It was always so cold in Russia, the sparse sunlight didn't help. It was always the cold weather that made her crave warmth, it was only natural. Just pure human instinct to crave warmth in the cold.

Ever since her invasion she felt grimy, cold and grimy. She knew she didn't belong here, in the Soviet Union. But what could she do? Russia's invasion took its toll on her and left her human body sore with the scars of rape.

It was cold in Russia's house and the emptiness of her room consistently vibrated around her as she slept alone night after night in her misery. Then suddenly there he was, just as broken and alone as she was.

At first he was just sitting there in the corner licking his wounds, a bloody gash oozing from his shoulder blade and a dirty cloth seeping with red liquid wrapped around it. He didn't even notice that it fell to the ground in a giant wet slop as his eyes flickered closed, his head hitting the wall with a clunk.

It took a few seductive whispers, a cold cloth on his forehead, a decent bandage, and an aspirin to coax him back to reality.

"Elizaveta?" he whispered as his eyes flickered open, his head now resting in her lap.

"Yes, Gilbert…."

"Your not supposed to be here…not in this hell. He didn't hurt you did he?"

Silence ensued.

()()()

He spent the night in her room laying beside her as if she was too delicate to touch. It didn't matter that there was still a space between. It was the same with the night after that, and the night after that. It wasn't until the fourth night his hand ventured a touch.

First it was a gentle hand grazing, a tingle in the fingertips. Then his hand was at her waist, his face close to hers, and their lips touched. Their eyes met briefly, a second of calm before the storm. As their tongues began to wrestle for dominance in their mouths, their clothes piled on the floor, and sweet ecstasy became the precursor of the night.

It was the first time in a long time sweat had coated her body. Her lips where raw and pink from his kisses, her breasts pressed seductively against his chest from his place on top of her. She couldn't help but flinch as he entered her, memories of the rape still fresh in her mind. Yet his thrusts where gentle, mostly because of his weak state, but also loving as he sent waves of pleasure throughout her body from in-between her legs.

They fell asleep in a tangled pile of their own limbs, their minds in a warm cloud high above the cold and cruel earth.

()()()

Their nights together soon became a regular occurrence, and therefore everyone in the house soon possessed knowledge of their nightly trysts.

Elizaveta was unaware until Russia stopped her in the middle of her chores. "I'm told the german now spends his nights in-between your legs."

She was frozen. She only hastily nodded just so he would leave. He did, but she didn't know he would be coming back.

()()()

Gilbert's breath was heavy as he pounded into her. Her nipples where hard as his thumb tweaked them playfully. Her hands where fisted in his hair as his mouth feasted on her neck. She could feel his mouth curve into that devilish smirk she so loved as a pleasurable moan escaped her lips. She could feel her release nearing, as well as his own. She felt like swearing as the pressure in her core became stronger and stronger.

His lips made their way back up her chin, across her cheek, until they found her lips where they feasted greedily.

Then suddenly he stopped. His cock buried deep inside her motionless and his lips frozen against hers, slightly parted.

The door to the room suddenly closed and heavy footsteps made their way across the floor to their bed. Their eyes flickered open to only meet one another's gaze.

She had never seen Gilbert's eyes so filled with fear. Then again their current situation left them both more then vulnerable.

"You both are aware that fornication is forbidden in the motherland, correct?"

His voice sounded groggy, as if he was lost in a drunken haze.

"You must be married in order to fuck one another. And your marriage must be approved by the state of Russia."

Neither dared to move as they heard the metal buckle of a belt being loosened and pants being discarded to the floor.

The covers where pulled off them, leaving them both naked and freezing in the open air. Elizaveta wrapped her arms and legs around Gilbert's torso, concealing as much of her body as she could while clinging to him for dear life, burying her face in his chest.

Gilbert just hid his face in her voluptuous hair, not wanting her to see his pain and humiliation as the Russian roughly grabbed his hips, buttering his already bruised and battered asshole.

Elizaveta only felt the weight of her bed shift before she whispered in Gilbert's ear. "Gilbert…Whats he doing?"

He didn't answer. She only heard a few grunts of pain escape his throat. Pain that he tried so hard to mask.

Elizaveta's eyes gazed down Gilbert's scarred backside, only to find Ivan sitting there on his knees, Gilbert's hips in his grasp, as he adjusted himself on top of Gilbert's ass.

Elizaveta tightened her grip on Gilbert's shoulders, more so to comfort for him then fear for her.

Ivan thrusted into Gilbert, thus Gilbert thrusted into her. Immediately Gilbert's seed spilled into her, filling her with a now unwelcome warmth.

Thrust-thrust. Thrust-Thrust. Again and again it went on. No pleasure came from it, yet Elizaveta found her nails digging into Gilbert's back, nearly drawing blood. It didn't feel right that Ivan was there and the stiffness of Gilbert's form told her that he was in agreement.

It seemed like an eternity before the Russian came. One final thrust and he was done, arching his back into Gilbert's backside, as the Prussian bit his lip hiding his yelps of pain.

Elizaveta softly ran her fingers through his white hair, pressing her forehead to his. Hoping to ease the pain that was apparent in his pale face.

He acted as if he was about to kiss her. His lips had barely grazed hers when Ivan had grabbed his hair and pulled him from her arms, throwing him on to the floor.

A swift kick soon met his gut, then another. He felt a mix of blood and bile rise in his mouth.

"Gilbert!" the hungarian screamed, before Ivan turned to her and hit her upside the head, knocking her unconscious.

"E-eli…?" Gilbert choked out, accompanied by a few squirts of blood, before he too passed out on the floor.

()()()

She didn't see Gilbert for weeks after that. For awhile she thought he was dead, having not heard a single word of him in that time period. Then one day a marriage certificate appeared in her hand, her name was on it as was Gilbert's. All that was needed was her signature and so she signed her name in mediocre handwriting, right next to Gilbert's shakily written name.

There it was, her second marriage. No ceremony, no flowers, or music; just ink and paper. Her husband wasn't even with her, she didn't even see him for three days after that. There was no official wedding night either, she was surprised that it didn't bother as much as she thought it would.

It was the middle of the night when he stumbled into the room, closing the door behind him before slumping to the floor in a mix of pain and exhaustion. He slowly crawled over to the bed laid down beside Elizaveta, not even bothering to remove his clothes or that he had awoken the woman that was now his wife.

Elizaveta jerked awake as she felt the bed shift. Sitting up she stared down at a half-lidded Gilbert on the verge on unconsciousness, half of his body still hanging off the bed.

"Gilbert?" she said shaking his shoulder.

He grudgingly opened his eyes. "Hey E-eli."

She scrambled for the matches and struck a light to a bedside candle, letting a small light illuminate the room. Her mouth fell open in shock. Gilbert's face was decorated with bruises and dried blood and his clothes weren't in any better shape.

"Gil!" she screeched. "What happened to you?"

"R-russia doesn't l-like me t-that much," he sputtered from his lips.

Within moments she had obtained a wet washcloth and was wiping Gilbert's face of the dirt and blood, not too mention getting him a change of clothes. She had fought with Austria in battle, but he was never one to get his hands dirty. She would have never done this to him.

In the dim light she could barely make out the markings of a collar on his neck, judging by the parallel bruise lines that circled his jawline.

It didn't take long for Gilbert to fall asleep and she was thankful the night wasn't so cold any lonely now he was there and he was hers.

()()()

Gilbert woke up feeling oddly refreshed, after the month spent in the abusive dirty basement it felt good to wake up in a moderately soft, yet warm bed. Elizaveta's scent still hung heavily on the sheets and cushions, he breathed it in finding it pleasing.

Ivan had told him that Elizaveta had signed the marriage contract. As much as he enjoyed her company and gentle touch he still had a difficult time picturing her as his wife. He had never planned on being married or a husband, especially after seeing how her last marriage ended.

His half slumber was cut off by the sound of Elizaveta barfing into the room's privy. Slowly he sat up and made his way over to her, holding her hair back as she relieved herself.

She eventually finished, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Are you feeling better Gilbert?" she asked.

"Why are you asking me, your the one barfing?"

"Oh, thats the third time this week. Its no big deal."

If he had known better he would have quickly realized that it was a big deal.

()()()

"Gilbert, I'm pregnant."

He couldn't comprehend the words. They all ended up jumbled up in his head. "What?"

"Your sperm fertilized one of my eggs while we where having sex. So now you have one of your guys growing inside me like a parasite," Elizaveta bluntly stated.

Gilbert's hand immediately fell to her flat stomach. "Theres a baby in there?" He asked, still having trouble comprehending the fact that he was going to be a father. He had only been with one or two women in his life and this had never happened before.

"It's not that big yet, but its in there," she sighed with a small smile.

"Is it mine?"

"Whose else would it be? Of course its yours. Your the only one I've been with these past months."

He slowly laid back down beside her. "Do I make a good husband?"

"Would I still be here if you weren't?"

He wrapped his arms around her in a tender embrace. He still didn't understand it, but he figured he would eventually.

Part of him hoped she had never told him, even though he would have found out sooner or late. As he held her, the only woman he felt this strongly for in his life, the only thought in his head was the bleak message Ivan had given him before he was released from the basement.

"You will be returned into your brother's custody…in a coffin, da."

()()()

It was fascinating watching her belly grow. Expanding to occupy a growing child. He also saw the toll it took on her. How the weight hurt her back as it curved inward and the chubbiness of her ankles. She was still beautiful. Her skin had acquired a translucent glow, she was a spot of sunshine in the bleak Soviet Union sky. Plus her hormones gave her crazy urges every so often.

Russia kept his distance, he was thankful for that. But an ominous stare and eerie feelings from the giant only reminded him of the warning. A warning he wanted to forget.

He was hoping that it would be after the baby was born, he wanted to see that kid that Elizaveta was carrying inside of her for him.

As he finished sweeping the atrium he felt his face come into contact with the wall and a cold steel knife pressed against his throat. "Big brother Ivan says you have six months," said the heartless voice of Belarus.

The tip of the blade edged his jugular vein. "Make them count."

Then she was gone and he was alone surrounded by a cold air as if he was in already laying in his tomb.

()()()

"I think its a boy," said Elizaveta caressing her swollen stomach a smile carved into her face. "But the midwife says its too soon to tell."

"How can it be too soon, aren't you eight months out of the nine?"

She chuckled. He loved seeing her this happy. It only made it harder for him to break the news to her. That his days where numbered.

He liked being married, the sort of commitment and bond that existed between them, especially the close proximity they always kept when they where alone.

It killed him to think that she would soon be a widow, as well as a mother.

"Are you scared?" he found himself asking.

"Its not my first baby, so I know whats coming. But yes I am scared. Scared that something will go wrong or that Russia…"

He brushed her hair out of her face, before wrapping his arms around her. "Take this as a promise, I will never let that monster anywhere near you or our baby."

She kissed him then, running her fingers through his snow white hair. "And I promise you, I will never leave you."

He broke the kiss then, pulling slightly from her. "What's wrong?" she asked.

His head hit the pillows he starring up at the ceiling. "What if I ask you to leave?"

"W-why would you do that?"

He was silent, but Elizaveta continued to prod. "Gilbert, please tell me!" she begged, not realizing she was on the verge of tears. She cursed her pregnancy hormones.

"Russia's given me a deadline," he stated bluntly, avoiding her gaze.

"Deadline?"

"Russia's had it out for me since the first war. I knew this was coming, I just hope it wasn't coming so soon."

He soon found himself locked in a deadweight embrace, the hungarian gripping him to the point where he couldn't breath. "E-eli…?"

"Sorry, It's…all just so hard to comprehend. I've gotten so used to this, having you so close all the time. I don't wanna lose you. Not now!" she was on the verge of tears, which he carefully wiped away before kissing her.

"I don't wanna be alone again!" she cried as she pulled him on top of her.

They sucked on each other's lips until they where raw, their breaths heavy on both their lips and cheeks. He was so grateful how plump her breasts had gotten as he inched down her shirt.

Before he even had the chance to get his boxers off she had already latched her legs around his waist, provocatively rubbing herself against him. Even with her large bloated belly she was all the more beautiful. Propping himself on his hands so he wouldn't squish her belly, she pushed his boxers down below his waist to his ankles where he kicked them aside.

As their tongues fought for dominance, he slowly entered her relishing in her wet warmth. Her hips bucked underneath his weight, moving in time with him as he built up a rhythm.

Their love making was slow and gentle and surprisingly it wasn't hard for her to reach orgasm, several times. Another reason he was thankful for her pregnancy hormones.

They laid in each other's arms the rest of the night, never wanting to let go and hoping it would never end.

()()()

She went into labor two days after that. It looked like a scene from a horror novel, blood gushing from in-between her legs and her screaming in pain as she clutched her abdomen.

It was good the midwife was close by, cause otherwise Gilbert had no idea what to do. Eventually Gilbert got the hint from Elizaveta yelling at him for five minutes and just held her as the agonizing labor dragged on for twelve hours.

She squeezed his hand so hard he swore he felt something crack. Several times she cursed him till his ears hurt. Blaming him for putting her through all this pain.

Her breath was so heavy and labored, only separated by heavy screams. Yet the midwife still told her to push and with every passing second more and more blood appeared.

Then suddenly he saw a pruny little creature, all purple and covered in blood be pulled from his wife's body, followed by a trail of frothy afterbirth. If the midwife didn't announce that it was a boy he would have barfed right there on the floor.

It let out a wail, screaming from the cold and different light of the world. It was the voice of his son.

Within moments the babe was wrapped up in spare cloth and handed to its mother. Elizaveta cradled the newborn, staring at the incredibly small purple creature with the greatest admiration.

Gilbert just stared at the two, even more awestruck then his wife was. He was a father, that was his son, and that amazing woman had given him that.

The babe fidgeted, squealing impatiently. Elizaveta immediately pulled down her shirt, exposing one of her breasts to let the newborn feed.

"Hey thats mine!" Gilbert objected, conjuring a laugh from the exhausted woman.

Letting her lean against his chest he stared at the boy. As he drank his mother's milk he stared back up at his father. His eyes where blue, like Ludwig's.

"He's definitely yours Gilbert," Elizaveta smiled. "Your eyes and how they never leave my chest."

He chuckled at that. "C-can I hold him?"

She nodded before carefully handing the baby to him, passing it into his arms with the utmost care. Elizaveta leaned back on the simple cushions of the bed, watching the two before falling asleep.

The two just stared at each other for the longest time. Gilbert's with uncertainty, astonishment, and sadness while the babe just gaped at him his young eyes wide with curiosity.

A small chubby hand grabbed one of his bony fingers. The grip was tight. Gilbert would never know if he meant hello, you're mine, or don't go. Either way the child had an uncanny way of reading his mind.

"It seems to me that you are pretty awesome after all!" he smirked. The babe let out a squeal, as if he meant to smile or laugh.

Gilbert then noticed how rosy-cheeked his son was. Now that his skin was clean and the blood had begun to flow through his tiny body. He was indeed beautiful, everything was so perfect not marred with a single scar or battle wound. He was without a doubt a clean slate and he hoped with all his heart he would remain that way. All in all the last thing he wanted was for this boy, his son, to end up like him: a pitiful excuse for a country with a nearing dissolution date not far off.

His son would grow up to be even more awesome then he ever was. His only disappointment was that he wouldn't be able to see it happen.

He was glad Elizaveta was asleep, he didn't want her to see him cry.

()()()

Elizaveta awoke early the next morning. Gilbert was still holding the baby, having never taken his eyes off it.

"Frederick," he said suddenly.

"What?" she asked.

"His name, Frederick." he paused, looking up at her. "If thats alright with you?"

She smiled, gazing at their son. "It's perfect."

"No," he said. "Its awesome."

()()()

The child grew quickly in those three months that passed. A thin film of blond hair appeared on his head. Elizaveta said that it was almost too blond for Ludwig and seemed almost white in the rare sunshine of the Soviet Union. To Gilbert those two, his wife and child where the sunshine in his life.

Frederick showed promise of strength as he grew, yet as he began to smile more and more the only thing Gilbert cared about was that his boy was happy and he would do anything to make him smile.

()()()

"Two weeks Beilschmidt," the Ruski's voice whispered in his ear. Gilbert's stomach didn't drop till he heard the sentence that followed. "I can't wait to hear your wife and bastard scream da!"

The next thing Gilbert knew was that his fist was sore and Ivan's nose was bleeding. Right before Gilbert himself received a beating from the large and powerful man and drug down to the darkness of the cellar.

More beatings soon followed. At one point he realized the favored u-trap pipe was involved. It wasn't long till he passed out.

"Leave them alone," was his only objection.

()()()

Gilbert woke up with the collar around his neck and his hands secured behind in back in handcuffs.

"Well look who is finally awake," came the Russian's voice, who sat off in a corner sipping vodka. The pipe laying across his lap.

"Where are they?" he hastily asked, just as the shock wore off and pain began to kick in.

"They are upstairs in the room where you left them, safe and sound. Your boy cries a lot at night, its annoying, da."

"His name is Frederick and he's only a baby, he doesn't know better," the handcuffs and collar biteing into his skin.

"Too bad you won't see them again. I can't risk the chance of you escaping. So I've decided to keep you down here till you execution."

He smiled and sipped his vodka, just as Gilbert's chest began to hurt. He thought he had a broken or bruised rib.

"No!"

"No?"

"I need to see them, Ivan!"

" Da?"

"I accepted the fact that you where going to kill me awhile ago, I just…"

Ivan cut in, "You want to say goodbye, da? How sweet."

"Please," he didn't care that he was begging.

He stood to leave. "I'll think about it."

()()()

Russia returned about two days later, an intimidated Lithuanian following close behind. The collar that leashed him to the basement wall was removed and a thicker, heavier one was replaced.

"Doesn't he look like a sweet puppy Toris," he said with his sadistic smile, as Toris obediently nodded.

"You have five days, make the most of it Gilbert cause you'll be back here by then and don't try to escape. The collars electric and will kill you if you cross the border, da!"

The handcuffs fell from his wrists and he followed them up out of the basement like a dog, and he hated himself for it. But once he walked into the room he shared with his small family and his boy looked up at him and smiled, his small arms reaching up for him, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

He immediately scooped him up and held him, squeezing him as much as he could. He didn't want to let him go, but he knew he had to.

Frederick looked up at him from where he lay against his chest. His big blue eyes where wide and for some reason filled with sadness.

"Theres no reason to be sad Fritz, you and your mother will be free from this prison soon enough. I only wish I can come with you guys. But I promise, you'll be safe. Your uncle will take care of you."

The boy's pudgy fingers played with the collar around his father's neck. Gurgling in curiosity. He cradled his sons head as he wiped the dribble from his mouth. He didn't even want to think about how much he would miss this boy. Readjusting the child in his arms so he wouldn't see the collar, he held the child's hand. A small hand wrapped tightly around his finger. "I'm gonna miss you boy, more then you know."

He didn't realize that Elizaveta was in the room with them. Tears where in her eyes. "Whats happened to you Gilbert? You can't say these things, this isn't you!"

Putting the boy back in his cradle he hugged his son's mother. "There's something I need to talk to you about."

Soon the afternoon became evening, and the evening became night. Step by step he explained the bruises, the electric collar, Russia's plan and his. They would escape and he would remain behind. Russia had tested the collar on him, crippling him for several seconds, just so he would get a taste of it if he did escape. The original plan was that they would all escape, but now he had no choice but to remain behind.

"How would we escape?" she said, while shaking against his chest. He stroked her hair.

"There's a transport crossing the border tomorrow. I talked to some people, you guys will be on it in a few days. With luck you'll be in Germany by the end of the week."

"Why can't we stay?"

"Cause I don't want you and Frederick around that bastard. He threatened both of you. I don't wanna take any risks."

Suddenly Elizaveta was kissing him fiercely on the lips. Reaching her hands below the hem of his boxers, teasing him. He resounded appropriately, kissing her while nearly ripping her nightgown off of her.

They where both thankful the baby was fast asleep, but even then Elizaveta found it hard to mask the moans Gilbert conjured from her as he playfully teased her with his tongue.

As the pressure built up within her core she grabbed Gilbert's hair pulling her up to her level, where she tasted her own salty juices on his lips.

"Wanna try something new?"

Before he could say anything she rolled over onto her stomach, rubbing her buttocks against his groin seductively.

"I'm not fucking you like a dog Eli."

She rolled back over onto her back, her eyes full of understanding. Remembering the pain and humiliation in his eyes when Russia intruded on them, the possible night their son was conceived. He didn't want to treat her like that, especially when a similar experience was so painful for him.

She pushed him up against the head board, so he sat upright before straddling his waist.

"Is this better?" she whispered seductively in his ear, grinding her pelvis against his.

He shuddered in ecstasy. Shakily saying yes, before devouring her throat and sucking on her tender skin.

Grabbing her hips in his hands he guided her down on his erect cock. She moaned as he filled her, her walls conforming to his size.

Their lips flickered across in a fleeting kiss, before his nails dug into her hips and he guided his hips in a gyrating motion against one another.

She grabbed his hand from her hips, keeping her rhythm as her breasts bounced up and down. She held his hands above his head as she rode him. Their breaths hot and heavy against their cheeks.

They both tried to suppress their groans, not wanting to wake Frederick. But the effort soon proved futile and moans echoed within the room. That was the night Frederick proved himself to be a heavy sleeper.

He shock one hand free, allowing her to grip his shoulder as their release neared. His hand re-gripping her hip, holding it tight against his hips arching his back as he came inside her.

She too arched her back, her body twitching in orgasm, before collapsing on top of him in utter satisfaction.

"I love you."

"Forever and always?"

"Forever and always."

He cupped her face and kissed her, even though they where both exhausted and worn from their tryst. They knew this would be their last time together. Neither wanted to think about it.

They fell asleep in a tangled mess of limbs, wishing the night will never end.

()()()

He carried Frederick to the truck the next morning. Elizaveta walking by his side, a knapsack slung over her shoulder filled with a few meager belongings along with which was their marriage contract and Frederick's birth certificate.

They where both silent, they had already said everything they needed to say.

The truck was sitting by the road, loading its cargo. A few passengers meandering by, waiting to board. He paused at the edge of the forest, a squiggling Frederick in his arms. The boy looked at him, as if saying "I don't want to go!" or " Don't leave!"

Fog swirled thickly around the landscape. They were illegal smugglers after all, the more eerie the landscape the better for their business.

Elizaveta kissed him, holding him tightly for a few seconds resting her forehead against his. Neither wanted to be the one to say goodbye.

Wrapping her coat around her she climbed into the back of the truck. Gilbert kissed the head of his son before handing him up to his mother in the truck.

He could tell she was trying not to cry. He hoped it wasn't so obvious with him.

The roar of the engine soon came to life, the whole truck shaking in response. He slowly backed away into the shadow's of the forest, where he felt he belonged. He watched the truck drive away, disappearing into the fog which carried his wife and child across the border.

He had never felt so alone.

()()()

He was dreading going back to that room. It always had Elizaveta, but she was gone now and so was his boy.

As he entered the Russian's manor he was greeted by a not too happy Belarus, her favored knife tight in her fist. "Where were you?"

"Out."

"Where's your wife?"

He was silent.

"Russia's waiting for you in his office." And then she left, turning on her heel and disappeared from view.

()()()

He never thought Ivan would rape him again.

"You helped them escape!" He screamed as he swung the pipe.

"You do know that because that brat of yours is gone I lost the eastern German territory. Now those capitalistic pigs that have control of your brother will claim your son as their own. My empire is falling apart and all because of you!"

More blows soon followed and he felt the blood rise in his throat and drip from the corners of his mouth.

"Get up!" he said kicking him, pushing him to his feet.

His came into contact with the wall and felt handcuffs click into place around his wrists. The rest was a blur as Russia dragged him down into the back room of the basement. The place where you never wanted to end up was the place where he was heading and ending.

He shuddered as he felt the noose slide around his neck and tighten. This is really where it all would end.

Elizaveta.

Ludwig.

Frederick.

Goodbye.

()()()

It was raining the day she arrived, a sleeping baby against her chest under her soaking her jacket. Timidly she knocked on the front door.

Italy answered, she wasn't in the mood to smile.

"Miss Hungary! How nice of you to visit! Oh look a baby! He's so little and pretty! Why does he look like Germany?"

"It's nice to see you Italy, but I need to see Germany." She adjusted the baby in her arms. "Sooner would be better then later."

He skipped off down the hallway, looking for the Germanic nation. She timidly stepped inside, shedding her rain soaked cloak and sitting down on the couch.

Ludwig walked a few moments later, surprised. The silence was deafening.

"How is my brother?" His eyes where on the baby.

"He was fine the last I saw him, but Russia…."

"Russia executed him didn't he?"

"He had us leave before anything happened, he didn't want us to see anything."

Frederick squirmed awake. "Do you want to meet your nephew?"

"Thats Gilbert's son?"

She nodded, not wanting to think about what Gilbert was going through at the moment.

"He looks like Gilbert."

"Do you wanna hold him?"

He nodded, holding the baby in his arm's at arms length, observing him before holding him more closely.

"What's his name?"

"Gilbert named him Frederick."

She thought she saw a smile flicker onto Germany's face, before sadness.

What had happened? Something had gone horribly wrong.

()()()

The package had arrived earlier that day. It was just a ramshackle wooden box, poorly nailed together, and post-marked from Russia.

Ludwig didn't think much of it. He just picked it up from the front porch and set it on the kitchen table, prying it open with a pry bar. Brushing aside the packaging hay he discovered the content of the package and found himself throwing up in the sink.

There lay Gilbert, curled up in the small box surrounded by hay. His head laying at an awkward angle his eyes cold and lifeless. Motley purple bruises encircled his right eye and face. His clothes where worn and tattered. The thing that scared Ludwig the most was the noose still hanging around his neck and the blood was still fresh from the scrapes on his neck and the dried open wounds on his forehead and cheeks.

He had hoped to see his brother again, but never like this. The last time he wanted to cry was when they lost the war and the wall was built.

He never thought he would have to call a funeral home, or hide a dead body from his favored italian.

()()()

The boy looked so much like Gilbert, pure and untarnished. He was all that was left of Gilbert in this world and for that he was grateful.

Then the Hungarian procured the marriage certificate. So Gilbert had finally gotten it together and confessed his feelings for the woman he had loved all his life. He had never thought she would feel the same way.

"Russia sent back his corpse just the other day," he said bluntly.

A look of shock overtook her face. She looked as if she was about to cry.

"The coroner laid him out in the basement, the funerals the day after tomorrow. I'm glad you arrived when you did."

She found herself rushing toward the basement. She had too see him again. Running down the basement stairs without a second thought.

He was laid out on a table, most of his clothes stripped from his pale body which was decorated with bruises and recently cleaned wounds. His eyes where closed and his face looked oddly peaceful. Scars and torn flesh decorated his neck and a noose lay on the ground beside the table.

Russia had killed her husband and all she wanted to do was cry. She would have preferred a divorce over this, anything instead of weeping over the corpse of the man she loved.

She took his stone cold hand into hers. Even frozen in death it was still strong, persistent like he was in life. She weeped, kissing his knuckles.

"I love you Gilbert, my Prussian."

"Forever and always, my Elizaveta."

()()()

It was a solemn funeral. Quiet as expected, completed with bleak gray skies. Yet whispers ran throughout the crowd that came.

"Prussia is no more."

"The German state is broken."

"Everything is shattered!"

Ludwig acted like he didn't hear them. But as the minutes ticked by they became harder to ignore.

Finally he broke. He would not stand for this ignorance any longer.

Scooping his nephew up in his arms, he took his place upon the pulpit. Holding a squirming Frederick up for the crowd to see he said, "The Teutonic Knights and the Third Reich have come and gone, taking their places in the archives of history. My brother may be gone, but the Prussian spirit lives on through his son, Frederick! The German states where never shattered and never will be because of the blood that binds them! We are descendants of the great Germania. We will never be broken!"

Like a miracle the clouds overhead parted and a burst of sunshine fell through, illuminating the funeral grounds. A breeze soon followed, rustling the hair on Frederick, Ludwig, and Elizaveta's heads.

For reasons unknown Frederick smiled, gurgling happily as if he was trying to laugh.

Ludwig and Elizaveta could only conjure one logical reason: Gilbert was there and always would be. Forever and always.

~The End~

A/N: Behold! One of the longest one-shots ever! Over 6,000 words, might as well be a novelette!

I have a thing for Hetalia fan-fictions that contain historical accuracy. This one in particular has many references to a documentary I watched about eastern germany during the cold war.

Facts:
-Hungary and Germany where both part of the Soviet Union, possibly close allies behind the iron curtain.
- As the Iron Curtain neared collapse and Hungary separated from the Union, hundreds of eastern germans fled across the borders escaping into Hungary, before proceeding into the western part of Germany.
-Prussia/Eastern Germany is currently a micro-nation/territory, under control of the main German Nation.
-I love PruHun!

So theres some insight into the inspiration of this story. Hope you like it and found it interesting!

Also, that last little speech Ludwig gives about German brotherhood. That comes from personal experience being of german origin. My father's side of the family is extremely german, a lot of them are not surprisingly in engineer-like careers, proud, and very close knit. This is of course in contrast to my mother's side of the family, which is very spread out, humble, and artsy.

What can I say? They get the stereotypes pretty accurate in the show.

Please comment and let me know what you think! Updates for my other multi-chaptered stories are on the way! Thank you for reading!