"I hate you! I hate you all! How could you?" she asked, falling to her knees and sobbing, shaking her head from side to side.

She buried her face in her hands. How could this have happened? Everything had been fine! She felt a shadow over her and looked up. A once strong and emotionless face was now overcome with sorrow and bitter hatred of self. The blonde man before her had been blamed for everything that had happened and had suffered loneliness through the whole awful thing. There were still fresh, bleeding marks on his face from the more and more of his people that were killed either in battle or in death camps. She watched as bitter tears fell down his face, probably stinging the wounds on his face. He too fell to his knees in front of her. It was all a blur, but in the end, she had managed to catch the tall blonde around the torso so he wouldn't hit the ground. The others standing watched, most of them stone faced. She opened her mouth again, but her voice came out in a whisper.

"See what you've done to him? You should be ashamed. He's still a child…" she said, holding the tall blonde close, resting his head on her chest.

"He's also a danger to the world."

"He's lucky we let him live."

"This is the second time he's dragged the world into war."

"And what does Prussia have to do with it?" she yelled in response, still clutching the fallen, sobbing blonde.

"That outrage taught him this way of life, Elizavetha (1)," another blonde with blue eyes hissed.

"How dare you say that, Francis? Gilbert was your friend. You always used to call him "mon ami"! Or does that mean something that is as horrible as what you said?" she asked, her green eyes overflowing with tears.

Francis's face hardened, "That was before he abused me…(2)"

"Stupid… wine bastard…" muttered the blonde in the brunette woman's arms.

Francis smirked, "What's wrong, Ludwig? Can't speak for yourself? Not so tough without your big bruder now, are you?"

A blonde with green eyes shoved Francis lightly, "Enough, Francis. He's tortured enough…"

Francis sighed, "But Arthur…"

"Shut up everyone. No one speaks unless spoken to, understand?" asked a man with golden blonde hair and blue eyes.

Everyone nodded in agreement. Ludwig gently pushed the brunette woman with green eyes away and turned his icy-sapphire eyes to the man who had just spoken.

"My brother… doesn't deserve this. I do… America…" he croaked softly.

The blonde who was standing shook his head, "It's not your fault, Germany."

"G-Germany…?" a small, familiar voice said, sounding very afraid and nervous.

The German looked up to see a small, Italian man in a bloody blue military outfit standing, chained to a wall. Ludwig sighed in relief, barely managing to crawl over to the Italian. Once they were close, the Italian launched himself onto Ludwig and attached himself, as if he would never let go.

"Feliciano, are you okay?" Ludwig asked, holding Feliciano as close as he could.

Feliciano ignored Ludwig's question, opting instead to take off Ludwig's half unbuttoned shirt. The lithe man gasped, as tears built in his eyes. The poor German was covered in scars and marks that were still spilling blood. The Italian covered his mouth, as tears dripped down his face and unknowingly onto the scars. Ludwig hissed in pain as the salty water hit his skin, which was still open, raw and so red; it could be a competitor with a tomato. Feliciano pulled his head away quickly, nuzzling his head in Ludwig's neck, where there were less fresh wounds. They just stayed like that for a while, Ludwig holding Feliciano close while the latter sat in the former's lap, cradling his small head in between the larger man's neck and shoulder as he sobbed. When Feliciano calmed down, he looked at Ludwig's back again. The gashes were large, ugly and some were probably infected, judging but the pus coming out of a smaller wound that looked about three months old that seemed to have never healed.

"T-They hurt Ludwig…" Feliciano said softly.

"Nein. Don't blame them… I did it to myself…" Ludwig said despondently, trying to curl himself away from his Italian ally.

"No! You didn't! Don't blame yourself!" the brunette choked, starting to sob again.

The blonde lifted his hand to dry Feliciano's tears. Feliciano took a surprisingly firm hold of Ludwig's wrist, looking at it. It was, like his back, a red color, with thin slice marks, making diamonds and X patterns. He tried to control his tears as he kissed the German's wrist up and down. Had Ludwig done this to himself? Feliciano hoped to God that it was from the Great Genocide, or that the Allies had done it to inflict pain. Feliciano looked up, the blood from Ludwig's wrists staining his lips a brilliant red. The Italian's eyes begged for an answer, and sure enough, the German gave it to him

"I-I did this. I deserve to die. I killed so many people… Poland's, Russia's, China's , England's, France's, America's, Japan's, Yours, even my own… I killed my own people, Fel… I hate myself…" he said, choking back a sob.

Feliciano held on tighter, if that was possible, sobbing his eyes out, "NO! NO YOU DON'T. I need you! I need you with me! Please don't leave! I won't let you!"

Ludwig was taken aback. No one, not even his bruder, had ever said anything that kind. He reached over and broke the bondage that held Feliciano to the wall. He yanked the cuffs off the Italian's hands, setting him free. Feliciano grabbed a nearby hunk of rock and reciprocated, freeing the German of his restraints. They stared at each other for a moment before Feliciano closed the distance between them with a desperate and needy kiss(3). Ludwig stayed stiff a moment, before melting into the kiss like butter melting in an oven. Feliciano pulled back, covering his lips with his hand. Was this even real? He couldn't tell anymore. He pressed his ear to Ludwig's jugular vein, closing his eyes; he wanted to hear the blood pulse through the vein, just to make sure he wasn't dreaming. The German was confused so he decided to just stroke the Italian's hair. Then, Feliciano buried his ear in Ludwig's chest, listening to the erratic breathing that matched his own. Ludwig was now really confused; what was Feliciano doing?

"Ludwig…" Feliciano said, his voice small and soft.

"Ja?" Ludwig asked.

"Ti amo…. Please, don't hurt yourself anymore… I need you and so does Japan. But I need you more…" the Italian said blinking the tears away.

"I-Ich liebe dich auch. I promise, I won't hurt myself. I-I need you too, so don't leave, okay?" the German said softly, petting the Italian's hair as he laid a reassuring kiss on Feliciano's forehead.

A brunette woman with green eyes stood beside a hospital bed that was barely big enough to hold her, let alone the normally, strong, burly German laying in it. His silver hair was knotted and matted with blood. His blue German military uniform that was from WWI was pretty much torn to shreds and left his body covered in blood. His scarlet eyes that she loved so much were closed and his brow was creased in pain. The woman smoothed the hair back from his forehead, accidentally getting blood on her hands. She didn't care, though. She blinked slowly, trying to hold back tears. She wouldn't know what to do if she lost him. She had lost the two most important things to her in the past 31 years, her husband, Roderich and her own people. He almost winced at the thought of her ex-husband. They had been so happy, but at the same time, so miserable because the Hungarian woman refused to admit she was in love with the Prussian man and worried about his safety in the war. She sighed softly, stroking her lover's blood-stained silver hair.

"I miss you, you know… Your loud, obnoxious voice, your egotistical words, your warm lips, your gentle caress, your loving smile…" she said almost begrudgingly if she hadn't started to cry.

The salty tears from her face dripped down onto his, making him hiss in pain. The pain stung the wounds on his face and that certainly had woken him right up. He sat up slowly, holding his head. He blinked slowly, looking at the woman. He beckoned for her to come to him by making a motion with his index finger. The brunette sighed, sitting down on the side of the bed. She squeaked when she was picked up and put in the albino's lap. The Prussian wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest. The Hungarian laid her ear on his heart, listening to the familiar and comforting beat. Oh, how she loved moments like this.

"Liz… Why are you here…?" he asked softly, stroking Elizavetha's hair.

Elizavetha nuzzled her lover's neck, "Because Ludwig wanted to know that you were okay. And because I didn't want you to be lonely, Gil."

Gilbert sighed. This was really the end, wasn't it? His little brother was worried about him. Gilbert wanted to hate his brother for agreeing to dissolve him, but he just couldn't. He had grown attached to Ludwig and loved him with a strong brotherly love that would never be broken, even through dissolution and death. He looked up at Elizavetha. His love for her was as strong as his love was for his little bruder, maybe stronger. He leaned up and kissed her lips, holding her close and savoring the moments before he was going to be ripped away from everything he knew and given to Russia. Elizavetha kissed back fervently, trying to burn the memory and feeling of the kiss into her mind, lest she forget what love was like. After they pulled away from each other, they slowly smiled.

"Ich liebe dich, Elizavetha." Gilbert said softly.

"Szeretem túl, Gilbert." Elizavetha said even quieter, curling in his embrace to sleep.

Gilbert smiled a little, continuing to stroke her hair. He looked in the mirror at himself and smirked.

"Ich bin das überwältigende Preußen. Leben Sie lang Preußen!" he said.

He wasn't going to let death or dissolution get him down.

End

Author's notes:

According to my history teacher, Germany learned militarism through Prussia. Prussia had conducted three wars to form Germany, the Danish War, the Franco-Prussian War, and the Austro-Prussian War. All of these wars were short and due to this, when Germany entered WWI, their plan relied on a quick and easy defeat of the French, which, as we can see, did not happen.

Here, Francis is referring to the Franco-Prussian war, which the Prussians fought against the French to continue the unification of Germany. After the war, the Prussians made the French sign a humiliating treaty, forcing the French to give back Alsaces- Lorraine, which the French had taken during the 30 Years War.

Here, desperate and needy don't have a sexual connotation. Desperate here means willing to do anything to keep someone alive and needy means that someone needs the other person by their side to even function normally. (I know this may not make sense, but I thought I'd put it in there anyway.)

Translations:

Mon ami: My friend (French)

Bruder: Brother (German)

Nein: No (German)

Ja?: Yes? (German)

Ti amo: I love you (Italian)

Ich liebe dich, auch: I love you too (German)

Ich liebe dich: I love you (German)

Szeretem túl: I love you too (Hungarian)

Ich bin das überwältigende Preußen. Leben Sie lang Preuße!: I am the awesome Prussia. Long live Prussia!

If any of these are wrong, I'm sorry. I used a translator… And now I really wanna go learn either Italian or German. Most likely Italian, but still… XD

Thanks for reading~