I have recently discovered that I love writing about HRE's death. I know not why. But, here you go. Strongly hinted PrussiaxHRE.

Obvious disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine. :I

I am dying. I am in pain. I feel I am on fire, but I know I'm not. I can feel myself fall back; the blades through my chest slipping further, deeper. I was momentarily blinded by the pain. The feel from the blades shooting up and exploding in my skull. My armor is useless, the swords had easily pierced through the thin metal.

My vision came back to me. My eyes rolled around, trying to find something to look at, something to clasp on to. My chin feels warm; I feel I am coughing. My body it's the ground and I'm coughing harder. Blood spills from my mouth, soiling my royal attire. My eyes grasp something: a face.

A face I know all too well.

Those eyes looked sad, regretful. I couldn't understand what was happening. He pulled this hands away and I saw speckles of red dotted on them. My gaze dropped lower and I noticed his sward was neither in it's sheath nor his hands. In a sudden, painful, horrifying realization, I discovered that his favored weapon had buried itself deep into my chest. I cried out in pain and surprise. My heart was breaking.

The teen I had given my heart to, promised my soul to, had killed me. He had another sword, not his own, also pierced through my chest. He wanted me to die. How long had he wanted this? I tried to call out to him, to say his name. I could only gurgle.

His lips had curved into a frown. A disgusted, angry, sad frown. My fingers were twitching. I ached for him, I wanted to touch him. I wanted him to hold me. He knelt down beside me and dipped his neck down, pressing his lips to my cheeks, kissing away my silent, pained tears. Finally, he pressed his pale lips against my own bloodied pair.

"Es tut mir leid, Liebling." His voice found my ears as my eyes slipped closed. His own crimson orbs watched my face as his fingers brushed my quickly cooling cheeks.

The madness around us continued. No one noticed our two still figures. Many died, though none as significant as myself.

Finally, my killer stood and turned me carefully, tenderly, drawing the blades from my body. He cast his solemn gaze upon me only once more before turning and leaving my side forever.