The Heart of a Nation

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. It strictly belongs to it's creators and this is only for personal enjoyment. I do own the creation of the original characters that will be featured in this story.

The scent of gunpowder in the air.
Cannons roared in the distance as the rain engulfed my worn figure. I winced as I noticed the crimson liquid flowing like a gentle stream down my arm. This war. A conflict which my people believed to be in the sake of liberty.... was pointless. For we were on the loosing side. That much was clear to me now. My foe stood in the center of the battlefield, lifting the colors high, knowing victory would soon be his.

Even so, shooting him was impossible.
Why? Because he was my brother.
I looked over toward comrade, her hair was caked in grime, her eyes; dull from years of endless tragedy. Yet we still purged on.

Admiss the cries of fallen men, the storm at our backs, and faults in our line becoming clear.... We shared the same thought.

If only we could forget...
Leave this place, and take no blame in the lines of history.

And so we did.

But at what cost ?