Hey y'all! Sorry it's been forever! College is kicking my ass to be quite honest. T_T But I'm writing whenever I get the chance! 19 credit hours is something that I will never do again. Here's the latest chapter! Enjoy!

Such Beauty in Despair

Chapter Two: Amongst the Laughter

Never once has the albino ever fallen asleep in a bathtub. Yet by some consequence of some law named after some guy Murphy, Gilbert was indeed fast asleep while in the tub. His rubber ducklings brushed up against his pale chest, similar to that of small boats tied to a dock. The small ducklings seemed to look up at their owner as they bobbed, saddened that he wasn't responding to his favorite bath toys. But the warm water had cast its spell on the exhausted Prussian. Mischievous and cunning, the water had planned to keep him here until the nation's skin was beyond shriveled. Upon the light heaving of his chest, the water rolled back and forth, carrying the white clouds of the bubble bath along in a rhythmic sway.

"Bruder,"

"Bruder, wake up!"

Blue orbs peered at the sleeping nation, as crimson remained hidden behind latched doors.

"Bruder! Its going to rain!"

"Nein Westen…" The large figure mumbled. "Let me sleep."

"But Bruder! Look!"

The smaller pointed up towards the darkened sky, unknowingly of course to the obstinate nation who mumbled once more before he shifted to the side. It would be at this moment, of course, that the sky would choose to rumble slightly in agreement with the younger nation.

"See! Did you hear that!" The younger's voice chirped at the sound of thunder, neither afraid nor distressed. It was a voice filled with youthful excitement. However, the Prussian remained obstinate.

"Nein. That was my stomach…now Westen, let me sleep." But the old nation was all but sleeping now that he posed a single eye up at his counterpart. Ordained with a slight smirk, the smaller had no time to counter before the older spoke again. "Unless you would care to join me, I will just sleep and nothing more. Kesesese~"

That chuckle burned through the smaller's cheeks and swelled them with embarrassment mixed with frustration. If he didn't release all of this energy soon, steam was sure to emit from his tiny ears. Small hands balled up into fists before being brought back down onto his caretaker's chest.

"Bruder! You idiot!"

The wheezing laughter from the elder was drowned out by the cracks and rumbles of the brewing storm above the two. The now non- sleeping nation sat up on his elbows, and looked to the sky; simply stating: "It's going to rain."

This is where the face-palm was created. It was the older nation's laid-back attitude and the younger's frustration that caused this action to exist. It was this very moment that a small hand was brought up to a small forehead, where a small 'smacking' noise was emitted. This of course would be dubbed as the 'face-palm' at a later date in time.

And at a much later date and time, the older nation was still slumbering. This time, he wasn't soaking wet from rain, but drenched in a now cold bath while his servant stood loyally outside the bathroom door awaiting his master's emergence from the bathroom. Although Strom was loyal, he was starting to question himself. It had been a while since he had last heard the movement of water. Could a nation drown? Was it possible for a nation to die? Could they commit suicide? Or was it possible that Germany could dissolve Prussia into nothing? Was Gilbert melting within the bath that the servant had prepared? Would the great Prussia even consider such as thing like death? Was it blasphemous for a nation to kill another or commit suicide? Was there even a single God? Or were the nations Gods themselves? These were the questions that ate at the servant while he waited for hours outside of the bath. The more and more Strom pondered about his questions, the more panicked the servant became.

Slowly, his master revived from his lengthy nap. A pale and now shriveled hand rose to meet a disapproving glare. How long had he been in the bath? Surely, a dream that was as short as that wouldn't cause him to sleep for long. And where were his servants to keep this wrinkled mess from happening? The Prussian shifted only slightly in order to determine the damage that was done; only to pale even further when he thought of his manhood. Almost immediately, Gilbert rose from the bath. To quick were his actions, causing him to slip and fall face-first upon the cold tile.

The sound of Gilbert's inward-curse was muffled by a door slamming open, revealing a bery panicked stricken servant shouting at him. Bare naked on the floor and very much confused, Gilbert could barely understand his own language. There were a few moments of silence between the speechless master and the panting servant before the words finally clicked in the Prussian's head.

"Are you God!"

Thin lips pulled back to reveal inhuman canines, bellows of laughter echoed towards the servant. 'Are you God' was seriously what this servant had yelled at him. It would be three whole minutes of laughter at an extremely embarrassed servant before the nation was able to stifle his laughter while coming up with a retort for his servant's question/statement.

"Am I God?" Gilbert repeated the question, with amusement. "I'm more than /just/ that." The Prussian turned darkly up at his servant, motioning for his towel. "Now tell me, servant, why is my skin like this?"

It was obvious that his servant was having difficulty answering Gilbert's question. Hell, from the servant's expression, it looked like the man was trying to force his own death. But Gilbert wouldn't want that for his most amusing servant; especially when the Prussian needed to laugh. Perhaps he should let the servant sweat it for a few more moments. To Gilbert, watching the servant was the most entertainment the Prussian's had in years.

Strom on the other hand, did not share his master's amusement with the situation. Just as Gilbert was thinking, Strom really was trying to induce his own death. Strom's wishful pleas were to no avail and his heart kept stubbornly beating within his chest. The servant, not knowing what else to do, dropped to his hands and knees, promptly begging for his forgiveness.

'Ah~ time's up.' thought the Prussian. He had had his fun from the servant, and he had taken what he could from it.

"No worries," Gilbert chose to speak to his servant as if they were on equal terms, friends even. "But I expect a good breakfast in the morning." He didn't want it to sound like an order; instead he had meant it as a jest among pals. With a keen smile Gilbert dismissed the other before striding past the servant and into bed. Preparations for war were always important, and Prussia knew he should get plenty of rest when the opportunity presented itself.

[Back in Germany…]

Ludwig kneeled in front of the large desk before him. "Führer, the eastern troops are as you instructed." That man's portrait loomed over the two souls present in the room, always scowling. The swastika hangs ornately on the wall adjacent of the portrait. (It hangs on the right-hand side of course.)

"And your brother?"

"He is not my brother."

It was a rare scene to behold, the Austrian's always stoic face lit up with a murderer's smirk, shifting from its usual scowl. "And why is he not your brother?"

The nation remained motionless, his head still bowed as he spoke. "He let the parasites in." There was a slight pause. "He is a parasite. /The/ parasite."

The Führer stood up, placing his hand upon the nation's head. "That's right. But we still have use of him, Germany."

"But he's the reason why I am weak! He's the reason why it hurts so much! He's the one who embedded the parasites into my blood!" Cerulean eyes were set ablaze as they shot upwards to the Führer. Ludwig hated the parasite. He wanted it dead.

"Prussia is a dog," The human gripped forcefully at inhuman hair. "and what happens to dogs that bite their owners or lose their purpose? What happens to those who sin? He must pay his punishment and atone for the crimes he's committed against you. Don't worry; he will answer to God in the end."

Ludwig bowed lower and kissed the sole of his Führer's boot in adoration. "You will make me strong; strong enough to put the dog out of its misery. You will get rid of the leeches on my skin, and the parasites in my blood. You. You are my Führer. I serve only you, and I serve you forever."

Alright, I did like the ending of this chapter with Germany. And I did like the flashback with little Germany and Prussia. I did not like the middle with Strom and Gilbert. I felt like I was rp-ing with myself rather than writing a fanfic. Ah~ but please tell me what you think! I know it's a pretty long set up, but please bare with me!

Thank you for reading! I hope to hear from everyone about their thoughts! Advice and any other sorts of comments are greatly appreciated!

Until next time!

~The Most Awesome Person Ever