Disclaimer: In no way do I own Hetalia-Axis Power.
Herein Lies
Ch1: Death's Doors
Ludwig could no longer remember what the Fürhur–what he–had hope to achieve in this devastating struggle. Power? Land? Freedom? But no, these were the things he's going to loose, not the things he's going to gain. For in the year of 1945, the Allies' garrisons entered Berlin, the capital of Germany, and marked the end of the war.
They had lost. And every one of them was being punished.
Ludwig couldn't bear looking at the Austria's reproachful glare as Roderich Edelstein were brought and secured onto the rack, the skin upon his right arm were flayed off layer by layer by America's men. He was being punished for bending, for bowing before the Fürhur, because he had wanted to protect his people. But he refused to shed a tear as he was once a proud empire, and it was a slim price to pay compare to what Japan had already suffered.
Elizabeta Héderváry slapped Ludwig across the face, leaving behind a crimson trickle from her wounded fingers before she walked off after Austria's dismissal, her steps were unsteady but she waved away another's help and hissed sarcastically at America.
"Some hero you are."
Her words were cruel as they sliced the stale air and her battered limbs were almost falling apart as she spoke but still she met the glassed man's for-once stern sapphire gaze. Much of her land would be lost though unlike Prussia, she could keep her heart. And without waiting for a reply, she turned away from the American and brushed a comforting hand on Gilbert's shoulder before she, too, left the gloomy room.
And Ludwig's eyes dropped as he felt the heavy weight of the Allies upon him.
"West."
A call from beside, from the man he deemed as his elder.
"Look up." Gilbert said, not the least minding the names called at him for being the origin of his younger's pugnacity. "If not for the love of the people you're about to lose, then for the pride."
Ludwig complied as he wasn't one to disobey a direct order, but his heart was filled with grief. "Why Bruder?" He murmured in a low voice. "Why do you agree to such unreasonable scourge?"
There wasn't a reply as the albino was leaded away in chains. And the clanking sounds of metal against metal were forever sketched into the younger German's mind, along with the lonely figure of his beloved brother trailing behind the Russian, but oddly in upright treads, to face his fate.
Countries wouldn't die easy as no mortal weapon could cause them lasting damage but still, countries could fall.
"Any last words?"
Ivan leered in that strangely mocking way of his, the tokarev pistol already glistening in his hands.
Why, you asked? Because someone needs to do it, simple as that...
Gilbert took a deep breath as it would probably be the last and let a smile fell onto his colorless lips. Even in his last, he still stood proud. Like the once upon Teutonic Knight he had been.
"Bring it on."
...for redemption.
And on February 25th, 1947.
Prussia was no more.
I hope there aren't too many historical errors...I know I failed my history test.