The way I figure it, every RomexGermania fan has to do their own version of this scene at least once.

Especially if you're into the historical canon.

And if you're weird/fanatical like me, you do it more than once, because you are a fandom masochist and eat this angst for breakfast. Like cereal.

disclaimer! Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himuruya.


The sun's heat had been leeched by the ground, and despite the chill air he could feel the warm dirt under his feet.

It was an odd feeling.

Adrenaline raced through his veins, even as his blood ran cold with shock, horror, and the pain of the betrayal that stared at him with those icy, unforgiving blue eyes belonging to the man he had thought was his best friend.

The man he had trusted.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispered, hoarsely.

The cold eyes stared back at him. No response.

"Please…Germa-"

Suddenly, the other leapt at him, slamming him against a tree, knocking his breath away.

"Silence," the attacker hissed, holding a long knife against the man's throat, "Don't you dare say my name, you scum, don't you dare." His eyes, which had been expressionless, glittered with inhuman rage and some other emotion the man couldn't place. He wrapped one long fingered hand around his assailant's wrist, trying to force the knife away.

"Oh no…" the blonde suddenly twisted the knife downwards and slid it sharply between his ribs.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. The knife went in…the man gasped. The blade was cold –so cold- and it was on fire.

He looked quickly up into the ice blue eyes and saw pain there, pain that all but matched his own. And all he could recognize was that the man holding the knife –twisting the knife- was beautiful –so beautiful- even as the man was killing him.

Dying.

He reached out and took one of the long blonde braids in his trembling hand, bringing it to his face softly.

"Don'tyoutouchme," the attacker spat and recoiled, dragging the knife sickeningly from his victim's chest.

A scarlet tear dropped from the blade, sinking into the dirt.

"Ahhh…" the dying man groaned and slid down the ground. A dark stain blossomed on his tunic, a macabre flower. He looked helplessly into his killer's eyes. "…Why?" he whispered, voice cracking and twisting with the pain of the wound and the word.

The blonde's face contorted with agony and he sank to his knees, fingernails digging into his palms.

He looked up, and moved slowly forward, clutching at the bloody tunic and staring wildly into the man's eyes.

"I…did it…because I had to, Roma," he whispered, breathing uneven and ragged. "I was being pushed…pushed out. I had no choice. I love you too much to see you fall so far."

"…But wouldn't you always be there to catch me when I fell?" Rome murmured, gazing up at him helplessly, pleadingly.

"Oh, shut up, you fool," the blonde whispered, brokenly. "Understand. Please." He leaned forward and kissed Rome gently on his bloodless lips.

"German…ia…" Rome breathed, harshly.

"I'm sorry, so sorry…I'm sorry sorry sorry…"

But all the apologies in the world were no good now.

It was over.

It was done by his hand.

It was all his fault.


GERMANIA! *weeps tears of pain*

It might be a little confusing with all the pronouns, but I was being a bitch and didn't feel like typing out any names til the end 'cause my mind told me that it would make the wretched thing more dramatic. IDK.