Elizabeta's fists clenched as she stood on the front lines in her armor, a sword at her side. They were at war. The country of Prussia was battling with that of Austria and, though she was Hungarian, Elizabeta fought alongside the Prussians so as to make sure her best friend, Gilbert, stayed alive. He stood next to her, red eyes glinting in the light.

Gilbert was the only one in the army that knew she was a girl. She had cut her hair to mirror that of a boys, and her armor hid anything else that would be incriminating. Gilbert had resisted the idea at first, due to them being friends since the age of twelve. Of course, Elizabeta pressed on. Now they were eighteen, and Elizabeta had grown to love him. She didn't tell him, of course; that would have been embarrassing. Instead, she resorted to admiring from afar, turning her head when he noticed she was looking. What Elizabeta didn't know was that Gilbert loved her too.

As the pair stood on the front lines of the army, glaring at the opposing soldiers, they silently worried for the others safety. Little did they know, one of them would not make it back. 

As I stare into these ruins made by man
I tremble as I realize it's the end
More and more I wonder what we could have done
But instead we wage a war that can't be won

As the horn signaling the start of the battle sounded, Elizabeta shot Gilbert one last glance, silently telling him not to die. He smirked back and nodded, then charged forward, unleashing a battle cry. Elizabeta did the same, screaming till she met with an opponent, swinging her sword up and to the left, effectively slashing at his chest. The mans armor protected him from any wounds, but she had managed to push him back some. The opposing man retaliated, attempting to swing his blade down from directly above her head. He was obviously strong. However, Elizabeta was not only just as strong, but fast, too. Before he'd moved his sword for the finishing blow, she had brought hers up and deflected it, the sound collaborating with the clashes of metal around them. As the man staggered back, Elizabeta spun towards her right, hitting the man on the head with the flat of her blade when she faced forward again. He fell, sword falling out of his reach. As he d about in a frenzied attempt to find his fallen weapon, Elizabeta aimed her sword down and stabbed between a chink in his armor, below the plate.

The man cried out, but ceased to move otherwise. Retrieving her sword from the slowly dying body, Elizabeta took in her surroundings. Bodies littered the ground, fallen soldiers bleeding out on the cold, hard ground. She was horrified. Not because of the death rates, but because most of the dead were her comrades. The cold realization set in; they were losing.

Fear struck her then, a cold hand constricting around her chest. She had to do something. Elizabeta then felt a hand grasp her shoulder. She jumped and spun around, poised to attack.

"Relax, Frau. It's just me," a familiar Prussian voice spoke. Surprisingly, she could hear it quite clearly, despite the constantly resonating sound of metal clashing. She turned to address the voice.

"Gilbert, thank god you're okay."

He smiled lightly, crimson eyes radiating kindness, before patting her head gently and running his fingers through her short, straw colored hair.

"Of course I'm okay, Frau, I'm the awesome me!" He replied. She smiled lightly. Only Gilbert.

"Of course you are," she muttered. He only smiled back, but it fell away soon after. He looked worried now.

"Listen, Frau," he started, bringing his hand up to gently cup her face. "You should hide. I don't want you to get hurt." His eyes shone with worry, and Elizabeta knew that he was anxious. Still, she became slightly angry.

"Not happening, Gilbert. I'm staying here and making sure you don't get yourself killed." Gilbert sighed, but still kept the worried look on his face.

"Please, Elizabeta. I care about you too much to see you get hurt. Please go hide. Please."

Elizabeta sighed. She knew he wouldn't give up until she agreed.

"Fine, but only because you asked me to."

Gilbert visibly relaxed, smiling warmly at Elizabeta as she took in their surroundings once more. The Prussian army was losing. The ground was littered with corpses, more so than before. Men fought against each other, swords clashing and shields clinking. Elizabeta gave Gilbert one last glance before sprinting off towards a pile of dead soldiers, planning to play dead till it ended. Gilbert took off the other way.

As Elizabeta ran for the mound of deceased warriors, an opposing soldier saw her and, before she could react, struck the side of her head. She fell with a cry, clutching at her head, on the blood splattered ground. As the soldier moved on, confirming her death, Elizabeta lay helplessly as blackness consumed her vision and something warm and sticky ran from her head. 

You think that this is the end?
You're wrong
You think that this is the end?

When Elizabeta came to, the first thing she noticed was the lack of noise. Gently, she sat up, wincing at the pain in her head. As she surveyed her surroundings, the oppressive smell of internal organs spilling on the ground permeated the air, wrapping thickly around her like a blanket. As far as she could tell, it was evening, the sky blocked by dark clouds and the earth cast in ominous shadow.

Corpses lay everywhere; no flag or resounding cheers. That meant the armies had killed each other. Nobody won. Suddenly, a thought struck Elizabeta.

"If the armies killed each other, where is Gilbert?" She whispered.

Eyes widened in frantic realization, she scrambled up and off the ashen ground, ignoring the pain in her head.

"Gilbert!?" She called. "Gilbert, where are you!?"

She continued her search, scrabbling about in an attempt to find her best friend, calling his name out to the vacant skies.

"Gilbert! Gilbert, please! Where are you!?"

She continued on, till her voice grew hoarse and her legs became weary. Collapsing onto her knees, she began to cry into her hands. It was then that she saw a flash of pale hair. Mind now alert, she turned towards that pale hair that she had grown so accustomed to, and finally spotted the young Prussian.

He was lying in a heap on the ground, but that was as much as she could see due to the corpses surrounding him. Very quickly, Elizabeta sprang up and stumbled over the fallen warriors, making her way to Gilbert. After much stumbling, she fell to her knees next to him, turning onto his back in order to inspect him for injuries.

Gilbert's body thumped loudly against the ground, and Elizabeta saw his lifeless crimson eyes, staring off into the dark skies. His armor was gone, and blood was pouring out of his abdomen, inhibited only by the knife lodged there. The ground beneath them was dark and wet; he'd been bleeding for a while.

"No," she whispered, tears once again b in her eyes. "No. No, no, no, no! Gilbert! Please, you can't leave me! Please . . . . You can't die . . . "

She dropped her head onto his chest, tears staining the brown tunic he wore beneath his armor.

"No . . . "

I search for solace in this waste
That I once called home
But my attempts at piercing life together
Leaves me alone
I can't repair what's been done
When the sky is as black
As the ground that I walk on
But I can't give up on this
I have to wonder what we could have done
I have to wonder
But instead we wage a war that can't be won

~~~

As Elizabeta crossed the threshold of the thick green clearing in the forest, a breeze blew through her now waist length straw colored hair. The expanse around her was lush and bright; perfectly healthy. However, an air of unreality hung about it. It was the glade that Elizabeta and Gilbert had been playing in since they were young. They were in the forest playing tag one day when a strange man with brown hair and pointed teeth had appeared.

The man had stood for a moment, silent, then walked away slowly. Curious, the two had followed him. He always seemed to be just within their line of sight. Then, when he disappeared behind a curtain of vines that was thought to cover a wall, the children followed him in. They could no longer see him, but the scene before them was one that no one else had seen (save the man that led them). The glade was beautiful, littered with flowers and fairy rings.

To this day, a full year after the war between Prussia and Austria ended, no one else knew about the glade. That's why Elizabeta buried Gilbert there.

Despite the nice weather and beautiful sight, Elizabeta remained solemn. Though she could feel the magic in the air, she also felt the cold melancholy that came with losing someone. Elizabeta took a step forward, then another, until she reached the stone slab that served as Gilbert's head stone. It said nothing, and yet everything all at once. Her legs began to shake, giving out a moment later. As she collapsed before his grave, she felt the tears she had been holding back begin to escape.

"Gilbert," she whispered, voice shaky with sobs, "I'm so sorry."

She stayed that way for hours, crying at Gilbert's grave, telling him she was sorry. For what, she didn't know. What she did know was that she was to blame. She had entered that war in order to protect him, and yet there she was, crying at the place where he would rest for all of eternity. 

I stand on the ash of all I've ever loved
Memories of a broken heart
Now I'm alone in the dark