The soft light of the early morning that filled the room should have relaxed Gilbert, but today it did not. It was too late to turn back.

His own scarlet blood stained the floor, his breath came in heavy pants, deep with pain. Although his dagger rested on the bathroom's marble counter, his fingers were still wrapped tightly around the hilt as he stared at the mirror and observed his reflection, searching for any more flaws.

"Die..." he hissed against the pain as he pulled the steel blade across his alabaster skin once more. It wasn't fair. All the other countries were able to live and stay strong with all of their flaws. Why did it have to be he, the almighty Prussia, that collapsed? He had lost the right to call himself awesome, and that left him with nothing.

The door to his bedroom opened, yet he did not glance away to see who it was. He heard a sigh and the heavy footsteps of a familiar man.

"Gilbert," the man said gently as he took the bleeding and injured man into a soft embrace.

He struggled weakly, but he was dizzy from the blood loss. Plus, the arms were warm and comforting. "Let me go, West," he demanded quietly. "I don't want you to see me like this." Another sigh. Ludwig dragged him from the bathroom and pried the weapon from Gilbert's fingers, putting it on the desk as he moved his older brother onto the bed.

"I will be right back," he promised. By this time, Gilbert was too weak to argue. Ludwig left the room to go find bandages for his brother. This had happened a few centuries ago, a couple of weeks after Fredrick the Great had died, for he had been Gilbert's favorite boss. Ludwig had only been a small boy then. But it hadn't been as bad as it was this time...

He walked back into Gilbert's room and gently woke him up so he could take some pain medicine. After a small, quick struggle, the medication had finally been swallowed and Gilbert was still enough so Ludwig could wrap up the many wounds with white gauze. "Why would you do this to yourself, Gil?" he asked as he pressed down on a deep cut.

Gilbert drew a sharp breath. "I...I'm not awesome anymore," he said slowly, softly. "I ruled as an awesome country for so long.. I don't transaction well, you know that."

Ludwig finished and climbed onto the bed with his brother who didn't protest. "I know you don't, but you can't do this every time something bad happens," he told him quietly. He put the his arms around the fallen country's waist and nestled his chin on Gilbert's shoulder. "You are a great king, Gilbert, never forget that. But remember that even the best of kings must give up the crown eventually. However, that doesn't mean that you are no longer a king."

He moved away slightly as Gilbert turned on his side and looked down at Ludwig. "Thank you, West," he said as he gently tilted up the younger country's chin. His usual smug grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a warm smile. It was odd seeing him that way, so Ludwig stayed frozen, his eyes watching his brother's. It took a moment, but then the blond realized his brother had been moving closer. "What are you—" he began to ask, but all sound ceased as Gilbert connected his lips to Ludwig's own with that warm smile of his new self and Ludwig's half-finished sentence.

Gilbert pulled away soon after, but it felt like an eternity. His wholesome smile had vanished from view and was replaced by his original grin while Ludwig's shock had transformed to a slight smile. "What was that for?" the blond asked. "We're brothers..."

"Isn't it that a king can have whatever and whoever he wants?"

The blond's smile disappeared and he glared harshly. "You conceited bastard," he growled, "I never should have told you that!"