AN: Hi there! So this plot bunny has been bothering me for a while. Don't know how good this is, and I may re-write this chapter, but I wanted to post it. HRE's name is Hartwig, meaning, "brave in battle". This first chapter is sort of a forward to the actual story.

The scent of sweat and putrefying flesh tainted the air, but a white-haired youth ignored it. He surveyed the battlefield with his shockingly red eyes in hopes of finding someone important. This last battle had been completely crushing. Though things had been falling apart before, nothing had ever been as devastating as this. Corpses had been abandoned as both sides fled the scene; though Gilbert knew finding the body he was looking for was unlikely. The enemy had probably taken the body to parade it about the streets in glee. Regardless, Gilbert continued searching for his brother's corpse, determined to bring it home for a proper funeral.

Gilbert froze as he saw a small figure lying quite separate from the rest of the bodies on the ground. The young man, dressed in the finest of battle-wear, could only be his brother, Hartwig. It appeared he was still breathing, but only just. The albino boy hurried towards his brother and fell to the ground beside him. Gilbert's eyes widened as he realized the extent of Hartwig's injuries. Blood oozed out of a long slash from his brother's shoulder to hip. Francis was the only one who could have delivered such a terrible blow. Gilbert shuddered as he imagined Hartwig staring at the mad Frenchman's blade before it sank into his flesh. There was no way Hartwig could survived such a wound in his already weakened state. He was dying a long and painful death.

Gilbert forced himself not to cry as he pulled Hartwig's head onto his lap. Hartwig's eyes stared off into the distance as he whimpered in pain. Suddenly, blue eyes found red eyes as Hartwig focused on his brother. Both realized Hartwig was running out of time.

"Bruder… you found me," said Hartwig, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"Of course I did, Hartwig!" Replied Gilbert.

"Chibitalia. I want to see Chibitalia," sobbed the blonde boy. It had been such a long time since Hartwig had seen his childhood love. He wished he could touch her soft brown hair again. He wished he could say goodbye again.

"You'll see Chibitalia soon, bruder," Gilbert murmured. Though he was slightly irritated that his presence wasn't enough to properly comfort his brother, he'd say anything at this point to ease his brother's passing.

"I miss her. I miss her so much. I shouldn't have gone to war. I shouldn't have left her," Hartwig continued to cry.

"Shh. Shh, Hartwig. In Heaven, you'll see Chibitalia, or a form of her at least. She'll be smiling and laughing or something…" babbled Gilbert, not really making any sense to himself anymore.

"Gilbert… Tell Chibitalia I loved her. That I really loved her. Chibitalia…"

Hartwig's eyes slowly began to close as a final tear slid out of his eye and landed on Gilbert's shirt. His heart thudded irregularly a few times before it finally gave up. A loud silence filled the battlefield as Gilbert bent to kiss his brother's forehead. Normally proud and strong Gilbert was surprised to find himself breaking down as his lips lingered on Hartwig's still-warm forehead. Though Gilbert was no stranger to violence and death, this was different. It was a different sort of pain. Eventually, one of Gilbert's attendants found him clutching Hartwig's body and managed to get him up. The body was quickly taken out of the battlefield so Francis' troops wouldn't notice.

It was no surprise to Gilbert that transporting his brother's body back in time for a respectable funeral was impossible. It was still somewhat devastating, though. Instead, Hartwig's body was to be cremated. Gilbert made sure his brother was dressed in his best clothes and all grime was cleaned off his body. It may have been pointless as the body was going to be reduced to ashes, but Gilbert knew that is what his brother would have wanted. Gilbert's attendants wisely forced him to stay in his tent during the cremation, and brought him the ashes later in a beautiful urn. Gilbert held the urn for a long time, barely comprehending that his brother had literally been reduced to ashes. Hartwig had never been strong, really, but it was hard to believe he was gone.