... With this, I hereby announce Königreich Preußen is officially dissolved...
Gilbert's heart stops. Tears sting at the back of his eyes. Everything – every moment, every breath – seems unimportant as he shakes his head in despair. He can't think, he can't move, he can't do anything.
He doesn't even register what's going on – the pain is too much. It wrenches at his heart, and Gilbert can't help but cry out with the psychological terror he feels. He knows that many nations have fallen before him, but now that his moment is here he doesn't know what's going to happen to him.
He can't process any thoughts – all he knows is that this is so not awesome, and that he can't cry because the allies will only find a way to make his last moments unbearable. His hand slowly flutters up to Gilbird, the small bird sat on his shoulder chirping happily, not understanding its master's agony.
Prussia is no more, Gilbert realises, and he's never felt quite so alone before. He's no longer a nation, but he's not human either. He's got no one. His legs carry him numbly to where he knows West will be, because he needs to say goodbye to his little brother.
Russia's there – he's staring Germany down. Gilbert keeps walking, his red eyes dull and hollow. He places Gilbird on Germany's shoulder ever so quickly, standing in front of his brother. The apology on his lips comes out as a mutter, but then he looks up at Russia.
"Take me instead of West." He tells the Russian nation, his eyes daring the country to disobey. He almost stumbles as he takes a step towards the violet eyed man, and he tries to ignore the alarmed mutter of his brother.
Russia smiles a childish smile that Gilbert knows is anything but that of a child's. He stares the nation down, looking at the pipe he holds in his hand, before stifling a shudder. He won't appear weak with West standing behind him.
If he can't do anything after this, Gilbert wants to know that he's at least kept his little brother safe from this monster.
"I like that idea, da?" Russia says, his accent running thick causing his words to sound threatening to Gilbert's ears. Maybe it's because Gilbert knows that nobody's immortal or maybe it's because he knows he never really stood a chance, but he turns to look at his brother with a weak smile.
"End of the road West," he mutters, though he knows that his brother has no idea what he means. "Be good alright?"
Gilbert doesn't give Germany the time to respond. He turns back to Russia, and walks clumsily towards him – he wonders how long it'll be before he dies. He's no longer Prussia. Nothing matters.
He thinks of times when he went hunting with Hungary. He remembers when he used to annoy Austria. Thoughts of days with west pop up into his head.
(Bruder, Freund, Feind, Preußen, Gilbert Beilschmidt.)
Additional Notes:
This drabble is exactly five hundred words, so I can not tell you that it's a oneshot. (Translations: Bruder - Brother. Freund - Friend. Feind - Enemy. Preußen - Prussia.)
I love Prussia. If people think this is good, I may do a series of Oneshots/Drabbles on him. He's a really unique character in my opinion. His dissolution and personality seem to clash on the opposite ends of the spectrum and he's just so awesomely amazing! Ciao, Mint~
