"No!" Italy screeched as Germany tried to pull him off of Gilbert, "No! No! No!" Italy sobbed, trying to claw even more at the bloodied Prussian.
"Get a hold of yourself, Italy!" Germany shouted, struggling to keep the Italian from killing his Bruder- which he had almost done already...
"NO! NOooooo..." Italy trailed off into fits of sobbing. His struggles became less and less until he simply lay limp in Germany's arms.
America looked up towards where Germany and Italy surely were. His breath hitched at the sight of the two nearby bodies.
"England I have to-" he couldn't finish his sentence. He hoped that England would understand, but he couldn't see what America was looking at... he couldn't see anything...
"It's alright, America," France said, "I'll stay here with Angleterre."
America nodded and stiffly stood up and turned towards the hill. He took in a breath and forced his legs to carry him up the slight incline. His legs were stiff and felt as heavy as lead while he walked.
He paused as he passed Romano's corpse- that's what is was. His neck was twisted in some horrible way, with just a glance America could see that he was no longer alive.
America's breath faltered and he couldn't move. Canada was laying just a few feet away, was he-? America couldn't finish the thought. He couldn't move any closer out of fear of finding out. But at the same time if Canada really was still alive then... he... had to...
America thought his breath sounded loud and shaky as he got closer. His face felt numb- his whole body did. Canada couldn't be- He had to be okay... He had to be-
"Nwo-" America made a sound somewhere between "no" and a cry of desperation.
Canada lay on the blood-soaked grass- his uniform still leaking the red liquid all over. His hands were loosely clutching his gut where the blade had gone through him. A look of cold pain was plastered on his face, his eyes staring lifelessly into the distance.
"Cana-" America gasped, kneeling down beside his brother's corpse, "Canad... Canada..."
The blond nation sobbed, reaching for Canada's clothing, his hair, trying to pull him back up, to bring him back, but it wasn't going to work. Canada was gone.
Switzerland watched the three nations closely, feeling a strange sense of pity for them. He hugged Liechtenstein closer to him and walked off, leaving the others to their grieving...
The battle may be over for them, but elsewhere, the fight continued. Elsewhere, there was Russia...
"Ian, please give up! You lost, don't try to start something else!" Russia begged his 2p who was marching away with a determined face. The stronger nation pushed his 1p off.
"I will never give up."
"Ian, you can't win!"
Ian stopped and grabbed Russia's wrist, instantly breaking it.
"Ah!" Russia exclaimed, trying to pull his wrist from Ian's grasp, "S-stop! Please, you'll only end up getting yourself killed, so just let me go!"
"What did you say about me not winning?" Ian said sternly. Russia gulped.
"Ian... please..." Russia said hoping, yet knowing that such words never had nor would they ever make Ian stop...
Ian's other hand flashed to Russia's neck.
"No..." Russia begged, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.
For a moment there was only silence. And then choking.