Hetalia Angst

A Soldier's Heart

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Discrimination, major insults, mentions of rape, death⚠️
Characters: Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia); Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany)
Word Count:626 words

Everything about him screamed strength and determination. The way he would stand tall with his chin held high showed no hesitation. He was a fighter, a protector. Everything he did, he did for someone else. There was no selfishness in his actions. Yet, even so, people would degrade him, call him worthless, a monster, a demon, a people pleaser, a whore.

Unfair accusations were thrown at him because of his crimson eyes, because of the way he loved helping other, because of his overprotective streak. None of it was true. He had almost died countless times for the soldiers he worked with, saving their lives day after day. He was one of the most dedicated Christians in the town and he's only ever had sex once. Even then, it was against his will, having been dragged into an alley by a couple of men that held him down and fucked until he bled. No one ever found out about it, his pleas to stop and cries of pain lost to the past. Even mentions of sex is enough to give him a panic attack.

Though, no matter how much he was hurting, he would push that aside in order to assure his little brother that he was fine. What would the young German think if his hero broke down? Gilbert didn't want to find out, deciding that he needed to have a strong older brother to believe in. He needed to believe that Gilbert would protect him. And he would. He would give anything to make sure Ludwig was safe and happy, even if it cost him his life. And it did.

No one thought such a strong warrior would be one lost in the battle but there he was, crimson eyes half lidded and dull. All of their usual spark was gone, bleeding from his body as though pouring from his open wounds. The first bullet had gone straight through his chest, taken by protecting the same person that had called him a demon just the day before. The second shot into his throat, making him choke on blood and stumble. He could barely stand, though he forced himself to so he could protect the other soldier. The final shot lodged itself right between his ribs, finally making him collapse and take his last breath.

It was only when people were carrying him home when they realized just how light he was. He had always been the one giving up rations to the families in the village that couldn't buy food of their own. He'd always insist that he had enough to last no matter how low their rations were. He'd spend nights curled up in pain from the hunger that he insisted on ignoring in order to give it to the others. Even some of the soldiers received Gilbert's rations, the young ones who were still growing and the older ones who were ready to retire. The effect a death could have on people that did nothing to support him was tremendous. Ludwig's tears were the final thing that pushed them too far, causing several of them to shed tears of their own.

The small village seemed to have lost it's color, every spark of hope lost to the dreary events that transpired. Ludwig learned fast, soon taking up his brother's old position as general. No one dared speak bad of him again, the albino's name protected firmly by the German that stood in the position now. If only it hadn't taken his death to prove just how far he'd go for the people who despised him. Perhaps he would have been able to survive if he wasn't a protector but just a warrior that fought alongside people. If only that were the case.