Disclaimer- dont own hetalia
Note- thank you for all the reviews ^^. as usual the grammar help is loved due to my lack of english skills. This chapter is a bit, eh, morbid. There will be only one other chapter intense to this degree.
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There were shrills that rose from the shredded bits of steel and brick. The sky did not have clouds of vapor, but soiled ash and smoke that wrapped around Ludwig's lungs and strangled him. There was no scent, his nostrils were too caked with debris.
He walked along a street, slick with gas and liquids of unknown substance. His body flinched at every corner, waiting to be attacked. A infantile cry howled. He jumped, his chest puffed and a primitive roar gurgled from his throat. A blur fell past him and hit the ground, exploding unto him. His eyes stung and he growled as he turned away, desperately rubbing his face to rid of the substance. What had he been attack with? A bottle of wine? A gasoline bomb? He turned back to see.
What it was, he could not identify. It looked like fruit, like a melon perhaps. Gazing up he saw a man perched on a balcony.
"Hey!" He shouted up. His attacker's features remained cloaked, but he did not move. His silhouette the tell tale shape of an army man.
Another man joined him, his arms out. In his hands something squirmed. He reached out over the edge and dropped it onto the street. The creature cried to the ground where it was silenced and dissolved into a splatter. Another plummeted from the sky and fell next to him. The crimson juice sprayed up unto him. His blue iris widened as he looked down at the fruit that mauled him.
It was the fruit of his country, the sons and daughters of his people. Their bodies mutilating as they hit the stones. The infants rained down from the buildings, the dark figures laughing as their blood coated painted the cobbles.
"STOP IT!" Ludwig commanded. One held up an older child, perhaps a toddler. Smashing his body against the brick until the helpless being fell limp, then flung the lifeless corpse into the window, shattering the glass into a brilliant multicolored snow.
"NO, STOP IT!" He grabbed the nearest brick and hurtled it up at the killers. His arms were yanked back and his head met the warm puddle on the street. His spine was slammed with a sharp pain, a weight pinned him while his hair was yanked up. His neck strained, threatening to snap. His eyes rolled to the edges.
"Let him watch! Let him watch!" He heard from the back. A rough hand twisted his head. In front of him, the daughters of Germany were thrown up against the wall, surrounded by the enemy men. Their pleas shot from his ears into the pit of his gut. His body bucked and twisted beneath his captors in attempt to escape. Ludwig's blood shook in his veins from the vibrations of the cries. The skin of his palms shredded against the stones of the street as he fought to rise.
"Stop it! No! Please! NO!"
"You'll watch it! Watch as the people you tried to exterminate rape your daughters! The ones you once called allies throw your children from roofs! It's all your doing Ludwig," His skull slammed against the pavement.
"Your fault!" Slam
"NO,"
"Your fault!"
"It's not my fault! You're doing it!"
"YOUR FAULT" Slam slam slam
"NO! It was done to m-" Slam
"Everything is your fault," the voices whispered,
"NO!" Ludwig jolted up. His heart wrestled inside it's boney cell. His vision nothing but blackness. Damp sheets clung to his body, embracing him with a gentle coolness.
"Lu…Ludwig?" A soft voice called from his left. His mind began to soothe at the sound of that drowsy mutter. Ludwig's panting and harsh breath were the only sounds in the room. The familiar scent of his musky body odor and his roommate's fresh soaped flesh comforted him. He let his body fall back into the bed.
"Are you okay Ludwig?"
"Yes… I'm sorry Feli," He breathed. A soft hand brushed the muscles of his arm.
"You are so sweaty and warm… Go cool down," Feliciano gave a light shove, encouraging the man off the bed. The sticky sheets rebelled, clinging to his form. He let his body sloppily jog down the stairs into the kitchen. The window's jittered with a rough wind. The night was black from heavy clouds and the area was still. The cat moved in the shadows, startling Ludwig for a moment until his eyes took in the triangular ears. The animal's soft outline arched up and stretched from his curled position. Ludwig watched the cat who watched something outside the window, its head adjusting to the movement of its interest. A low growl came from its mouth and rose in pitch to a horrid shrill. The animal sprang from the window sill and ran past Ludwig, its coat barely brushing against his hot skin.
"Kitty, hey," He softly called after it, but the pet paid no heed to his master and disappeared into the blackness. Ludwig turned back to the window, the forest beyond its glassy lens was trembling with fear from the coming assault of the heavens. Nothing else however warranted the response from his cat. He shrugged, resolving his mind to the fact that the cat, who could see better than he, merely spotted a stray animal. Ludwig turned toward the living room and stretched his arms. His fingers gracing the archways as he entered the room.
Suddenly a sharp crack startled the German. He stood at attention, his arms up and ready to fight. The glass from the kitchen glistened in what little light was available and speckled about the floor. The rock that was thrown slammed into the far wall.
"Ludwig!" A worried call came from upstairs. The blond flew up the stairs, his palms against the wall. At the top he collided with a soft body.
"Ludwig what was that?" Without responding he pushed Feliciano aside and dove to the floor. His arms searched under his bed and brought from it a gun.
"Get in Gilbert's room," He ordered. Feliciano obeyed, fumbling with the knob before slamming the door closed. He turned to see Gilbert dragging himself from the bed and falling over the edge, his injured leg flopping to the side.
"Gilbert!" His arms struggled to lift up the mattress and he produced a small gun. Feliciano went to his side and propped him back up on the bed.
Ludwig braced against the railing and listened. Glass crunched and scattered underneath the feet of the intruders. His ears twitched as he tried to count them. The thumps of their boots spread out slightly. He heard the cabinets begin to open and the silverware clang against each other.
"השג את האוכל! לא לבזבז זמן" Ludwig felt his brows dip and his thumb clicked the cock of his gun. His back slid along wall, the darkness blinding him, the sounds of the invaders creeping closer. He ducked as low as possible and aimed at the bottom of the stair case, waiting for his pray to appear. Scurried feet ran toward the living room, his finger on the trigger, his eyes wide, blood pounding into his skull.
A shadow appeared and he pulled the trigger. The pop of the gun seized his heart beats for a moment. A gurgled cry immediately rose from man and he fell to the floor. His comrades ran to him but halted before the staircase. The wounded man began to crawl.
"Stay down and I will not shoot! Stay where you are!" The victim curled up and rolled over. Ludwig stood up took a step. A flash from the night blinded him, a vicious pop assaulted his ears. A hot stream of air graced his side and pounded into the wood behind him. Ludwig pounced, like a rabid animal his massive hands restrained the robber and pinned him to the ground. His comrades in turn piled unto the blond. The scavengers pecked at him with their nails and tore at his body. Arching his back, he reared up beneath the weight of his assailants and flung the bleeding man to the side. Bringing around his knuckles Ludwig made contact with a head and crushed it through the paneling. He heard the banging of feet running up the staircase.
"Gilbert!" Ludwig shouted. The albino flinched. His senses focused on the sounds of the fight. He rose his pistol at the door. His mind counting the steps, estimating their appearance. He fired into the door, the wood blowing apart at the command of the lead. Gilbert quivered, the scent of gunpowder burning awakened a primal sense. His jaw clenched as he waited to hear if his enemy stammered back up.
"GET OUT! I WILL KILL YOU ALL! GET OUT!" A roar shook the innards of the brunette and the pale brother. Ludwig's voice growled with an animistic sneer. His lungs rolling like a lions would while guarding it's meal. The front door slammed open and Gilbert let out a breath.
ooooooooooooooooo
When the sun came up the damage could be seen. The window were completely ruined, glass glittering on the floor and across the counter tops. The blood from the intruder stained the wooden floors and streaked out the front. The bullet holes burned through the stairs and guest bedroom door. After Ludwig's scrutinizing eyes observed every bit of inventory, he determined the thieves got away with nothing but injuries. Gilbert had indeed landed rounds into the strange men however none were lethal.
Feliciano and Ludwig wasted no time when the sun peeked over the hills, suspiciously eyeing the little house. The glass was cleared by the Italian's swift hands and Ludwig sealed off the window. Now, instead of the kitchen having a view of the backyard, it was a view of half rotted wood and tarp.
"I am going to check on Gilbert," Feliciano said through the inner side of the wood. The hammering stopped for a moment, and grunt of approval was heard through iron nails that perched on the German's lips.
Gilbert had not stopped panting and panicking until morning. Now, his exhausted body lay on the bed but even in sleep his flesh wrinkled in pain. His pale features were twisted, mouth curled down, legs coiled and back arched. He looked like a stone, a powdery carving some demented artist decided to create. He was just a as stiff too. Feliciano's hand rested on his taut side, the muscles were so tense there was no give to them, no softness that would have remained in a healthy man. The pallet of whites and grays that made his body and shirt up were accented with flecks of red. His shoulders leaked from where the twine stitches woven into his hide. His stomach was always damp with a persistent yellowish glaze that his body insisted upon coating him with.
Feliciano felt his throat dry. Gilbert could never be described as a tender man. When the Italian thought back, there were few qualities outside of battle and leadership that would make the poor being likeable. But regardless of his intensity, he had always been kind to the darker haired man, even playful at points. His picking and agitation of his brother were all in good sportsmanship in the game of siblings. Gilbert had not hesitated a second to pull his weapon from his confines and protect his family, despite the agony he must have gone through yanking himself from the bed and falling to the harsh floor. The dying reflection of what was once one of the more passionate and loyal of Feliciano's friends made the image of the room distort. The warm salt tickled his eyelashes but he wiped it away.
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"Fucking ass master! I will fucking slit open your stomach you touch me again!" The sound of glass shattering and a door slamming was evidence that Gilbert had again reached his threshold. Ludwig had attempted to help change his bandages, but his brother merely snapped his jaws like a mad wolf and wielded his jagged claws against the blond. From the other side of the door the retreating brother tried to reason with him.
"Do you want them to get infected?" He asked,
"Fuck you!"
"Gilbert, please! The will begin to get painful if left on too long."
"I don't care! Let infection sink in! Just let me die!"
"Gilbert!"
"Get the fuck away!" Another thump rattled the door. Ludwig sighed and paced for a moment. A shivering weeping came from the other side of the door, muffled by the fabric of a pillow. Ludwig touched the rough grain of the wood and peered through one of the bullet holes. His brother lay on his stomach, hands pulling at his hair and mouth into the bed. From the peep hole he waited, the lunch by his brother's side would eventually tempt his starving body. Guilt began to pinch his soul when that slender arm reached for his stew. He convinced himself it was for the better, Gilbert wouldn't know until it was over. His palms tightened went the felt the lumpy pills within his pocket.
It was not long before the silvery haired man was quiet, his breathing turned shallow, and arm fell limp over the side of the bed. The drugged man was promptly turned on his back by his younger brother. The butchered flesh that was sown together like some homemade doll divided the plains of his body. The stitching had been done poorly, infection trickled from the wounds like water from a well.
Ludwig worked fast, cutting the old twine that held his brother together and washing the wounds in a solvent. The acidic substance hissed in the crevasse of his cuts. New, fresh stitching sealed him closed properly. He knew, in his mind, this should not be done but the wounds were too deep, too infected already, he had to close them. A small tube acted as drainage, but other than that, Ludwig closed his brother tightly. The skin split with each poke of the needle, the thread bunching up the pale hide with every tug.
The quick hands had finished his chest and legs. With tender hands, he turned his brother over and began to work on his back. The sheets beneath him soaked with wetness and blood. The body beneath him was cold, as it always had been since his return. His mind wandered back to that day. Sitting in his ruin of a home, pacing the floor like taunted dog, worrying if his son would live or die. Feliciano's warm form was his personal heater that tethered him to reality. A valiant protector against the evil, like a infant's blanket would be. But nothing had prepared them for the knock that came upon their door that day.
Gilbert's lifeless body was in the snow, convulsing from the cold. Ivan perched over him with a grin on his face. All that the Slavic man said was that he had gotten everything he needed from the 'animal' and departed. Gilbert had slept for two weeks before showing any sign of consciousness, which was born from his dilated mouth with such volume it jolted Ludwig from his sleep. The constant screaming lasted another month, like a baby in invariable colic he cried until his body fainted from exhaustion. The past few weeks had not been bad, he had walked in his own way, the pain had dulled somewhat, and he had finally been able to speak. This stunt Ludwig was currently pulling, may have set all the progress back.
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When Gilbert stirred from his drug induced stupor his voice assaulted the ears of his housemates with a pitch as sharp as nails. He had woken up to a body burning and reassembled into unfamiliar shapes. Neither his brother or the Italian responded to his cries of anguish. Only after hours of venting his pain through his dried and raw throat did he fall silent into his nest of blankets. His only entertainment besides the searing, tight, yanking at his wounds the new stitching provided was the changing colors of the sky. Flaring from brilliant oranges down to blackness.
After some time of exploring the mountain range of his closed wounds his rage dissolved. Yes, there was nothing like the feeling of your flesh and muscle being shifted back into position after being so mutilated. The landscape of his body had darkened, but the scent of puss and rot was gone. His body was clean, hair free of the sweat that had tied the strands together. A gratefulness began to infect his mind just as his brother slipped through the door.
The blond's arms were raised and ready to deflect any projectiles. But none came to beat him, not even a curse to thrash his conscious. Gilbert merely stayed quiet, his eyes to the ceiling, counting the defects in the beams. Ludwig set a glass of water and bowl of broth by his bedside. Inwardly, he hoped he could disappear into the hallway without a word from his brother. Savoring the lack of shouting between them, the moments of peace, despite the tension that shackled both men so intensely Ludwig thought he could drag his sibling around by it.
Ludwig was almost to the door, when Gilbert's lips parted and his chest shook as it expanded.
"Ludwig," The pale hand on the knob tensed,
"Yes?"
"…Thank you," He breathed, his face rigid. Ludwig turned, slightly astounded by his brother's words. Gilbert breathed through his nose,
"Now… Get out," The albino growled.
ooooooooooo
"Ve, nothing was shattered?" Feliciano asked,
"No… He seemed contained… Perhaps the medicine is still in his system." Ludwig figured as he sipped a glass of water. Feliciano sat at the kitchen table sorting papers and mail. The postman had been kind enough to store their mail and keep it protected from looters and those wanting a heat source. Most of the letters were useless, more valuable as fire starters.
"Oh, this one is from Roderich," Feliciano flicked it to the other side of the table where the large German's hands plucked it up and tore it open. His blue eyes marched along the writing and he sighed.
"What is wrong?"
"Nothing… Roderich and Elizaveta are trying to establish communication with us. We've been so separated, even they are getting a raw deal from the allies…" Ludwig said,
"I thought he'd be livid at you," Feliciano laughed,
"He is, the rest of the letter is not to pleasant,"
"Oh…Well, what about Elizaveta?"
"Nothing from her, he only speaks of her…" He answered, "She is probably just as angry… if not more…"
"Why do they want to contact you then?"
"Because the politics of the occupation are effecting them as well, in many bad ways. I don't know what they want, I as useless as a chained calf at this point!" Ludwig balled up the paper in his hands and left it crippled on the table.
"Ludwig! Anymore broth?" Gilbert shouted from upstairs,
"Just a minute!" He called back, "Roderich demanded we meet soon, within the next week. So the next few days I will be cleaning and repairing the house as best I can… Could you… Look after Gilbert?" He asked. Feliciano's mouth parted, ready to comply with his friend's request but a twinge of hesitation yank his voice back into his throat. Cursing, beating, once innocent objects becoming projectiles, Gilbert was a difficult patient. But did Feliciano have much of a choice?
"Don't worry about Gilbert, he's soft for me," Feliciano said. Although just as aggressive, Gilbert did tone down his accuracy of blows with the Italian. Preferring to ignore the darker male than challenge him. Since he was immobilized however, his rage seemed to have built up.
"This house need so much work…"
"You can get a head start now, I'll bring Gilbert more food and be down to help you after," He said.
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With stealthy caution, the Italian cracked open the door and peered in. The vermillion eyes of the injured beast stared back at him, struggling to hide the agony and put forth a threatening presence. He failed to do so, and the small man pushed open the door with his hip. In his hands a bowl of broth and a glass of water. He set it down carefully by the bed.
"Did I hear something about Elizaveta?" Gilbert asked,
"Huh? Oh, yes… She and Roderich are going to meet with Ludwig,"
"Really? Did she say anything?"
"No, Roderich wrote the letter we received. I don't think Elizaveta had much to do with it," Feliciano said. Gilbert sigh and fell silent for a moment.
"Feli, if you could… get me some paper and a pen, and an envelope please?" His request was more of a demand, and Feliciano nodded. He looked over to the broth and water,
"Damn, you guys are trying to make me piss my brains out aren't you? Look at all this liquid!"
"Ve… Well if you need help-"
"I'm big enough to reach the chamber pot, you know it, but it would be much easier if it wasn't across the room." He said,
"Ludwig though it would be nasty to have you smelling urine all the time."
"I rather smell urine than call each time I need to piss… Bring it here," He commanded. Feliciano did as he was told. Ludwig had made sure that the pot was always clean, but refused to dispose of anything besides urine. For that, a trip to the bathroom was a daily venture which Gilbert resented. His brother's ways were as humiliating to him as they were logical in function.
When Feliciano set the pot near the bed Gilbert flipped off his sheets and began to pull down his pants.
"Need he-"
"No, I am not useless. Unless you want to marvel at my size leave me be."
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Historic info:
in Berlin, but in other places as well, allied and in particular Russian soldiers threw the babies of Germans out windows and off buildings. Reports are fairly consistent from all sides that state a majority of the women of the city were raped, multiple times and around the country. After reprimand from Russia the numbers declined slightly.
Although many former prisoners could get free food and aid from Russia or other allies, many choose to go on their own. Germans had bare bone ratios and little or nothing to live on so their only defense was hostility. Many prisoners killed and stole from the now widowed or unguarded women and children in order to survive. Many admit to killing but some do also admit raping, in far less numbers than allied troops however. Almost every first hand account will state that stealing was the only way to get by at times. Because of the lack of resources, I personally feel it mattered little who anyone stole from, everyone was against everyone else in this particular point in time, although many could recieve free food from Russia or America I too would be very wary because a short time ago it was they who were inflicting arm against them.
hmmm, where will i go? PruXhun, hunXaus, Pru on top of Aus on top of Hun? who knows?
Next chapter is a tad more fluffy and will continue to get lighter.
by the way that hebrew is probably totally wrong, I fully admit I have no knowledge of Hebrew language besides shalem. It "should" roughly translate to: get the food, don't waste time. If you know how it should be written please, send it to me and I will revise it.
if you would like R&R ^^ it lights a fire under my lazy ass.