Hiya! Sabian here. I decided to try writing in Ameroth's style, since she dared me to do it. Expect her to have something weird and strange up since I'll be daring her to do something as well. Any suggestions?

He staggers, drops his sword. Gilbert (bloodflecked face and sharp smiles) grins at him wildly, and Roderich feels that there is something missing from the other's gaze. The sound his rapier makes when it hits the ground is all that can be heard aside from the drip of blood. The sky is painted with it, painted with crimson and fire. Roderich wonders if what is missing is sanity. Then he collapses to his knees, blood rushing from his burning throat, it spews onto the ground like a child flicking paint onto canvas. It stains the rubble.

"You're weak," Gilbert is saying. Roderich doesn't want to listen, but the voices push themselves into his mind. "You've always been a loser and you'll always be one." And then Austria feels something, he feels the desire to not be pathetic anymore. He wants that bastard Prussia to know that he can hold his own, that he is not a weakling. He struggles to his feet, violet eyes glinting in defiance and pure anger, and they look like jewels amidst the carnage of war.

There is a scream, and Roderich hears it. He hears the pain and-

-and then Gilbert is slamming him against the rough brick wall, and he's pushed his head back with one hand under his chin. He swallows, and the move is clearly visible on his throat. Gilbert laughs, dark, low, seductive. Roderich can feel a rush (of lust) pass through him, and he shivers. The movement does not go unnoticed by the other nation.

He takes a step back. Releases his chin.

Gilbert reaches a hand out and pulls the other country closer by his hair (he's avoiding Mariazell) and then kisses him harshly, roughly, painfully.

"You can't beat me in war," he hisses when he's done, "then you definitely can't beat me in love."