With these Hands of Mine

by Kornblume Cavalier

Fantasy AU, five different people, two fragments of a soul, six holy seals and the lost memories of a long forgotten past. Will our main characters manage to unite a kingdom torn apart by war? But with death and sacrifice littering the path they take, can they succeed? First fanfic, Prussia centric. Rating may go up depending on the chapters. (ON HIATUS DUE TO PLANNING)

1. Prologue

I do not own Hetalia nor the characters.

Prologue:

"If you were granted the life of a human...what would be the three things You wish to fulfil at that time?"

"...if at all possible, I'd like to protect the things I hold dear with these hands of mine"

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In an age and time so long ago, in a distant land so similar and yet so different to our own-two princes were born to a kingdom that had ruled peacefully for over a millennium. The holy bishop and witnesses there pronounced the two infants twins. Yet as they grew up, they looked so different, many could barely believe that they were related at first glance-the elder, Gilbert, had silvery white hair and bright ruby eyes that burned with a inner crimson flame. By contrast, the younger was an ordinary child with cool cerulean blue eyes and soft golden hair like the gentle rays of the sun after a storm; just like his parents.

But the difference did not just end in terms of appearance; the young albino lord had the gift of being able to wield the threads of darkness-enabling him to manipulate anything that he wanted with a flick of his hand.

To the majority of the citizens, they believed that the two princes lived happily and worked together to rule the land; they could not have been more wrong...

The Queen hated Gilbert with a passion that matched the blazing fires of hell which she kept hidden so well, not even the king or the younger prince whom she was closest to knew of the hate she had in her heart.

Gilbert knew; if it was not obvious from the scrapes and bruises thay he always tried to hide due to 'constant warfare' or 'settling some uprising in a far corner of the kingdom', it was obvious from the occasional forcing of his head into a deep barrel of water till he almost drowned or asphyxiated-sometimes to the point where he forgot his own name.

Unsure of whom he could trust, he attempted to write down his thoughts and seal them away where no one could find them. He had never confided his thoughts or feelings to anyone as he did not want to burden others around him; furthermore, it concerned the Queen he called 'mother'. However, as fate would have it...all secrets are revealed and exposed eventually-its just a matter of time. The Queen caught wind of the secret journals he would write and read them.

Furious, she brought it all out to the king and the younger prince; claiming that Gilbert was nothing but a spoiled brat who knew nothing of respect or how fortunate he was. That and to prevent his behaviour from becoming worse, he had to be punished harshly.

The poor child suffered for his 'act' of course; the next morning, he could barely move from the infirmary bed- whipped till he passed out, he found it a miracle that he was even able to breathe normally. But he had to leave: not for himself, he was much too loyal and noble to the kingdom to do so. The reason was that along the outskirts of the region, Shaddarin wraiths had attacked; urgent and dire reports had been coming in, and the situation was dire.

In the end, he struggled and managed to make his way to the encampment where his men were, and the threat was driven off successfully. Despite the victory, the cost of winning the skirmish took its toll on Gilbert-he had lost more than half his loyal men as they had fallen prey to the minions of death.

Torn with grief inside his heart at having to not just watch his friends and close companions who had followed him to battle many times; some of them from the day he mastered the sword-what sickened him was that they could not bring any of the bodies back for an honorary burial. The corpses had to be destroyed or cremated and their ashes scattered; in a week, those tainted by the wraiths or had their souls consumed would have their physical form taken and used as an empty shell to sow misery and plague.

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Gilbert returned with a heart ladened with sorrow and despair that he kept locked away. Feeling that he might just snap from the overwhelming weight on his shoulders and chest, he sought for some way to release his bottled emotions. Yet if he did so...the only thing he could bring about was more pain and suffering to others around him.

Then...before he could realise when the habit started, he began to create puppets-inanimate dolls to be sure, but they were so lifelike, they could have been human. Storing his pain and darker memories in them, it appeared as if they were the ones who had walked his life and experienced all that he had. When asked by his personal aide why did he create such marionettes, all he answered was;

"Father has to take care of the Kingdom. Brother has mother...so I'll create my own companions. And I will love them...maybe someday they will come to love me back..."

A/N. Hallo! This is my first Hetalia fanfiction and here's the prologue to my story, 'With these hands of mine'. I do hope that you will enjoy it and I do appreciate any criticism that can make this piece better. Do drop a review or PM, and I'll try my best to get to you soon. Until then, auf wiedersehen!

Some terms/notes: Shaddarin Wraiths are basically something like vengeful spirits who died before their time when they were human. Since they refuse to rest in peace, they wander around and try to take possession of a physical form- by consuming the souls of others.

Characters (in this chapter): Elder Prince-Prussia(Gilbert)

Younger Prince-Holy Roman Empire(Gerwig)