The morning was bright through the pure glass wall of Elizaveta's guestroom. The light seemed to glow white, so brilliantly reflected off the thick blanket of snow that had fallen overnight. She blinked through the brightness, rubbing her sleepy eyes as she awoke.

Wait - guestroom? It hit her. Great. So it wasn't a dream. Eliza groaned as the memories of last night's bath trained through her mind. He just jumped in. He just ripped off his clothes and jumped in - and to push me up against the wall? She sighed. It was a surprisingly swanky move, even for him - come on, in the shower? Really? Even for Gilbert that's out of line!

All grogginess disappearing, she stretched a bit and slid out from under the sheets. Out of bed, she threw on the short silk housecoat lying at the foot of the mattress over the matching skimpy nightdress she'd slept in. She didn't want to know where Prussia had gotten women's sleepwear, or why he'd purchased them in the first place. With a quick finger combing of her hair in the bathroom mirror, Elizaveta departed the guestroom, traveling up the hall then down the stairs. She found the kitchen on her first try, but was snubbed in her ultimate mission. Gilbert seemed to have read her mind. The drawer underneath the oven was chained and padlocked numerous times, as were the cupboards around it where anyone might find a frying pan or other sort or bakeware. Gilbert leaning on the counter beside the handywork, wearing nothing put pajama pants, half hauled down his hips like some underwear model, and that damned smirk.

"That's cheating." Eliza scoffed, hands on her hips defiantly while standing in the doorway of the huge designer kitchen. "You've gotta at least give me a chance to get it."

"Hell no! I'm not taking that risk." Gilbert lowered his voice and mumbled, darting his eyes away momentarily. "That thing really hurts, y'know."

"Hurts? Hurts?" The brunette chortled. "Then it's WORKING! You've got a load of pain coming at you for last night's little event!" She pointed a finger at him with attitude. "Don't think I'm letting that go because you locked up my primary weapon." She made a strut through the kitchen, passing him to begin raiding the few unbarred cupboards. "Alright, where are you hiding the cutlery?"

"Pshh! Think about it Liz," He retorted,"Why would I tell you if I went to the trouble off hiding it in the first place?"

"Fine!" She grumbled. "I'll just get out the blender or something. We'll see what happens when we stick your tongue in and push 'purée'!"

"Oh, but there are so many better places for my tongue to be stuck, don't you think?"

Oh, the smirk. She threw him a glare.

He continued. "I can think of four off the top of my head, and they all involve - guess who?" He stepped a little closer and grabbed her by the hips from behind, pulling her snuggly to his side.

"Do not touch me!" She gave an attempt to shove off the arms around her, but Gilbert didn't budge.

"Aw, but Liz..." He bent over and nuzzled his face in her hair at the back of her skull. She turned her head quickly to thwart it, scowling as their eyes met. "We could have so much fun, you and I, me and you, us. The first place is your mouth, of course, second being your ear, third your navel, and theeeeen..."

"I am really not in the mood for your bull shit." She jeered.

"I suppose if I were Roderich you wouldn't be having such a fit, hmm?"

Elizaveta flinched and turned to stone in his arms. You...bastard...

A swell of nauseousness bubbled deep in the pit of her stomach, a cold tingle running up her spine. For a moment, her lips parted softly, urging to speak a cry. Her eyes moistened. A strand, a film strip of memory wheeled into her thoughts. I ran, I ran, why did I run, Her throat released a strangled squeak, alarming the male holding her. Why did I...leave him there?

Her body lurched softly under his hold, she tried to hold in that first sob, but her lungs could hardly permit it. The only multiplied from there until Elizaveta was openly bawling. Gilbert's mind spun. Shiiiiiiiit, the threats stopped - never a good sign! And...Jesus, is she crying? SHIIIT! Lizzie doesn't even have a weak side, does she? He let her push out of his arms, realizing that he'd brought on this landslide of emotion. He felt a tad guilty for being naive enough to bring 'him' into this, especially knowing 'he' was the whole reason Eliza was there with him at that moment.

She stumbled out of his grasps a few feet away once out of his arms, holding and leaning on the island counter and clutching around her gut with one arm. At first, Gilbert dared to do anything, but his courage trickled back.

"...Lizzie? You okay, babe?" He stepped closer and sat a hand on her shoulder. Big mistake.

She let go of the counter and herself in impossibly fast time and spun around to face him. There was less than a second of stinging eye contact before, with every ounce she could muster, she swung a fist into Gilbert's face.

"Schwanzlutschen Ficker!" He swore, sheilding his bleeding nose and clutching the island. "Again with the nosebleed!"

You bastard.

She burst out the front doors and tried to run through the extremely tall, extremely wet and extremely frigid layer of fresh snow. It was more like bounding, trudging, then stopping because she was already tired. She'd gotten far, but still not out of the gigantic yard because of the snow and cold. Her emotions slowed her, as well, as if an anchor tied to each calf.

She just stood there, staring into the snow capped ever-greens of the tree line framing the yard, until her frozen knees buckled and she sank into the snow. From there, she got lower still, keeling over to catch whatever breath she could. Her chest felt tight from the sharp wind slicing down her esophagus with each ragged intake, and the tears that did more than just wet her eyes now. It hurt, smothering in tears.

The snow was up to her hips, when sitting on your knees like she was, burning and stinging her bare legs and hardly covered torso with only the flimsy silk nightgown and robe. Yet, through the burning, she didn't even attempt to move. Her head was up and her eyes were fixed on those ever-green trees. Expecting something to emerge from the branches. Someone. Someone dear.

I'll just freeze to death out here, all alone. Hungary promised herself, I owe it to him. I owe it to Roderich for getting away when he could
not.

"Liz!" The Prussian's voice called, echoed behind her from the house, muffled by the wind. "Lizzie, are you mad? Come back inside, it's freaking freezing out here!"

Go away, Gilbert, just leave me out here to die.

"Lizzie, come on! Seriously, frau! You're not even wearing clothes!"

Gilbert, stop it. I know, I know, I know. Just stop already. Maybe I want to be in pain, huh? Maybe I deserve it.

There was a queer silence. The silverette behind her hushed, and her consious quieted too. Elizaveta inhaled. A light gust of air tousled the edges of her robe. She emptied her lungs again. Still, quiet. Then, the cutter was delivered.

"...Please?" This message was clearer, louder, closer; enough so that she momentarily forgot about looking at the trees. Her eyes shut in agony.

"Gilbert, it's as if you have a heart." She stammered under her breath.

"It's yours, and you know that." This was even better than the latter. Perhaps because Gilbert was not far away, yelling his pleads. He stood at her side in the deep snow, laying and warm hand on her shoulder just like in the kitchen. "Elizaveta..."

"G-Get off of me," Her teeth began to chatter as she blinked her eyes open quickly and looked over her shoulder at him. His face was creased in worry, his smirk broken to the reverse, frowning. He, neither, had taken winterwear out into the yard; bare chested and beautiful, he hovered over her though the sub-zero, howling winds and touched her. Asked her.

"Jesus, Lizzie, you feel like fucking ice."

"I s-said to g-get your hand o-off of-"

"I don't give a damn what you said!" Gilbert's voice strained in desperation. "That's enough, Liz, this is seriously insane. You need to get back inside."

"W-What if I don't want to go back?" She cried, twisting his words in her unstable mindframe. "No, I...I need to go back, I know I do, I need to see if he's okay, but what if I can't face what I might find?"

His hand tighened on her shoulder. "Explaining things inside my warm, cozy home won't hurt
him, Liz."

She was silent, then gazed back to the trees. "But...he's probably not in a warm house right now."

Prussia didn't care, that was giving in enough for him. He bent down, taking her around the waist and shoulders and slowly easing her up from stiffness until she leaned, but stood. He kept an arm tightly around her as they trudged together back to the front doors of the modern mansion.

Once inside, he quickly escorted her to the white couch of his living room, mimicing the passing night.

No words were exchanged for nearly 10 minutes. "Liz..." Gilbert began, ducking his head to look at her from under her eyelashes as she gazed to the floor. "Earth to Lizzie, come in, come in Lizzie..."

"That's annoying." She mumbled.

"Then talk to me, Liz, c'mon! I think you need to explain some crap about yesterday."

"I-I..." She turned away sheepishly. "I don't want to."

"Vhat? Eli," He lightly grabbed her forearm, drawing her to face him again. "I thought you said you wanted to talk."

"You said that." She whimpered. "I said that...h...h-he's..."

"- Probably out in the cold, yeah yeah, I know. But dontcha think you'll feel better to get it off your chest? I might be able to help you, liebe, but I need to know how first."

"...I don't know where to start..." She stammered after thinking over his offer.

"The beginning's a good place."

"And where's that?"

"How 'bout you take off from where you stopped last night? You were cleaning dishes after supper..."

"...Right." She sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back into the couch. "There was this mob of men, they all looked quite intimidating in their uniforms...army uniforms...and they had guns and weapons and were approaching the house quite quickly. They shot, apparently, because, well..."

"Yeah, I get it." Prussia eyed her shoulder. The nasty looking gun shot wound
was very visable between the thin spagetti strap of her nightdress and the robe that had slipped from her shoulders. "Lizzie, you're...you're gonna have to tell me...what all happened to Roderich."

Elizaveta flinched, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. A flood washed over her of nausea and regret and worry. "Roderich...?"

"Yeah, Roddy."

"Mmm, Roderich..."

"Him."

Roderich..Roderich...Her thoughts circled, the voice repeating his name louder and louder in her head until she had to say it aloud. "...Roderich? Roderich? W-Where?" She pleaded.

She could see him in her mind's eyes, what he looked like, her handsome, classy husband. His rich auburn locks, his fair, soft skin, the way his glasses sat just on the bridge of his nose...and then how he looked being dragged away from his home, deshevled and beaten and bloody. His majestic coat was torn and tattered and covered in splashes and splatters of cardinal. His eyes were lidded as two soldiers took him by the arms and hauled him back in the direction in whence they'd approached.

"Where is he? Where is my Roderich, my husband? Where have you taken him?" She balled openly.

"Lizzie!" Gilbert took her the girl by the shoulders. "Lizzie, open your eyes! Alright, stop thinking about it! It was a bad idea, okay?"

Her eyes slowly batted open, stalling the horrid memories and filling her eyes with the striking image of the attractive albino. "Roderich..." She leapt into his lap, quite easily since his arms were on her.

She grappled her arms and legs around him and crushed her face into his bare chest, panting heavily, breaths steaming on his skin. "No, you're Gilbert. Gilbert...Gilbert...Gil..."

Prussia was flabbergasted at what was happening in his lap. He was preparing to slap her out of her stupor, but instead she came to on her own - and jumped in his lap? Not that he objected in any matter, he was just shocked. He did what he knew to be calming to the girl.

He patted her silky caramel hair, combing through it nervously with his fingers. He stared down at her in his lap. "...You gonna be okay now, Liz? It's alright, you can get it off your chest some other time, if you're not ready yet."

"No, now." She tilted her head up, peering head on into his edgy ruby eyes. "I'll be okay." She took a deep breath, catching her bearings, and began. "Roderich came running at the gunshot. He flashed out the door to face the mob. He had nothing. No defense, no weapon, no hope. They...beat him, Gil. The surrounded him, somehow got him on the ground and beat him, with the butts of their guns and their own hands and feet. A couple came in the house and drug me out by the waist. I was thrown on the ground beside Roderich, and he looked really bad. His hand...stretched out over the ground, searching for mine. I strained mine out to meet it, but a thick boot suddenly crunched down on his. He didn't even make a sound, he just convulsed once, then...t-then closed his eyes. He didn't open them again before the got him by the elbows and started to cart him off. Then he was gone, and I was left helpless on the ground, surrounded by a dozen madmen. I was so afraid...that they would do...things to me, Gilbert, y-you know...t-take off my dress, and...but one of them called the rest back, and they followed in the direction of those who took Roderich away until I couldn't see them anymore."

Fotze." Gilbert spat distastefully, his hands sliding from her mane to cup her face, a little too affactionately. "Lizzie..."

She gave only a lightly confounded glance, "...Y-Yes?"

"I can make you forget, y'know~" He pressed forwards, the tip of his pale nose skidding hers. "I can replace those memories for ya, my pleasure."

"Gilbert," She pulled away awkwardly. "I have a hunch at what you're insinuating, and I don't like it!"

"Alright alright, forget it. Just c'mere." His arms entangling around her frame, envelopping her in a close embrace. "Focus on forgetting for now, ja?" He snuzzled his face into her neck. "I'll console you."

Elizaveta looked blankly to a far wall over his shoulder. "That's when it started snowing." She mumbled.

"...Mm?" Gilbert buried his face in the crook of her neck and clavicle, only half paying attention.

"That's when it started snowing," She repeated, obvious that she was continuing her story. "After they were completely gone from my sights. I used to like the snow. But now, I can't help being reminded of what...happened."

Gilbert pulled her in even tighter, trying to position the Hungarian, a smidge on the risque side, in his lap without her noticing. She turnd a bit to whisper, lips at the shell of his ear.

"Snow is white and pretty and clean," She murmured. "But after it drifted into the pools of Roderich's blood in his own driveway, it's dirty. Snow is a vile, nasty, disgraceful thing. I keep seeing it...red."


Ja...sorry about the lack-of-timeline. This is supposed to be the present, Gilbert's house is all ultra-modern and shit, and yet he is somehow his own country who doesn't live with Ludwig? AND AUSTRIA AND HUNGARY ARE MARRIED? STILL? I suppose that makes this AU...? Ignore my idiocy and just enjoy the plot, bitte!