Since I have a lot of inspiration for writing right now, I decided to put it to use by creating something that I wanted to make for a little while now. (Not to mention that I've been inactive)

Focused around Germany and Italy as they gather for the funeral of the one we never wanted to believe could die. One-shot, fluff, drama, grief, and death.

WARNINGS:

Slight depression.

GerIta (meaning a gay couple- don't like, don't click!).

Character death.

Standard disclaimers apply.

Echoes.

They were surrounding the man's presence, taking after each sound that escaped him.

Cries.

They broke from him, spraining his lungs, forcing to close his eyes to prevent the tides of the tears which should never have been shed.

Cold.

The wind was shaking him, almost pushing him to his knees as he cried, weakened by the worst harm one would experience in a lifetime.

Pain.

But his life was already extended so much further than any other human's, he though he knew pain.

Torn.

He didn't know pain up until then, truly, as the searing blades of grief tore away at his heart and shred the whiteness from his soul.

Bleak.

He felt awful, his skin frosted over, insides wrenching at the bleak, frozen rain.

Empty.

The man felt completely ragged, filled with so much distress, yet he knew he was empty.

Open.

His emotions stole the stoic expression he usually kept behind his steel blue eyes, yet now where he stood, he was open to the world of cruelty.

"Ludwig..."

The blonde flinched at the sound of his name, the carrier of the voice was too innocent, harmless to be exposed to such awful constraint. So much time had passed, and he'd grown to want to protect his companion, by such feelings he wouldn't admit so easily... But now he, such a strong figure, needed protection.

"Ludwig I-"

"It wasn't your fault." Germany gently cut off Feliciano, inhaling deeply and forcing his eyes to flicker open and spot the auburn-haired nation. His amber eyes were glassy as they went from Ludwig to the stone, embedded in the bitter terrain. Germany tensed another time, the damned stone...

It could seem rather normal at first, its surface chilled, ragged and grey. But it was different, the edges had been smoothed out at the corners, but the most terrifying...

Letters were engraved on one side of the semi-flat rock, spelling out what Germany never wanted to see in his life.

In the memory of the most awesome man, Gilbert Beilshmidt. You shalt be remembered by us all as part of the World, forever a nation.

Why must it have been him? Didn't he, Germany, deserve his fall more than his brother for all the pain, deaths, and war he caused? He stared at his hands, late at his sides. It should have been him to die. His brother should have lived, to continue to light up rooms, wether by annoying the people even just to make them smirk and smile a bit, or just by lighting their days up. If I never unified with him... Wouldn't he still be alive?

The realization hit the German, similar to a strike of blinding lighting.

"If I never had unified with him, he would still be alive.." He muttered his thoughts aloud without taking notice. He didn't see Feliciano's head snap up and his face fill with horror. "No, Germany! You can't blame yourself for this!"

Ludwig lifted his head a little, looking over the Italian. He held back from another crash of grief as he spoke, softly: "It should have been me, I deserved it more than he did." The German looked back to the tombstone, the raw pain returning to his heart. "He had more right to live than I ever did.." He felt his voice falter, quickly dissipating as the agony recurred to him. Italy was shaking, tears forming from the corners of his once-shining eyes. He appeared to want to speak, but his mouth opened without a sound, unlike the echoes created by the constant sobbing behind the both of them.

So many other nations had arrived to grieve for Prussia's death, almost too many to list. Namely Francis and Antonio, the Prussian's best friends, were there, their eyes dull as they stood shoulder-to-shoulder and attempted to keep back the rush of teardrops that threatened to come every moment. Austria was not too far from Germany himself, his expression was nearly blank- as if he was trying to process it all. Hungary was next to him, her head lowered. It was only a small handful, heck, even Canada, who claimed that Prussia was a very good friend of his, was there with somber written all over him.

Germany tore his gaze from his brother's grave and glanced over to Austria as he stepped forwards, his air solemn and grave. "If you never unified with him, things would be much too different from what they are now." He took a large breath, but it was almost silent. "If the scenario was the other way around, per say you unified with Prussia... Where would you be to protect Italy?" Roderick levelled his tone out, trying to stop Feliciano from catching his words. Germany stared at his ally, blinking ever so slowly.

He sighed, shutting his eyes. He didn't want to deal with this, not now, not ever. Although it was presumed that it was possible for Gilbert to die, Germany never wanted to believe it. Yet the truth was here, cold, merciless, and unforgiving. Truth took the lives of the ones who did not wholly deserve it, tearing them from the World eternally. Germany felt his body shiver awfully as his despair clawed its way to him again. He lowered his head and hunched his shoulders. He'd been taught to grow accustomed to people dying, yet... It was impossible.

The German stiffened as he felt two arms weave their way around his sides and a body press itself against his back. He turned his head to see Italy, holding onto him tightly, as if he were to disappear, just like his brother... "If... If you had died, I d-don't know where I w-would be, Ludwig." He cried delicately into Germany's back. His breath hitched as a small pink dusting appeared over his cheeks.

If I had died, where would Feliciano be?

He quickly noticed that Austria was inclining his head, seemingly agreeing to what Italy murmured. Ludwig felt the small sting of tears rise back to his eyes, and he swiftly turned around and trapped Feliciano in a tight embrace and buried his face into the soft, auburn hair. He momentarily felt the Italian jerk in surprise, but easily sank into his astoundingly close friend-the only truth being that they both knew that they couldn't deal with this alone. It had to be together, or else the certainty of one of them joining Prussia in the starry ranks above would increase, deeply.

"Non possiamo farlo da soli, in Germania. Ho bisogno di te, amore." Italy muttered gently, quiet enough for only the German to be able to hear. Germany caressed his hair, slowly, and whispered: "Du hast recht, und Sie werden immer meine Liebe sein. Wir müssen dies gemeinsam tun , für Preußen."

As they stood, forms almost as one, they understood, that now if they wanted to honour the German's brother, they would have to be in each other's presence.

Cheesy, I know, but hey, whatever~... I don't entirely hate it, so hopefully everyone else will feel the same.

Translations:

Italy's line: We can not do it alone , Germany. I need you, Love.

Germany's line: You're right , and you always will be my love . We must do this together , for Prussia .

Enjoy the fluff-ish sad stuff!