Okay. This is kind of sad and depressing. T.T

I had some inspiration and had to write this. This doesn't in any way reflect what is going on in the real world. (At least, I hope it doesn't)

I hope you enjoy it. I've never written anything like this before, nor have I even written for Hetalia, this is my first. :D

Sorry it's so short

Rated for character death.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, nor do I rule the real countries.

The relentless rain came down upon a battlefield, washing over all who stood proud, and all who lay low. Even the rain could not clense the souls of the two nations who fought at this time.

Soldiers lay among their horses, some beaten and some no longer among the living, but those who still stood, stared. Some with a stoic indefference, some with hidden fear.

One with defeat. One with victory.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen" One proclaimed. Stepping forward, gun at the ready from it's holster. He used it to lift the face of the kneeling young man in front of him, staring at his defeated face. "Arthur!" He yelled at him, "The great United Kingdom has fallen. Will you not help it get back on it's feet? Stand up, England"

He tried to stand, balancing unsteadily, looking at his junior, he smiled sadly.

"No" Arthur whispered sadly. Falling back on to his knees.

The other nation seemed baffled by his response, eyebrows rising visibly. "What?"

"Look around" England continued, in a painful, small voice, "Tell me, what do you see?"

The other nation complied, scanning the battlefield, searching for the meaning behind Englands words. He couldn't see anything, barring the scars of the battle that had taken place not moments ago.

As if reading his thoughts, England smiled. "Nothing is left. It's all gone. And without what used to be here - without the vibrance and life of this once great kingdom - It'd be worthless to continue. And today, you proved that to me" He said, his eyes soft and far, far away from the present time.

"And just as you said, I have fallen." He whispered.

The other nation seemed mortified at what England was implying, his eyes widened and he spoke, "You... you don't know what you're saying Arthur! There isn't anything wrong - it's the same way it has always been!"

"I've been deluding myself into thinking that for far too long." England sighed, "It's time I stopped living in a fairytale. I know what has to be done."

He painfully hauled himself to his feet, walking over to the other nation and enveloping him in a tender hug. Inside, the older nation was falling apart. He had known this for a long time, but had refused to accept it. He had kept it from his best friend, and now it was time to come clean.

Releasing himself, he took the other nations hand, putting something in his grasp and holding it against himself. He looked into the eyes of the other nation, and said sincerely,

"Kill me, America"

Alfred stared at his older counterpart in utter disbelief.

"Pull the trigger, Alfred."

He only continued to stare.

"I would rather die at your hand than anyone else"

He said, pointing the gun at his heart, holding his best friend close.

"I... can't..." Alfred said, tears in his eyes merging with the droplets of rain on his face. He tried to pull the gun away, but England held it firmly in place.

"You can, and you will." Arthur whispered painfully, still looking into the ocean blue eyes of his closest friend. He laughed a quiet laugh, saying, "What happened to the times when you used to do everthing I asked?"

"I grew up" Alfred whispered in return.

"I know. But for just this once, I'll have to ask you to grow back down" He said, gripping onto Alfred for support and holding him tight. "Please. Do this for me, if not anything else."

He said, putting his hand around Alfreds which hastily gripped the gun trigger.

Alfred let out an audible anguished sob, and followed his orders.

The sound echoed endlessly, ringing into the ears of both men who stood, and others who supported. It became muffled by the rain and faded into black.

"Thank you" Arthur whispered, sounding serene even as the door of the great world were in his grasp.

Alfred gripped his closest friend tight in his grasp, not letting him fall, even in his death.

He sat down beside him, cradling him until the powerful nation was no more. For now, he could only grasp his sorrow and loss, and hold them to him dearly, as that was his last memory of his best friend.

This war had been his choice, yet he knew in his mind the outcome from the start. For that, he couldn't forgive himself.

England had fallen at his hand.

Alfred did nothing to prevent the tears rolling steadily from his eyes.

The heavens wept with him still.

Review? It would be appreciated :)