Just one of England's spells remained after his death, and it's power was wearing thin as the hours dragged on. As complicated of a spell as it was, it took longer to break than it had to set up. But messing with people's perceptions of time was rather difficult... especially now that it's caster was now dead...
Germany ran down the halls of the manor, desperately searching for Prussia. Surely he was here somewhere?
And Germany would soon be discovering what that last spell was...
His legs ached as he ran up the next flight of stairs. Third floor... He raced down the hallway, feigning obliviousness to the fresh blood stains hidden in the red carpet.
Just a few more steps...
Germany rounded a corner- the walls of which were covered in fresh blood... his blood- and Germany saw it. Saw him. Prussia. Dead on the ground. A bullet through his chest...
"Bruder?" Germany asked tentatively. But he knew what had happened. England's spell fell and he knew.
~Flashback~
Both Germany and Italy looked up to see the blue-eyed figure, standing quietly at the end of the hallway- seemingly shocked at what he saw before him.
And then he smiled.
"Have you finally figured it out?" the figure had asked slowly, his voice somewhat distorted somehow.
"Figured what out?" Italy asked- for some reason his voice sounded distorted as well...
"Germany?" the figure asked, completely ignoring Italy.
"Figured out what?!" Italy asked, snapping suddenly. The figured eyed him carefully, but didn't say anything about it. Germany was just barely able to respond, still processing what was happening.
"The fated-" Germany choked out, his own voice also distorted, "weren't supposed to kill each other... were they?"
The figure didn't respond.
"Well? Am I right?"
"You know that's against the rules, Germany," the figure said, but his smile widened. He was right. "Now... um..." the figure started, his voice distorting even more, "I think it's time you went back to the conference room, Germany..."
Strangely enough, Germany found himself going back there. It wasn't like he didn't have a choice, but he too felt that going back to the room was the best course of action...
"And, Italy... you should go back to your room for now..." the figure said. And off Italy went.
And so Germany walked back to the conference room, and fell asleep on the table. He was never dreaming. Never...
~le end flashback~
Germany felt sick. Really, truly sick. Not like he had when he had first fired the gun- when he believed that Prussia might come back when he woke up... when there was some hope left...
He kneeled down next to his bruder, tears of shock and grief escaping his eyes. Now that he thought about it, there were other times when the flow of events seemed off... Where his time line seemed slightly scrambled, when bits seemed to be missing... Now he understood why... And now Prussia was dead...