"Germany."

It was the one word the blonde hated the most—but also the word he had been longing to say for so long. Rain had turned the battlefield into nothing more than a muddy playground, but it hadn't been able to erase the blood that was coating everything. Bodies lay broken, face down in the mud, their eyes clouded over by death. Some were missing body parts; some…couldn't even be identified. Those who couldn't be named immediately would end up being just a number, another casualty. Their dog tag would be sent home if they had a family, and as time passed on, they would be forgotten.

Everyone and everything was always forgotten. There was no such thing as friendship, as loyalty, the American thought as he held his gun to the temple of the other blonde, his fingers itching to pull the trigger. The man wasn't even looking at him! He was down on his knees, not bound by anything aside from the fact he was completely defenseless and soaking wet, and he didn't even have the guts to look his opponent in the eyes. It was pathetic, so why couldn't he pull the trigger and end it already? This is what he had wanted…

"Germany," he tried again, voice as hard as his eyes. There was no warmth in those usually dancing blue eyes, his expression tight. Still though, the man didn't look up. Narrowing his eyes, oblivious to the blood that was streaked across his face, Alfred nudged the gun against the man's temple, watching as it caught on the skin, tearing it open. Blood flickered down and landed on the barrel of the revolver, but there was still no response from the other man. "Did he really make you this pathetic?" The blonde growled as thunder crashed beside him, lightening flashing and cracking for a moment.

"Are you really going to just sit there and let me pull the trigger?" He shouted over the thunder, a sort of desperation in his voice. "Are you really that spineless? That weak?"

There was no response from the man below him, his head only seemed to hang further, his once proud shoulders slumping just a little bit more. This wasn't the man he had once known, Alfred thought in revulsion, this was…he didn't even know what this was. Killing him would be a mercy. It would be doing him a favor. And after everything that had happened, he didn't want to do him any favors.

Mouth twisting into a rueful smile, a sort of laugh escaped the blonde as he took a step back, breathing hard as the wind buffeted him for a moment. "I don't even know who you are anymore," he said, voice hoarse. Crouching down, he grabbed the blonde's jaw, forcing his head up, and their eyes meeting for the first time that night. "I'm not going to kill you tonight," he said quietly, looking for any sort of emotion in those eyes he had come to know so well. Before…no, he wasn't going to go down that path again. "Because killing you would be doing you a favor, and after everything you've done to me, you don't deserve a favor."

"America…Alfred," Ludwig said finally, his eyes flashing with pain, though he still made no move to pull out of the American's grip. "I…I'm sorry," he said, staring into the cold eyes above him, wishing that there was something in there to indicate the American was alright…that he was going to be alright anyway.

"You're sorry," Alfred muttered, a sharp laugh escaping him as he shook his head, releasing the German and patting him on the cheek. "You're sorry. Well, you know what Germany?" He wasn't calling him by his human name: that would indicate there was some sort of familiarity between them, "it's a little but too late for that. After all the shit you put me through, after what just happened here, I'm sorry just isn't going to cut it. You're welcome for not killing you, I hope you suffer. I hope you live in misery," voice growing lower, it felt as though his emotions were out of control. Like the crashing of the storm, and at the moment, Alfred wasn't certain what was rain and what was tears. "So I hope you're happy with your choices, Germany, because I'm not coming back. We could have had something good, but you left. And look at what happened!" He paused and gestured to the bloody battlefield behind them, laughing just slightly.

"He left you! When you needed to call upon his strength, he left you! That's what you get for trusting an Italian though, they're spineless," the last word was nothing short of a sneer, the blue eyes flashing with some sort of amusement. "Spineless, worthless, they're not even a fraction of what I am. Yet," he paused for a moment, feeling as though he was going to be sick, "Yet, you still chose him over me. You abandoned me for him, without even giving me a reason why."

"It's not like that!" Ludwig argued, eyes widening as he stared up at the American, making a move as if he was going to finally get to his feet.

Abruptly, Alfred shoved him down again, eyes flashing dangerously. "Stay on your knees," he whispered, before turning his back on the other nation, fingers still caressing the trigger of his revolver. "I want you down there like the dog you are. You belong with the filth." He took a step forward, before calling over his shoulder, voice suddenly surprisingly cheery, almost as if he had found a light at the end of the tunnel.

"I never would have abandoned you, Germany. I said I would protect you as long as we were together, and a hero is only as good as he words." For a moment, he shrugged, as if this was a fact that couldn't be helped, glancing back with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"You abandoned me though. I hope you're ready for war. Because next time we meet like this, I won't hesitate to pull the trigger." With those words of warning, Alfred walked away, leaving the German with only the bodies of the dead for company.