This is a story that I've been trying to make FOREVER. I can't reveal the entire plot because I don't want to spoil it. What I will say though is that there will be five points of view: Ludwig, Gilbert, Emma (Belgium), and the other two, I also cannot reveal. Enjoy!
Summary: Futuristic, war-ridden AU. Europe is under complete chaos as the Germanic-Russian empire continues to lock its grip around it. New horrors are presented to world in the forms of bio-weapons and cybertronic soldiers and politicians. Follow the story of five and see how they link: Ludwig, a dictator lacking a past, Gilbert the rebel, Emma the survivor, and two others... Warning: Hetero pairings, character death, possible nazi references, violence, language.
Ludwig looked down at the marching men beneath him. Each soldier, tucked neatly and perfectly in their proper stance, proclaiming both power and pride with their coordination.
Intellegence and drive, like well oiled machines.
Then he would look closer into their eyes.
No. No, they weren't men at all, he thought. Just machines. Tools for his usage, but then again, who wasn't?
He found himself humming ever so quietly to the rythm of bounding leather boots, the anthem that had one belonged to this land.
Unity and justice and freedom
For the German fatherland!
For these let us all strive
Brotherly with heart and hand!
Unity and justice and freedom
Are the pledge of fortune;
Flourish in this fortune's blessing,
Flourish, German fatherland!
He dreaded how long it'd been since he had remembered something from his youth. He felt as though his life was missing those fundamental years, although he was positive that they'd once happened.
Every quarter moon, he'd be lucky to hear the soft pecking of distant bullets brush against his ears.
But they were years away, back in his unnamable past.
He'd been told to stay down and count to ten ( that was another memory ).
Just count to ten and one way or another, it'd be over.
So he counted quietly, in the arms of somebody that he couldn't name.
Eins...
Zwei...
Drei...
Vier...
Funf...
Sechs...
Sieben...
Acht...
Neun...
Zehn...
Then, when it was time for him to open his eyes, he found that nothing was there. Nothing but what is now. What he could touch.
Oh, how it urked him, made every bone in his accursed body itch! And so then, with his mind to its boiling point and the wires within his brain twitching, he'd count some more, beginning always the same.
Ein...
...
Ein...
...
Morning sun
The day's dress
Its dress of blue and gold
Through the bloody seas and the valleys of rot
Oh morning sun
"Tim, I told you not to tell me that poem anymore. It scares me."
The girls's brother, a tall man with wheat colored hair, looked at her as if he were about to chide the child.
"As mother would have said, 'be greatful for what you can't see.'" He said, holding up the old dusted green book. "Not very many people still have works of literature in this country, Emma."
"I know, but why does it have to be so...morbid? I guarentee, if you tell that to Nicolas, he'll grow up to be as odd as Ludwig."
Tim's eyebrows arched, mentally telling the young blond girl not to be so blunt about people. Then his eyes closed, breaking like blue shaded glass put to pressure. "Oh," His lips formed the sound, "that little boy across the street you have a crush on?"
He dodged before the shoe Emma had thrown could hit his face.
"For the last time-" The girl growled but was cut off by the sound of a high-pitched whistling.
"Get down." Tim told her, grabbing the child and pressing her child body to the ground. She bit her lip, her heart in her mouth.
A babie's cry could be heard from not too far away, and like a bolt action, the eldest brother shot out of the room.
"Tim!" The blond girl screamed, coming up to her knees.
"Stay there!" He commanded, not even looking back at her. The sound of a nearby explosion swallowed her next cry as she stood up and dashed after her brother.
Another bomb hit as she entered the hallway, jarring the land and sending her into the wall. Her head slammed into the housing, fore-head first causing her to fall to her knees, the world having gone dizzy and serealistic.
Something hot and wet weighed on her golden lashes as she struggled to get back up. As if mockingly, another bomb decided to rupture the earth at that moment, this time sending her down the hell several feet and collapsing a good amount of the ashed ceiling, revealing the night sky and the dreadful sight it bared.
Within its tar-like depths, flying monsters soared, only made visible when their asserting black forms were contrasted by the white moon.
Oh the horrors of it all, like staring the rotting skull of death in the face. She stumbled to her feet as quickly as her body would allow her, and gradually made her way to the room, the babie's cries guiding her.
This can't be happening.
Oh, but it is.
This isn't real. I'm dreaming.
She cried out as the pain rooted itself into her brain. Luckily, she had finally reached the door. Nicolas was still crying.
The sight if her two brothers came to her like a distant world through a portal.
Everything was so...serene.
There, her brother stood, holding Nicolas in his arms, his long scarf looking like deformed wings lined with faded blue, each flowing jaggedly from his back.
She leaned on the door frame, her lips forming all five syllables of their names. Yet, any small amount of sound she could manage to breathe was swallowed by the sounds of explosions surrounding them.
She reached out, frustrated, and screamed to her full extent, setting her lungs to fire.
He must have heard her then because his body immediately jerked in surprise and turned to face her.
His eyes were wide with fear as his lips formed the letters of her name before another bomb hit, consuming the room in black and sending Emma back into the wall.
Sleep took her then.
Thank you and have a very pasta day!