Hetaverse. Oneshot. Germany/HRE centric.
My own take on what may have happened when HRE died and Germany began.
It's my head canon that Austria and Prussia would be brothers based on their similar situations within the Holy Roman Empire. They just never discuss it.
The small boy drifted in the absolute, unbroken darkness, fear dancing in his pale eyes and throbbing in his chest. Drawing his thin arms around himself, he crouched until his chin rested on his knobby knees. Whispers drifted through the blackness and nipped at unguarded ears, the cool breath of non-existent entities set his skin prickling.
He squeezed his eyes shut simply for comfort, hiding his pale face in his arms.
"-wig…" A gentle sight broke the silence, bearing with it the fragment of a familiar name. "Ludwig…"
Here I am! He wanted to cry out, Please help me! I'm scared…
"Ludwig…"
"H-h…" The words caught in his throat, determined to remain unspoken. Frightened, he groped through the darkness, hoping to find something tangible in this dream-like hell.
Splayed fingers brushed fabric and desperately fastened onto it.
A low, steady voice slipped across his straining ears. "There you are."
"I-I'm here…"
"Ludwig."
"That's my name?"
There was a brief pause. The unseen individual spoke again.
"Yes."
Getting to his feet, the boy struggled to approach the speaker. "Where are you?"
"Nowhere," was the sorrowful response. "We are nowhere."
"How do you know me?" He asked, words trembling in the thin air. "Who are you?"
His invisible companion chuckled softly and a hand found its way to the boy's flaxen head. "We are one in the same: two souls for one body… for one land."
"Two souls?"
"I've fallen." The reply was weary. "I can no longer go on."
With the restless curiosity of a child, he murmured, "Why?"
The hand was pulled away, leaving the boy's head once again exposed to the icy chill of nothingness.
"I was thrown into war after war, fighting so long to hold together a crumbling household." Regret rang in the other's voice. "Humans are stubborn and proud – they will always be quarrelling over some personal offense or a new territorial dispute. However, despite their power over us, their lives are fleeting."
"Then what are we?"
Without hesitation, the unseen being replied, "We are nations."
"But what does that mean?" He was asking, "If we are not human, why can we think, speak, and feel?"
"We are an ancient race, born of the earth amongst settled peoples. We suffer the same fate as our children, feeling every famine, plague, and war." There was the hint of a grimace in the other's words. "And we, too, fight amongst ourselves. One of us is always seeking absolute power, seeking to rule the world for himself. It seems that our planet is more often filled with enemies than with allies."
"It must be lonely." The boy murmured, already feeling cold all through his small body.
Bitter laughter sounded briefly, echoing against imaginary walls. "It is. There is so much backstabbing and betrayal that it is a wonder we even bother with 'friendships' and 'marriages' at all."
"But surely not everyone is bad." His tone was hopeful.
"No," was the suddenly tender reply. "There are some good nations… at least one."
For a moment it seemed as though the speaker would continue. An expectant silence fell upon them. Then, finally, the boy's words tumbled from pale lips. "Do you know any good nations?"
"A few… I was lucky."
"Which ones?"
"My brothers were never too bad," his companion mused, "though they are always fighting amongst themselves, and there's always…"
The unseen nation hesitated.
"Who?" Now he was excited, tugging impatiently at the other's cloak.
"Italy."
A chill ran through the boy when he heard the name. He swallowed, then tried the name for himself. Italy. It was as familiar as his own, warming his cheeks as he carefully formed the syllables. "Italy."
"Yes." The smile was audible as a sigh became an answer. "There was always Italy."
And then he found himself in with tears in his eyes, overflowing and dripping off his chin. His heart was breaking for a stranger, a beloved stranger, known only to him by name.
His grip on the other's clothing was transferred to a warm, callous-roughened hand. It squeezed his own.
"There are so many things you do not understand." The voice was sorrowful. "I'm sorry. Tell Italy that I'm sorry."
The darkness was fading into grey, then white, revealing a young but tired-looking man with a shock of blond hair that fell into his deep, sapphire eyes. A tattered black cloak hung around his shoulders, adding to his desolate appearance. Sensing the child's inquisitive gaze, he forced a smile.
"Be a good nation, Ludwig." He whispered, kissing the other's unlined brow. "And please… please protect her."
Even as the war torn empire faded from sight, the child knew that he was speaking of Italy. He nodded.
"I will! I will!"
Brilliantly blue eyes slid shut one last time, and the man was gone.
"Ludwig!" A new voice pierced the dreamscape, calling him awake. "Ludwig, please!"
The sky was blue, the ground was stained with blood, and a pale man with a scarlet gaze was leaning over him. As he blinked, the older male threw his arms around his thin frame.
"West, thank God!" There were relieved tears on his cheeks as he cradled the child. "God, I'm so sorry."
When this was met with no reply, the albino released his hold and studied the other's face with a mixture of worry and fear in his ruby gaze. There he found only confusion and a blank expression. He cursed, eyes squinting against the fresh wave of pain.
"Do you know me?"
The child shook his golden-locked head.
"I'm Prussia, the Kingdom of Prussia." He said finally, softly, "And you. You're…"
"Ludwig." It was a prompt answer, deeply engrained in his conscious. The kingdom's lips twitched suspiciously as emotion ran wild across his face.
"That's right." He whispered, breath catching in his chest. "You are."
