March 13, 1938. Berlin, Germany

The air between the two nations - former nations? They were no longer sure exactly - was thick. Prussia had his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a cigarette in his teeth. Austria was tightly gripping a glass of wine, his knuckles white and hands shaking. Prussia sighed out a puff of smoke. "Well, ain't this hell?"

Austria shook his head. "To think we wasted those weeks in 1866 on whether I'd be apart of this state. We killed those men for nothing. All for our governments to be seized and our people to look like fools to later generations." He took a long sip from his glass. "It's ironic. All the citizen's except my own in the empire wanted independence. I'm relieved for the divorce. If Elizaveta and any of the others got dragged into this with me, I wouldn't be able to cope with the guilt."

"They'll be dragged into it. This guy's an animal. All of Europe will feel his wrath."

They let that hang. Both of them found this situation to be absurd. Since 1740 they'd been trying to destroy each other, trying to beat the other down for power among the German states and all of Europe. Now, here they were, beaten down by a younger nation both of them had dreamed up, controlled by a leader perverting both their histories.

Prussia thought about that. It was something that bothered him deeply. The pictures of him with Bismarck and Frederick made Gilbert nauseous. Neither man would be pleased with a commoner taking their positions, of trying to undo what they did while saying it was a tribute. "He's obsessed with Fritz. When he told me what he planned to do to you, he smiled and said it's what Frederick would've wanted." He scoffed. "If he actually admired him, he would let the people be."

"To be fair, he did plan to march on Vienna in every war." Gilbert shot him a look. Roderich shrugged. "I did say I was being fair, not that he has an accurate understanding of your dear king. It's unfortunate that his grave is being dug up for propaganda again. I thought he'd get a rest after Bismarck was done uniting." Another sip, another beat drummed on silently between the two. "You don't think he'll defile Maria Theresa?"

That made Gilbert laugh. The action sent relief throughout Roderich. At least his queen would be safe.

Prussia leaned down, grabbing his briefcase and throwing it up on the table. He opened it and began handing papers to Austria. "Here. Keep these close. It's a passport, birth certificate, all that shit you need. We've got three Herr Beilschmidts in the house now."

"We've been hiding our relation for centuries and now you want us to be family? My apologies, but I'm rather fond of the name Edelstein." He huffed and slipped the papers in his pocket. Prussia suddenly rose and began going inside. Austria hurried after him. "What's your problem? It's simply the truth! Are you not paying me any attention?"

Roderich continued his complaining as he followed Gilbert upstairs and into a dimly lit room. Prussia flicked the light on, revealing stacks of books and paper. Mementos of Prussia's long past hung on the walls - including a sword Austria was intimately acquainted with - besides portraits of beloved leaders. Gilbert went through the drawers, grabbing and stacking documents before handing them to Austria. "Read and I'll explain."

The Austrian felt compelled to comply, sitting himself comfortably on the couch. His eyes skimmed the pages. It was letters and books, policies enacted and those yet to be introduced. Internal memos detailing beliefs and ideals Gilbert had somehow swiped off desks and in homes. It painted a sickening picture.

Prussia watched tentatively. He'd locked the door and turned on a record so their conversation wouldn't be heard. His hands fiddled with his lighter, that being the only thing he could get a grip on. He took a deep breath. "I sued Ludwig. About six years ago. I was standing strong against these fucking nationalists. I know I've played nice with them before, but these guys are violent. I didn't want that. So my kid brother and his fucking puppets come along and kick me and my guys out of power." His blood was beginning to boil. "So I get the Nazis. And I'm expected to play nice with the Nazis and respect them and I am continuously reminded of how I'm now subordinate by him and his new boss." Gilbert smiled, all teeth and no warmth. "That's how I wound up in this wonderful situation."

Austria frowned and set the papers related to Gilbert's case aside. "And why would they do this? You can't tell me the country that you created, that you raised and are the heart of, is conspiring against you and you expect me to believe it? I'm not an idiot, Gilbert."

"The kids got a completely different personality. It's like Versailles broke something inside of him. He's angry and vengeful. It was my king who led him into failure and my nobility that directed everything. And my stupid fucking free state was doing better than the rest of the nation. He wants to consolidate power under his name, not mine, and I'm apparently too good at the game for him." Prussia shrugged. "You can psychoanalyze that later. This all deals with you too, of course."

Roderich's interest was rekindled. He leaned forward, gripping the paperwork in his hand tighter. "My last name? Tell me why you changed that."

Prussia sat down and nodded. "Edelstein. It's a Jewish last name. I know you've never had troubles with it before - and why would you? It was your country - but these aren't times we've been in before." He laughed bitterly. "I mean, you could keep it. But that would mean you'd be looking at me from the other side of the camps when I'm forced to inspect them - and you'll be doing that with me so we're reminded that we're inferior and he has no problems sending us there."

Austria followed along, reading quickly. Prussia continued speaking, on and on in a more impassioned tone, but Austria had stopped listening. The words shocked him in their cruelty. He'd never before seen his native language as cold and angry as the other nations did, but now he couldn't see it as anything but. The laws, the permits for camps, all the speeches. He couldn't stop reading.

Soon, Gilbert had given up. He sat down in his seat, fiddling with a rifle from the Seven Year's War. He'd let Roderich continue until he was done. The only noise between them was the sound of American jazz filling the room, another small act of rebellion they'd grow to cherish more and more. Finally, Austria unburied his head and met Prussia's gaze. He dropped the papers to the floor.

"What do we do?"

"I'm sending messages to Feliks and those two kids, the Czech and the Slovak, to warn them about what's coming. They're next on the hit list. I've been sending telegrams to Francis and Arthur, begging them to declare war while we're not ready and promising them I'll blow the German plans. All I hear back is from the news. All it is talk of appeasing him." Prussia leaned back in his chair, feeling every year of his age. "My nobility doesn't care. They want war. They want Alsace-Lorraine, Silesia, Eastern Prussia, all the territory I lost. I tell them I don't want to be whole again, that I miss competent leadership and they tell me I've grown soft."

A feeling of defeat hung between them. Clear German military aggression and the world for the first time in centuries doesn't care. It felt like being stuck on an island, like being Cassandra shouting her prophecies. They would be forced to ride the tide of history and hope to not be overtaken.

But, when had they ever done that? Austria looked up as Prussia spoke again, his voice growing more determined. "We'll do what we can. Maybe not as nations, but as Roderich and Gilbert, the only sane men left in the Austrian and Prussian nobility, we can create some impact. We'll go to these camps, follow orders, and we'll help people. Whatever the cost. We can't die, they can't starve us and torture only gets them so far. We lose hope, we lose our people and, more importantly, we'll lose our humanity."

Prussia grinned, the first genuine smile he'd had in months, and Austria returned it. Roderich ran his hands through his hair before laughing. "For anyone else this would be a suicide mission. For us, it feels poetic." Mischief glinted in his violet eyes. "The two of us, taking down the nation we fought so hard to create. Oh, the irony."

Gilbert opened his mouth, but shut it when he heard someone downstairs. He frowned and shut off the jazz. "Speaking of said nation, he's back home from the Chancellery early. This is between the two of us. If he finds out..." His face grew pale and he swallowed sharply. "I'm not sure what he'd do." He opened the door and ushered his cousin out.

"I haven't the faintest idea of what you're insinuating." Austria sniffed, throwing his nose up in the air and walking out the door. "I've been known to be completely loyal to my government. Doubting my loyalty to the Hapsburgs is insulting." He stalked down the stairs, asking Ludwig about the new state of his government.

Gilbert chuckled, trying to keep his voice controlled so Germany wouldn't hear. "And I'll be loyal to the Hohenzollerns till my dying breath. You know firsthand that my obedience has never been in doubt." He gave himself a once over in the mirror and, deciding he looked how he was expected to, went downstairs ready to play his part in this horror.