Disclaimer-Isn't it obvious by now i dont own Hetalia?
Note- thank you for all the wonderful reviews, this story even got excepted into a community! I've spotted some art work as well on DA. Here we are the last chapter and the end of this story. Thank you for baring with my grammar. I have gone back and edited details and worked out some kinks that were in earlier chapters, so if you ever re-read you may notice some differences. This is maybe the darkest chapter. To be honest I don't think I've finished a story in damn near ... 5 years XD so this is quiet unusual, I'm not sure if the ending is going to be any good or not because I've almost never written an ending. I tried to capture the sheer chaos of the end of the war. Enjoy and please R&R
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The florescent lights cast dark shadows unto Ludwig's features as he paced the floor. It had taken quite an effort from the staff to restrain the man who's blood still was saturated with adrenaline. The mud and dirt had begun to crust on skin, his clothing clung to his frame and exaggerated every twist of his muscles. Feliciano watched, his eyes shaded with bags, hair frayed and knotted. His eyes traced Ludwig's shadow, rather than watch the man fret like a caged animal. The man who drove Feliciano sat next to him with his arms crossed and eyes down.
"Thank you," Feliciano whispered, the man just shook his head and leaned close to Feliciano.
"I should be thanking Ludwig... A while back he was in my brother's store and caught him hiding Jews. He could have had them all killed and investigate our family... We would've all been killed, we all hid someone. Catholics, Jews, gypsies, the gays... When my brother told me Ludwig let him go, I asked for a description and immediately knew it was Ludwig. I had seen the little boy and his father in the post office before, but I didn't know he was such an important man. He should be the one leading our nation. His heart is what Germany is, not this wretched leadership." The man said. Ludwig snorted and turned toward the stranger.
"First I would like to thank you for all the help you have given us. Second, ever since I was knocked from power and used like a whore I've been damaged so me leading the nation is not an option... But I will be blamed for everything... Don't worry." Ludwig breathed deep, trying to contain himself. "You should probably leave sir... I caused a lot of commotion at the camps, I am sure they will come for me." He said. The man stood up and walked toward Ludwig. He stood in front of his pacing track, forcing the taller man to look into his eyes.
"I am proud to be German, I will forever be proud... I am just not proud for this. I see you, I see what should have been... And then what was..." The man wiped his eyes, and sniffed. Ludwig unconsciously stepped back. Was he crying? The man quickly recomposed himself and gave a polite nod.
"You may want to gather your family and head deep into the country. Arm yourselves and hide..."
"What?"
"You heard me... That is an order civilian." Ludwig's voice was low, commanding. Feliciano sighed at his tone. It had been a long time since Ludwig was the one giving commands. It was almost comforting to hear his authoritative directions again. The man, without question, turned and left. The talons of the storm rushed in when the door opened. Nature itself clawing to get at Ludwig. The man pulled his coat over his head and shut the door behind him. The roar of the heavens died down and the sounds of machines and hurried feet once again were the music of their surroundings. Ludwig continued his self loathing pacing, his eyes bright with hate.
ooooooooooooooooo
A nurse approached them with towels and a sponge. Her path was aimed for Ludwig, but she detoured to Feliciano after getting a glimpse of his wild eyes.
"For you and your friend. There is wash room down the hall you can clean up in before you see the child, doctor's orders." She said,
"I can see him? He's okay?" Ludwig took only two large steps before invading the nurse's comfort zone. She stepped back, curling away.
"Yes, yes, the doctor will see you first, but please wash." She wrinkled her nose when she smelled the river on Ludwig. Handing the towels to Feliciano she scurried away. Without wasting a moment, Ludwig grabbed a towel and ran down the hall. Feliciano stood to follow, but dropped the sponges. His hands gathering them as he tried to keep up. The wash items became a balled mess by the time he caught up with Ludwig.
The washroom was perhaps the most obvious indication that the building was never intended to hospital use. While the rest was set up nice enough to give the illusion, this room looked more like a prison cell or where one would wash animal carcasses for butchering. The cement floor had a drain in the center. One light fixture in the ceiling that flickered wildly before providing a steady light. The walls were stained brown, damp from lack of ventilation. The smell of mold plaguing the room. Two hoses were attached to facets the sprung from the ground. The odd design made Feliciano uneasy, but Ludwig paid no mind to it and began to rid himself of his clothing. The pipes gurgled and hissed out air before spitting water out. Ludwig clean his clothing first, taking off everything but his boots. He worked his socks off one at a time and seemed to avoid touching the floor. Feliciano stood in awe, shocked at Ludwig's body.
Grant it, Feliciano had been the one who was always naked but it wasn't hard to catch a glimpse of Ludwig fresh from the shower, or trace the sweat drenched shirts around his body to get the sense of strength he held. But before him, was not a man with presence anymore. His back, once well muscled with browned skin from laboring in the garden was now broken out in bloody sores that trailed along his vertebra like markers on a map. Scratch marks from where he had ripped at them trailed along his sides. The once thick boned ribs that had been wrapped in muscle now stretched his taut flesh with every breath. His spine shook under his own weight as he squatted to wash his clothing. The massive muscles in his legs has begun to waste away and now were twitching in agony. Ludwig felt Feliciano's stare pressing against him.
"You best wash if you wish to see Leos," He said. Feliciano snapped from his trance and unbuttoned his shirt, hanging it on the door handle. His facet whined and groaned, spitting out some rusty water before running clear. He rinsed his boots off and washed the mud from his hair and face. Ludwig glanced over at his friend. The man's spine curled to get his head beneath the water, every bone stretching through the skin. His long torso was whittled to not much thicker than Ludwig's fist. His muscle long drained of proper nutrition, the bones in his arms were mere places for the remains to rest. The tendons rippling beneath his olive skin were obviously straining to do the simplest task of washing his face. Ludwig's chest felt heavy and he looked away. He splashed some water on his face, hiding his tears. Retrieving a towel he dried himself and wrapped it around his waist. He tossed the other to Feliciano, who had dragged half of it on the floor before gathering it up.
"Ludwig..." Feliciano whispered. His eyes drifted along his friend's body. Ludwig knew what Feliciano wanted to say. Through his damp bangs, the blond man returned the gesture of sorrow.
"Come, Leos needs us..."
The nurse took Ludwig's clothing and gave him some clothe pants and a shirt. He wrinkled face and dipped mouth made her appear like a prudent sort. She moved quickly and precisely, ever bit of paper and tags had a system. After gathering what she needed she handed it over to Ludwig.
"These are copies of the records. In case something happens to ours, we have been giving them out to the patients." She said. They knew what was going to happen, all of the staff. Ludwig headed back toward his chair in the corner, but just as his tired hind met the wooden seat a male voice called for him. With a groan he pulled himself back up. Feliciano shadowed him.
"Ludwig?"
"Yes Doctor," He answered. The doctor was older, his flesh spotted with marks of age and facial bones protruding. His back was in the early stages of curling.
"Follow me please," He asked. Ludwig's stomach began to boil with anxiety, every groan and click of a door was like gunfire to his ears. Feliciano was nearly stepping on his heels, refusing to look at anything but Ludwig's back. After a short trip down the hall, the doctor stopped and turned to look at the men.
"I must warn you, he is very fragile. He has lost some blood and looks very pale."
"What happened?" Ludwig asked the doctor but Feliciano responded
"He just grabbed unto me... That look in his eyes... Terror, as if he saw the devil. Then he went limp and I couldn't find a pulse or anything."
"You friend was right to rush him here... His heart rate was dangerously low. He seems to have massive internal bleeding. Blood is still leaking from his body in any way it can. After such massive hemorrhaging, his heart stopped. We have gotten him stable. We have blood going to him but I fear if the internal bleeding does not stop, he isn't going to survive. Not with his advanced starvation... I must ask, how did he get so thin?"
"He has a history of being very sick... But not like this," Ludwig remained composed, "After such a long time he got weaker and thinner..."
"I see... Well your friend made the right choice to bring him here... Most places now would turn him away... But..." The doctor cracked the door a bit, his eyes falling on his patient. "There is something strange about him. Perhaps if I can help him it will make up for the rest...hmpf, anyway, you may see him if you wish." He opened the door for them, his eyes cast to the floor.
Ludwig's pupils has drawn back into his skull. His lower lip tugged against his jaw muscles, fighting to quiver. He brought his clutched hands to his chest and walked gingerly on the floor as if he was going to sneak past a guard. Buried in a grave of blankets and hoses was his son. The blood that ran into him was connected in one arm while the other dripped clear fluids. A pump hissed and groaned, aiding his struggling lungs. His tiny nostrils flared, tiny specks of blood flecking from his breath. Some blood crusted from his lip to his chin, worn away from the elastic band that shifted with each labored breath. His eyes lay half open, unresponsive to light and glazed over. Ludwig stood frozen for a moment.
"Can... Is it ok if... I?" His tongue refused to work in his dry mouth.
"He can hear you, you can touch him just be delicate around the equipment... I'll leave you be for a moment..." The doctor said. Ludwig waited for the door to shut and the footsteps of the doctor to fade.
Feliciano watched as his friends shivering hands cupped his son's face. His side jerking with unsteady breath. A shallow, mournful, ululation cracked from the man's throat as bowed his head low. Brushing his strong cheek against his boy's, the cold and loose flesh of the child was like a block of ice against his face. The mountain of covers did little to warm him, the hollow sound of oxygen forcefully pumped into empty lungs whistled in Ludwig's ear. His mouth dried up, throat begging for moisture, his body pleaded for him break and cry. Ludwig refused, hold back demotions for fear Leos would hear.
"Shhhhhh," He soothed, "It's okay my son," His voice was barely a whisper, even Feliciano strained to hear. "My child, my baby, my son... shhhhhh, Papa's here... Papa is going to make everything better..." His body numb from pain, Ludwig rocked gently. Leos' eyebrows twitched slightly, but Ludwig did not see. His deep voice began to cried softly to a tune. Slightly startled by this Feliciano leaned in closer. For a moment, he thought Ludwig had finally crumbled. Softly signing a war march, perhaps the only songs he new by heart now, to his dying son was not what Feliciano had predicted of him. The Italian bowed his head and stared at the floor, unable to look upon the sight anyone longer.
Ludwig stomach dropped, fear crawled through his flesh and he was suddenly alert. Something was coming. He stayed still, listening to the world around him. He hear a clicking, steady but fast. Boots.
"Feliciano, in the closet."
"Wha-"
"In the closet now," Ludwig ordered. The small man slipped into the storage closet. Staying a quiet as he could, Feliciano situated himself among the objects. Now the sound that Ludwig heard Feliciano could hear. A group, the boots the same noise Ludwig's made when he would rush out the door for training. The door burst open, cracking against the wall. Ludwig's heart jump up against his ribs at the noise. Removing his hold on his son immediately moved to the end of the bed, his stance wide and aggressive.
The man who had scolded him from across the desk early that morn was flanked by a small number of soldiers baring guns. His face twisted to conceal his joy as he looked at a weak Ludwig. In the background a struggle could be heard, ordering the intruders out of the hospital. Ludwig stared him down, a mental battle ensued for a moment. Ludwig's brilliant eyes shimmering with hate and a bloodlust never seen before. The officer was the one to break contact first, looking at his men.
"You, Ludwig, caused a tremendous uproar... Committed an act of treason against your people..." He began to walk as he rattled out Ludwig's offenses. "Abandoned your duties, destroyed government property, stole a car, assault, and yet..." He stopped to fold his arms across his chest and stared him down again. "Here we are, in a worse predicament then before..." He turned his back and walked to side of a young solider.
"Kill him," He ordered. The young man raised his gun, the barrel trembling as it aimed for Ludwig's chest. His brow sweating and skin drained of color. Ludwig froze, surrounded with no escape he surrendered to what primitive instinct his brain commanded. His chest rumbled with a threatening sound, hands curling and ready to defend. The young man's finger twitched on the trigger.
"No," He whispered. The gun lowered to the floor, "I can't sir..." The officer's face went red, his fist came to the side of his insubordinate man's head.
"You will do your duty or be killed yourself!"
"No!" He shouted back. With the butt of his gun he slammed his superior in face. He fell back and the young man wasted no time in pinning him to the floor and slamming his skull against the ground. The other soldiers stepped back, unwilling to help their commander. Blood splattered with every crack, the young man screamed insanity as he attacked. Ludwig's mind finally switched on again, he ran to the solider and began to pull him off.
"Calm down!" He ordered, the man would not hear him. His fingers reached desperately to rip at the face of the officer. His voice high and stressed, cracking with his screams to let him go. The Officer was silent and still. Ludwig managed to pull the man back far enough to settle him. The stranger he restrained in his arms was silent for a moment before realizing what he had done. Shivering on Ludwig he feel to his knees and began to cry.
"Take his body out of here and have someone clean this up..." Ludwig ordered. Then men easily complied with him, dragging their once leader out with faces half curled in delight. Ludwig urged the weeping man to follow his peers with a gentle push.
ooooooooooooooooooo
After the fight Feliciano slipped from his closet after everyone had left and took his place my Ludwig's side and Leos' bed. Ludwig did not let go of his son, whether it was brushing his fair hair or soothingly rubbing his paper thin flesh, not a second without contact. After some time of quietness, Feliciano rested his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Ludwig... What can we do?" The sounds of gunfire and warfare were drawing close. The setting sun was inflamed and bleeding into the sky, tinting the room. Ludwig's face was in shadows, obscuring his eyes. In the far corner of the room were the soldiers, huddled around a small radio that was tuned into an English channel. The static muffled speak was full of enthusiasm. Feliciano's former boss had been butchered, his body displayed for all to see as they paraded it in the Italian square where he was executed. Word had spread that the Russians, Americans, and British were all within Germany, in Berlin, hunting. The government stopped communications, not a word from Ludwig's boss. Some of his superiors had already been found dead or captured.
Is anyone in control anymore? Ludwig though, Yes... Me... He opened his sealed eyes. His fragile child in front him, struggling to breath. Each cough was full of blood, lungs gurgling with fluids. He looked to Feliciano, the smaller man looked distressed but looked up to him with eager and bright eyes. For a moment, he had been completely at a loss for what his expression meant.
He has hope... He believes in me still... Ludwig faced forward and stood up.
"Feliciano..." His voice was deep again, "Grab a sheet and a crutch from the closet." His command was firm, like he was in training again. Feliciano did as he was told, taking the top, blood splattered, sheet of Leos' and then diving into the closet. Ludwig took one last look at his son, before sighing deep, as if bracing himself for something.
This needs to end... He thought. Suddenly he leaned over his son and ripped the mask from his face. The oxygen hissing into the room instead of the child. At first, Leos' body shivered in protest, heaving without it. His father then began to disconnect the blood, the fluids, any tube that was violating his son's veins. Leos showed the first bit of life when he weakly squeaked in pain as the needles were yanked from him. Feliciano was planted in place, horrified. The soldiers too were drawn by the commotion and watched as Ludwig severed the life lines to his son. With one large sweep, Ludwig had Leos cradled in his arm and began to exit. The boy's limp body had little weight to it and his limbs flopped with each of his father's long strides. Feliciano followed with the sheet and crutch.
The doctor's face dropped when Ludwig came around the corner. Before he could open his lips, Ludwig's eyes silenced him. He backed down and let Ludwig pass, the soldiers naturally in formation behind him.
Outside the air tasted bitter with ash, blood and metal. The sun was just rising, the sky flashing a brilliant hue across the land. The storms had pasted and in their wake was a ravaged earth. The hand of God had scorched trees and earth alike. The river hemorrhaged debris into the banks. The sounds of heavy machines and gunfire were close enough for Ludwig to worry abut getting struck with a stray bullet. He looked to the north, standing as tall as he could muster and began to walk to once scenic edges that view the beaches. As Feliciano followed he finally realized what was about to take place. His nimble fingers quickly cinched a knot in the stained blanket, attaching it to the crutch.
Ludwig walked closer and closer to the edge, the soldiers had stopped a few meters, but their leader did not halt. Feliciano ventured a bit further until he too felt too close for comfort.
"Ludwig!" Feliciano cried out, the blond's boots stopped right on the edge of the earth, stray pebbles plummeted to the shores below. For a moment, Ludwig's mind was proud they had built in such a strategic location. Feliciano stiffened, watching his friend remain still for a moment. A harsh chopping sound echoed around. Instantly the soldiers brought their guns up. From the cliffs soared vertically a steal mass.
The helicopter stared down Ludwig, a shine blinding him from one of the doors and silhouette standing against the bright sky. America glared down at him, hanging precariously from the machine, as if he would lunge from it to grab the other nation. Looking into the horizon flocks of planes gathered and made their way toward the shores. From the sea rose whales of painted metal, his own creations now birthing dozens of allied troops. Ships glided along to meet them, arming the coast. The troop treading the water until reaching land and charged forth as if there was an enemy in front of them. Ludwig squeezed his son and looked at Feliciano. His eyes giving the command. With a broad swipe of the arms, Feliciano fought the winds of the helicopter to bring the makeshift flag into the sky. The soldiers behind dropped their weapons and held their hands up. Ludwig felt a twitch in his arms, the boy began to stir. His face twisting in agony from a noise. His tiny fingers clawed at his father's chest, dragging himself closer to the warm.
The dirt and rocks flung into the air and pelted against their skin as the helicopter lowered. Ludwig tilted Leos in toward his chest to guard him from the debris. The force from the wind was whipping poorly wrapped bandages off the child. The one that had been covering his head was so damp from blood it had no traction and was the first to whisk away. The wound looked as if the skin just burst open through his temple. Like a gun shot. It had begun to crust over with scab but began bleeding again from being disturbed. Ludwig felt the shadow of the allied machine over him. He refused to look up again and instead stayed glued to his writhing son.
Finally, his eyes opened, his haunting irises bright with agony. His face however, calmed at the sight of Ludwig.
"Papa..." Though his meek voice was unheard over the roar of chopping blades, his lips and smile could be read. Ludwig held the tiny boy to his chest and rested his head against Leos'.
"Ludwig!" Feliciano shouted and the blond felt someone latch unto his shirt and yank him back. He took the blow of the fall but crushed Leos against himself so tight the child squeal in pain. The helicopter slammed down where he had been standing. Feliciano still had his friend's shirt between his fingers.
Though nearly crushing Ludwig, the pilot had no sympathy and casually strolled out.
"England..." Ludwig muttered. He looked up to Feliciano. His face was surprisingly firm, fear was in his eyes but the smaller man seemed to be firmly planted by his friend's side. England's green eyes boiled with hate as he looked down at his enemy.
"England,"
"Shut your mouth," He ordered, "Your our little problem child now aren't you?" His boot slammed down on Ludwig's foot. The German's face did not so much as twitch as the weight of the other man stressed his bones. England's eyes fell unto the tiny child. This Ludwig snarled and turned his boy away.
"That is the child is it not?... The people?..." England waited for a response, but Ludwig's lips were tightly pressed against each other.
"Take the child," England commanded. A group of allied troops gathered around him,
"No!" Ludwig stood but they grabbed unto him. Feliciano wrestled between them, pleading for them to stop. One of the men raised their guns and a crack echoed. Feliciano froze for a moment, checking himself for pain. The other troops as well were caught off guard by their comrades actions. In the mayhem Ludwig twisted free and began to run. His body was nearly concealed by the shadow's of the forests when he saw a shadow. Skidding to a halt he backed up liked a frightened horse would, his head high and eyes wide. Leos was quivering his arms, tiny limbs wrapped around his father and dug into his back. From the blond's side was a dark stain that stretched out and run down his legs. Ludwig began to limp to the side, as the shadows emerged. A shimmering metallic gleam contrasted the dark forest. Ludwig knew instantly who it was and closed his eyes.
The slow, heel to toe foot steps were sharp. He would almost hear his lips coil up into a smirk.
"My my running away Germany?" That joyous tone made Ludwig gut knot itself and roll into the lowest part of his body. "Eh? You look like a little frightened deer Germany! What are you so scared of? You know, if you do what we say it will just make your life easier. Really a much more civil solution..." Ludwig opened his eyes, vision blurred with tears. Ivan stood calmly, resting on his pipe, a smile from cheek to cheek. His men behind him seemed to be at work already setting up a place to rest. Surrounded on all sides with the hospital behind him, Ludwig tried to figure an escape of some sort. His mind hatched a wild fantasy of fighting his way through, rallying the last soldiers of Germany and leading a victorious battle against the Allies.
But as beautiful as his mind made it seem, his logic came back to him. What choices did he have? Resist and get injured? Killed? And Leos taken anyway? Or hand him over? What would his pride allow him to do? Neither option was right. His head turned from each side, Russian to English and then back. Feliciano was still stiff with fear, watching for Ludwig's response.
"You... Don't hurt him." He ordered to England,
"You are in no position to make any requests Germany." England responded, "Now step down." His voice was enraged, the cuts and bruises on the small man's faces proved his own suffering. Ludwig knelt, the pain in his side rushed up. He hissed in agony as he set his son on the ground. His large hands enfolding the bony digits of the child. He hesitated for a moment.
"I love you... I love you so much..."
"Papa, please," Leos squeaked when he felt his hand exposed to the bitter air.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Ludwig paced his cage like a distraught lion, his cell guarded by one Russian who watched amusingly as he panicked. Feliciano was sitting on bench, head in his lap with hands over his ears. The hospital had been quickly taken over and within minutes they wielded bars up to make a makeshift prison. Only they, however, occupied it. The hospital was alive with screams and the sound of glass smashing. Ludwig's aggressive wandering spontaneously exploded and he slammed his fist against the bars. The structure rattled beneath his hands, jousting Feliciano from his seat. The blond's chest rumbled with an animalistic growl as he continued his nervous march around his enclosure.
He's lost it...Feliciano thought. He rested his head back down, hoping his friend would calm down. Blood from the bullet wound was seeping down his legs and making a brown, stained, trail where he walked. With every lashing, more blood came from the German's side. No one had seemed to mind the prisoner bleeding, they had not even made an attempt to show concern.
A group of soldiers gathered around the guard, wide smiles spreading on their faces at the sight of a distressed Ludwig.
"We are going to do it now, while Ivan is meeting with the others." One said,
"Oh? But I'm guarding, can't it wait? I want to see it." The guard responded,
"Where is he going to go? Come on, I'm sure you'd leave anyway when you hear his lovely screams." The soldier looked directly at Ludwig who snorted back at him. "For such a small thing... He screams loud." Ludwig went still, his already pale face chilled to white usually only seen on a corpse. The soldier took out his knife, flicking it open and waving it to show off it's shine.
"I want my part of repentance, my piece of satisfaction, my pound of flesh..." He hissed. Ludwig could feel the hot breath of his tormentor on his face. His brain shorted, a moment of absolute silence was around him. The image of the Russians turning their back and leaving them narrowed into a tunnel. All he could see was the mocking man laughing with his friends. His brain focused only on searing the man's features into his memory. The door slammed shut to the corridor. The electricity was fading on and off, the taste of fire and death heavy in the air. Still the pleas of women and cries of men were bursting occasionally, only to be silenced midway. Feliciano sat up,
"Ludwig I-"
"UURRRAAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Ludwig back curled and he slammed his body against the hastily wielded bars. His thick fingers latching onto the metal and wrenching his wrists to pull it. His body shaking with power and flesh reddening from his roars. Beneath his heated grasp the metal groaned and bent away from his calloused claws. Feliciano watched, in awe, as the cell bent to his will. Noises a man would not make escaped his throat as he pushed his body's limit.
The cage now had an opening and, like a loose bull, Ludwig charged through it and down the corridor. Feliciano sprang up and slipped through the bars. Ludwig already slammed his body up against the doors to shove them open. Feliciano pursued, questioning every shadow around him. Afraid to cry out and get captured he tried his best to keep up with his friend.
The screams were a blood curling, bone fracturing cry of such agony that the men's hearts seized for a moment. Ludwig heard a snap in the back of his skull, like he popped a joint. The cry continued, not dulling, but growing in volume and desperation. The blond tracked it, spinning around corners with no regard to who might be just beyond them. All pain, from the bullet, exhaustion, anything was gone. A fierce energy infused his ravaged body. Finally the screams lost their echo, he was right near them, one last corner. Around him the unfinished parts of the hospital were soaked with liquid and vandalized with bullet holes.
"Leos!" He called. Rough hands grabbed him from behind and restrained him. His son being dragged along to the center of the floor. Leos screamed and jerked in the Russian soldiers arms. His teeth coming down to bite his jacket. Legs kicking fiercely against his capture's. With as much effort has he attacked, it had no effect and the man pinned him to the frozen concrete. Ludwig slammed his elbow into the soldier that restrained him, but there it didn't seem to phase him. Feliciano retaliated as well, fighting to get to Ludwig, but his light body was quickly subdued with the soles of Russian soldiers. While his face was pressed against the floor, Feliciano watched as his friend and Leos were dragged further from each other. Ludwig 's arms wrenched behind his back and head tilted up to watch his screaming child struggle in the grasp of a stranger.
Leos fought, even while on the ground. His shirt was torn from his body. The bones that stretched the pallid skin were a slightly shock to the Russians, but then continued their job. Ludwig's eyes strained to the corners of his vision to see one Russian over the fire. The man stood holding an iron bar into the fire, the metal bright and aglow with heat.
"Papa!" Leos called. The Russian with the metal came back into Ludwig's field of view, the hot bar in his hands. He turned so he could see his allies and Ludwig.
"A gift, memorabilia, for you Germany..." He pointed the hot iron toward Ludwig. The red smoldering designed seared it's brightness into his corneas. The symbol of his now falling government.
"Keep his ribs up, I want this to saturate his bones." The Russian ordered. The men twisted the child so his right side was up and arched. With little reaction, the man slammed the iron into the boy's ribs.
The shrill from the child was something a damned soul would cry as it boiled in a hellish lake of lead. The smoke plumed up, twisting into the horrid images of skeletal souls that fled to the heavens. The boy writhed, the tendons in his neck strained as he desperately pleaded incoherently. Ludwig's entire vision blackened for a moment, the pain instantly gone. The scent of blistering, burning, meat and flesh stained the sense of all present. As Ludwig's brain reconnected, all it comprehended was the sight of his boy, his people, tortured. His back rose and he threw the Russian on his back off. Flinging each man on his arms to the side he charged blindly. His hands curling into claws he ripped at the face of a soldier who tried to block The Brander. Grasping his eyes the man fell, screaming. The Brander took one last look at the blackened, simmering wound and tore the branding iron it from the child. Using the hot metal as a shield he thrust the brand into Ludwig. The heat burned through his clothing. Like the devil's tongue, it licked him with a acidic burn. He did not cry in pain, but in fury.
He swung his fist like a club and knocked the Brander's skull. Blood sprayed from the shattered head, shimmering in the shorting lights a morbid rainbow. Tackling the man, Ludwig's brain erupted. His nails sheared the flesh and fat from the man's face, hard hands crush and cracking the bones beneath him. The man struggled, rising his arms, but Ludwig caught hold of one and snapped it back like one would do to a calf shank. He picked up the pleading Russians face and slammed it into the floor. The wail from the men went unaided by his comrades, who had scattered like fleas. Ludwig felt the satisfying crunch of bones beneath him and smiled. Hot blood splattered up unto his face and clothing and he pulled the man up by the collar and slammed his head back down. A weak arm came around his shoulder and tried to yank him back.
"Ludwig! Ludwig stop!" It cried, he would no obey. He wanted to see this man's entrails skew about the floor, how dare he, how dare he harm his child. In Ludwig's mind, every person who had ever hurt Leos was now embodied in this man. His mother, his rapers, his abusers, the Russians, his boss, himself, anyone. His blows became harder, his knuckles started to his bone fragments and joints instead of muscle. Still the weak arms pulled at him, begging.
"Ludwig look at LEOS!" The statement snapped Ludwig's mind into the present. The face he was ripping apart was nearly destroyed, but still shivering in anguish. Feliciano was on his back, crying into his shoulder while his nails dug into his chest. He set the man's head back down, gently. He turned to see his son on the floor, curled into a ball. He stood, letting Feliciano slide off his back, and walked to Leos. Knelling by his child, it seemed as though he had again passed out. The smoke still rising from the brand mark, the scent heavy around him of the charred skin. Ludwig felt his lips quiver as he cupped the boy's face, the blood of the Russian smearing on his skin. Ludwig's vision blurred, tears dripping onto Leo's face, washing away the blood in pink streams down his cheeks and neck. The child looked at peace, asleep, despite is body being burned to the bones.
Ludwig picked Leos up, cradling him like an infant. As he began to walk, so did Feliciano, where too, the Italian did not know. As if my some sixth sense, Ludwig guided himself through the maze of the hospital at a slow pace. The pleas of women, the nurses and patients rang rough the halls, a symphony of begging and death cries. Ludwig knew what each pitch the victim plead meant. Rape, torture, death. A shadow ahead of them snaked around the silhouette of a woman and soon a new singer in the choir joined as they disappeared into a closet. Ludwig's head fell back, his heart felt as it a billion little paper cuts can been sliced into it and with each beat they split open further.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Outside the sun was cloaked with a thick sheet of black clouds. Smoke from the burning fatherland, the wind howling in pain as the flesh of the earth was scorched. The scent of fire was familiar by now, overpowering all other smells the permeated through the area. The air felt thick and sticky, despite the frigid temperature. With every heavy breathe the taste of ash jabbed at Ludwig's tongue. The Allies had set up a more luxurious camp for the elite. England, America, and Russia were all situated by a fire with a map in front of them.
Russia was the first to notice, his eyes brightly shone in the flicker of the flames. His partners then too looked. England winced in shock, the American rising to his feet ready to fend the German off. Feliciano raised his hands gently, reassuring them. Ludwig's arms felt as if they were encased in steel, trembling as they straightened his skeletal son for them to see the injury. His lips could not move nor throat make any noise. The gloss in his eyes and lack of expression showed his fatigue, his weakness. England approached, knowing Ludwig was no threat.
The Englishman let a gasp escape his mouth when his eyes set upon the injury. With the last bit up strength Ludwig raised his eyebrows up with a desperate look.
"The Russians... Look at what they did to my child..." Ludwig whispered and brought Leos back to his chest. Bouncing him lightly like an infant, he made soothing noises to the limp body in his arms. The American ordered for a nurse, while England stared down Russia, who's face was absent from a smirk.
"The deal was not to harm him. Negotiating is off, you have Gilbert and that is enough..." England rolled the map up, shoving it inside his briefcase and wrinkling it horribly. The bland look on Russia's face twisted down into a predatory stare.
"Bring me the worms responsible for ruining my chances of getting more land! NOW!" Russia's animalistic growl made his men flinch and they hurried away.
"Gil... Gilbert? You have Gilbert? He is alive?" Ludwig's voice was shaking, his legs trembling. Feliciano gently pulled his friend to the ground to have him sit, rubbing his back in an attempt to sooth him.
"You speak as if that is better than him being dead." Russia hissed. Ludwig's cheeks stung with his saline tears, his throat choking on his sobs as he tried to shove them back into his chest. He let himself fall into the mud, thrashing his head and legs. His heart boiled in a painful ache that shot up and down his spine. Russia left the broken man in the mud. Feliciano quickly switched sides so he could see Ludwigs face, and knelt in the soggy earth. His hands brushing the mud from his white skin, guarding his delicate blue eyes as they leaked.
"People will not say, the Nazi's killed us, the Nazi's caused the war... No, they will say the Germans did and brand our people's flesh with that in stigma for eternity... Even though we were a victims of the same fate in the end..." Ludwig closed his eyes. Feliciano wrapped himself around his companion, digging his nails into the German's back. The heavens scolded them with menacing roars they laid in the softened, brown, wounds of the earth.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
...
thank you for sticking with me through this story. The sequel, Atrophy, will deal with very little history and will be gerita, prussia and Leos will be more of a character instead of a symbol.
The opinions in the work are not necessarily my own, but something I put into the characters. Everyone has their opinion about the war, about the things that happen.
Ludwig's last words definition: yes people do blame the nazi's but crack open a book, it will say Germans far more than Nazi. This pisses me off to. no. end. Certain country's books do not do this. I will get into the way the German's were brutalized after the war in Atrophy as well as some little know ways Victims of the Nazi's camps were (this includes jews, POWs, etc.), since its a tad more relevant there than here. For now just remember that line because it's dire in Atrophy.
Remember to vote on the poll which story after Atrophy I should work on. It's very close so come vote!:D
The Music for this chapter was:
Merchant Prince-two steps from hell.
Entire Musical credits:
Great spirits TSFH- Leo, Ludwig and Feliciano go and play soccer and eat in the park
Road to Revelation TSFH - 2nd battle/3rd battle
Starvation TSFH- when Leos is sick and germany leaves camp, climax
Merchant Prince TSFH – Ludwig picking up Leos and then surrendering
River of tears TSFH – Leos' death camp dream
Lament for the Lonely TSFH- Germany bidding farewell Leos is too sick, Ludwig's goodbye to Feliciano.
A hero's return TSFH – Prussia and Germany visit the death and work camp
God of Lightening TSFH – The bombing on Germany.
Heaven and Hell TSFH- Gilbert's false victory
Petra Corner Stone Cues – Gilbert vs. Ivan
Breath of Ran Gor-Prussia charging into battle against Russia
I can not thank you guys enough. Seriously, Danke