vargas."
"Huh?"
"His name is Feliciano Vargas Gilbert, not 'that Feli-kid'."
"Well. either way, if you ever do, you'll have to invite him back home for dinner, we can be old war buddies!" He laughed quietly.
"Ja, I suppose we will."
"So uh-"
Ludwig closed the journal, and stood up. "Come on, we're due for marching."
Gilbert looked up at his brother. "Why?" He asked. "We already lost Stalingrad, and the Allied forces are kicking our butts. We're spread too thin. It's time to throw in the towel now while we still can. The Russians are undeafeatable in this cold. We'll die instantaniously."
"It's all for the fuhrer Gilbert, remember that."
He pulled Ludwig up to his face by his collar. "Don't you see he is wrong?" He hissed. "If he had his way, you'd be dead too! I see the way you look at Feliciano!"
Ludwig's eyes grew wide. "N-nein! He, he has nothing to do with me! He is just a friend."
"Oh hush little brother. I can't read or write, but I'm no idiot. I'm going to surrender in this battle. It's the only way I feel I will live."
Ludwig stood dumbfounded. Both had joined the war effort at 16 back in 1940, and never once had he heard Gilbert care about his life over Hitler's cause.
"We're greatly outnumbered Ludwig, I think it's time. We can give up, the Soviets take Prisoners of War."
"No."
"No?"
"I will fight, even if I die."
Gilbert frowned, obviously giving up on his argument. "Fine, but...if I do die, and you live, give my tags to Roderich and Elizabeth back home. They're in Budapest."
"And if I die, find Feliciano, and give him mine."
They held out their hands for a shake, and a promise unfortunately one would have to keep.
"Time to head out!" Someone yelled. Men left to stand up and pull on their packs, re-wrapping their scarfs around their faces, before placing their helmets above their heads, and walking away from camp.
It had been hours since they left camp. There was a light blizzard, and in all honesty, Ludwig couldn't even see Gilbert next to him. In seconds, he heard screaming. Men lowered themselves to the ground and blood flew back at them.
"Soviets!" Someone screamed from the front, before a bloodied "Ack!" was heard through the snow fields.
"Ludwig, they're coming from the snow! Don't go forward and watch where you crawl." Gilbert mumbled, remembering an old war tactic from World War One an old Prussian soldier had told him.
"Then we move forward!" He rushed forward, his rifle and pistol in hand towards a silver-haired Soviet.
"Ich-Ich Kapitulation!" He shouted, his pistol frozen from the cold.
"Neve-ugh!" A bullet rang through the air, hitting Ludwig straight through the chest, above his heart. He lay in the snow, bleeding.
"Uh, Are you okay?" the Soviet boy asked, obviously seeing past the fact that Ludwig was bleeding.
"What is your name?"
"I-Ivan Braginski."
"Please," He paused, taking the tags from his neck and placing them in the boys hand. "Survive. And give these to Feliciano Vargas. He lives in Milan." He grunted in pain. The boy's face was absolutely saddening. "Please, I beg you."
"I-" He looked at the tags, and back at the German. "Ludwig Beilschmidt." He recited. "I promise."
Ludwig smiled, as a bomb went off a couple metres away, he shooed Ivan off back, towards his soldiers. "Feliciano, I'm sorry I had to break our promise."
Ivan looked back one more time, before taking the man's rifle and running forward.
Characters post-war:
Gilbert did in fact get captured by the Soviets, and was released much later in 1955. He was re-united with Roderich and Elizabeth. He died in 1960 in a car crash with his two friends, all at the age of 36, coming home from a cinema showing on his birthday.
Feliciano returned home with Ludwig's tags, finding them via help of a blonde, Soviet soldier named Ivan, who he became friends with. He and Romano lived together, neither marrying until their death of old age in 1992. They died in their house in Milan in their sleep.
Ivan died in the Cold War approximately 1975, and was buried in Milan, where he had asked. His tags, like Ludwig's, went to Feliciano.
Ludwig's body was never found.
Authors Note: (Yeah, so if you couldn't tell, Luddy is all like, dead and stuff.) And if you couldn't tell, I am a huge fan of RusIta, which gave Ivan's point int he story. (But, I kind of felt, wait, if Feli loves Ludwig, let's keep him with Ludwig's memory, and have Ivan help Ludwig's tags home). I chose Milan because it was north in Italy, and I don't know if there are any cemetaries in Venice x'D Anywho, even though it's kind of a sad type of fanfiction, I hope you enjoyed. :)
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