When Prussia woke up, he was lying on his side on a cot inside a dark tent that he had never seen before. His cold, bloodstained, Prussian Blue uniform was gone, replaced by bandages wrapped around his chest and new, soft pants. He felt cleaner than he'd been in three years.

There was no blanket, he noticed slowly, before he realized what was keeping him warm. It was a thick, light brown, clearly russian military coat. And he'd only seen one man, or rather, one country, ever where this coat.

Without moving, so as to not show that he was awake, he glanced around the tent. It was empty of anyone other than himself. He sighed with relief, before pulling himself up. He gasped slightly in pain as the skin around the bullet wound pulled sharply, and with great resignation, he laid back down.

He would not be moving anywhere quickly anytime soon.

Prussia, though he would never admit it, was scared. Here he was, wounded, weak, unable to get up, in the middle of a Soviet Union camp, inside of Russia's tent. He could feel that a fraction of his soldiers were still fighting somewhere, but no longer under his command, but his brother's. His city, Königsberg, had fallen. He had lost. His people had fled in to Germany or other countries, or had been murdered by the invading army. He was officially under Russia's control.

Suddenly the tent opened and Ivan walked in, beaming happily.

"You are awake now! I am very glad." He said, leaning over the wincing Prussian.

Gilbert said nothing, only glaring slightly in return to the other's smile. He may have shown the other mercy before, but now was not the time to be hospitable. No, now this was war. He should have just gone ahead and pulled the trigger. Well, Ivan can see if he won't shoot again.

The Russian took the silence as a sign that his new patient was tired. "I'll let you go back to sleep, da?" He whispered, pulling away and turning his back to look over a pile of papers on a table in the opposite corner of the tent.

The moment Ivan said that, Prussia realized just how tired he really was. Within a matter of seconds he relaxed and allowed his eyes to slowly shut, giving in to another spell of dreamless deep sleep.

When he woke again, Gilbert felt warm and comfortable, and in his still half asleep mind, he didn't notice what made him so comfortable. He felt feverish, therefore any source of heat was welcome, and who was he to cast off the arms around him, fighting back the winter air- wait...arms...around...him...

"Russia, what the hell are you doing!" He yelled, attempting to tear himself out of the other's embrace, only to fall back in pain. Red dots swam in front of his eyes as he felt himself huddle into himself.

Ivan sighed, pulling the shaking Prussian closer. "I am making sure you don't die of the cold. That would be quite a shame, lyubov." He stated calmly, seemingly unaffected by the fight the other had put up moments before. This time Gilbert gave up, steadying his breathing and swallowing down the pain. Russia noticed how skinny he was, how rather than feeling like the strong soldier he appeared to be, he was fragile and small without his uniform, and his skin was scarred, and his spirit was very soon to be broken.

"You spared me, Prussiya, so I will keep you. You will be much happier here until the war ends." He cooed quietly, not noticing Prussia's eyes still open, and the resilience that still flowed through him.

"Only when hell freezes over, Ivan."

"But haven't you noticed, it's already frozen here."

He didn't reply. In Prussia's head, he reviewed every method of escape he could think of, but at the moment, he had no chance. He was hurt. He was sick. He was simply and unconditionally done with fighting at the moment. The war was being lost before his eyes, he had known they were going to lose before it even started, but even still, he sided with his brother.

But Russia was right. This was hell.

As another attack on a small, innocent Prussian village commenced somewhere where no troops would be sent to save the townspeople from being massacred, he closed his eyes once again, and allowed the darkness to swallow him whole.

His biggest disappointment came when he woke up again and found himself still breathing. Ivan was gone again though, he noticed quickly, and slowly dragged himself off the bed. Far in the corner he saw his pile of gear, minus his gun and other assorted weapons unfortunately. However, he did find his radio, sitting on top of his pack.

With staggered, broken steps he made his way over and snatched the device off the bag, before turning it on and sending one message.

"Bruder, I've been shot and captured by Soviet Forces. Königsberg is under Russian Control. My soldiers are either dead, captured, or serving under you now. Send military aid and get me the hell out of here!" He whispered pleadingly, only now showing a hint of desperation.

"I'll try my best. We are locked in fights on both the eastern and western front, and I won't know how long it will take to come get you. If you escape before the camp moves, we'll be nearing the city by a few miles. If you make it to the forests nearing the country, you'll find our encampment." Germany replied urgently, though no emotion seemed to show in his mechanically garbled voice.

"I will be there bruder I promise. Don't leave without me." he choked back, placing the radio down and hobbling back to the cot. He was almost there when his legs gave out, and Prussia fell.

Russia, who had only just entered the tent, caught him before he hit the floor. He set the unconscious soldier back up on the makeshift bed, and wrapped his coat back around the albino's trembling body. He took the pair of handcuffs he'd been keeping latched around his belt out and carefully clipped Gilbert's left hand to the frame of the wood.

"Don't try to get up again, dorogoy." He smiled, ignoring the weak strands of german the other whispered in his dreams, promising he'd escape, swearing he'd see his brother again.

Prussia didn't even gain consciousness when Ivan shot a hole through the center of the radio, or burned the uniform the other treasured so dearly. He did however feel the pain deep in his heart as the other shredded his flag apart, piece by piece, and threw it in the fire.