Thank you for reading my story. This story is about Russia/ Prussia. I really love this couple, so I tried to write a story for them. However, this is my first time to publish story here. I really hope that you can give comments after finishing reading.

"Too aching to breathe any word…"

Russia's lungs were too aching to breathe particularly when he saw the light-white-hair figure appeared at the dome of Reichtag.

No fear remained on his face but calmness, which was fused with emotional emptiness, the Nation of Knight stood on the edge of dome, and overlooked the whole Berlin, where was veiled by a layer of think, gray sorrow: this city was burnt to ashes by the brutality of powder and guns.

Although Prussia noticed Russia's coming, he did not turn his head back but just gazed at the wrecked city. However, those reddish eyes, which had used to gleam with vigor, were replaced by emptiness and lifelessness. His fare face, which had used to flush with the knight's pride and even sort of stupid arrogance, was filled with the pale weariness and numbness.

"Gilbert…" Russia managed to call Prussia's name but in vain. His throat was too burned to squeeze a sound.

Without a move, Russia just closed his amethyst eyes and tightly held his gun as if it could help him to prevent the strong feeling from devouring his mind. Nevertheless, only the dark reality slashed him coldly when the commander's order kept echoing in his brain restlessly:

"I command you, my comrade Russia," Georgy Zhukov, the mid-age the Commander of the first Belarussian Front Marshal of Soviet Union, cast a stern gaze to the Nation Russia, "to enter Berlin, secure the downtown, place the victory banner on the dorm of Reichtag, and" (1)

Zhukove took a deep breath as if he tried to show that he had consodered his words for times:"Then, shoot Prussia if necessary."

After finishing his announcement, the mid-age commander lowed his head to show his respect toward his beloved Nation. However, receiving the order from the serious Soviet Union commander, Russia was standing numbly and staring at Zhukov without any responses.

For Ivan Braginski himself, he did not care about the damn coming victory anymore. That was not his business after all. All he knew was that he was going to lose Prussia. Worse of all, he even could foretell a doomed future for the Nation of Knight: his name was going to be wiped out from human history forever and ever. How could he see it happen to Gilbert? How? How could he give up the man he had loved for several centuries, and then kill him with his own hands? How?

Ivan could not imagine the life without Gilbert Beilschmidt in those following centuries, years, days and even just a second.

"Too aching to breathe a word…"

Opening those violet eyes that was filled bitterness and confusion, Russia's clenched his fist that was holding the gun unconsciously. Then, all of sudden, Prussia broke the breathless silence:

"Hey, you finally come here, Russia." His tone sounded as if they were just in the bar and had a drink as before. But differently, the pair of rubies shone no more but only dreariness remained, "Maybe I should call you Soviet, should I? Comrade Braginski?" A weak jeer grinned on the Prussia's pale face. No reply to his provocation, a sudden anger gleaned in the pair of clear amethysts. Russia closed his eyes for managing to suppress his emotion into his deep heart.

"Perhaps it's much better burry such a feeling … I am not qualified to embrace love after all…as a Nation..." Widening his eyes, there was no emotional ripple but coldness.

Still, the cold-blooded nation as Ivan Braginski was.

"Kolukolukolu," an icy stiff sneer emerged on his face, "So, how about you, my comrade Prussia?" he walked toward Russia and continued his words in such a chilling sweet tone, "Are you happy with the death's coming, my dear Gilbert?" Russia came to Prussia's side, took out his weapon, aimed at to his temple and ready to , the gun in his hands seemed too heavy to trigger.

Notwithstanding the danger was going to process Prussia, no dread rippled on his pale face. Not turning his head to Russia; instead, his reddish eyes were fixed to the yonder side of gray sky.

"Please keep my only pride as a knight at least." Prussia had made his mind to face his fate.

Holding the weapon, Russia could not help but tremble with fear- that result from being afraid of losing the one he beloved. Such kind of fear kept slashing and tearing his mind.

Immediately, a sudden fierce power forced Prussia to fall down on the ground, and then here came a punch on his face. Raising his head up, the pair of amethysts was blazing with freezing fury, and such a kind of icy wrath almost hardly made him breathe.

"Don't you really know the consequence?" Russia seized Prussia by his collar with one hand, and bawled with a crying sound, "Once I shoot the fire, it means not only the man Gilbert Beilschmidt is going to disappear from the world but also the name Prussia is going to be wiped out from human history." Russia's voice was cracked with grief and wrath, "That is, you're not alive anymore, Gilbert Beilschmidt. NOT ALIVE ANY MORE!" Russia desperately shook Prussia as if he considered that it would change the stubborn knight's mind.

A teardrop shed across Russia's cheek in silence.

"At least I don't live in vain, do I?" Softening his hard voice, Prussia gently touched Russia's cheeks and leaned to kiss off his tear. "Particularly I meet you, not as the nation of Russia but as the man Ivan Braginski." All of sudden, an unknown severe pain was striking Prussia's head and bodies. Next, such a killing pain also was going to seized his heart and lungs. Although there was no evident physical injury on his appearance, he still could sense that all his faculties of body were going to collapse. Prussia knew that there was no time left. His life was going to end.

"Fire your gun, and take my life away, in the name of Soviet." Prussia tightly held Russia's trembling hands. Those reddish eyes were shining with peace and resolution.

"I can't do this. I CAN'T DO THIS. ARE YOU SATIFIED WITH THAT! GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT!" Russia desperately yelled at Prussia, and gave several punches on Prussia's face for relieving the pain caused by his inner struggling.

"You are such a selfish bastard!" Prussia firstly spewed blood in his mouth, and gave a strong hit on Russia, "Before the name Ivan Braginski, you must be the Nation Russia; before the name Gilbert Beilschmidt, I must be the Nation Prussia."

All of sudden, Russia felt dizzy as he heard Prussia's words.

"If," Ignoring Russia's reaction, Prussia bitterly continued what he tried to explain, "human's original sin is from Adam and Eva, then that is our original sin as a nation." A sob welled up in Prussia's throat, "We aren't allowed to love or be loved even though we can sense all kinds of feelings just like the ordinary do."

All of Prussia's words shattered in to several pieces and deeply stabbed into Russia's heart.

"Too aching to breathe any word…"

"Now, it is the time for you to choose what kind of future you want!" Prussia said weakly but seriously, "If you want to end the war, you're gonna kill me, and then you can become a hero. If not, then people will look down on you. Never forget we stand for the will as a nation rather than a man."

"Shut up! I don't want to hear…" Suddenly, Prussia leaned to let his lips touched Russia's and kissed in an awkward way.

"Ivan, you know what." Prussia's hand mildly wiped tears out from Russia's face, and he also sensed that the pain in his body had totally wrung his little energy dry, "Tiredness overcomes me…I'm so tired…that…" Then Prussia lifted another hand to hold the gun that was taken by Russia, and Prussia's eyes were shining with its reddish light. Next sec, Russia understood what Prussia tried to do next; however, his limbs were too dull to react.

It was too late...

"Sorry for loving you."

Blood immediately dyed the grey sky.

"Farewell, Ivan."

Then, rubies shone no more.

Resource:

(1) George Zhukov: wiki/Georgy_Zhukov

Victory Banner: wiki/Victory_Banner