Yay, another HRE-is-Germany drabble! (Yes I can't get enough of it. xD) This one's rather more Prussia-centric.
I know that there are some manga strips that hint that HRE grew somewhat during the war, so he would have physically resembled a young teen when he died (*cough*became Germany*cough*). Keeping him as a child suited my purposes in this fic better, however, so do bear with this headcanon of mine.
By the way, if you feel that you've read some parts of this before, that's because it's an expansion of a short fill I posted on the kinkmeme.
Anyway, that's enough rambling from me. As always, I hope you enjoy this little story!
"Okay now, stand properly, West."
"Yes, bruder." The blond child did his best to keep perfectly still, but couldn't help the trembling that was both excitement and nervousness in anticipation of the results. The result was a hilariously stiff posture that made his brother chuckle.
Sharpened lead scratched against worn wood, and the boy heard a sharp intake of breath from overhead.
"Germany, don't stand on your toes."
"But I'm not, bruder."
Red eyes flicked down to check his flat feet. Germany held his breath until the ruler was lifted from his head, hardly daring to hope at the implications. Immediately he spun around, eyes searching for the new pencil mark.
Germany gasped with delight at the black line that rose a good inch above the only other line carved into the wood. They had done this so many times, but every time before this had only add more lines to the original one. But this time… This time had been different!
Blue eyes shining, the child spun again to face his brother. "Bruder! I grew tal…"
The older nation wasn't looking at him, however. He was still kneeling right next to the younger, but it felt as though he was somewhere far, far away.
Prussia's fingers trailed along the two clear etchings in the wood as if in a trance. As Germany watched, a single tear escaped from the clasp of pale lashes to trickle down the elder's cheek.
"Bruder?" the boy tugged at his brother's coat, somewhat alarmed. Those eyes finally focused on him, though they were still glossy with moisture. Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him against that familiar chest. Leaning his cheek against it, he felt the heartbeat that was thumping faster than usual.
"Yes, West, you grew. You finally grew…" The albino's voice was startlingly soft compared to its usual exuberance, thick and almost quivering.
And even though Germany didn't quite understand, he hugged back just as tight, because it simply felt like the right thing to do.
Prussia's first memory was of vivid blue eyes, as a toddler reaching out to a gently smiling blond child. 'I am your bruder,' that child had said, and that had been the beginning.
He remembered the days spent with that same child, the roughhousing that doubled as both training and play. He remembered losing, time and again, to the older boy. He remembered complaining and that child laughing; 'Give it time, you'll grow stronger,' he had said. Prussia had believed it, because if there was one thing he believed in, it was the words of his bruder.
He remembered the first time he won, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins as he pinned that child down with a blunted sword to his throat. Those blue eyes had looked up at him with pride and satisfaction and a tiny twinge of something Prussia hadn't understood then; and the child said, 'See, you've grown.' And Prussia realized, as he pulled his brother back to his feet, that he really had – that he now stood a finger's breadth taller than the other.
He remembered following that child onto the battlefield, sword in hand. He remembered how the sword hilt had rested easily in his hand, while the other's still dwarfed him. Had that back always been so small? Was it just him who had gotten bigger? But then that child had turned back with that familiar fire in his eyes and said, 'Come, Preußen.' With that all doubt was gone, and he followed that tiny back, just as he always had.
He remembered finding that child fallen amongst the ruins of war, vivid blue eyes dulled and fading. He had dropped to his knees, a soundless cry escaping his lips. Blood had soaked through black cloth, staining Prussia's fingers as he pulled them away. So much blood from such a small body. Eyelids that had fluttered shut opened again, finding him briefly before closing again. 'Don't cry, brüderlein,' the whisper had been barely that, almost carried away by the wind. The tears continued to fall, unheedingly.
He remembered waiting, day after day, month after month, year after year for that too-small figure on the bed to wake up – and when that child finally opened his eyes he was still the same as he had ever been, while Prussia had grown, yet again. Strong adult arms had scooped the child up effortlessly even as blue eyes stared at him with confusion. And this time he had been the one to smile, through his tears, and say, 'I am your bruder.'
It's my turn to take care of you.
Thank you for reading! Do leave a review!
About my headcanon, I personally like the theory that HRE is actually the older brother but can't physically grow up because of the instability of his lands. Considering historical info, it depends on how far back you want to trace Prussia's existence. If we stop at the Teutonic Knights (12th century), he would indeed be younger than HRE (900s). It's a different story if we consider Old Prussia, however, but that's a debate for another time.
Shameless advertising: This is part of a mini-series I have informally dubbed "HRE-is-Germany-drabbles". As of now, there are two other short fics in it - "Geheimnis" and "The Heart Remembers". All stories can stand alone, but if you liked this one, do check the other two out as well! And stay tuned for the next installment (currently still in progress), a GerIta sequel to "The Heart Remembers"!
Till next time then, Tschüss!