They tell us that we're safe, it'll be fine, countries can't die.
It's a lie. We can die, very easily in fact. I know we can, because I've killed countries before.
I watched him fall to the ground. He was still proud, even after all I had done, proud enough not to scream or call out for me to help him. I could have saved him. He would be like Prussia is now, a dissolved nation, but still alive. Instead I let him die.
It was the hatred that had built up over those four years that made me do it. It was a pointless conflict! If he had just let us set things straight, if he had realized that fighting change never helped anyone, if he had only listened... I would still have him with me.
I might have hated him as a country, but as a person, it was different. He acted like he didn't care, but I know that he did, I could see it. He may not have agreed which what I believed was right, but he didn't want to hurt me, just like I never truly wanted to hurt him. My country just wanted him to come back, to return to the way things were supposed to be. But he wouldn't listen!
He wouldn't listen when I told him there was no need to do this, that what some people were doing was immoral and just plain wrong, and we had to put a stop to it. He was too proud to listen to me, or anyone else, for that matter. I think that he was trying to prove something to me, to my country. We didn't recognize him as a nation, and I think he must have been trying to prove himself to us, prove that he deserved to live as we did, be his own country. But in the end... All he did was prove why he shouldn't be.
Yet if I had a choice, if I could go back, I would save him. Prussia found a way to live, surely I could have found a way to keep him. Like South and North Italy, or East and West Germany. Technically they don't both exist anymore, but the other still lives. There's still a difference between the two areas- just as there is here. A difference between the north and the south.
I wish that in that moment I could have put aside all the blood and pain. I wish I could have thought of the few moments we had that were happy and peaceful, when we forgot about our duties as countries and were almost human. We could have had that relationship forever. Like real brothers. But instead, I- I had to let him go.
In a way, it was the right thing to do. He was never supposed to exist, because the country he was supposed to represent was never recognized (I guess that's not a good reason though, look at Sealand), the action that would have made him a country wasn't legal. Yet...
I regret it. It's the only real regret I have left. I'm well over the Revolutionary War, as I guess that England is as well. It's better that I became my own country, anyways. He never could control me that well. But I'll never be over this war. Ever. The memory of my brother falling to the ground, dead, body disappearing right before my eyes-
If I could write a letter to you, this is what it would say, because I don't want you to think I forgot about you. So if countries really can come back after death, like some claim Roman Empire and Germania have, do me a favor and see that I haven't forgotten.
You are a memory that I will never forget.