This was a drabble started when I thought about Prussia's origins as the Teutonic Knights, and how that must have affected his beliefs and morality later in life.
Reviews are appreciated, as always.
Prussia had started his life as a country as the Teutonic Knights, a bunch of ragtag Catholic crusaders that were the foundation for the later "awesome" kingdom of Prussia. The key word in that last sentence was Catholic. He truly, utterly believed what he was doing with Canada was utterly wrong. And yet, he found himself unable to resist. He loved Canada, with all his heart. Wasn't that enough? Did it really matter what gender he was? Canada was so innocent – an angel, almost. Prussia was a demon – unnaturally pale and with white hair – he even had red eyes, after all. Prussia felt that with every kiss, with every touch, he was corrupting the angel. He was staining Canada's gossamer wings with blood, setting them aflame and burning them to ash. Compared to Prussia, Canada's history was relatively peaceful, never shedding so much blood as Prussia had. Canada loved everyone, though always they forgot him. He hated what he was doing, and yet he loved it. Prussia believed Canada deserved someone so much better than him, yet every time he pictured his lover with another, his heart ached in agony. He loved Canada, truly.
So why did he never stop?
Every single time, he told himself this: that what they were doing was wrong. Prussia couldn't leave Canada though. It would hurt him, and Prussia couldn't bear to see Canada in pain. They had already gone through too much. But then again, Prussia was already damning Canada, dragging him down with him to burn. Was this really the answer? What they had was beautiful, loving. For once, Prussia started to question his beliefs. He sighed and held his head in his hands. When he glanced over at Canada, however, his doubts disappeared, as they always did. He was perfect. They were perfect.
Weren't they?