blood_winged (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blood_winged) wrote2011-01-12 08:25 pm
blood_winged) wrote2011-01-12 08:25 pm
Entry tags:
[Fanfic] Mit solchen Freunden braucht man keine Feinde. [APH]
Title: Mit solchen Freunden braucht man keine Feinde.
Genre: General
Characters: England, Prussia
Rating/Warnings: PG. (Temporary) character death.
Summary: Shortfic. In an unspecified country, during an unspecified war. England and Prussia have stood by each other for longer than they can remember, always watching each other's backs - even as enemies.
***
Arthur still remembered the first time that Gilbert Beilschmidt killed him.He’d died before, more times than he cared to count, but he always came back. Always with that bone-deep ache and that throbbing headache to let him know he was alive. More times than he could mark on both hands he had bled his life out into the ground, more blood than one body had any right to have, and every time he had come back. He had come to expect it, now, and death held no fear for him anymore.
Dying didn’t frighten him. It was that look in those wine-red eyes as the barrel of the rifle pressed against his throat, that determination, the sheer single minded will to kill him even though they both knew he wouldn’t stay dead that rose the hairs on the back of his neck as he struggled and kicked against the Prussian nation. His fingernails dug into the man’s wrists, skin stretched tight over bony knuckles, nails drawing red lines over his white skin. Eye wide, unseeing, the last remnants of the current battle waged around them as the life was slowly choked out of him, his hands moving to make a vain attempt to push the weapon away from his neck. He made a strangled sound, each breath coming shorter, lungs burning, black edging his vision and all he could see was that face, set with a grim resolve.
He laughed, but the sound didn’t come out how he wanted it to. It was a harsh, gagging noise that was more of an imitation of a laugh and Gilbert’s eyes flickered, narrowed, and he pressed down harder. Arthur’s body spasmed, fingers gripping at his coat now, twisting into the fabric, panic gripping his chest. No, he wouldn’t stay dead, but he was dying, sinking further as the seconds passed. Gilbert snarled, though he barely heard it, and pressed the rifle down harder. A dull crunch and pain exploded in Arthur’s head, blood filling his mouth, then nothing.
A groan spilled past bloodied lips as dawn’s first light blushed the horizon. The battlefield was deserted but for one white-haired man crouched beside one of the dozens of bodies, watching as air shuddered into protesting lungs, muscles twitching. A cough. Arthur rolled over and spat a mouthful of half-clotted blood over the Prussian nation’s shoes.
“Fick!” Gilbert hissed, shifting back. “Wach Auf, faul Pirat.” The butt of his rifle made contact with the English nations head, provoking another groan, the flickering of dulled emerald eyes. His throat felt raw, breathing hurt, voice hoarse as he gathered enough of his mind together to speak.
“I am awake.”
“Get up.” The Prussian man stood, eyes narrowed at the man by his feet, watching as he slowly drew himself up into a sitting position and struggled to his feet, using his own rifle as a prop. He swayed faintly, one hand pressed to his head, an almost amused look in his face as his gaze slid over to Gilbert. Snorting quietly, the silver-haired man crossed his arms and looked away. “Now, get out of here, before I change my mind.”
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I myself am terrified of death but love reading about it fff dhurhurAnyhow, short and sweet--not, er, not really but you know--and I liked it a bunch :Db And since I'm feeling a tad lazy, what does the title translate to?
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And yay xD It means 'With friends like these, who needs enemies' =P
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