It was early winter in the heart of the Holy Roman Empire. They were holding a ball in Berlin, though the Emperor was in near refusal. But it was to celebrate his youngest son's birthday. Ludwig was turning ten today, Christmas. The boy in question was on the floor dancing with their little sister. The older boys couldn't help but laugh about how stiff Ludwig's movements were. He just didn't want to step on poor Lilli's feet.
While everyone was watching the youngest prince, a small girl with auburn hair and a curl on the left side of her head watched as well, her older sister snacking on a tomato. Granted, the fruit wasn't the freshest. The shipment had to come all the way from Spain. "I don't see what makes this prince any different from his brothers," the older Italian remarked. "C'mon, Sorella, we need to get back to the kitchen." With that, she began dragging the girl after her.
The torch lights began flickering before going completely out. At the end of the room stood a man with platinum blond hair with glowing violet eyes. Vash and Roderich ran to Lilli and Feliks while Gilbert stood in front of Alice and Ludwig. Alaric held a protective arm out in front his wife so she wouldn't run to her children out of fear. "Ivan. Why are you here?" the Emperor demanded of the Russian.
"Why I no get invite? I thought this was for everybody, da?" Alice trembled in fear, sensing the newcomer's dark, glowing aura. She was the only one who could.
"You know why you weren't invited. You use dark magic and place terrible curses on those who get in your way. I won't allow it. Now begone, demon. And don't bother mein family again."
Ivan's face became slightly distorted into a sickening smile. "I will. Da, I will. But I warn you, if I leave, it no be pretty. I will love seeing your faces as you all die. One by one. I will get you all. If not now, then someday, da?" With that, the Russian turned to leave. "Maybe I start with that precious prince?"
Gilbert, as the oldest and protective older brother he was, wrapped an arm around his baby brother and held him close to his side. No. Not his West. Not West. Anyone but West. He was oldest. It should be him. He was 16, dammit! It should be him!
"Bruder?" Gott, that sweet face. What was wrong with that crazy Russian, anyway? How could that guy be okay with taking away this sweet little boy?
"I-it's okay, West. He's gone. I won't let him touch you. None of you."
"Bruder? I don't understand." Neither did he. Neither did he, West.
A year later, their father had fallen in battle, their mother becoming very ill afterwords. The empire was falling, ever since they lost in the fight against France. They were without an emperor and they could see the end of the Holy Roman Empire near. Seems Ivan was getting his wish.