Author's note: This is a drabble based in an AU RP that I both run and play in. Sorry if it doesn't make to much sense outside of it.

Also, Ansehelm is my head cannon name for Germania. I'm sure the fannon name is different, but I think this one suits him better.

I talk too damn much.

Crosshair

He remembered watching his uncle tiptoe into the bedroom. It was late, and he knew the man was trying so carefully to be quiet, under the impression the boys were fast asleep.

Ludwig was. And the younger boy curled next to him, his pale lips parted slightly to allow the steady flow of breath into his lungs. And he looked just like an angel. Gilbert reached out a tentative hand to brush blonde locks from his brother's closed eyes. The younger boy didn't stir, and Gilbert smiled inwardly. Slowly, he sat up, his red eyes fixing on the figure of his uncle in the darkness.

The lights from the nightlife of the colony managed to peek through the drapes, and shed just enough to see by. And he remembered watching as Ansehelm removed his shirt. It was only then that Gilbert realized that his uncle never bared his chest. At least, not when people could see. The reason why was plain to see, in that brief instant before a different shirt was pulled over his shoulders. There were scars, two very large scars. One bisected his torso vertically, and the second ran perpendicular, splitting his body in half. They were ragged and ugly, a grotesque crosshair.

"Onkel… What happened to you?" He couldn't stop the words from coming out of his mouth. And he saw his uncle freeze. Gilbert tensed. It was a bad question. He shouldn't have asked it. And he remembered feeling frightened. But this wasn't his mother.

He remembered Ansehelm looking at him, his face set and serious, as it usually was. But he remembered seeing something else lining the edge of his uncle's face. Something like fear, but also akin to sorrow. "Gilbert," he said softly, "There are people in this world who will try to take everything they can from you. Don't ever let them. To you or your brother."

Those words have stayed in Gilbert's mind ever since, punctuated by the image of those scars.