new story! Dark WWII story with mostly Ludwig and Gil. Should be regularly updated.

I don't own Hetalia

Chapter 1

1945

There are two kinds of anger; dry and wet. Wet anger is when you cry, when so many things go wrong and you feel like nothing will ever be right again. Wet anger is when you sob brokenly and look weak and defeated, and knowing you look like that makes you even angrier but there is just nothing you can do. Nothing you can do because you just care so much.

Dry anger is worse. It is when you are so angry at everything you cannot fix. Dry anger is when your jaw is set hard, eyes and face are stone cold. It's when you have just dealt with so much bullshit that you can't feel upset anymore. You have no tears to spare because you are so done, you have given up.

Years ago when he was younger Ludwig would have been crying. He would have been so utterly upset he would cry until his big brother came and hugged him. He would hate the fact he was crying as a teenager and needed a hug, but he couldn't help it. He cared still.

But now, standing in his dirty, and torn black uniform, bleeding from a bullet wound in his stomach all Ludwig could do was raise the Luger to his temple and stare stoically at the ruins of Berlin before him, face impassive as stone. He would not cry for the big brother he wanted. He would not call out for the man he had tried to be better than. Ludwig had failed. He was not great. He did not bring the world to its knees. His empire did not surpass his brothers. His Reich had not lasted even close to a thousand years. The war was over. Over again and he had lost. Lost again and this time, he just didn't care.

-1935-

Ludwig was sitting in his office, staring blankly at the sheets of rain pounding at his window. He had a massive pile of papers in front of him, though he had lost all will to go through them. It was the same every day. Notices of a deeper debt. Angry letters from citizens. Pleas for help, demands for money from other nations. Every day there was and more. The pile grew nearly as fast as his despair.

He sighed and leaned back and tossed his pen at the desk. Why was he here? He couldn't fix any of these issues. His country was a wreck with no money. The land was war torn, no one had money. The people of Germany barely had land to live on, yet alone farm and survive on.

Yet all the Allies wanted was their money. Money demanded by a treaty he never signed, as a penalty of a war he did not start. His scowl just deepened as he thought about the Great War.

Gilbert had tried his hardest to hold him together. Ludwig loved his elder brother, the great and mighty Prussia. As a boy he was happy to hide at his brothers coat tails. As a teenager he depended strongly on his brother for protection and guidance. When he finally became a unified nation, Gil handed over a lot of responsibility. Gil handed him a nation to lead.

He failed miserably at colonizing. England already owned most of the globe anyway. Gil didn't have colonies either, so Ludwig didn't mind not having them. He made a few allies, Austria was his closest one. Gilbert had taught him about the power of friends and leadership. He wanted to mirror the great Prussian empire. But he was happy being just that; a reflection of his brothers greatness.

Then as the Balkan powder keg exploded and Austria's arch duke was killed, Ludwig did what he was supposed to do as an ally. He declared war, and he fought hard. Gil helped him a little, but this was in the end his first war.

And needless to say, his first efforts were far from perfect. Yet, his first war did not end in a defeat. It wasn't even close to that. A truce was called. A cease fire, by both sides.

Last Ludwig checked, a stale mate was not a loss. But the bigger nations, the stronger nations, they took it as so. They took his stale mate as a loss, met in Versailles, and made a treaty.

A 'treaty', Ludwig sneered. Last he checked, both sides were supposed to sign that too. He had no say, so the Allies stole away land, demanded he eradicated his army, and demanded money. They told him he couldn't have a standing army, they told him Rhineland was a DMZ and belonged to France. They demanded billions in reparations. Their nations were broke too, so was his, but yet he had to pay them instead of fixing himself.

Because he had lost, with a stalemate.

Ludwig had came away from the Great War with several things. He had learned that the bigger you were, the stronger you were, the more you could steal without repercussions. He learned that if he wanted, he could bully around little nations and take what he pleased.

Most importantly, he learned the Allies could not be trusted.

And his own brother could not be either. The Allies did not bully Gil. They didn't take his land or demand money. They left him alone, because he was big and strong. He was formidable. He was the great empire that Napoleon avoided in battle. His big brother did not protect him. His big brother didn't stand up for him. His big brother watched as he was knocked to the dirt and stepped on.

And how could Ludwig ever forgive that, when Gil had promised to always take care of him? Ludwig had taken one other thing from the war. A hate stronger than love. A rage deeper than blood. A desire for revenge more powerful than a bond of brothers. One day the world would pay for trampling on him. One day, his own dear brother would pay for ignoring his cries of help and not looking as he was harassed.

One day, the corrupt world would fall and he, a noble man who knew the pain of being knocked down, would govern it fairly. He would control the globe. He would be greater than his brother. Greater than the Allies put together, and he would keep their greedy hands tied. He would be strong, he would strike fear into the evil, and demand respect from all. The overshadowed, forgotten, smaller Bielschdmit, would for once stand tall. He would bask in the glory of power and victory. He would be noticed, and never again would he live in his brother's shadow.

A knock at the door brought Ludwig out of his sour thoughts and he looked towards the sound.

"Come in." he was surprised how tired his own voice sounded.

It was one of his assistants. The boy was thin, they all were. He was young, maybe a boy of sixteen. His hair was dirty and stringy, and his face was lean and haunted. A grey uniform barely clung to his bony frame.

"I have some more letters and telegrams sir." the boy said, his head respectfully inclined.

Ludwig walked over and took the papers from him and looked down at him. "Go home." The boy nodded and walked off, and he closed his office door again.

Ludwig looked back out the window. Night had fallen, but the rain still poured. He turned his office light on and looked disdainfully back at the papers on his desk. His eyes then wandered up to the map on his wall. An updated map of the world, with his chopped up little nation.

He didn't choose that map. The Allies thought Ludwig should have it. As a reminder he had lost.

He was tired and irritable, and it didn't take much to set him off these days. Compounded with his dark thoughts a sudden stroke of rage overcame him and he threw his new papers at the wall. With a deep bellow he flipped over his desk, shouting in rage and ripping the map off the wall as well with a great heave. The thin paper shredded easily and in fury he hit the wall with his fist, making an indent.

Enough was enough. Every man had a breaking point and Ludwig had found his.

Screw the treaty, he thought.

He couldn't have an army? Fine, he would build and train a 'work force'.

Rhineland isn't his? For now it isn't.

He owed millions of dollars? Not anymore.

The Allies ruled the world? Not for long.

He loved and looked up to his big brother? He had no brother.

Thanks for reading. If you want more completed German brother stories check out my other works!

Please follow favorite and review! Update to come soon