It was a horrible sight.

It almost seemed like the corpses of the fallen men would reach the horizon, but none of them made the man who dashed through the battlefield stop. Red eyes bustled from side to side; white hair flew in the opposing wind.
His name was Prussia.

Great Prussia.

Mighty Prussia.

Terrified Prussia.

Because it weren't his men who lost their lives.
Prussia came to a sudden halt. Right in between disaster and decay laid a young boy, covered in torn clothes, soaked in blood.

Prussia gulped.

Here, bleeding and broken, laid the form of his little brother, Holy Roman Empire.
He picked him up carefully, trying to notice any life signs. A small moan made him exhale a breath he didn't know he was holding.

'He won't survive much longer.'

Prussia whirled around, keeping a strong hold on Holy Rome with one arm while holding a sword in the other hand. Yet the other man only raised an eyebrow.

'You should do something against that paranoia of yours. One day you are going to hurt someone, most likely yourself.'

Prussia snorted, but sheathed his sword and secured his hold on the boy.

'Austria, finally showing yourself again, eh? And what the heck do you mean by 'he won't survive much longer'? Bullshit, he is tough, he is MY brother after all!'

The Austrian adjusted his glasses and glanced at the burned fields.

'Didn't you hear? The Holy Roman Empire doesn't exist any longer. It's just a matter of time before the boy dies.'

Author's Note:

Mmmmmmph~ my fist story! I am so excited :D btw, english isn't my first language, I hope you still understand what the hell I am writing xD

And of course, Hetalia doesn't belong to me ^^