Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia

A/N: I am back my lovelies! I hope you haven't missed me too terribly much! But here is the next installment to my stories, as promised. The tale I wrote previously, but from Ludwig's point of view. Please, enjoy...

Ludwig clutched his backpack to his chest as the door behind him slammed shut with finality. He looked around, his face a mask of military precision. His room looked more like a prison cell than a bedroom. It was small and metal; the only things in it were a low cot and a pot, both residing in opposite corners. He gazed at the graffiti-ed walls, noticing with a small flicker of a smile that most of the words were in Gilbert's scrawl.

The German comforted him some as he sat on the bed slowly, letting the backpack fall into his lap. He sighed and began to unpack his few possessions. An extra shirt and pants, his toothbrush, a first aid kit, and… his picture. He looked into the frame sadly, running a finger over Feli's happy face.

He stood and set the photo under his pillow, not wanting Ivan to see it. He felt so guilty for the way he had left his little Italian… with nothing but a note. He hadn't had a choice. He was taken from their home in the middle of the night, given barely enough time to shove what he needed into his backpack.

He looked around sadly, his eyes starting to water at the thought of Feliciano. Of how distraught he must be… how devastated… He fell back onto his "bed," his head cradled in his hands as he tried his best not to cry.

He lived in the same small room for so long… one of the satellites brought him two meals every day, meager things. Sometimes they consisted of bread and soup, other days a hard piece of meat and cold coffee. Ludwig ate them slowly before exercising the rest of his time away. He had nothing better to do…

Every night, without fail, he would lay down and wait until he could hear absolutely nothing. Once he was sure that he was only one awake, he would reach under his pillow and pull his picture out. There were smudges on the glass from where he repeatedly touched Feliciano's figure, his heart beating a little faster as he sometimes let a tear escape.

And then his mind would always drift to the meeting he had with Ivan some weeks earlier…

"I want mein bruder!" Ludwig slammed angrily on the desk that separated him from the calm Russian, who just smiled.

"You mean you vant Gilbert?" Ludwig just growled in response which caused Ivan to laugh. "Alright, I vill give him to you. For a price, of course."

Ludwig sat back in his seat, glaring at the Russian. "Name your price."

"A nation for a nation, comrade. A nation for a nation." He smiled demonically at the strong nation, waiting for his response. Waiting for Ludwig to stand and sign the document that was suddenly laid on the desk before them by a shaking Latvia. Waiting for Ludwig to sign his name in his own blood.

And here Ludwig sat, a prisoner. Months passed before Ivan came. The first time they had seen each other since that fateful day. Ludwig was doing push ups when he heard his cell door crash open. He jumped up, his military practice automatically putting him into a defensive position. Ivan laughed at him.

"Like a frightened rabbit you are, Ludwig." The Russian walked in, his iron pipe in his hand. Ludwig tried to relax but found it difficult. Ivan's eyes looked like that of a predator, stalking his prey. "Perhaps vith good reason…"

Suddenly the iron pipe was knocking against the side of Ludwig's head with a speed he hadn't known possible. The German was on the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor. He looked up just in time to see a boot smash into his face, effectively breaking his nose.

He swore in German before the iron pipe was shoved into his mouth. "Such a dirty mouth you have…" Ivan knelt in front of Ludwig, who was still trying to get his wits about him. "I vill clean it out for you." The pipe was shoved abruptly further into Ludwig's mouth, causing him to gag and shudder before it was removed.

Ivan left hours later, leaving Ludwig a crumpled bloody mess on his cot. Ludwig stared at his ceiling, panting and putting his broken nose back into position with practiced ease. He panted, his lungs burning with every breath he drew in. With shaking fingers he pulled his picture out, smearing the glass with his own blood as he fell asleep staring at Feliciano's face.

Ivan came to him off and on to dole out his brutal beatings. Ludwig could barely defend himself, the lack of food affecting him too greatly. He would end up clutching his picture to his chest, hacking his way into a poor sleep.

And then suddenly, Ivan stopped coming. Ludwig watched his scars heal and his bruises become slightly yellow. He had no idea how long he had been in his cell… years maybe… or a few months. Who knew?

One day, a shaking Latvia brought a long black bag on a hanger, handing it silently to Ludwig before rushing out. He heard the lock click before viewing the strange object in his hands. He laid it on his bed and unzipped it. A tuxedo… why on earth was- There was a not attached to it.

Put it on.

Afraid to disobey whoever sent the note, Ludwig managed to pull the tuxedo on slowly, completely confused. He sat in the tuxedo for what seemed like hours before Ivan opened the door, dressed similarly. "Come, comrade. It is time for a field trip."

He turned and walked away, leaving the door open. Ludwig hesitated before following the intimidating nation. The rest of the journey seemed to pass in a blur. They took a taxi and a short plane ride and then another taxi again… the entire time Ivan kept informing Ludwig that he was to do nothing but obey him. To be a good boy. To be a good German.

Ludwig just stared out the window, letting Ivan's words mull in his brain. Good boy. Good German. Just like he had done in the Nazi regime…

A cathedral. They ended up in a cathedral. A beautiful cathedral. Ludwig followed Ivan like a lost child, looking around in wonder. Everything was so bright compared to his little cell…

"Ludwig!" He turned at the sound of his name, his eyes falling on his albino brother, struggling against America and Canada to reach him. He took a step towards his brother before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at Ivan, who was staring at him calmly.

He turned his back on the distraught nation and followed the larger country. They sat in a pew in the front. He looked around curiously. They… they were at a wedding. He felt glares pierce him and looked up at Spain who hurriedly looked away, talking to Francis.

He was at Romano's wedding. Suddenly, the music began and everyone stood. Ludwig whipped around, looking searching for a glimpse, anything… His Italian… He noticed that Russia still sat.

He fidgeted, looking for the real thing. His Feliciano… Finally, he came into view, limply allowing himself to be lead down the aisle by Romano. His Feli… His Feliciano. His darling… He looked so frail… so sick and pale… He had done that to his beloved. No… seeing Feli so pale and lifeless… this hurt more than anything. His fists gripped the pew in front of him tightly, his heart breaking for a second time. That's when he noticed Feli was going to sit right next to him…

Feli kissed his brother's cheek gently before handing him off to Antonio. His gaze immediately shot to the ground as he turned around and walked carefully to his seat. He didn't look up, didn't meet anyone's eyes. He sat down quietly, his hands clasped in his lap, his eyes staring at his shoes.

Ludwig's heart rate picked up. He couldn't focus on the service with the love of his life so close… He glanced at Ivan, who had fallen asleep. Or was he just pretending? He couldn't risk saying anything to his little Italian… to his warm, beautiful, funny, happy, loving- He pulled a pen and paper out of his pocket and jotted some words down, sliding it under Feli's hands.

Feli-

Need to talk to you. Meet me after the ceremony. It's important. Please.

-Ludwig

He watched the Italian read it over and over again… praying that he would just look up or say something or… anything. God, anything. Finally, Feliciano looked up and blue eyes met amber in a silent reunion. His breath hitched in his throat and he threw all of his desperation into his gaze. Please, please, say yes… He needed to tell him how much he loved the Italian.

He watched Feli nod slowly, his entire body almost collapsing in relief, he leaned forward as though to embrace the Italian but he was swept away by the newly weds, blue and amber eyes reuniting a last time in a last glance.

R&R if so inclined...