Confrontation (Germany and Belgium)

[angelinehofstee]

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As she came upon it, the old castle, it seemed so bright. She was exhausted from all this retreating. In reality…to anyone else it was a worn down, dim castle. Its walls had been chipped, and the roof tiles were missing in several places. Windows had cracks or holes. The night made it almost invisible, save for a few candle lights here and there. Hardly anyone even paid it any attention anymore… but she remembered it. She was there when it was being built, she had been in it in it’s prime years. Now she came to it again for refuge. If you could call it a refuge. The German army had chased her small army as north as they could. However, they didn’t have much time to waste, the French army would be mobilizing and they needed to get out of her lands…though not permanently of course. Finishing her off would not be hard.

She glanced around the ruin’s walls, touching the one nearest to her lightly. My… had times changed. Once upon a time this was a fortress of it’s own. People made plans as to how they could overtake it. Strategy was needed. Now things were so different… Men were mowed down by machine guns. They sat in dirty filthy trenches like animals. It was so very depressing. Belgium thought about how battle used to be glorious and filled with honor. They were still wars, bloody and cruel, but at least a man could feel like a man when he fought. In this new age, they either rotted in a trench…or they ran out and never even got to see the enemy before they were filled with holes. Battles were not so personal. This is another reason Belgium was feeling anxious. She had not seen Germany in battle this entire time…hell she barely saw his troops in some battles. She had a lot to tell him.
“He was the last person…” she paused shaking her head. “…that I expected to try something like this.”

Belgium groaned and started to walk, looking for a good place to hide. She was on good terms with the relatively young nation, and she actually had liked him a lot. For a nation so young, he made many contributions to science and technology. It was quite admirable. She had seen him a few times, though it had been a while. So when the ambassador explained that the Germans demanded she let him through, it came as quite a shock. She was sure France would ignore her neutrality. He often attempted to put her under his control. But no...it was Germany. One German man went so far as to call her neutrality “…nothing more than a scrap of paper.” Belgium gnashed her teeth a bit at the thought. She would love to have a …word with him. But since she would probably never see him, Germany would have to do.

The candles strewn here and there helped, as did the moon light, in finding her way around. As she walked into one corridor, she noticed three men. “Squatters…” Belgium thought with a sigh. Of course there would have to be, who else put the candles here? But at the moment, they were in danger. She had this gut feeling, and intuition as a nation that she would meet her young accomplished enemy soon. She sternly told them to get lost, using both Flemish and French, as she wasn’t sure which they spoke. They fumbled away out of sight, not wanting to mess with the lady with the rifle strapped to her back.

The blonde glanced up. There were a few floorboards left from the second floor blocking her view, but other than that she could see a beautiful, pale moon. But then the floorboard caught her attention. Germany was stronger than her, both militarily and physically. She had heard of his enjoyment of training and the like. He could easily overpower her, and even though she had a gun, she only had a few bullets left. Another problem and advantage at the same time was the darkness. He wouldn’t be able to totally see her, but she would have difficulty sniping him as well. Luckily the stone floors amplified the sound of walking, especially if he was wearing boots which was a given. So when he came in…he would be noticed unless he was careful. Still she might end up having to fight him head on. In this case, she needed a clear advantage. Anyone with the least bit of fighting experience would know that height played a huge role in the outcome of a battle. If she was above him, she could snipe from above ( a strategy many of her people used when the German army marched through her cities.) and if she didn’t hit him, she could wait for the right moment and descend down full force, using the rifle as a sort of club. Stone age, but anything she could do would be fine. She couldn’t win the battle. And she knew that…but she would not give Germany any easy way out either. He would pay for his actions. She was only the beginning though. England was clever, Russia was strong, and France had burning resolve. They wouldn’t let him get away with it, she had faith in that. But softening the German army up before that would only bring good things.

Up she went, using the large dents and cracks for leverage. Going up this wall would be a challenge for anyone, but luckily Belgium was not just anyone. Still, the boots she wore were making it difficult to scale the wall. She kicked them off hurriedly and continued up. Once she jumped off the wall onto the boards she nearly fell. The board creaked and she could hear tiny splinters snapping. She then realized a fault in this plan. The boards were old, and while they could hold her weight. She would not be able to run or even move swiftly at all. Otherwise she could fall, and hurt herself, and make it painfully obvious to wherever she was.

She slowly placed one foot after the other and walked towards a patch of flooring that was near a pillar. This area was goof for hiding behind in case of any return fire, and also…the boards near pillars would have to be sturdier. From this spot she would initialize her assault. Now she could only wait. She crouched down to a comfortable position, and slowly took the rifle off of her back. Belgium then stopped moving completely and stared at the entrance of the particular room she was in.

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(( I hope I wrote the right kind of scene xD I thought it to be strange that she kinda knows hes coming, but I wanted her to be in a position to try and nail him. So please tell me if you'd like me to change it. I have never written a scene quite like this.))

[Germany]

So easy! They’re so weak and outmatched! Germany was feeling pretty damn good about himself. He’d been thrilled — make that elated — when he first heard that the German armies were finally mobilizing and would be going to war. Finally, a chance to put all that hard work, dedication, and training to the ultimate test, to get out there and prove his might to the world!

Oh, and to honor his alliance with Austria and Hungary, but as important as that was to his boss, his government, and who knew how many of his people, it wasn’t so important to him as Ludwig Herrmann, Oberleutnant in the Prussian force of the Imperial army. Yes, he was on good terms with those two — they were friends after all, and probably his and Prussia’s only true allies at the moment — and it was rotten what that Serbian had done to Austria’s crown prince, but honestly, Ludwig was just glad for a reason, any reason, to be fighting.

The strategy! The excitement! The thrill of kill or be killed, of pushing the body above and beyond all obstacles, of dominance and victory!

Okay, so it wasn’t all thrills and action all the time. Sitting in trenches had turned out not to be all he’d hoped. Actually, it’d gotten pretty boring after the first day or so. But thankfully he hadn’t had to do that much so far, not once howitzers like Big Bertha had been brought in to pound the Belgian fortresses to dust. Liège, Namur, Antwerp…all of them had been taken. The Belgians had thought having heavily-armored mostly-subterranean defense guns that looked like giant turtle shells coming halfway up out of the ground with guns poking out of them would make them invincible, but they had been gravely mistaken. Few things could stand up to German heavy artillery.

Belgium. What were you thinking?

Right from the start, it had been foolish of the little country to resist. If she had done the smart thing and let Germany and his men march right on through to France’s house unimpeded she could have saved her land and her people so much destruction, loss, and heartache. From a purely strategic perspective, it would have been better for both of them, saved them both a lot of time, hassle, supplies, and unneeded deaths. There was an upside though: the fighting had provided Ludwig and his men with some practice and experience, sharpening their skills as well as their wits and allowing them to test a lot of previously untested weaponry. So he couldn’t complain. The Schlieffen Plan was taking off without a hitch. The Belgians were losing their asses and their country had almost been completely subjugated.

All that remained now for a swift and decisive victory was to tie up a few loose ends and capture Belgium herself. Since the invasion had begun Germany had been searching for her; so far he had yet to so much as glimpse the pretty blonde nation. However, he was certain he would be meeting her again soon.

Maybe as soon as tonight.

At sunset his army had stopped and set up camp for the night after having chased the Belgium army all day. Morale was high and everyone knew victory was right around the corner. Of course, that didn’t mean they were letting down their guard: strategically-placed night sentries kept careful watch, and there were plenty of scouts out and about as well.

With energy, passion, and ambition to spare, Ludwig was one of those scouts.

And during the course of his scouting, he’d heard a stir of activity near an old, dilapidated castle that was almost invisible in the darkness.

Resistance fighters, or frightened refugees?

There was only one way to know. Using the landscape and cloak of night for cover, he ducked low and crept closer and closer to the big building, watching and listening intently.

Silence.

Stillness.

A gentle summer breeze ruffled the bushes and trees, working together with a few stray clouds overhead to shift the shadows cast by a pale crescent moon and hundreds of bright stars. All the colors of the daytime were muted to shades of gray, most detail lost to darkness. Typical nighttime outdoors. It made spotting potential dangers much harder, but at the same time Ludwig knew he would be just as hard for his enemies to spot. Thankfully his eyes had long since adjusted to the low-light conditions, and he was growing accustomed to not looking directly at anything of interest as peripheral vision was much better for making out detail in darkness.

After he had satisfied himself that no one was lying in ambush to snipe him in the nearby vicinity, Ludwig entered a crouching run and hid himself behind a big mound of bricks and rubble that was all that remained of an old watchtower.

That’s when he saw them.

Three dark human shapes rushed from the general area where Ludwig guessed the approximate location of the castle’s main entrance to be. Reflexively the German drew his Mauser Gewehr 98 rifle up tight and pointed the long barrel at the fleeing forms, his finger tightening over the trigger.

They were definitely not German soldiers — a quick pass through a particularly bright patch of moonlight revealed that — but they were carrying no weapons that Ludwig could see, and they did not appear to be the least bit interested in discovering hidden enemies. They were running away from the castle, chased off by someone or something inside.

Hmm. Interesting. Now I have to go in there. The idea was appealing: from his earliest days, Ludwig had always liked exploring the ruins of old buildings and settlements, particularly forts and castles. It was like a trip back in time envisioning how everything must have looked when it was whole and new, wondering what dramas had unfolded there, if anyone famous or infamous had visited, and what thoughts had crossed the occupants’ minds.

This would be fun.

But first he had to find a safe path where he could sneak up unobserved to the front door. He spent the next fifteen minutes doing this, testing the ground for landmines or traps with sticks and stones, dashing with his head lowered from cover to cover in short bursts of speed, peering around whatever he was hiding behind and taking in every detail like a vigilant deer before testing and dashing again.

That was easy.

He reached the main entrance with no interference and no sign of human life anywhere. Save for the sounds of nature, it was quiet as a grave.

The big wooden door of the castle still stood, but it was in serious disrepair and rotting away. It was off one of its main supports and locked into a permanently open position by the dried mud and dirt rising up around the dipping end of its bottom.

But the door was not the only entrance: the closer he had approached, the more entrances Ludwig had noticed. Sections of the wall were caved in or missing in places, and plenty of big, glass-free windows were low to the ground. It would be easy to sneak in through one of these openings, and perhaps wise.

After a quick moment’s deliberation, Ludwig skirted around the building and slipped in through a small cave-in in the side that was partially hidden by a young tree. In case someone was expecting him, he didn’t want to walk in and be shot before he had a chance to see or do anything. There could be snipers or grenade-happy Belgians hiding anywhere. He had no guarantee that the three men had been alone, that they weren’t simply running off as messengers or to get supplies.

Stay alert, he cautioned himself as he walked through an old corridor and over into another room, trying his best to muffle his footsteps by tip-toing and walking slowly.

Inside, the castle was a mess of decaying wood, decaying fabrics, crumbling stone, and broken glass. There were a few pieces of furniture and odds and ends here and there — remants of everyday life — but for the most part the building was empty save for the rubble of its collapse. The upper floors were mostly gone from the looks of it, but parts of them still remained intact, mostly around the walls and corners. There was just enough roof left to shelter a few rooms and the still-lit candles which flickered inside them from the wind and rain. One such room contained not only lit candles, but bedding and clothing pushed up into beds along a wall and empty containers of food. An open area nearby was covered with soot and freshly-burnt wood.

Ludwig stared at the campfire wonderingly, his rifle at his side. Someone’s definitely here. Or was here. Likely enemy troops. Maybe civilians. Maybe armed, dangerous civilians, but maybe not.

He poked around the room a little more before turning and heading into another, quietly trying to figure out just who he was dealing with here and how much of a threat they posed to him. He was still on the ground floor, and an experienced solider would have been looking up more often. However, Ludwig was inexperienced, and so caught up in his thoughts and checking behind shadows and corners that he forgot to do more than turn the occasional glance skyward.

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A/N: Ah, yes! Ludwig’s new to battle/war, has yet to see the ugly side of it up close and personal, and is pretty much a young, cocky, conquest-happy asshat here. His side is doing well in this stage of the war, and this is before anything all that bad has happened to him, so he’s a tad more optimistic than you usually see him.

Oberleutnant = Ludwig’s rank. It’s equivalent to a U.S. army First Lieutenant.

7.92 mm Mauser Gewehr 98 = Ludwig’s rifle.

Big Bertha = A famous howitzer heavy-artillery weapon that was especially good at destroying Belgian forts.

Schlieffen Plan = The German plan during WWI to avoid fighting a two-front war by first swiftly taking out France and surrounding areas in the west before turning to the east to deal with the Russians, who were known to take longer to mobilize.

[angelinehofstee]

The time that went by was not that long, but Belgium was not the kind of person that liked sitting still. Try as she could, she began to fidget and grow more restless by the minute. “No…Focus. Don’t let a stupid habit get in the way. One way or the other! I’m going to do this! ” Belgium thought gritting her teeth. The position was not comfortable, crouched like this, and even though it was a cool night, her hands were getting sweaty. She was beginning to feel tired and her eyes fluttered. Still she held her position, waiting for the blonde to wander in. She couldn’t explain why, but she just knew that this was the final stand. Whether Germany knew this was not known to her, and she hoped he was unaware. The wood creaked slightly.

The lie she kept repeating in her head, started to make her sick. She knew it wasn’t true, she knew it was just pep talk. Belgium had no chance from the beginning. Her fortresses and weapons were outdated, and her men were few. Even the guerilla warfare had not done much, though it was a brave action on behalf of her people. However, Belgium rarely asked herself why she did what she did. Why she stood up to Germany. Why she didn’t let him have his way. She was a nation now. Nations didn’t let other nations walk all over them without a fight. Nations didn’t just allow injustices made towards them or their allies to go unpunished. Germany had broken the law, the rule that deemed her untouchable. So she had broken the law about her neutrality being set. All’s fair in love and war…She mobilized as fast as she could, but it was not fast enough. No the rule that was supposed to keep her people safe ended up binding them. Still none would ever say that she allowed it or was a push over; not her brothers, not Germany, and not Europe. She’d show them that she could be valuable, and that her independence was a good asset to the balance of things in Europe. This, not the desire for revenge, was what really gave Belgium the willpower.

On the other side of the coin, there was one thing she was bothered by. She was doing all of this fighting…for France. Yes France, ever since she was born he had been causing problems. It was he who separated her from her good friend Spain, and he who had taken her over under that bastard Napoleon. And…when she had been turned over to her brother, it was because of the whole French empire crisis(And she also blamed France for the distance that had occurred between her and her brother). She had a lot to be angry with him about. However, a promise was a promise. She agreed to be a buffer state if it meant freedom from her pushy (though admittedly caring) brother, The Netherlands. Belgium always kept her promises. “France better remember this though! For all the times he’s given me trouble!” She muttered. If he ever invaded her again it would be low, even for him.

Suddenly…she thought she heard something. Everything seemed to instantly slow down even more. The air even seemed to freeze, and get colder. It was hard to breathe, partly because of the sudden chill, but also because her location might be revealed. She began to scan. She couldn’t think of anyone besides those squatters that would come here at this hour. And she had already scared them off. It must be…
Germany.

She couldn’t prove it but she knew it. She should be able to tell the atmosphere of one of her own people entering, in contrast to a bloodthirsty German mongrel. Still scanning, she heard another faint, faint sound. There was but one problem, it was not coming from the area she was facing. She had expected him to come through the front doors; this was where she was positioned to fire at. However, the sound was behind her, though not directly. A little to the right, but still behind her. “That sneaky little bastard” she thought in frustration, “Well I suppose I should know by now, you have a good habit of sneaking around when and where no one expects you!” Belgium would have cursed aloud , but now was not the time. Still, the fact that he surprised her with the march through her home and now here seemed to be salt on the wound of her pride. Now she needed to turn around, ready herself and aim…without making any noise. It would be practically impossible. Yet another problem was that she would need to find a different pillar to use as a shield once she fired, since now he was facing her. Belgium smirked “Hmmm unless I take him out then and there. Straight to the head…Hmmm no…let’s not get too cocky…I can’t count on that…” Another broken wall that would still allow her to shoot down on him was several feet away, she could shoot and make a dash for it. But there was a chance she’d fall through.

Of course another obvious option was to wait till he kept exploring and let him come into her range. But Belgium was having a hard time with this. She wanted to sock it to him as soon as possible. She was anxious to give him a reason to wish he hadn’t messed with her. And what if he went back the way he came? Belgium was intensely divided. And if she shifted any weight at all and the boards creaked, well… she would not be facing him, but he would be facing her. She would be a sitting duck. This was not anything she wanted to be. He was the one that should be at a disadvantage. No, she couldn’t just sit anymore, it was time to act.

Belgium began to pivot her feet around, lifting her body up a bit to do so. The process was painful to an already sore body. She crunched her teeth down, trying hard not to gasp or moan. Slowly but surely she was turning. Then through one of the many holes on the floor, she could make out a figure. He was not close enough to a candle to get all of his features. But one thing made Belgium confident in her theory. The pointed hat. It was him, and he was so close. Even if it was just another German soldier…one more dead was no loss to her. She could see the events of the future (or her most desired one) in her mind, replaying again and again. She smiled, finally beginning to taste the reward of her waiting.

Alas! He was on the move! Not fast, but if she didn’t aim her gun quickly…he would go under her, and then behind her yet again. She only had one window of golden opportunity, else wise she would have to turn delicately yet again. And Belgium really wasn’t sure if she could do that another time. Not so much in panic, but in a rush to catch him before that happening, she quickly got her gun in position and aimed.

One eye closed, and her finger slowly drew the trigger back. One moment of complete silence. Still Germany was looking around and moving, and in the dark…it was very hard to aim and not move her body’s position at all. A moment of dead, foreboding silence filled the air, the kind that makes shivers go down your spine. Crickets and everything else that lent background noise seemed to stop. It would be this brief second that a soldier would know that it was time to take cover. Belgium was happy to know this moment wasn’t for her.

The trigger was pulled all the way back. And multiple times, but something was wrong. In that moment, Belgium knew she did not hit a vital spot as she had hoped. She heard a yell, but it was not fatal. She knew.

“Shit!!!” she grunted. Belgium didn’t wait for long, quickly she bounded low to the floor for the wall mentioned earlier. Some boards snapped and she almost plummeted down. However she was close to the wall, and latched on to it, clinging for dear life. Belgium then slowly climbed over to the other side of the wall and waited. Good that she hadn’t fallen, bad that she had now given Germany more space to see into her general area. Maybe if she was lucky he’d retreat…ah, how hopeful she was.

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(( I put that you yelled and that she ran so that I could get her out of the way before you posted. I hope thats okay! If it hit and where it hit is up to you!))

[Germany]

A/N: Okay, I know I said this post would likely end up short, but it didn't for two reasons A ) expanding on events more helps me get back into the writing groove, and B ) I wanted to get Lud up to Bel somehow. xD It was a lot of fun though...I am SO glad to be back in the writing-zone again!

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The faint noise of something sharp scratching against wood reached Ludwig’s ears. He drew back swiftly and dodged behind a corner, instinctively holding his breath. His rifle followed his eyes up to one of the rafters overhead.

Something up there was moving…

Unfortunately, the only candles in the room were in the wrong part of it. The rafter appeared as a solid, dark shape against an even darker backdrop. He could barely see it, let alone anything that might be hiding behind/on/around it.

There it was again!

Scratching.

Scraping.

He tensed up, every muscle in his body stiffening, all senses shifting into hyper awareness. Wary blue eyes squinted up at the ominous rafter, trying to make out any kind of movement through the grainy darkness. His finger tightened around the trigger, though he did not yet have a target picked out.

Come on…

A rush of movement!

Ludwig almost fired his rifle right there — it was only barely in the nick of time that he realized he was watching a rat dash across the dark beam.

A rat. It figures. With plenty of places for them to hide, keep warm, and nest — not to mention all the food the human visitors no doubt left unguarded or behind from time to time — the ruins of the old castle would naturally be quite attractive to the vermin. The black silhouette shot up into an even blacker cranny in the bottom of the second floor and was gone.

Ludwig relaxed a little and allowed himself to exhale, feeling a bit silly. He should have been able to tell the difference between the scampering, scratching sound of a small mammal and the kinds of noises a larger, human-sized creature would make. That was quite the difference. Gilbert would tease him if he were here. Well, if he were here and doing so wouldn’t possibly give away their position to any enemies that may be present.

His nerves settled for now, he ventured forward back into the room he’d been starting to enter before the rat had triggered his hide-and-defend reflex, his head turning cautiously to look first right, then left. He held his rifle at a slight diagonal angle in front of his chest, one hand closed over the stock surrounding the trigger, the other supporting the barrel.

This didn’t feel right. This particular room was better lit than most thanks to a combination of having more lit candles strewn about and the moonlight that streamed in almost directly overheard with little interference, but it was still too shadowy, too wide and open, too unprotected. An eerie silence rested in it like fog caught in an open grave, broken only by the sound of his breathing and the harsh noise he couldn’t help but make walking over run-down, eroding stone floors in combat boots.

I don’t like this.

The more he could see, the more an enemy would be able to see of him. This area could wait; he’d come back and explore it more thoroughly in a few minutes, after he’d made his way up on to the second or third floor.

He was just about to turn around when the deafening report of a rifle being fired at close range pierced his ears and made him jump, every cell in his body electrified with shock and adrenalin.

He was under attack!

I have to get out of the open!

Panicked, he pivoted towards the rat room. It took him only a split-second, but it was not fast enough; another gunshot rent the air right on the tail of the first.

Ludwig gave a sharp yell of pain as the bullet tore into the middle of his left shoulder. He had a vague impression that the shot had come from above, but there was no time to look for hidden gunmen — he raced into the rat room at full speed.

More gunshots rang out, all in rapid-succession.

Spotting an old chair that had been stripped bare lying on its side next to a wall, Ludwig dove behind it, dropping to his knees and ducking his head down until his nose was almost touching the floor, his own rifle crunched up into his belly and lap, his arms drawn in to his sides. Old wood was by far not the best protection against gunfire, but it was better than nothing, and since he didn’t want to risk taking another bullet looking for something better, it would have to do. Thankfully it was in a rather shadowy area.

The gunshots stopped.

Ludwig’s chest tightened, his heart pounding fiercely against his rib-cage, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts. His shoulder hurt like fiery hell — he could feel the blood gushing from it, warm and sticky. Fuck!

Country or not, it was going to be much harder to stalk and destroy an enemy with a fucking bullet lodged in his shoulder. He cursed himself silently for entering into dangerous territory as far as he had, for not looking up more often, for giving his enemy the chance to hit him.

A flurry of movement in the other room — of floorboards creaking and snapping — alerted him to the fact that his enemy was on the move. He could only pray that the Belgian in question wasn’t in the possession of a grenade or two and itching to lob it in after him. That would suck.

Or was it Belgians?

No, he decided, it had to be either a single Belgian, or at most two and one of them unarmed. He was pretty sure all the shots had come from a single rifle, and it hadn’t sounded like more than one person moving around in there.

His blood boiled furiously; he hated being taken by surprise. Whoever had shot him was going to pay. Dearly. I’ll wait a bit to kill him. Shoot him in a few non-fatal places first.

Unfortunately, revenge itself would have to wait for a bit.

Over the next several minutes the German nation rested in his hiding spot, forcing his breathing to slow and listening intently to his surroundings as his body adjusted to the shock and pain. No one came to throw a grenade at him. The castle was once again deathly still.

Muffling his motions, Ludwig carefully withdrew his bayonet and placed his helmet on the end of it. Then he poked a little of the helmet up over the seat of the chair and waited to hear movement.

Nothing.

He waved the helmet around a little, making sure to keep the blade out of sight.

Again, nothing.

Seconds crept on into minutes.

Reassured, he put his bayonet away and the helmet back on his head. The Belgian had run into a different part of the castle to keep his advantage — he would have to find him there. You have the upper hand now, you French bastard, but you’re not coming out of this castle alive.

As pissed as he was about being shot — and he was pretty pissed about that — he had to admit, this was exciting. A thrilling kill-or-be-killed cat-and-mouse chase to the death at night in a run-down, abandoned castle! It didn’t get much better than that.

Time to get moving. Figuring that his foe would be watching the room he’d been shot in like a hawk, he stood back up and backtracked into a few other rooms, looking for that one big hole in the second floor he’d spied a while back. With the moonlight pouring directly through overhead, it didn’t take him long to find it. Gathering his legs beneath him, he coiled his muscles like a spring and launched himself up and forward. He landed heavily on the floorboards, and for a terrifying moment he feared they would give way under him, so loudly did they complain and dip down under his weight. But no — they held. Barely.

The air was a little fresher up here. He took in a deep breath that turned into a hiss at the onset of a fresh sting of pain from his shoulder. Ow.

After he made his kill, removing that bullet was going to be top priority.

The moment passed. He picked a wall and moved up against it, prowling along the structure in a semi-crouch, ducking where it lowered, rising where it heightened, watching and listening with every move he made.

It seemed like the castle itself was against him. The floorboards grunted, creaked, groaned, and threatened to cave in every chance they got. The walls frequently tried to betray him by dipping too low for long stretches across questionable territory. He had only gone through two rooms when he found his path barred by a wall that was wholly intact. Having no other option, he changed course and went through an actual doorway.

Where was that Belgian hiding? Surely he couldn't have gotten too far.

Then he stepped into a big room — bigger than all the others he’d been through — and noticed a bunch of candles burning below. Is that…

It was!

He was staring down into the room he’d been shot in.

Which means…

Senses on full, he looked up—

and saw someone!

His rifle was at his shoulder before his brain had even finished processing the shadowy image. He pulled the trigger three or four times before ducking back into the room he’d just exited, hiding himself fully behind the wall from any return fire he might receive.

[angelinehofstee]

Now that the blonde woman had a chance to take a breather, she tried to organize her thoughts on what had just happened. She had acted too quickly to really know what she was doing at that moment of action; it was almost like her body was on auto-pilot. She had pivoted around slowly, and then she fired…at least three times. Then she heard a yell…but she didn’t remember hearing distinct words. Even if she had…her knowledge of German was small. But she had not stopped to hear the scream, she had bolted for a worn down room on the second floor she was on. On the way there she had almost fell down to the floor…down with that thing…The walls of the room were not all intact, but still gave her a place to take cover. So she was safe for now, so she felt. She leaned her back against the wall and let out a small sigh of relief. Germany had been shot, but it would not be that easy. He wasn’t going to keel over because of a bullet. Of course, she took refuge in the fact that he was too stubborn and cocky (she felt) to try anything too sneaky.

The nation had just gotten into one of his first wars. And he was winning. He totally demolished the Belgian forces. She grimaced when she thought of it, but she knew he was probably feeling pretty damn confident. His weapons were new, but so was his battle experience. His confidence at the moment probably wasn’t nearly as high. Perhaps in his attempt to get revenge he would make a newcomer’s mistake. She prayed he would. Him coming back through the same spot was her hope.

Suddenly it became so quiet…or more than that…she realized it had become so quiet. Belgium turned around and peeked out from the ruined wall she was behind. Dark. Lunar light illuminated some spots but mostly, Belgium couldn’t see much. Before, the advantage of having candles illuminating the lower level showed her enemy at least a little. This was true even for areas that were covered and the moon could not reach. As she assessed the situation more she realized a disadvantage she now faced. Well, there were many actually. Germany now had the element of surprise. She couldn’t move from her spot.

But one thing that bothered Belgium the most was the position on the moon. At this angle, and with the ceiling of the particular room(if you could call it that anymore; its walls were barely left standing) missing, her silhouette was outlined slightly with the light. It was not totally bright, but one could notice if they looked. She ducked more at the realization, but made sure her eyes were still able to see.

However this movement, though so very slight, was a horrible idea. A raid of bullets shot out from a dark shadowy area. Belgium didn’t have time to study where and who they were shot from. Luckily, the aim was not perfect, and the most of the shots missed. Unluckily one bullet did not. It had barely scraped the side of her head, where her cheekbone was. It had kept going of course and had clipped her ear too. The wound was not that deep, but she knew that a small section of bone was visible. She let out a scream, and quickly fell to the floor attempting to cup the wound with her hand. The screech turned into a low hiss. It burned, as did her frustration with this Germanic menace. He was up here now was he? Great. She wasn’t sure if her scream would make him come over to see if she had died or not. Wait…did he know it was her? Belgium had to admit she did not know for sure that that was Germany. But a human being being shot and climbing up to the second floor would be extremely unlikely. This had to be him. Angeline only hoped that her scream didn’t give her away, as women were not allowed in her military.

At this time she checked her rifle. Two bullets remained. She frowned, angry at herself. Belgium quickly made her face expressionless; any facial muscle movement made her want to scream. She knew she was low on bullets! Why did she let herself get so excited like that and waste!? The harm could not be undone. She loaded them back in and decided to wait for Germany’s next move, every hope inside of her wishing it would be a stupid one. This time she ducked below the wall entirely…but entirely ready to move at any given moment or alarm.

[Germany]

To Ludwig’s utter delight, he was rewarded for his efforts with a shrill scream.

Yes! I got her!

His thoughts came to a screeching halt.

Wait…her?!

The scream had been unmistakably feminine.

Or had he merely imagined that?

Crouched into a half-sitting position with his back against the wall, his rifle out in front of him, and one leg angled towards the entrance, he pressed his lips into a tight line and tried to remember whether or not the Belgian army allowed women to enlist.

It didn’t seem like they did. A couple of weeks into the invasion and he had yet to come across a single female in the Belgian military, counting the dead, the P.O.W.s, and the sighted-but-still-free. If they were indeed recruited along with the men, surely he would have seen one by now. Which meant that this woman was either an armed civilian, or…

Belgium.

A shiver of excitement raced through the German’s spine, set his heart beating faster. His eyes narrowed imperceptibly, the corners of his mouth turning up a little in a cocky, anticipating smirk. He’d been looking forward to his inevitable showdown with her since the invasion had begun — he couldn’t wait to square off country to country and overpower her; to take whatever weapons she may have away and grab her wrists and force them behind her back with one hand; to shove her down to the floor, twist her around, and let her look up at him in horrified awe. She may hate him for invading her house and subjugating her and her people, but she would have to appreciate his strength and vitality. Who knew? After time, she might even find that German rule was not so bad, that she didn’t mind being his servant. That she didn’t mind him.

That would be ideal.

There was also the aspect of this impending victory, and for a moment, Ludwig almost forgot the pain in his shoulder.

This would be the first time that he personally had fought another nation spirit in the context of war, the first time he had conquered one.

Okay, so it was a small, weak nation, and a girl to boot, but she’d be a good warmup for him starting down the road to the conquest of multiple nations. He couldn’t wait to show her off to Gilbert once she was properly restrained and downbeaten.

But is it really her?

The odds were against it. There were likely scores of desperate Belgian women roaming the countryside in these parts. Military or not, it wouldn’t be hard for them to gain access to weapons.

Frowning with uncertainty, he checked his rifle clip and found only one bullet remaining. He had one more 5-round clip tucked tightly away in one of the inner chest-pockets of his coat, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to use it. If this was Belgium it’d be far more enjoyable and satisfying to wrestle her into submission than shoot her into it. And if this was a regular Belgian woman, he didn’t want to do her any great, lasting harm if he could avoid it. Men were worthier opponents than women — even with the odds skewed so unfairly in his favor, he could feel good about killing a man, particularly if that man had been challenging. Women — especially human women — were another story. Attacking them felt wrong, like kicking a kitten. Okay, so maybe not quite that extreme, but no self-respecting male nation ever had any bragging rights for killing a human lady; quite the contrary. And since they died so easily, that was ridiculously easy to do, even when not intended.

If this was a human, he decided, he’d handicap himself by not firing his rifle the remainder of this little cat-and-mouse game. Together with the bullet lodged in his shoulder, that would make things slightly more fair, his winning more honorable. He’d decide what to do with her once he’d captured her. Assuming she was still able to move and think coherently after being shot — he had no idea where he’d hit her, or how serious it was.

He was less concerned about honor in the case of Belgium. She was a nation, she could handle a little rough treatment.

Approximately a minute had gone by now without return fire. Listening closely, Ludwig thought he could just make out the faintest rasp of labored breathing, but the noise was so weak that his ears might well have been deceiving him. Nothing else stirred.

That did it: he had to know for certain if this was Belgium, had to know what he was up against.

He turned his head towards the entrance, but dared not poke so much as the tip of his nose out. “Oh Bellll-gium,” he called out in Shaykomay, his voice loud and taunting with just a touch of a singsong element accentuating the other nation's name, “You know who I am. You can’t hope to win this. Surrender to me now and your people will thank you for it. They’re getting slaughtered out there, you know.”

Working swiftly, he removed his helmet and again put it on the end of his bayonet. This he stuck out quickly into enemy view, his heart thundering in his ears as he waited eagerly for any kind of answer or reaction.

If his mystery woman was human, she wouldn’t understand a word he’d just said — humans didn’t understand the common language of nations, with only a trifling few exceptions that had to amount to less than fifty worldwide.

Belgium, however, would understand him perfectly.

Even though he had told her to surrender, he really hoped she wouldn’t, that she’d try to give him some kind of a fight. Even wounded, he was still in the mood for some fun and excitement.

Oh yes.

Very much so.

[angelinehofstee]

Belgium was still crouched behind the wall. Her whole head hurt something fierce. She wasn't just getting excruciating pain because of the wounds though; her whole mind ached. Her vision seemed to go in and out. But when it went out, it wasn't calm, more, it was like noise and snow on an old television set. She wanted to grab her head and apply pressure, but that would hurt far too much and make it worse. She just had to look at the floor, with a forced blank expression. Belgium did not remember being this weak...what was happening. She had sustained much more painful wounds. Was it the fact that her people were giving in as well? That the land itself was already taken? The invasion was so fast and sudden. Perhaps...if time too could be personified, it would have ran her over. It was all so overwhelming.

But the rest of her body refused to stop, and she liked it that way.

She tried to step out of her body, and tried to look at her situation like a observer. The German, who she was almost certain was Germany, was stronger, and probably had more ammunition. She no longer had the advantage of height difference. It seemed pretty hopeless. But she was "Brave Little Belgium" wasn't she? She could think of something....she could come up with a....

“Oh Bellll-gium,” called a voice from where the shot that had wounded her came from.

The voice was taunting, and it made Belgium's muscles tighten. But what was most important about it was that it was in Shaykomay. It was Germany then. Now doubt. Belgium slowly turned to face him, though she was still behind a wall. He was calling out to her. But...guessing from the way he spoke, the rest would only to make her headache worse.

"You know who I am. You can’t hope to win this."

"Yes, I know both of those things..." she said to herself, making sure it was low, so he couldn't hear and rolling her eyes. "Losing hope is... the first step to losing..." she told herself.

"Surrender to me now and your people will thank you for it."

This one made her think though. Would they? Was this why her head hurt so much? Because they were in pain? Were they crying out to her? Was that why everything was so muffled? If that were true...Her heart sank within her chest.

"They’re getting slaughtered out there, you know.”

"As...as if I don't already..." the blonde muttered to herself. For the first time since she had been shot she started to cry. But it wasn't because of physical pain. It was utter hopelessness. She had failed. She failed her people. It hadn't even been that long since she had become a nation. Maybe her brother had been right. She closed her eyes tight, gritting her teeth even though it hurt like mad. He told her she wasn't strong enough. He had said it was best for her to stay with him. Was he right? Her stubborn desire to be her own person, her own nation...was that the same thing that ultimately led to thousands of people suffering, now? Within her borders? Would it have been different?

She began to put the blame on herself. And it was crushing her very brave and rebellious spirit. She shook her head, trying to tell herself it wasn't true, tears dropping on the old wood floor. Belgium watched as they were absorbed into the planks. Her head felt like it was going to explode.

"No..."

It wasn't her. It was that filthy pig. She had been neutral, as peaceful as a nation could be. Then he brought his guns and his little piglets along. And just like pigs, they walked all over everything with their muddy little feet and knocked things over. Ruining everything. She wanted to kill him so badly, it hurt. if she had known what his plans for her were she would have probably gone mad.

Her breathing had been getting heavier the whole time, as her emotions reached a crescendo. She heard a small klinking noise. Looking over the wall carefully, she...saw something moving from where he should be.

Normally her logical side, her side that had been through war and battle, would tell her to examine it more carefully. "Stay down, wait till you are certain, rushing into battle is rushing to death." But Belgium was so frustrated, that once again she could not contain herself. In all probability this battle would no longer be a game of hide and seek. She hated games of cat and mouse. It was time for her to watch him write instead of imagine it. Standing up she fired her last two shots screaming at the top of her lungs in Shaymkomay. "I'm going to kill you!"

Only with the bright flash from her gun and the sounds when it hit the floor did Belgium realize that it was only his helmet. She shook her head again, tears flowing out. How could she be so stupid? She didn't even bother to really look at the thing. Belgium decided that in this case, she would go against the saying, and prove that two wrongs could make a right. Still standing, she screamed and the top of her voice, and darted for the place he had to be. Her feet barely stayed on the floor. Splinters and chunks of already worn wood, flew up behind her. This burst speed was amazingly fast, but she could only keep it up for a little while. And it no doubt made sounds.

Almost in the way a baseball player holds a bat, Belgium hoisted her rifle behind her, clenching the muzzle. She intended the butt of the rifle to be where it would impact. She was near the wall now, but not so that she could see the other side, and she didn't intend to; turning would give him a time to see her and fire. Though, he probably knew she was coming anyway.

She pivoted on her leg and flung her arms out, smashing the rifle into the wall. Dust and peices of the decrepit old stones flew. While she wasn't around the wall, she was close and her rifle was long enough to reach the side she could not see. She aimed for about three and a half feet high, so whether he was crouching or standing he would feel it.

But, judging from the way the rifle hit the wall, he wasn't feeling anything. She had missed. "Shit!" she said angrily, but quietly. She shifted her weight away from the now crumbling wall. She needed to distance herself a bit. The cloud from the impact made it impossible to see where exactly he was. She stepped backwards due to the shifting of her weight and tried to steady herself lest she fall through the floor. He may still have some bullets left", the blonde thought.

"He could fill me with bullets now if he wanted..." Suddenly, an idea came to her. Why had he not gone back to get soldiers? He didn't know before how many Belgians could have been here. Was it confidence? Or perhaps the high of being in battle. Yes...he was Prussia's "brother" after all wasn't he? then perhaps challenging him could help her avoid being laden with holes.

"Heh, I refuse to surrender Germany! This is what you wanted isn't it?" she laughed, but if one was listening carefully, you could tell it was a laugh filled with anxiety. A forced one, maybe even sounding a little crazed. She was like a cornered animal, full of fear, but the desire to live. She continued on in the universal language. "I would imagine you're having a little high right now aren't you? Your first battle against a nation like yourself! Exciting isn't it!? Well, I am challenging you, you pig! Go ahead and shoot me! Spoil your fun! But if you have any courage that doesn't involve shooting civilians...women and children, like I have seen your kin do so far, maybe you'll fight me without firing your big boy guns hmm? I challenge you to a duel!"

[Germany]

A/N: Thanks for the permission to knock you over, Bel!

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For the first few seconds, nothing happened. Blazing with anticipation yet holding it back behind a sturdy wall of self-discipline, Ludwig waited the way a panther waits for a deer which it knows will cross its path: crouched low and statue-still with laser focus, eyes and ears fixated in the right direction, attuned to the slightest movement or sound.

Something muffled and trembling reached his ear, was it…sobbing?

It sounded like it could be, but the wind was stronger than it had been minutes before, and with it wrecking havoc through the ruins of the castle it was hard to tell.

Ludwig continued gently twirling the helmet around the end of the bayonet…

The air exploded with rifle-fire. Two shots rang out deafeningly close and close together, making two lightning-strike flashes of illumination; sparks flew, metal zinged on metal, and the German felt the bayonet buck back painfully in his hand as his helmet was blown off it. Yeeoow!

“I'm going to kill you!”

Shaykomay! A female’s voice!

It was Belgium!

And the words — Ludwig’s heart galloped in his chest, his eyes burning like blue stars with excitement and glee, every nerve in his body tingling. Kill me? You?! Hah!

How outrageous!

How thrilling!

Withdrawing his bayonet, he was about to rise and rise and sneak around into a position where he could more clearly see his feminine opponent — for now he was quite sure he knew approximately where she was at — when an earsplitting scream pierced the night sky followed by a furious pounding, like something moving incredibly fast.

Scheiße!

He’d never expected her to come right at him!

On his feet in an instant, Ludwig leapt sideways as though he had been hit with a volley of live coals and spun to face the way he knew the Belgian would be coming, bayonet in one hand, rifle in the other.

It was a good thing he’d moved. The section of wall he’d been hiding behind burst into flying chunks; small pieces of it hit him in the arms and legs, and a grapefruit-sized stone struck him in his lower stomach. Dizzy with fresh pain — and temporarily blinded by the ensuing dust cloud — Ludwig dropped his bayonet and stumbled back a few steps, instinctively bringing his rifle up to bear and reaching for the trigger. Squinting and blinking several times, he tried his damndest to make out shapes through the swirling darkness, but his stinging eyes were almost useless and he knew he would have to rely heavily on sound and vibration to tell him when to fire the last bullet in his clip.

Belgium started to say something, but he coughed right then, drowning her out.

Damn, that was bold. The thought swam through his mind in a rapidly-vanishing red haze. Belgium had not reacted in the way he’d expected at all: she was either exceedingly desperate, insane, or flat-out stupid to pull a death-defying stunt like that.

But desperate, insane, or stupid, there had been a streak of genius to her madness, Ludwig had to admit. She’d knocked him off his game, injured him some more. And since he hadn’t been prepared — why would he prepare himself for an event that unlikely? — he now found himself in an awkward position at a sickening disadvantage.

The floor creaked nearby; he could hear her shifting her weight, breathing. She was close. Very close.

“Heh, I refuse to surrender Germany! This is what you wanted isn't it?”

Ludwig blinked some more and shook his head in an attempt to clear some of the dust particles out of his eyes. He wanted so badly to reach up and rub them, but he couldn’t risk taking a hand off the rifle. At such a close range all it would take to kill him was one lucky bullet to his head or heart, and there was no way in hell he wanted to suffer through the profound humility that would come from being murdered by weak little Belgium, whether anyone else ever learned of it or not. He’d never be able to take himself seriously ever again.

In spite of his present predicament, Belgium’s refusal to go down without a fight made his night. The laughter which followed the words sent a fresh shiver of pure, unadulterated thrill down his spine.

“I would imagine you're having a little high right now aren't you?”

Hell yes! Calling it a “little” high was an understatement.

The dust cloud began to settle. The outline of a fit young woman began to emerge.

“Your first battle against a nation like yourself! Exciting isn't it!? Well, I am challenging you, you pig!”

Now Ludwig could see shoulder-length dark blonde hair, a somewhat familiar face…his eyes were drawn immediately to one of the pale cheeks, which was bleeding and turning the hair around it into a sticky scarlet mess. The sight made him swell with pride — so that was where he had hit her!

“Go ahead and shoot me!” Belgium continued loudly, “Spoil your fun! But if you have any courage that doesn't involve shooting civilians...women and children, like I have seen your kin do so far, maybe you'll fight me without firing your big boy guns hmm? I challenge you to a duel!”

“Challenge accepted!” Raging with excitement, Ludwig dropped his rifle on the first word and lunged for his enemy on the second, the muscles in his legs firing like coiled springs. He slammed into her full-force, knocking her down under his weight. The whole floor shook and moaned mightily with the impact. Now that she was on her back he attempted to straddle her, and it was only then that he realized she was holding a rifle.

“What’s this?” he snorted, eyes gleaming with amusement, the thin line of his mouth turned up in a cocky half-smirk, “Holding on to your weapon? I thought we weren’t using the ‘big boy guns’?” He slid his nondominant hand into the other nation’s soft, warm throat to keep her pinned and cut off her air supply while he grabbed the middle of her weapon with his right and tried to tear it away.

Unfortunately the sudden powerful movement of the torn muscles in his bloody left shoulder made it explode in newfound agony. He faltered, letting out a small, sharp little cry.

[angelinehofstee]

The dust began to clear but not before a response was given by the German.

"Challenge...!" A rifle made a heavy thump...

As unexpected as her last attack was, Belgium did not expect him to say anything actually. She thought he'd sneak around some more and try to get her from a weird angle. However...

"...accepted!" And with that Ludwig sprung out of the dust cloud like a panther. Belgium's eyes widened, but her body was not quick enough. Her arms went up to hold him back, but he was already there. Lightning fast.

"Ah...!!!"

But when he hit her, it was no light feeling. It was as if a car had run her over. Both fast and strong, it was incredible. It just wasn't fair to have so much skill in both areas. Had she known he was this swift and powerful, she would not have stood there like an idiot. She expected some sneaky maneuver or that he would charge at her similar to the way she did to him. If Belgium didn't hate him so much right now, she'd praise him later.

Falling onto the floor hurt almost as much. The floor didn't not break, but she could feel large splinters going into her back. She grunted, but tried as hard as she could not to scream. Tried as hard as she could not to sound like a victim. Germany wasted no time. His hand clenched her throat hard. Considering she had just had all the air knocked out of her, this was one of the worst things he could have done. She needed air so badly, her whole body began to writhe and convulse.

She attempted to calm her body down and it became random shivers. She didn't want him to gain any satisfaction. If she could help it anyway. But his hand on her throat felt almost as if it was slowly separating her head from her body. He was straddling her, and she felt so pinned and squished. She knew that even another few minutes of this would be the end of her....

"What’s this? Holding on to your weapon? I thought we weren’t using the ‘big boy guns’?” he said. He was questioning her as if she was cheating, yet he didn't seem angry to her. All the contrary he was smiling. As if her having it and he not was another way she could try to be level with him. But not quite, he still knew he was stronger, so it was... an amusement.

She hated that.

Belgium wanted to answer, and tell him that she specifically said "without firing", but she couldn't even breathe. This ( the fact that he had no weapon) was all good for her in any case and she counted on it. Now he was unarmed, and whether he thought it was fine or not, she would show him it was a stupid mistake.

None the less he tried to grab the weapon, but he yelped in pain. Belgium now noticed between squinted eyes that there was a wound in his shoulder. She grinned now, despite her current state and made sure to look him straight in the eye. Belgium's eyes were locked on his in a defiant, but she wore cocky smile. A wound to the shoulder was serious business, strong as he may be she felt he would need it to defeat her. The grin widened, despite it hurting like hell due to her wound. She raised her arm with the rifle in hand and slammed it on the base of his neck as hard as she could. She knew that wouldn't make him let go but after a while...did she even have a while? No, but this was all she cou.... what's this!?

Upon bringing her arm back down, the rifle thudded against the floor. The board cracked , though it didn't fall...The boards were the better target! If she hit them hard enough... they would fall! Not just the boards! Germany and herself as well!

"Lets see him keep his vice-grip then!" She thought excitedly. Her grin was now at it's biggest, and her eyes burned even deeper into his. If she could, she'd say something threatening or witty.

She switched the concentrated force; instead of building energy from the floor, to smite Germany as hard as possible, she used his body as a starting point. Not only her rifle but even her own arm was used as a hammer. The floor was already severely weakened, and it only took three more quick but heavy blows.

The boards snapped and they plummeted down. Belgium acted fast. Taking in a deep breath as she could finally breathe, she pulled her arm back, holding the rifle like a sword prepared to strike. She jabbed it at him to get distance, and it worked! The hit was not intended to severely injure him, but at least now she's land farther away!

And sure enough, she straightened her body and landed on her feet, using her free arm to brace herself. Her graceful landing was cat-like. She stood up, shaking of pieces of wood and keeping her eyes glued on the blonde man. Belgium took six steps back quickly, then clutched her rifle like a club. Now, she charged at him, letting out a loud battle cry.


_______________________________

I'm sorry if I did something unrealistic/stupid xD I wanted to advance it a bit fast since I had taken so long. If you have any issues with it, I'd be happy to change it. I left it up to you Germany, if you fall or land, I don't care either way! You could grab the rifle and block it or dodge or whatever you want!

I was even thinking that maybe when she tried to push away from him with the gun he could have grabbed the butt of the rifle if he wasn't too shocked. If you would rather that, I'll take out the last bit =)

[Germany]

Notnownotnow! Damnit! Ludwig sucked in a deep breath, grimacing and inwardly cursing the burning sensation in his left shoulder. It felt like the damned piece of metal inside him had moved up and penetrated a few more muscles. He could feel a fresh surge of warm blood spurting out of the wound, welling up under the material of his uniform and soaking into it.

Stupid bullet-wound.

Nonetheless he held his position, and even in the dim lighting he saw the self-confident little smirk erupt on Belgium’s bloodied face at his overt display of weakness. She was staring him straight in the eye, too, as if to say “Haha, asshole! Got you a good one, didn’t I? Not feeling so tough now, are you?”


Ludwig seethed with rage. How DARE she taunt him! Looks like some little bitch needs shown her place! That thought eclipsing all others, he drove his hand even further into her throat — as hard as he could — anger and an overwhelming desire to seriously maim the other nation overriding his pain. Violent blue eyes narrowed dangerously, teeth clenched, mouth twisted up into a snarl, he redoubled his efforts to take the rifle. Once that was out of play he’d thoroughly enjoy forcing his first nation into submission. Oh yes. Belgium could struggle and resist all she liked: the fact remained that he was the bigger, stronger country. Without weapons she was doomed.

Perhaps it was just the bad lighting, but he swore Belgium’s grin widened.

What the hell?!

Was he somehow losing his strength? How could she —

At that very moment he gave the rifle a mighty yank up and sharply to the left, hoping to tear it away, only to have barrel come down without hesitation and strike him in the base of the neck. The perfect angle and timing on the part of his enemy had allowed her to combine her strength with a fair deal of his own, and the result was a very painful blow. Jarred from his train of thought and slightly dazed, his grip on the weapon weakened.

Defiant green eyes blazed into his; the jackass smirk grew into a full-sized grin.

Ludwig couldn’t believe it. Was there no end to this girl’s insolence?! Did she want him to beat her brutally?! She just kept adding more and more gasoline to the fire she was playing with, and now she was about to get seriously burned.

Let’s see you smirk with a smashed-in face! Letting go of the rifle, the German drew his right hand back and balled it into a fist. He had to be careful here: if he hit her dead-on with all his strength he’d kill her, and while that definitely had the potential to translate into final victory for him and his men it would also ruin his chances of having some fun taking her down a few pegs tonight. He wanted that satisfaction now more than ever; it’d make his victory so much sweeter.

He was just about to let her have it when he saw her arm jerk up and bring the butt of the rifle back down powerfully upon the already-weakened floorboards, causing them to tremble and audibly crack.

What was she trying to do, make the whole floor cave-in?!

He was so surprised that he forgot to throw his punch; instead he merely watched with increasingly uneasy curiosity as his blonde foe jerked her arm up and hammered the floor yet again. This time the boards splintered and snapped like trees in a strong wind. The floor buckled under their weight.

Ludwig realized two things simultaneously right then: 1 ) Belgium was most definitely trying to cause a cave-in, and 2 ) even if he stopped her from pounding the floor again she’d already weakened it to the point where it wouldn’t be able to support them much longer. Getting in a last punch before the big drop wasn’t worth it; he let his arm fall and started to roll off the other nation.

He was quick.

Gravity was quicker.

He had barely cleared Belgium’s body when the floor completely gave way beneath him.

The next two seconds passed by in a disorienting blur of motion. Primordial instinct kicked in and he automatically twisted to right himself midair — tried to bring his feet directly underneath him — but something blunt that might have been the butt of the rifle struck him hard in the right thigh, seriously throwing him off-balance. He landed flat on his ass amidst a heap of rubble, sending an explosion of pain rocketing from his tailbone up his spine and spreading outward through his lower body, causing him to involuntarily clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut.

That hurt.

But he was a incredibly strong, healthy nation, and that made him more resilient to shock and physical trauma than most. The pain was intense enough to stun him for a few moments, nothing more. His eyes shot open, and he was just in time to see the shadowy form of Belgium charging at him through the still-settling dust-cloud kicked up by the collapse, wielding her rifle like a club as she let out a battle-cry befitting a warrior goddess.

You’ve got guts, girl. I’ll give you that.

The room they were in now was angled almost perfectly to receive the light of the stars and, more importantly, the moon, through the gaping hole they’d created. Belgium had not landed far away from him, and she was on him before he had the chance to wonder why she’d decided it would be a better idea to club him instead of shoot him.

Rather than spring to his feet right away — which was what most men in his situation would do — he remained as he was and pretended to be dazed. When the butt of the rifle flew towards him his hand shot out and grabbed it, stopping it dead in its path. “I think not, little Belgium.” he said flatly, rekindled arrogance shining in his eyes as his other hand came up and joined the first. He rose swiftly, keeping a deathgrip on the weapon. “You’re not playing by your own rules,” he growled, “you challenged me to a duel, a one-on-one fight without weapons. You intended to double-cross me all along, didn’t you?” He thrust the muzzle of the rifle towards her stomach, hoping to cause her enough pain to make her let go. “Smart. But you’re still going to lose.”

In spite of his still-smarting shoulder, neck, and tail-end, he forced a wry little chuckle. “Exciting, isn’t it? You and I alone in a castle under the stars, fighting to the death.” His voice took on a more serious tone, though there was still a bit of dark playfulness in it, “Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. And if you surrender to me right now, I promise not to make you wish you were dead.”

_____________________________________________________

A/N: Sorry for powerplaying you a little there by assuming she’d make a swing at him, but it seemed like a safe assumption based on the context of your last post. If it doesn’t work for you just let me know and I’ll happily re-write it: I normally would have asked first, but given the circumstances I didn’t know when you’d next be online and I was antsy to get this posted. ^^; Sorry! But seriously, don’t feel you have to go with this scenario if you’d rather not. It’s really no problem at all for me to change it.

Also, I’ll definitely be sending you a PM soon ( probably within a few days of posting this, unless you PM me before then ) asking about the direction you'd like to go with this thread from the next post onward and throwing a suggestion or two out at ya.

Btw, your last post was excellent! I love it just the way you have it.

[angelinehofstee]

Belgium's escape plan was a success! Germany wasn't even able to land! Ha! She grinned as she charged. His inexperience showed! He looked as if his whole world was turned upside down, and he couldn't find himself within it. If she could just keep playing her cards right...who knew! Maybe she could win...or at least buy time for England and France to arrive. As much as she hated relying on anyone.

She moved swiftly, and hoped to gain enough force to to plow him down like a charging bull. The wind against her face made the sweaty yucky feeling disappear, and she felt like she now had a new surge of inexhaustible energy. Unbeknown to her, he energy was dwindling and the battle could not last much longer.

This fact was about to become a well known piece of information to Belgium in the next couple of seconds.

The woman once again used her arm as a lever and made a horozontal smash aimed at the seemingly unaware German's head.

The rifle stopped in it's tracks. One arm held it withing inches of a head.

Belgium's eyes widened. The shock her mid received was rivaled only by the shock that her arms and shoulders felt at the sudden, jerking stop.

"He caught it!?...With only one arm!?"

What amazing power. That charge had used all of her strength! She wasn't holding back at all. What could she do against something like this? She had forgotten all about not showing him she was experiencing any fear. Her eyes looked like a child that had been lost in a large crowd, her mouth was trembling, slightly open. The widening of her eyes and tensing of her facial muscles caused the dried blood on her would to crack and chip, allowing new blood to start oozing out. Her now pale head shook slightly. Suddenly her energy seemed to drain out all at once, as if he had ripped a huge whole in its container.

Before she had time to answer him, he shoved the end of the rifle into her gut; much like she had done to him before. It didn't look like he had put that much effort into it, but it hurt pretty badly. She jumped back. Her shoulders hunched over and she held her stomach, looking down at the floor a little ahead of her feet. She still wore the same shocked expression.

"Exciting, isn’t it? You and I alone in a castle under the stars, fighting to the death."

Belgium looked up, and then straightened her body up into a defiant stance. Her arms fell to her sides, and her fist were clenched tight. Her head was angled up slightly, but she still stared at him. This, she hoped, made it look like she was staring down at him. Belgium would afford him no answer, she wasn't interested in playing his little games where he was the one in control of the situation and she(as well as her fear) was a mere amusement. Though from the looks of things, soon, she would be forced to play.

"Don’t worry, I won’t kill you. And if you surrender to me right now, I promise not to make you wish you were dead.”

She chuckled and looked to the side grinning, though only for a few seconds. Then looked back with the same scowl she had worn before.

"As long as any energy exists in me, I will keep fighting Germany. It isn't a matter of death or life. It's my duty to my people and allies. A child like yourself cannot understand. But don't worry, once England and France crush you under their feet you'll know the feeling. The most powerful empire in the world does not fear a sapling country that can't even meet them head-on. I'd start writing a letter begging for mercy."

She then tilted her head and made a small cheeky smile.

"However for now you'll have to settle for me. This is it. Prepare yourself."

With that she raised her ams and got in a boxing stance. She felt he didn't even need to prepare for an assault by her, but she didn't want him to know that. Her face once again lacked any emotion but intense anger, and her eyes locked on his.

[Germany]

Ludwig’s smirk soured a little at the sound of Belgium quietly laughing with her head turned away. Her rifle was fully under his control now, and he found himself struck with the urge to lash out and club that pretty little dark-blonde head. But something inside him caused him to hold back, and he didn’t. Perhaps it was the satisfying glimpse of fear he thought he’d seen on her face a moment ago, or the way that her laughter seemed forced.

Belgium stopped chuckling after a few seconds and faced him. The moon passed beneath the clouds right then, hiding her features as well as her expression under dark shadows. But when she next spoke Germany could well imagine what expression she wore, and he didn’t like it.

“As long as any energy exists in me, I will keep fighting Germany. It isn't a matter of death or life.”

A trite, expected response. She really was a fighter to the last. She was probably dooming her people by taking the stance, but in spite of the anger he’d felt towards her earlier Germany’s opinion of her rose marginally. Strong women were so interesting, and fun. And he could always appreciate courage when he saw it, come though it may from an enemy.

The Belgian’s next words, however, were infuriating.

He was a child?

A weak little sapling country who’s only chance to avoid a painful, humiliating trouncing was to plead and beg for mercy at the 'mighty' feet of England and France? Like they were the adults and he was merely some kid in need of a spanking?

Ludwig’s blood reached a slow, silent boil, his facial expression taking on a pronounced predatory quality as he narrowed his eyes on his feisty prey.

I may be young, but I’m NO child! As you are about to learn.

“However for now you'll have to settle for me. This is it. Prepare yourself.”

And then Belgium assumed a boxing stance, and much of the edge was immediately taken off her previous statements. She’d been silly enough to challenge Ludwig to a one-on-one duel without weapons, and he’d gladly accepted knowing full well what the outcome would be, but actually seeing her standing there ready to go was amusing. Even with a bullet lodged in his shoulder and a sore neck and tailbone there was no way he could lose this.

Reassured of his imminent victory, Germany twisted his torso half a turn and threw Belgium’s rifle up through the fresh hole they’d created, not particularly caring where it landed or what became of it. Then he turned and charged at Belgium, wild anticipation leaping like flames against the frosty backdrop of his eyes.

“A child, am I?”

The question was rhetorical, and he neither expected nor waited for a reply. Without slowing stride he tried to swipe the first blow that came his way off to the side with his good arm, but he was a little late on the draw and his chin took a reduced-force impact before the offending fist was swept aside. The hit tore a small grunt of pain from his throat and slowed him down a tiny bit, but not enough to benefit Belgium much. He slammed into the other blonde full force and tried to take her to the floor.

“Then I’ll bet this feels pretty embarrassing.”

From the way she fought, the power behind her blows, and the exhaustion weighing ever heavier upon her bloodied features, Ludwig knew his foe was fading fast. Not quite as fast as he had expected, but then Belgium had been proving all night long that she was a country full of surprises, a real firework. Doing battle with her was thoroughly enjoyable, and his shoulder-wound handicap weakening his crazily unfair advantage only made things more exciting; he couldn’t use that arm too much without pain flaring up and weakening his blows and defenses.

Ludwig wasn’t sure exactly how long the struggle lasted, but it was over brutishly quick. It seemed they had barely started when the last of Belgium’s reserves gave way and he pinned her arms uselessly to her sides, knocking her to the floor and straddling her as he landed atop her.

“Hmphf. I win.” he declared triumphantly, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small, lofty smirk. His fingers bit deeply into Belgium’s flesh as he held her arms still. “Where are your precious England and France now? I can’t help but notice they’re not here helping you.” He wanted to reach out and pet her, to run his hand smoothly along her clean cheek just to add insult to injury, but with his sore shoulder he decided against it. He had her right where he wanted her, and completely at his mercy. He’d conquered his first nation, and damn, it felt good.

Prussia would be so proud of him!

Now that Belgium was fully his he could begin having a different sort of fun with her.

The moon came out of hiding.

Looking down at her in the gentle glow, Ludwig was struck by just how pretty the defeated little country was. Fine dark-gold hair, a cute and good-looking face, a pleasantly buxom chest, a decent amount of height to go with sexy body proportions, and some definite-but-not-overdone muscle-tone to her limbs were definite checks in her column. A sinful passion stirred within him; his heart began to flutter and his body began to heat rapidly with the anticipation of something extremely pleasurable. The arrogant glean in his eyes turned hungry as he surveyed the fine female specimen laid out before him.

God, she had fought against him so bravely and ferociously — how fun and so utterly satisfying it would be to invade her on a far more personal level, to mark her as his while thoroughly dominating and humiliating her? The very thought sent a shudder of excitement through his body that temporarily eclipsed even the pain in his shoulder.

“Hmn, what should I do with you now?” Despite the blatantly condescending overtones in his voice he sounded almost friendly, as though he were at a fine restaurant musing on what to have for dinner while in the company of a good friend.

It will work better if she’s bound. Not that he needed her bound, but that would make the experience more enjoyable — he’d always secretly had a thing for bondage, but had yet to actually engage in the guilty pleasure. Images of himself, ropes, a struggling Belgium, and things best not seen by children racing through his mind, he looked up from his catch and scanned the room for some type of rope or cord, not really expecting to find any but figuring he would at least check.

By a stroke of luck, what looked like a length of rope rested halfway in deep shadow near the wall of the room. Swiftly shifting his death-grip to his conquest’s wrists, Germany got off her and hoisted her to her feet. He pulled her along with him to the spot, and once they reached it immediately proceeded to shove her face-forward to the cold, gritty floor. Crouching low, he put one knee and a significant amount of weight on her back to help hold her down. Then he pulled both her wrists up over and behind her back and quickly transferred them to the hand on his good arm.

Seizing the rope, he was delighted to find it small but strong, fairly new, and of a reasonable length. It had probably been left here by long-term squatters — a bit of rope always came in handy, especially in the wilderness. Working quickly, Ludwig used it to tightly bind Belgium’s wrists together. Once that was accomplished he drug her over to a choicer spot in the room — right under a flow of bright moonlight so that they could better see one another — and propped her up slightly against a few large wooden beams that had long since fallen over and were now over halfway decomposed.

Tying the wrists behind the back with a bit of rope was usually a ridiculously laughable attempt at restraining a nation — any country could snap the ropes which bound them with ease, usually — but after her fight with him Ludwig doubted Belgium had the energy to spare. Even if she did, it wouldn’t change much.

“Now for some fun.” he almost purred, eyes sparkling with restrained glee. Quickly, before his-soon-to-be-first had time to react, he leaned forward and gave her a rough kiss on the lips at the same time his right hand trailed down her inner thigh and rubbed it forcefully. “You have the honor of being my first.”

_________________________________________

A/N: Thanks for all the permission you granted me here, Bel! I left room for you to do some more struggling/fighting up there if you want. Especially right before he subdues her — that’d be the perfect spot. Yes, he pretty much curbstomps her historically, but I didn’t want to be too godly here. >.O

Also, not a lot of time passes before he asks would he should do with her and actually does something with her. I’m not sure how chatty you intended her to be here ( I kind of assumed she wouldn’t be saying too much ), and I’m sorry if I didn’t leave you as much room as you would have liked to talk and have your speech acknowledged. >_< Anyway, I hope this works, and if not let me know and I’ll find a way to…shorten/fix it.

By the way, don’t worry: this is [/color]ABSOLUTELY[/size] as graphic as it’s going to get. As agreed he won’t go through with it, or get any worse than he just did here. [/i][/color][/size]

[angelinehofstee]

As expected, Belgium's last stand of course failed. Her punches grew slower and slower. She couldn't help but feel like she should just quit. Not even being able to throw a punch properly was shameful and a humiliation. But then, what would this whole ordeal have been for if she would give up when she still had at least something? But Germany made the decision for her all too tired body. Her sluggish movements were halted when he grabbed her arms, pushed them in and slammed against her. Her body was hurled onto the ground, with Germany following over her.

I win. I win. I win.

The words she knew she'd hear from him finally reached her ears. However, even though expected, they hit her as if she had thought she would be the victor.

"Where are your precious England and France now? I can’t help but notice they’re not here helping you." Germany said, mocking her previous statement.

Belgium had to admit, she was wondering the same thing. Where were they? They promised to defend her neutrality. "Perhaps promises by nations are empty...", Belgium thought. Either way, she wasn't going to act like she cared. "You know...I never said they'd help me, I did say they'd defeat you though." she said coughing at intervals, eyes trying to close shut. She tried to smile, but it turned into a strange looking grin, with blood staining the expression. She was exhausted, but aside from Germany taking her to where she would be held...at least it was over.

So she thought.

The moon's cover was gone, as the clouds abandoned her. Belgium, however, couldn't see all of the moon. Germany's head was eclipsing it. Still it was better than no light, and she could see his features better. She didn't like it one bit. Of course he looked like he felt utterly victorious, but it was was was the main attraction, that scanning look, that bothered her. He was looking at her, from her now dirty blonde hair, to her bruised thighs. Her pants were a little tight, but not enough to restrict her movement. The look was hungry, as if he'd start licking his lips. Her shirt wasn't exactly tight either, but of course, her figure could be outlined. Her eyes widened, and she did look scared. The look said," No...No you wouldn't..."

"What am I going to do with you..."

She began to try to squirm, but it was no use. Germany's grip was rock solid.

"No! Don't you understand how this works!?" she screamed at him, panting and coughing. "You've already won...ha... you just...you just can't go and..." She realized this was such a stupid and pathetic thing to say; he could do whatever he wanted. Who was going to stop him? He had no conscience and she decided he had made some deal with the devil.

Suddenly, before she could say more, he hoisted her up roughly. Her bruises and wounds screamed as he did and let out a short cry. She cringed but began to yell.

"No...!" she screamed, angrier than ever. "No! No! Stop it, you'll pay for this...! You don't want to do this!" As she went on, the more the anger turned into pleading once again. She now saw where he was going. Rope.

He yanked and pushed her onto the ground, her cheek slamming against the cold stone. That pain was followed by a sharp pain in her back: his knee. He began to tie her calloused hands, and tried as she could to wriggle them out, he wouldn't allow her to so much as turn her wrists when he was done. She groaned, and for the first time for him to see, she began to cry. During the ordeal, she gnashed her teeth and looked angry as she could, but she cried none the less. She didn't want him to see, but she was spent, and could not hold it in any longer. The tears made her dry throat hurt. Soon enough she began sobbing. She nudged her head back and forth on the stones that made up the floor, trying to wipe the tears away.

Suddenly he yanked her body up again and threw her into an more moon-lit area. Her tears had been wiped away, but the left over moisture glistened in the light. Her sad eyes looked up at him for the first moments, her lips were quivering, almost looking like a child that had been severely reprimanded. Why was he doing this? Hadn't he made a fool of her enough? Walked all over her? Trampled her? Now he wanted to defile her humanoid body as well? New tears came down, and she averted her eyes from Germany, from her future.

He leaned in and came over her, it was like suffocation. More than anytime in her life, she felt crushed, emotionally and physically. Still sobbing, she tried to keep her face averted and eyes tightly shut. But Germany made her open them in surprise with a forceful kiss. His hand moved up her leg, and it made her shiver with disgust, as if a spider or rat was crawling up. But it also hurt greatly, due to her bruises, and she made a small squeak, as she found it hard to scream with Germany's mouth on hers. She took it...for a while.

But, even if she had lost, Belgium was forgetting something important. She was who she was no matter if she was defeated and he polluted her like this or not. A girl like herself, wouldn't allow him to do this without some sort of discomfort! She decided, she couldn't stop him now as a country, but as a person...she still had some bite.

As he kissed her, she returned the kiss. Only to bite him as hard as she could. She could taste the metallic flavour of his blood in her mouth. It disgusted her, but she was happy. She then pulled her head back, but was still very close, almost so that the sides of their noses touched. She looked down and to the side, but smiled.

"Ludwig, consider that a down payment. I'll work on the full later. I can tell you this though, you pig. Once they defeat you and you have to repay me for what you've done, one way or another I will suck you dry. Then...Just like the Holy Roman Empire....you'll crumble away...and no one will care. I'll be the one stepping on you. Look forward to it, slow and painful, one way or another...one way or another...." she finished, and then looked at him. Her eyes were distant, but plotting. It was as if she knew her day would come; her eyelids gently closed.


--------------------

And the day did come. In 1918, the treaty of Versailles was signed and Germany had to pay back a huge amount of money(£6,600 million). This money went mostly to two specific countries France, and Belgium. Germany also had to give Belgium Eupen and Malmedy.

--------------------

[Germany]

Germany tasted the coppery tang of blood from the wound on Belgium’s face as he forced his kisses onto her, felt her shiver and recoil at his touch. She tried to call out — or perhaps scream — but she could muster neither the air nor the strength and it came out as a tiny, muffled squeak.

Pathetic.

But even if she had managed, it wouldn’t have done her any good. She was a mouse caught in the claws of a cat, helpless to do anything but succumb to his will. There was no one around to hear her cries, no one who could help her…

Wait.

Something felt…off.

But what?

Unsure, Ludwig continued his rough kisses, but even though his actions suggested otherwise his mind wasn’t all the way on rape anymore. Subconsciously, he drew his hand away from her leg.

Something’s not right.

Their faces were touching; Belgium’s warm skin was damp with spent tears and slightly gritty with dirt. He could feel the desperation and despair emanating off her, as real the blood trickling from her stripped cheek. She was wholly and utterly his now, and she knew it.

Funny: only moments ago the sight and sound of her crying and pleading had filled him with deep satisfaction, pleasure, and a strong sense of accomplishment.

But now…

Now something else stirred deep within him, something pure and powerful that wasn’t comfortable with what he planned on doing to his new conquest.

Belgium bit him. Violently.

Ludwig’s lower lip blazed to life in a terrible, stinging agony that temporarily eclipsed all the pain of all his other injuries put together — it literally felt like she’d bitten his lip clean off. His automatic instinct was to instantly recoil, but he repressed the urge and merely flinched before forcing himself into stillness. He could not, would not allow her the satisfaction of seeing just how much she’d hurt him, no. Besides, if it turned out she hadn’t already bitten a sizeable portion of his lip off, jerking his head back that quickly while she still held his lip in her teeth would certainly get the job done.

He made a fist and was about to punch her in the side of the face when she let go on her own accord and drew back slightly. Furious, he would have hit her anyway if she hadn’t started speaking right then, and as it was part of him didn’t know why he let that make a difference.

“Ludwig…”

So she did remember his human name. She hadn’t used it once during battle, not that he could recall.

A weird, slightly awkward feeling — not quite guilt, but something akin to it — came over him. He couldn’t remember hers. Seemed it had started with an ‘A’, but he wasn’t too sure.

Why did it bother him that he couldn’t remember Belgium’s human name when she could remember his?

Through the sharp stinging of his torn lip he felt the blood pouring down his chin in a hot, salty current. There was so much of it; it fell onto Belgium’s pantleg in an unbroken red stream. Keeping his left hand on standby in case his ridiculously defiant prisoner decided to pull more attitude, he uncurled the fingers of his right and reached up tentatively with two of them, gently running them over his lower lip for a damage assessment.

The good news was that Belgium had only bitten onto a small part of his lip.

The bad news was that part was completely gone. Despite his best effort to keep up his tough-guy image he couldn’t help but to wince in pain and draw his breath in in a sharp hiss when his fingertips brushed against raw, exposed tissue.

Belgium was going on about how he was going to get his comeuppance for defeating her like this, how when that happened she’d be there to kick him down once he was down and take him for everything he had before he died. She never mentioned how she thought he would die, only that no one would care when he did, and she’d be happy, and justice would be served, and blah blah blah. Talk about a sore loser. She just couldn’t handle being forced to accept her rightful place as servant to a bigger, stronger, tougher nation because she was too weak to fight him off. And now, because she had lost to him, her people would be subjugated by his, and much of her strength and prosperity would transfer to him as his people utilized her resources for themselves. It was only natural that she’d be feeling pretty upset and pissy about that, that she’d see it as some monstrous perversion of justice.

The pretty Belgian met his gaze, and with the moon and stars shining down brightly he could practically see himself dying a horrible death and burning in hellfire in the dark depths of her eyes.

Yep.

She was pissed.

Without warning he lashed out and smacked her hard in the side of the face, streaking it with his blood. “That’s for biting,” he growled, though all things considered he wasn’t quite as angry as he thought he should be, and that surprised him. He continued speaking in harsh, loud tones, temporarily forgetting that enemies might have been drawn to the castle by the sound of gunshots. “And if you didn’t want conquered then you shouldn’t have counted on your neutrality being respected and your allies heroically swooping in to save you the moment you got invaded. Had you built up your military and upgraded your weapons and defenses, my soldiers and I would have had a harder time taking you. We still would have, of course, but you and your people would have been more of a challenge. Not that I’m not happy you failed to do so; such neglect translated into fewer German lives lost. And I’m going to need all the soldiers and strength I can get to take on those countries that actually are a challenge.” He paused for a moment, considering, and when he next spoke his voice was slightly less scathing. “It could be worse. I know you hate me, but I don’t want to kill you. Over time you’ll see that serving me isn’t so bad.”

He wiped his chin off on his sleeve, then slid his left hand into Belgium’s throat, pressing the back of her neck firmly against the decaying wood and choking off some of her air supply. He scooted in closer on his knees, fully straddling her, but allowing them both some room to maneuver. “The more you fight the more this is going to hurt.”

Being in a fair amount of pain dampened his desire, but he wasn’t hurt so badly that he couldn’t enjoy a quick session. After all, he was the mighty German Empire.

Yet now that it was time to take the next step, he found he couldn’t. The feeling of wrongness from earlier returned with a vengeance, and his hand froze over the button to Belgium’s pants.

This isn’t very knightly of me. The thought hit him like a wave. Instantly he was transported back through time, back to his childhood — so long ago, yet so recent — when he’d adored and emulated the white knights in fairytales, Prussia’s kind. He saw himself running through tender green fields and along riverbanks, an iron cross dangling from his neck, thrusting his sword ( actually a dagger ) and shield up towards the sun and swearing to protect everything pure, innocent, righteous, and holy. He’d seek out and rescue lost cats and kittens for the local children; run errands for the elderly and ill; hunt rats, mice, and other vermin that were ravishing gardens and storerooms, put bullies in their place, and fiercely guard his father/big brother figure from crooks and thieves those nights he’d passed out far too early from having drunken too much alcohol. By far his favorite missions, however, were the fearsome life-or-death struggles against the forces of evil with everything at stake. Sadly for him, those kinds of epic battles had never really materialized in reality: the closest he’d come were a few fights against France’s military and common criminals, and with Gilbert hogging all the action and all the glory, always jumping in the way to finish off the bad guys before he got the chance to do anything, they had been very unfulfilling experiences. So he’d practice his moves on trees, boulders, empty beer kegs, battle dummies, and sometimes patches of thin air, pretending they were all sorts of evil witches, monsters, and demons, and that the fate of his and Prussia’s people and sometimes even the whole world rested on his shoulders. Whenever he could he’d dress up as close to the likeness of a knight as he could get — once he’d even borrowed Prussia’s special iron cross necklace without asking for extra strength, valor, and nobility.

Those innocent, naïve days were no more. Ludwig had learned and experienced so much over the years that had remolded and changed his views and perceptions about everything, including the concepts of “good” and “evil”. He saw now that people and actions were rarely purely one or the other, that lots of mixing occurred and that morality was largely subjective.

Even so, there were still some acts which his conscience told him were inherently wrong and wicked.

Rape was one of them.

Do I really want to do this? He gazed down on the broken, beaten form propped up before him. He’d already dominated and overpowered her, crushed her spirit and taken everything she’d had.

“You’ve already won…”

Belgium’s words echoed in his mind.

A white knight would definitely not do what he was thinking about doing — the thought would never even cross his mind. It was difficult to imagine Prussia being impressed by it, either, seeing as how it went against both Prussian and knightly virtues.

No, he decided, at last No, I can’t. It’s not right. If I did, I really would be the bad guy. Belgium would be right.

His decision made, he retracted his hand and leaned back, staring at his conquest with a strange expression that was one part pain, one part bewilderment, and two parts relief. The issue of consent aside, it objectively was better to wait until he wasn’t in pain to experience his first time anyway. He wasn’t a masochist so that was sure to make it more enjoyable.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind. I like this plan better.” Before she had time to move or probably even register what he was saying, he surged forward and punched her in the head with just enough force to — hopefully — knock her out. Thankfully he hadn’t judged his strength wrong, and Belgium’s unconscious-but-still-breathing body slumped in front of him. Grimacing at the flare of complaint the motion elicited from his bullet-wound, he lifted her up and threw her over his good shoulder. Then he made his way out of the castle, feeling rather accomplished.

Tonight had been a good night.

One down…

Gilbert would indeed be proud of him.

____________________________________________

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End of Thread