Red, gold, and black flew in newly minted banners from every balcony it seemed. In a moment of triumph the people's will had risen to the surface. One voice dominated the Spring and it sang with rapture of a German fatherland united against all outside who hoped to divide and destroy it. The shining ideal that had never been was raised above all, deified in song and painting.
And yet, as Prussia stood above it all he felt a profound hollowness. None of his German cousins could name a time when they had been united and strong. The Holy Roman empire had been nothing more than a boy who lived in frustration and died in futility; his passing had been marked by remarkably little mourning from the states that he had ruled, even among those who had the honor of being ruled by the emperor.
The truth was that the Germans, as long as Prussia could remember, had despised the idea of being led. Consensus could only form coalitions in the most desperate of times. But, it did sound lovely in the poems of mortals who did not have the experience to understand the centuries of wounds.
The revolution had taken the streets of Berlin in a way that Prussia had never before experienced; it had been like a wild fire that jumped from house to house. He did not have the forces to snuff it out, and he wondered if it was even the wisest solution. He had given his word that he would fight the reactive power of nationalism and pledged himself in a quixotic crusade against a changing world. But, it had come beating on his door despite all the effort he had put into defeating democracy in every form it appeared. Somewhere within this defeat, there lay a way to victory.
Prussia glanced down at the people assembling in the hall beneath him and still found something of theatre in it. They were the delegates meant to decide the fate of the fatherland, appointed by the will of the people so they claimed. In whose name they worked, Prussia was not certain. They claimed it was for the great power they had once been, and that could be again.
But, he saw nothing of his father in the painting of a beautiful idealized Germania that watched over them all. He had not been a fair maiden with a just sword, he had been a tyrant.
Prussia had only a handful of memories of his father, but he knew from them that the unified Germany that these men sought was a myth.
And yet, he could have remained in Berlin instead of coming all the way to Frankfurt, but the spectacle called to him.
Movement caught his eye and he turned to see that he was no longer alone in his contemplation. The white coat was always unmistakable, as was the scowl that marred the otherwise handsome face. Prussia said, "Greetings, Roderich. Have you come to see the people's choice as well?"
That did nothing to change the expression on Austria's face, though Prussia had hoped that at least it would soften one of the lines that were etched there. Austria joined him at the edge of the balcony before saying a single word.
Only once when he had looked over the edge with a look of haughty, aristocratic disgust, did Austria say, "This will be our undoing." Prussia could see the white in the other man's knuckles in the hand that was balled into a fist. He could have tried to spoken comfort to the man who had become his compatriot in recent years, but Prussia had none.
Instead he said, "Take a breath."
Austria snapped back with an anger that usually did not penetrate his aristocratic manner, "Do you think it is that simple? They've gotten what they want so far. What will they demand next? How long before there are heads on pikes like in France?"
Prussia took a deep breath, letting every trace of what was really in his mind sink below the surface. Austria need not know what he was grappling with. Instead he said, "We should wait to see how this unfolds. Violence now can only feed their flames."
Austria gave him a sneer, "Where was this patience when you went to war with me?"
Prussia met the expression with a glare, "What are you asking of me?" He suspected he knew the answer. Austria's response to crisis was predictable. The other tapped his finger impatiently on the rail of the balcony. He said, "Do what you do best. Rally your troops and charge in. Canon shot will scatter these vermin."
One of the albino's eyebrows arched in response, "What I do with my canon shot is up to my own discretion." Before the Austrian could attempt to dictate to him again, Prussia continued, his gaze drifting down to the floor, "And I choose to wait. Who knows? Nest of rats eat themselves."
Austria replied again, in a tone that was irritatingly familiar, "What do you think is going to happen? Their dream is a fallacy. Trying to rule the German states tore Maximilian apart! Their is no man who could rule us all. It takes a strength that no one possesses." The hall below was was nearly full. And there seemed to be great irony in Austria mentioning Holy Rome, when he had done nothing to publicly mourn him. He had crowned his emperor again and continued on as though nothing had changed.
Prussia answered the question in his own mind first. He hoped for very little, but there was a possibility within it all. Perhaps Austria was correct that it was strength, not consensus, that mattered. But, not strength alone. It had not been enough to defeat that french commoner who had styled himself emperor. It would take wit as well. He could feel Austria's eyes on him, demanding an answer from him.
He said, "What if they do decide on an empire? If they offer you the crown, will you take it?"
Austria shook his head without a moment's hesitation, "They would want a purely German state, and I will not give up the rest of my territory."
He paused for a moment and looked at Prussia with the first smile that spoke to the conspiratorial moments they had shared, those moments where they could almost imagine that they were friends. Then he said, "And you would not accept me anyway."
Prussia smirked to himself, "You are right about that. But you wouldn't accept me either."
Austria turned away from the subject, "But it does not matter because this rabble has no power to give an imperial crown to anyone."
He then turned away with one more glance of the darkest distain at the people assembled below. Prussia lingered a moment longer before turning a questioning gaze towards the Austrian.
He got his answer before he could even bring the inquiry to his lips. Austria said, "If this amuses you, then wait. I am going back to Vienna to deal with the other rebellions in my empire. But, I want this entire spectacle gone by the time I return."
Prussia said, catching the last word before his rival exited the range of his voice, "For a man who doesn't want to rule Germany, you command like an emperor."
Austria directed one more withering look at Prussia before walking away again. Once he was gone,
Prussia returned to his own inward contemplation. Austria seemed convinced that this was just another dangerous radical movement, but Prussia had the distinct feeling that this was a crucial moment. Passion like this would not fade and continuing to fight it would only make him more enemies.
His mind drifted to the secret he was very carefully keeping from Austria. He thought of Ludwig, who was still at home in Berlin. At this hour he was probably playing with his new set of toy soldiers before he was swept up by one of his tutors.
If he still believed in divine will, Prussia would take Ludwig's existence as a sign that unity would come some day. It was only a matter of time and leadership. But, on the question of methods, he agreed with his Austrian counterpart. It would take a strong leader, not the consensus of intellectuals who had little experience with politics. Trying to make an ideal real would only result in failure, especially through a congress.
It could not be done this suddenly; it would take time and patience. Ludwig was not yet old enough to rule; he had so much left to learn before he would be ready. Austria had said that it would take extraordinary strength to unify the German states. Well, that sounded like a challenge.