Hello, everyone! Here's my second story - although I actually wrote it and posted on my dA account quite a while before I wrote Eight Hundred. Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited my other story! I love you guys!

Here's another story, anyway. It's also PruHun, although I first intended to make it USUK (though I changed my mind when it hit me that England couldn't get pregnant normally). ...I sure do write a lot of PruHun :P

This story is also based off of a Vocaloid song, this time by mothy/Akuno-P. It's called "White Brick and Black Mourning Dress". It's a great song, sung by Kagamine Rin, so feel free to look it up!

I don't own Hetalia - it belongs to Himaruya, and I don't own this Vocaloid song, either. The written out story, though, is mine.

Anyways, enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated! :)

Elizabeta sighed to herself. It was no use. She couldn't even drown out the grumbling of her stomach, much less stop it completely. Her old, worn out clothes reminded her faintly of the hot dinners she used to have with her parents many years ago. Oh, how the freshly baked bread would almost melt on her tongue back then! The warm, welcoming smell of chicken and blueberry pies would drift through the air, inviting the girl to step out from her room and come down to dinner. And the ever-present happy atmosphere emitting from her parents and siblings would never fail to make her smile.

But that was all gone.

Elizabeta looked down at her old, fraying black dress and hole-filled shoes. They were splattered with mud and dirt, no longer boasting their rich colours from under the ever-present layer of filth. How long had it been since she'd had a proper meal and washed?

That's right, not since her family passed away. Needless to say, it was a miracle that the girl of eight managed to survive, even though everyone else in her house was infected with the Black Death. She should consider herself lucky, the goodwill would tell her, that God had spared her life yet.

And what luck this was.

Elizabeta's stomach grumbled once more, and the girl sighed. It was no use to try to silence it. The cat was long out of the bag. Unhappily, Elizabeta walked ahead, kicking up little clouds of dust as she walked. There wasn't anywhere to go – the country was in such a crisis that even orphanages couldn't squeeze Elizabeta into their lists, much less families. But she knew she wasn't alone. Many other people (including children, mind you) lived and died like this.

As she walked along the filthy streets, something in a fancy-looking shop caught her eyes. She stopped to take a closer look at it, if even for a little while. Elizabeta didn't press her face or hands against the glass (she had been scolded for that more than once already!), but she simply observed. There, amongst the expensive looking furniture and beautifully carved wooden cabinets lay a mirror.

It was a simple hand mirror, really. The reflective silver was surrounded by beautifully carved wood, painted in different shades of yellow. Her reflection in the mirror showed her how bad she really looked – her long brown hair was unwashed and greasy, her face was caked with mud and her clothes were terribly filthy.

And then a different image flashed in the mirror. Elizabeta gasped at it, but the image fled as quickly as it had come. Even in the small time she had seen the other image, she had remembered it perfectly. It was a boy (or man, in that case) with light blonde hair, seemingly white. His crimson red eyes were bright and cheerful, and his lips were curved upwards in a smile – something very rare in these miserable times.

Elizabeta gazed at the mirror, willing for the single happy image to return, but it didn't. The only thing that the mirror reflected was Elizabeta's own, unhappy face. But there was something different about her now. Her own lips curved slightly upwards at the thought of the boy in the mirror, and her green eyes sparkled with hope.

The days passed on, each more dreadful than the last. Elizabeta had to rely on manipulation and stealth to get something to eat every day. But in the same way, the days become brighter as they passed along. Everyday, when her stomach would finally silence a little, she'd come back to the shop with the mirror.

Coming back, she smiled at the mirror behind the glass. Everyday, the mysterious boy in the mirror would come back for a little longer, smiling at Elizabeta. And…well, his smile was Elizabeta's only happiness. As she gazed at the nameless boy in the mirror, she spoke to him softly.

"Good morning, Gilbert," she whispered, using the name he had made up for the anonymous boy, "How have you been?"

Through the window of her shop, a blonde man watched the young girl talk to the mirror. He had no idea why she'd come to his shop everyday, not begging for money or food, but to simply talk to the mirror, which she named "Gilbert". Well… the girl did look rather lonely, perhaps she just wanted a friend, even if it was a reflection. Anyways, it didn't harm the German owner of the shop at all, so he didn't shoo her off like so many others.

The German smiled slightly at the ragged girl. Standing up, he placed a leftover piece of staling bread near the doorstep, ready for the girl to pick up. The blonde man might have always worn a grim expression on his face, but in his own way, he looked out for the girl full of hope.

Elizabeta smiled sadly at 'Gilbert' in the mirror. It was getting late, and the girl had to find somewhere to sleep soon. A couple coins weighed in her pocket, and she brushed them with her hand slightly and smiled. It wasn't much, but it was definitely a start. Glancing back for a moment, her eyes lingered on the price tag. 185 dollars. That kind of money seemed impossible to ever get, but it didn't mean that she couldn't try. Smiling sadly at 'Gilbert' one last time as a goodbye, she waved as well. Something in her heart ached with the thought of having to leave 'Gilbert', but for the young girl it was an unfamiliar emotion.

"Elizabeta," 'Gilbert' said, gazing into the young girl's eyes with a smile through, "if your eyes and heart remain as innocent as they are right now, I'll always be with you."

The words surprised Elizabeta, but she smiled heartily.

"…Thank you, Gilbert."

"Elizabeta! Please, come down! We are going to be late!" a smooth, yet rough voice called out. Elizabeta sighed.

"I'm coming, dear!" she cried, slowly standing up to get out of her room. Her dress was expensive, as well as the many jewels adorning her slender body. Her husband's was even more so.

Slowly, she walked out of the room and downstairs, where her husband and son awaited her. She gave the Austrian man a hurried kiss on the cheek, quickly pulling away. He was adorned in expensive clothes and waiting impatiently for his wife to hurry up so that they could leave.

"Let's go, darling~" he said, and Elizabeta nodded.

She looked down at her son before her husband pulled her away. In all these years, Elizabeta had never managed to buy the mirror. This unwanted life, this unwanted marriage… well, eventually an only son was born. His light blonde hair, almost white, would always be messy, no matter how many times they tried to pat it down, and his bright crimson eyes shone with hope.

"I love you, Elizabeta." Her son, Gilbert said with an innocent smile, which Elizabeta returned.

The young boy smiled up at his mom, and well… that smile was Elizabeta's only happiness.