WARNINGS: Discussions about Hitler and the Holocaust


i.

The first time, it was just a discussion about the projector Monroe found in the trailer.

"Have you used it yet?"

At the sound of Monroe's voice, Nick looked up from the diary he was immersed in. "Used what yet?"

Monroe gave him the annoyed look that he saved for when he found Nick being particularly stupid. "The old Kineclair projector I found here, of course."

At the mention of the projector, Nick perked up. "Oh yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that!"

"So…does it still work? Tell me!"

"Oh, yeah, it works," Nick said, for a moment looking surprised at the thought that Monroe thought differently. "No, it's about a film I played on it – I found it in Farley Kolt's hotel room."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

"It kind of has the potential to be a touchy subject," Nick murmured, looking at Monroe worriedly.

"Yeah, well, we've been dealing with touchy subjects ever since we met, so I don't think that that's going to be too much of a problem."

Nick smile crookedly. "Yeah, I guess we have," he mused. "The film I saw was about Hitler and-"

Monroe exhaled heavily, stopping Nick in mid-sentence. "Yeah, I wondered if that would ever come up," he said, taking a seat on the ground next to Nick. "Unfortunately, die Führer was indeed one of my kind. Not the proudest moment for blutbaden as a whole, let me tell you that. Even going by the general serial killer attitude displayed by most wolves, he went overboard."

"Yeah, I'd say so," Nick said. "So wait – what else has history gotten wrong?"

"Well, a lot of those imprisoned were wesen – Hitler was a member of the Purewelt Orden, and they act according to the Reinheitsgebot. That's basically an ancient – and outdated – wesen purity law, which basically banned interspecies marriage. And, of course, all of Germany's Grimms were part of the first people gassed. And then there's the circumstances of his death, but that's pretty common knowledge."

"What, you mean the fact that he killed himself?"

Monroe quirked an eyebrow at Nick. "Wow, you really haven't started reading the books here, have you? I'm pretty sure there's a mention of it somewhere – it was an English Grimm who killed Hitler and his wife. He was part of a special team the British Crown sent into Germany – all wesen, apart from the Grimm in question, of course. They covered it up as a suicide, because there really wasn't any other way to explain it to the general public."

Nick blinked at the blutbad, unsure of what to say. "Um…wow,' he finally managed. "I think you're right – I should probably start reading some of this stuff, at least the books on the wesen I've actually encountered in nothing else."

Monroe smirked, looking all too pleased with himself. At least their talk had managed to convince Nick to do something that he had been trying to convince the detective to do since he had first seen the contents of the trailer. He had no doubt that Nick would forget all about it in a week or so, but at least he would make some progress in that time period.

ii.

Somehow – Nick wasn't quite certain on details, really – Monroe had managed to convince him to accompany him to local wesen bar. He'd been a bit doubtful at first – he really didn't want to spend the night assuring everyone in the place that he wasn't about to cut off their heads – but Monroe had said that there were a good number of regular human patrons there too and that they'd just assume Nick was a new human.

So he had agreed. Which was how he found himself in the middle of rather crowded bar at Monroe's side, listening to orders fly in for some of the oddest drinks he had ever heard of.

To be fair, it was a rather nice place – it just wasn't the kind of place that Nick liked to frequent. Give him a diner or a café or even someone's house any day.

A groan from the man at his side pulled him out of his thoughts.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. Considering where they are, Nick wouldn't be surprised if Monroe noticed someone who just happened to be a Reaper or otherwise out for one – or both – of their blood.

The last thing he expected was for Monroe to groan, "That song," and slam his head on the table. It looks painful, like he's trying to erase some sort of horrific memory.

As the first few notes started to play, Nick realised he knew the song in question.

"You've got something against Duran Duran?" he asked, sounding confused. After all, it was Duran Duran. "Because if you do, we really need to have a talk."

Monroe groaned, even louder this time. "I forgot how painfully uneducated you are," he said, his voice muffled by the table. "I like them just fine, it's the song I have a problem with. Listening to a couple of blutbaden sing about their hunts doesn't really help with wieder thing, you know."

Nick looked at Monroe, shock evident in his eyes. "You're saying they're blutbaden? Now I know you're pulling my leg."

Monroe lifted his face long enough to direct an eye-roll at him. "Honestly, it's not like they're being subtle. 'Hungry Like The Wolf' mean anything to you? You know, the Grimm side of you?"

Nick was pretty sure he looked rather idiotic, his mouth hanging open as it was.

Not that Monroe noticed it – he'd returned to making out with the table as soon as he finished talking.

iii.

"Monroe tells me you guys were part of the Löwen Games once," Rosalee commented during a particularly slow day at the shop. Nick had taken a rare day off, and bored, was lounging around the shop.

(Maybe he was hoping he'd get to scare a few eisbieber – his home was still being flooded with pies and cakes and knitted things, and he was a bit tired of it all – but he wisely kept that to himself. Rosalee could be rather terrifying when she wanted to be.)

"Not willingly, but yeah we did," Nick replied unconcernedly.

"I must admit, I'm surprised that they actually let you in the ring, instead of, you know, just killing you altogether," she mused.

Nick raised an eyebrow. While he could understand the sentiment – predatory wesen weren't really the ask questions first type when they saw a Grimm – the fact that Rosalee was saying so piqued his interest, and he said as much.

"Well, it's basic wesen history, isn't it?" she asked, looking surprised at Nick's confusion.

At Nick's uncomprehending look, she sighed. "I forgot – Monroe told me you didn't exactly know too much about wesen history, and that he hadn't told you much. I'm guessing you know where the Games started off, right?" she asked.

"Sure. They're basically the decedents of gladiator fights."

"Yeah, but who do you think got the löwen so involved in gladiator fighting in the first place? Back when Rome was still an empire, they were the top gladiators, like the rockstars of their time. And it all started with one man."

"Do I even want to know?" Nick asked, sighing.

"Of course you do!" Rosalee sounded just a bit too cheerful for Nick's peace of mind. "Ceaser – Julius Ceaser, that is – was a löwen, you know. It was under his rule that the lions became so powerful. And then, well…"

Nick had a rather bad feeling about this. "Does this have something to do why random people keep on shying away from me on the streets today?" he asked suddenly, some cop-instinct telling him that they were related.

"It was only the most famous Grimm-led assassination in history!" Rosalee exclaimed, sounding extremely put out. "And it was carried out today – the Ides of March. Why do you think Brutus wanted Ceaser dead so badly? It had absolutely nothing to do with the Roman Republic, I can assure you of that…"

It was then that Rosalee noticed Nick's surprised look. She let out a long sigh. "You know what?" she asked, "You and I, we need to get you up to date on wesen history – this is all stuff you might need to know one day!" she exclaimed.

Before Nick could reply, she had disappeared to the back of the shop, muttering something about irresponsible Grimms. In that moment, Nick was strongly reminded of exactly why he didn't take too many days off.

iv.

"Never again," Nick groaned, collapsing into Monroe's armchair.

From the sofa, Hank just grunted in agreement.

"What's got you two so exhausted?" Monroe asked, poking his head out from the kitchen, where he was working on some concoction whose details were best kept secret, if only to prevent the horrified looks.

"Elvis impersonators," Hank practically whimpered from his spot. "Oh god, the sequins. And the jumpsuits."

"I do not ever want to see a grown, obese man in a skin-tight white jumpsuit. Not even if it's to save the world," Nick forced out, sounding horrified, terrified, and generally in complete agreement with his partner.

"What did Elvis do to you?" Monroe asked, sounding mystified as he walked into the living room. "As far as I know, he's dead, isn't he?"

"Not the actual Elvis, of course. There's some Elvis impersonator convention or something going on. Why they couldn't have stuck to Vegas, I don't know," Hank grumbled.

"Anyway, they all decided to get completely drunk, and let's just say that it wasn't very pretty, at the hotel or in the precinct. I swear to all that is holy, I am never listening to his songs again – at least not for half a year, if not longer," Nick said.

It was only then that he noticed the considering look in Monroe's eyes, and let out another groan. He really didn't want to know where the blutbad's mind had gone to, but he doubted he had a choice.

He was proven right when Monroe opened his mouth. "Are you sure it was an Elvis convention?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. Why else would there be a bunch of guys willingly dressed up as Elvis?" Hank asked, his voice making it clear that he thought Monroe was being dense.

"Well, it could have been a ziegevolk convention," Monroe mused.

"Wait, what?" Nick exclaimed. "Do I even want to know why you're thinking that?"

Monroe shot Nick an extremely unimpressed look. "Have you been sleeping during your lessons with Rosalee again? She won't be pleased to hear that."

The look of terror on Nick's face, even if it was there for only a second, seemed to please Monroe, going by the smile on his face. "Elvis was one of the most famous ziegevolks in history. Right up there was Casanova," he continued. "And sure, there are legitimate Elvis conventions, but there's a lot of times where it's ziegevolks – it's perfect camouflage for them. Even if the Elvises you guys took in were mostly, I'm ready to bet that there were at least a few wesen sprinkled among them."

"You know what?" Hank said. "I don't want to know." And he buried his face into the sofa once again.

Nick found he completely agreed with that opinion.

v.

"Wait, I don't get it."

Captain Renard sighed. "I'm not sure what's there not to get, Nick," he said. From his face, it was obvious that he was trying to keep his patience. "It's all really rather straightforward."

"Look, I understand the details of the Royal families well enough, I'm just confused why the Bristish Royals aren't on the list. I thought they were among the most influential royal families still in existence!"

Renard gave his subordinate a tired look. In that moment, he completely clueless about what had motivated him to offer to teach Nick about the politics of the wesen world – not only did that mean he had to spend even more time at the precinct after everyone else had left; there was also the problem of one Nicholas Burkhardt himself. Nicholas Burkhardt, who seemed to love trying his patience in ways not even his family could dream of.

"I thought you were getting lessons on famous wesen from Rosalee," he tried.

"I got bored," Nick shrugged, and he fought back the urge to groan, because that just figured.

"The British Royals are mainly Kehrseite-Genträge, which means that there's always a possibility of a wesen turning up in their line. We believe the wesen blood entered their line with Queen Victoria – Alexi Romanov was not suffering from haemophilia, I can assure you of that. The Seven Royal Families are, on the other hand, purely human – apart from me, of course, but that's a whole different story altogether."

Nick blinked at his Captain in shock. The British royal family…it was a lot to take in. "What kind of wesen are they?" he asked tentatively. Some part of him wondered if he really wanted to know the answer, but, well, controlling his curiosity wasn't exactly something he was used to.

"No one knows for sure," Reanrd answered shortly. "Whatever records of it there were, they were lost during the World Wars – but whatever they are, it's enough to make sure that there's always a Grimm in London, just in case their – services – are needed."

Nick stared. A Grimm always in London, ready to assassinate- he really didn't want to think about it. As far as he was concerned, the wesen world could keep their famous members to themselves – he had already had his world turned over several times over realisations of just how many influential people were wesen, and he had had enough.

All he needed to know was which ones were in Portland. The rest he was more than happy to ignore.


A/N: This is based on a kink meme prompt:
Discussions of famous wesen: "Now I know you're pulling my leg."
"It's not they're being subtle. 'Hungry Like The Wolf' mean anything to you?"

The details about Hitler and the Purewelt Orden are courtesy of the Grimm Wikia, and they're based on information from the comics. The part about his death being at the hands of a Grimm, on the other hand, are entirely my own invention.
As for Nick - well, I love it when he's generally being annoying about stuff to Rosalee and Monroe, and I thought that it wasn't fair that the good Captain didn't have to deal with some of that. Hank, on the other hand, is completely on Nick's side.

I hope you guys liked this! As always, please don't forget to drop a review on your way out! :)