Forgotten
A/N: Based on a poem I wrote. Please check it out and some of my other Hetalia stories/poems in my profile. I really like Prussia. He's so awesome, bro! Haha. Anyway, so please check him out and maybe the song 'cause it's so much like Prussia, dawg!
Disclaimer: Hikari doesn't own or claim to own Hetalia or its characters or the song used below.
Warnings: Blood, mentions of violence and yaoi, AU Iron Curtain, and character death.
A reason, a victim,
A shadow vacant in the sky.
You yearn for what's missing,
Your power hidden in the night.
An angel or demon, (or demon!)
Your Gods you prayed on lonesome nights.
The damage, inflicted,
The pain in us they leave behind.
Never give in,
Never back down,
Never give in!
We're soldiers, instinctive,
We can bring change before we die.
Through tails of the demons,
To feel what lies beneath our eyes.
Never give in,
Never back down,
Never give in,
Never back down,
When your life feels lost,
(Fight against all odds!)
Never give in,
(Never back down!).
Never give in,
Never back down,
Never give in,
Never back down,
When your life feels lost,
(Fight against all odds!)
Never give in,
(Never back down!).
Lyrics to Never Give In by Black Veil Brides
Snow hailed from the angry clouds above, pelting down on the icy world below. Everywhere near and far was covered in a thick white blanket of snow. Any creature with a brain was huddled in its house or den, trying to keep warm. However, a long figure had been trying to escape their imprisonment and had gotten stuck in the storm.
The figure was a thin man. His cheekbones stood out too prominently, casting shadows across his pale face, and each rib could be seen. Each once muscular limb was now just skin wrapped tightly over bone. His clothing was threadbare, hardly offering any defense to the cold weather.
A sharp wind blew across the barren land and whipped his hair off of his white face. Almost everything about him was either white or red. The mans eyes narrowed against the wind and he kept pushing on. He would not give in to the weather. He would take it for he had endured much more in his torment. A little weather wasn't going to stop him even though he was just barely a walking skeleton.
Tripping over one of his feet, the man lost his unsteady balance and collapsed unable to get up. The man tried to get to his feet but all the energy was sucked away by the snow. He eventually gave up, resigning to lying for a quick rest before trying again.
Little to know he would never get up again.
Harsh coughs wracked the fading countries body. Scarlet dotted the snow, dripping from his mouth. His chest rose and fell weakly, each breath taking more and more effort. The man refused to believe that it was the end. He would fight to the end, against all odds.
Gilbert Bielschmidt, the country of Prussia, was fading. Fast.
He had lived under Russia's rule for a long time. He had lost count of all the bleak days. He stared at the wall, a constant reminder of how fall he had fallen; no longer being the legendary country he had once been, unable to fight his Russian oppressor and relying on his brother to save him. He waited for his little bruder to come and save him; bust down the walks, pull him to him and banish all the pain and weakness.
But his bruder never came. Gilbert tried to ignore the thought, focusing on ways to get at the Russian by hiding his scarf or sneaking food. Every time the Russian would beat him or force him to become one with him. Gilbert's physical body became weaker and weaker. His pale skin was a blank canvas in the Russian's eyes, and blood and bruises were the paint.
Under the Russian's 'care' his health deteriorated. He plummeted down to the bottom of the food chain yet he always smirked and laughed obnoxiously, refusing to satisfy the Russian.
Gilbert had lived a hard life. He didn't want to die miserable and under someone else's control. He wanted to be himself and be remembered for being the over egotistical, stubborn man that everyone knew him to be. He would die with a smirk on his face and his eyes wide open, to let the Russian know he was always watching him and that he never would obey him.
A sharp pain nearly caused him to scream in pain. White, fiery pain licked at his chest, spreading throughout his body. Something was happening within his country. It was unlike anything he had felt before. The pain was many times worse then anything he had felt before.
His legs curled up to his chest. Make the pain go away, make the pain go away. I must press on!
Alone in the bleak snow, Prussia wasn't ready to die. He wanted to get out of the snow, General Winter wouldn't kill him. By nation standards, he was still young. The thought of dying and satisfying Russia infuriated him! He would not die here in a God forsaken ice land.
Pushing himself up, pain flashed through him and the next thing he knew, he was on the ground again, completely numb and immobile. He could only move his fingertips, pupils and mouth. And still, Gilbert refused to accept death. He closed his eyes, thankful that the pain was gone. He thought of happier memories, wanting to wait until he could move again. He thought of when he found Ludwig and raised him, drinking with his friends, irritating Roderick, and going out with his girlfriend and childhood friend, Elizabetha.
A sudden thought struck him, leaving him feeling winded as though he had been punched in the gut. He had all these wonderful memories of his friends but where were any of them? Surely they knew where he was. Why hadn't they come to save him when he had been with the commie? Why didn't they come and search through the frozen snow? Did they even care that he was dying frozen and alone?
His brother, friends and girlfriend was just going to let him die, be covered in snow so they wouldn't have to waste the time to bury him. They probably had already forgotten about Gilbert. After all, he had constantly bothered them when he was both sober and drunk. He wasn't much of a brother, a jerk of a boy friend and one of those people that only had friends because the 'friends' felt bad for them.
Did their memories together not mean anything? Had his entire life been a lie built on fake love? Would anyone even mourn his death?
For the first time in his life, Gilbert Bielschmidt gave in. He closed his scarlet eyes from the world and didn't try to fight the inevitable.
His skin was blue by now and his breathing was wispy. He had stopped shivering a while ago, so close to being gone that he couldn't feel the cold. He almost wished he could feel something other then the pain of being abandoned and the morbid knowledge of knowing his end was near, stalking him from around the corner.
He wondered for the first time where countries that had disappeared went. Would he be welcomed there or would he be shunned because he had been so oblivious and such a screw up?
He drew a weak breath, hearing it in his head. His heart beat fragilely, still fighting against the pull of death. His chest barely rose anymore. All his dreams of wanting to die with a smirk and wide eyes were forgotten, just like he had been. What was the point anymore? To remind the others of how naïve he had been? That is if they even found him. The snow would conceal his body at least until the snow melted. Then hungry animals would feed on him.
There was a pressure on his arm, almost yanking him back to the world he was leaving behind. He didn't have enough strength to even wonder what it was. It was warm and was the only thing he could feel on his body. It almost tempted him back but his mind was made up. There was no point in staying in a world where he wasn't wanted. There was nothing awesome about being alone anymore. He didn't want to be alone. He wanted his little brother to hold him close, brush his white hair and tell him everything would be ok and that everyone was looking for him. He wanted to see the joy on Elizabetha's face when he walked up to her. He wanted to pull her into a heartfelt embrace and tell her how much he cared about her. But that wouldn't happen.
He let himself slip away. His mind faded and on his last breath, he used the last of his strength to try to reach out to his brother, wherever he was,
"I'm sorry." He whispered. His heart stopped and Gilbert was gone.
What he didn't see or realize was Ludwig's hands on his shoulder and tears streaking his red face, desperately shaking him and screaming his name, begging his older bruder to come back.
A/N: Sorry this is shorter then my usual stories. I think I forgot to mention this was a two-shot. Please review and tell me what you think!