The first time he saw her was a day of blood.
The've been vasalls for the Roman Empire too long, receiving money, for staying calm, fighting for the and raiding the roman villages around the borders hen ever they could.
Him and his brother were strong together. They were courageous and bold, that's why they were called Franci, the bold. They'd make their own empire!
They don't need this old man to boss them around!
Francis blinked in the darkness after their men's loud singing woke him up. His Brother was still asleep.
His little brother.
Francis silently got on his feet and tiptoed out of the house. It as new having the little boy around, but he liked how the other thought.
They were so different.
One being quiet and stubborn, the other being charming and boisterous...but still they thought alike. If they weren't brothers, the young Rhine-Franks would be his biggest enemy... there was no chance to be neutral with such a person.
He wanted to give him a present to show him, that he was happy they were together. A present to celebrate their greatness.
Silently he went through the village, like a ghost, hiding in the shadow, but neither the jewels he found among the loot, nor the expensive clothing and weapons not even their new slaves where enough to show his gratitude for having a little brother.
People die, he needed something that stayed alive as a memory of their brotherhood.

And then he found it. Barking at him loudly there as a dog in one of the houses, protecting a litter of puppies.
He was not the bravest when it came to dogs, but he knew, that his brother liked animals a lot. So he took one of the puppies and fled from the wrath of its mother.
It was a female dog, blond like his little brother, with floppy ears, a typical guard dog in middle Europe. Francis knew from the little dove he owned, that animals owned by an ethnicity, like them, wouldn't die until their master did.

Francis would never forget the smile of his little brother, when he saw the young dog. It was the first and last time he saw him smile broadly and childlike and without the shadow if worry and sadness that surrounded him like a dark cloud.
They named her Asta, after the gods, the Aesirs. And she surely was strong like a goddess of war, fighting to protect the two brother with a fierceness that was unrivaled among the animals.
She was the one that guarded them, that guarded their house and farm and later their empire.
She was the Hovawart.
When the Francia broke apart, Asta chose to stay with the eastern part. Francis didn't cry when he was left behind.

A sad smile graced Francis lips when he mustered the corpse in front of him. This is my brother he thought in silence. I killed my own brother.
There were no tears on his face. They've fought too long, they hurt each other too often and too deep, for him to cry about his little brother's death.
In the end it wasn't him, that killed him. He couldn't...even if they hated each others guts, there was no way he'd be able to do this. But he was the one who brought the death over the border in the house of his already sick brother.
"I should bury you." he muttered and started to dig a hole.
Noone should see this. At least now in death, his brother was his and not the Austrian's to care about. He as the one that new him the best.
There was no way someone else would get to see him.
This was his baby brother.
And no fight, no hatred, no death could ever stop from being brothers.
The body of his brother as so light. Francis never really got, while the Holy Roman Empire never grew as big as himself, even though the empire itself could rival France in its size.
"sleep time little brother. Greet the hell from me, I'm staying for a little while longer." he whispered, looking down the hole in the quiet, white face.
"Shall I sing you a song, while I tuck you in?"
Alouette, gentille alouette! Alouette he te plumerai, he was singing while black dirt ripple down to the quiet body, deep digged his shovel into the big heap of earth beside him, again and again, until he couldn't sing anymore and the corpse of his brother was finally hidden.
It started to rain, but Francis didn't feel it, didn't feel the burning in his eyes from tears, that he didn't allow himself to cry, he just felt a big hole, the vacuum beside him in the east.
He tried to fill it, he wanted to fill it, there was no way he'd stop now, that he was with Napoléon, conquering Europe. He has conquered Europe once, together with his brother... but he was a grown man now, He could do it alone! He didn't need his baby brother at his side.

He must have fallen asleep were the first cloudy thoughts.
Something wet touched his cheek.
Francis blinked into the morning sun.
Asta!
The blond dog had left hair all over the French's dirty uniform, when she came to wake him up. Whimpering silently tapping from one paw on the other until Francis managed to get on his feet
Francis was confused, that she was still alive.
The pets of a nation usually died when their master faded away.

He silently mustered the fresh grave patting the dogs head. There was no stone or cross telling the name... it's a little sad, he thought, but there was no way he could write the name of a nation on a gravestone.
"I've got to go, little brother. Watch me conquering Russia." he tried to smile.
It as quiet.
"Don't be sad! I'm back to visit you in just a bit again. Big Brother won't forget!"
it was time to go back to his people, he thought and tried to call Asta, but the dog stayed faithfully at the heap of black dirt, that protected Francis' baby brother from the crows.
The French man didn't see the toddler, that joined her a few minutes later.
Feverish, rawboned and with a determined look on the face, the tiny hands balled to fists.
He didn't know what mind of a monster was born in a childs head there on the grave of a Frank. A bold one.
One killed by his only true brother.

When he noticed it was too late to stop it. Wars shook Middle Europe for decades.
He probably would never noticed, if the end of the second War didn't end in front of a crumbled building. With a blond dog fiercely guarding the unconscious form of the former German Empire.
America want to shoot the dog to get past it...but Francis wouldn't allow the living memorial of his brother and their brotherhood to die like that.
"Asta!" he whispered silently.
"It's me!" his voice broke while he carefully reached out his bandaged hand towards the dog.
He knew this place! There under the rubble, the unconscious Germans body and faded grass, there was a little hill...and under this were the bones of his baby brother.
"It's okay, Asta. We'll stop fighting now. It's over. I won't do it again!" he wasn't sure if he was trying to calm the dog or him self.
It helped though, Asta let him past her and he dragged himself tiredly to the Germans side.
"Stupid kid!" he muttered sitting down beside the defeated.
"Even in death you sure knew how to give me a hard time, petit frère!" he grumbled as silently shook the boy until he opened his eyes.
He as tired of war and death. He was tired of his people hiding, people lying, denunciating their family and friends, brothers killing brothers.
"You won't die!" he pressed past his tears looking at the silent young nation... it was scary how young Germany looked, now without the uniform and without people that tortured and murdered in his name. If he didn't stop the process, He'd become a human and then even a single wound or a little illness, that would have been easy to shake off by a nation, would kill him.
He's seen it once.
He had felt the hole, the vacuum in the east once.
There was no way, he'd want to live through this again.
"We'll make this work! We'll build everything up again!"
We'll be allies. This is our Home.
Asta turned around and nuzzled his dirty locks. Ludwig lifted a bruised hand to carefully pet her ears.
"I don't think I can do that." he muttered not looking up.
"I'm broken."
"We'll repair you."
They'll be strong together.
Strong, free, stubborn and bold, like Franks.
They'll try to make it right this time.

It was a day where no blood was shed.
The Founding European Coal and Steel Community. They've worked hard for this. Western Germany's and his hands touched for a second when they posed for a group photo, together with Luxembourg, Italy, Netherlands and Belgium. Italy stood out like a sore thumb being the only one not part of the former Empire of Francia.
If they wanted peace, they had to fight for it together.
When Francis glance to his eastern side, there was a blond young man, with fresh scars and a careful, shy smile.

He should give Germany a present, Francis thought.
A present to celebrate their new found chance for peace in Middle Europe.
Germany liked dogs a lot, didn't he?
He should give him a dog.

The sight of the puppy, a little male German Shepherd, made Ludwig grin happily, like a child. The Smile was so radiant,that old man France felt his face burn.
"What name shall we give him?" the German asked excited, sitting so close that his arm rubbed against the eastern side of his neighbour.
"You can name him, it's your dog after all." Francis felt a bit uncomfortable, how much alike this young man was his little brother. Rhine-Franks has asked the same thing back then in the 5th century.
"It's Berlitz. Then." Ludwig said, cuddling the ball of fur and hiding
"He was a good guy. He taught us foreign languages."
"You give your dog the name of a jewish language teacher?"
"He did a good job teaching languages all over the world and making it possible for people from different country to understand each other. Isn't it nice to be able to talk with each other?"
Francis sighed and ruffled his neighbours hair, bringing the carefully combed back strands out of order.
"You're right. It's a good name to remember that people have to talk with each other, to make peace work."
Asta snuffled curious at the puppy.
There was no blood and Francis didn't dare to fear that, the relaxed smile of his neighbour would be replaced by a mask of hatred, despair and angst again.
So this is how peace feels like, huh?
"You can call me "big brother" if you want." he grinned generously.
Germany laughed.
"You had your chance, being a big brother! I can call you "Old man" instead."