Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or any of the characters in this story. I'm not making any money off of this, and It was written due to entertainment purposes only.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I declare war,

What will you do?

Gilbert gasped, trying in vain to catch his breath as the crusting blood partly obscured his vision. He ran with his sword in front of him, giving blind strikes in a futile attempt to create a path for him in the midst of the war. Fresh blood ran down his forehead as a spearhead glinted near his face and he cursed, stumbling on the irregular terrain. Ignoring the bodies of both men and horses underfoot and the terrified, agonising screams as they were cut down, he ran and ran, wishing that he wasn't immortal; hoping that this was a dream and the nights of terror he anticipated wouldn't arrive. He was dragged out of his desperate thoughts by a familiar voice he had once treasured hearing. But not now. Not ever again.

''Hallo bruder.''

The roses are wilted,

The violets are dead,

When you betrayed me

My broken heart bled.

'Bruder.'' Gilbert's voice was hoarse and scratchy, and he coughed at the friction caused by chalky air in his throat. He leaned wearily on his sword, eyes darting in the thick, dust filled air, expecting an attack; a trick. His brother was ingenious, but he had never expected to be betrayed by him, even when he knew of Ludwig's irrefutable need- no, lust, for power.

''Vhy did you betray me, West?'' he asked weakly. The words sounded pathetic even to Gilbert's own ears.

''Betray you?!'' Ludwig repeated incredulously. Something dark flashed behind his eyes. ''I, betray you?! Roderich, come here, bitte.''

Gilbert's cousin Roderich materialised from the dense rifle smoke. The aristocrat glared at Gilbert and assumed his station aside Germany.

''Guten tag Prussia.'' He sneered. ''and don't expect an ambush. Ve vill deal with this, ah, 'personal' matter ourselves.''

''Ja.'' Ludwig added, '' And ve vould not do so to a dying man.''

''Dying?'' Gilbert spluttered. With a haughty pride unsuited for his current situation he began to scoff ''I am not dying-'', only to be cut off by a fit of coughs that brought the bitter metallic tang of blood to his mouth.

''Ja, ja,'' Roderich said dismissively, raising an eyebrow.

With a grimace Ludwig exchanged a look with Roderich, and taking hold of Gilbert's arms, dragged him with them to their trench. With near silent groans, Prussia dug his nails into his marred flesh as each explosion reduced the Prussian Empire to rubble.

The sky was black,

The ground was red,

An albino despaired,

Awaiting death.