I know I need to update "Brothers," but for some reason both Romano and Prussia have decided to be divas and make my life difficult. I hope to get the next chapter of "Brothers" out before classes resume in September. (Those of you brave souls who are still sticking with that story, you have my eternal gratitude.)
Now, as to where this story came from, I have two words for you: Term. Paper. The term project for my politics class last winter was to write a paper analyzing any political event in history. Being the masochist that I am, I chose to analyzing the various dates for Prussia's "death." And let me tell you, there is a massive difference between researching something out of curiousity and researching something because it's personal. I started that paper because of curiosity and after certain discoveries were made, it become incredibly personal. I spare you the family drama and let you see the fruits of that term paper in this story.
That being said, I am going to say this once and only once: Some unpopular opinions/headcannons may be presented in this story. To be perfectly honest, I don't think anyone has ever viewed Prussia and Germany's relationship through the lens I do in this story, so I don't know how any of this will be recieved. I promise to do my best to make this as enjoyable a read as possible regardless. (I'd love to say more, but that would give away some important plot points.) Please bear in mind that I am attempting to make this as historically accurate as possible, which will affect how certain characters are portrayed and what their roles are.
Also, before we begin, here's a little guide to help you through the names and phrasing:
Aloїsia: Formerly the Electorate of Brandenburg and Prussia's wife, forming the kingdom of Brandenburg-Prussia, later simplified into the Kingdom of Prussia. She died at the end of World War Two. Primarily responsible for Prussia's transformation from a Baltic tribe/duchy to a Germanic nation.
Katrine: Formerly the Kingdom of Bavaria (Bayern), though why she is still alive is somewhat of a mystery.
Frederick: Formerly the German Democratic Republic (Deutsche Demokratische Republik). It's not quite known how exactly he survived the reunification, but it's been mostly explained away by the fact that East Germany continues to trail behind its western counterpart.
Italy/Veneziano/Feliciano: How Italy is referred to in this story is significant and taken primarily from the ending notes of "Brothers." For the sake of that story, I won't go into any further detail than this: Germany and Katrine will always refer to Italy as "Veneziano" or its German equivilent depending on who they are speaking to and whose point of view the scene is in. France will always call Italy "Italy" with the same rules applied to French as German. His human name, Feliciano, will only be used by Romano and maybe Hungary. Maybe.
Foreign languages: I'm more in my element here than in "Brothers," as German is a language I have much more familiarity with. However, I intend to keep speech and language organized. If two characters are speaking the same language, like German, then their speaking parts will be written in English with no attention to accents or word order, but only if the scene is from the point of view of someone who speaks the same language. If two characters are speaking the same language but it is a second or so on language to one of the participants, accents and word order will be acknowledged and played with. Words from other languages will only be used in attempted communications across the language barrier.
Chapter warnings: hinted past adult situations, hinted past non-con, a grand total of one (maybe two?) pervy fantasies created by Germany's absolutely wonderful imagination, mentions of current (or maybe not by now) events, and the thwarted abuse of alcohol towards the end.
And I do believe that is all for this author's note. I don't own Hetalia (though if I did it would be brought up to all of its epic potential instead of just being politically incorrect humor) nor do I own history. The only thing I am responsible for is the writing and the ideas being toyed with here. If any of you dear readers catch any grammatical errors, continuity errors, mistakes I didn't catch, or anything else like that, please either point it out in your review or send my a private message so that I can address the problem.
Okay then, enjoy this opening number!
The day is pleasant; the sky is a brilliant blue with only few fluffy wisps of white drifting lazily through it. Sunlight fills the world and warms the earth, and the air is neither hot or humid nor is it chilly. Trees have unfurled their leaves and the flowers are in the middle of blooming and filling the world with color.
Ludwig adores this time of year; he is overjoyed to finally get out of the castle he spent the last few months confined to and expel the pent-up energy. Both Aloїsia and Gilbert keep a close eye on him so that he doesn't wander too far from the safety of the castle. The world is a dangerous place, no matter how pretty, and they are only doing their jobs of protecting him from the world's harms.
"Ludwig, darling, don't wander off too far," Aloїsia calls as she watches him follow a butterfly through the flower-encrusted meadow.
Yes, it is annoying to be constantly under watch, but Ludwig understands the reasons for it. At least, he understands the basic concepts of it. He knows he can't fully understand unless he has experienced exactly what his guardians are defending him from, and both steadfastly refuse to allow such experiences the chance to occur.
"Yes, Mother, I won't." Had Ludwig looked back, he would have seen the strangest look on Aloїsia's face at the word 'mother', even if he had said it a slightly exasperated way.
The young boy pauses for a moment to look over at his caretakers. Aloїsia had the idea of the three of them spending this rare moment of peace together outside since the weather was so nice, especially as she swore up and down that nothing healed wounds faster than a little fresh air and sunshine. Gilbert hadn't refused her (Ludwig often wonders if the albino could refuse his wife anything) and so they had slipped away from the lords and ladies of the court.
The two seem to be engaged in some sort of debate (not an argument; arguments are loud shouting matches that often turn into wrestling matches with fists flying and teeth bared, which Ludwig finds both fascinating and horrifying all at the same time) and it is probably over whether or not Gilbert is being truthful about the amount of pain he is in. Ludwig's guess is proven correct when Aloїsia, without preamble, smacks him on the back and he lets out a half-repressed cry before glaring at her. She merely offers him a smile and waves the roll of bandages in a teasing manner.
After running around for a while longer, Ludwig's stomach rumbles a bit, alerting the boy to the fact that he hadn't eaten in several hours and as a growing boy, he needs food. He decides to head back to where Gilbert and Aloїsia are sitting on the blanket she had set out. Gilbert had shifted so that he is lying down and using his wife's lap as a pillow. He isn't asleep, focusing instead on her face as they exchange soft words. The sight makes something in Ludwig feel fuzzy and warm. He can't understand those who passed through the castle comparing the two Nations to demons or devils or whatnot. Ludwig can't see that in them; he can only see the absolute love and caring they have for one another, the warmth they share and the way they make him feel loved and safe whenever he so much as frowns. There is nothing evil about them.
"Back so soon, Little One," Aloїsia asks with a wry smile, tearing her eyes from her husband's in order to focus on the little boy.
Ludwig nods, and opens his mouth to speak when his stomach cut him off. He flushes in embarrassment as the older two break out into laughter.
"Lunchtime already, West?" Gilbert's grin is massive as he shifts again and pulls himself up to a seated position, his good arm bracing his weight on his knee.
The boy nods, shifting a bit from the embarrassment.
"Don't be so embarrassed, darling," Aloїsia says gently, pulling out the food items she had taken from the kitchens. "You're still young and growing; you need to eat properly."
"Yeah, enjoy it while it lasts, kiddo," Gilbert adds. "You don't get to enjoy it so much when you're an adult."
"Why not?" Ludwig takes the sandwich his sister hands him.
Gilbert shrugs and then leans back, using his good hand for support. "Life gets in the way a lot. Other Nations are idiots, and then there's wars and stuff like that. Sometimes you have to go for days or weeks without much food and even less sleep."
"That sounds terrible…"
"Eh, it's how we get along." Of course Gilbert is so nonchalant about starvation and sleep deprivation. Ludwig can't help but wonder how much personal experience Gilbert has with such things. "Worse things can happen than being hungry or tired.
"Just don't be in such a rush to grow up, West. Take some time to be a kid; you won't believe how many Nations wished they had had that time."
Germany was annoyed. It wasn't his default annoyance, brought on by Veneziano's ridiculous behavior or the utter nonsense his fellow Nations were capable of. Rather, his annoyance stemmed from the fact that he had lately fallen under a constant barrage of memories from his childhood and young adulthood. He would randomly recall instances of peace and war, of happiness and sorrow. Too often for his liking, he could swear he heard Prussia or Brandenburg saying something as loud and clearly as if they were standing right beside him. Sometimes he was certain he saw them in the crowd, going about their lives as if they had never been powerful Nations.
He wanted no recollection of those times. Prussia had been a menace towards him; a constant source of militarism and other such unfavorable things that had kept getting him into trouble. It had been the happiest day of Germany's (admittedly short) life when he was told that Prussia was out of his life for good. (He made it a point to ignore the part of him that severely missed the man who raised him; the part that still cried out for Prussia's presence when the nightmares became too much, or when everything seemed to be going wrong.) Germany would admit to missing Brandenburg, as he truly did miss her. She had been the calm to Prussia's storm, the smile and comfort to his grin and protection.
"Ve, you look really tired, Germany," Veneziano pointed out as they left the conference room. (It was so wonderful to have the Italian back at his side after so many long decades of only catching glimpses of him at the meetings…)
"Oui, mon cher," France agreed, placing the back of his hand on Germany's forehead. "Dear Italy is right: you look positively exhausted. And you feel a tad warm. You are not catching this recession illness, are you?"
The two Romantics shared a worried look of concern on their faces. The cynical, overworked part of Germany's mind wondered if their concern stemmed from their personal feelings toward him or from their national interests. Germany was the strongest nation left in the European Union, the one everyone was looking to for help out of the financial crisis. Greece's future was still looking grim, and Italy's wasn't fairing much better.
"I am fine," Germany said, waving away their concern as he moved forward.
"You have been overworking yourself, haven't you," France asked, hurrying to reclaim his place at Germany's side. Veneziano followed France's example and took the other side. "I have told you time and time again that in order to be of any use to anyone, you must first take proper care of yourself, have I not?"
"Ja, ja," Germany muttered as they headed toward the checkout point. (It was so much easier to check out than check in; why was that?)
"Yeah, Germany, you should at least get a decent amount of sleep! If you don't sleep enough, then your brain gets really tired and can't work right and then you say and do silly things—not that I think Germany would ever do anything silly, but you can never know because lack of sleep can make a lot of people do really strange and crazy things sometimes—"
"Italy," France said gently, "you need to breathe."
Veneziano stopped his rambling rant and took a deep gulp of air. Germany smiled a bit and shook his head at his friend's antics. Honestly, the Italian could be such a motor-mouth once he got going. It was honestly a wonder he had yet to pass out from forgetting to breathe. The smaller man smiled and thanked France for reminding him of that important fact, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as his face took on the cutest blush Germany had seen—no. You should not be thinking of him in that way. You love France, not Veneziano.
It wasn't that Germany no longer loved Veneziano—quite the opposite, in fact, as there was some part of him that still made his heart stumble in his chest when the redhead was around, that made him desire nothing more than Veneziano's beautiful smile, that drove him nearly mad with thoughts of finally capturing those soft lips and claiming the other as his own. But Germany couldn't do as he wanted with Veneziano. Germany was dating France, and Germany did feel some sort of affection for him. It wasn't the maddening love (lust?) he felt towards Veneziano; there was something else there, something a bit calmer and more…controlled about how he felt towards the Frenchman. When he thought of Veneziano, he thought of having that small, lithe body laid out on his bed, legs spread and body flushed and that beautiful voice begging him for more give me more, Germany, Germany—another mental slap to snap him out of that particular fantasy. But with France, Germany didn't find himself thinking of bedroom business quite as much. He thought of calm, cozy evenings in the comfort of one of their homes, sipping wine or beer or whatever drink they so desired at the time while chatting about whatever topic came up.
France wasn't half the sex-crazed pervert most of the world saw him as; they had only had sex a grand total of twenty times in, what was it, going on forty or more years? And when they did decide to engage in such an act, it was surprisingly vanilla and Germany refused to top. (He didn't like to think about the last time he topped someone; couldn't bear to think about sweet, little Veneziano lying broken on the cold concrete floor, blood slowly oozing out of the various wounds on his body as well as from his ravaged entrance. He couldn't handle the memory of those usually vibrant and expressive amber eyes dulled and lifeless, as though Veneziano had retreated to the furthest reaches of his mind to escape his defilement.) France had tried to coax him into switching, but they never got very far before it all became too much and Germany broke down.
"—ow, I'll be the one driving us back to the hotel!"
Veneziano's voice broke through the haze of Germany's thoughts and the approaching tidal wave of guilt and self-loathing that always came from thinking about the wars. It took a moment for the message to sink in, though when it did, Germany's eyes widened. Veneziano's driving skills were legendary (if not flat-out infamous) and Germany had no desire to see his car put through such a thing, off days be damned.
"No need, I shall drive," Germany said as he moved towards the driver's side only to be stopped by France.
"Mon amour, perhaps I should drive instead. You have been rather out-of-sorts, as it were."
Germany opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat before they could escape, and he handed the older nation the keys. Instead of moving to the front passenger seat (like he was certain Veneziano had been expecting, judging from the awkward movements the smaller man made), Germany opened the backseat driver's side door and got in. For a moment, Veneziano opened up his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but a look from France kept him quiet and he got in the passenger seat.
The car was painfully silent. The situation was obviously making Veneziano feel uncomfortable; the redhead was used to near-constant background noise of some variety and the muffled sounds of the car as it moved through the streets didn't seem to satisfy the vibrant Italian's craving for sound. For a brief moment, it crossed Germany's mind that he should say something or have France turn on the radio, but the thought dissipated almost as quickly as it materialized. He honestly had no idea what to say; his relationship with Veneziano was still a far cry from what it was originally.
Ludwig stared intently at Gilbert and Aloїsia. He had been watching them closely for days, trying to come up with a list to a successful relationship. They had something Ludwig was observant enough to know wasn't entirely too common in the age of marriages arranged for money, power, and territory. He didn't know what exactly it was that separated them from other husbands and wives, but Ludwig hadn't seen the same level of devotion in many of the married couples in his life. The only one he could think of was Louisa and her fiancé Alexander, but still something was different.
"Do you love Brother, Sister?"
Aloїsia spit out the beer she had just taken a drink of in her surprise, coughing a bit to dislodge whatever remained. Ludwig watched curiously, although Aloїsia's reaction had him a bit worried. Aloїsia was the closest thing to a maternal presence in his life that he had, and it would make Gilbert incredibly sad if she were to die because Ludwig asked the wrong question.
"Why on earth would you ask something like that?"
Ludwig shrugged, happy that it seemed like Aloїsia was going to be fine. "It's just…I've been wondering. Miss Louisa and Mister Alexander seem to love each other a lot, but you and Brother don't act like they do."
"They're love-struck humans, Ludwig. Unlike Gilbert and I, they've never had to endure centuries of war and bloodshed and countless other hardships. To be honest, dear one, I don't think any of our kind have the ability to love. At least, not in the human sense."
"What do you mean?"
Aloїsia sighed and turned to face him.
"Think about it. We are basically immortal, able to live for centuries, possibly even millennia if China is anything to go by. Unlike humans, whose lives begin and end in the span of a few decades, we have the wear and tear of many lifetimes. Our memories are what children study in history classes. We're far too jaded to feel what the humans feel—or even recognize it if we do."
"So, you don't love Brother?"
The look that settled on Aloїsia's face was a strange one, as if she wondered where he got that idea while at the same time wondering why he even asked. There was a pensive edge to it, as well, and Ludwig waited patiently as she formulated an answer.
"I can't say that I don't love him, but I can't say that I do. It's…it's far more complicated than three small words can convey. We weren't love-struck children when we married—quite the opposite, actually. Gilbert was raised in war, taught to fight and given a sword when he was younger than you. My childhood wasn't much better, full of constant manipulations and risky gambles that oftentimes bordered on the realm of suicidal. I had nothing of value to my name, but Gilbert did. He had viable ports, fertile land, natural resources—everything I desired and lacked. So, my leaders began the decades-long process of worming their way into Prussia's ruling family until the two of us were so deeply entangled in one another we couldn't escape each other if we tried. Our marriage was an inevitable, necessary evil."
Ludwig cocked his head to the side, confused by her explanation. "That doesn't sound like love…"
"It wasn't," Aloїsia affirmed. "We tolerated each other, acted out of duty to our people. As the years passed, we slowly became devoted to one another." Another look crossed her face, one of realization. "Devotion. Yes, that's a better word. I'm devoted to Gilbert, and he is devoted to me. Our religious convictions don't ask for love, so we never thought to fall in love with one another. Devotion, on the other hand, is cited as a necessary component of marriage."
"So, you're devoted to Brother?"
The blonde nodded, giving Ludwig a smile. "Yes, that sounds about right."
"You'll stay by him?"
"In sickness and in health," Aloїsia said with a small laugh. "My vows haven't changed, my little one. I swore my loyalty to Gilbert on our wedding day, just he swore his to me. That is the relationship we have, dear one. A relationship of devotion and loyalty that might very well be the closest creatures such as us may ever come to love."
"I'd like to have something like that someday," Ludwig said with a yawn. Aloїsia chuckled a bit and reached over to pick the sleepy boy up.
"I hope you do find someone you can devote yourself to, though I pray it will be under better circumstances. Now, off to bed, my dear little one."
"—many. Germany, wake up!"
Blue eyes snapped open to reveal the concerned faces of France and Veneziano. Righting himself and chasing the fog of sleep from his mind, Germany pushed the stray strands of hair back and got out of the car.
"We've arrived already?"
"Mon cher, you slept for most of the journey," France said as he shut the door behind Germany. "I knew you'd overworked yourself. You will not do a single scrap of paperwork this weekend."
"But—"
"Big Brother France is right," Veneziano chimed in. "You've been dreaming a lot more lately, haven't you? That only happens when you're stressed; your mind keeps making up these strange stories based on all the stuff you're stressed about."
"I wish that was all that was bothering me," Germany muttered under his breath as he took his briefcase back from France. Strange dreams were one thing—he could take a sleeping pill or something and bypass them. Memories, however, were much harder to get away from. Particularly when they involved certain people from his past.
The German missed the look France and Veneziano shared with each other as he headed for his front door, Blackie lazily lifting her head in greeting. He smiled a bit and knelt down, giving her a quick scratch behind the ear. The old dog let out a contented whine and nuzzled into his touch. Just behind the door, he could hear Berlitz and Aster barking excitedly as they sensed his return. Frederick was just beyond the door as well, trying to calm the dogs.
With a sigh and a small smile, Germany opened the door and entered his home.
In all honesty, Frederick was glad he no longer had to answer to the acronym "D.D.R." or "East Germany." He hated those names, hated what they meant in the grand scheme of things. He wasn't even given Kӧnigsberg as a mercy. No, Prussia's ancient homeland was taken under Russia's direct command and given a new representative and a new name: Kaliningrad. (Not the Frederick really minded Kaliningrad all that much; she was a sweet girl when she wanted to be, and funny, too.)
"Berlitz, Aster, down! I know you're excited to see Ludwig, but he won't be able to get through the door if you're blocking it," Frederick pleaded as he tried to hold the dogs back. He still wasn't nearly as strong as he should have been, his body still recovering from his time in Russia's house. "Keep it up and I'll see to it neither of you get treats for a month!"
That seemed to get their attention, and soon enough the two dogs had abandoned the door and were nuzzling up to him in an attempt to earn his forgiveness (and their treats) back. Frederick rolled his eyes and sighed, watching the door open and reveal his blonde brother and said brother's friends. He knew France and Italy, though not very well considering they were on opposite sides of the Iron Curtain and Russia kept a very good eye on those who lived on his side.
"Welcome home, Ludwig," Frederick said, letting the dogs run over to the older man. "How was the meeting?"
"Exhausting and chaotic, as usual," France supplied, not even giving Germany the chance to respond. "In fact, we've barred your brother from doing any paperwork of any kind this weekend. He needs to take a break, oui?"
"Ja, that sounds like a good idea." Frederick smiled a bit, thankful that France had reacted to his concerns. (Though how depressing was it that Ludwig seemed more willing to listen to a different country than his own family?) "Is there anything you three would like to drink?"
"Do you have any wine?"
Frederick nodded and ran off to pour a couple of glasses. He grabbed a beer for his brother, knowing the German wasn't as fond of wine as his friends. Intent as he was on not spilling any of the crimson liquid, Frederick was still able to hear France's footsteps as he entered the kitchen.
"Is there something bothering you, Herr Frankreich?"
"These dreams he's been having lately, they aren't simply dreams, are they?"
Frederick didn't answer at first. He stopped pouring the wine, both glasses properly filled, and set the bottle on the counter as he pondered his words.
"No, not exactly. He's been remembering a lot lately."
"Prussia and Brandenburg?"
Frederick nodded. "He dreams about them, and the others, too. Every now and then he has nightmares about everything that happened."
France exhaled a particularly large breath, not quite a sigh, and picked up the glasses. Frederick sealed the wine and moved to replace it on the shelf it had been kept in. "Does he know yet? About this big secret you and Bavaria have supposedly been keeping? Has anyone ever told him?"
"No. We wanted to, tried countless times to tell him, but we were always interrupted. Then the Preußenschlag happened and after that…well…"
"You never had a chance," France finished, feeling the weight of those words settle in the air. Frederick nodded. "Do you think we should tell him?"
"Doesn't matter what I think," Frederick replied, a slight tint of bitterness to the words, "because Aunt Katrine's already decided to tell him immediately."
"…How soon is immediately?"
They both heard the doorbell ring. Frederick sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Immediately would be now. I'll break out the booze, because it's going to be a long, painful weekend and there is no way I am going to submit to any of this sober."
Surprisingly enough, the first thing Katrine did upon crossing the threshold was taking the alcohol and returning it to its proper place before locking it up and hanging the key from her neck. France pinched himself at first to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep, so strange was the idea of Bavaria purposefully locking away alcohol. She had always loved to drink and was less of a lightweight than many first thought given her over-all delicate and highly feminine frame.
"This is going to be a long and painful few days," Katrine explained, "and I refuse to repeat any of it because we ended up thoroughly intoxicated."
Poor Frederick looked about ready to cry. France wondered just exactly how difficult the next few days could possibly be. What sort of secrets had the German states been keeping that an entire weekend was needed to explain it?
"You'll find out soon enough," Katrine said, startling France. After a moment, he realized Germany had asked Katrine a similar question. "Now, everybody take a seat and make yourselves comfy. We've got a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it in. And don't think for a minute that this ends with the weekend, Ludwig; I have a present for you before I leave here on Sunday."
"It's strange to hear you talk around subjects," Germany said as he retreated to the couch, Italy settling down beside him, though considerable distance was left between them. France took to the arm chair as Katrine made her way to the other chair. Frederick sat on the floor, back rested against the couch.
"But that's the fun of all of it," Katrine remarked, her tone dry and almost absent-minded. Whatever she was about to reveal to Germany, it was weighing heavily on her mind. "Now, what I am about to tell you has been a carefully guarded secret since the early eighteen-hundreds. France, Veneziano, I am allowing you both to be present for this but I do this in strictest confidence. There is a reason this has never escaped the Lands. I want you all to promise me, to swear on your people, that you will never so much as breathe a word of this to anyone."
France eyed the former kingdom, weighing his options. Bavaria was never one to be trifled with, and even now, lacking the army and the sovereignty she once possessed, she was still someone France did not wish to make an enemy of. So he swore, upon the lives of his people, that he would not turn her tale into idle gossip. Instantly he felt the ancient power bind him to his word. To betray her would destroy him as a nation—exactly as she had intended.
Italy was slower to agree, looking almost hesitant. France felt a small smile grace his face; dear Italy was so adorable when unsure of what to do. A minute or two after France gave his oath, Italy quietly swore his silence as well. The redhead curled around a throw pillow, the lower half of his face buried in the soft fabric.
"Good," Katrine said, looking satisfied with the oaths. "Now, Ludwig, this is something I fear we should have told you a long time ago, when you were a child. Perhaps if we had, things might have gone differently."
A pensive look crossed the German state's face, but was swiftly shooed away.
"Anyway, this story can begin in several places. For the sake of simplicity and in order to keep up with the details most important to you, Ludwig, I'll begin with Brandenburg."
I don't know if Himaruya ever created a canon Brandenburg, but for my purposes Brandenburg will be female. It fits my own logic better and makes for (in my mind) what will hopefully be a more dynamic and interesting character. As for why Bavaria is female...again, I don't know if a canon design was ever made for Bavaria, but she ended up female in my mind. It makes the rivalry Bavaria and Prussia shared all the more fun to write. And yes, it is my headcannon that Prussia did, in fact, marry. However, unlike Austria (who seemed to be at the altar every other week), Prussia only married once and his sole marriage lasted for roughly 300 years, right up to Prussia's dissolution(s) in the 1930s and 40s.
Please leave a review and tell me what you think so far! Is it good? Great? Awesome? Decent? Should I never write again?