Prologue:

The moment I was made and began fighting I knew how it was going to end. When I took over the mission of re-building everything old Germania was I knew what I'd have to do. They always called me a fool, a patriotic idiot with surreal ideals. No one is laughing now. Its funny when you're dead people start listening. Here at Versailles, Francis has anger written all over his face, Roddy looks intimidated, proud and sad all at the same time...I wish I'd have more time with that piano freak, wish we didn't fight for seven goddamn weeks. Here I am, murmuring the words. The child chosen becomes more powerful as I speak, he'll do great. The humans are cheering but Roddy looks like crap; He knows what is happening. It's the sharp ending of a short life, but I've had just enough time to live and think this through. Everything dies out, even countries. I won't live as country anymore but... Heck, the world will be better off with Luddy. He is my pride and joy. He's getting strong already.

The light green pasture contrasted with the deep blue colour that painted the sky that morning. Few fluffy clouds flew above two young men, lying on the grass lazily. One so white it seemed like a blank spot on a painting, with bright red eyes, the other, was dark haired and a tad smaller, with glasses on; He also carried a more austere demeanour, not as dry as it would, one day, come to be.

"Hey, Roddy. When we gather all little pieces and build back what grandpa had back in the day all mornings will be as nice as this one, I promise." The albino said, with a big smile on his face and a dreamy sparkle on his eyes. "I'll do my best to re-build our Empire. Make it whole."

"Don't you go on obsessing about it though, Gilbert. War… that was what destroyed Germania, what will destroy us all in the end. Take your time." Roderich – for that was the smaller's name –answered, not as severe as if he was scolding the other but still rather serious. They were not mere lads dreaming of unification on an open field. They were the countries of Prussia and Austria.

"It's a matter of pride and justice, Roddy. The awesome me knows it won't be a walk in the park but, hey, I can fix it." Saying that, he sat up, looking at the one by his side. "You'll help me right? Kick Francis out of our territories, take back what's ours rightfully."

"I don't know if I'm ready to act by force so soon. My people… I do not wish war, Gilbert." The dark haired sat up as well, removing several leaves that had tangled on the albino's hair. "Besides, do you not ever imagine what will become of us when we finally accomplish that? We will fade."

In response, Gilbert laughed merrily and stretched himself back down, only this time he used his friend's leg as a pillow, which deeply annoyed Roderich, speaking of which. "I think of that all the time. You know… I want a warrior's funeral… Just like on the old times, on the stories."

"What do you mean, Gilbert?"

"I mean, like… everyone would lay the awesome me on a bed of roses on this really cool ship, I'd be holding a sword and everything…" He moved his hands, as if he could picture every single detail and move then with his hands as he spoke. "Then, they'd send the ship into the river or the sea… and bowmen would shoot fire-arrows at the boat and it'd burn and sink with my body in it. This would be in the early morning, when the sun would be rising. Beautiful, yeah?"

"You're romanticizing your own death. That is a whole new degree of creepy and self-destructive." Roderich smiled, back then such things were not as rare as they've come to be. The two countries laid on the green for what seemed like an eternity afterwards. But like any other romanticized realities, eternity did not last so long.

On the year of 1806, the smaller of them, the one that generally spent time with Austria. The child. The Holy Roman Empire was dissoluted. That was when Roderich finally began taking action alongside with Prussia. His acts were much more diplomatic and less iron-fisted than his partner. For years they tried to conquer their space back. Prussia more than the other, whom he accused of being pro-French. In 1866, they could not take it anymore. Gilbert was impatient and Roderich did not want to go on that fast. They fought for seven weeks. They fought a war and cut the bonds they'd so intensively built on the past years. On the last day of battle, the winning Prussian albino did not dare looking at his fallen enemy's face. He could not. He didn't have courage.

On the following year, Roderich and Elizaveta announced and celebrated their wedding, forming the Austro-Hungarian Empire. A great amount of friends, colleagues, countries, important politicians and powerful people were present. All invited ones showed to the event. All invited and one uninvited. He was only visible for a few minutes and then were gone, like a summer breeze. Austria looked at the gate that separated the garden where the party was held from another part of the property and there he stood; Gilbert, all clad in white. His eyes were not angry, nor sarcastic not playful. It was scary how unreadable those red eyes were on those few moments. Only one thing was in plain sight but the obvious, and that was the look of betrayal he put on. Roderich almost felt guilty at that but his pride did not allow him such a thing.

He was certain and never more serious. On the palace of Versailles, proclaiming the existence of the country of Germany, mocking France with his greatness. Prussia was never higher than he was than. An that was seconds before he fell the hardest.

Ludwig was going to be what they had been longing for all along. The one to bring together what had once been lost. The language, the tradition, the culture, everything. Nevertheless, he could not lie to himself. Gilbert was scared.

He could feel his endlessness vanishing little by little, and once Ludwig was complete and fully awake, christened Germany, Prussia ceased existing. He was not the country of Prussia any longer.

"I've done what I had to do on this world. I've had enough time and it is now close to its end." Granted by fire and blood, the sharp knife of a short life in exchange for his task's result. He had always known how it would end like that and such thing had never bothered him. Germany was alive, his brother, all he had fought for.

Gilbert only wished Roderich would be there to see it and that, when his time finally ended truly, the Prussian recalled the words he had said when they were small and careless. He wanted a knight's burial. Roderich should remember it clearly then. Funny when you're dying people start listening.

Though he had lived for one purpose and one alone. As a man, and a mortal, Gilbert thought of love. He had never known the true meaning behind that as concerning another alive being and not an ideal or wish. Still, it did feel good to have Roderich hold his hand and lay his head to rest on his chest; his heart had raced then as it shattered at the Austro-Hungarian union and perhaps, only perhaps, that had been the closest to loving someone he had ever been, but it was gone now. Austria was a country, and so was Germany.

He was a mortal man. He was Gilbert Beilschmidt.

And nothing more.