The noise rang through the whole house, bouncing back to his ears in an echo. Had he been outside, he might have seen the whole world freeze as the piano screamed. Wicked tendrils shot up, the sinister green aura that had been around the piano reforming. The tendrils snaked around Roderich, forcing a majority of his muscles to tense. His fingers branched out, stretching, no longer touching the sleek ivory keys of the piano. The tendrils fogged his vision, a head splitting strain on his eyes following as the magic entered him. He gagged and choked on the substance as it dried his throat. Closing his eyes, he winced as though that might ease his pain.

It had been a gift, the piano. His old one had been worn and in need of replacing. One too many pranks had finally taken its toll on the beautiful piece and Roderich had been in need of a new one. A friend of his, a certain island nation with an affinity for magic, had offered him the one that had rested in his sitting room. The instrument had gone untouched for years after said nation had given up on playing the piano. He had presented it with a warning though that unused magic may linger in it as his house was saturated by all the spells he had cast over the years.

Not having heeded the warning as much as he probably should have, Roderich took the offer on the grounds that the instrument had been well taken care of and sounded as wonderful as its predecessor. After it had been moved into his home, he was reminded once more of the magic properties that it may have possessed.

"Magic comes with a price, Roderich. I doubt that anything will actually happen with this piano, but remember that the more powerful the spell, the more the toll will be on the caster," Arthur had told the Austrian in warning.

At the current moment, Roderich refused to even think about the consequence that would follow if he managed to tap into the once dormant magic. It seemed to boil beneath his skin, bringing him to life while seeming to kill him simultaneously. No one had ever expressed how painful magic was when one chooses to use it. Then again, perhaps it could be because he had never grown accustomed to the arcane or because he had not practiced at a younger age. Roderich knew that he had to bare it though and harness what he could so that he could achieve his goal. He would do whatever it took to save Gilbert. He was willing to pay the price.

Years had passed since Gilbert had lost his status as a nation avatar. It was hard to call him human as he had yet to age or vanish, but many people believed it to be soon coming. He no longer needed to serve as East Germany even though his brother attempted to give him some purpose by allowing him to help when multiple problems arose at once. The one person who seemed least willing to accept it had been the albino, himself. He built himself up to be the great and powerful nation he had always been, repressing the very idea that he was anything less than such. Roderich thought him a fool for having gone on with the charade. At one point though, Gilbert had to have accepted that he no longer held the status of a nation otherwise time would not have been able to age him and make him ill.

He must have made peace with it and Roderich could only curse himself for not having realized it as Gilbert had. All of the signs had been there…

Weeks ago, Roderich noticed the cough. It had started out slight, one that someone might have when there was a small tickle in the back of their throat, a meager cold. Neither of them ever brought it up, but one of them knew that the Prussian had begun his final few days. Gilbert had gone out of his way to see Roderich for almost all of them. They bickered as often as they always had, but there were hidden and more affectionate tones in between those arguments, the ones from Gilbert heavily suggesting that he loved the other deeply. Perhaps he had not trusted Roderich with the truth or he wanted to spare him the anguish that would come with the hidden knowledge.

There seemed no need to worry until shortly after the cough had started. It had grown more aggressive, the sound harsh. Gilbert took more and more time to recover after each fit, many of which he finished panting as though he had just run five kilometers. Phlegm dotted each cough. His lungs must have been drowning in it. Roderich had expressed his concern over the cough. Surely nothing so trivial would stop the mighty Prussia, but it was clear that he had been mistaken.

Phlegm began to run red with blood yet still Gilbert managed to smile and carry on how he always had. Worry drove Roderich insane as he attempted to force him to lie down and rest. If Gilbert pushed his body, it would fail him. The pianist had been right about that much, but oh how he wished for once that he had been wrong and Gilbert correct.

Today had been like all the other days before it. The Prussian had stayed the night before, joining Roderich in his bed. He had been busy dressing when out of the corner of his eye, he watched Gilbert flex his fingers, staring at them in odd fascination. It never occurred to him to have been worried. Roderich was spending the day at home, enjoying a day off with Gilbert.

"You know… I don't think I've ever seen you cry," Gilbert had mused at the kitchen table as he watched Roderich fix himself a cup of coffee.

The Austrian had knit his brows together. "Please make more sense if you would," he replied before sipping from his mug. It scalded his tongue but he ignored it, knowing that he needed the drink to really think properly at such an early hour.

Chin resting in the palm of his hand, Gilbert mumbled, "Well, when I had to leave and the wall went up… you didn't seem all too upset, Priss."

His eyes widened, glasses sliding down his nose as if he were appalled by the accusation, which he had been. He frowned. "Gilbert, I had problems here in my own country," he tried, searching for an excuse. However, they both knew that was what had occurred, and that had been the issue. He faltered then. "You know I missed you, Susser," he breathed.

The albino nodded. Roderich had yet to notice the less affectionate nickname that had been thrown at him first. Gilbert hoped he would, if only that would have put more distance between them. "Yeah," he agreed. "We both know you bottle everything up anyway."

"Gilbert, what is this about?"

"Nothing, just go back to your coffee, Specs."

Something was wrong, horribly wrong. It was the only explanation, but Roderich never pushed Gilbert to tell him. There was a reason that Gilbert had brushed the question off, but the musician had no way of knowing that the Prussian was hiding his impending doom.

His house had been utterly silent, devoid of all noise aside from the few sounds Roderich made while he sipped at his coffee and ate. Gilbert had declined breakfast in favor of watching him. The staring did not unnerve him, it was the muteness that did. He loathed silence when it was present in his home despite how often he seemed to throw a fit about the boisterous presence of the other.

Seeking refuge from the soundlessness, he retreated to his music room after breakfast. Roderich sat himself down at the bench, poising himself as he thought of what piece he would start with. He listened as Gilbert shuffled into the doorway. The Prussian always had loved listening to him play, even if listening required him to hide out of sight.

Fingers finally gracing the keys, Roderich began to play. Gilbert swayed in the doorway as he listened to the haunting tune. He watched those graceful fingers as they pressed against the keys. Upon taking a few steps to see if he might be able to sit down beside Roderich, he felt his chest tighten. It was a small discomfort at first, but no sooner had he tried to massage his chest to ease it then he dropped to the ground. In what seemed like a distant world, he heard a familiar voice call his name as the piano stopped. Someone had rushed over to his side.

"Gilbert," Roderich called again. He set a hand to his neck, checking for a pulse. His finger tips felt nothing beneath them but smooth skin. "Gilbert!" His voice squeaked, strained in panic. Setting both hands to the other's chest, he started compressions to see if he might be able to bring him back. After the appropriate amount, he carefully tilted his head back, lifting his chin as he pinched Gilbert's nose. Inhaling, he covered the other's mouth with his own before blowing in, clenching his eyes shut. He did it twice before starting again with the compressions. "Dammit, Gilbert," he shouted.

He must have gone on for thirty minutes before he finally stopped, having run himself ragged. Roderich panted, pleading with the Prussian one last time, "Gilbert please..." The body had gone cold and the skin had lost all signs of life. It was too late.

His fingers curled into Gilbert's T-shirt as he hung his head and his eyes stung as he did his best to hold back tears. He could not mourn yet. Someone had to alert Gilbert's brother. Pulling out his cell phone, he searched through his contacts for the number in order to make the call.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a dim glow emanate from the piano. Shocked, Roderich let the phone fall from his fingers. The clatter of it against the ground snapped him out of his trance and he scooped it up, eyes never leaving the instrument. While he knew very little about magic, he knew that it was essentially limitless. Gilbert had been dead only a few minutes surely he could bring him back.

Roderich stormed the piano then. He nearly threw himself down on the bench before slamming his fingers down onto the keys, playing the note that started all of his current physical agony. There was a determined glint in his violet eyes as he opened them again.

His face was wet. He would have panicked, but his mind could focus enough to tell him that he was not bleeding. No, tears had begun to stream down his face, a mixture of the grief and torment that struck him.

'Anything' he told to the magic flooding his body and mind. 'Take anything you need from me, just bring him back.' There had been no vocal response, but he seemed to know what it was that would be required in exchange for Gilbert's life. Roderich would pay the price though; he had already resolved as much.

Able to halt the magic for a few final moments, he dialed the number on his phone with trembling fingers. He set the cool piece to his ear, listening as a gruff voice on the other end answered. "Ludwig here. "

"Ludwig… Gilbert," Roderich breathed. He felt a contraction in his own chest and the phone clattered to the ground once more. Unable to hold himself up, he fell back, sending himself and the piano stool crashing to the ground.

The price for bestowing life onto another was to yield one's own.

Author's Notes:

I received this prompt a while ago in my tumblr askbox and decided to finally practice some angst rather than my usual fluff. I extend my deepest thanks to my editor and mentor for this fic, tumblr's smileinthedark.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed.