I'm not sure if this is historically accurate, because I was too lazy to look some of the stuff up. Also, I totally believe that HRE became Germany. So there. Do not own!

I'm posting this a lot later than I intended to, I wanted to get more of it written out. Um, Italics are on purpose. I hope you like it!

He was walking along the road, sniffling as he headed—well who knew where he was going; it's not like anyone he knew was looking for him. The men he had been with had died in the city behind him; either that or they had fled. He couldn't really remember…but then he couldn't remember anything else either. Not even his own name.

"…" He opened his mouth to say his name, but nothing came out. It was truly gone. He sniffled again and the ground blurred in front of him. He sat down suddenly, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his head on his folded arms, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry.

"Hey kid," a voice said. He jerked his head up, his eyes wide. A tall soldier stood in front of him, both fresh and dried blood soaked into his clothes. He had silver hair and red eyes, and his skin was very pale.

"What?" the boy asked, wiping at his face. He didn't see the man's expression change, softening slightly.

"Where are your parents, kid?" he asked. The boy shrugged in response, his gaze fixed off to the side. In one fluid movement the man was kneeling in front of him. The boy gasped as he looked up and met wide scarlet eyes, and he fell back against the slight bank behind him in fear. The man tilted his head, and his silver hair fell into his eyes. "What's your name?" The boy shook his head, pressing back into the dirt. The man sighed. "Come on, kid, you gotta at least tell me your name."

"I…I don't remember," he said.

"You can't remember your name?" the man asked. "Well you're a country right?" The boy nodded. "What country are you?" Tears welled up in the boy's eyes again and rolled down his cheeks. "Ah dammit. Don't cry kid, don't cry, it'll be okay." The man reached forward and put his arms around the boy, pulling him into a tight hug. The boy stopped crying in surprise as the man hugged him. "You start crying around here and someone is bound to come and try to take you. You want that to happen?" The boy shook his head. "Good. Then stop cry—oh, you did." The man had pulled back and looked at him. The man paused and looked up and down the road. "Well I can't just leave you here," he said on a sigh. "Somebody else would come and try to invade you. Probably those damn Brits." He stood up and held out his hand. The boy looked at it in confusion and then looked up at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Well come on," he said, wiggling his fingers. "We can't stay here. Let's get going." The boy hesitantly placed his small chubby hand in the larger slender one. The man pulled him to his feet and started walking down the road, keeping a firm hold on the boy's hand. "Hey kid, uh…we need a name for you. I can't just keep calling you 'kid' all the time." The boy shrugged. The man thought for a moment. "Hey, I got it! How about Ludwig?" The boy wrinkled his nose, and the man laughed heartily. "Well, you'll get used to it. I like that. Ludwig," he said. The boy looked up at him.

"What about you?" he asked.

"Hmm? Oh! I almost forgot!" The man swept his hat off and bowed to the boy. "You are in the presence of the awesome Gilbert Beillschmidt, country of Prussia, descendant of the mighty empire Germania!" he announced by way of introduction. The boy looked up at him dubiously. Gilbert dropped his hat on Ludwig's head, and it dropped over his eyes. He pushed it back irritably. Gilbert grinned. "It doesn't get much awesomer than me," he said with a wink. Ludwig huffed and crossed his arms. Gilbert pulled his arms away from his chest and clasped his hand again. "Let's go, Ludwig." The boy nodded and they continued down the road, the soldier's gold-trimmed blue hat perched precariously atop the boy's blond hair.