I don't own Hetalia

141)

"Oh."

"Nein, bruder!"

"I understand."

"Gilbert!"

"Because I'm no longer a nation-"

"Preussen!"

"-I'm not welcome?"

"Bruder, bitte!"

"... fine."

"Nein! Warten, bruder! Warten!"

"You can all go fuck yourselves."

"Bruder!"

142)

"LET ME GO! You were my brother! Why do you do this?"

"NO! You belong to me!"

"Your stubbornness will be your downfall! I will be free!"

The silence is deafening, and Alfred's eyes widen as he begins to shake.

The poisonous green eyes that catch his own make him sick. The malicious smirk makes his chest ache like his heart was made of iron.

"Never."

143)

"What is your name?"

She glances up, her dark skin shining. She half-heartedly wipes the sweat off her face before looking once more to the ground, as was proper.

"Martha, mister."

She gasps as the tanned but ever so clearly white hands clasp her cheeks - the vast divide is imprinted in her mind, so much that it haunts her people in their every movement, in their very dreams - and soft lips press themselves to her forehead.

When he draws back, and she is so shocked she cannot move. He is extraordinarily handsome, and she has never felt so comfortable with a man is her entire life, not even her husband. All the stranger, he was white. It would have made her uneasy, had it not felt as if she had just been soothed by her father.

"Be strong, Martha. This is the land of the free. That means everyone - I promise you. I will no longer hold you in chains."

He begins to walk away, and she cannot believe her ears when he turns again, to shout to the slave-woman working in the field.

"You will be free!"

144)

Hungary didn't know that it was possible to be so torn.

That it was possible to love two men equally.

That it was possible to want them both.

145)

"Do you trust me?" America yells over the sounds of the engine.

"Do I have much of a choice?" England screams back, gripping tighter to the larger man's neck. He should be sitting back in his seat, but there he gets far too much of a view of how high they are.

America turns his head, and manages to capture the shorter blond's lips in a quick but intense kiss. When he pulls back, he leaves England dazed. he asks again, this time seriously.

"I know how to fly. I can do this. But you have to trust me, Arthur."

It takes a few moments, but the older man swallows and gives a small nod. The grin is back on America's face, and he whoops.

"Hold on tight!"

Then he pitches the stick forward.

146)

"And then, Lovi gave me the flower! He had the cutest face, and he looked as red as a little tomato! Ah, Lovi~ So cute-"

"He's mine." The venomous claim completely derailed any continuation Spain had planned, and the whole room fell silent. The other six members around them looked towards the culprit whose eyes were hidden by his hair, and Spain tried and failed to say something. The deadly intent behind the statement had thrown him off totally. Eventually, all that came out was a strangled name.

"... Feli?"

Veneziano looked up so quickly his hair whipped through the air, and his amber eyes glowed with a vicious glare that was directly in all its entirety at the Spaniard. Everyone moved back slightly, the threat of violence from the nation who was widely regarded as the weakest member of the G8 shocking.

The Italian slowly stood, and looked intently into each man's eyes. He stopped, lingering at Spain, and bored into the man's wary green orbs.

"Lovino is mine."

Dazed and confused, Spain must have given something resembling a nod, and suddenly, the atmosphere was gone. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief while they looked at each other, contemplating what exactly had just happened.

Veneziano sat back down in his seat with his eyes closed and an oblivious smile, before clapping his hands.

"Buono!"

147)

"You will leave him alone!" Prussia roared, his voice emphasised by his shooting up and slamming his hands down on the desk. He watched with some disgust as England did not react to his outburst, choosing to ignore it.

The silence was full of everything but sound, until once again, the short blond spoke up. His words were carefully chosen and delivered, and even Prussia could see that the former empire was close to losing it.

"Well, what would you like us to do, Prussia? Someone will pay for the crimes committed, and if it is not to be Germany, then who?"

The fervour he had previous held drained out of him, and the Prussian sat back down and held his face in his hands. How did it come to this?

"... It wasn't his fault. He's young; he didn't know what he was doing." The quiet murmur was unheard, futile, and desperate at best. He knew it would have no effect, but his love and loyalty demanded that he at least try.

"Excuse me?"

It was at that moment, that Prussia knew his life had reached its climax. So, this was what all of the pointless wars and tension had been for? Not for a peaceful future, but for one reckless move that could make or break him. He wondered absently what his brother would think of this, but found himself relieved the blond wasn't in the room. It wasn't a hard decision really, but it wasn't until it came out his mouth that he knew what he had chosen. Stupid and foolish, but really - this was Prussia. He didn't think things through, and when he came back victorious, he rubbed it in everyone's faces. It was a choice that one did on the battlefield, not in a meeting.

Perhaps it was his militaristic side showing through. But really, that was where Prussia belonged. Standing in a puddle of the blood of his enemies. A sword in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Why the hell would he want the easy option?

The peaceful one.

Gah.

He had sworn long ago, that if he went down, it would be fighting.

He stood up straight, and steadily gazed each of the allies in the eye, never flinching. When his attention returned to England, he gave one last wicked grin. Prussia would face this with the confidence of the ancients. Because he was Prussia, and he was awesome.

Consequences be damned.

"I said me!"

148)

"D-Danmark?"

He can taste the other man's breath on his lips, there is barely any space between them. He is sure the idiot must have drugged him, because he begins to feel dizzy; in a good way. His stomach is doing somersaults, and his chest is moving faster to inhale more air to keep up with demand.

Two gloved hands cup his cheeks and the warmth he can feel through the leather counteracts the chill of the day.

He tries to look away from those icy blue eyes which have trapped him. He attempts to summon some anger at the amusement in them, but ultimately fails.

Denmark smirks.

"Ja, Norge?"

149)

"N-No!"

Romano backs away slowly, his eyes wide with horror.

"I-I didn't mean to... no... I..."

His shaky fingers touch his lips, unconsciously savouring the taste that lingered on them. When he realises what he is doing, his hand speeds back to his side, and he shrieks.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! Not you!"

He covers his eyes for a moment, before shaking his head vigorously.

"I-I have to leave... caro Dio..."

He ignores the large hands reaching out to stop him as he runs through the open doorway.

He had to get out of here. He had to try to bury and forget this. Because...

Because some things can never be.

No matter how much you want them to.

150)

China was glad that when the other nations witnessed Korea claim her breasts, they didn't notice that the younger man actually grabbed something.

151)

In some ways, seeing him again was very awkward.

"Papa?"

"Oui, Matthieu?"

"Could I have some macarons, s'il te plait?"

"Ah, mon fils! Angleterre didn't ruin your appetite! Dieu merci, mon petit ange!"

And in some ways...

Not so much.

152)

Prussia frowns as he looks down at the tiny child, curled up in a blood covered black cape shivering.

As he picks the infant up, holding him close to his body, he senses something shift.

Something huge.

He ignores it, and moves to find his horse. The child needs to be warmed immediately.

He is not worried.

Against his chest, delicate eyelids shift, and cool blue eyes peer out.

The first thing Germany remembers is the warmth of a saviour.

153)

"What the hell did you just say?"

England doesn't know what to do. All his careful years of hiding it, avoiding it and all out denying it have been rendered pointless in a momentary lack of control. All these years of wanting what he cannot have, but managing to conceal all manner of longing. Worst of all, it happened with America.

As he starts to tear up, he realises that his life has just gone to hell in a hand basket.

"Did you just call me Francis?"

154)

He wraps his arms around the taller man's neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss and running his hands through his silver hair.

The taste is addictive, and he cannot get enough.

"Roderich..."

He shudders, and feels a smirk against his lips. Before he can react, his mouth is devoured once more, and he can't suppress a loud moan.

A hand pulls his head to the side, and suddenly those wicked lips are on his neck, drawing out sounds he didn't know he could make.

It doesn't matter how many times they do this, it still feels like the first.

As his shirt is unbuttoned and thrown somewhere in the room, he forgets that in the morning he will have to go back to his wife, who is waiting for him at home.

Because right now, in this moment, he belongs right here.

"Gilbert..."

155)

When Russia hesitates in pulling back, Belarus knows she has finally won.

And yet, the victory doesn't feel as good as she thought it would.

156)

England rolls his eyes.

Yes, for all France's charms, the man still snores like a pig.

157)

"Uh, dude."

A sigh. "What, America?"

"Your notes are floating."

"Oh! Flying Mint Bunny! You brought my things! Thank you!"

"No problem, England!"

"Goodbye!" A wave.

"... Wow. I really need to lay off the cola."

158)

"Get out!" England jumps as a very French scream erupts from behind him.

"Wha~"

"Get out of my kitchen, diable! Before you curse it! Sortez!"

"Hey- what are you- get off of me, you fr- stop it!"

"Sortez!"

159)

"It's Superman!"

"America, what are you-?"

"And Superboy!"

"Sealand?"

"Here to save the world from Iggy's cooking!"

"... Bugger off!"

160)

Prussia tries to stop a smile as the shot once again misses the target. The look on the shooter's face is one he knows has been on his own many times in the past. He fails at his attempt to remain stoic, but luckily the blond is concentrating far too much on the task at hand to notice his elder brother's amusement.

However, he does notice it when two large arms wrap themselves around his body, and the sudden closeness brings a very faint flush to his cheeks - not a blush. He does not blush.

The hands mould over his own, holding the once heavy weapon easily, and he feels slightly downtrodden at how strong his brother is. He wants to be that strong one day. Strong enough to protect his brother like Preussen protects him. Most of all he wants to be taller than his brother. Coming to the older man's chin just isn't cutting it.

A voice speaks into his ear, and he shivers when the warm air hits his skin, causing goose flesh to appear.

"Like this."

A chin rests on his shoulder, as the man's body holds him steady. His brother's hands shift his grip slightly, and suddenly it feels much easier to hold it up.

"Hold still."

The blond squeaks when his brother puts a foot between his legs and kicks his foot gently to the right, widening his stance slightly.

"That's better. Now, line up the bar."

He does as he is told, making sure to hold it still. It is... simpler now.

He holds the target in his sights, and tries his hardest to keep from shaking at the proximity between them. The supporting hands disappear, and he is left to hold the gun on his own.

Then Preussen speaks, and a shudder runs through his body.

"Now... fire."

A bang erupts in his ears, and with some shock, he realises he hit the crude circle directly in the centre. One of the hands return and tilt his astonished face to the side. He abruptly finds himself staring into brilliant crimson eyes, filled with pride.

"I knew you could do it, bruderlein."

This time, Germany really does blush.

I know, my darlings, it has been so long, no?

My apologies for a mucho late update, but I just started school again, and it's insane.

I worked really hard on this chapter, so please review and tell me what you think. You all seem to be ignoring me and not reviewing; I would really appreciate more reviews for the last chapter as well as this one, because the historical aspect took ages.

So, if you like it, love it, or hate it - please leave a review. I promise you, I love every single one you leave, even if I don't get back to some of you.

So, yeah. Adieu!

P.S. I know, no more prompts! But really, I don't feel I need them anymore, as so long as I think, inspiration just comes to me! Yay!