Dance Macabre | Hetalia One-Shot

The Dance Macabre

Among so many corpses, some rendered unrecognisable by the damage done in this fearful dance, it seemed quite impossible to find them, to see if they were still alive — it was a tragedy that was to go down in history.

They had found Canada, laying mangled in the mud about a mile back, leaving the American nation crying out at his side; for many nations it was the first time they had even seen the quiet and innocent man that now lay trampled an forgotten in the ruined land. However, the saddening trek was far from over; they still needed to find Italy, Liechtenstein, Poland and Lithuania in amongst the broken, the defeated, those who had been swallowed up in this now-regretted war that was dubbed, "The Dance Macabre."

Switzerland led the search, desperate to find his dear little sister — to see her alive, to see her smile — and desperate to maintain order: Germany, China, Japan, England, France, and America (who stayed behind with Canada) had offered their help, which the blonde nation gladly accepted. After all, they would need as many countries still alive as possible if they were going to clear up this whole world war in which the majority of Asia and Europe, as well as America, had been caught up, with no one able to maintain neutrality, or even their lives, it seemed.

"Guys, look..." England said grimly, pointing. Some didn't dare look, and those who did regretted it; there lay Poland and Lithuania, laying in a pool of their entwinted blood in a desperate embrace, Poland's face buried in Lithuania's chest and his blood-covered arms clinging to the brown-haired nation. "Li...et..." A small and muffled voice whispered, and everyone snapped their heads around, staring at the blond nation. However, the voice didn't speak again, and when the group approached, they saw that neither of them could be saved; a whole was blown in Poland's side, and in Lithuania's back, leaving a fleshy hole and a severed spine for the brown-haired nation.

That was three nations they'd lost now, and with each one they became more and more scarred, fearing what they would see when they found Italy and Liechtenstein, if they even did.

Though he didn't dare admit it, Switzerland no longer wanted to continue searching for his dear little sister, fearing what he would see if he found her, fearing the fact that he may not be able to continue living after seeing such a thing, if his fears became reality. He wondered if Germany was thinking the same thing as the man trudged darkly with the group, his usually pushed back hair falling over his eyes. Sensing the tension and darkness amongst the remaining nations, China attempted to cheer them up by saying, "Don't worry; they wouldn't die on you, aru!" For a while no one spoke again, but then England decided to try and add to the feeble attempt; "China's right — surely little Liechtenstein wouldn't dare die on you, Switzerland. And Italy probably put up a white flag and got himself captured, in which case he'd still be alive."

England had been right about Switzerland's dear little sister. After some more walking, she came limping to meet the group, gaining their attention when she called out, "brüder!" The Swiss nation adorned a warm and relived smile when he laid eyes upon his sister once more, before going to meet her and check her injuries. She was shot in the ankle, but that was evidently all the damage done, which greatly relieved Switzerland - he was fearing much worse. "Thank god." He exclaimed with a sigh, lifting the small girl into a piggy back, intending to carry on the search but not wanting her to worsen her injury, as well as not wanting to leave her alone. "It's good to have found at least one nation that we haven't lost for good, aru." China commented darkly, Liechtenstein donning a curious look.
"We've lost Poland, Lithuania, and potentially Italy, too—" Switzerland told his sister, knowing he wouldn't be able to preserve her sweet innocence any longer. "Don't forget Canada." England added grimly, the screams and sobs of the American nation still ringing in his ears. The little blonde nation frowned, clinging to her brother a little tighter as a form of comfort.

And so the walking continued and the countries tread through the mud and among the many who had fallen in this Dance of Death, Liechtenstein now hiding her face in the back of Switzerland's neck. A figure stood in the distance, it's white hair flowing in the gentle breeze that helped to cool all of the corpses into the deathly cold that confirmed that they weren't coming back, and that their dance had come forever to an end. The figure turned, revealing a pair of red eyes and pale skin: it was the ex-nation of Prussia. For a split second he met eyes with the German nation, but in that instant he turned away, averting his gaze to a figure at his feet; the nations went to meet him, assuming they'd be quite immune to whatever grim thing they might see, though still greatly affected by the sight before them.

Curled in a ball on the ground lay the nation of Italy, his eyes opened slightly and his gaze set on the pool of blood that was pouring from the gunshot wound in his abdominal area. "Italy..." Germany was at a loss for words as he kneeled down and lifted the small nation he had come to love into his arms. "Doi...tsu..." The brown-haired nation tried to speak, but had neither the words to say nor the strength to continue, and was stopped when the German nation replied, "don't talk, Italy. Look, we'll get you to a doctor, alri—" the Italian nation cut Germany off by shaking his head, a pained smile on his face. He opened his eyes wider, gazing into that of the blonde who held him and using them to speak, "I've done my best, and I accept my fate." He gazed sadly up at the man, who's vision was now blurred by his tears as he stroked the dying nation's cheek. "Italy, ich liebe dich." He said without thinking, and tears welled in the eyes of the watching nations, their expressions changing however when the sound of gunshot rang out once more through the silenced battlefield, like an encore, the German nation falling with the Italian nation by his side in time with the shot, blood spewing from his head.

Some stared at the nation who had just been shot, and others stared at the one who had shot him: Prussia.

"I'm sorry, mein brother..." He said, "but I couldn't let you suffer after losing him, too proud to commit suicide; it was for the best. And now..." The albino pulled the gun to his head, "I will atone for my sins." And before anyone could talk him out of it, he pulled the trigger, staining the silenced war ground with one final shot.