Author's note: Hello, everyone! Welcome to my fic, first of all. While there are not any triggers or real warnings for this chapter, I believe you should all know what you're going to be reading.
This fic will contain: Shonen-ai, Yaoi, numerous pairings, incest, self-harm, violence, death, cruelty, swearing, abuse, implied non-con, and other things that may make you uncomfortable.
Disclaimer: I honestly don't own Hetalia, and I'm not making any sort of profit.
Expanded Summary: They shared many things. Austria, Switzerland, Prussia, and Germany were bound by similarities and differences, by love, by hate, by a past they could never outrun, and by the elation they each felt at the pain and failure of others: Schadenfreude. The monster in the mirror was the pain of their peoples. Through war, and pain, and even prosperity, the only constant was each other. Prussia was the favorite son. Germany was Frankenstein's monster, grown from the ashes of a childhood no one wanted to remember. Switzerland was caught between two great loves, the past and the present, and his own morality. Austria was an outsider amongst those closest to him, unremarkable compared to his family. This is their history, with each other and the other nations, the chronicles of their existences marred by their own humanity.
We were united by many things in the old days: blood, honor, love, hate, friendship, alliances, a language, ideas, ideals, cultures, and the overwhelming sense of loneliness that came with being a nation. Now, things are different. We each dance to a new song, individuals who can't really claim that the bindings of family still apply to them, strangers in a world moving several beats faster than we are.
Our bond today is a bond of memories based in the pains of our peoples. There was a point in time where calling each other by our real names was something we took for granted, something we abused constantly. I can't think of anyone who calls me Roderich anymore. I'm not even sure our current bosses are quite aware that we are just as human as they are, if not more.
We are not immortal; Rome and Germania taught us that. We are not anything other than cursed beings. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote that God is dead, and I used to scoff at that. People will always surprise you, that I've always known. I just wish I'd learned sooner that the surprises often came in the form of cruelty.
In German, we have a phrase so suiting that the English language has now adopted it as well: Schadenfreude, or joy at the misfortune of others. A form of sadism, to be sure, but I find it apt that the term originated in our lands. Because, if we weren't getting any joy out of the pain we brought to each other and our denizens, what was our purpose?
There are infinite forms of love, and far be it from me to pretend that when I dwell on any them that I'm doing anything more than grasping at straws. I have loved many people, in many ways. Switzerland was the first, then Spain and the Italy brothers, followed by Hungary, Germany, and numerous humans inter-spaced between them. Not all of these loves were sexual, and the line between amorous love and platonic affection has always been a thin, gray thing for me. However, as flippant as I may seem in my affections, as unsure as I am of the nature of love, I believe firmly that I have experienced, on some level, true love in the arms of a certain diary-keeping, platinum-haired Prussian.
It's a pity that the best of loves are the ones most often laced with tragedy.