Well... Here goes guys. Anyone about to read this, this is it.
International News Report- The Soviet Union was attacked by yet another wave of soldiers. This attack consisted of, like the last few, Italians and Prussians, while on another front, Spaniards, Americans and Brits sent out an attack. On yet another front, Danes and Norwegians, scattered through with other Scandinavian brethren, have begun an attack. On the Soviet side of things, bomber planes were sent out, most of them concentrated on Prussia. The nation is receiving severe blows, casualties skyrocketing faster at home than they are in battle. The battle still rages on. While it looks like the Soviet Union is slowly falling, it is unclear as of yet on which side is winning this war.
Matthias and Lukas fought side by side, wincing each time they killed one of the Soviet soldiers. They had nothing against the poor Lithuanians that had been sent to stop their troops. They weren't as strong as their Russian slave drivers, because in all truth, the poor Baltic men were treated as such, and Matthias and Lukas both thought the fight was ridiculously unfair, weighting heavily in their favor as scores upon scores of the underfed Lithuanians were felled by their high class warriors.
With a might swing, Matthias cleaved two men in half, never having given up on using his extremely out dated ax from his Viking days. The weapon in it of it's self intimidated his enemies. That coupled with the fact that no matter how many times the man was shot he would just keep coming, terrified the men, making it all too easy to dominate the enemy forces.
Lukas too was something to see, a mighty green haze swirling around him chaotically while he also did battle with a blade. The smaller nation wasn't as resilient to being shot... when the bullets hit him. Each time one did approach him, it would be swallowed by the green haze, usually resulting in a strange, echoing roar of anger. "Matthias. Their falling back. Do we let them go?" He asked, a rumble rolling around him, coming from the haze.
"Let them go. Let them retreat. We'll send word to Gil and Feli that we've got them running." Matthias said, setting the butt of his ax down on the ground as Lukas' strange haze faded away. "You aren't hurt, are you?" He asked, carefully inspecting the small Norwegian man with a frown, protective and irritating as always.
Lukas smacked him in a head, rolling his eyes, though a ghost of a smile was on his face. "I'm fine Matthias. Just send word to Gilbert and Feliciano." He said, kissing the Danish man quickly before walking away to look for their injured.
Antonio hissed in pain as a bullet grazed across his shoulder blades. He spun and fired his gun, awkwardly and clumsily, though the bullet still hit it's mark. Arthur had insisted that the Spaniard leave his ax and use a gun instead, even though he was an inefficient marksman. He was growing rather frustrated with the whole battle as the gun jammed, again. "Aie! I hate this damned weapon!" He snarled, kneeling to try to fix it yet again. He jumped and swung the gun around to use as a club when a hand touched his shoulder, only to his Arthur in the thigh.
"Bloody hell?! That hurt, you git!" The British man swore, rubbing his thigh. He fired his gun at an approaching man, satisfied when he fell. "I was just trying to help, Anthony!" He said, dropping a well loved ax in front of the Spaniard. "Clearly the gun isn't affective for you, love. Go wreak havoc." He said with a smile as the Spaniard picked his ax up in his hands with a triumphant expression.
Antonio grinned and immediately leapt back into the battle, slashing away, leaving Arthur to laugh behind him, shooting anyone the man missed. We've got this, Gilbert. Feliciano. Hopefully you chaps are alright as well. He thought, firing his gun again.
"General Gilbert! Sir! The Resistenza is being pushed back to the wall! General Feliciano has requested you send in more troops! They're dying in droves out there!" A young soldier said, his accent marking him as either German or Prussian. The fall back wouldn't normally have been such a bad thing, but the fear with being pushed against the wall was being pushed over it. If the Soviets jumped the wall and brought about the fall of West Germany, not only would it result in a lose of the country, dissolved into Soviet territory, but it would probably kill Ludwig with how weak he was. If a nation lost their country, and were strong enough, they'd be able to continue living, but Gilbert knew his brother was far from strong. "Orders, sir?" The young officer asked, standing stiff and at attention as he addressed the higher ranking man.
"Enough of that, at ease. I will lead the last of our troops myself." The albino man said, looking determined. He didn't miss the look of genuine shock on the young man's face. Up until that point everyone had told the proud Prussian to sit out, after Ivan had started bombing hi, head been growing weak once more. It didn't help that he hadn't ever truly recovered from his time spent with Ivan in the first place. The young officer though, to his credit, didn't comment and simply nodded. "Yes sir. Shall I tell everyone to prepare to head out?" He asked, awaiting further commands.
"Ja. Go tell them to be ready to head out in twenty." Gilbert directed, getting up, hiding his pain and stiffness as he did so. He blinked in shock when the young officer Heiled. The young man could only be twenty or so. How was it that he knew? Gilbert just shook his head and held up a hand. "Bitte. None of that." He said before dismissing the now crestfallen looking man. He groaned once the man had left, rubbing at the bruises that discolored his skin. "I'm coming Luddy. Somehow we'll win.. Then I'll bring you home." He said aloud, shrugging on his Prussian blue military jacket and buttoning it up, belting on his gun and lacing up his boots. With a final look at his brother's office in the Berlin military base, he swept out of the door to go meet his troops.
"Idiota! You are aiming for the Russians, not the Latvians!" Feliciano hissed, knocking down one of his men with a shove, leveling him before he could fire at a terrified looking Latvian soldier. Gratefully, the young man scampered away into the trees, gun clutched to his chest. "We are trying to kill the Russians. No one else. If I see some stunt like that again, you'll be answering to me." Feliciano growled, before spinning around at the chillingly familiar sound. The dark laughter sent sickness, fear, and fury boiling in the Italian commander's stomach. "Ivan." He spat in a deadly tone of voice, racing to the source of the sound as he caught sight of the Russian. He had traded out his mockery of Ludwig's SS uniform for his own black and red Soviet get up.
He ran to the man, gun out, but what he found once he was in Ivan's line of sight stopped him dead in his tracks. The sounds of gunfire and the screams of the dying faded around him, ceasing to register in his brain, as painfully familiar cerulean eyes gazed up at him, sunken into a sickly, battered face. The face was attached to a man, chained to a flogging post that appeared to be freshly staked into the ground. Had he not seen the man's eyes first, he wouldn't have been able to believe this horribly weak person was his Ludwig. "Ludwig..." He whispered, glaring up at Ivan, who only smiled triumphantly, holding a gun to the German's temple. No one had seen the Russian since the beginning of the war, and now here he was, mere meters from Feliciano, and he couldn't do anything about it. Ivan wouldn't hesitate to shoot Ludwig, and he knew it.
"Don't be moving any closer, or I will be shooting your little Luddy in the head. If I shoot him, I can promise you he won't be coming back because you will be broken, and Gilbert will be broken, and my Soviets will dissolve Germany. His nation will fall if you move any closer." Ivan threatened, looking positively serious and triumphant. "You are not wanting that, da? Call off your little Resitenza, Italian. They're annoying my poor Soviets. Send them all home. They are having no hope of winning against me anyway. You and I, and your firends as well, can all be going to my house, we'll be writing up a treaty saying I won't be touching any of you, and in return you will all be leaving Ludwig with me, and will be giving me his land when he dies. We can all be forgetting about this, da?" Ivan asked brightly, thriving off all of the suffering around him. Every scream of the dying and shriek of the maimed sent a shiver of joy through him, strengthened even further when they came from a Prussian or Italian throat.
Feliciano vibrated with indignation, snarling something incomprehensible in Italian, rapid fire to the point each word slurred together with the next. With deadly eyes he took a step forward, only to freeze again with a shriek as Ivan giggled and pulled the trigger of his gun, a bullet shooting into Ludwig's skull with a sickening sound, blood trickling down his temple as his head, blonde hair matted with grim and gore, fell forward limply, lolling uselessly. "YOU BASTARD!" He screeched, glued to the spot as he watched Ludwig's blood fall on the ground. The man couldn't be dead! Not after all of this! He could... Come on Luddy. Lift up your head. You can't die... YOU CAN'T DIE! He internally screamed, tears running in torrents down his face. "I can't call of the Resistenza. Not when Gilbert is coming to get you out of Germany." He choked out, clutching Ludwig's iron cross that hung around his neck, his courage and determination quickly fading the longer Ludwig didn't move.
Ivan growled, looking furious at Feliciano's refusal, not having expected it after shooting Ludwig in the head. He advanced on the small Italian, only to have a force come at him from behind, knocking him to the ground. The raging albino man pinned Ivan to the ground, his bruised, translucent skin looking even more mottled as more of his people died. With fury in his crimson eyes he brought his fists down on the Russian's face, beating in the man's nose and coating his face in a deep scarlet. "FICK YOU! THAT'S MEIN BRUDER!" He snarled, bringing his fist down to connect with the man's face again.
With a dark laugh Ivan threw Gilbert off of him, sending the weakened albino man flying through the air. "Gilbert! I've been waiting for you, da?" He said with a grin, momentarily distracted by his most hated enemy. He brought a hand up to his gushing nose and got back to his feet, stalking over to where Gilbert lay on his back, coughing violently. "What's the matter, Gil Still clinging to your country as it dies?" He said with a giggle, planning to kick the man in his ribs, but to his surprise the man rolled into him, knocking him to the ground again.
Gilbert's breath wheezed in his throat, but he got to his feet with his gun in his hand and he fired three shots into the man's chest. "Just stay down!" He snarled, moving toward his brother only to be knocked to the ground as Ivan got up and moved after him. He yelped in pain as his bruised skin bashed against the ground. The Russian stood over him then, pulling a rope from in his jacket and binding Gilbert's arms behind him at an awkward angle, making the albino flinch. Each time he moved the bones popped until he thought they were being popped out of place. He rolled towards the Russian as he moved away, only to scream in pain as his arm dislocated. "Wait. Ivan wait!" He panted, teeth gritted against the pain. "Wait... Ivan I have a new compromise for you." He said in a suddenly defeated voice, his heart shattering in his chest.
"Oh? What are you planning, Prussian?" He asked with amusement in his lavender eyes. He knelt beside his enemy, ignoring Feliciano and Ludwig behind him. "Tell me of your plans. Though just be remembering that there is very little you can do that would make me be giving you your precious little brother back." He said with a dark smirk. Why was he even trying to listen to what the Prussian had to say?
:If... If you give me Ludwig... And if you leave them all alone..." Gilbert trailed off, tears in his eyes as he curled in around himself, more to hold himself together than to try to ease his pain. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this! He had to do this. "I will give you full control of Prussia." He whispered, feeling himself break inside. Prussia was his nation. His home. Prussia was him. To give that up scared him and nearly made him violently ill. Most people that lost their nations faded from existence after being sick of loneliness. As they faded, the others forgot about them, ignored them in meetings, not to be unkind but because slowly the world forgot about the collapsed societies. The idea of being forgotten by all of his friends... Luddy will never forget me. Elizabeta won't either... I'll make myself so obnoxious they have no choice but to notice me... He thought before taking a shaky breath and meeting Ivan's eyes. "My terms are you let my brother leave with me, you surrender to Feliciano and go home, and you leave everyone who fought against you alone. No one else is to be harmed from this incident. You do all that, I'll give you Prussia. My nation, my... my world." He said softly, internally warring against himself. This was the only way to end this. Strangely enough it reminded him of re-teaching his brother everything there was to know about being a country, only this time as "Germany," instead of "The Holy Roman Empire."
Luddy. What are you going to call your nation? All nations have to have a name." Gilbert said to the small, blue eyed boy in his arms. He internally cried at the sight of the boy with his head wrapped in a blood stained linen cloth, but as Ludwig frowned in serious concentration, he smiled at the young German and kissed his temple with a soft chuckle. "Well don't hurt yourself bruderchen. You don't have to pick now."
"Germany. I want it to be called Germany." He said, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he looked up at his brother. Despite his injuries, and not remembering anything about his life before the war and Francis, his blue eyes shown with happiness and love. It hadn't taken him long at all to warm up to Gilbert, and every once in a while he would say something that made Gilbert hopeful that he would remember some day. They were always simple. He had picked up on calling Gilbert "bruderlein" again, and he brought Gilbert a cornflower, saying it was his favorite. Simple things, though they warmed Gilbert's heart when he felt discouraged about teaching Ludwig over again.
"Germany? Like Germania? Hmmm... It fits you bruder." Gilbert said after a moment, turning the name over in his brain. The grin that broke out across Ludwig's face made him smile and he hugged the little boy tightly. "Germany... Such a strong sounding name... I like it." He said, resting his forehead against Ludwig's, causing the boy to giggle.
"Ja! Just like Germania! I remember a little bit about him, a few of the stories about him. He was the greatest nation ever, except for maybe Ancient Rome.' Ludwig said, cerulean eyes bright with excitement.
"How is it you can remember stories about those grumpy nations, but you can't remember your awesome bruderchen?" Gilbert teased, his crimson eyes soft and affection as he pulled the boy to his chest and rested his chin on top of his head.
Ludwig rested his head against Gilbert's chest, listening to his brother's heart beat as he did so, a frown etched onto his face and the light dying in his eyes. He sniffled softly, clinging to his brother with a soft sob. He didn't like hurting his brother. "I don't know... Es tut mir leid, bruderlein... I want to remember you... Really I do!" He wailed, burying his face in Gilbert's chest as he quaked with shuddering sobs.
Gilbert looked startled and his arms tightened around the sobbing boy, reassuring and comforting. "Don't you worry about it Luddy. You remember just enough to know to trust me and to love me. You'll remember everything someday, I promise. Until then, I'll just have to protect you and help you learn. I'd kill and go to war for you, liebling. I have killed and gone to war for you." He said with a loving smile, running his fingers through his little brother's hair as he clung to him, crying softly. "It's my job as a nation and, more importantly, as your alter bruderchen. I sometimes have sacrifices to make... I may not always like them and sometimes they can be the hardest thing I have to do, but if they keep you safe, I'll give up anything." Gilbert said, his eyes growing sad and distant as he remembered everything he had given up in his life for this boy. A relationship with the girl he loved, suffering through wars and injuries, losing sleep during storms to comfort him, just doing everything he could to keep him safe.
Ludwig lifted his head, frowning at his brother's sudden sadness. He snuggled into his chest and sighed. "Danke bruder... For everything you've done for me, even all the stuff I don't remember... Ich liebe dich." He said, yawning softly. He drifted off to sleep when Gilbert didn't respond right away, still resting against his chest.
"Oh bruder... Ich liebe dich auch." Gilbert said with a small smile and a sigh, kissing the boy's temple as he slept.
Gilbert shook the memory off before tears could run down his pale cheeks. I've failed at keeping you safe, bruderchen... He thought, taking in his brother's unconscious state. Blood still slowly trickled from the side of his brother's head, there were scars, bruises and gashes covering ever inch of his body, his entire torso exposed to the world. His rib cage looked caved in, his sternum too. Tearing his gaze from Ludwig's tortured for he fixed his fiery crimson eyes on Ivan, demanding a response.
"I am...liking the plan." Ivan said slowly, a dark, victorious expression on his face. "You take your brother and your troops with the Resistenza... And you are giving me Prussia, officially, now." He demanded, eyes narrowing on Gilbert.
Feliciano made no move to stop Gilbert as he bowed his head and renounced his claims on his land. The albino's body glowed brightly, the white light blinding as it enveloped him, before flashing out and transferring into Ivan. At first, the Russian grinned, though after a minute e let out a scream of pain, falling to his knees as he absorbed all of Gilbert's pain. He took on the grand nation's hardships, hatreds, pains, and problems. The ravaged, bombed land that was Prussia caused Ivan's skin to become discolored, a patchwork of bruises, similar to Gilbert's. The Russian visibly weakened as more and more of Gilbert's suffering swelled inside of him, until he actually began sweating blood, the crimson substance glittered on his skin. He shivered violently and screamed again. How did Gilbert deal with such strong, damaging amounts of pain?
Gilbert sobbed violent, shuddering sobs, feeling empty and completely alone as he lost the bright feeling of lives inside of him. The feeling being stripped of his nation had left him with was devastating and freeing at the same time. He hadn't felt so empty since Ludwig had lost his memory, but at the same time he had never felt so free of pain. Sure his skin was still mottled and bruised, but all that was left of his pain was a dull ache. Of course, that was only counting physical pain. Emotionally he was a wreck.
Ivan writhed on the ground for a while longer until he went still. His body shutting down to protect Russia as it fought to control Prussia and all it's problems. Gilbert watched Ivan's suffering, feeling almost sympathetic for him, knowing what he was feeling. He had lived with it for the better part of four centuries, to so degree or another. After a minute though he got to his feet and walked to Feliciano, turning wordlessly for him to cut the rope binding his arms behind him. As soon as he was free of the ropes he lurched forward and undid Ludwig's chains before pulling his brother to him, and pressing his lips to the man's bloodied temple.
"Gott.. Gott Luddy... Bruder es tut mir leid... I am so sorry." Gilbert whispered, gingerly hugging the broken man to him. "I am so sorry..." He breathed, tears streaming freely down his face. "Ich liebe dich. I love you so much bruder... Come back..." He begged, an old German song coming to his lips, something he sang in a soft, trembling voice, afraid that he'd have gone through all of that just to have his brother die, but then... A cheer rang across the clearing as the Soviets fled, all of them jubilant at winning. The Germans especially were excited at the victory, knowing that meant they were free of the Russians. Their energy spread quickly and filled Ludwig with energy. Though his body was ridiculously weak, it began to heal before Gilbert's eyes. The proud Prussian laughed weakly in relief as pale blue eyes opened, meeting his crimson ones. Tears cascaded down Gilbert's face at the sight of his brother's beautiful eyes and he ran his finger's through the man's hair. "You're safe." He whispered softly, pulling Ludwig to him.
Feliciano sat before the two brothers, watching as Gilbert smoothed Ludwig's hair eyes full of brotherly love. "Thank you, Gilbert." He whispered softly, unable to meet the usually proud nation, that is, ex-nation's crimson eyes. "I'm sorry this resulted in such a big sacrifice on your part... If I could change what happened I would..." He said, biting the inside of his lip.
"Nein... Don't apologize..." Gilbert whispered back, glancing up at Feliciano for a moment, not able to tear his eyes from his brother from much longer than that. His voice was exhausted, defeated, but there was something in it that let Feliciano know hat man would be ok. "As a nation... There are sometimes sacrifices... I may not always like them... And they may be hard..." Fresh tears streamed down the albino's face, blinding him. His voice grew less and less audible as he held his self together by a thread, tying to keep from completely breaking down on the blood stained battle field. "But... They are sometimes necessary... This... Losing Prussia... Kept the people I love safe... That's all that matters to me." He whispered, near silent as he sat there with his brother.
Feliciano nodded and sighed, getting to his feet. As much as he wanted to stay there with them, be there when Ludwig was awake enough for him to talk to, he knew that he should leave them alone for a moment. He resolved to go gather his troops and Gilbert's and send them off to their respected places. Would Gilbert's soldiers go back to Prussia... Or Germany? He frowned and shrugged, deciding to send them into Germany until Gilbert could deal with them. With a last glance back at the brothers, he moved away, leaving them alone.
As soon as Feliciano was out of sight, Gilbert's silent crying turned into soft sobs as he clutched his brother to him, careful not to hurt him. He cried for his Prussia and the nearly ruined Germany. He cried for his time at Ivan's and for his brother's injuries. He cried for the empty loneliness he felt and for the strange feeling of not having pain inside him. He cried for the lose of the innocent boy he had raised and for the monstrous side his brother had had to develop to put up with his dictator. But, mostly he cried in relief that it was finally all over. He was going to be able to stay with his brother. I'd dissolve Prussia a thousand times over, just so long as I can keep my brother with me. He thought, jumping as a terribly weak hand brushed tears from his cheek.
"G-Gilbert..." Ludwig whispered, a wobbly, loving smile on his face. "You w-won D-Does..." He trailed off with a wince and a soft yelp as a bone inside him somewhere popped back into place as he healed. "Does th-that mean I can... I can go h-home" He asked, voice shaky and whispering, so quiet Gilbert had to lean in close to hear him.
A shaken smile spread across Gilbert's face in answer as he dared to hug Ludwig tighter. "Thank Gott... I..." His smile grew a teasing edge to it as he chuckled weakly. "I don't have to piece your memory back together." Despite the attempts at teasing, his voice sounded hollow. "Yes... We won." In a way. He said, finishing the thought in his head. "We can go home, bruder. I promise. Ivan won't hurt us anymore" He promised, pressing his face into his brother's hair.
"How can you promise that? Did.. Did you kill him?" Ludwig whispered, sounding impressed and horrified all at the same time. He forced his voice as loud as he could manage, though Gilbert still had to strain to hear him. Gilbert wished he hadn't.
The albino stiffened, holding back fresh tears as he met his brother's eyes. "Nein... Nein bruder... I didn't kill him. I... I gave him Prussia bruder. I gave him Prussia to keep him from killing you."
"N-N-Nein... Oh... Oh Gil you... Y-You didn't. Nein... Not... Not to him." Ludwig whispered, his voice echoing his brother's grief and pain. "You... You should have let him kill me." He said in even softer a voice than before, guilt coursing through him. It was all his fault. He should have fought against his dictator. He should have fought against the wall being put up. He should have... Done something! Now his brother had lost his nation and it was all his fault.
Gilbert's crimson eyes flashed with anger and sorrow. "Nein!" He growled, both afraid of and angry with the idea his brother had voiced. "And it isn't your fault. I see the guilt in your eyes bruderchen. It isn't your fault. We all make mistakes. All of us." He said, trying to banish the ideas that plagued his brother. "I'd give it up again for you. You are my bruder before you are anything else to me. It is my job to protect you. If that means giving up my nation, then that's what I'll do. If that means dying in your place, that's what I'll do. If that means leaving you, that's what I'll do. I don't regret anything. And... Feli would have been crushed if you'd have died. You should have heard how pissed he was when we all went to talk to that verdammt communist bastard. I have never seen him be threatening to anything stronger than a pasta noodle... I never would have thought he had it in him to declare war on anyone, let alone the entirety of the Soviet Union." He said, looking down at his brother with a half hearted grin. That he was able to manage that much of a smile was a surprise in it of his self when all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry.
"My... My Feli declared war on Ivan?" Ludwig whispered, blue eyes looking skeptical. Feliciano Vargas, one of the least military inclined nations in the world, declared war on one of the world's powerhouses to save him? He jumped when a familiar giggle sounded behind him, tired but warm.
Feliciano walked into view, a smile on his face. "I'll tell you the story when we get home." He promised, shrugging as though it wasn't a big deal.
"Not until after we get you cleaned up Luddy. I don't like the looks of your chest... Or your ribs... We'll see if Elizabeta can help set your ribs... I have no ficken idea what we are going to do about your chest... What did he do? Mein Gott..." He said, sound exasperated as his "older brotherness" kicked in.
"Eliza? Why is Elizabeta at my..." Ludwig just sighed and shook his head. He had missed so much. "Another story for later I guess." He said, frowning as Gilbert lifted him in his arms "I can walk, bruder." He said mildly, though didn't press the matter when Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him."
"You're kidding me, right? You can't walk. It's fine bruder." Gilbert said, rolling his eyes. So he had lost Prussia, but he had Elizabeta waiting for him to come back and his brother, even if said brother looked like hell. Ludwig would recover. Who needed to be a nation to be awesome? Life may be a bit different, but it'd still be awesome. He had everything that was still important after all, and that's all that mattered.
And so I am one of those writers people hate who end their stories like this, leaving the true ending up to my readers' imagination. All that is important is they are together again. Hopefully this ending was acceptable and thanks to those who stuck with me and read it all the way through. :)