Matthew's wide eyes were glued on Willhem, who was looking back with a faint expression of guilt, as if wordlessly apologizing for being used like this. Belle stifled a terrified gasp at the sight of her older brother, bound and helpless. Yao was just smiling through it all.

"So I'm sure you all know by now, neither you, nor Canada can try anything, lest someone die, and I'm sure we all agree that less bloodshed is for the better."

Arthur let out a dry laugh. "As if you could expect us to believe that. You're more blood-crazed than anyone I've ever seen."

"Perhaps, but you've all played a hand in that, haven't you?"

"Don't try to push this on us!"

Yao frowned slightly. "Now, now, I don't think this is how you want to begin negotiations, is it?"

The other nations all fell silent. They knew how these 'negotiations' would end. Either in their deaths or imprisonment.

They weren't even sure which was worse.

{}}{{}

"Come on Francis, hang in there for me. Just a little bit further." The only response Antonio got from the Frenchman was a weak murmur, which he supposed was better than nothing. He continued shuffling along as silently as he could away from the manor. The brush provided some cover, but not enough, seeing as he couldn't see any of China's men. He liked being able to see the enemy.

When a pair of gloved hands covered his mouth, he went rigid, and nearly dropped Francis in shock, until a familiar voice started laughing. "You're scared so much easier than before!"

He turned on Gilbert, eyes flashing. "This is hardly the time!" He snapped. "Please tell me you brought a first-aid kit or something useful."

The Prussian was all seriousness again, (which is a disturbing image) and grabbed Francis' other arm. "C'mon. I've got everything we'll need in my little set-up."

"Have you seen much of what's going on? Belle said that China was holding Canada hostage, but that's all I know."

Gilbert grimaced at his words. "I saw alright. Heard his whole freakin' conversation too. But I came looking for everyone as soon as he called them, and ran into you. I must've gone the wrong way."

Antonio started sniggering. "You always did have a horrible sense of direction, mi amigo."

"Do not!" He insisted, looking like he was about to start pouting. "I have an awesome sense of direction! I just…don't use it all the time. It'd be cheating."

They arrived at the base of an old tree, and Gilbert pointed to a bag on the ground. "There should be some bandages in there." He moved to start climbing the tree.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like? No way am I gonna let Birdie stay in danger for a second longer! I'm sniping that bastard!"

"You can snipe?"

"Not really, but how hard can it be, right? You just aim with the scope, and fire, right?" Without giving Antonio the chance to reply, he continued scrambling up to a thick branch where the rifle was already positioned, and ready to fire.

It wasn't his best choice of positions. There was a particularly leafy branch obscuring his view of the other nations. He could just barely see America, whose eyes were locked on his brother, never wavering for a moment.

Though, it wasn't like he needed a great view of them. As long as he could see the bastard who dared to hold a gun to the sweetest nation out of all of them. Yao was standing on Matt's right side, effectively making himself a massive target for Gilbert, who smirked as he shifted the gun so that Yao's forehead was right in the middle. "I have a shot Toni!" He hissed back down to where the Spaniard was already cleaning and dressing Francis' wounds.

There was no hesitation in his voice as he replied, "Take it."

Mouth set into a grim line, he turned back to the gun, finger grazing the trigger. "No going back now."

He fired.

Only to realize the shot was too low. Not a headshot, as he'd hoped, but the bullet managed to lodge itself in Yao's throat, and send him to the ground.

For a moment, no one can really register what's happened. Yao struggled to breathe on the ground, but managed to spit out his final order to Sebastian. "Kill him."

The dark-haired nation nodded stiffly, and pushed Willhem a few steps ahead, handgun at the ready to kill the tall nation.

Ivan moved to stop the man, but he knew he wouldn't be faster than a bullet. Netherlands was going to die. His eyes slammed shut as he tackled Serbia to the earth. But the shot had already been fired.

"NO!"

{}}{{}

The scream hadn't come from either Matthew or Belle, as he'd expected. It had come from Alfred, who was now kneeling on the ground next to someone.

Ivan swore his heart stopped when he realized that it was Matthew. How? How could he have moved that fast when the others couldn't? There was no way he could've shielded Willhem like that.

He kept on telling himself that. Anything that would keep him from believing that this was really happening.

"Please Matt! I can't keep owing you like this!" Willhem was murmuring. "You can't just give up like this!"

"Mattie! C'mon! Stay with me!" Alfred hissed, pressing a hand to the wound in is chest, trying to stop the bleeding. "Someone get a damn medic! Something!" He locked eyes with Ivan, and in that instant, he looked like a child again, pleading desperately with a parent. "Ivan, your scarf! Please, it has to do something!"

He knew it wouldn't, but who was he to argue when his Matvey's life was being pumped out of him by his own heart?

The two worked tirelessly, wrapping the cloth tight around the wound. A few times, the Canadian's eyes would flicker open, and he'd smile, and whisper something about everything being alright. Ivan would silence him with a desperate kiss, and they'd keep working.

Finally, his face ashen, and eyes growing dim, Matthew looked up once more, and murmured, "Take care of Kumajirou for me."

And his last breath left him with a sigh.

"No! Matt! C'mon! Wake up! See? Everything's okay! Yao's gone! We can just…" Alfred's voice wavered. "…We can go home…"

Ivan said nothing; he just leaned forward, and rested his head on Canada's shoulder, hiding his sorrow from the rest of the world.

{}}{{}

"Fuck!" Antonio jumped at Gilbert's sudden exclamation, not surprised so much at the noise, but at the emotion that was thick in his normally one-tone voice. "Fuck no! You fuckin' idiot!"

"G-Gil? What's wrong?" He called, climbing up to where the Prussian was sitting, slumped over with his head in his hands.

"What the fuck was I thinking Toni? I can't shoot worth shit! I just…fuck!"

Wait… was Gilbert crying? "What the hell happened? Did you miss?"

"Worse! I shot the fucker, but he had another ally there!" He turned, and flung his arms around Antonio, who was just looking at his friend in horror. "The sonuvabitch shot Mattie! I fuckin' killed him Toni! I got him killed!"

He couldn't think of a single thing to say to him now. He just sat there, holding his long-time friend, and let him cry.

It was the first time he'd ever seen Gilbert cry.

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Thanks for… I'm so sorry! –Sobs-

I could honestly barely force myself to write this. I kept on having to force my fingers down to the keys, but I've had this planned for months, and there was no avoiding it.

On any other day, I'd laugh at you guys for totally not seeing Netherlands coming. Prussia or France would've been too obvious (Thank you Free Wolf for pointing it out that I'd never do something that easy. Finally! Someone gets me) and I hate Cuba with a burning passion. (Sorry to all those who like him) But right now… I'm just gonna go cry somewhere.

Please review, but don't be mad, okay?