Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me. I am purely using it as a means of entertainment and am making no money profit from this.
Heavy machinery trucks rumbled throughout the nights of August 1961. They awoke children, pets, toddlers, teenagers, parents, families. Pieces of concrete, cobblestone, wood, anything possible was scattered all around the Berlin area. Ever since the ending of the second World War, major changes had been made, including the main allies (The United States, Britain, France, and the USSR) dividing Germany into four parts. Soon after, The United States, Britain, and France all combined their parts, thus resulting in Germany only being separated into two parts, East and West Germany.
When you look back on it, you start to realize that this is what drove Prussia, West Germany, to order the building of the Berlin Wall.
Run, Prussia thought. They can't get you when you're running… Not if you're fast enough. He was sprinting by now, that red-eyed albino. It had been twenty-eight years of the worst kind of Hell—twenty-eight. Twenty-eight years of being separated from his younger brother because of a damned wall.
Prussia had made sure the wall would be built unexpectedly. It was, and the entire country of Germany was shocked, and he knew that. They were outraged, crazy, and willing to do anything to get to the West side of Germany. Many tried to get over the wall, but were shot down by border patrol. It was Prussia's fault, and he knew that.
He made it home. Finally, yes, home. The front door was slammed shut and Prussia's back was pressed against it, as if there was an intruder on the other side. He breathed deeply, able to hear his own heartbeat.
Lubdub. Lubdub. Lubdub. Lub dub. Lub dub. Lub dub… Lub dub… Lub dub…
Prussia let out a breath of relief as he heard his heartbeat slow down. He was scared out of his mind, that part was obvious. Bolt the doors to your home and iron-gate the windows. He was certain his people were after him. They had to be. He was the one who ordered the wall to be built. He was the one who isolated them from the West side. He was the one who forced them under communist control. He could have let them be. He could have let them cross to the West freely, just as they had always been able to.
Technically, Prussia hadn't been a nation in years. His empire had fallen decades ago, but he still considered himself East Germany. As long as there were still Prussians around, he would still be there, lurking quietly in the shadows and helping West make decisions. Or, at least, he hoped West was letting him help and wasn't just being nice.
Furthermore, if Prussians were still around, so was Prussia. He was still German; he was still a part of Germany. If the German people were conflicted, so was he. If they were outraged, so was he. If they were upset because of reasons, so was he. That's just how it worked with him, and right now, he was a burden.
He had torn families apart and separated them, just as he was separated from West. Shooting a look both ways, he sprinted. Where he was going, he had no idea, but he ran. It was all he could do. His feet landed him in front of a large wooden door. Catching his breath was at the bottom of his priority list. Shoving the door open, his entire body shook with rage and despair.
"Take it down!" Prussia yelled all in one breath. His sweaty palms found the rough point of his knees as he forced his lungs to collect air. The eyes of the people surrounding him held a look of shock and confusion as the pale-haired boy collapsed and unfolded himself in front of them. His next words came out choked, pleading.
"Take it down," Prussia whimpered. "Take the damn wall down. I can't do this anymore."
I can't do anything anymore, it seems.